by Erin Grace
Tears swelled in the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. ‘Mama. What is it? Why are you crying? And your hands, they are so cold. Have you been outside all morning?’
Her mother nodded sadly, reached out and gripped her arms tight as though they were all that stood between standing and collapsing to the floor. ‘Stephaney has gone missing again.’
A chill ran through her body. After Henrietta’s visit a few days ago, she’d searched around the manor gardens with every free moment she could until her mama had sent a message to Etford later that night telling her that her sister had finally returned.
Never had she been so relieved in her life.
She swallowed and inhaled a deep breath, desperately trying to subdue her growing anxiety. It would do little good for her mother to see her upset as well.
‘It is only early in the day, Mama. Perhaps she is down by the lake on the far side of the village? You know she enjoys feeding the ducks.’
Her mother gazed into the hearth and shook her head. ‘No, my dearest. This time she has been gone since last night.’
Hands trembling, she raised them to her mouth. ‘Last night? My God. Are you certain?’
‘Yes. I have been out since before dawn looking for her. I had just come back a few minutes before your arrival. Last night, your uncle Linus and even Mr Gleeson tried to find her, but nothing. By midnight it was too cold, and they had to return.’
Her mother’s drawn, pale countenance bespoke a sleepless night and terrible worry.
She pulled out a chair from the table and gently lowered her mother’s quivering frame onto it. ‘Sit down, Mama. I will make you some hot tea. You look so tired. You need to rest, and I’ll go looking for Stephaney.’
‘No, I must continue to search for her.’
‘Mama, please. You can barely stand. Besides, what if she came back and no one was here for her?’ She deftly unpacked the basket, laying the jars of conserves, pickles and relishes on the table. ‘Here, I have brought you some jams from his lordship’s cook, Mrs Peel. It’s not much, but you need to eat something.’
She dashed across to the bread crock on the sideboard, removed a heavy loaf of brown bread and brought it to the table.
Her throat tightened, and she kept blinking tears back. She must find her sister, but her mama needed her as well. With an unsteady hand, she sliced two thick pieces of bread and placed them on a small plate.
She reached over to one of the jars, opened it and scooped out a large portion of orange marmalade before spreading it across the bread. ‘Please, eat something, Mama.’
‘I cannot.’ Her mother stared down at the glistening orange confection and sighed as though her heart was breaking. ‘I am so sorry, my dear.’
She glanced away, refusing the painful urge to cry. Not just for Stephaney, but for everything her family had endured over the past twelve months. Not once had she yelled and screamed, but Lord, did she want to. From the moment she’d arrived at Speckles Wood a torrent of raw emotion had whirled within her, held back only by the thick layer of determination she’d built to suppress it.
But as she stood there, her mother’s soft sobbing echoing in the quiet kitchen, cracks began to split a once calm facade.
She snatched up the jar of jam and hurled it at the kitchen wall, where it smashed into dozens of glittering fragments, marmalade oozing down the blackened stonework above the hearth.
Blast it all! How could her papa die and leave them all alone? He shouldn’t have. Why did he have to go? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right, and Lord forgive her, but she hated the world at times for making her family suffer so. Once she’d considered most people to have a kindness of spirit about them, but nevermore had she been proven wrong.
Others simply wanted to take whatever they could from her, until there was nothing left to give. But she would tolerate it no more. Oh, how tired she was of pretending that everything would be all right, when it would never be so.
She sniffed and inhaled a deep, stuttered breath. No. No more would she allow others to control her future and her chance at happiness. She would leave for London when Lady Stanton returned, take up the position at the millinery store and make a fresh start for her and her family.
Filled with renewed determination, she turned around and regarded her mother with a steady gaze. ‘Please don’t be sorry, Mama. You are not to blame for Stephaney running away.’ Ignoring the sticky mess around her, she fetched the old kettle from the hearth, poured boiling water into a teapot and added a generous scoop of fragrant tea leaves. Henrietta would usually only let them use a scant teaspoon of leaves at most, but right now she didn’t give a fig for her aunt’s miserly ways.
Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief then wiped her nose. ‘When your father passed away, I didn’t know what to do. He had always taken care of most things and I had been content to let him, such was my folly. But, I could never have imagined something so terrible happening to him…to us. I had always known your aunt to be a cold woman, but I never thought she would be so harsh on us. I don’t mind doing all of her tasks, but she shouldn’t be so hard on you girls, especially at this time of year.’
She poured a strong cup of tea, put it before her poor mother and squatted down in front of her. ‘Stephaney knows you have done your best…we both do. And I don’t believe Henrietta is the problem, at least not all of it. Stephaney misses Papa dearly, though she has never spoken of it. This Christmas will be hard on all of us, Mama. I suppose Stephaney is trying to cope the best way she can.’
‘I do miss your papa too, Lily. I miss him dreadfully so.’
A lump formed in her throat and her eyesight blurred. ‘I miss him too. Now, don’t worry, I’ll find my sister. I promise.’ She reached out and squeezed her mother’s hands then stood up. ‘And, I’m so glad to see that you have found Papa’s thimble. Your poor fingers were suffering terribly.’
Her mama reached across the table and collected the tiny silver object. ‘It’s the oddest thing. This isn’t Papa’s thimble, though I confess I have looked everywhere for it.’
‘What do you mean?’ She reached out and gently took the thimble from her mother. The sides of it were carved with a beautifully intricate vine of ivy leaves. Odd. The pattern somehow seemed very familiar to her.
Her mother grasped the cup and slowly sipped on the tea. ‘It was a gift. Well, more of a miracle really.’
‘Why a miracle?’
‘It was a gift from your aunt.’
The thimble slipped from her fingers and rattled along the floor.
‘Oh, Lily. Do have a care. It may be from Henrietta, but it is a lovely little piece. And, I did so need a new one.’
‘Sorry, Mama.’ Why would her aunt give such an expensive gift to her mother after all this time? Surely the woman couldn’t have had a change of heart. No. People like her possessed no heart. ‘It is lovely. And you deserve to have something so pretty. I was just taken aback by your news.’
‘As was I. Perhaps the Christmas spirit has finally seeped into her after all this time?’
‘Then it truly would be a miracle.’ But why hadn’t Henrietta sent word about her sister? The wretched woman had visited her often enough at Etford, on the flimsiest of pretences. She reached up and secured her bonnet, still on her head from the moment she’d arrived. ‘Now, please get warm, Mama. I will see Mr Gleeson and continue looking for Stephaney. Don’t worry, I’ll find her.’
Gabriel’s head ached from the cold, his throat sore and dry. After his horse, Hector had been made lame on the way back to Etford Park, he’d been stranded in the heavy snows late into last night, until he’d managed to get to an inn. Though the place couldn’t offer him a change of clothes, the modest fire in his room had at least allowed him the opportunity to get warm and dry out some of his belongings.
Earlier in the day, he’d sent his groom ahead with the buggy before the roads become impassable, whilst he insisted on checking the last few derelict f
armers’ cottages on the Rosebury estate. Yet, all the while the words of Lord Hoxton had plagued him.
Why hadn’t Lady Stanton gone to London as she’d planned to?
Home at last, he handed Hector over to Mr MacCallister, and made his way to the kitchen entrance, rather than walk the long path to the manor’s terrace doors. A slight shiver raced along his skin and his eyes began to burn as he approached the servants’ entrance.
His boots were ruined, and his clothes had once more become drenched through from the drizzling rain. What he wouldn’t give for a dry shirt and some sleep.
Peters, his valet, would no doubt have an apoplexy over the state of his attire, but it was getting dark and he was too tired to give a damn who saw him in his present condition.
He opened the door and was greeted by the stunned silence of his cook and scullery maid, who had stopped mid-task and were staring at him. ‘Good evening, ladies. If you will excuse me.’
