Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Melody sat by the window, her heart heavy with guilt. She couldn’t shake the thought that she had failed her sister. Elodie had no part in the dangerous life Melody led as a spy, yet she was suffering because of it. It wasn’t fair, and that realization gnawed at her. Somewhere out there, her sister was alone and in danger, and all Melody wanted was to find her and bring her home.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. It creaked open to reveal her lady’s maid, Lydia, holding a candle. “Are you ready to dress for bed, my lady?” she asked gently.
“Not yet.”
Lydia’s face softened, her eyes full of pity. “Worrying yourself sick about Elodie won’t help. You need rest.”
Melody turned from the window, a frown pulling at her lips. “This is all my fault.”
Lydia furrowed her brow. “How could it be your fault? Did you abduct her?”
“No, but?—”
Before Melody could finish, Lydia cut her off, her tone kind but firm. “It is natural to blame yourself when something bad happens, but that doesn’t make it true. This isn’t your fault, my lady.”
Melody fell silent. Lydia didn’t understand. No one did. She couldn’t reveal the truth—that Elodie was caught in the crossfire of her life as a spy. It was a secret she had to bear alone.
Suddenly, a faint sound came from beneath the door. Lydia noticed it first, bending down to retrieve the paper that had been slipped inside. She examined it for a moment before handing it to Melody. “It is addressed to you.”
A sense of dread filled Melody as she took the letter. Slowly, she unfolded the paper and read the ominous words:
Meet in the gardens. Come alone. Tell anyone and your sister dies.
Melody crumpled the note in her hand. She had no choice in the matter. She had to go down and meet with whoever sent this letter.
Lydia gave her a curious look. “Who is that letter from?”
“No one of importance.”
“Is it from Lord Emberly?” Lydia pressed.
Melody shook her head. “No. It is not from him.”
Lydia eyed her, unconvinced. “The servants say he is smitten with you.”
Reaching into the folds of her gown, Melody’s fingers brushed the hidden pistol. “He is not smitten. Now, I need to handle something before bed.”
Moving towards the door, Lydia remarked, “I don’t think you should meet with Lord Emberly at this hour. It is not proper.”
“As I have told you, I am not meeting with Lord Emberly,” Melody repeated, growing impatient.
“Then what is so important that it can’t wait until morning?”
Melody gave Lydia a tight smile, knowing she was only trying to help. But this was something that she had to do on her own. It was her fight, no one else’s. “I will only be a moment. Do not wait up for me.”
Lydia hesitated, her concern evident. “Please don’t go. Stay here, where it is safe.”
“I am just going to the gardens for a breath of air. I shall return shortly,” Melody insisted. “I know what I am doing.”
Reluctantly, Lydia stepped aside. “Very well, my lady.”
Melody made her way towards the back of the manor, slipping through the corridors. If Lydia had known why she was truly going into the gardens, she would have tried to stop her. And she couldn’t let that happen. Melody had to face whoever was behind this, knowing she could handle it herself.
As she passed by the study, she saw Wesley embracing his sister. A part of her wanted to greet them, but she couldn’t afford to waste time explaining her actions. Wesley would never allow her to go through with her plan. Right now, she needed to do just that.
She exited the manor and didn’t stop until she reached the bench Matilda so often occupied. Melody’s eyes scanned the darkened area, knowing she wasn’t alone. A tall, blond man emerged from the cover of the trees, his face shadowed but his demeanor smug. He gave her a mocking bow. “My lady.”
Melody didn’t have time for pleasantries. Her hand tightened around the pistol hidden in her gown. “Where is my sister?”
The man smiled, clearly amused by her demand. “Patience, Lady Melody,” he said, his words thick with a French accent.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any,” Melody snapped, pulling out her pistol and aiming it at him. “You have taken someone important to me. I won’t ask again—where is she?”
“You won’t shoot me,” he said.
“Yes, I will,” Melody replied. “For Elodie’s sake, I will.”
The man’s smirk didn’t falter. “If you kill me, you will never know where she is. And that would be a shame, would it not?”
Melody’s grip tightened on the pistol, but she didn’t lower it. “How do I know she is still alive?”
“Because we don’t want Lady Elodie. She is just leverage. You are the one we want.”
