“Now, now, just give Lindsay a little time. How can the churchwomen not warm to her? She’s such a sweet young thing.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, I think that’s almost a drawback. If only she were a little more forceful, a little stronger to face all that she must face.”
Jonah chuckled. “Are you certain that’s what Damien needs?”
“What do you mean?” came Florence’s sharp tone.
“Maybe it’s time Damien had someone to look after, someone that needs to lean on him for a bit.”
“Oh, Jonah, if he needs anyone right now, it will be someone who can weather the coming times. What will the bishop say? Damien told me in no uncertain terms that we were not to say anything to Lindsay. Oh, what has she brought on poor Damien!”
Lindsay heard no more. She imagined from the murmurings that Jonah had taken his wife in his arms.
She wrapped her own arms around herself, wishing she had someone to run to and seek comfort from. When she heard further movement in the kitchen, she backed away, fearful of being discovered.
She forgot her tea and hurried up to her room, sick with worry. Would Damien be dismissed? Would he lose everything? And why hadn’t he told her anything?
“How was your time at the orphanage?”
Damien looked up from his plate and tried to muster a smile for his pretty wife. Wife. He still felt a sense of amazement every time he uttered the term, even in his mind. How could this beautiful, ethereal creature be bound to him in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of the Church, the law?
“Very good,” he replied. He hesitated to go into any detail for he knew she wanted to accompany him to the orphanage. Thus far, he’d put her off with vague excuses, insisting he didn’t want to overtax her with all her new responsibilities at the parsonage.
But every time he glimpsed the disappointment in her eager face and watched the light slowly fade from her eyes, he felt afresh the constant struggle to keep his distance from her, for her own good.
Every day he had to fight to stay away from her when all he wanted to do was see her every moment. And every night he had to stay put in his study to keep from running after her when she ascended to her room.
“Were the boys well behaved?” she asked.
“Yes. Jonah is always adept at keeping the unruly ones under control.” He looked down at his plate, his mind going back to the correspondence he’d received from the Bishop of London. Despite his assurances to Florence, he was troubled by the communication. He’d thought his involvement in his brother-in-law’s escape from the law would have been dismissed when Jonah had received his royal pardon.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”
He looked up again, startled, and realized he had been silent for some minutes. “I need to work in the study a bit. I’m preparing some written documents.”
“Your sermon?”
He looked away from her, his cheeks flushing. “Yes, and other things.” The last thing he wanted to do was worry Lindsay. “What about you?” he asked, needing to get the focus off himself. “Do you have anything special planned? How are you coming along with the women of the congregation?”
“Fine.” Though she smiled, her tone held no enthusiasm.
He gazed down at her plate. She had eaten little, causing Damien to worry afresh. Was she regretting her rash decision to marry him?
Damien set down his fork and knife, his own food unfinished. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I shall go into the study.” He needed to satisfy the bishop. Above all, he mustn’t let any breath of trouble come near Lindsay. She’d already suffered enough at her father’s hands.
She looked at him a moment, then looked back down at her plate. “Will you be long?”
“I, uh—” He paused. How he longed to drop all his responsibilities and take her in his arms. How he longed to tell her his worries and fears. Instead, he rose and tucked in his chair. “I believe it will take me some hours. Please don’t wait up for me.”
It was a pity Jonah and Florence’s farm was so far from town. Things had been easier—in many ways—while they were still here in the evenings. Now that they were gone, it was difficult for Damien to resist the temptation of knocking on Lindsay’s door when he retired each evening. There was usually light visible from the crack beneath her door, light which beckoned him…but which he’d force himself to hurry by on his way to his lonely room beyond.
Lindsay spent the next morning arranging flowers at the church altar. As she set the final pink moss rose in place, she turned at the sound of footsteps. Perhaps the warden had returned to lock up behind her.
She drew in her breath at the sight of Mrs. Cooper coming up the center aisle.
Lindsay left the flowers and went to meet the woman.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cooper. How lovely to see you.”
The woman looked down her nose at her. “You will not get away with your wicked behavior.”
Lindsay fell back. “What do you mean?”
The lady eyed her up and down. “You know perfectly well what I mean. I have discovered your father was against your match and has since disowned you. You went against his wishes and moved into the parsonage without the benefit of holy matrimony!”
“I was there at the invitation of Reverend Hathaway and his sister!” Lindsay panicked, knowing she must do all in her means to protect Damien. “He did not stay at the parsonage but moved to the Nicholses’ cottage until our wedding.”
“A marriage not even sanctioned by your own father! It is as disgraceful as an elopement. How can you stand over us? You are little better than a disgraced woman.”
Lindsay had no words to defend herself. If only Mrs. Cooper knew how innocent she was of these accusations. Her husband hadn’t even touched her!
But she stood silent until Mrs. Cooper, with a final “You shan’t get away with this!” turned and marched back down the aisle.
Lindsay sat down on the stone steps to the altar, her head in her hands. What was she to do? She couldn’t stay here. Damien’s life would only get worse and worse. Florence’s words came back to her, bringing tears to her eyes. Damien had been up till past midnight in his study. Were those “written documents” he’d had to prepare some kind of defense of his conduct for the Bishop?
