The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  I shook my head as the last of my trickling doubts disappeared into a pool of certainty. I’d come to Seline’s bedchamber to find something missing, something to prove she had returned to the house and left on an adventure. But it wasn’t what Seline had taken with her that provided the frightful truth looming ever-present in my mind; it was what she had not.

  I set the tooth powder on my dear friend’s dresser, my fingers quivering as I drew them to my side. There was no doubt in my mind; Seline had not returned to the house. The letter we’d found the night she disappeared had to be a forgery, which could only mean one thing. Seline could be in terrible danger.

  * * *

  I’d no intention of sharing my newfound assumptions with Mrs. Cavanagh, but when I arrived in the drawing room later that day, I found her standing at the bow window, her hand perched on her hip, a look of contemplation on her face.

  Though I knew Piers and Avery hoped to spare their mother any undue anxiety, I began to wonder if such a tactic was indeed the best course, particularly when urgency was most definitely upon us.

  Mrs. Cavanagh knew her daughter better than anyone. She might prove useful in our investigation. I stared down at the red-and-yellow Aubusson rug and clasped my hands at my waist. It wasn’t my position to disclose the whole of what Piers and I had learned, not when he’d specifically asked me not to, but perhaps I could pose something of a question for Mrs. Cavanagh to ponder, something that might help me understand what happened the night Seline never came home.

  I cleared my throat, gaining Mrs. Cavanagh’s attention. “Ah, Miss Halliwell, you startled me.” She motioned for me to join her on the sofa. “I was lost in thought.”

  “It must be difficult . . . as you are forced to wait for news.”

  She seemed to move as if in slow motion, every inch of her body exhausted from worry. “Sometimes I believe I might never recover from Seline’s departure, and then other times I imagine her waltzing right through the front door and declaring she never left. My dear Miss Halliwell, it is a strange world that I am forced to live in now—a terrible dreamland I fear I may never awaken from.”

  There was a moment of silence as she arranged the folds of her skirt. “Seline was always a headstrong child, and some people you simply cannot save. I suppose she has no one to blame but herself. Yet at the strangest times of the day, I feel”—she shrugged—“I guess you could call it an inkling of remorse for my part in failing her as a mother.”

  I cannot say what came over me in that instant. I’d not felt a connection with Mrs. Cavanagh since I’d arrived, but somewhere within the creases of her rambling hid an intimation of emotional truth, which Mrs. Cavanagh rarely exposed. Though she had been hurt by Piers and pushed him away and now by Seline, I knew that deep down she loved all of her children. What mother wouldn’t?

  I took a seat on the sofa. “I just came from Seline’s room.”

  Her eyes widened, and then the muscles in her arms stiffened. “Her bedchamber?”

  “Yes. I went there hoping I might make some sense of why she left that day.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh cocked an eyebrow as she sucked in a deep breath, but her voice came out steady. “And what did you find, my dear?”

  “Nothing of any consequence—not exactly, that is.”

  She regarded me as if I were one of her embroidery palettes and she was determining where to place the next stitch. “I’ve been over that room more than once. If Seline had left anything that might help us locate her, I certainly would have found it.”

  “But you see, she did leave something.”

  Her eyes widened further. “What do you mean? Tell me at once.”

  The palpable strain in her voice caused me to pause, yet I couldn’t help but continue down the path I had already begun. “Her tooth powder and lotion, actually.”

  Confusion swept across Mrs. Cavanagh’s face.

  “The items may mean nothing, but don’t you think Seline would have taken them with her?”

  Mrs. Cavanagh’s pinched eyes flitted back and forth before fixing on a spot on the rug. She let out a tight sigh. “I daresay she simply planned to buy all she needed for her journey once they left. I shall be sure to send Avery into town as soon as he is back to inquire after such a purchase.” Then a smile emerged. “Yes, this might just give us a direction of travel.”

  She took my hands into her claw-like grasp—a mix of desperation and demand—and I was shocked by how cold her fingers were. I nodded readily enough and produced a faint smile. Of course her conclusion did make some sense. Miles had funds to support their flight. His uncle had said as much earlier in the day. But Mrs. Cavanagh was not quite ready to explore the darker thoughts that plagued my mind, that took me to a place far different from what she imagined.

