Chapter 22 #2
“And you are good at evading, Your Grace,” Augusta sighed, finally accepting her defeat. “I shall try and write to you, letting you know about Charity’s well-being. I suppose she will be too stubborn to do so herself.”
Her promise brought a small sense of relief to Duncan. If he could not have Charity completely, then maybe a small window in her life was better than nothing.
Duncan pointed to the stairway and began to escort Augusta down the staircase. He had never had any younger siblings, but he felt protective of her like an older brother. The both of them had only made to the middle of the staircase when Charity came running from the downstairs hallway.
“Matilda? Where are you, dear?” she said, frantically looking around. “Oh, she was here just a moment ago.”
Charity had been with Matilda just a moment ago. She was beside her as she exchanged her goodbyes with the housekeeper, and then the next moment, Matilda was nowhere to be seen.
“Is everything alright?” Duncan called out to her, and Charity looked up at him to find Augusta by his side. Both of them were looking at her with an expression of concern.
“It’s Matilda,” Charity replied, flushed. “I just… I can’t seem to locate her, and she was here just a moment ago. Oh, I… I don’t know, I’m having just the worst possible thoughts… what if… something…”
“Breathe, Charity.” Duncan was by her side in a flash, putting one of his hands on her shoulder to settle her. “We will find her.”
Charity felt immediately calmer with Duncan by her side. She looked at him, cheeks burning.
“I just…”
“I know,” Duncan nodded, as though he would read her mind. “You’re worried something bad has happened to her, because you’re on edge and still worried about your uncle resurging. I’ll help you find her, and we will put your mind to rest.”
He was so decisive about his words, as though there was no shred of doubt in his mind that he meant exactly what he said.
“Please,” Charity flushed again. Duncan immediately took the lead and started to make his way out the door.
“I will help you,” Duncan said, not even slightly hesitating as if he had already decided that Matilda would be found within minutes and there was no other possible outcome. “But first, you will stop frightening yourself with unnecessary thoughts.”
Charity nodded quickly, though she did not feel capable of stopping anything in her mind at the moment. Her eyes kept flicking to the as if Matilda might appear.
“Please just help me find her.”
“Matilda is not clever enough to disappear properly,” Augusta stepped closer, trying to sound confident, though there was worry in her eyes too. “If she is hiding, it will be somewhere obvious.”
“You will check the drawing room and the schoolroom,” Duncan said to Augusta. “Call her name once in each place and then return here.”
Augusta listened without protest, which surprised Charity. Her sister was not one to take commands from anyone, yet she had listened to Duncan.
“Come,” Duncan said to Charity, who followed him at once. They moved through the corridor quickly with Duncan leading.
“Matilda,” Charity called out, “Matilda, where are you, dear?”
No answer came, and her nerves began to go haywire once more.
“She was right beside me,” she said with a noticeable tremor in her voice, “now she’s gone. I cannot believe that I could be careless. If I cannot keep track of her, how will I manage in London?”
When there will be no you to help me? She did not say that part out loud, but it stung her to even think about it. She needed Duncan, and surviving without him was going to be a challenge.
“She is not gone,” Duncan said. “And you need to dispel these thoughts from your head. You’re perfectly capable of anything that you set your mind to.”
He said the words with so much certainty that she almost believed him for a moment. But then reality came rushing back to her.
No, I am not capable of this. It was as though Duncan saw a different side of her entirely that even she did not see. Duncan held her gaze a moment longer, then turned again and continued walking.
Charity followed, hating that her heart was still pounding, and they reached the rear corridor that led toward the garden entrance. Duncan stopped near the door that opened to the grounds.
“Matilda,” Duncan called, “Enough. Come out.”
“You think she’s here?” Charity asked, terrified.
“She will be,” Duncan said, then added as he pushed the door open, as if it were obvious, “she always goes to the garden.”
Charity stepped outside after him, eyes sweeping the path, the shrubs, the benches, and the nearest hedges.
“Matilda,” Charity called again, “Please, love. Don’t do this.”
Still, there was nothing.
Charity’s chest tightened again, and she felt the edge of panic return with the helpless thought that she had lost her. Duncan’s hand landed on her shoulder, firm enough to steady her.
“Breathe, and keep yourself from spiraling.”
