“I have written and posted letters to my uncle daily, sir. I, too, have been concerned that he has not written to me for several days.”
I saw my uncle sit up straighter in his chair, but he did not speak. Colonel Stiet pursed his lips. “Well. It seems to me that we then have the answer to our little puzzle. Something has interrupted the post. Letters have gone missing. Certainly this should not cause any of us much distress, however. I do not feel it has been worth this ‘emergency’ meeting tonight at the end of a long and arduous day.”
I could not think of a reply, but my uncle answered for us.
“Ordinarily, it would not,” my uncle replied. “Save that I have had some concerns about young Nevare of late. And thus I made him promise to write to me daily. When he appeared to be ignoring that request, I naturally felt concern.”
“Naturally,” Colonel Stiet agreed, but his voice was flat with skepticism. “And now that you are reassured that all is well with him, I trust we can put this incident behind us.”
“Certainly,” my uncle agreed. “So long as Nevare continues to write to me daily. I shall have one of my men deliver my messages and pick up his to me, to be sure that the post does not fail us again. I have promised my brother, Nevare’s father, that I would watch over him as closely as I would my own soldier son. I intend to keep that promise.”
“As a man of honor, certainly you must.” The words were correct, but there was still that odd flatness to his voice. The colonel looked at me as if he’d just realized I was there. “Dismissed, Cadet. Lord Burvelle, would you care to join me at my home for a glass of wine before you depart?”
I had already turned to go when my uncle spoke. “Actually, Colonel, I fear I should be getting back to the city. Things are a bit unsettled at my home of late. I shall walk Nevare back to his dormitory, I think, before I leave.”
The colonel was silent for a few moments. Then, “The walks are icy tonight, Lord Burvelle. I strongly recommend against this.”
“Thank you for your concern, Colonel Stiet.”
And my uncle left it there, neither saying he would take the colonel’s advice nor that he would ignore it. It left the colonel little more to say except “good night.” And that he did, and my uncle returned it to him. Then he joined me as I opened the door for him. As I had suspected, Caulder was lingering in the foyer. I walked immediately to the outer door, but my uncle greeted him kindly and asked him how he had been of late. Caulder responded with faultless courtesy and a smiling familiarity with my uncle that roused an unreasoning fury in me. I suppose I felt as if Caulder were somehow claiming my uncle. I deliberately held the door open for my uncle, admitting the cold wind into Colonel Stiet’s foyer while they chatted. When my uncle finally bid Caulder good night and preceded me out the door, I was glad to let it close on the building and all it contained.
I think my uncle sensed my upset, for he followed me carefully down the icy steps and then paused to wrap his scarf more closely around his neck. “My wife’s family has close ties with Lord Stiet. That is how we know his brother, Colonel Stiet, and Caulder of course. They have been guests in my home.” He paused as if to let me reply, but I could think of nothing to say. “The wind has a bite in it tonight,” he observed. “Shall we sit in my carriage and talk for a bit?”
“I should like that, sir,” I said, but then added, “If you do not think it would be too hard on your coachman.”
He cocked his head at me. “A good point, young Nevare. You show your father’s concern for folk of lesser station. It is what made him such an excellent officer, and so beloved of his troops. Gaser!” He raised his voice to call to the man. “I’m going to walk Nevare back to his dormitory. If you get too chilled, you may sit inside the carriage.”
“Thanky, sir,” the man replied, gratitude in his voice. As we walked away, I felt warmed, not just by my uncle’s praise, but that he had acted on my concern for his coachman. My uncle took my arm as we walked.
“Well, Nevare, if you had to guess, where do you think our letters have gone astray?”
“I’m sure I’ve no idea, sir.”
“Oh, lad, you don’t need to dissemble with me. I suspect that if I went to my wife’s little writing desk and broke the silly lock on it, I’d find them all neatly stacked there. I don’t think even Daraleen would have the gall to destroy them completely. No doubt she will say it was an oversight of some sort. It would not be the first time she had tampered in my affairs.” He sighed. “So. Why don’t we cut to the heart of it, and you tell me what you think made her do it.”