Nicholas Bracewell was waiting. After being roused from his slumber in the night, he had had no further sleep, intent on keeping guard over Davy Stratton whom he had reprimanded as firmly as he dared without waking Owen Elias. Sent back to his own bed, the boy had retreated into a deep sleep. He was still lying there as Nicholas got up and stepped past him to open the door. A servant was walking away along the passageway.‘Wait a moment,’ called Nicholas.‘Good morrow, sir,’ said the man, turning back.‘We were locked in our room last night.’‘Yes, sir.’‘Why?’‘It’s what I was told to do, sir.’‘By whom?’‘The steward, sir.’ ‘Did he give you a reason?’‘No, sir. Only an order.’ He pointed a finger at the neat pile of clothing on the floor. ‘Fresh apparel came from Holly Lodge for the boy. I’ve set it down there.’‘Thank you.’Nicholas waved him away. Picking up the clothing, he went back into the room to put it beside Davy. There was no point in reproaching a servant for doing something that he had been instructed to do.
