“Veronica Simpson, or Simpkins, something along those lines. She did not come from any means, as far as I know. Her father is a merchant in London.”
“Then we must go to London, immediately.”
James shook his head. “It will have to wait until morning. If we do not wish to arouse any suspicion from my mother, it must. She cannot know of this. It will hurt her far more than you realize.”
Adrian sighed. “Very well, but we must leave at dawn. Tell your mother that we have received a lead about Edward, and we are following it. She will worry, yes, but if we can get Edward back before he does anything foolish, she will thank us for it. I just hope that this Veronica’s brother has not done something foolish, too.”
“He is not dead. I would know. I would feel it.” James’ eyes turned sad.
“How can you be sure?”
He glanced at Adrian. “When Amy died, I felt it here, in my chest. The news had not yet reached us, but I already knew. I cannot explain it, but I felt her loss before I knew the facts. I am certain it would be the same if anything had happened to Edward.”
“Let us hope you are right, for all of our sakes.”
Adrian bundled the letters together and put them in his pocket, for safekeeping. He did not want one of the maids to accidentally find the love notes. And besides, he desired to read through them at greater leisure, to see if there was anything he might have missed.
Do not be dead, Edward. For the love of everything good in this world, do not be dead. For tomorrow, they ride to London.
Chapter 15
Lydia sat across from her mother and father at breakfast, watching them like a hawk. She was determined to discover any sign of their part in what had happened to Edward the previous night. As of yet, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.
“Did you hear about the new stable boy, darling?” the Duchess said, after scooping a forkful of fluffy eggs into her mouth. The question was not aimed at Lydia, but her father instead.
He looked up from his morning paper. “No, is something the matter? Has he regained his memories?”
“Not to my knowledge, dear. Mrs. Benton came to me this morning, quite distressed. She said the poor fellow had come to her in the middle of the night with his hand in tatters. He said it was an accident with a blade, but I am rather concerned.”
Lydia eyed her mother, but she seemed genuine. There was no hint of deviousness on her mother’s face. You have never been an actress, Mother. So, you must be telling the truth.
“My goodness, how awful,” the Duke replied. He, too, seemed genuinely concerned.
Do you play your role to fool me, Father? She noted that he would not meet her gaze as she continued to stare in his direction. Was that a sign that he was not innocent of this terrible attack? She was not sure.
“He claimed he had been having a night terror, and he reached for the blade in his sleep. Mrs. Benton was quite beside herself.” The Duchess plucked up another mouthful of eggs.
“Do you think we ought to find him employment in the town, instead of here? If he is having such night terrors, perhaps he is not safe to be around the rest of us.” The Duke still refused to look at her.
Ah, so there it is. It was all the conviction she needed, though she had vowed to bide her time and see if anything more befell Edward. Then, she would truly know who was responsible.
“We ought to watch him more closely, to begin with. If these issues continue, we may be forced to move him elsewhere. You have been generous enough, my dear. He will be grateful, I am sure.” Her mother smiled sweetly, but the expression riled Lydia.
How dare you pass him from pillar to post like an object.
The Duke sighed deeply. “The physician said it would not take this long for him to recover his memories, and I am beginning to wonder if he is not being somewhat deceitful to remain here.”
“He would not have sought Mrs. Benton’s help if that were so,” Lydia replied, startling her parents. It was as if they had quite forgotten she was there.
The Duke tapped the side of his newspaper in thought. “Yes, I suppose there is that. Nevertheless, if he has not regained his memories by the week’s end, I will be forced to send him elsewhere. A fortnight is much too long to go without one’s memories. And the wound on the back of his head has all but healed. It smarts of dishonesty.”
Lydia gripped her fork until her knuckles whitened. “He is an honest man, I am sure. You must allow him to remain, for he has nowhere else to go.”
“And how would you know that, darling?” The Duke narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.
“Danson has spoken well of him,” she replied.
Her father snorted. “Has he now? I have heard no such glowing reviews. From what I have heard, Danson claims the young man is prone to daydreaming and can often be found staring into the distance. Not exactly the work ethic we demand here at Greenwick Abbey.”
So, Danson has spoken with you, Father? That worried her, for she did not know what he might have disclosed. Was daydreaming some sort of code for something else? The sight of her and Edward beside the horse, and his lips upon her neck —she flushed at this memory.
“He has suffered a great injury, Father. That would surely be enough to lessen anyone’s work ethic, albeit temporarily.” She would not have her father denigrate Edward in so harsh a manner.
“My, you are full of interesting thoughts this morning.” The Duke chuckled. “As I have said, he may remain here until the week’s end. If his memories have not returned, we may have to rethink his position here. I cannot have members of staff disrupting the rest of the household.”