If Mrs. Cooper began to spread vicious rumors among the congregation—would they reach the ears of the bishop? What then?
How long she sat there, she didn’t know, but finally she rose, resolved. Entering the kitchen, she nodded to Mrs. Nichols. “I shall be going out today.”
The older woman smiled. “Would you like Betsy to accompany you?”
“No, that’s all right. I shall hail a hack. I—I’m going to visit some friends. I shall probably be out all day. Don’t expect me for dinner.”
Mrs. Nichols frowned. “Very well, madam. Take care, now.”
“Yes.”
Lindsay went up to her room and changed her dress. She put a few things into a small bag, having no idea where she’d go but knowing she couldn’t stay here any longer. Perhaps she’d be able to stay with a school friend until getting word to Beatrice. Would Beatrice be able to offer her shelter?
She left by the front door so Mrs. Nichols would not see the bag she carried.
Damien looked for Lindsay when he came out of his study for dinner. When she didn’t appear at the table and he noticed no place was set for her, he asked Betsy.
“Oh, Mum said Mrs. Hathaway went out today.”
“Thank you.” That was strange. She hadn’t mentioned anything at breakfast. Perhaps something had come up.
He popped into the kitchen to ask for the particulars.
Mrs. Nichols turned from the range. “She only said she was visiting friends.”
“Oh.” He felt both relief at knowing her whereabouts and disappointment that she’d said nothing to him about it. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “She didn’t say whom?”
“No, sir. Just that she’d be out mo
st of the day and not to expect her back for dinner.”
Could something have come up—an emergency?
“Would you like me to send Jacob out to look for her?”
He tried to smile. “No, that’s all right. I’m sure she’ll be fine. She probably went to Mayfair.”
“I’m sure she did. I’ll let you know when she returns, if she comes through here.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
He hurried through his dinner, missing Lindsay’s presence. She always took an interest in his activities. Already she had learned the name of every church member.
After his solitary meal, he sat at his desk to work on his sermon.
As the case clock in the hall chimed four, he pushed back his chair. His response to the bishop’s inquiries was almost completed, but he’d hardly written a word of his sermon. He eyed his list of other duties. There were a few parishioners he must visit. But first, he’d see if Lindsay had returned.
He frowned when Elizabeth told him she hadn’t. “’Tis a bit odd. But it’s early yet.”
He walked over to the kitchen window as if he might at that moment catch Lindsay opening the gate and walking down the garden path. But there was no one, making the scene look lonely and empty. “Any idea where she might have gone?”
“None at all, sir. She hasn’t been out much except with Florence. Such a nice, quiet girl, not gadding about like so many society ladies. And now that Florence is gone, the dear girl has hardly been out at all.”
The words pierced him. In his own efforts to preserve his distance, had he kept her shut in, never considering how she must be feeling in her new surroundings, away from all she held dear?
He donned his hat and took up his walking stick. “I’m sure she will be back any moment. Tell her I’ve just gone to call on a few parishioners and will return shortly.” Surely when he returned, Lindsay would be home.
Chapter Twelve
As soon as he entered the kitchen and saw the expectant look on Mrs. Nichols’s face, his heart sank. “She hasn’t shown up?”
“No, sir. I was sure she’d come walking in with you. Betsy’s been looking out the door every quarter hour and been up to Mrs. Hathaway’s room half a dozen times, just to make sure we didn’t miss her coming in the front. I’ll send her up now again.”
“No, that’s all right. I’ll go up myself.” He turned away from their worried faces and hurried up the stairs. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he opened her door and saw the room empty.
His shoulders slumped. Where was she? Quickly, he turned to the other rooms, hoping against hope to see her in one of them. He checked the drawing room. But her easel stood off to the side, her paints put away, the settee vacant.
On the way back downstairs, he stopped once again in her room, lingering a moment in her doorway. As he approached her dressing table, he smelled the scent of her eau de toilette. His eyes searched for the bottle but it wasn’t on the mahogany tabletop. That’s when he noticed how bare it was. There was no comb or hairbrush. He turned to scan the rest of the surface areas more closely. Her Bible was nowhere to be seen. His heart began to thud as he realized the implications.
Perhaps she’d left her Bible in the drawing room. He opened the cupboard to look at her gowns. Were any missing? He’d have no way of telling, even though she didn’t have many. He suddenly felt a stab of conscience, thinking how many gowns she must have been forced to leave behind when she’d left her home.
He turned back to the room, his brow creased. Where had she gone? He hurried to check the drawing room again. His hands shook as he picked up books from the table surfaces. There was no sign of her Bible. She wouldn’t have taken her Bible on a visit to a schoolgirl friend, would she?
One of her novels fell from his hands.
What had caused her to leave without even a note for him? She must be staying at a friend’s, but why not let him know?
Fear stabbed his gut. And hurt. Why would Lindsay leave him without a word? Had she run away? The ugly thought that he’d refused to acknowledge could no longer be denied.
