Chapter Thirty-One
It was at least an hour before supper was usually served, but Laurence couldn’t find Anastasia anywhere.
They had no plans together, and she probably wasn’t expecting to see him until the meal was ready, but she wasn’t usually hard to find.
And yet today, she was not in any of her usual locations, and none of the staff seemed to know where she had gone.
It was rather a mystery.
He wondered, as he glanced into the parlor once more, whether her whereabouts had anything to do with the mysterious visits to the pawnshop—and with her nefarious brother.
He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he told himself to ignore it.
He did not tell her everywhere he went, and he had not demanded that she do so either.
She would return in time for supper, and he would ask where she had been.
The uncomfortable idea that she was hiding things—that perhaps she was meeting another man—reared its ugly head inside his mind. It was foolish, really; there were many reasons why she might have business that she did not wish to tell him, or did not feel concerned him.
But the damned thoughts kept reappearing and made his skin prickle.
“Are you sure no one knows where Lady Walsham is, Johnson?” he asked for the third time.
Johnson shook his head. “No, my lord. Although Mrs. Yates, the housekeeper, has just informed me that the maid, Kate, is nowhere to be found either.”
At least she was not out alone. If something had happened to her, her maid would be there to fetch help. Although they were probably just paying calls—there was no reason to think something might have gone awry, surely.
“I am sure the girl is with her ladyship, my lord. Although I will ensure in future that she tells someone where they intend to go, to avoid any worry.”
Laurence nodded. “Yes, that might be prudent… Although let me speak to Lady Walsham first. It is, of course, her choice whether she informs everyone of her movements. And perhaps she did, and I have just forgotten.” He gave a light chuckle, trying to hide his irrational worry from his staff.
He knew she had certainly not told him where she was going that afternoon.
But he was sure she would soon walk through the door and the whole silly business would be forgotten.
He didn’t necessarily want the staff reporting on where she was going, but he would speak to her about telling somebody her intended destination, just in case anything went wrong.
Just to stop him worrying about her.
He wanted—nay, needed—to protect her, even if there was nothing to truly protect her from.
There was a commotion at the parlor door, and Johnson frowned, bowing his head to his master before turning to investigate. Laurence’s heart was in his throat as he heard the normally staid butler ask in a hurried tone, “Where have you been, Kate? And where is Her Ladyship?”
“She didn’t come back,” the maid said, her tone bordering on the hysterical. “I waited and waited, but she did not return and—”
Laurence flung the door open and came face to face with the red-eyed maid. “What do you mean, she didn’t come back? From where?”
The girl shook where she stood, and looked down at the floor. “I—I—I—”
“I need to know where my wife is,” Laurence almost roared; that only made the girl shake more.
“If I may, my lord,” Johnson said, in his usual calm tone of voice.
“Yes, yes, of course. My apologies, I just—”
“Perfectly understandable, my lord. Now, Kate, we need to know where you went with Lady Walsham this afternoon. You are not in trouble—we just must ensure she is safe.”
The maid nodded and whimpered. “I don’t know if Her Ladyship would want me to say,” she said in a whisper. Johnson gave Laurence an awkward look, and while Laurence admired the girl’s loyalty, he needed to know where his wife was.
“Was it the pawnshop on Cheshire Street?” he asked.
The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded.
“Why would Her Ladyship—” Johnson began, looking at Laurence. And then he seemed to realize—perhaps he saw on Laurence’s face—it wasn’t his place to ask. “Never mind. Now, you say she didn’t come back—did you not go into the establishment with her?”
The maid shook her head. “I—I never do. She asks me to wait in the carriage around the corner, and then she returns. She’s never more than half an hour. But today…”
Johnson frowned, as though he found it all highly irregular—and of course, it was. But appearances did not matter now.
“And how long was she this time?” Laurence asked, managing to keep his voice fairly calm.
“I waited nearly two hours, and then I went to the shop myself…but they said she had left a long time ago.”
So she had gone back to the pawnshop, and this time, she had not returned. Laurence pulled his hands into fists and tried to think rationally. If only he had confronted her about it, banned her from going, done something.
Then perhaps they would not be in this situation—where he did not know where she was, or whether she was safe.
“So she went into the shop at what, around one?”
The maid nodded tearfully.
“So it’s been…four hours or so since you last saw her. You can get a fair distance from London in four hours.” If they were in the countryside, there would be only one way to go…but from London, there were any number of routes she could have taken.
Had she left him? Was that what was happening?
He did not think she had shown any signs that she wanted to leave.
They were not some great love match, but he thought they rubbed along together well enough.
Sometimes, he had to admit, he did not understand her moods…
but there had been no arguments, no moment of upset that he could use to explain why she might have left him.
So where was she? Was she meeting someone else? Or had she been taken against her will?
That was the worst option of all, for although he would have been heartbroken at the thought of her leaving him or having an affair, at least she would be safe. If she had been taken against her will…well, there was no knowing what might’ve happened to her.
“I must go and speak to her brother,” he said, having waded through his thoughts to arrive at a moment of clarity.
“He may know something.” He did not relish the thought of having to visit Oliver Carrington, but he would do anything to find Anastasia.
And perhaps she was there, visiting with her brother.
“If she arrives home, or you hear anything about her whereabouts, send a man to come and get me. You know Carrington’s address, yes?”
Johnson nodded. “Of course, my lord. Should we send out the hall boys to look for her?”
Laurence shook his head. “Not yet. There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Let me visit her brother first.”