Chapter 10
Michael stood in the library of his London townhouse, staring out of the window into the garden beyond, lost in his own thoughts, when his butler entered the room, announcing the arrival of Colin and the Marchioness of Worthington.
“Please, show them in, Mr. Quincy.” Squaring his shoulders, he turned to greet his guests.
“Michael,” Colin said as he walked through the door, his face lined with worry, his jaw set in a determined expression. “I have brought the marchioness to hear of the progress, or lack thereof, on Rebecca’s case.”
The anger in his voice was unmistakable. Colin had been with Michael and the Bow Street Runners all day and knew as much, or as little, as Michael did, but they had agreed to speak with Emmeline together.
Emmeline entered the library and stopped, hesitating at the threshold for a moment in uncertainty. The last time that she had visited the townhouse, Michael’s grandfather had still been alive.
Michael’s memory spiraled backward through time to the little girl that she had once been, sitting on his grandfather’s knee as he had read them stories from the myriad of leather-bound books, her favorites always being those of high adventure.
Shaking himself out of the nostalgic melancholy of his heart, he met her eyes with determination.
“Please, come, sit, make yourself comfortable. I will have Mr. Quincy bring us some refreshments.”
“I do not care for refreshments,” Emmeline clipped, her voice hard, cold, determined. “What have you discovered about Rebecca’s disappearance? Mr. Barrington would not tell me anything on the carriage ride over.” She shot Colin a disapproving look.
Michael took in Colin’s haggard state, with his fearful, sorrow-filled eyes, and felt the need to protect his cousin from the marchioness’s undeserved wrath. “That is because there is nothing to tell,” Michael replied in a clipped tone.
“Nothing?” Emmeline demanded, a look of frustrated hysteria flickering in her eyes. “Nothing!” her voice raised an octave.
Michael sighed, sinking down into the leather chair behind his desk. “The Bow Street Runners have not been able to find any evidence of your sister’s disappearance other than the locket and handkerchief that were found the night of the concert.”
Emmeline stood staring down at him in exasperation. “How can there be nothing?”
“Whoever took her is either an experienced criminal or was very fortunate that night to not have been seen by anyone in attendance,” Michael explained.
“We have interviewed every person who was in attendance that night. Not a single person remembers seeing your sister being taken. Are you certain that your mother had no hand in it?”
Emmeline’s nostrils flared, her eyes blazing with fire. “How dare you!”
“It would not be the first time that she took one of her daughters away under false pretenses,” Michael reminded her, anger causing him to rise to his feet once more.
“Rebecca’s disappearance has nothing to do with what happened between us,” Emmeline ground out, clenching her teeth so hard that Michael imagined himself hearing them break. “My mother would never do such a thing!”
“I would not be so certain.” Michael turned his back to her and walked over to the carafe of spirits on his side table, pouring himself a drink to steady himself.
Emmeline stomped after him. “How dare you speak of my family in such a way! How dare you turn your back to me! How dare you place your wounded pride over the well-being of others!”
“Enough!” Colin commanded, his temper getting the better of him.
Any respect toward rank was gone from his customary manner.
“This has nothing to do with either of you!” He turned angry eyes toward his cousin.
“Can you not put aside your feelings of betrayal for the sake of an innocent woman who has never done harm to anyone?!”
Michael turned to face Colin, shame flooding his mind and heart for his behavior. The sight of his cousin’s agony was more than he could bear. “Forgive me, Colin. Of course, Rebecca is the priority. I spoke from a place of anger, and I apologize.”
Colin deflated, collapsing into the nearest chair. “It is my fault. I never should have left her side that night. How can I ask her to marry me when I cannot keep her safe?”
Emmeline moved across the room to lay a reassuring hand on Colin’s arm.
“It is not your fault. It is not anyone’s fault but the person or persons who took her.
I was sitting in front of her and heard nothing.
Mother was sitting next to her and saw nothing.
Are we to blame as well?” She shot Michael a warning glare not to say anything.
Colin shook his head. “You and your mother are blameless.”
“And so are you,” Emmeline reassured him gently but firmly.
In that moment, Michael could not help but feel admiration for her kind treatment of his cousin. Sighing, he released his pent-up anger and silently vowed to not allow it to cloud his judgment again in the search for Rebecca. Walking over, he handed Colin a glass of spirits.
“Drink this. It will restore you.” He lowered himself down into the chair across from his cousin. “I apologize for my behavior. It has been a long day filled with fruitless efforts.”
Emmeline, seeming to accept his apology, took the seat nearest Colin.
“I, too, have had no luck in obtaining any further insight. I have stared at this locket and handkerchief all day and have yet to determine its meaning.” Emmeline pulled the handkerchief and locket from her reticule and handed them to Michael for examination.