He felt the weight of their disbelieving gazes upon him until he was safely out of the kitchen and into the hallway.
From the shadows, Thompson alighted from the servant’s stairs, looked up and fumbled with the tray he was carrying. ‘Sir. What are you doing here?’
‘As it happens, I live here.’ He continued toward the main hallway, with Thompson following in his wake.
‘My apologies, of course, sir. You startled me. I had meant to ask where you have been. We had been expecting you yesterday. His lordship asks about you incessantly. Is everything all right?’
His father asked about him? He paused and eyed his servant thoughtfully. Had he misheard? Perhaps. He was exhausted to the core.
‘Nothing a hot bath and a decent brandy can’t fix.’ Though in truth, his chest ached in a most disagreeable way and his eyesight had begun to blur. He cleared his throat and loosened his stained cravat. ‘Have Peters draw me a bath, will you? In the meantime, I’ll be in the library.’
‘Of course, sir. Right away.’
His thoughts turned to Lily. ‘Where is Lady Cecily?’
‘I believe she is upstairs resting, sir. I will inform Mrs Peel that you will be joining her ladyship and his lordship for dinner.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Odd. His father had been too ill to leave his room since the first day he’d arrived and now the man was eating in the dining room? What on earth had been going on during his absence? He shook his head then regretted it immediately. Blasted headache. ‘And have you seen Miss Bowden at all? I wish to see her in the library.’
The butler seemed to hesitate before replying. ‘I haven’t been able to locate Miss Bowden for the past four hours, sir. Her ladyship was also asking her whereabouts.’
‘Have you tried the servants’ quarters?
‘Yes, sir. According to Mrs Peel, she returned late afternoon, as expected, from a visit to her family. And, according to Polly, she seemed most distracted. Shortly after, she was nowhere to be seen, sir. If I may say so, Mrs Godfrey is at wits-end with the girl.’
A ball of lead settled in his stomach as his mind flooded with gruesome possibilities of what could have happened to Lily. And, if Lady Stanton has had anything to do with her disappearance, he would make the wretched woman pay dearly.
He let go his cravat, turned and headed toward the main stairs as a wave of dizziness made him reach for the banister. His head began to pound, and heat radiated from beneath his damp shirt. What in hell was wrong with him? Whatever it was, it would have to wait until he found Lily. In the meantime, he would need a dry coat and fresh boots. ‘Thompson. Have Lester bring around my carriage at once.’
Something was wrong.
Chapter 16
With soggy skirts clinging, Lily trudged forward through the deepening snow, her boot landing in a deep puddle of slush.
Lord in heaven! If she had thought her feet cold before, she was gravely mistaken. Icy water splashed up her calf, then trickled into her boot and squelched between her toes. But she couldn’t stop now. Darkness encroached upon the frosty winter landscape, snow beginning to fall in earnest.
After searching the hills behind the vicarage and most of the village green, she’d returned to Etford Park just long enough to change into her old clothes for fear of ruining her new work dress. Bad enough she would have to explain to Lady Cecily her extended absence, but she shuddered to think what Mrs Godfrey would do if she ruined her new clothes.
She tightened the worn woolen shawl around her shoulders as the wind whipped up and sliced through the thin pelisse like a knife. Fog billowed from her mouth and her lungs ached with the effort to breathe.
But none of this discomfort compared to the fear of losing her sister. Determination burned brightly inside, kept her warm enough to carry on.
The string-tied parcel she carried felt as though it weighed five times heavier than when she first began searching. Inside the waxed paper bundle was a heavy blanket she took from the vicarage – just in case her sister needed warmth immediately.
The strings had begun to cut through her fine gloves, biting into her skin along with the bitter cold.
Odd she should find herself wishing for her hands to be colder, just so she couldn’t feel the pain anymore. Lord, she must be losing her mind.
