by S. White
Simon found his friend at a secluded table by a window which looked out on St. James Street. It had started to snow again. David stared out the window watching a snowflake slide down the glass.
“Do you mind if I join you, David?” Simon stood beside the table.
David looked up and smiled. “Of course not, Simon. I didn't know you were back in London.” Simon settled in the other chair across from his friend. “I arrived yesterday.”
“Was a visit to your family so terrible that you had to rush back to the city?” David flashed his friend a mischievous grin.
“No, of course not. Well, other than I had to strike a deal with my mother.” Simon motioned for a waiter to bring another glass and another bottle of brandy.
“What sort of deal?”
“I have two years to find a bride and marry by my birthday on December twenty-sixth or at least betrothed by that date.”
“Is that all. Your mother has been after you to wed since you turned twenty-five. What has changed, Simon?”
The waiter sat the glass and the bottle on their table before he quietly left. David poured his friend a drink from the nearly empty bottle.
“I agreed to the deal and I have found … the woman I wish to marry,” Simon said. “I think.”
“You have? Who is this paragon?”
Instead of answering Simon asked his own question. “What can you tell me about Lord Richards' death?”
David was surprised by the change of topic. “Lord Richards? It was in the Times. A few days before Christmas, of all times to put paid to his existence. He shot himself in his study.”
“Did the papers say why he did such a thing?” Simon knew what the butler had told him, but he wanted confirmation.
“Well, it seems Lord Titus Richards invested heavily. His Man of Affairs handled all the transactions. The man skipped the country with all Lord Richards' money. The poor man didn't have anything left to pay his creditors,” David said. “That about sums it up. A real pity. I heard he had inherited a mountain of debt from his father when he assumed the title. He was just trying to get out from under it all.”
“He should have hired Levi Hoskins. The man has worked miracles with my money,” Simon said. “The Marquess of Treyhorne recommended him to me.”
“And me. The man has made me a mint,” David said. “Not that I needed it, but I do have more money for my charities.”
“What about Richards' family?” Simon wanted to learn if his friend knew Kathleen Richards and what became of her.
“Didn't have any as far I know. No, wait. I believe I heard he had a daughter. She was at a school for girls and had returned to London just before he … you know.”
“Do you know what happened to her? I am sure everything was sold to pay the man's debts. Did some relative take the girl in?” Simon was sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear what his friend knew.
“I don't think he had any family except the daughter. I have no idea what happened to her. Why all these the questions about Richards?”
“I sort of met Kathleen Richards at the Braxton's Christmas Ball. She is enchanting, David. I want her for my bride. All I have of her is this.” Simon took a pale pink dancing slipper from inside his coat pocket and laid it on the table.
“A slipper? I don't understand.”
Simon told his friend the whole story of how he met Kathleen and how he couldn't get the woman out of his mind. He even admitted he kept the slipper on his person most of the time. His friend probably thought he was obsessed or deranged.
“Well, what do you think, David.? How can I find her? I plan a visit to Richards old townhouse to see if the new owner knows anything.”
David looked thoughtful. “You are serious about this? This is not a whim or a fairy tale like Cinderella's lost slipper?”
“No, of course not. I want to get to know the girl before I ask her to wed me, but I have to find her first.” Simon's lips curled up in a hopeful smile.
“You could pay a visit to Richards townhouse, but I doubt the new owner can tell you anything. Perhaps ...”
“Perhaps what?”
“Perhaps you should hire a Bow Street Runner. I hear they are very good at this sort of thing. Or … a detective service. Runners rarely stray out of London. Detectives go wherever their leads take them.”
Simon jumped up from his seat. “I will consider it. See you later, David.”
“Wait, Simon.” David waved his hand at someone who had just entered the club.
Simon gave his friend an impatient look but sat back down.
The man sauntered over to their table. Lord Gregory St. John took the empty seat.
Gregory was Lord Justin St. John, the Marquess of Treyhorne's cousin. He used to be sort of a rogue and a spy until he married his wife, Olivia. Now he is settled in domestic bliss.
“Well met, gentlemen. I hope your Christmas was joyful,” Gregory St. John said, with a wiry smile.
“Oh, very. I was wondering if you know any good and honest Bow Street Runners.”
Gregory grinned. “What's the matter? Did a servant make off with the Family silver?”
David glanced at Simon. “No, nothing like that. Simon is searchin for a ... missing friend.”
Gregory rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, there is Tom Blanchard. He is a good friend of Viscountess Stonebridge. Not many people know this, but the Viscount was kidnapped last year. Tom was relentless in following the trail of the kidnappers. Lady Sarah told me Blanchard was made inspector because of his diligence.”
