Chapter Thirty-One
T he next day, Edith was seated in the breakfast room with her father when a footman presented her with a letter from Alicia.
She broke the wax seal with a fingernail and silently read the note. “Lord Harbury is missing!”
“Tell me what has happened,” her father replied calmly.
“Miss Tilford writes that her brother didn’t come home last evening. He sent no word as to his whereabouts, which is quite unlike him.” She paused. “I can’t imagine the baron would do anything intentionally to cause his sister to worry.”
Louisa rushed into the breakfast room. “My maid tells me there is something of grave importance in a letter you received, Edith.”
“Alicia writes to say that her brother is missing.”
“Perhaps the baron is with Lord Wycliffe,” Louisa suggested. “If you send a missive to Wycliffe, Lord Essex, I’m sure the matter will be easily resolved.”
“Would you, Father?” She was seated next to her father at the round mahogany table. “I believe Lord Wycliffe resides on Curzon Street.”
He looked down at his plate of food before sighing and getting to his feet. “I will repair to my study and dash off a quick note to the viscount.”
When her father had exited the room, Edith let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“I’m sure he is well, Edith.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Louisa smothered a yawn. “My maid woke me to give me the news. I might as well have breakfast.”
Her friend had eaten a roll and some eggs when Edith’s father returned to the breakfast room.
“The missive is sent.” He waved a hand to signal that the footman should take his cold plate of food. Her father moved to the sideboard and picked up a clean plate.
After finishing breakfast, Edith’s father retired to his study while Edith and Louisa waited for word of Lord Harbury in the drawing room. Soon after, a commotion in the corridor caught their attention.
“Let me through, man!” Lord Wycliffe entered the drawing room, a footman trailing behind him.
“It’s all right,” Edith told the servant. “Leave us and close the door behind you.”
“I just received your father’s note,” Lord Wycliffe said after the footman departed. “Nathaniel was not with me last evening. I’ve sent Bones to ask after him at the gentlemen’s clubs in St. James’s. There is one other place I will check; the reference we had for Mrs. Stafford is St. Mary’s in Mortlake.”
“Is that where you are going next?” she asked the viscount.
“After I speak with Mr. Bones.”
“Good.” She rose to her feet. “Lady Louisa and I will keep you company.”
“Lady Edith- “
Louisa also stood up. “We either go with you, Lord Wycliffe, or we will make our own way to the church.”
Faced with two determined women, the viscount made a rude noise. “Come along, then.”
Lord Wycliffe strode from the room, down the corridor, and into the entry hall, where a footman handed him a hat and walking stick, Edith and Louisa in his wake.
“Please tell my father Lady Louisa and I have gone to Thorne’s Lending Library with Lord Wycliffe.” She was glad to see her maid Mary rush down the main staircase, two cloaks in hand. “Thank you, Mary.”
The women donned their outerwear while Lord Wycliffe stood nearby, scowling.
“We’re ready!” She brushed by the viscount and through the front door held open by a footman. “Come along, my lord!”
* * * * *
T he first thing Nathaniel felt upon awakening was a pounding in his skull. He was lying on hard-packed earth, shivering, the cold seeping into him like a festering wound. Rolling to his side, Nathaniel sat up gingerly, realizing his hat was missing. Reaching a hand to the back of his head, he felt a knot on his scalp and something sticky. Probably blood.
Squinting in the low light of his enclosed space, he suspected he was in the mausoleum. There was a mound of blankets nearby on the marble floor and a coil of rope. Beyond those items, the wooden door to the crypt stood open.
“Thank heavens!” He didn’t know what he would have done if he were locked in. Shout until someone heard him, or until he lost his voice, he imagined.
Nathaniel stood up slowly, reaching out a hand to steady himself on a stone shelf. There were no coffins visible in the small building. He closed his eyes a moment, feeling dizzy. Opening his eyes again, he slowly made his way to the open door, one hand sliding along the shelf and the wall to help him remain upright. When he made it to the door, he grasped the door jam, feeling a wave of nausea overtake him. Nathaniel leaned over and cast his accounts. Breathing deeply of the damp earth around him, he looked up, blinking, into a bright day.
