Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Are you sure you want to do this, Your Grace?” Jenny asked as she hauled Alice’s bag down to the carriage.
Alice turned, her stick resting lightly on the cobbles beside her. Although she didn’t need it for short distances now, she found it reassuring to have that support. If she had Frederick by her side—
But she didn’t. And he had made it clear that she never would.
“I am certain,” she said to her maid, and climbed stiffly into the carriage. “My aunt and uncle won’t be overjoyed, but that won’t matter. Better there than one of Frederick’s estates. If he wants space from me, then he will have it.”
She paused for a moment to allow the wave of hurt to pass through her. Perhaps this was childish, but she would not share her home with a ghost, and he had made his preference plain.
Right now, I don’t think I can be around you.
Perhaps in time, they could find their way back to something approaching harmony. But for now, he couldn’t be around her, and she was not the type to force the issue. All it would do was hurt them both even more.
She had her pride if nothing else.
The carriage rattled across the road as she headed out of London to her aunt and uncle’s estate. If she arrived at their London home, she had no doubt her aunt would send her back home to ‘put things right’. Never mind that she had tried to no avail.
Besides, she didn’t want to disrupt Harriet and her Season. After all, if they had wanted anything to do with her, they’d had plenty of opportunity. But once she arrived at the estate, no one would turn her away.
The journey passed by in a heady blur.
The hurt in her stomach grumbled like toothache as she finally traveled down the gravel path to the old manor house that had been her prison for so many years.
As she limped through the front door, held wide by an incredulous steward—most of the staff had traveled with her aunt and uncle down to London—she reflected on everything that had brought her here.
“I’ll see to it that the servants know what they’re about,” Jenny declared with rare fire, helping Alice up the stairs to her old room. That, at least, was neat and kept dusted. Thank goodness for small mercies.
“Thank you, Jenny,” Alice sighed.
“There is no need to thank me, Your Grace. I am always on your side, come what may.” She bobbed a quick curtsy, and Alice was left with her thoughts.
She thought back to the note she had left for Frederick. He would find it when he next entered her bedchamber—she had instructed the servants not to give it to him.
Now, all she could do was wait to see what Frederick would do—and how long it would take him to discover her missing.
The days passed as though they were trapped in glue.
Seconds, minutes, hours, all stretching far longer than they should.
Frederick barely slept during the night, drinking too much to forget, then hating himself for the wooziness the alcohol brought on. After his confrontation with Alice, she had retreated from him entirely, and in case she attempted to speak with him, he endeavored to keep out of the house.
Still, though he knew it was wrong of him, he missed her. The feel of her soft body in his arms, breathing slowly as she trusted him enough to let go of her inhibitions.
How could someone like that betray him so maliciously? It was as though he was looking at two different people.
Nothing about it made sense.
He felt haunted by the loss of her, though he had been the one to remove himself.
Almost a week after their confrontation, he was in the library, drinking by the fireplace and half wondering if she would come in to speak with him—anticipating it and dreading it in equal measure—when the butler came to the door.
“Mrs. Charlotte Norburry,” he declared.
“I don’t know a Mrs. Norburry,” Frederick said with a wave of his hand. “I presume she’s here to see Alice?”
“Her Grace is not in.”
That got Frederick’s attention. He stiffened, looking from the glass in his hand to his butler’s face. “What do you mean she is not in? Is she not upstairs?”
The butler’s lips pinched, and Frederick had a terrible suspicion his world was coming crashing down on top of him. Nothing good came from an expression like that.
“Then where is she?” he snarled. “Am I not to know where my own wife went?” He stormed to the door. “Tell me where she is, Wilson.”
“Your Grace—”
A blonde lady came into view from behind the butler, tears streaked down her face. “Your Grace,” she muttered on a sob. “I think she left because of me.”
“You.” He racked his brains for a memory of her. “Who are you?”
“Charlotte Norburry, Your Grace. I am—I was Alice’s friend.”
That did strike a memory, like flint against flint.
“You are the one she accused of putting something in her drink?” he asked.
To his surprise, she burst into tears and sobbed, her frame shuddering with the force of her distress.
“I did, Your Grace. I thought—well, never mind what I thought. It wasn’t my place to take her revenge for her, especially when she said she never wanted it.
I am so s-sorry.” She pressed her hands to her face.
“But then I came here to see her and put everything to rights, but the servants said she has not been at the house for days now, and I don’t know where she is, but—Your Grace, you must find her. ”
Frederick stood stock still, lost in the maelstrom of his emotions. Days. Gone for days? How could that be? No one had said a word to him.
He whirled on the butler. “Explain,” he growled in clipped tones.
“Her Grace and her lady’s maid left the house six days prior,” the man intoned, bowing his head. “She left a note for you in her bedchamber and instructed no one to inform you, so as not to distress you when you were already distressed.”
“And you listened to her?” he demanded, already heading for the stairs.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Norburry called from behind him. “You must—”
“As for you,” he hissed, turning back to her. “Be grateful I am not calling a constable. But be warned, you will face my wrath when I return. She tried to tell me what you did, and I—” He cut the words off, not trusting himself to speak.
Not wanting to spare her another moment of his time, he hurried upstairs into Alice’s bedchamber.
The room smelled stale, as though no one had been in it for a long time.
Of course, servants must have been—keeping everything spotless, the bed turned down and the sides clear of dust—but he still felt the emptiness from her lack of presence.
How had he not noticed it until now?
He felt as though the world had tipped on its side and he was the only one desperately trying to right himself. There was a pressure on his chest as he spied the note on her pillow and ripped it open.
Dear Frederick,
If you are reading this, you will have noticed my absence. I hope it brings you a sense of peace. One day, perhaps, we can find our way back together, but I see that now is not the time. You do not trust me, and I cannot blame you for that. I hope you will come to see the truth in time.
Alice
She left no endearments, no words of affection. The paper sat starkly in his hands. He had not even noticed her absence in this house, because he had been trying so hard to absent himself.
“Where did she go?” he demanded to the door, where he knew the servants would be piling outside, waiting. “To one of the estates? Where? Which one?”
“Not one of our estates,” the butler said.
“Then where?”
“To Lord and Lady Ravenshire’s estate, I believe,” the man said. “She expressed an expectation that you would not find her there.”
“To hell with that. Ready my horse!”
“Now, Your Grace?” The butler glanced at the window and the darkness outside. “It is night, sir.”
“I know damn well what time of day it is, Wilson! Do you expect me to do everything myself?” He gritted his teeth as he strode past his waiting staff and back down the stairs.
The Ravenshire estate was not too far from London; he would not take too long bringing Alice back. For that was what he would do—he could not endure another moment apart after this. All he could do was hope she forgave him.
His stomach churned, threatening to expel everything he’d eaten, but he ignored it and carried on his way. Everyone scrambled to get his horse ready. The world spun, but he ignored the sensation as he accepted the reins and clambered laboriously aboard.
“Your Grace,” his groom said, the very same that had aided Frederick in purchasing a special saddle for Alice, for what felt like years ago now. “Please reconsider.”
“Come with me, if you are so concerned for my wellbeing,” Frederick snapped.
“I intend to, sir.”
“Well then.” Frederick narrowed his eyes against the swirling disconnect between his head and the rest of his body. His limbs felt too heavy. He ignored that, too. “Let us ride.”