Chapter 17
Christmas morning had never been so foreboding.
Snow pummeled the windowpanes, and wind licked down the chimney, sucking at the flames in the hearth as though personally offended by any sign of warmth.
Despite the mid-morning hour, little light met her when Lily opened her eyes, feeling more satisfied than she ever remembered being.
She stretched, straining her hands towards the headboard—only blushing for an instant when she recalled her husband waking her in the middle of the night and telling her to hold on to it while he took her from behind—and smiled.
Her body was delightfully sore, her muscles and core aching from her husband’s attention.
Lord, but she loved him.
With a contented sigh, she let her hands travel down her naked torso beneath the blanket, pausing at her abdomen.
The family she’d dreamed of was within reach; even if they never conceived children, they would live together as husband and wife, a cohesive unit.
Never again would either of them spend a holiday alone.
Although, she realized when she looked at the rumpled but empty bedclothes at her side, she was alone right now.
She sat up and scanned the room, but there was no sign of her husband. He’s gone down for breakfast, she reminded herself, but the reassurance did little to calm the unease climbing up her spine. Pulling a day dress from the armoire, another discomfiting jolt struck—his valise was missing.
Lily didn’t bother with her hair, leaving it wild over her shoulders as she rushed down the stairs into the breakfast room.
Aunt Margaret sat close to the buffet with an overloaded plate in front of her, but Violet, Timothy, and James huddled on the opposite side of the table, their heads bent together.
The air hung thick with worry, and Lily felt as though she was puncturing a bubble when she barged in.
Aunt Margaret chuckled, oblivious to the tension, and pointed a fork at Lily. “You and your husband were louder than Callum and Violet last night. The mistletoe did not go to waste.”
She narrowed her gaze. “I thought your hearing was failing you.”
“It comes and goes.” The old woman giggled. “Comes and goes…”
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret,” Violet said, having left her position with Timothy and James. She pulled Lily into the hallway and gestured with her chin for the men to join her.
“Did Philip come down for breakfast?” Lily asked, pointedly ignoring whatever dramatics her sister was concocting.
Marigold touched her shoulder from behind, making Lily jump. “You d-don’t know where he is?” The words were taut, stretched over the pulsing and ominous worry that remained unspoken.
“I don’t.” Trepidation stalked up her spine. “What’s happened?”
Archie came up behind her, his lips flattened. “I couldn’t find it anywhere, not without your parents knowing something is wrong.”
“Find what?” Lily’s frustration boiled over. “What in the devil is going on?”
James shifted on his feet. “Your mother has a backache and asked Salisbury to bring her the laudanum.” He swallowed hard, his attention darting to Timothy before returning to Lily. “But he can’t find it anywhere.”
The trepidation in her chest solidified, a lead weight that wrapped around her heart and tumbled to the pit of her stomach. “It’s missing?”
And so is Philip.
No one said the second part, but clearly Timothy and James were thinking it. Violet wore a mask of indifference, but it evaporated when Callum came into the room, his cheeks pink and snow dusting his shoulders and hair.
“There’s a horse missing,” he said. “No tracks I could see, not with the storm.”
Violet hurried to his side, clasped his hand, and directed her attention to Lily. “Did he say anything to you before he left?”
She shook her head, only intensifying the rushing in her ears. “He—I was asleep, and he…” Her breath failed her as her lungs began to seize. “Are you accusing him of stealing the laudanum?”
“No, Lily,” Marigold put in, but she was far from convincing.
“But it’s suspicious,” Archie said. “Concerning, at the least.”
Frustration burst through her dread. “My husband is not responsible for this. I’m sure of it.”
Archie’s expression softened, as though he were addressing one of her nephews. “A dependence like Philip’s never goes away entirely. We can’t rule out the possibility that he took it, especially since he’s not here.”
Lily shook her head again. “He hasn’t been to Boar’s Hill in years. How would he know where we keep the laudanum?”
“It was in the pantry with the burn salve.” Timothy couldn’t quite meet her eye. “I saw you there the other night. He must have seen it when he was—”
Lily thrust a finger in Timothy’s face, cutting him off. “You’re wrong. You’re all making assumptions about him, but I know he didn’t take it. He hasn’t left.”
“Then where is he?” Callum asked.
Where is he? The question she’d asked so often during the past eight years, a question she thought she’d never ask again. “Maybe he went into town.”
“It’s Christmas morning,” Violet said. “Nothing is open.”