“Perhaps there is no meaning behind them. Perhaps she simply dropped them in the attempt to free herself,” Michael offered unhelpfully as he took them from her.
Emmeline shook her head. “I am certain that they are a message.”
“What good is a message if the person that it was left for cannot decipher it?” Michael asked pointedly. He turned the handkerchief over in his hands, finding no evidence of a message.
While he admired Emmeline’s tenacity for finding any clue that might lead them to the recovery of Rebecca, he did not see how following false leads would do anyone any good.
“I am sorry, Emmeline, but I do not see a message here.” He handed the cloth and locket back to her, true regret in his heart.
Emmeline took them from his hand; no sign of the earlier anger remained in her eyes. “Do you remember when we were children and father would create riddles for us to solve?” She met his gaze with determination.
Michael nodded his head. “I do. I remember us enjoying them so much that we would make riddles of our own in an attempt to be half as clever as your father. I believe that I still have some of them in a box around here somewhere.”
Emmeline spared him a small, nostalgic smile before continuing on.
“If we look at this situation logically,” Emmeline began as if she were solving such a puzzle, “we know that this handkerchief was in Rebecca’s reticule.
The only other place that she ever kept it was in her…
” Here, Emmeline stopped, blushing slightly.
“I believe that we understand your meaning,” Michael replied gently, giving her the room to avoid further embarrassment.
“Just so.” Emmeline nodded in gratitude. “So how did it get on the ground, dirty, and ripped asunder?”
“Fabric is easily damaged in an attack,” Michael noted. “Especially something as delicate as a lady’s handkerchief.”
“But how was it out of its place to begin with?” Emmeline continued to press on.
Michael leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow in thought as he silently mulled over the possibilities. “It is possible that she had it out of her reticule at the time that she was taken.”
“She was taken from her seat at the concert. If it had been out and fallen when she was taken, we would have found the handkerchief near her chair, not on the next street over,” Emmeline reasoned pointedly.
Michael was once again struck by Emmeline’s keen intelligence and swift reasoning. “That is true, unless she was clutching it the entire time.”
“Would you continue to clutch a handkerchief in your hand if you were being attacked?” Emmeline demanded pointedly, as if she expected better of him than that.
“I would not,” Colin answered for him ardently. “I would be beating the other man senseless.”
“Precisely.” Emmeline nodded in approval at her sister’s suitor. “Rebecca may be a lady of the ton, but she has a fierce, passionate nature that would not allow her to be taken demurely. She would have fought back.”
Michael nodded, beginning to understand Emmeline’s stubborn resolve about the handkerchief. “If this were one of your father’s riddles, what would you do first to solve it?”
Emmeline’s lips pursed in thought. “We would first read the words of the message, but there appear to be no words on either the locket or the handkerchief.”
Michael nodded in agreement.
“If there were not a written message, then we would move to the other elements of the clues. Father would place objects in unexpected locations, such as salt in a teacup near a carafe of water to represent the sea, a flower in the library pointing to the garden, a riding bonnet on the bed with the ribbons leading to the stables. Each misplaced item served as a piece of the solution.”
“For example, the locket being made of silver or the handkerchief being made of cloth might lead us to another item or place,” Colin volunteered.
“Precisely,” Emmeline agreed.
“A dirty, torn cloth,” Michael noted thoughtfully, “makes me think of a laundress or seamstress, but I do not know how that would apply here.”
Emmeline suddenly sat upright, her eyes burning with a fierce glow.
She reached out, grabbing his hand to silence him.
“I might know,” she breathed, leaping up from her chair.
She scurried over to the door of the library.
“Mr. Quincy, a carriage if you please,” she requested, turning back to face Michael and Colin.
“Where are you going?” Colin asked, concerned as he rose from his chair.
“To the market,” Emmeline answered enthusiastically.
“You believe that Rebecca is at the market?” Michael asked in confusion. “If she were there, the Bow Street Runners would have found her by now.”
He stood, crossing the room to her side.
He gazed down into her eyes, the old fire that he had known and loved flaring up at him from their whisky amber depths.
His heart stuttered in his chest, and he had to remember to breathe.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he felt the old desire for her reawakening within him.
Oblivious to the tumult that her passionate nature had caused within him, Emmeline shook her head. “I know that Rebecca may not be at the market, but the laundry maid is.”
“Laundry maid?” Colin asked, coming to join them at the threshold of the library. He exchanged a questioning look with Michael, but Michael was no wiser than his cousin on the matter.
“I will explain along the way. We must make haste.” Emmeline ushered them both through the door and out into the hall.
“Your carriage awaits, my lady,” Mr. Quincy announced as he emerged from the foyer beyond, bowing in respect of her station.
“Come,” Emmeline commanded of the clueless men who stood flanking her. “We must away!”