Charity swallowed and forced herself to take a breath.
Duncan walked a few steps toward the side path, then stopped near the trellis. There, he crouched slightly and peered behind the low shrubs. Charity was confused by the action. Of all places, she would not have thought to look there.
“Matilda, I am not asking twice,” Duncan said in a calm tone.
A small sound came from behind the bush, half sob, half sniff.
“Matilda,” Charity lunged forward immediately.
Matilda’s head appeared first, hair messy, cheeks red, eyes swollen from crying. She was curled behind the shrub, and the moment she saw Charity, she looked like she might cry harder.
“What are you doing hiding here?” Charity said, her heart beating wildly inside of her chest.
“I don’t want to go,” Matilda whispered, “I don’t want to leave here.”
Charity reached down and pulled Matilda out gently, and Matilda clung to her at once.
“I don’t want London,” Matilda said, speaking quickly now, “I like it here. I like the garden. I like the flowers. I like it when the duke is here, and no one can shout at us.”
Charity held her tighter, her heart breaking at the request.
“You can’t run away,” Charity said, avoiding the topic, “You frightened me, do you understand that? You are never to do that again.”
Matilda sniffed and wiped her nose on Charity’s sleeve without any shame.
“I’m sorry,” she said, then added stubbornly, “but I still don’t want to go.”
Duncan, standing a step back, let out a quiet sound that was not quite a laugh.
“This is not funny,” Charity’s head snapped toward him.
“I did not say it was,” Duncan replied, though the corner of his mouth was still threatening to lift. “She is arguing like Augusta. Perhaps the girls don’t want to leave.”
Charity sighed, “Yes, but they have no other choice. Come, Matilda. The carriage is waiting for us.”
Charity pressed a kiss to the top of Matilda’s head, then straightened. Augusta had appeared now, looking visibly relieved that her younger sister had been found.
“Come,” Charity said again and began guiding them back toward the house.
Duncan walked beside them for a short while without speaking, hands clasped behind his back.
Charity tried not to look at him too often.
Every time she did, she felt that stupid knot in her stomach tighten.
By the time they reached the hall, servants were already waiting near the door, and the luggage had been stacked neatly.
The housekeeper stood with a composed expression that looked a little softer than usual.
“Miss Charity,” the housekeeper said, “the carriage is ready, and your trunks have been secured.”
“Thank you,” Charity said, feeling her throat constrict.
Matilda tugged at Charity’s sleeve and then turned toward the housekeeper, sniffed hard, then threw her arms around the woman’s waist with sudden force. The housekeeper froze for a second, then patted Matilda’s back with awkward care.
“Goodbye,” Matilda said into her skirts. “I like you.”
Duncan did not stay near the door for long, and Charity noticed it the moment Matilda stepped back from the housekeeper and wiped her face with the heel of her hand.
He stood a few paces away from the luggage and the footmen, his posture straight, his expression composed, and when Charity finally turned toward him with Matilda still clinging to her skirt and Augusta standing rigid at her side, he did not offer explanations or comfort, and he did not step closer, as if he had already decided that the best kindness he could give was distance.
“Goodbye, Charity,” Duncan said, and his voice was calm, neither sharp nor warm, and that calmness was what made it feel so cruel, since she could still remember the way he had looked when Edward was in the chapel, and she could still remember the kiss, and she could still remember his hands on her face, and now he was speaking as if none of it had ever happened.
Charity stared at him for a moment, not since she wanted to make a scene in front of the servants, but since she could not quite understand how he could say it like that and then expect her to simply walk away as if the last weeks had not carved new shapes into her life.
“Goodbye,” Charity managed, and even to her own ears the word sounded wrong, as though it belonged to a stranger.
Duncan gave a short nod, then turned without waiting for another response, and he walked down the corridor at an even pace as if he had places to be and duties to return to, and not as if he was walking away from the woman he had been holding a few days ago as though letting go might break him.
Charity felt her throat tighten immediately, and she hated herself for it, since she refused to cry in front of the staff, but she could feel the tears pressing anyway, and she had to blink hard to keep them back.
Matilda looked up at her, eyes still wet.
“Is he leaving?” Matilda asked, confused and anxious.
“Yes,” Charity said, and her voice stayed steady only because she forced it. “He is leaving.”