Melody’s stomach twisted. “Who is we ?”
The man stepped closer, his voice low and taunting. “You did not think I would come alone to confront a spy, did you?”
“All I do is decipher codes, nothing more.”
He chuckled. “You have done much more than that, my lady. You have written a code that no one has been able to break. And that makes you very valuable.”
“So this is about the code?”
The man held his hands out wide. “If you willingly come with us, we will release Lady Elodie.”
“Where do you want to take me?”
“To France, of course.”
Melody’s resolve hardened. She had no intention of going to France or letting this man control the situation. She cocked the pistol, her voice sharp and deadly. “Tell me where my sister is, or I will kill you.”
The man’s smile faltered for the first time. “You are no killer, my lady.”
“Given the right circumstances, I can be,” Melody responded.
“Put the pistol down and I will take you to your sister,” the man said smoothly, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Why should I trust you?” she demanded.
The man bowed again. “Forgive me. I am Pierre. I was posing as a footman in your grand manor.”
Melody’s heart skipped a beat. The footman. She had found him. “And who is your partner?”
Pierre tsked, wagging a finger. “I cannot reveal that just yet.”
“Yet you expect me to trust you?” Melody shot back, keeping her stance firm.
Glancing at the manor, Pierre asked, “Where is your shadow, my lady? Isn’t that what your friend, Jasper, called him?”
“I have no shadow.”
Pierre’s lips curled into a sly smile as he took a deliberate step closer. “I am referring to Lord Emberly. You two seem awfully close. Not that I blame him. You are quite beautiful.”
“We are merely friends,” Melody said, training the pistol on him.
“Do not insult me by implying there is not anything more going on between you,” Pierre stated. “Lord Emberly is a spy, just like us.”
Melody’s arm was beginning to tire, but she had no intention of lowering the pistol. She refused to give Pierre the advantage. “Do not come any closer, or I will shoot.”
Instead of backing away, Pierre walked over to the bench and sat down as if the threat of being shot didn’t faze him in the least. “I want you to come work for us.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want me to work for the French?” she repeated in disbelief.
Pierre nodded, his smile returning. “You are on the losing side.”
Melody huffed. “Not from where I am standing.”
“Napoleon will eventually conquer England, and you could be on the right side of history,” Pierre said confidently.
“I am quite content where I am,” Melody responded.
Pierre settled back into his seat, studying her with a calculating gaze. “I have watched you for some time. Your family doesn’t know your true brilliance. They don’t see what you are capable of.”
“Yet you think they would be proud of me for betraying them? For working with the French?” Melody asked, incredulous.
“You think of us as the enemy,” Pierre said.
“You are the enemy.”
“And yet we are conversing as old friends.”
“No, the only reason why we are speaking is because you have my sister,” Melody declared. “Tell me where she is.”
Pierre stood, his expression still calm but his eyes cold. “Come work for us.”
“No.”
“Think of your sister.”
Melody tilted her chin in defiance. “I am. Elodie would never forgive me for working with the French.”
“But she would be safe,” Pierre countered.
Taking a commanding step towards Pierre, Melody said, “This ends now.”
Pierre chuckled. “You are so young, so na?ve. You can’t possibly believe that.”
“I just want my sister back,” Melody said, her voice trembling ever so slightly as she tried to maintain control.
A flicker of something unreadable passed Pierre’s face. “And I want to finish my mission. We both can’t have everything we want, can we?”
The snap of a twig echoed from the nearby trees, drawing Melody’s attention for the briefest of moments.
“Time’s up,” Pierre said. “What is your decision?”
Melody met his gaze. “I already told you my decision. I would rather die than betray my country.”
Pierre’s face darkened, his playful demeanor vanishing. “That can easily be arranged, my dear. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
The tension hung thick in the air as they stared each other down. Melody’s heart pounded in her chest, but her grip on the pistol never wavered. The very idea that she would work for the French was absurd. She would die before betraying her country or her family.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached from behind her. Before Melody could turn to see who it was, something hard struck the back of her head. Pain radiated through her skull, and the pistol slipped from her fingers as she crumpled to the ground, her vision diminishing.
As she rolled onto her back, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face before everything went black.
