Chapter 24
By the fourth day in captivity, hope had become too exhausting to maintain. The men had claimed they were going to send the letters they had shown her, but Honora realized she had no way of verifying that they did.
They clearly wanted money, but perhaps they had decided to wait to send the letters until they were certain Isolde would not return or send their payment by courier.
And even if they had sent the letters, she did not know how long they might take to reach Leopold and her father, or how long it might be before either man could reply or act.
Worst of all, Cecily had developed a cough during the previous night. Every time the child coughed, Honora’s stomach tightened. She had been walking the small room with her for hours, keeping her against her shoulder, stopping only long enough to sit on the edge of the bed and rub her back.
The room was too small for pacing properly. Honora did it anyway. Three steps toward the window. Turn. Three steps toward the door. Turn. Again, and again.
Cecily coughed.
Honora kissed her hair. “Easy.”
The baby made a tired sound against her shoulder.
“I know.”
The men had not brought enough food that morning, and the last of the milk was gone. Honora had given most of the bread ration to Cecily as soon as they brought it and kept the rest for the child for later.
She suspected that the smaller portion was the result of her attempt at defiance the day before and her request for more food. It was some sick punishment for challenging them, and Cecily would be the one to suffer most.
The house below had been strangely quiet all day. Too quiet. Honora noticed because there had always been some sound before: footsteps, voices, doors opening, men arguing. Right then, there was almost nothing.
She closed her eyes and prayed. Not to God, as her faith in a higher power grew more strained with each suffering cry that came from Cecily. Instead, she prayed to her sister, silently speaking to her as she once had when Honora had thought her whole world was falling apart.
Celestine, please let her be all right.
Please let Cecily be all right.
I’m unsure how much longer I can do this. I do not know what I am supposed to do when she cries and I cannot make it better.
You always knew what to say.
You always made everything seem less frightening.
So please, wherever you are, stay close to her.
Just a little longer.
Please let someone find us.
Please let her go home.
Please let me get her home.
The only reply she received was another cough from Cecily. That time, she had trouble catching her breath, and Honora held hers. When the child at last stopped coughing, she whimpered weakly.
Too soon, the bread rations would not be enough even for the child.
There was no medicine to be had, so Cecily’s cough could only get worse.
And Honora knew well that a child could only be so sick for so long.
If something did not change in the next day or so, her prayers, hopes, and efforts would be for nothing.
Cecily would die, and she would be not far behind her.
She paced for hours that she no longer bothered to track.
Sometime after breakfast, she stopped beside the window.
Cecily coughed again and again. Honora looked outside.
The light had begun to change. It was late afternoon.
She had no idea how many more hours she could keep going.
Her hunger was making every step feel like a mile.
Cecily, while a little bit lighter than when they had first arrived days before, became heavier and heavier in her arms the longer Honora stood with her.
Even her earlier prayer began to feel foolish.
Celestine could not help them. She was gone.
It had been up to Honora to care for and protect Cecily.
She had failed. And now, Cecily would be punished because of it.
Then, she heard hoofbeats. Honora froze, terrified to move until she was sure the sound was real. She listened, summoning the strength to hope once more. Hooves struck hard against the ground below, seeming to vibrate the ground as they drew closer. Her heart began beating faster.
Had someone learned of their disappearance and come searching for them? Or had the men gone to find more of their ilk and take their payment in the form of Honora’s and Cecily’s lives, as they had threatened?
Voices followed. There were men shouting.
She moved toward the door, holding Cecily tightly. At first, she could not make out any of the words. More voices joined the original shouting, and it sounded like a racetrack full of men who had lost their respective bets.
Then, she heard a voice she knew.
“Where is she?”
Honora stopped breathing.
Leopold.
He was there. He had gotten the letter and come for them.
She took one step toward the door, then another. A shout came from downstairs. Another answered. Something crashed. Cecily began to cry.
Honora backed away from the door. “It is all right, darling. I believe help has just arrived.”
