Chapter 17
The honey-gold sunlight of late autumn filtered gently through the tall windows of the countryside manor, warming the elegant tapestries and polished floors of the estate Sophia's father had gifted them for their honeymoon.
Nestled between quiet hills and ancient, whispering trees, the house had been the perfect retreat for the past month and a half—peaceful, romantic, and far removed from the clamor of society.
But even amid the tranquil gardens and hushed halls, Abigail lingered in their thoughts.
Philip sat at the writing desk in the library, pen idle in hand, his gaze drifting to the window where he watched Sophia walk through the gardens just outside.
He reread the letter his parents had sent before his wedding.
In it, they explained that Abigail had fallen ill and could not attend the ceremony.
The news struck him as odd—her absence, the brevity of Jasper's explanation, the lack of a return address for his parents to respond to, and the silence that followed.
A few weeks later, his parents had sent another letter, revealing they had written to every estate they had known associated with Jasper's family to inquire about the couple, but they had received no reply.
Philip had tried to convince himself there was a simple answer—an extended honeymoon, perhaps, or an unplanned trip abroad—but the unease had festered. After his final conversation with Jasper, just before the wedding, a seed of doubt had taken root. Jasper had seemed... different. Uneasy. Distant.
And now, the silence was beginning to scream.
A footman entered the room, offering a sealed letter on a silver tray. "From His Grace The Duke of Everly, my lord. Marked urgent."
Philip broke the seal at once. The letter was from his parents.
The contents made his blood run cold.
Abigail had been found—left alone at a derelict manor none of them had ever heard
of. Apparently, Jasper had abandoned Abigail there the day after the wedding, paid the caretakers to sustain the household until mid-spring, and then disappeared.
She had been ill. Unresponsive. And, most shockingly of all, she was expecting.
Philip's hands began to shake as he read. His vision blurred, and nausea rose as he imagined his gentle, spirited sister suffering alone in a crumbling manor, abandoned by the man who had vowed to protect her.
He didn't even notice Sophia enter the room until she perched on the arm of his chair and kissed his cheek.
"What is it?" she asked gently, brushing her hand along his shoulder.
"My parents," he said slowly, struggling to steady his voice. "They have Abigail. She's at Bramblewick—an estate I didn't even know we owned. She was... left. Sick. Pregnant. Jasper is nowhere to be found."
Sophia stilled. "Oh, Philip..."
He looked up at her, heart racing. "Something is terribly wrong. I don't understand why Jasper would do this—unless... unless something was never right to begin with. I think we need to go there. Now."
"You know I would go anywhere with you, my husband," she said, her voice firm with conviction. "Let's go. Let's find out the truth."
They began packing within the hour, and by dawn the next day, they were on the road to Bramblewick.
***
The estate was nothing like Philip had imagined. It was beautiful—sprawling lawns dusted with golden and red leaves, hedges neatly trimmed in preparation for winter, and a serene quiet that belied the turmoil within.
They were greeted at the door by the butler and ushered into the warm, stately parlor where Nathaniel and Grace waited.
Sophia embraced Grace at once, while Philip moved to hug both of his parents, noticing the fatigue in their faces.
"What happened?" Philip asked the moment they were seated. "Tell us everything."
Nathaniel and Grace did just that—about the letter from Mrs. Rigby, about Abigail's condition, about her being left with no word or support.
Nathaniel explained how Bramblewick had only recently come into their possession, bought on a whim during a visit to the count and countess earlier that year. Jasper would not have known of it, making it the perfect place to hide Abigail from further harm.
"And she is... she's truly with child?" Philip asked softly.
Grace nodded, eyes glassy. "The doctor confirmed it. She's still so weak, but we're
caring for her."
Philip closed his eyes, fury rising beneath the sorrow.
Later, he asked to see Abigail. He wasn't prepared for the sight of her—sitting in a chair near the window in her bedroom, thin and pale. Her once-lively eyes were now empty, hollowed by grief and illness. He stood frozen in the doorway, his heart cracking.
She didn't stir when he cleared his throat.
Philip turned and found his father in the hallway, away from the others. He pulled him aside.
"Father," he said quietly, but firmly. "I think Jasper knew exactly what he was doing when he married Abigail.
Remember I told you he came to me the night before the wedding—angry, saying Charlotte claimed to have lost my child, that she hadn't wanted to live anymore.
I thought he believed me when he left, but now I do not think he did. "
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "And instead of pursuing the issue with you, he punished Abigail."
"He ruined her to avenge his sister—who, need I remind you, I did not actually ruin. Charlotte is a selfish girl who tried to trap a husband by lying. Abigail? She has nothing but hurt and a child on the way."
Nathaniel nodded grimly. "We will not let this stand."
Philip's voice dropped. "He needs to answer for this."
Nathaniel met his son's gaze. "And he will.
But for now, we watch and see what he does when he realizes she is no longer where he thinks she is.
Remember, he only provided enough funds to support the manor until mid-spring.
What will happen when he writes or visits at that time with the next part of his plan? "