Emma sniffled, which caused Aidan to hate himself just a bit more than before.
“But…”
“But nothing.” Niall put out both arms for the ladies to take. “Come along. We can’t stay out here waiting for someone else to be hurt.”
“Someone’s been hurt?” one of the other ladies said. “Oh, heavens.”
As a group, the lot of them made their way back along the path toward the main house, leaving Aidan behind.
He watched them, debating for a moment whether he should go with them or ignore his own counsel and continue the search. But then Emma stopped and looked back at him, and her tears twinkled in the moonlight.
All he could do was shake his head.
She turned around again and followed after the others, leaving Aidan alone to ponder his descent into madness.
“Did anyone check near the river?”
The silence which fell over the drawing room after Lord Roxeburghe’s question was heavy and thick, like syrup. Emma heard every breath taken, every shift of fabric upon a chair, every swallow. She wished someone would say something, anything, so her thoughts wouldn’t go back to Morgan at the river.
But no one spoke. No one moved, until Aidan thundered to his feet and stalked from the room, intentionally tossing over a chair as he went.
Emma started to follow after him until she remembered that, yet again, he hated her. He blamed her for Morgan’s disappearance, as irrational as such a thing may be. Which only meant that for three years, he had apparently blamed her for what had happened in the river.
The knowledge of why he’d hated her for so long didn’t ease the ache that had filled her gut since they’d left the hermitage this afternoon. If anything, it only intensified the sense of emptiness, the hollow pang that had been consuming her. How would he ever come to love her? She couldn’t fathom a life without his love now, but it seemed it was to be her fate.
At last, David cleared his throat. “We’ll split into teams again in the morning and begin the search anew—starting at first light. We should all try to get a good night’s rest, however difficult such a prospect may be.”
They filed out of the drawing room, talking quietly in small groups as they went, and Vanessa came over to sit beside Emma on the settee.
“Come,” she said. “You won’t be any use to Morgan tomorrow if you don’t rest tonight.”
Emma couldn’t calm the thoughts that were racing through her mind. “I’ll just go out and check on Kingley once more.”
“Kingley is fine,” David said from behind her. “We’ve already seen to that. He doesn’t need you.”
Kingley may not need her, but Emma needed him. She needed someone or something she could hold onto, someone whose neck she could wrap her arms around and have a good cry, someone who wouldn’t think any less of her for doing it. “I’ll just be—”
“You’ll just be off to bed,” Vanessa cut in.
Emma looked from her sister to her brother-in-law, hoping one of the two would see things her way, but neither gave her any sign they would aid her cause. Instead, she let them help her to her feet. Vanessa walked with her all the way to the ladies’ wing. After the door closed behind her, it was a few moments before Emma heard the sound of her sister’s footsteps heading in the opposite direction.
Of course, now there was Fanny to deal with. She allowed the maid to assist her in changing out of her gown and into a nightrail. For the maid’s benefit, Emma even got into her bed, tucked neatly beneath her counterpane…but she had a book with her.
“Leave the candle, please,” she said sweetly, so Fanny wouldn’t think anything was amiss. “I’m hoping to finish this book tonight.” She might have said it too sweetly, because the maid narrowed her eyes before bobbing a curtsey and closing the door behind her.
Emma tried to read for a few minutes, because she couldn’t go out so soon. She had to be sure no one in this wing of the house would hear her, or they would surely try to stop her. But reading proved impossible. She couldn’t force her mind to focus on the words on the page. It kept jumping around from thought to thought, and in a wildly erratic manner, no less.
She wished she could take Serena with her, but that didn’t seem such a brilliant plan of action. Someone might hear her when she went to Serena’s door, and that was a risk she just wasn’t willing to take.
When finally she heard nothing else coming from the corridor, Emma threw off the coverlet, pulled on a wrapper, picked up her candle, and padded as quietly as she could to the door.
Before going fully out into the hall, she peeked around the doorway to both sides, making certain she wouldn’t be seen by a random houseguest who was up too late at night. She didn’t see anyone, and the footmen had already been through to extinguish the wall sconces, so she took a full step out.
The risk of being caught and sent back to her chamber like a naughty child weighed so heavily on her mind that she hurried through the corridors and down the stairs faster than she ever would have otherwise. Most times, if she attempted to avoid detection, she would take the servants’ stairs and halls in order to get to where she was going. But the servants were the ones most likely to be up and about at this hour, so she used the main pathways.
Finally, she reached the door to the east gardens and escaped outside without being detected. She’d been most concerned, perhaps, about the possibility of Aidan poking his head in and impeding her progress. When she stepped out into the cool, night air, it was as though Kingley had been waiting for her, like he knew she would come. She’d barely closed the door before he let out a bark and ran to her side, jumping up excitedly.
Emma dropped to her knees, set the candleholder carefully on the ground, and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into an embrace. He let out a series of happy yaps and shoved his head into her hands so she could scratch his ears.
“Where did Morgan go, Kingley?” she murmured, not that she expected him to answer. He was just a dog. He didn’t really understand her, no matter how smart he might be and no matter how quickly he’d learned to guide her friend.