The sounds of fighting grew louder, the crashing continuing for longer than before. Another man shouted. Then came the sharp crack of a gunshot.
Honora flinched. Cecily screamed. Honora held the child tightly, though her limbs were trembling violently.
It was all she could do to keep them both upright.
There was another shot and another shriek from Cecily, the latter resulting in a fierce coughing fit.
Footsteps rushed across the floor below as Cecily gasped, coughing and sobbing between breaths.
The door opened suddenly. A young woman rushed inside, dressed in a simple, worn cook’s uniform. It occurred to Honora that the couple of times there had seemed to be extra bread or water, she must have been the one responsible. She looked at Honora, terrified.
“Miss!”
Honora stared at her. “What is happening?”
“The men downstairs.” The girl was breathing too quickly. “His Grace came with another gentleman. They are fighting.”
“Leopold?”
“I only heard them call him “Duke”.”
Another crash sounded below. The girl jumped, slamming the door behind her in the process. “He is there.”
Honora gripped Cecily tighter. “Is he hurt?”
“I do not know.” The girl looked toward the doorway. “There were shots.”
Honora’s face went white. She moved toward the door.
The maid caught her arm. “You cannot go down.”
“I have to.”
“No. Miss, you cannot.”
Honora looked at her. Cecily was crying against her shoulder.
There was another shout. Then silence. Not the expectant silence from before. The new silence felt complete and total, as if it knew there would not be another abrasive sound to shatter it.
Both women listened. There was nothing for what felt like an hour. No shouting, no footsteps, only Cecily’s crying and coughing.
Honora waited. One. Two. Three.
Then, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Slow. Heavy. Coming closer.
Honora’s hands began to shake, and the maid backed them toward the wall, putting her trembling body between Honora and Cecily, and whoever might come into the room.
Then the door opened, and the young maid gasped.
Leopold stood there. His coat was torn at the shoulder. There was blood on one sleeve. His hair was disordered. But he was standing.
Honora stared at him. He looked at her. Then at Cecily.
The baby, still sobbing and rasping, hesitated to turn around. Honora rubbed her back, turning her body just enough so that Cecily could see Leopold if she lifted her head.
“Cecily, darling,” Leopold said in the softest, gentlest voice Honora had ever heard.
Cecily timidly lifted her head, her eyes quickly finding Leopold. She sniffed and rubbed frustratedly at her eyes. Then, she reached a tiny hand out for him and wailed, as if she understood what Honora did: that they were finally safe.
“Da,” she said, softly and broken by tears.
Leopold crossed the room immediately. He took Cecily from Honora’s arms and held her against his chest. The baby clung to him, crying softly.
He closed his eyes for one brief second.
Then, he looked at Honora. She could not stop herself and began to cry.
Not quietly, not neatly, the tears coming with everything she had been holding in for days.
Leopold reached for her. His free arm went around her shoulders. Honora stepped into him. He held her tightly. Then, he lowered his head and kissed her hair. She cried against his coat.
For a long moment none of them moved. Cecily was between them. Leopold held the baby with one arm and Honora with the other.
“Are you hurt?” Leopold asked, the tension in his voice threatening menace if Honora said she was.
Honora shook her head. “No.”
He looked at the baby. “What about her?”
“She has a nasty cough.”
He nodded, his gaze sweeping the bare room and returning at once to Honora and Cecily.
Leopold held Honora a moment longer. Then he stepped back. “We are going home.”
Honora nodded. Her legs felt weak.
Home.
She had not expected to hear Belgrave referred to as her home again. But right then, she was too tired and grateful to question him.
Downstairs, Barnaby was waiting. The rest of the house was trashed but empty, the men taken into custody, the local authorities already on their way.
In the open light, Honora could see a small cut along Leopold’s cheek and another on his hand.
Neither seemed too serious, though Honora noticed the way he flexed his fingers.
She said nothing until they were in the carriage. Then she took his injured hand. “You are bleeding.”
He looked at her. “It is nothing.”
“That is what men say when they do not want to be fussed over.”