Simon smiled. “Thank you. I am heading to Bow Street now. I will ask for Tom Blanchford. I just hope he is available to help me.”
Gregory scratch his chin. “This person must be very important to you.”
“Oh, she is. Very important.”
David just shook his head as he watched his friend jump from his chair and hasten across the club and out the door.
Gregory smiled. “Well, that was interesting.”
David laughed. “You don’t know the half if, my friend. By far.”
Both men sipped their drinks in silence contemplation.
❄Chapter Four ❄
Simon decided to stop off at the old Richards' townhouse. It wouldn't take long to ask a few question. To his surprise, Simon was shown into the study of the new owner of the Richards townhouse.
Mr. Ebeneezer Smith was a middle-aged man who had made his money from the importing and exporting good. In other words—trade.
He knew Richards had a daughter but didn't know what happened to her. She wasn't present when he took possession of the house.
The man introduced Simon to his two whey-faced daughters. Mr. Smith hoped to rise up the Social ladder by marrying his daughters to titled gentlemen.
This visit to the Richards townhouse was a complete waste of his time.
Simon had delayed long enough. His next stop was the Bow Street office where things looked up a little. Fortunately, Tom Blanchard had finished his last case. Simon hired him on the spot. The man hadn't been with Bow Street long, but apparently, he was a bulldog. He rose up to the position of inspector rather quickly. Blanchard never gave up on a case. That was exactly what Simon needed.
A few days later, Thomas Blanchard sent around a note asking if he could pay Simon a call.
At two in the afternoon, the Bow Street detective was at his door. Simon had the man shown into his study.
“Please sit,” Simon said, with a smile.
Tom Blanchard settled into a high-back chair across the desk from Simon.
“Thank you, my lord,” Tom said. “I thought I would keep you up to date on my progress.”
Simon could understand why Tom Blanchard made inspector so quickly. He knew the man was a farmer's son, but he spoke as well as an Oxford graduate and apparently could write more than just his name.
“Have you found her?”
“No, my lord, not yet. I did find the school she attended. It is in Lincolnshire. Th
e name was Mrs. Ross' School for Young Ladies. I talked to the headmistress. She wasn't very helpful at first. I had to spin some tale about an inheritance before the woman gave me any kind of information. Miss Richards records showed there were no listings of relatives other than her father.”
“That's it?”
“No, my lord. Mrs. Ross was very fond of Miss Richards. She told me, Miss Richards returned to the school after her father's death. Mrs. Ross knew of a family who needed a governess. She sent her there.”
“Did you follow up?”
“I did, my lord. Miss Richards left that position for reasons unknown only the day before I arrived. The lady of the house said she was sorry to see her go but did not have any idea where she went. I will, of course, keep searching.”
Simon rose from his chair. “Thank you, Mr. Blanchard. Spare no expense.”
“I will do my best, but to tell you the truth, if a person wishes to disappear it would not be hard for them to do so.”
Simon shook Tom Blanchard's hand. “Just do your best. I guess I need a miracle.”
Tom Blanchard nodded. “Indeed you do, my lord.”
❄
This year's Season was to begin soon, and a whole new crop of debutantes would be making their debut. Simon expected his youngest sister would be among them, but his mother had written and told him Emily wanted to wait another year. He supposed his mother would expect him to look them over, but his heart wasn't in it.
He didn't want to choose another bride. He wanted Kathleen Richards. Simon only hoped Tom Blanchard came up with something.
This waiting was so hard. He felt he should be doing something to find the woman he loved. She could be in trouble and he wouldn't be there to help her.
❄Chapter Five ❄
Before Simon could attend his first ball of the Season, he received a missive from Thomas Blanchard. It gave him more hope than he had in the last six months. The Bow Street Runner's every lead had gone nowhere. Maybe this time was different.
Tom Blanchard arrived at ten the next morning. Simon anxiously awaited his arrived in his study. When Tom appeared he was surprised by the man's appearance. Not that he hadn't dressed neatly before in well-tailor pants and coat.
This time, he was dressed more like a gentleman in a tan superfine jacket with dark brown nankeen breeches. He could see a pure white shirt under his cravat which was tied in the mathematical style. A small emerald stickpin winked at him.
Simon must have shown his surprise for he saw the man blush. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I thought it might be better to appear at the Coatsworth residence as two gentlemen seeking their sister.”
Simon rose from his chair. “Excellent idea, Mister Blanchard.”
“Please, call me Tom.”
“Very well, Tom. I will have the carriage brought around.”
Twenty minutes later, the two men left Simon's London townhouse. They both looked at the dark sky.