But that was just the thing—he might not understand her question, but he did understand that Morgan was his responsibility. He would never have left her willingly.
Even if, as had been prodding at her mind, Morgan had removed Kingley’s lead and tried to shoo him away, he wouldn’t have left her. In their training, it had become increasingly clear that he knew there was something different about Morgan, that he knew she needed his protection in addition to his guidance.
Morgan hadn’t tried to hurt herself again. There wasn’t a doubt in Emma’s mind.
And she hadn’t gotten lost or innocently separated from Kingley.
Someone else was involved. Someone else had taken Kingley’s lead from around his neck and convinced him to leave Morgan.
Which meant that someone had to have done something to Morgan. Someone Kingley trusted, no less.
She couldn’t sit around and try to sleep while Morgan could be hurt…or dead, however grim the thought may be. It wasn’t a possibility. Especially not now that she had realized, beyond any doubt, that someone had intentionally meant harm toward her friend.
How could she find Morgan, though? What could she do in the dark, alone, to help her friend? Kingley whined at her side, and she absentmindedly put her hand down for him to nuzzle. He licked and sniffed her, then nudged her hand again, and she knew what they must do. Taking her candlestick again, she raced back into the house and up to Morgan’s chamber. Since Morgan was missing, Janetta wouldn’t be about—so Emma threw open the trunk in the dressing room and searched for a piece of clothing that would smell strongly of Morgan’s scent.
She found a soiled shift, likely one Morgan had worn for one of their outdoor sessions, and then hurried back out to Kingley. “Here, Kingley. Smell this. Smell Morgan.”
He sniffed deeply, moving his head back and forth over the garment.
Then she stood and walked across t
he lawn, carrying her candlestick and Morgan’s shift. “Come on, Kingley. Let’s go find her.”
He came along by her side, his head low to the ground as they went. He understood.
And they would find her.
Maybe then Aidan would see she’d never meant his sister any harm. Maybe then he could believe it.
Aidan dragged a pillow from beneath his head and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud and then fell to the floor. The action felt so good, he repeated the process until every pillow from his damned bed was on the floor at the other side of the room. After that, he leapt up and pulled the bedding free, thinking it might give him a similar satisfaction.
But even when the entire bed had been disassembled, its various parts strewn across the Parquet floor of his chamber, he still felt just as angry as he had before getting started on it all in the first place.
The truly perplexing thing was he was no longer angry at Emma.
When Roxeburghe had so casually suggested searching the river, it had been like a hot knife piercing Aidan’s heart. But it was a slow thrust, inch by inch, dragging out the pain until he was ready to beg for death, because it only confirmed what Aidan had already been thinking: what if Morgan had attempted to hurt herself again? What if she’d been successful this time?
He’d left to search the river, despite the full darkness of the night, and despite the dropping temperatures, yet there had been nothing to find in the inky-black waters. Morgan’s body had not washed up on the bank. He couldn’t see her bobbing on the top of the water in the estuary. And with no light but the moon, he’d never be able to dive beneath the surface and see anything. He was a fool to even have gone.
By the time he’d returned to the estate, the rest of the houseguests had gone to bed—including Emma. On his walk back, he’d thought about how he should apologize to her for his reaction. How he should once again try to convince her that yes, he truly did love her, that he hadn’t just been trying to convince her he did.
For a moment, he hadn’t been so certain—when his thoughts had turned to how she’d supposedly aided Morgan in potentially harming herself again. But even if Morgan had done so, if she’d tried to drown herself or found a poison that could finish the job, Emma couldn’t have possibly known that had been her aim.
He knew, without any doubt that Emma only wanted to help people. She was good, and kind, and would never harm a fly if she could avoid it.
So why would he think otherwise?
And yet again, it all came back to Aidan’s inability to place the blame where it truly ought to lay.
For this disappearance, that blame ought to rest with either Morgan, or with someone else who wished to harm her.
But it most certainly was not Emma’s fault. None of it was. If anything, Emma had proven by going out into the woods earlier with some of the other ladies that she wanted to help Morgan, yet again.
And he’d treated her like she was an imbecile for doing so.
There was another thing he’d have to apologize to her for. Damn. He’d never been very good at apologizing, but he’d accumulated quite a list—one which only seemed to grow—to increase his skill in that area. He needed to swallow his pride and admit that he wasn’t always right, that sometimes others might know better than he.
He needed to start making amends. Now, not tomorrow. Aidan didn’t want one more moment to go by with Emma thinking he hated her. Not only that, but if they worked together—if they combined what Aidan knew of Morgan with what Emma saw in her which Aidan was blind to, they would have much better luck with finding her.
They had to join forces. They had to work together. There was no other option, or he might lose his sister forever.
Without truly thinking of the consequences, he stalked out into the corridor, yanked one of the few still-lit sconces from the wall, and made his way to the ladies’ wing. He knew which chamber was Morgan’s, as he’d helped her settle in when they first arrived, and she’d informed him Emma’s was the chamber to her right.
