Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ginger
Ginger stood in front of the bed, her heart growing heavier with every pistol and magazine of bullets that Noah slipped into his bags.
Why does it feel as though I’ve traveled back in time?
She sighed and came up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist as he tied one bag shut. Resting her cheek against his back, she inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of him. “Do you really have to go?” she murmured, closing her eyes.
He chuckled and turned, then slipped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She looked up, lifting her mouth to receive his kiss, which lingered as his lips melted against hers, warm and pliant. His tongue dipped against hers, and she gave a throaty moan of pleasure.
I love this man so deeply.
He smiled and pulled back. “You know, we might have time before I leave …”
She grinned and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him, more gently, but she shook her head. “It’s not the best time of the month. If my estimates are right, I’m likely fertile right now. And you’re not leaving me with child before you go on a dangerous mission again, Noah Benson.”
He pulled her closer, undeterred, then nipped her earlobe, dragging his lips to her neck. “There are other things we can do,” he whispered huskily.
She laughed and wiggled out of his arms. “I’m not giving you a sendoff, you rascal. You didn’t even have the decency to ask what I wanted before you agreed to this adventure. Consider this your punishment.”
He grimaced apologetically. “If it helps, it’s the only way I could think of to help Jack and avoid being recruited by Captain Knight. The man is a menace.”
“You’re a menace,” she returned with a mock glare.
“And now you’re leaving me to deal with this whole mess with Alexander all on my own too.
I’m worried that he didn’t turn up at supper.
He’s been out at that farmhouse all day—is he intending to sleep there?
It’s frigid tonight. And he must be starving. ”
“Take him a blanket and a meal and leave it at his doorstep. Who knows? He may even see it as a peace offering.”
“I’m not fine with him sleeping down there by himself, Noah.” She set her hands on her hips.
“What harm is it going to do? He’s a boy. Those adventures are good for him. By the time I was his age, I’d slept in caves and trees and spent full weeks out in the wilderness with Neal.”
She didn’t need to point out the fact that he was an orphan by Alex’s age.
“Yes, but as you said, you weren’t alone, you had your brother with you.
” She sighed. “I regret not having a third child for that reason alone. Who knows. It might have been another son. Someone for him to traipse around with.”
Noah tipped a smirk at her. “Or it could have been another daughter, and then he’d be surrounded by three females.” He stepped closer. “You know, there still is time to remedy the matter—”
She shooed him away with a roll of her eyes. “You’re relentless, Noah Benson.”
He caught her in his arms regardless and kissed her softly. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered as he pulled away.
Ginger’s throat clenched, and they held each other for another moment.
No words came, despite her best effort. She didn’t want to cry.
Didn’t want to guilt him either. Jack’s friendship had saved them both in the past, and she didn’t have to question why he was going.
And it wasn’t as though Jack ever asked for much.
If he was here, it was because he truly needed Noah’s help.
That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it though.
She released him, watching as he left her and lifted his bags. She hadn’t asked for details about where he was going or how he’d get there—information was a dangerous commodity, and she’d learned well enough not to ask unnecessary questions.
He started for the door to their bedroom, and she followed. Pausing at the doorway, he glanced back. “I love you, rohi.”
“I love you too. Just try to come back in one piece, yes?”
He smiled gently, then was gone.
As the door closed, Ginger stared into the space he’d vacated.
Despite her best efforts, tears stung her eyes and a lump rose in her throat. She sniffled, wiping her wet lashes with the backs of her fingers.
God, please don’t let anything happen to him.
This wasn’t anything like when they’d been separated at the end of the war. She needed to be logical. And they’d spent time apart when he and the children wintered in Egypt.
But this felt different too. More ominous.
She glanced back toward her wardrobe, considering just changing and going to bed, but with Alex still out there, sleep wouldn’t be possible.
Maybe she’d take Noah’s advice, get Alex some supplies, then drop them off at the farmhouse.
She left the room, then headed toward the kitchen.
