A bell over the door rattled as they entered. They stopped in the center of the shop and looked around. At a glance, it was easy to see why Delia had written to ask for more money. The whole place had a sad air. There were not many hats on display, although shelves behind the counter held spools of ribbons, feathers, and other materials. Perhaps Delia made her wares to request.
“Is anyone here?” Langham called.
A terrible, rasping cough came from the back room. “I’m coming.” The response sounded tired and annoyed.
After a moment, a woman came through the curtained doorway, coughing into a handkerchief. She must still have been in her twenties, but the world-weariness emanating from her face and posture made her seem much older. She stopped in her tracks, swaying a little, staring at Langham in disbelief. “Langham! What are you—?” Her gaze landed on the child. “Amelia?”
Cara felt Amelia’s hand tremble in hers. “No,” said Amelia flatly, tightening her grip on Cara and leaning into her side. “No.”
“So they figured it out,” Delia murmured, still looking at Amelia. She didn’t seem to notice the way the child clung to Cara. “I never thought they’d send you back, though. I thought you’d be safe and happy, living the good life, all fancy. It’s more than I ever had.”
There was a pause. Cara was stunned at the woman’s suggestion that Henry would simply return a child, like tossing a fish back into a pond. Langham looked equally taken aback.
“How pretty you are,” Delia said as she studied Amelia. “You was always a pretty little thing, right from the beginning. But your eyes! And those full brows. You take after your father now.”
Cara and Langham exchanged a confused look.
“What are you talking about?” Langham said.
Delia turned her bleary eyes to Langham. “Do you mean his lordship still doesn’t know?” She started to laugh, but this dissolved into a coughing spasm that shook her entire body. She doubled over and would have fallen, but Cara and Langham dashed forward and took her by the arms.
They half carried her back through the curtained doorway, behind which was a kitchen area with a small table, and set her on a chair. Moaning, Delia flopped over, landing facedown on crossed arms, and promptly passed out.
Langham picked up a small brown bottle next to the teapot and inspected it. “Laudanum. I think we need to find a doctor. Who knows how much she’s taken?”
Cara brushed the hair from Delia’s face. There was blood on her sleeve and around her mouth. Cara looked around for the handkerchief. Realizing Delia must have dropped it during her coughing spasm, Cara went back to the shop to retrieve it.
As she picked it up, she realized with a jolt of horror that the shop was empty. The door to the street was still open from when Amelia had run through it.
CHAPTER
35
THE RAILWAY STATION was located perhaps half a mile from the center of town. Henry decided to cover the distance on foot, despite signs of an approaching storm. He was filled with pent-up energy after sitting on the train, worrying over what could be happening here.
He’d never been to this little village before. Everything had been done through correspondence. On the day Delia had delivered up Amelia, they’d met in his solicitor’s office in Chelmsford. Even though her address was burned into his memory, Henry had no idea how to find it. After asking directions from several people, he finally found the place tucked away on a narrow side street.
Dusk was falling. In the gathering gloom, a faint light coming from the back of the shop was clearly visible. Henry walked back there and found Langham sitting by himself at a small table. He was slumped in a chair with a wet towel folded over his eyes. Henry was alarmed to see no sign of the others.
“Langham, it’s Henry.”
Wincing as though the mere sound of Henry’s voice caused him pain, Langham removed the cloth from his eyes. “Well, if it isn’t the good brother.”
Henry took a seat opposite him at the narrow table. “Where are Cara and Amelia? Are they with Delia?”
“Delia is upstairs, sleeping off the effects of too much laudanum. The doctor says she’ll recover from that, although she’s not likely to survive the other things wrong with her.” Langham spoke matter-of-factly, but the pain in his eyes was evident. “Fortunately, there was some left in the bottle, although not nearly enough. My head is splitting in two.”
“Where are Cara and Amelia?”
