Chapter 18
Philip left for London at a frenzied pace. He rode like a lunatic, with little rest for himself or his horse, until the poor animal could go no farther.
In spite of his push to arrive early, he lost three hours trying to procure a fresh horse midway through his journey. By the time he arrived at the home of Meleri’s sister Elizabeth, he was greeted with the news that she was not at home.
“When do you expect her?”
“The entire family is on a holiday in Italy,” the butler replied. “They will return in a fortnight.”
“Did Sir William accompany them?”
“Most certainly he did, your lordship.”
Philip was about to consider going to Italy, when he remembered Meleri had another sister living in London. “Would you happen to know where Lady Elizabeth’s sister lives?”
“I do, indeed, your lordship, but Lady Mary is not in London at the moment. She is at their country home in Kent. Would you like me to write the address down for you?”
“If you please.”
Once he had the address, Philip set off for Kent. After a mad dash to get there, he arrived too late to call upon Lady Mary and had to take a room at a nearby inn. At ten o’clock the next morning, he presented himself at her house, only to be told she was out riding. He had run into nothing but snags, detours and disappointment since becoming entangled in this jumble of a farce, trying to locate the whereabouts of his missing fiancée, then her father and now her sister. It was a quest filled with impediments, hindrances and obstacles that continued to mount up and cost him precious time. Upsetting though it was, however, there was nothing he could do about any of it. Even now, he had no choice but to accept the butler’s invitation to sit in the parlor and wait for the return of Meleri’s sister.
And what a wait it was…Three bloody hours he had to sit, listening to some great-aunt in her dotage babble on about everything from aardvarks to zucchini, until he was actually wondering if anyone had ever actually died from acute boredom.
By the time Mary arrived with her daughter, Grace, and her gaggle of honking children, he was almost praying she would not return at all, and he would be spared the drama of marrying into this family of lunatics.
Mary was bouncing a fat baby, which she identified as her latest grandchild, in her arms. “Heavens, I have no idea where Meleri might have gone. We were never very close, you know. Elizabeth is the one who was always more tolerant of her. But, Elizabeth is in Italy at the moment.”
“Yes, I was so informed. That is my reason for coming here,” said Philip. “You cannot think of anyone Meleri might turn to in a time of need? She is your sister.”
“She is my half sister and she is your fiancée, so why don’t you think of someone?”
“Like you, I was never very close to Meleri. However, it is of the gravest nature that I find out where she is.”
“Lord Waverly, I am doing my best and trying to think of someone,” she said. She paced back and forth in front of him, patting and cooing at the baby until he was insane with anxiety.
“Surely there is someone. An old friend, a distant relative, minister…”
“Her nanny! I believe her name was Agnes. Yes, I am sure it was Agnes. She would be as likely a choice as anyone, I think. Father was always talking about how devoted she was, how Meleri was so very fond of her. I’m sure you remember.” She paused and gave him a considering look. “Well, perhaps you don’t remember.”
“Do you know her last name, where she lives?”
“Goodness me, I haven’t the remotest idea. I did have her name in a letter my father wrote, but I think I tossed that letter out years ago.”
“Would you mind checking?”
His words obviously startled her. “Here,” she said, thrusting the overweight consumer of too much food at him.
She left the room and Philip looked down at the burden of deadweight in his arms. He had never held a baby in his life—had not, in fact, come within ten feet of one—but he bounced the baby as he had seen her do, until his arms were aching from the baby’s weight.
“Here it is,” she said, coming into the room and waving the letter. “Faris. Her last name was Faris, but I’m afraid it won’t do you a bit of good. I happen to remember that Agnes married several years ago, so her name would no longer be Faris.”
“Can you think of anyone I could ask?”
“My best guess would be to ask someone at Humberly Hall. The servants there all knew Agnes. Perhaps one of them kept in touch with her.
“Would you like…oof!” she said, when Philip thrust the baby at her and bolted from the room.
“Well, I never!”