  I pressed my lips together. Perhaps Piers was right and I should handle her with a bit more caution. After all, her emotions were so very thin and, in many ways, bound up tighter than a spring.

  I rose to take my leave, feigning interest in an afternoon stroll, but she stopped me at the door, a curious bend to her pale brow. “If you find out anything further regarding Seline’s flight from the house, you will share it with me, won’t you?”

  Had she read my thoughts?

  A slight hesitation and she regulated her voice to mimic the way a mother would speak to a small child. “I know I can trust you to keep me informed.”

  I leaned against the doorframe. “I only want to be a help to you in this house. I feel so out of place at such a time yet equally glad I can be of service to you and your family.”

  She lifted her chin, a smile spreading. “I did have my qualms about you coming here at first, but I am so glad now that you did.”

  * * *

  Later that same day as I was crossing the landing, intent on the hall to my room, I happened to catch sigh of Snowdrop’s willowy white form disappearing into a room down the family wing. I was convinced it was Mrs. Cavanagh’s room, and I rushed to intercept. A few paces forward and I realized it was actually Mr. Cavanagh’s bedchamber she had taken a fancy to.

  I paused a moment, certain I should leave Snowdrop to whatever fate befell her. After all, I’d promised to avoid Mr. Cavanagh whenever possible, but Mrs. Cavanagh’s swift justice came to mind. On second look, the poor dear was but a few steps inside the dark room, cleaning her paws on the rug as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She gave me an innocent look, her eyes flashing in the light from the hall.

  Goodness, how could I possibly abandon my friend?

  The nurse’s chair was empty and Mr. Cavanagh lay stone-still within his canopy bed. In all likelihood he was asleep. No one would even know I had been inside. I tiptoed through the door in a crouch, reaching silently for the fluffy ball of fur—

  “Who’s there?”

  My arm froze in midair. Dread trickled through my chest as I inched my focus to the rustling sound emanating from Mr. Cavanagh’s bed. Apparently he hadn’t been asleep at all.

  His face lay in shadows, but I could tell he’d been freshly shaved. It made him appear somewhat younger, more approachable. I knew I could have snatched up Snowdrop and tiptoed from the room without a word, but one glance at his muddled face and my heart wouldn’t let me. Here lay the head of the Cavanagh family, packed away in this terrible room and forgotten day after day. I could no more leave Mr. Cavanagh to his fate than I could Snowdrop.

  I stood. “Good afternoon, Mr. Cavanagh. It’s Miss Halliwell.” I thought it best not to mention Snowdrop, who darted into the shadows the instant I set her on the ground. I squinted in the dim light, trying in vain to keep track of her. But it was no use. “Do you mind if I open the drapes? It’s so very dark in here.”

  He chuckled. “Is it? I wouldn’t know.” He motioned into the air. “Do as you please. It makes no difference to me.”

  As I moved to the window and thrust open the velvet curtains, my gaze fell to the wilting flowers on the dresser. Forgotten indeed. “Please excuse me, I shall
be right back.”

  I hurried into the corridor outside his room and gathered Hugh’s bouquet of flowers from the table at the landing.

  Upon returning I moved the Sevres vase to Mr. Cavanagh’s bedside and took a seat. “There. Can you smell them?”

  His lips scrunched up. “Smell what? Please don’t tell me you’ve brought supper.”

  I wafted the flowers beneath his nose. “Not food. Take a deep breath.”

  “Ah.” His face relaxed. “You brought me daffodils. They’re my favorite.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Like father, like daughter I supposed. “Well, your bedchamber looks a bit more cheery at any rate. And now that I have some light, I can see plain as day that I need to speak with the maid who is supposed to be tending your room. There is a great bit of dust in here.”

  A wrinkle crossed his brow. “Is there? I just assumed Mrs. Cavanagh was seeing to all that.”

