by Anne Herries
‘Not of Sarah,’ John said. ‘But the agent has heard of a young woman who might be her. Apparently, she lives near the village of Stapleford Bridge. The cottage is not in the village itself, but just outside—which is why Daniel’s agents did not hear of her sooner. It seems that she never goes out alone and, when the report was sent, she had not been seen for a few weeks.’
‘Do you have the direction?’ Charles stared at him, hardly daring to hope. There had been other sightings of girls who might be Sarah these past months, all of them false trails, ending in disappointment. ‘I do not know the village—is it near Forsythe’s estate?’
‘No, more than thirty miles distant as the crow flies,’ John told him. ‘Possibly longer, if you follow the roads. It is merely a hamlet, I believe. I had only Daniel’s brief note before he and Elizabeth left for France. I was intending to write to you and that was why I was so pleased to see you.’ Recalling an odd, intent look on his friend’s face when he first saw him in the park, he raised his brows at Charles. ‘Have you known Lady Arabella long?’
‘No, not really. I attended her wedding to Ben Marshall, but I had not seen her since. We met by chance on the way here. I had had an accident and she found me lying on the road. She took me up in her carriage and she helped to care for me while I lay in a fever.’
‘An accident?’ John looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You are sure it was an accident? Forsythe and Lord Barton are dead and can no longer be a threat to you—but I dare say there may be others who fear exposure, or someone else who holds a grudge against you. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted you dead?’
‘I was knocked off my horse by a thief’s ruse,’ Charles said, dismissing his friend’s concern, though he frowned as he recalled a certain game of cards. There was one gentleman who might hate him enough to pay some rogue to murder him, though he still thought it a chance attack for the sake of gain. ‘I believe it was for money. I was robbed of my watch and gold, but I don’t know if I would have lived to tell the tale had Lady Arabella’s carriage not happened along at that moment.’
‘You must be careful,’ John warned, feeling anxious on his behalf. ‘This business with Forsythe has left a nasty taste and I fear it may not yet be ended, even though he is dead. He and Barton had other friends, who may have been involved. Palmer did not name them, but he may have had his reasons. I must tell you that I am at your service, Charles. You may call on me for help at any time until Sarah is found.’
‘Pray God that we shall find her safe,’ Charles said fervently. ‘Thank you, John. I am unable to leave town for a couple of days, because my mother has decided to come up and needs me here. Would it be too much to ask if you would go down to Stapleford Bridge, speak to Daniel’s agent and discover if there is any truth in this new rumour? You could make some inquiries of your own, perhaps.’
‘I have some business in the morning, but shall go down tomorrow afternoon,’ John promised. ‘You may rely on me to leave no stone unturned, Charles. If Sarah is found, I shall send word at once.’
‘If she is found, I shall come,’ Charles said. ‘However, I owe Mama a little of my time, John. In my search for Sarah I may have neglected her.’
‘I am sure you have not,’ John told him, smiling in his own gentle sweet way. ‘I know for a fact that you have been a great comfort to her. She told me so when we spoke last. You must stay with her for a day or so, Charles—but if Sarah is found, she will be only too glad to speed you on your way.’
‘Yes, though I should not tell her anything very much until I had seen Sarah for myself. Who knows what she may have endured all these months, John? How can we know what might have happened to her? It may have left her badly scarred—both mentally and physically.’
‘We must hope that time and the love of her family will cure any ill she has suffered,’ John said. ‘Tell me, Charles, is there another reason you wish to stay in town?’ There was a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Lady Arabella is beautiful and surely too young to remain a widow for ever.’
‘Yes, she is beautiful—and I like her very well,’ Charles said, ‘but how can I think of love when Sarah is still lost? And even when we have found her…I must devote myself to making her well again. It may be that I shall take her abroad where no one knows us. If she had been able, she would have come home, John. I can only think that she has been held against her will.’ A deep shudder ran through him. ‘God knows what she has suffered! I have vowed to care for her and make her safe. I cannot think of myself, John. My wife would have to take second place and that is not right.’ How could any woman accept such a situation? It was not to be thought of—even though Arabella had begun to creep too often into his thoughts.
Charles’s eyes were dark with grief as he met his friend’s gaze. It was true that he felt something more than friendship for the woman who had nursed him when he was ill. He had vowed to help her and he would do all he could to keep her safe—but marriage, children, a happy home were things he dared not hope for. Sarah’s abduction had almost destroyed his mother and it had left him bitter and angry, grieving for the sweet sister he had loved so well. He could not offer any woman happiness and it was madness to dwell on something that could never be.
Lady Tate insisted that Arabella and Tilda should go to the theatre that evening without her. Arabella was a little reluctant, but she believed that her cousin must still be in the country awaiting the summons home. The longer he stayed there the better, in her estimation! She was determined that her aunt would accompany her when she returned home at the end of her visit.
The following day, Lady Tate declared herself well enough to get up, though she cried off from their evening engagement once more. Arabella and Tilda attended Lady Hamilton’s card party and met up with Melinda, Harry and Captain Hernshaw. Charles Hunter came in just after they had arrived and joined their ranks. However, it was not until suppertime that Arabella had a chance to speak with him privately. It was a warm, still night and they went out into the gardens to take the air.