Perhaps if she just rested a few moments. Just until she caught her breath. But stopping meant running the risk of losing the last remaining light. Thoughts of her poor sister alone and out in the snow for another night was too much to bear. Who would hold her sibling when she had nightmares and sooth her back to sleep? No. She had to keep going.
She swapped the parcel to her other hand and headed along the road near Etford Park, knowing of a forest glen near the estate Stephaney had explored some months ago. After searching around the village, it was the only other place she could think to look.
She shuddered as a carriage passed by, its wheels spraying her with little darts of dirty sleet. Oh, couldn’t they see her so close to the road? She paused to wipe her face, only to realize she couldn’t feel her skin at all.
Fighting the sudden tiredness threatening to overwhelm her, she dragged her near frozen feet through the muddy slush, moving once more to the very edge of the road as the thudding clop of horse hooves approached from somewhere behind her.
She only hoped the driver would be more considerate than the last. She didn’t need to be sprayed with muck again.
She glanced up at the team of bay mares trotting past her, heavy clouds of steam billowing from their noses like a powerful steam engine she’d once seen in an exhibition her papa had taken her to in London.
Through the freezing cold, her chest ached with longing. How she missed her papa.
‘Miss Bowden?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m moving aside. But there really isn’t anywhere for me to go.’ She kept walking, wishing the carriage occupant to blazes for their impatience.
‘Miss Bowden. Lily. For God’s sake, madam, will you stop walking.’
Captain Holsworthy? She stopped and turned, squinting through the falling snow at the figure coming out of the open carriage door.
She shivered as icy water trickled down her neck. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was just about to ask you the same.’
Drenched and bedraggled, she turned and attempted to continue. Oh, why did he have to see her this way? She was torn between wanting to shout at him for leaving her alone and wanting him to hold her while she pounded against him and poured out her tired heart.
But, the simple truth was – he had left her. And it hurt.
Despite her exhaustion, something inside her ordered the command to flee. ‘I’m running an errand. I’m p…perfectly fine.’
‘I have never yet taken you for a simpleton, so please don’t force my opinion to alter.’ He reached out and took hold of her arm. ‘Damn, fool of a woman, cease walking at once.’
She stopped, turned and glared at him. At least, she thought she glared at him. Either that or her eyelids had frozen open. And for the life
of her she couldn’t stop her treacherous jaw from trembling. ‘Is…s that s…so? Some m… might think getting into your carriage alone would be foolish.’
Before she could stutter another word of protest, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her from the ground and into the waiting carriage.
The soft warmth inside took her breath away and stung like fire against her cheeks.
He followed behind her, near pushed her onto one of the seats. ‘Sit down.’
As she ungracefully plonked onto one of the plush upholstered seats, she finally remembered to breathe, the cold air rushing from her lungs.
‘There, I’m sitting. Satisfied? But I…I cannot stay.’ Blasted cold making her stutter.
‘Why?’
‘I told you. I have an urgent errand to run.’ She glanced anxiously out the window. The sun was nearly set. ‘Perhaps if you would be just kind enough to take me to where this road meets Heron Forest?’
‘You are going nowhere until you tell me what in blazes is going on.’
‘Well. If you had been here this past week, then maybe you would know.’
‘For God’s sake, know what? I come home after a wretched night in the snow, with a lame horse only to be informed that you had gone astray. Which, by the way, seems to be quite a habit of yours according to Mrs Godfrey.’
‘My little sister is missing!’ Anger and exhaustion made the words near choke in her throat. Damn it. She’d promised herself never to cry in front of him. She sniffed back the tears and tried to stand, but her legs cramped painfully, and she fell back down on the seat.
The silence around her seemed to thicken until she could barely breathe. ‘Forgive me.’ His sincere gaze held hers and for a moment, she found an odd sense of comfort in their deep blue depths.
She swallowed then cleared her throat. ‘Why apologize? You weren’t to know. In fact, it isn’t your responsibility to know.’ She leaned forward, picked up the parcel and placed it upon her lap. ‘Now, just let me out here, I will continue to look for her.’