James glanced at the window, where little was visible in the blowing snow. “And the storm…”
“If he went into the storm, something is wrong.” Lily’s hands trembled, and she clenched them into fists as panic rose. “He knows it’s not safe to ride in conditions like this.”
Archie cleared his throat. “If he’s taken the laudanum, he may not be in his right mind—”
“He didn’t take the bloody laudanum!”
“Lily!” With the commotion, no one had noticed her mother and father in the doorway, the viscount’s arm around his wife’s waist to hold her steady. A deep furrow creased his brow. “Why are you shouting about laudanum?”
Violet spoke first. “Philip is missing.”
Her mother clapped a hand over her mouth, and her father stood taller. “We’ll organize a search party—”
“Not with this storm,” Callum said.
Her mother left her father’s side and took Lily’s hand. “Did he say where he was going, darling? Did he leave a note?”
Her mind flashed to that horrible morning eight years ago, the scribbled letter left on her pillow.
But he hadn’t left anything, and after all they’d shared, she couldn’t imagine him leaving without a word.
“He didn’t,” she managed, hot, sticky shame and fear congealing into a knot in her gut.
“What does this have to do with laudanum?” her father asked, and Lily’s insides lurched. The truth had to come out, even if it ruined Christmas for everyone.
She swallowed hard. “Philip hasn’t been traveling for all those years. He… he’d left me.”
Her parents’ expressions betrayed nothing, and she barreled on.
“I didn’t know, but he’d developed an addiction to opium.” Her mother and father flinched then. “He was trying to recover before he returned to me. Now everyone thinks he’s taken the laudanum from the pantry and left again.”
She expected horror at the revelation of Philip’s abhorrent vice, or anger at Lily’s deception, but instead her mother rushed forward and pulled her into an embrace.
“I knew he was gone, darling,” her mother murmured. “I was waiting for you to tell me yourself. How difficult this must have been for you.”
Tears burned and spilled over, scorching her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to ruin your holiday.”
“You’re not ruining anything.” She stroked Lily’s unruly hair, and a measure of peace passed through Lily. “I’m happy you were finally ready to tell me. But sweetheart…”
Lily pulled back. “What is it?”
Her mother’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “We didn’t know about the laudanum. We never would have had it in the house where he could reach it so easily…”
She wrenched herself out of her mother’s embrace and glared, hating the collective looks of pity her family sent in her direction. “If you don’t believe my word that he didn’t take it, I’ll prove it to you.”
Her legs churned, her muscles aching and heart pounding as she pushed past them, down the hallway and into the pantry.
She swung the cabinet doors open, pushing aside tinctures and tins of salve.
The rushing in her ears grew louder when the bottle didn’t appear, and panic swirled into a knot in her chest. “It’s here,” she muttered, more to herself than the members of her family who’d chased her. “I know it is.”
But what if it wasn’t? What if the darkest fears she’d refused to acknowledge when she saw her empty bed were true? After all they’d shared in these few days, could he have left her again?
Would she survive if he had?
She shoved the soup tureen aside but froze, hearing an unexpected roll and clinking of glass from the inside. Her lungs were too tight, and she spun to see Callum directly behind her. “I can’t reach it,” she whispered, begged. “Can you—”
He cut her off with a brisk nod and easily reached over her to retrieve the silver tureen, setting it on the table beside them.
The blue stoppered bottle rolled around the bottom.
Callum cursed under his breath. Marigold hissed. “Oh, Lily—”
“I told you.” Lily’s sense of vindication was short-lived as she realized the implication of her discovery.
Timothy swallowed audibly. “Then where is he?”
Before anyone could speak further, Matthew and Reggie burst into the room, their faces twisted with concern. “Mum!” Matthew shouted. “Cricket’s sick.”
Marigold crouched in front of her sons, and Archie rushed to her side. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s throwing up.” Tears streaked down the younger lad’s face.
“I think he was eating something in this.” Reggie lifted a shredded wax paper bag, the confectioner’s distinctive logo immediately recognizable. “I found it in the hallway.”
“Oh Lord,” Violet whispered. “That’s from my ginger candies. I must have left them out by mistake.”
Lily whirled on her heel and marched to the back of the house, her family trailing behind her and urging her to stop. But she wasn’t stopping, not when her husband was in danger. Her fingers still trembled as she tugged on heavy boots and a long wool cloak.
“Lily,” Archie said, stepping between her and the door. “You can’t go out there.”
“Philip is out there.” She wrapped a thick scarf around her neck and pulled a bonnet over her head. “And I’m going to bring my husband back.”
With those words, she pushed the door open and charged into the snow.