Had Florence said something to her? He dismissed the thought. She wouldn’t have seen Florence today. Yesterday? He felt tempted to ride out to the farmhouse and see if they might know something, but he discarded the idea, thinking Lindsay would probably return by the time he went there and back.
By evening he was frantic. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his heart.
He peered out the window. Lord, where is she? A young lady out on the streets of London wasn’t safe. Why didn’t they keep a carriage so he could at least know she had adequate transportation about the city?
He went to find Jacob and Elizabeth, no longer attempting to hide his worry. “I’m going out to look for her.”
Jacob and Elizabeth stared at him then slowly nodded, relief on their faces. Damien grabbed his hat and stick again, this time deciding to take a hack. As he turned to walk down the path, Jacob came up behind him.
“I’ll go with you, son. Two will be better than one. Any idea where her acquaintances live?”
“Not a clue. I just thought I’d ride to Mayfair and walk around the squares in hopes of seeing her.”
They spent the next few hours doing just that, but to no avail. The streets gradually cleared of pedestrian traffic, the lamplighters lit the lamps and the watch stationed themselves in their booths.
He couldn’t imagine Lindsay alone, even in the finer quarters. He even stopped by her former house. It was an enormous house on Grosvenor Square. A carriage drove up to the entrance. Damien watched from across the street, debating whether to present himself.
An elegant couple descended from the coach and made their way to the entrance. A liveried servant opened the door for them. Sounds of music came from within.
Jacob nudged him. “You know the place?”
“It’s Lindsay’s home.”
Jacob merely nodded. After a moment, he said, “If you’d like, I’ll ring at the service entrance and ask if anyone’s seen her.”
He considered, then shook his head. “I doubt they’d tell you. It looks like her father is entertaining. I don’t think she would be here in that case.” Her father’s life certainly seemed to have gone on without his daughter. As far as Damien knew, Mr. Phillips had made no overtures to Lindsay since her marriage.
“I’m sure she’s returned to the parsonage, Damien.”
“Yes, I’m certain of it myself.”
They hailed another hack and rode back in silence. When they returned Betsy hurried out. “Is she with you?”
“She’s not here?” Jacob asked at the same time. Instead of entering the parsonage, Damien turned down the street. Jacob immediately asked, “Where are you going?”
Damien rubbed a hand wearily across his face.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jacob offered.
“No. Stay here. I’ll just be walking in the vicinity. If she should return—”
“I’ll look for you immediately.”
“Thank you.”
“Be careful, Damien. The streets aren’t safe at night.”
The cool evening air stung his eyes. Where was she? Was she cold? Hurt? Banishing images of her lying beaten and robbed in some alley, Damien strode down the front walk and onto Edgware Road. How he wished Jonah were with him.
There was no one and nothing on the wide road. Only a few lights twinkled from the row of houses farther down. He made his way toward Hyde Park Corner and the toll gate there.
He looked down Oxford Street where some coach traffic still traveled. Turning the opposite way, he headed down Uxbridge Road where everything was dark. A thousand terrible thoughts crowded into his mind of all the possibilities that could befall a young woman out alone on the streets at night.
Dear God, Show me where she is. Let her be safe inside somewhere. He didn’t even know what friends she might have. How remiss he’d been, not
finding out more of her world. He’d been so busy avoiding her that he’d neglected even the most basic attentions.
Jabbing his walking stick into the road, he started off, drawn to the chapel. He needed the Lord’s direction.
He passed the fashionable new stucco houses along St. George’s Row and entered into the silent churchyard. Approaching the heavy studded doors, he took the key from his pocket, unlocked one and eased it open. The dark sanctuary greeted him. He always felt an immediate sense of peace when he entered the empty building.
He walked down the center aisle, giving God thanks for His comfort and grace. He wished he’d brought a lantern. No matter, his eyes would soon adjust and he didn’t need light to pray.
He reached the altar. Before kneeling down, he turned and scanned the area before him, thinking how different the church was when there was no one there. He squinted at a shadowy bundle on the front pew. Hesitating only an instant, he walked toward it.
It was a person. How had someone gotten into the church? His heart pounding wildly, he bent down. The next second a cloud shifted, allowing a glimmer of moonlight to shine through the stained-glass window. He almost collapsed in relief at the sight of Lindsay’s golden locks.
He touched her lightly. “Lindsay?”
“Wha—?” Her disoriented voice signaled her waking. Her eyes widened with alarm. He immediately tightened his hold on her arm, afraid she’d fall off the pew as she began to sit up.
“Where am I? Damien!”
“Easy there. You’re all right.” Relief poured through him so he could hardly speak. He sat beside her, putting his arm around her, trying to refrain from clutching her to himself. Gratitude at having found her unharmed was the only thought in his mind.
The next second she collapsed against his chest, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Damien! I’m so sorry!”
His alarm rekindled and he tightened his hold on her. “Are you hurt?” He tried to move her away from him to see, but her hands clutched harder at his coat and she shook her head against him.
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