“Amelia ran off. Cara went to find her while I went for a doctor for Delia. I haven’t seen them since. I wanted to search for them, but I didn’t want to leave Delia. And in any case, my head—” He scrubbed his hands over his face as though trying to push out the pain.
“Why did Amelia run off? What’s happened?”
Langham met Henry’s gaze. “I shouldn’t bother explaining anything to you, seeing as how you never felt it important to tell me you’ve thought for years that Amelia was my daughter.”
“Well, now you know.” Henry paused as what Langham had said registered. “What do you mean, I thought she was your daughter?”
“The doctor and I roused Delia enough to get her to her bed. She told me a few things before she passed out completely. As she is probably dying, she thought she might as well confess. Or maybe her tongue was simply loosened by the effects of the laudanum.” He attempted a smirk, even as he pressed his hands to his temples. “In laudanum veritas.”
“What did she tell you?” Henry pressed.
“I am not Amelia’s father, although you and our parents found it too easy to think so.”
“What? How can that be?”
“She was seduced by a man who was a guest at the inn. He was an estate agent researching a nearby property for a wealthy client. He promised Delia many things, but then he left when his client decided not to buy the land. When Delia discovered she was with child, she used that incident when Father found us together as an excuse to pass off the child as mine. Lucky for her, Father believed her and immediately set about keeping things quiet. So quiet, in fact, that no one even informed me.”
He straightened enough to send Henry a malevolent glare. “Little did I know that I spent the past eight years working diligently to live down to your low opinion of me.”
Henry slammed a fist on the table, filled with rage at his father for making the decisions that had placed them in this situation.
The sound caused Langham to moan. He placed the cloth back over his eyes. “Go ahead and be angry, but for pity’s sake, do it elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry, Langham.” Those words were far from adequate. Henry’s disgust was aimed not only at his parents, but at himself. He had helped to perpetuate the lie when he might have acted differently. They might have cleared things up and saved years of trouble and heartache. They had suffered precisely because those who could have spoken up did not.
And yet, what would have happened to Amelia if they hadn’t taken her in? The thought pained him as he looked around at these miserable surroundings. He loved her. He wasn’t going to abandon her.
The important thing now was to find Cara and Amelia. He’d seen and felt the gathering storm as he’d walked here from the station. What if Amelia had gotten lost in the outdoors, and Cara was searching the countryside for her? To be in a strange place at night, with weather like this, could not be safe.
He rose from his chair, wanting only to get out the door. To find the two people who had come to mean so much to him. To ensure they came to no harm.
Henry laid a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it right.”
A muscle twitched, but otherwise Langham didn’t move.
Henry turned and bolted from the shop.
Cara had searched through the town, down the alleyways, and even along the hedgerows on the roads skirting the town. Amelia was nowhere to be found. It was only as the moon began to rise and cast pale light on the countryside that Cara noticed a lake, edged by boats, on the far side o
f a field. She took off across the field, drawn toward the water as surely as Amelia would have been. The short masts rising from the sailboats would have been a magnet for the child.
Once at the lake, Cara walked out onto the dock. She carefully looked in every boat, in case Amelia was huddled inside one of them. But there were no signs of life, only a variety of supplies, from boat oars to oilcloth bags for rain gear and other essentials.
When Cara reached the end of the dock, she looked out over the broad lake. Heavy cloud cover blocked out most of the moonlight, but Cara’s eyes slowly acclimatized to the night landscape. On the far side of the lake, trees lined the shore. In between, there was only the vast expanse of water.
Or was there something else? Cara strained, willing her eyes to see better. After a few moments, she was sure. There was a darker spot on the lake, a small rowboat. It was drifting, carried along by the strengthening breeze. Cara thought she could make out a child’s head rising barely above the rim of the boat.
“Amelia!” she called out, her voice echoing across the water.
The head rose a little, but then sank lower. Cara called several more times, but the girl refused to answer.
It would be just like Amelia to find a boat and push out onto the lake. She’d always associated boats with freedom and escape. But as thunder rumbled in the distance, the situation was precarious, if not deadly dangerous.