His mouth twitched. “I am beginning to understand why Martha likes you.”
Honora cleaned the cut as carefully as she could. “How did you find us?”
“Your father.”
Honora stopped. “My father?”
“He came to Belgrave.” She stared at him. “With the same ransom letter that I received.”
Honora lowered her eyes to his hand.
“The men told me they were going to send those letters to you both,” she said quietly. “I was just beginning to worry that they might not truly do it and neither of you would ever know where we were or what happened to us.”
Leopold swallowed, his composure seemingly fractured. He breathed slowly until he appeared to trust himself to speak again.
“Your father told me everything.”
She looked up. “What does that mean?”
Leopold was quiet for a moment. “It means I know about Celestine.”
Honora’s heart sputtered weakly.
“That she was Cecily’s mother?”
Leopold nodded.
“More than that, I know who Cecily is.” He looked toward the carriage window. “And I know who you are.”
Honora’s hands stilled around the cloth. “You know that I am Cecily’s aunt? That she is my niece?”
“He told me something else, something neither you nor Celestine ever knew.”
Honora looked out at the passing road. For a long time, she said nothing.
She was sure that if she told Leopold that she needed time to recover before he gave her difficult or emotional news, he would happily oblige.
But she needed to know what had changed his mind so quickly about her.
And what did he know that neither she nor Celestine knew?
“What did he tell you?” she asked at last.
Leopold’s expression changed. “Celestine was born at Belgrave.”
Honora stared at him.
“She was my parents’ daughter.” He paused, emotion cracking his voice as he spoke. “My sister.”
Honora’s mouth fell open.
“I do not understand,” she said slowly. “She was not truly my sister?”
“She was sent away from Belgrave because of her white skin and hair.” Leopold’s voice was controlled, but there was something underneath it now that Honora recognized as grief. “Your parents agreed to adopt her and keep it secret.”
Honora closed her eyes.
“Cecily is my niece, birthed by my biological sister.”
Honora was silent. The wheels rolled steadily beneath them, the road stretching ahead. She and Celestine had never tried to pretend that she was not different from the rest of their family.
However, they had all loved Celestine as though she was of their own blood. Honora was stunned to learn that she was her adopted sister. Yet she quickly found that she did not mind. Honora had worshipped her older sister, Celestine, and Celestine had adored her.
They had been as close as any sisters could ever be, and that would be what Honora always remembered. And Cecily would always be her niece, no matter whose blood she possessed. Nothing in the world could change the love Honora had for Celestine or Cecily.
“Celestine would have liked you,” she said after a while.
Leopold looked out the window. “I would have liked to know her.”
Honora looked at him. That was all he said. But it said a great deal.
They reached the nearest magistrate before returning to Belgrave. Statements were taken. The two men were arrested and taken into custody. Barnaby dealt with the remaining arrangements while Leopold answered questions as calmly as if this were merely another piece of estate business.
Honora stayed close to Cecily. And she stayed close to Leopold. His injuries were small, but she cleaned them properly when they were finally alone in the carriage again.
“You should have let someone else do this.”
“I needed to know you were all right.”
Honora looked at him. “I am.”
He studied her. “So is she.”
Honora glanced at Cecily. “She will be, once we can get her properly fed and warm and chase that cough away.”
Leopold reached out and touched the baby’s cheek. Cecily leaned toward him. Honora watched them.
There was no question now. This child had found her family.
They traveled the rest of the way in silence. When Belgrave finally appeared beyond the trees, it was fully dark. The house stood against the night with its windows glowing warmly.
Honora looked at it and felt something inside her loosen. They had made it back, and they were safe.
Leopold’s hand rested beside hers on the seat. Neither of them spoke.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door opened. Leopold stepped down first and then offered his hand to Honora. She took it. Together they walked toward the side entrance.
Martha was waiting in the kitchen doorway. She looked at Honora, then at Cecily, then at Leopold. Her eyes filled briefly.
She said nothing, only turned toward the stove.
Then she put the kettle on.