Chapter 4
“Oh God, Mary!” Cecily choked out after standing by the empty bed with her candle for some minutes, her heart and mind both racing.
Mary was gone, but where? And how? Had she left of her own free will?
Or was she forced? What if their uncle had dragged her into a carriage and sent her to the Earl of Ashworth while Cecily was away?
What if, even now, some unprincipled priest was performing a ceremony to bind poor Mary to that wicked old man forever?
No, the tidiness of the room did not support the theory of an abduction, nor did the placement of the pillows.
Why should her uncle bother with such deception when Cecily would be powerless to challenge a fait accompli?
Knowing him, he would have been more likely to goad Cecily with what he had done.
Cecily thought again of her sister’s desperate, frightened words when she had first learned of their uncle’s arrangement with Lord Ashworth.
“You can starve me to death if you want to. I will never, ever marry that rotten old man.”
Desperate Mary had run away, and she had arranged her bed so that anyone who looked in from the door would think she was still in it, giving her more time to make her escape.
The idea seemed true. It matched the facts and Mary’s impulsive personality. But what was Cecily supposed to do about it?
After replacing the pillows and covers as they had been before, she closed the door and hurried out into the corridor again. There, she almost bumped into one of the maids who was bringing up a warming pan for her grandmother’s bed, despite the summer weather.
“Oh! Do excuse me, miss,” the maid cried out and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m so sorry. You’re not hurt, are you?”
Cecily tried to speak, but only a strangled sound escaped her lips. Clearing her throat, she tried again.
“No, I was the one who ran into you, Betsy. You need not apologize, but let us not talk out here. Mary is fast asleep.”
“Apologies,” the maid offered, now looking guiltily at the door. “I’m so sorry if I’ve woken Miss Mary, after all that’s been going on…”
“I’m sure she’s still sleeping. She didn’t even hear me knocking on her door. Now, you’d better run along to my grandmother’s room with that pan, or the bed will be cold when she comes upstairs, and I wouldn’t want you in trouble.”
“No, miss. Thank you, miss.”
Reminded that there were worse dragons in the house than Cecily, Betsy hurried along, and Cecily returned to her own room to think. It would be a terrible betrayal to raise the alarm and have Mary found and dragged back here to meet the fate both of them found too awful to countenance.
At the same time, Mary was innocent and still very inexperienced in the ways of the world. How far could she truly go alone without risking harm? If anything happened to her and Cecily did nothing to find her, she would be responsible for that harm.
The only solution was for Cecily to retrieve Mary herself and hide her in a safe place.
But how can I accomplish that if I do not even know where Mary has gone?
Back in her room, Cecily spotted something she had missed at first in her hurry to get food to her hungry sister. On her pillow lay a letter, addressed to her in her sister’s hand. She broke it open and unfolded it without delay.
The contents made her gasp and cry out again, covering her mouth with her hand lest that maid be passing in the corridor again.
Dearest Cecily,
Uncle will not be reasoned with, but I will never marry the Earl of Ashworth. He is a revolting old goat.
My heart also forbids marriage to anyone but my one true love, Patrick Winslow. He has ridden to my rescue tonight, and I go now to be with him forever.
Refrain from searching for me, Sister. I anticipate that we will arrive at Gretna Green by morning.
We are confident that his brother, the Duke of Greyhaven, will grant us a modest residence once we are wed.
I am taking none of my possessions with me, as our uncle bought them, and I wish to avoid any reminders of him.
Please conceal my absence for as long as possible.
Ever your most loving sister,
Mary
Cecily reread the letter with the same urge to both laugh and cry. Mary had run away with the younger brother of the very man who had caught Cecily red-handed at Mildenhall House tonight.
She vaguely remembered Mary talking about dancing with this Patrick at some of the Christmas and spring parties, but little else. She had not even registered his surname until this moment, or perhaps it held no significance before she met the Duke of Greyhaven.
It was obvious, too, that Mary had no idea how far away Gretna Green was from London.
Surely, Patrick must know that they’d be lucky to cover that distance in a week, in fine weather.
He must also know that with Mary under one-and-twenty, there could be no marriage in either England or Scotland without Lord Holt’s permission.
The wayward pair would therefore travel together as an unmarried couple, and Mary could very easily be ruined.
Not knowing Patrick, Cecily could not even be sure of his true intentions toward Mary.
His older brother seemed to have no qualms about flirting with women, even though he was already married.
Patrick might well share the same lax moral standards.
What if Mary had been seduced by the empty promises of a rake and was left abandoned with an illegitimate child? Cecily did not even know how long Mary had been gone or how far she had traveled. Every scenario that came to mind seemed worse than the last.
“Oh, Mary, what have you done?” she groaned softly.
As she heard the maid’s footsteps passing back down the corridor, she darted out of her room.
“Betsy, were there any callers while we were out tonight?” she whispered urgently. “I mean, callers for my uncle.”
“Begging your pardon, miss, but your uncle was out at his club all evening, and he has not come back yet.”
“So, no one called?” Cecily pressed, unable to ask specifically whether anyone had called for her sister without giving the game away.
Betsy shook her head. “No, miss. No one called, and it was only Miss Mary and the rest of the servants here. I don’t know who you were expecting, but I’m sure Lord Holt can answer any questions tomorrow better than I can.”
“I’m sure,” Cecily agreed, withdrawing again. “Goodnight.”
Mary had left the house secretly, it seemed, and no one would know the time of her departure.
“Oh, there was a message for Miss Mary, though,” Betsy suddenly added. “A boy brought it at about eight o’clock, and I took it upstairs myself.”
“Eight o’clock?” Cecily repeated, veiling her interest as far as she could.
“Yes, I remember wondering if it was a reply to the message Miss Mary sent out at six o’clock, but it seemed too early for that.”
Cecily swallowed and nodded. If the message to Mary came at eight, then she had fled between then and the time of Cecily’s return home.
“You’re probably right, Betsy,” she said. “I doubt it was anything important. However, you’d best not mention those messages to anyone but me. I don’t think Lord Holt or Lady Holt would like it if they knew that you’d been helping Mary send messages when she’s meant to be confined at home.”
Now, Betsy looked horrified.
“But no one ever said I wasn’t to, and I’m the one who always helps Mr. Woolton with the messages…”
“Yes, it’s not your fault,” Cecily soothed her. “I think my uncle forgot, but he would have told Mary that she wasn’t allowed to write to anyone if he had thought of it.”
“I’m so sorry, miss. I won’t be in trouble, will I?”
Cecily shook her head and made herself smile. “Forget all about it. I won’t say a word, and I’m sure Mary won’t either. Now, off to bed.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”
However difficult it seemed, the only solution was to find Mary herself, ideally before her absence was noticed.
At least now, Cecily knew the approximate time her sister had left and had some clues to follow, including the name of Mary’s lover and her limited knowledge of his older brother, the Duke of Greyhaven.
The butterflies returned to her stomach as she realized she might have to beg the Duke for assistance in finding his brother. If she could find Patrick, then she would find Mary. But what explanation could she give, and what might the Duke ask in return?
Putting those unsettling questions out of her mind for now, Cecily decided to focus on the immediate tasks.
The house was quiet, and she assumed her uncle was still at his club.
Quietly going down to the library, she retrieved Debrett’s Peerage and an atlas of the British Isles and took them upstairs with her.
As well as Greyhaven Park, the Duke appeared to own a range of other properties scattered around the country.
With dismay, Cecily noted a farm in Sussex, woodland in Nottinghamshire, and a small manor in Yorkshire.
Patrick might be taking Mary to any of these, or even to somewhere else not owned by his brother.
What am I to do?