“Amelia! I’m coming for you!” Cara yelled, certain the child could hear, even if she didn’t respond.
Cara retraced her steps up the dock, intending to run back to town and summon help. She was sure to find men at the pub who knew the owners of these boats.
A flash of lightning stopped her in her tracks. Even if she ran as fast as she could and then found people willing to rush back here with her, she would still be gone for half an hour. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to leave the child alone that long. Not with the storm looming.
To her left, tied behind one of the sailboats, was a small rowboat similar to the one on the lake. Lifting her skirts, Cara clambered into the boat. Once she was firmly balanced inside, she fumbled with the ropes to free the rowboat from its moorings. The wind was stronger now, bringing occasional splatters of rain.
When the rope finally fell away, Cara pushed hard against the sailboat, thrusting her rowboat out into the deeper water. With shaky hands, she set the oars into position. She had never rowed a boat before, but she’d seen others rowing along the streams that skirted the Needenhams’ property.
She was clumsy at first, but it didn’t take long to catch on. With each stroke, she gained a better feel for how to move the boat in the direction she wanted to go. There was another streak of lightning, illuminating droplets of light rain falling on the lake. Cara kept rowing, gathering speed as she became accustomed to the oars.
Amelia stood up, waving her arms. “Go away! I don’t want you here! I want to be left alone.”
Cara’s heart jumped as Amelia’s boat wobbled. “Please sit down!” she cried, pushing the oars harder to close the gap. “I know you’re upset. Let’s get you to safety, where we can talk.”
“All grown-ups ever do is talk. Go away!”
But even as she spoke, she sat down in the boat. Cara was about to take this for a good sign until she saw what the girl was doing. Amelia lifted an oar, but it slipped from her grasp and fell out of the boat. She lunged for it, trying to grab it before it hit the water. Her sudden movement caused the rowboat to pitch, flinging her overboard.
Cara shouted with terror as the child disappeared under the water.
Amelia’s head popped up to the surface and she coughed, flailing her arms and gasping for air. Her boat had been pushed away by the force of her fall and was out of reach.
Cara rowed harder, desperate to reach the child. She couldn’t swim, but she thought that if she got close enough, Amelia could grab onto the side of her boat.
To Cara’s horror, the child began to swim away from her. Amelia wasn’t even trying to reach her own boat. She was swimming toward the center of the lake. What she thought she might gain by this, Cara had no idea. Amelia probably didn’t know, either. She was simply desperate to get away.
She couldn’t outpace Cara, though. How she even stayed afloat was a mystery; it was evident that the weight of her dress hampered her. Surely it wouldn’t be long before the layers of wet cotton acted as a lead weight to sink her.
Cara caught up to her, slipping alongside. She lifted one oar out of its socket and extended it toward the child. “Amelia! Grab onto this! Now!”
Amelia stopped and turned to face the proffered oar. She reached up and grabbed it, taking hold and yanking hard. Cara was leaning over the side of the boat, and the surprise force of the child’s tug pulled her far enough that the boat tipped. Her balance shifted, and Cara fell into the lake.
She gasped as cold water encircled her. Her mouth filled with the taste of brine and fish. She tried to spit it out, but there was only water everywhere, pressing in on her. She reached upward, as though if she could find the water’s edge she could somehow pull herself up. But her heavy clothes fought against her. She heard Amelia’s muffled voice calling her name. She thought she saw the child’s legs, still in stockings and boots, kicking at the water above her. She even had a sensation as though the child had grabbed her sleeve and was tugging at her. It was to no avail. Guilt was dragging her down. Her own wrongdoing had brought this. Another child was in danger and would probably die because of her.
No! She struggled, fighting the water, desperate to find the top. Lack of air was making her faint. Dizzy. The water was growing darker. The small hand she’d imagined holding on to her had let go. Cara was glad for this. She would not take the child down with her. Perhaps Amelia might survive.
