Free Fever Quest: A Clean Historical Mystery set in England and India (The Isabella Rockwell Trilogy Book 2) by Hannah Parry

the heat. The groom looked familiar
and the horses, one of them a chestnut with one white sock, made Isabella think
of the day they had left the Port of Masulipatam.
    “I think that’s the Jefferies’ carriage,” she said
quietly.
    Only Rose heard her and darted her a look.
    The Residency’s hall was airy and cool, with a
black-and-white marble floor. A fan whirled above them; the servant operating
it sat outside on the porch, the fan rope tied to one of his toes. In the
moment they stood assembled waiting to be greeted, Isabella heard crying.
    Lady Denier was fussing with her wrap.
    “Well, this isn’t much of a welcome.”
    “Did you hear that?” Isabella whispered to Livia.
    Livia shook her head. “What?”
    “Someone’s crying.”
    There was the clip-clop of shoes on marble and their
hostess appeared, red-faced and flustered.
    “Welcome, everyone. I do apologise for not being here to
greet you immediately, but we have had something of an upset.”
    “Has something happened to the Jefferies?” asked Isabella.
    The governor’s wife, a tall lady in a sensible brown
cotton dress, turned to look at her.
    “Are you Isabella Rockwell?”
    Fear crept up her chest and around her shoulders.
    “Yes.”
    “You’d better come with me.”
    Her face was unreadable and Isabella looked at Livia who
drew closer to her and put a hand on her arm.
    “Shall I come with you?”
    Isabella shook her head and followed their hostess from
the hall. They continued into a pleasant room lined with books and thick green
pot plants which provided shade from the sun. Sitting on one of the brown
leather sofas was Mrs Jefferies, looking tearstained. On seeing Isabella, she
burst into a fresh round of tears. Mr Jefferies stood and drew Isabella into
the room.
    “Come and sit down, my dear.”
    Isabella didn’t like the look of any of this.
    “Where’s Midge?” she asked, at which Mrs Jefferies let out
a wail.
    “Oh, Isabella, I don’t know how to tell you this.” Her
words were forced out through hiccups and gulps for air.
    Isabella turned to Mr Jefferies.
    “Where is he?” Her voice was calm but her heart hammered
so hard she thought it might jump from her mouth.
    “We don’t know,” said Mr Jefferies, turning to his wife.
“Agatha, please.”
    “What do you mean?” Isabella felt as if time had stopped.
    “He’s gone.”
    “Gone where?”
    Mr Jefferies picked up her hand. “We don’t know. We
arrived here last night and went to bed, but he didn’t come down this morning.
When we went to check on him, his bed was empty.”
    “And cold,” wept Mrs Jefferies.
    “There was this, however.” Mr Jefferies held out a note
written in a flowery hand. It was addressed to her. With shaking hands she took
it. “It was on the mantelpiece in his bedroom. We’ve searched for clues and the
governor’s best trackers have been out since breakfast, but we’ve found
nothing.” The note had a red wax seal stamped with an eagle its wings
outstretched. “I would have opened it, but we heard you were stopping here too.
We thought we should wait. It is addressed to you, after all. If you need our help,
please just say, otherwise we might continue to Simla. Mrs Jefferies needs to
get home.”
    Isabella looked at Mrs Jefferies who did indeed look
unhinged, sobbing and gulping and looking into the distance, her hands twisting
in her lap.
    Mr Jefferies caught her glance. “Our son died, you know. A
boy of Midge’s age.
    “I’m sorry.” Isabella looked down at the note. “Shall I
open this?”
    “If you could,” said Mr Jefferies.
    Dear Miss Rockwell
    I have that which you seek. The mines of Golconda are a day’s ride from where you are. I expect to see you soon. Needless to say, if
you tell anyone in authority of this, your friend’s life will be forfeit. What
happens next is up to you.
    Yours in anticipation,
    Remus Stone
    Isabella blinked. Remus Stone?
    “What does it say?”
    The Jefferies were looking at her, fearing the