Wesley was jolted awake by the crash of his bedchamber door swinging open. Startled, he blinked against the morning light. Standing in the doorway, Watkins had an urgent look in his eyes.
“Wake up, my lord. Lady Melody is missing,” Watkins announced with uncharacteristic tension in his voice.
Wesley shot up in bed. “ Missing ?!”
As Watkins moved efficiently to the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh set of clothes, he continued, “Yes, her lady’s maid noticed that she didn’t return from the gardens last night.”
Wesley’s mind raced as he threw off his bedcovers. “What in the blazes was Melody doing in the gardens last night?”
Still busy collecting garments, Watkins paused briefly to meet his master’s gaze. “Apparently, her lady’s maid thought she was meeting with you.”
Wesley cursed under his breath. “Fetch that lady’s maid. I want to speak with her now.”
Holding a pair of trousers, Watkins said, “She is already waiting for you in Lady Melody’s bedchamber. Shall you dress first, or would you like to cause a scandal in the household?”
Wesley hastily threw on his clothes, barely bothering with his cravat, before making his way briskly down the hall. His mind was a storm of questions and concerns. Upon reaching Lady Melody’s chamber, he pushed the door open to find a young woman inside, her face streaked with tears. This had to be the maid.
Not one for pleasantries, Wesley asked, “When did you see Lady Melody last?”
The lady’s maid, clearly distraught, tried to compose herself. “It was late?—”
“I need specifics, Woman!” Wesley interrupted, his voice harsher than he intended.
Watkins, who had followed him silently, cleared his throat in disapproval. “This is Lydia, and she has been Lady Melody’s lady’s maid for many years now.”
Wesley forced himself to soften his tone, though the urgency remained. “I am sorry, Lydia, but I need to know precisely how long Lady Melody has been missing.”
Lydia swiped at the tears and stammered, “She went to the gardens before midnight.”
He scrutinized her, searching for any hint of doubt. “You are certain of that?”
“I am, my lord.”
Running a hand through his hair, Wesley asked the next question that gnawed at him. “Why did you believe she was meeting with me?”
Lydia hesitated before responding, “A note was slipped under the door. I didn’t read it, but I assumed it was from you.”
“And you let her go?” Wesley exclaimed.
Before he could press further, Rosella’s voice came from the doorway. “Wesley, you are being rather rude,” she chided lightly. “She did nothing wrong here.”
Wesley shot his sister a frustrated look. “What do you want, Sister?”
Ignoring his irritation, Rosella walked over to Lydia, sitting beside her on the bed. “It is all right. My brother is just concerned. Can you tell us exactly what happened?”
Lydia sniffled. “Lady Melody was upset about her sister. Then the letter arrived. I tried to dissuade her from going, I swear, but she insisted.”
Rosella gave her a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about her plans to go to the gardens?”
Lydia sighed heavily, guilt evident in her voice. “I didn’t want her to get into trouble.”
“So you were protecting her?” Rosella pressed.
Lydia nodded, her voice cracking. “Yes, I thought I was, but I should have gone with her…”
Rosella squeezed Lydia’s hand. “If you had, something terrible might have also befallen you.”
Lydia sobbed. “I am so sorry.”
Rising, Rosella gave Wesley a pointed look. “I do not think Lydia did anything wrong. Do you?”
Wesley was a smart enough man to know when to let a matter drop. Lydia didn’t know anything more than what she had already shared. “No, she did not.”
Rosella gave him a brief smile. “Was that so hard to admit?”
“It was, actually,” he responded with a grimace.
Lowering her voice, Rosella walked over to her brother and spoke softly. “We need to talk privately.”
Wesley followed her down the corridor to the parlor. Once inside, Watkins closed the door behind them. Wesley wasted no time. “What do we know?”
Watkins crossed his arms over his chest. “There are signs of a struggle in the gardens, near a bench.”
Wesley’s hands balled into fists as the anger surged again. “Why would Melody go out alone? It is madness.”
Leaning against the wall, Rosella answered quietly, “It must have been about Elodie. That is the only reason she would take such a risk.”
“Regardless, she should have come to me,” Wesley declared. “I would have kept her safe.”
Rosella gave him a knowing look. “Would you have let her go?”