‘How is your aunt, Lady Arabella?’
‘Better, I think. She joined us downstairs this afternoon and tomorrow she is expecting a friend to tea.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Charles said and smiled. ‘I believe that may be Mrs Hunter. My mother arrived this afternoon and told me that she would be having tea with her special friend tomorrow—Lady Hester Tate.’
‘Oh…’ Arabella was surprised. ‘I did not realise that, sir. My aunt spoke only of an old friend who was coming up to town after being unwell for some months.’
‘Yes…’ The shadows were in his eyes. ‘My mother has been under a strain for a while.’
‘She is not with you this evening?’
‘She was a little tired after the journey.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Arabella nodded her understanding. ‘A long journey is often tiring.’ She was thoughtful for a moment, breathing in the perfume of a night-flowering shrub. ‘I wonder if you could give me the name of an investigative agent I might use, Mr Hunter? It is not for my aunt. She wishes to let the matter drop and I have every hope that a warning will be sufficient in my cousin’s case. There is another small matter I wish to have looked into.’
She shook her head as he raised his brows. She had confided in him over her cousin’s misbehaviour for she had not known which way to turn, but May’s case was different. May was safe enough with Nana for the time being and Mr Hunter could know nothing of her situation. Arabella believed that something bad had happened to her friend to make her lose her memory. She must discover what mystery lay in her past before she revealed her whereabouts to anyone, for she would not risk May being reclaimed by the people who had harmed her.
‘This gentleman might help you if it is a confidential matter. He has done good work for me in the past.’ Charles took out one of his cards and wrote something on the back of it with a little gold pencil he had in his coat pocket. ‘Though if I could be of service I should be only too pleased.’
�
�No, this is something for which I need an agent,’ Arabella said, smiling up at him. ‘It was a relief to me to unburden myself in the matter of my cousin, but this is something I can manage myself.’ The smile left her face. ‘For the moment my aunt is inclined to tell herself that she merely fell, but I do not think she truly believes it.’ She shook her head at the thought of her aunt’s state of denial.
‘You do not believe it?’
‘No, I do not, sir. Aunt Hester wants to exonerate her son. I cannot forget that he gave her those dates—and there was a look in his eyes when I told him that they had made two people sick that I found disturbing.’
‘You should continue to be careful.’ Charles reached out to take her hand in his. The touch of his cool fingers made Arabella tremble inwardly, her heart racing. For one breathtaking instant she thought he might take her in his arms. There was something between them in that moment, a mutual longing and need that made her draw in her breath. But then he gave a slight shake of his head. ‘If I were the man I once was…but my heart is dead, Arabella. I could not be the husband you ought to have. You need more than I could give. I am but half a man…’ The broken passion in his voice made something deep within her cry out and she wanted to hold him, to love him and take away the pain, but there was a barrier between them.
‘Can you tell me what has caused you such sorrow, Mr Hunter? I have sensed it from the first, but I was afraid to ask.’
Charles hesitated. He was on the verge of taking her into his confidence when Melinda came out onto the terrace and called to Arabella.
Arabella turned, sensing the urgency in Melinda’s voice. She glanced back, giving Charles an apologetic look and left him to join her friend.
‘Is something wrong, Mel? You are not ill?’
‘No, I am quite well. A message has come from Lady Tate. She asks that you return to the house immediately.’
‘My aunt sent for me?’ Arabella’s eyes flew to Charles in alarm as he joined her. ‘Is Aunt Hester in some trouble?’
‘Her note said only that she wished you to return at once.’
‘Then I must do so,’ Arabella said. ‘You will excuse me, Mr Hunter. Perhaps you would call on me soon?’ They had unfinished business, but it must wait for another time.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to escort you to Lady Tate’s house?’
‘Thank you, no,’ Arabella replied. ‘You have been kind, sir, but I shall do well enough with Tilda. Goodnight. I shall hope to see you soon.’
She left him to go inside where Tilda was waiting anxiously with her cloak. Glancing back, Arabella saw Charles enter the house a few seconds after her. What had he been about to tell her before they were interrupted? She felt a pang of regret for what might have been. Surely they had been closer than ever before in those few seconds.
Tilda handed Arabella her aunt’s note as they went out of the ballroom into the large entrance hall. She paused in the light of some candles to read the brief message. Nothing was said of her aunt being ill or in danger.
‘I wonder what can be wrong?’ Tilda said, looking at her anxiously. ‘Lady Tate seemed quite well when we left.’
‘Yes, I thought so,’ Arabella replied. ‘But we must go at once—she would not have sent for us if it were not urgent.’
‘No, indeed. It is very worrying.’
All kinds of thoughts raced through Arabella’s head as their carriage clattered over the cobbles. There were few lights in the deserted streets, for it had turned into a wet cool night that presaged the descent from high summer into autumn. She shivered, feeling apprehensive about what she would find when she returned home. Had her cousin returned unexpectedly and threatened his mother? Or was Aunt Hester ill?
As soon as they arrived and the carriage steps were let down, Arabella got out and hurried into the house. She was met by one of the footmen, who took her cloak.