“Enough of this stable boy. I am tired of hearing of him. He seems to be all my lady’s maids can talk about,” her mother lamented. “I received word from Lord Chalmers yesterday evening, and he is most looking forward to his meeting with you, Lydia. I trust you will be on your best behavior?”
Lydia smiled. “Of course, Mother. I have promised to be, have I not?”
“Yes, but your promises are not always to be relied upon,” she retorted.
“I will behave, Mother. You may count upon it.”
The Duchess arched a refined eyebrow. “When you are finished with your breakfast, might you spend the morning with your sisters? Mary is poorly in bed with a malaise of the stomach, and Caroline has spent much of the night in some sort of vigil at her bedside. Do ask if they wish to have something sent up. It will not do to have two daughters wasting away.”
“I will, Mother.” Eager to be away from her mother and father, Lydia got up at that very moment and excused herself. She cast a curious look back at her father, meeting his gaze, before departing the dining room.
You will not outfox me, Father. He was a nervous creature, by nature, and likely feared a scandal would break apart his family. That was the only explanation she could muster for hiring a fellow to frighten poor Edward. It was discreet of him, Lydia had to give him that. But she would not allow it. Not by any means.
She arrived at the doorway of Mary’s bedchamber some minutes later and knocked lightly.
“Come in,” came the reply. The room beyond was scented with illness—that fusty, feverish aroma that lingered in the room of all those who had been confined to their chambers. Mary sat up against a pile of pillows, whilst Caroline sat at her bedside, a book of psalms open.
Oh, poor Mary. To be so poorly and have to endure psalms?
Their youngest sister cast her a desperate look that made Lydia chuckle. “Lydia, you have come to us at last! I thought I would quite go out of my mind if I did not have fresh company today.”
“You are in the Lord’s care, Mary. You must not be ungrateful,” Caroline grumbled.
“Mother would like to know if you would care to have some breakfast sent up?” Lydia smiled at Mary.
Mary shook her head. “I could not manage a morsel.”
“Caroline?” Lydia looked to her eldest sister.
“I suppose, now that y
ou are here, I may go downstairs to partake in the breaking of my fast,” she replied, evidently put out by Mary’s cutting remark.
“Very good, Caroline. Mother will be delighted, for she fears you are destined to waste away to nothing.” Lydia laughed heartily and perched on the edge of her youngest sister’s bed.
“As well she should. Malaises such as this are no trifling matter,” Caroline remarked. “I will see to it that her mind is put at rest, for I will request one of the maids to bring some toast to you, Mary. You may nibble at it and see if you feel invigorated.”
Mary nodded. “I will do what I can, Caroline.”
Their eldest sister stood and closed her book of psalms, setting it on the nightstand. With an awkward little curtsey, she turned around and headed out of the room, leaving Lydia and Mary alone.
“My goodness, I do love her so, but if I had to listen to another one of those psalms, I am certain I would have begged this malaise to end my life.” Mary grinned.
“How does she fare?”
“She is as she always is. I attempted to pry into news of Lord Sherringham’s ball, but she would not breathe a word. I confess, her cheeks did redden when I mentioned it, though.”
Lydia smiled. “She was so content upon her return. Perhaps, she is worried that he will not write?”
“I would imagine so. She has never taken rejection lightly, nor would she know what to do if he professed his undying love.”
“No, she would not.” Lydia paused. “Indeed, that is why I have come to speak with you, my dear sister, for I am in the midst of conjuring a plan. Mother wishes for one of us to marry soon, and I am adamant that it shall not be me.”
Mary’s eyes twinkled. “Go on…”
“Mother has arranged for a man named John Chalmers to come and visit with me on the morrow, and I am determined that he should fall in love with Caroline instead. She deserves happiness, and I would so love to see her enraptured with someone other than the Lord.”
“You are devious, Lydia, but I adore you for it.” Mary edged closer to her sister.
“I will require your assistance, in order to make it work. We must make her look fairer than she has ever looked before, and for that I will require the pearl-and-diamond necklace that Grandmother gifted you.”
Mary nodded effusively. “But of course! You may ransack my jewelry box if it shall see Caroline wed.”
Lydia chuckled. “That is excellent news, Sister. For my part, I shall dress her in my finest lavender muslin, for it does suit the green hue of her eyes. And you and I shall make her hair so pretty. I was thinking we might use those seed pearls that I wore some months ago?”
“Oh, delightful. She shall look divine.”
“I do hope so.”
A saddened look crossed Mary’s face. “But, Lydia, do you not wish to be wed? Surely, marriage must be the happiest of states? Why do you not desire it for yourself? Is there something the matter with this Chalmers fellow? Does he have a hideous scar?”