In order to get to Emma’s he had to walk directly past Morgan’s…so he couldn’t help but notice that the door was ajar.
He went in and passed the light over the room. Nothing seemed to be amiss in the main room, but the door to the dressing room had been left open wide, which Aidan thought was more than just a little odd. Janetta always left Morgan’s doors closed, because it was what Morgan expected. There was little more important to Morgan in terms of finding her way around on her own than having things be as she expected them to be.
Surprises were not a good thing, when one lived by touch and sound, and not by sight.
Aidan went into the dressing room, and his heart nearly stopped. The whole room appeared to be ransacked, with the armoire doors thrown open, clothing tossed about all over…but the most damning thing of all was that Morgan’s trunk had been almost completely emptied.
Aidan tried to think what someone would have been after, but nothing came to mind. Morgan didn’t wear much jewelry. Her skin was so sensitive after it had been scarred, that she didn’t like the feel of jewels upon it. They’d brought very little else of true value with them.
Had she been attacked in the woods, and when the attacker didn’t find what they wanted, they searched her chamber?
But that meant it had to be someone in the house party.
Good God.
Without wasting another moment, Aidan raced out of Morgan’s chamber and down the corridor to Emma’s. He threw open the door without knocking.
She was gone.
Truly, Emma’s plan to go off into the woods with nothing but a nightrail and wrapper, a half-gone candlestick, and Kingley hadn’t been one of the brighter moments of her life.
After being out for what had to have been more than an hour, the chill in the air was biting, easily blowing through the thin fabrics covering her and making her wish she’d taken the time to don something more substantial. Something more practical.
Practicality had never been one of her strengths, much to the chagrin of nearly everyone in her life.
She’d gone too far to turn back now and give up on her plan. And as it stood, every moment which passed could bring them one moment closer to Morgan’s death. Emma pressed on, following where Kingley led her and wishing she would stop shivering so heavily.
Kingley kept his nose down to the ground as they walked, sniffing every inch of terrain he passed over. After they’d gone for ten minutes or so, Emma would put Morgan’s shift down again, reminding him of the scent they were searching for. Surely, soon he would pick up her trail. Surely they had to be getting close.
But the further they went into the woods, the more the scant bits of moonlight coming through the tree cover waned. Emma wasn’t certain if that was because the canopy above them had grown thicker, or if it was a sign of impending rain.
Her feet hurt, and her house shoes provided her very little protection against the rocks and brambles along their path. At least they were still taking the path. Emma feared they might have to veer off into the lesser-traveled areas at some point. There was no telling how her slippers would survive, let alone how her nightrail and wrapper would fare, if she were to get caught in low branches or bushes.
A bit later, a stiff breeze kicked up which extinguished the flame of her candle. It was a miracle the flame had lasted as long as it had.
Now she had nothing to light her way but the thin streams of moonlight that filtered through the trees.
“Kingley?” she said, and he yapped. She bent down and gave him Morgan’s shift again, wishing there was a lead for him. What would happen if he got away from her? The thought was more than Emma wanted to allow herself. There was no time for her to panic. “Stay close with me.”
Before they took off again, Emma set her candlestick on the ground. With no more flame, there was no point in carrying it, and the metal of the holder was cold upon her skin. She was chilled enough without the additional discomfort.
Emma followed him, so tired she occasionally stumbled over her own feet, but she would not give in to her exhaustion.
After another stretch of time, she couldn’t fool herself any longer. The lack of moonlight wasn’t due to the the trees being thicker. It was because of heavy clouds rolling in with the wind.
That brought a new sense of urgency to her step, a rekindled sense of purpose to scanning her surroundings.
“Do you smell her yet, Kingley? We have to find Morgan.”
He started to move faster, or maybe she only felt like he was moving faster because she was moving slower. She tried to increase her pace to keep in step with the dog.
After a few minutes, she walked over more uneven terrain, and she knew they’d gone off the main path though she’d missed the change. That had to be a positive sign. Kingley wouldn’t have gone off the trail without a good reason for it, would he?
“Is it Morgan?” she asked him. It had to be. There wasn’t another explanation.
He kept moving, so she kept following. Kingley barked. Emma tried to run as fast as she could on her battered feet. When she increased her pace, the dog bolted, and soon he was outpacing her by a good deal.
It didn’t seem to matter how fast she ran. She couldn’t keep up with him, no matter how hard she tried. His barks grew more distant, and she couldn’t see him in the few bits of moonlight any more.
And then she couldn’t hear him either.
Emma kept going, desperate not to lose Kingley, too, but growing ever more certain that she’d already done so. After a few minutes, she couldn’t see him anymore, couldn’t hear his yaps or the patter of his feet upon the ground. He was gone, and she was alone.
She stopped and dropped to the ground in defeat, gasping for air and holding the pain in her side. What had she done?
Emma wasn’t certain how long she sat there, almost in tears with her arms wrapped around knees that had been drawn up to her chest for warmth. All she knew was that she was cold and tired, and she’d failed Morgan. And Aidan. She’d failed everyone, and morning couldn’t come soon enough.
Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon Page 26