How long had he been unconscious? He’d obviously spent the night in the mausoleum. Alicia would be worried. Nathaniel took a deep breath and looked around him. His tall beaver hat was a yard in front of him, his walking stick near his feet. Steeling himself, he bent down to grasp the walking stick with the hand that wasn’t clutching the wooden door jam.
“Oh heavens.” He felt the nausea again but breathed in and out rapidly. Walking stick in hand, he released the door jam and stepped forward.
He neither saw nor heard anyone around him save the chirping of a nearby swallow perched on a gravestone. He slowly made his way to his muddy hat and picked it up. Visibly trampled on by one or more people, it looked unsalvageable. He stumbled back through the churchyard to where he’d seen the carriage he’d followed yesterday.
It was no longer there, but Nathaniel recognized the one now replacing it: Cecil’s unadorned black town carriage.
* * * * *
“S t. James’s Street ,” Lord Wycliffe called to his coachman as he assisted Edith and Louisa into the carriage.
She sat beside Louisa, and the viscount took the bench across from them.
“Lady Edith, you had a servant lie to your father.” Lord Wycliffe’s bemused expression was easily visible in the sunlight streaming into the coach from the uncovered windows.
“If I hadn’t, he would not have allowed me to accompany you to search for Lord Harbury.” Although she spoke calmly, Edith wasn’t comfortable lying to her father.
There followed several minutes of silence until the coach came to a halt.
“We’re in front of White’s,” Louisa said with a grin as she looked out the carriage window. “On a street where ladies should not be seen.”
A knock came at the carriage door. Lord Wycliffe leaned forward and opened the door; Mr. Bones stood outside.
“Lord Harbury is not in any of the clubs, my lord, and has not been seen by any of my contacts.”
“Well done, Bones. I’ll see you on Curzon Street this evening.”
“Very good, my lord.” Bones shut the carriage door. They could hear the man tell the driver to proceed to Mortlake, and the coach rolled away.
“Alicia told us the church was the only employment reference our Mrs. Stafford used.” She added after a moment, “And you checked her reference, Lord Wycliffe.”
“She was the parish secretary for almost two years. I spoke with the vicar who had nothing but praise for the woman.”
“Which leads one to wonder why she needed another position,” Louisa replied.
“I asked the vicar why she was no longer working at his church, and he said he’d recently married, and his wife had assumed secretarial duties for the parish.”
She accepted that the explanation was a good one.
“How far is the church?” she asked Lord Wycliffe to fill the awkward silence.
“Several miles from St. James’s Street. It will take well over an hour to get there.”
Edith groaned as Louisa released a mournful sigh. A moment later, she remembered her scheme to gain access to the prison ships.
“Lord Wycliffe, I had an idea of how we might be allowed onto the hulks in Woolwich.”
“Really?” He raised a brow. “I’m eager to hear it.”
She outlined her plan to have Louisa disguise herself as a maid. When she finished speaking, the viscount nodded several times.
“Your plan may work.” Wycliffe glanced at Louisa. “Although you might have to go into hysterics to convince the guards you are concerned for your relative.”
“I’m sure I can play the part of a hysterical female.” Louisa raised her chin.
Lord Wycliffe replied blandly, “I’m sure you are more than capable of such a performance, Lady Louisa.”
The exchange made Edith want to giggle. As the viscount and her friend then proceeded to ignore each other, she wondered if there might be something beneath their animosity.
Her companions stared out of opposite sides of the coach, and she closed her eyes, not bothering to try and make conversation.
“Edith! Edith, wake up!”
She opened her eyes to discover the carriage was no longer moving.
“We’re here, Lady Edith.” Lord Wycliffe opened the carriage door and jumped to the ground.
“Cecil!”
She knew that voice. It was Lord Harbury!
“Nathaniel! You gave us quite a fright. You look dreadful.”
The baron let out a low chuckle. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Just get me home. I need a bath and a good meal. I can tell you what happened to me on the way to Grosvenor Square.”
“We have company in the coach,” Lord Wycliffe replied wryly.
“Company?”
The viscount vaulted into the carriage as he replied, “Our daring investigators, Lady Edith and Lady Louisa.”