  I considered his words. “Well, she does have her hands full at present. Seline’s disappearance has turned the entire household upside down.”

  “And Piers has returned. I’m afraid his sudden arrival has only reminded her of what happened five years ago. You see, my accident in the stables occurred shortly after Piers’s disgrace. Of course that blasted horse had nothing to do with his forced retreat from society, yet sometimes I wonder if she believes the incidents were somehow related. One scandal, then another.”

  Here it was, the chance I’d been waiting for. If anyone knew why Piers had permitted the world to think him a coward, his father might. I was glad Mr. Cavanagh couldn’t see me biting my fingernails as I formulated the order of my words. I had to be careful if I meant to learn the truth.

  I ran my fingers along the coverlet. “Perhaps Mrs. Cavanagh’s emotions have become confused in her head. It was quite gallant of Piers to arrange the duel to avenge Seline’s honor, but then to disappear . . . I wonder why he’s never said what happened that day.”

  A long sigh. “Sometimes you must allow a man a secret. Trust me, the entire ordeal was quite trying for Piers, particularly because”—his arm twitched—“his heart was involved.”

  I sat up straight. “His heart?”

  “Piers was caught in a bad way. And though he’s never told me the whole, I know my son.”

  My eyes went wild about the room. “Had it something to do with Miss Gervey?”

  “No, it . . .” Mr. Cavanagh remained quiet for a moment, then licked his lips. “Speaking of Miss Gervey, have you heard the news?”

  “Of Lord Kendal’s pending marriage? Certainly.”

  He searched blindly for my hand on the bed. “Poor Piers. Mrs. Cavanagh held out hope for him and Miss Gervey till the bitter end, but he’d best forget her now.”

  Mr. Cavanagh’s fingers were soft and warm, and I allowed him to hold mine as Piers’s clear blue eyes came to mind, his darling smile. “I don’t know how one can do that—forget someone, I mean.”

  “It is not an easy process, but when the lady has made promises to another gentleman, he must do so and straightaway.”

  Thankfully Piers had made promises to no one, only himself. I’d been spared that at least. I leaned forward, emboldened by Mr. Cavanagh’s openness. “I do think Piers has a handle on things. He told me he never means to marry.”

  “True. He’s spoken of remaining a bachelor to me quite frequently as well. He has no intention of sharing his disgrace with anyone, but love can be a tricky thing, my dear. Sometimes it clouds our vision, when other times it allows us to see.”

  He rubbed his face, a companionable silence filling the room. Though I urged my mind away from Piers, I found my thoughts narrowing in nonetheless on Mr. Cavanagh’s surprising words about the duel. “His heart was involved.” A sinking feeling filled my chest. If it wasn’t Honora Gervey to whom Mr. Cavanagh had been referring, whom exactly did he mean?

  My eyes widened, and I drew my shoulders back. Wait.

  If I understood correctly, the incident occurred around the same time I left for Ceylon . . . The same time. Every muscle in my chest tightened and twisted as the sharp pieces of our past clicked together. It had been staring me in the face since I’d arrived.

  My accident on the road!

  If Piers had planned the duel with Lord Kendal for the morning I unexpectedly arrived home, he would have had to miss it because he was helping me. Oh dear. I nearly stood before thinking better of such a hasty move, pressing my free hand to my head instead.

  I was right. I had to be. Piers never would have left me on the side of the road that day, and he would have been forced to keep quiet about his whereabouts to protect my reputation. I had been out all night, after all. What a fool I had been. Everyone would have thought . . . My stomach turned as I remembered the look on his face. I’d known something was wrong.

  Mr. Cavanagh adjusted his position on the bed, startling me back to the present, a smile taking over his pensive face. He could have no idea of the emotions churning within me.

  “You know, after you left the other day, I spent a great deal of time thinking about your brother. He was a good friend to me before your family departed so suddenly for Ceylon.”

  My voice felt a bit shaky in my throat, but I pushed through. “Arthur would have liked to have seen you again, but I don’t know that he ever means to leave America. He loves it there.”