‘Where is my aunt, Jenkins?’
‘In her rooms, Lady Arabella.’
She thanked him and flew up the stairs, her heart thumping. She knocked at Lady Tate’s door and went in hesitantly, but her aunt was sitting calmly reading a book of poetry. She put it aside as Arabella entered.
‘I am sorry to call you back, dearest, but a letter came for you from your home. It was marked urgent so I opened it. Someone called May says that Nana is worse and asking for you. She begs that you return at once—and she is worried about something else, which she will tell you when you get home.’
Arabella took the letter from her aunt, frowning over the beautifully formed script.
‘This means that I must cut my visit short, Aunt. I must go if Nana needs me.’ She looked at Lady Tate with an anxious frown. ‘I do not wish to leave you, but your friend visits tomorrow and you have a dinner arranged for the end of this week.’
‘Yes, of course you must go,’ her aunt said. ‘I shall be perfectly all right. I shall not leave my room at night and if anyone gives me sweetmeats I shall not eat them.’
‘Yes, I have to go, but you must come to me next week—and I shall leave Tilda here with you. I shall tell her a part of what we suspect.’
‘No, Arabella,’ her aunt begged. ‘Leave her with me by all means. I shall feel happier so—and I shall join you next week—but do not tell her what you suspect. Ralph may be innocent. Tilda would never be able to hide her disgust if she guessed that he—’ She broke off in distress.
‘No, you are right, she could not,’ Arabella agreed, knowing her companion’s lack of tact. ‘Very well, I shall simply tell her that I am anxious about your health. She may drive you mad with her fussing, Aunt, but she will take care of you. If we are fortunate, Ralph will not return until after you leave town.’
‘I am sure he will not. He probably means to go to a prize fight or something equally unpleasant, the way that gentlemen do. I dare say he will wait to hear from one of us before he returns.’
‘Then I shall go and tell my maid to pack. And I must write two letters. One to Melinda and one to Mr Hunter.’
‘Give them to me before you leave. I shall see they are delivered. One of the footmen can go in the morning.’
‘Thank you.’ Arabella bent to kiss her papery-soft cheek. ‘I hate to leave you, but you must keep your promise to come to me next week.’
‘I give you my word,’ Lady Tate said and looked at her oddly. ‘I have decided to sell my house. I shall give half the money to Ralph and half to you, Arabella.’ She held up her hand as Arabella protested. ‘My mind is made up. I shall have nothing of any real value left. Ralph cannot then see any need to—’ She broke off as if it was too difficult to think such a thing, let alone say it. ‘You are sure that I shall not be a trouble to you, my dear?’
‘Not in the least. My house is so big that we need not meet unless we choose, which we shall, Aunt Hester, every day. I am delighted that you have made your decision—and now I really must go. I shall leave as soon as I am ready.’
‘You will travel through the night?’
‘Yes, for delay might mean I arrived too late. May is very worried or she would not have sent for me.’
Arabella smiled at her and went out. There was a great deal to do before she could leave and she was anxious to be on her way. Nana had always been special to her. She would feel terrible if the dear old lady died before she could see her again, especially since Nana had asked for her. Besides, May was frightened about something. She had not written down what was troubling her, but Arabella had read between the lines. May would not mention her own distress unless she felt desperate.
Something must have occurred to make her anxious. What could it be? Arabella could only wonder and hope that nothing would happen before she returned home. Perhaps May had begun to recall her past; it would be a good thing and yet it might almost be frightening, for something bad had happened to the girl or she would not have arrived at Nana’s door in a state of exhaustion. If someone had discovered her whereabouts…But there was no point in speculating
about something she could not know until she had spoken to May.
Chapter Five
They stopped only to change horses at the various posting houses on their way. Arabella could not think of eating or resting for she was on thorns, anxious to be at home with her loved ones. She prayed that Nana would not die before she could see her again. The old lady had pressed her to keep her promise to her aunt and she could not regret that she had chosen to visit Lady Tate, for something terrible might have happened to her aunt had she not been there. However, Nana had been like a mother to her after Arabella’s own mother had died bearing a stillborn child. Arabella had been but five years of age, lonely and frightened until Nana took her to her heart—and it would break Arabella’s heart if Nana died feeling that she had been abandoned.
It was dark when they reached the little cottage the following night. Quite isolated, it was situated at the outskirts of Stapleford Bridge, a tiny hamlet that was really a part of Arabella’s estate. Some years previously Ben’s great-grandfather had built the cottages, which were good red brick and substantial, for house servants who wished to retire from service, and also some of the outside labourers from the estate. Nana had wished for her own home when she retired, though Arabella had wanted her to remain in the big house where she could be looked after. However, the old lady was fiercely proud and had hated the idea of becoming a burden to her young mistress. It had pleased Arabella when Nana had taken May into her home. At first Nana had cared for the girl, who had come to her in the night and collapsed from hunger and weakness, but then, when she was strong again, Arabella had agreed that May should stay to care for Nana as her strength began to fail.
‘I would love to have both of you at the house,’ she had told May once when they talked about the future. ‘But Nana is so independent and I cannot force her to come back to me.’