Just twenty years ago, this had been a fully functioning estate, with maids, a housekeeper, footmen, butlers, and underbutlers.
The war had changed all that. When she’d started the hospital and home, she’d been able to hire many of the former staff to work in new jobs, which had helped the villagers as well.
But the one thing that hadn’t changed?
The kitchen staff.
Ginger’s kitchen skills were pitiful, and with patients and residents to feed, they needed a full kitchen staff still.
The cook, Mrs. Grimes, had been working at Penmore since 1906.
In some ways Ginger felt a special closeness to her now.
She was one of the few threads to her former life.
When her mother visited from London, even she seemed to feel that bond and always asked to see her.
But Mrs. Grimes would already have retired for the evening. Noah and Jack had purposely waited until everyone would be in their rooms to leave the house.
Ginger slipped into the darkened kitchen, then startled. Clara was at the main table, holding a bottle of milk.
Her daughter looked up, eyes widening. “I-I … didn’t know you were still up.”
Ginger smiled. “I might say the same.” She crossed the kitchen toward her. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to be scolded for helping yourself to a glass of milk. Couldn’t sleep?”
Clara nodded solemnly. “I’m worried about Papa. I don’t understand why he has to leave so suddenly. Where’s he going, anyway?”
“I’m not sure. Jack didn’t say.” Ginger went over to the cupboard and fetched a glass for herself. She sidled up beside Clara, then poured herself some milk too. “Would you like some sugar toast?”
Clara smiled. “All right.”
Ginger went over to the bread box and pulled out a loaf, then hunted around for a knife.
At least she knew her way around the kitchen now—before the war, she hadn’t even known how to boil a kettle.
“When I was a little girl, if I happened to come down to the kitchen before Mrs. Grimes had gone to bed, she’d make me a slice of sugar toast too. Sometimes with cinnamon.”
“Alex says you used to make it for him when we lived in the farmhouse.” Clara’s voice was soft as she settled onto a stool near the counter.
Ginger didn’t look back at her and turned the toaster on.
But guilt bit like acid at her throat. Their lives at the cottage had been more cohesive as a family, to be sure.
No cooks, no staff, no residents. Occasionally one of the nighttime nurses or orderlies would come flying down the path from the house toward the cottage to fetch Ginger for an emergency, but other than that, life had been tranquil.
And Alexander doesn’t like change.
“I always thought it helped me sleep better. Or at least Mrs. Grimes convinced me it would.” As the warm scent of toasted bread wafted through the air, the coils of the toaster glowing, Ginger turned back to face Clara.
She hesitated a beat, then managed, “Speaking of Alex—did he say anything to you today?”
Clara furrowed her brow innocently. “Say anything?”
Some of the tension in her chest uncoiled. If Alex had told Clara, she would be asking questions by now. She wasn’t a very gifted liar either. “I-I just haven’t seen him all day.”
Clara twisted one of the ribbons of her nightgown around her fingertip. “Actually, I haven’t seen him either.”
“I think he went to the farmhouse. That’s where I found him yesterday, anyway. Maybe I’ll ask Ivy in the morning. See if he spoke to her.” In some ways, Alex was closer to Ivy than he was to his own sister. They were closer in age, and Noah often gave them lessons together.
Clara frowned. “Come to think of it, I didn’t see Ivy today either. And she wasn’t in our room.”
The weight of her words seemed to thin the air around Ginger. Since they’d moved back to the estate, Clara and Ivy had insisted on sharing a bedroom. They were best friends, and the idea had thrilled them both.
But why wouldn’t Ivy be in her room? It was well past bedtime.
Though it might be entirely innocent, if she was with Alex, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
Both Alex and Ivy were growing up. Their days of shared adventures were coming to an end—especially since Victoria planned to send her to Roedean for the Michaelmas term in autumn—a fact that she’d shared only with Ginger and Noah.
As the heiress to the Fisher fortune, Ivy had a more settled path to follow.