They were ensconced in Simon's carriage with carriage rugs covering their legs and hot bricks at their feet. Even though it was the beginning of Spring, the weather held a slight chill.
The two were on their way to North Hampshire despite the promise of snow.
Simon studied the Bow Street Runner for a moment as the man gazed out the carriage window. Tom appeared to be a couple of years younger than himself and rather a handsome fellow. He certainly didn't look like a farmer's son.
“Tell me, Tom, where do you come from?”
Tom Blanchard turned to stare at his employer for a moment before he answered. “I was born and raised at Hedley Park. My Father is a tenant of the Earl of Hedley.”
Simon was thoughtful for a moment. “And you didn't want to be a farmer?”
“I am not the eldest son. I thought I could better my life elsewhere. Not that I don't miss my family. I try to visit whenever I can. The earl's daughter, Sarah Wilton, taught me and my brothers to read and write.”
“So you are a friend of Lady Sarah's?”
Tom was rather vague in his reply. “We keep in touch now and then.” He fell silent. “I know you aren't required to tell me why you are searching for Kathleen Richards, but I would like to know.”
Simon didn't see any harm in telling the man. The only other person to know was his friend, David. “This may sound utterly crazy, but I swear it is the truth. At the last Braxton Christmas Ball, I found the woman I want to spend my life with.”
“Kathleen Richards?”
“Precisely. At the time I didn't think it would be so hard to find her. I didn't know about her father's death until I returned to London after Boxing Day. If I had ...”
“I understand. Perhaps, this trip will see your dream come true and Kathleen Richards will be where she is reported to be.”
“I hope so.” Simon nodded. “I don't want to get my hopes up and be disappointed again.”
❄
They arrived at the Coatsworth residence the following day. Simon asked the butler to see the lady of the house. He showed them to a front parlor before he left to inform his mistress of her visitors.
Tom seated himself in a high-back chair. Simon was too nervous to sit so he paced the room.
A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman appeared. She eyed the gentlemen with concern. The woman finally curtsied since she could see her visitors were gentlemen. They offered her a polite bow.
“I am Ovelia Coatsworth. How may I help you, gentlemen?”
Simon opened his mouth to speak but couldn't get the words out.
It was Tom who finally answered. “We are searching for our sister, Kathleen Richards. We were told she was employed here as a governess.”
Ovelia frowned. “Kathleen never mentioned having any family.”
Simon found his voice. “Kathleen is our half-sister. We were in Italy when her father died so we didn't know of her situation until we returned recently.”
“Oh, dear. I am so sorry. Kathleen left us a couple of days ago. It was quite sudden, you see.”
Simon sat down before he could fall down. “I see.”
“Do you perhaps know where she has gone. We are desperate to find her,” Tom said after glancing at Simon's pale face.
“No, I'm sorry. I don't know where she went.” Ovelia crunched her handkerchief nervously in her hand.
Simon found his voice again. “Do you know why she left?”
Ovelia's eyes dropped to her lap. “No, I'm sorry. I don't.” She rose from her seat. “If there is nothing else, Jamison will show you out.”
Lady Coatsworth breezed out the door before the butler appeared. The man showed them to the door.
Simon and Tom were soon on their way again.
“I'm sorry, my lord. I thought for sure I had found her this time,” Tom said after they had been traveling for a while.
Simon looked up from contemplating his gloved hands. “I thought the woman would offer us refreshments.”
Tom smiled. “That was very rude. I have a feeling that she didn’t want us to linger over long.”
“Yes, it was.” Simon fell silent. “This is not your fault. We missed her by one day. One blasted day!”
“I think that woman is hiding something. She knows more than she’s saying.”
“I agree. All we can do now is start over. I am not giving up, Tom.”
“I am glad to hear it, my lord.”
Both men fell silent as Simon's coach carried them back to London.
While it didn't snow on their way to North Hampshire, they had only been on the road for an hour or two before the sky let loose its load of white stuff.
It took them two day to make the trip back to London due to the unexpected storm.
They spent two nights at a coaching inn until the roads cleared and they could continue the journey back to London.
They had a long and disappointed journey. Simon knew he had hired the best man for the job, but perhaps, Thomas Blanchard's best wasn't good enough.
Will I ever find my K
athleen or is my quest a lost cause? Perhaps accept the fact that I will never find the love of my life. Never!
❄Chapter Six ❄
Six Months Later
Simon Audley sat at his desk with his feet propped up on the edge enjoying a brandy. A fire roared in the fireplace. The days were becoming colder as Christmas neared. It had already snowed once. The white powder had blanketed London for days. This holiday used to be his favorite, but not for the last couple of years.