“Of course not!” Wesley shouted, his voice shaking. “She is under my protection, and I take that duty very seriously.”
His sister’s expression softened. “Melody is capable. I do not doubt that she thought she could handle this on her own.”
“She was careless!” Wesley’s voice cracked with emotion. “Now she is gone, just like her sister. I failed her…”
He turned to the window, his failure pressing down on him like a suffocating fog. The thought that he might never see Melody again gripped his heart, refusing to let go.
His sister’s voice came from behind him. “Wesley, we will get Lady Melody back,” she assured him.
Wesley whirled around to face her. “How?” he demanded. “We don’t even know who took her.”
Before Rosella could answer, the door creaked open. Jasper stepped into the room, his expression grim. “I know who took her,” he announced.
Now, Jasper had Wesley’s attention. “Who?” he asked, his words coming out like a growl.
Jasper’s gaze flickered briefly to Rosella. “I do not believe we have met,” he said, offering a slight bow. “I am Jasper.”
Rosella returned the gesture with a curtsy. “Lady Rosella,” she introduced herself. “I am this stubborn mule’s sister. You can speak freely in front of me. Wesley has filled me in on the situation and I am here to help.”
If Jasper was taken back by her forwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded, his tone pragmatic. “That will save us some time, then,” he remarked. “A woman arrived in the village yesterday, searching for her husband—Mr. Durand.”
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “The dancing master?”
“Yes,” Jasper confirmed. “But when she described him, something felt off. So, I described the Mr. Durand that we know and she met me with a blank look. That is when I realized the truth. The man who was murdered recently was the real Mr. Durand.”
Wesley stared at Jasper. “You are saying the man we have been dealing with—the one we thought was Mr. Durand—was an imposter? A spy?”
“It would appear so,” Jasper said, holding up his hand. “A French spy was right under our noses this entire time.”
Wesley felt the room close in on him, his mind racing as the implications sank in. “And you are sure about this?”
“As sure as I can be,” Jasper replied. “The man posing as Mr. Durand disappeared last night around the same time Lady Melody went missing.”
Wesley’s fist clenched as he turned towards Watkins. “How in the blazes did we miss that?” he barked.
Watkins’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed his regret. “He just seemed eccentric, like many dancing masters. And he came with impeccable references.”
“Yes,” Jasper cut in, his tone sharper now. “References he stole from the real Mr. Durand, along with his identity.”
Turning back towards the window, Wesley couldn’t quite believe that he had been so blinded by Artemis that he had failed to see what was right in front of him the entire time. Now, Melody was gone because of it. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the sense of failure that gnawed at him.
Rosella placed a hand on his sleeve. “You couldn’t have known.”
“You don’t know that,” he responded. “For all we know, Lady Melody and her sister might already be dead.”
“If that were the case, we would have found her body in the gardens,” Rosella pointed out. “No, this spy needs her alive—for now.”
Wesley squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. “How do we find her?” he asked, his voice quieter but still edged with desperation.
Rosella placed a hand on her hip. “Why don’t you stop being a naysayer and start getting to work?” she asked, a challenge in her tone.
In a voice so low it was almost a whisper, Wesley replied, “I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t, Brother,” Rosella encouraged. “But wallowing in your self-pity won’t help anyone—not Lady Melody, and certainly not you. We need to be smart. We need to act. You are stronger than this.”
Wesley looked at his sister, her words sinking in. She was right. Feeling sorry for himself wouldn’t save Melody. “You are right,” he said, his voice now steadier, more resolute. “We will find her. And we will bring her back.”
Jasper stepped forward. “I think I can help with that,” he began. “Earlier, I saw smoke rising from a chimney deep in the woodlands. It caught my attention because White told me the place had been abandoned for years. That might be the best lead we have.”
“How did you manage to see such a thing?” Wesley asked.
“I have been staying at the old gamekeeper’s cottage,” Jasper explained. “Lord Winston ordered me to remain close, and from there, I have kept watch over the estate.”
Wesley’s gaze sharpened as he considered the information. “If that is where Lady Melody and her sister are being held, then we only have one chance to do this right.” His lips curved into a smile as a plan began to form in his mind. “And I think I know exactly how to pull it off.”