Lydia grinned. “Oh, nothing of the sort. By all accounts, he is rather pleasant, but I am determined that I should marry for love. Until such a day arrives, I will not settle for anything less.” She did not mention Edward, for though Mary was her sister, she feared the girl’s reaction to such a revelation.
“How romantic.” Mary sighed wistfully. “I shall do the same, Lydia. When I am old enough, I will not settle either.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mary.”
“If you could choose a gentleman to wed, what would he look like?”
Lydia smiled to herself. “He would stand tall with broad shoulders. His hair would be a dark blonde, with beautiful curls. And his eyes would be a dark blue, like a lake beneath a winter storm.”
“Oh, I should like such a gentleman, too!” Mary cried.
“Then, when you are of age, we shall find you one,” Lydia promised. But you cannot have mine.
“And you believe Mama and Papa will allow you to marry for love?”
Lydia shrugged. “That shall be the difficult part, though if they do not agree, I am certain I shall elope.”
Mary gasped. “You would not!”
“If it meant my happiness, I would.”
“You are so courageous, Lydia. I wish I had half your gumption. Although, you must not allow Caroline or Mama to hear you talking so, for they would undoubtedly match you with the next eligible bachelor and march you to the altar.”
Lydia nodded. “It shall be our secret.”
“Oh, I like that. Yes, it shall be our secret.”
Lydia looked towards the window and listened out for the sound of the horses, picturing Edward in his loose shirt, comforting them. She imagined his hand upon hers and his lips upon her skin and felt a warmth running throughout her body.
Yes, Edward, you shall be my secret until our fate is decided.
She would not give up his love, even if it meant she lost everything.
Chapter 16
James did not much care for London, nor did he care for the company of Adrian. His cousin had attempted friendliness, but James was in no mood for it. This fiasco with Edward was growing tiresome, and he was beginning to wish that his brother would simply return, so they did not have to continue on with such a rigmarole.
They rode along the Thames embankment, heading in the direction of Southwark. There was a certain house there, where he knew Veronica resided on occasion. It was not her family home, but the building that James had seen Edward walk into on numerous occasions. He also had the address of the merchant—Veronica’s father—but he hoped they would not have to go there.
A morning fog rolled across the murky water below, and the clang of narrowboats and ships passing could be heard in the dingy miasma. Ever since Amy’s death, he had loathed the water. It held nothing but danger and fear for him. Although, it was nothing compared to the grim, savage eyes and the envious stares of the common folk that watched them as they rode along
“Is this it?” Adrian pointed to a row of squat houses that veered off from the embankment. The sight churned James’ stomach. He loathed such places, though he knew they were necessary for gentleman such as himself. The underworld of London, where the upper echelons could enjoy themselves with the free, liberal commoners, who were only too willing to give up their bodies for coin.
James nodded. “This is it. Number twenty-one.”
Their horses clipped along the cobbles, before coming to a halt outside a particularly gloomy house. The top window had been boarded up, and the rest had seen better days. The paintwork peeled away from the door, and the bricks were covered in a layer of dark moss and streaked with dirt.
“One of us ought to stay with the horses,” James suggested. “As I am somewhat familiar with Veronica, perhaps you should remain.”
Adrian nodded. “If that is what you wish, Cousin.”
James hopped down from the saddle and strode up to the door. He did not bother to knock, for these doors were never locked. Inside, he was hit with a wave of nausea, coming from the stench of unseemly things. There was an undercurrent of mold, running below the foul aroma, and he knew it would be days before it would fade from his nostrils.
“Hello?” he called. He had visited this house on a handful of occasions, and the memory burned within him. The shame and humiliation, when he had been spurred on by his brother and peers. He was a God-fearing man, and such a house of mirth was not the sort of place for a gentleman like him.
The things you have caused me to do, Edward. It sickened him to think of it. And yet, he could not solely blame his brother. He blamed the profuse quantities of brandy, too.
A wizened old woman with a tangle of wiry gray hair appeared in the destitute hallway. She peered at him with her dark, bird-like eyes. “What sort of room you after?” she asked curtly. “Don’t expect to see your sort before sundown.”
“I am not here to purchase a room, Madam. I’m looking for a friend. Her name is Veronica, and I believe she used to frequent this
establishment a great deal.” He felt the creep of the damp and cold settling into his bones.
“Veronica, is it? She ain’t here. Hasn’t been for a fortnight. She in trouble?”
James shook his head. “I do not believe so, but I am eager to find her. Did she say when she might return?”
“Not a whisper. Folks have been worried, but they ain’t seen hide nor hair of her. If you see her, you tell her she owes me for the last night she spent here. I’d ask the gentleman who came with ‘er, but he were wearing a hood. Never got a good look at his face.”
James nodded. “I will do that, Madam. Can you recall which room she used?”
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