  “I was thinking I might dictate a letter to him. Baker handles all those sorts of things for me now. If I did so, would you be willing to enclose it within one of your own?”

  “Certainly. I would be happy to.”

  “Good. Then I shall summon Baker at once.”

  He reached for the bell rope, and I took the opportunity to retreat. “I will leave you to it. Good day, Mr. Cavanagh.”

  He raised his chin. “You will come again another time? Perhaps bring a book to read?”

  I was glad he couldn’t see the flush on my warm cheeks. “I would be honored to.”

  I made my way to the door before taking a long glance back into the room. With everything so unsettled in the house, in a way I was glad Mr. Cavanagh had asked me to return. Of course Mrs. Cavanagh would not be pleased. I suppose she only wanted to protect her husband, and I did understand caution to a point. He was pale and feeble. But at the same time, if the appearance of his room was any indication of his neglect, it was high time someone took an interest in him.

  I sealed the door shut with care, pausing in the hall. It felt good to have a father figure in my life once again, and Mr. Cavanagh had given me much to ponder about Piers.

  Piers. My heart contracted.

  Mr. Cavanagh was right. Love was tricky and confusing and complicated. Piers Cavanagh was not the man I’d thought him to be for five long years. So what was I to do now?

  Chapter 14

  It was a full week before Avery returned home. I saw little of Piers during that time and never unaccompanied as he was caught up in estate business with his father. Thus I was forced to contemplate alone my role in Piers’s scandal, the presence of Seline’s tooth powder, and the continued lack of communication from her uncle.

  Well, not alone exactly. After I disclosed my thoughts about Seline’s tooth powder to Mrs. Cavanagh, I saw more and more of her about the house. Perhaps I’d caused her more worry than I originally thought. Every afternoon, like clockwork, she’d slink into the drawing room as if it took great effort for her even to consider company, and then she’d happily proceed to instruct me on the finer intricacies of my needlepoint.

  I suppose with Piers busy and Avery away, I was the only person in the house she could turn to for comfort, and comfort she needed. Her behavior remained odd at best. Some days she would sit and stare out the window for hours, jumping at the littlest sound. Other days she would speak constantly, as if conversation was the only balm to a wounded spirit.

  Though our exchanges were tentative at first, within a few days something changed between us. She had just finished praising the initials I’d embroid
ered on the corner of a handkerchief when she stopped midsentence and her eyes clouded over.

  “Oh, my dearest girl.” Her face was white and her hand shook as she covered her mouth.

  I hesitated a moment before touching her chilled fingers. “Are you well, Mrs. Cavanagh?”

  It took her a great deal of effort to respond, but at length she began in a whisper. “That handkerchief you are working on for your father. Well, it brought back a rather difficult memory of my own. I-I had one like it at one time. It was ruined the day Mr. Cavanagh was injured.”

  I looked down at the curly H I’d just completed. “Oh?”

  I hadn’t the least idea what to say to such a declaration. Mrs. Cavanagh had been terribly tight-lipped up until that point, and I didn’t want to pry, not about something so personal.

  But she was eager to talk. I could feel it charging the air between us as she laid down her needle.

  I knew it was prudent to embark on such a conversation with caution, yet Mrs. Cavanagh had swung open the door and clearly left it gaping for me to step through. I took refuge in a sip of tea, asking almost as an afterthought, “Is it difficult to think about?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she shifted her weight on the sofa. “In most ways, yes. In others . . . no.”

  My eyes widened. “I—”

  “It was the day I finally knew myself.” She motioned into the air. “What I was able to overcome.”

  “Was Avery home at the time?”

  “Yes . . . he was.” Her face fell strangely stationary. “It took us years to find our footing with Piers gone, and now . . . I fear all my efforts have been wiped away by Seline’s thoughtless decision. I did everything for my children’s futures. Everything.”

  Slowly I turned to my needlepoint, my hands a little less steady than they had been before. Mrs. Cavanagh had been dealt one difficult card after the other.

  A shuffle sounded at the door, and Avery waltzed into the drawing room.

  Mrs. Cavanagh flew to her feet. “What news have you brought us?”