And Victoria needed to keep the Fisher family content.
Lord and Lady Fisher still kept a close eye on Ivy and Victoria kept them happy with quarterly visits and letters from Ivy.
To Victoria’s dismay, Ivy adored her aunt, Angelica Fisher, often trying to copy her sense of taste and fashion.
But Ginger was certain that also was because Angelica indulged Ivy’s every whim, since she had no children of her own to lavish attention on.
Ginger kept a calm demeanor as she turned back toward the toaster.
Maybe I’m worried without reason. Ivy could be with Victoria.
She set the toast on a plate, then buttered it and sprinkled it with sugar before carrying it back to Clara. “Here you go,” she said with a smile. Leaning forward, she kissed Clara on the forehead. “Now take your treats and straight to bed.”
Clara grinned and slipped off the stool. “Good night, Mama.”
Ginger waited until she’d scampered off, then poured her own milk down the drain. Her stomach was already too tight to drink it.
Hurrying out of the kitchen, she followed the hallway that led to the staircase used by the residents to reach a smaller kitchen—once the butler’s pantry—that had been set up for their use. She took the stairs two at a time, lifting her skirt as she went.
Calm down. There’s no reason for alarm.
She reached Victoria’s bedroom within a few minutes. She knocked softly on the door, then hugged her arms to her chest, nervous energy sparking through her.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, then Victoria opened it, dressed in her nightgown. The raven-haired beauty sobered at the sight of her. “Is there an emergency with a patient?”
“No.” Ginger forced herself to sound less worried than she felt. “Is Ivy with you, though?”
Victoria’s delicate brows furrowed. “No … why?”
“Clara says she’s not in their room. That she hasn’t seen her all day. And … I haven’t seen Alex either. I think he’s in the farmhouse.”
“I—” Alarm filled Victoria’s eyes, her lashes flaring.
“I didn’t see her either. I assumed she was with you or the other children.
” Victoria opened her door more widely. She left the doorway, then hurried to her wardrobe and pulled out a coat.
She gave Ginger a worried glance. “You don’t think there’s anything … she follows him around like a puppy.”
Ginger bit her lip, understanding her concern.
The truth was that while Alex might not currently even be aware of Ivy’s crush on him, everyone else could see it.
And Ivy had started to develop into a young woman rapidly the last few months.
It was part of Victoria’s urgency to get her to boarding school.
“I doubt there’s anything untoward. But we should probably make a visit to the farmhouse.”
Victoria nodded, then donned the coat. She closed the door to her room and locked it, then followed Ginger down the hallway.
Within minutes, they were in the motorcar and had started toward the farmhouse.
Ginger tried to keep her teeth from chattering as they drove in tense silence, the headlamps of the car brightly illuminating the path toward the farmhouse. Somewhere out there, Noah and Jack were already on their way away from here.
She wished she had a means to reach Noah now, ask him to delay his trip and help her handle this whole situation with Alex.
Stop being a ninny.
But as they drew closer to the farmhouse, Ginger felt the cold fingers of fear grip her heart more tightly. The windows were dark. Not a single light inside.
She left the car running as she parked and jumped out, Victoria at her heels.
The door was locked; she knocked on it. “Alex! Ivy!” she called.
Nothing.
Victoria knocked hard on the closest window. “Ivy Leah Fisher. Open this door right now!”
She ground her teeth, then went over to a window box and fished around inside it. After finding a key in the dirt, she wiped it on her skirt, then put the key into the lock, fingers trembling.
She opened it. The silence was worse than Ginger had feared. The air was cold, the stove unlit. “Alex?”
No one answered.
Ginger and Victoria stepped inside regardless, then separated as they searched the house, finding each corner as empty as the last.
They weren’t here.
Victoria’s voice trembled as they came together in the living room once again. “It’s dark, Ginger. Where would they go?”
Ginger’s heart clenched tightly. Somewhere out there, their children were missing—and she had no idea where to start looking.