Perhaps . . .
Cara’s last conscious thought was a prayer: Please, God, save her.
CHAPTER
36
HENRY SCOURED THE VILLAGE, looking for Cara and Amelia. He looked into shops and taverns, and asked everyone he saw if they had noticed a young blond woman and a little girl, or perhaps either of them alone. The closest he got was one man who remembered Cara searching for a little girl, but he did not remember which direction she’d gone.
Finally, having no idea what to do next, Henry stood at the edge of the village. From here, there were only open fields and a road leading out into the country. A signpost noted the next town was three miles off.
There was no one about. Everyone had hurried home to avoid being caught in the rain. Henry sat on a low fence, trying to devise a plan. Where could he possibly look next? How could they have simply disappeared? The wind was picking up, and he could feel occasional drops of rain on his face.
The wind carried something else, too. A woman’s voice, crying out Amelia’s name.
The sound had come from behind him, distant but clear. Henry jumped to his feet and turned around. He scanned the fields, which gently crested before turning downhill again. And on the far side was a lake. Cara called out louder this time, the fear and urgency in her voice prickling down Henry’s spine. He climbed over the fence and broke into a run.
The stiff wind chased the clouds, allowing intermittent light from a crescent moon. As he reached the water’s edge, Henry could make out two rowboats in the distance. Cara stood in one of them. She called out Amelia’s name, extending an oar toward the water. Henry was barely aware of his feet pounding on the boards of the dock as he ran toward the sound. He had just reached the edge of the dock when he saw Cara topple from the boat into the lake.
Henry stripped off his coat and yanked off his boots. There was no time to come up with another plan. He took a shallow dive off the end of the dock and began swimming furiously the moment he hit the water. It was cold enough to render him breathless at first, but before long, the physical exertion of pushing through the water began to warm him.
He hadn’t seen Amelia. He prayed she was in the second boat as he pumped his
arms and legs as fast as he could. He had to reach Cara before she sank too far, while he could still find her and pull her to safety.
As he got closer, he saw Amelia’s head pop out of the water. He cried her name. She was a reasonably good swimmer for her age, but the water was far too deep here. Add to that the weight of her clothes and shoes, and she could easily drown. She didn’t seem to hear him. She didn’t even look in his direction, but instead disappeared beneath the water again. Her backside and feet rose up in the air before they too submerged, and Henry realized she was not sinking but rather diving. She was probably looking for Cara. He couldn’t help but admire the girl for that, and yet a child and a drowning woman were a recipe for disaster.
Keeping his eyes pinned to the spot where Amelia had disappeared, Henry redoubled his efforts. It made for awkward swimming, but he couldn’t risk losing their position. As it happened, he knew immediately when he was in the right spot. The water churned, evidence of a struggle beneath the surface. He took a few precious seconds to catch his breath and then to inhale deeply, knowing he would need plenty of air. Then he dove.
The water was far from clear, yet he saw Amelia instantly. Her white petticoats stood out in the gloomy depths. She was struggling, one arm flailing and her two feet kicking. Her other hand grasped Cara’s wrist. She was trying to pull her toward the surface. It was futile for the child to even attempt this, and Cara wasn’t making it any easier. She thrashed, frenzied from fear.
Henry swam to Amelia and took her arm to get her attention. She pulled back in fright until she recognized him. He pointed toward himself and then to Cara, and then took hold of Amelia’s waist and pushed her upward. He was trying to communicate for her to rise to the surface, that he would go after Cara, and she understood. She was also likely out of air, for she willingly swam upward. Henry, too, already felt the strain of holding his breath.
He turned back to Cara. She no longer struggled. She was sinking, arms floating. She was unconscious. That would make the rescue easier—provided she wasn’t dead. He shoved that fear aside, lest panic overtake him. He swam to her, turning her floating form so that her back was to him. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he began to fight his way back to the surface.
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