Chapter 24 Rhys
Rhys
Rhys couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Magellan begging him not to make her leave. Desperate, he even got out the painting from his closet. For the first time, it did not soothe him. In the portrait the Lady of the Labyrinth was resolutely turned away from him.
She did indeed look like Magellan. Which brought his thoughts full circle back to his original angst. He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? That man was her father. Even an earl couldn’t keep a daughter from her father. This wasn’t the Middle Ages.
Rhys just couldn’t shake the feeling he’d made the wrong decision, and then another wellspring of panic would rise up again, until he was drowning in doubt. He would go to the vicar’s in the morning and make sure all was well. He would stay at a nearby inn and call on her every day.
Feeling better with that plan, he fell into an exhausted sleep, tossing and turning as he ran away from the nightmares of Magellan begging him to let her stay.
When he woke the next morning, he felt ragged. He went down to breakfast to find the guests had departed early, sensitive to the drama that had unfolded and wanting to give the family privacy. The house was empty now. It was just his mother, Cecil, and Vivianne.
Rhys sat down wearily, taking a coffee, and apprised them of his plan to travel to the vicar’s that day.
“I think it wise,” his mother surprised him by agreeing.
He nodded. “I should have accompanied them yesterday.” Not doing so was his mistake.
Why hadn’t he ridden out with her in their carriage or followed behind on his own horse?
He had just sent her off in tears like a coldhearted arse because it was the “right” thing to do.
She should be here, dammit. Why did he let her go?
“She did not vant to go, and I did not know vhat to do.” His mother began to cry. “I did not expect zomething like zhis to happen. He never varned me.”
Rhys shook his head. “Who?”
“Your father.”
“What does Father have to do with this?” Rhys tried to muddle through what his mother was saying.
His mother dabbed at her eyes. “He told me she vould come to zee labyrinth. He made me promise to help her, and he gave me a letter to deliver to her vhen she arrived.”
His father had asked his mother to deliver the letter?
Rhys sat forward. “What did the letter say?”
“I do not know. He made me promise not to read it. He said zee future vas at stake.” She gave a little laugh.
“You know how dramatic he vas. But he knew she vould come one day and he vould not be alive to meet her.” She lifted tearful eyes to him, showing Rhys the pain in her heart.
“He never varned me her father might come. Yesterday, I did not know vhat to do.”
“When did you give her the letter?” he demanded.
“Zee morning after she arrived.”
Blast it to hell. Had he made the wrong decision?
Yes, his heart whispered. He had sent her off with a stranger who he had believed over Magellan, because he had no other answers to explain how she had arrived in the labyrinth.
He thought back to the moment he had handed Magellan’s father the satchel of food for her and mentioned her physical affliction.
She needed to eat at timed intervals to not grow dizzy.
Terrance Brighton had stared at him blankly before covering his mistake.
Because he hadn’t known.
A chill coursed through Rhys.
The man hadn’t known Magellan needed food because he didn’t know her.
Dread overtook him and Rhys huffed out a painful breath, his whole body quaking with fear.
“He did not know of her propensity for getting dizzy if she does not eat.” He’d been trying so hard to be reasonable and logical and nothing like his father that he had missed the most obvious clue.
He stood up, choking on the words. “I have made a grave error.”
“Rhys?” his mother whispered.
“Did you tell anyone of her circumstance? Anyone of her amnesia and how she was found?”
His mother shook her head. “Only Lord Erickson.”
He turned to her in surprise. “You told him?”
Vivianne and Cecil were looking back and forth between them, not understanding.
She tried to explain. “He kept questioning me about her and zee diary. But he’s your friend.”
Erickson was no friend. He coveted the diary. “I will go to the vicar’s immediately.” Rhys strode from the room, barking out orders to ready his horse and pack a bag.
Cecil was beside him, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I’ll ride with you.”
The vicar in question lived on an estate three hours north in Oxford. They rode hard, making excellent time, and arrived at the man’s cottage. Only to find the vicar was an elderly man who lived alone and had no family, certainly no relatives living in America.
Rhys questioned him fully, his heart squeezing tighter with every word until he feared he might stop breathing. The man posing as Magellan’s father had indeed been a fake. Rhys was paralyzed with fear. He didn’t know what to do.
For once his younger brother took charge. “We’ll split up and take both roads. We’ll stop at every inn and tavern.”
Rhys covered his mouth with his hands, feeling ill. “Cecil, what have I done?” Hot tears burned his eyes. “My God, she doesn’t know him. I sent her away with a stranger.”
“Rhys, we will find her. You will find her.” Cecil laid his hand on his arm firmly. His little brother who had idolized him all his life was witnessing him fall apart.
Rhys nodded, forcing his emotions into check. He spent the rest of the day riding hard and stopping at every inn and tavern, looking for Terrence Brighton’s carriage and asking proprietors if anyone had seen a father and daughter traveling together. No one had. It was as if she’d disappeared.
Night was falling, but he couldn’t go home. He would go mad if he had to sit and wait for news. He needed to get to London and hire an investigator. He would hire a whole team of Bow Street Runners to find her.
As he rode, a suspicion wormed its way into his mind. His mother had told Erickson the truth about Magellan. Erickson had also taken a keen interest in the diary. Could he have acted in secret to steal her away? Created a ruse to obtain the diary?
Erickson’s estate was another two-hour ride to the north. Rhys paid for a room and a hot meal at an inn and slept for only a few hours to give his horse time to rest. Then he set out at dawn’s light. He would question Erickson first and head to London.
The wind pushed against him, and he tried not to give in to the despair pressing on his chest like a lead weight. His horse seemed to sense the urgency and stretched harder to cover ground.
When they arrived at Erickson’s, his horse was frothing at the mouth. Rhys dismounted and whispered soft words of praise before handing him over to the stable master.
He made his way to the house, only to be met at the door by Erickson instead of the butler. The man looked worse than him. His hair was wild, his eyes red, and his clothing was in disarray. He was on his way to being drunk.
“Did you find her?” Erickson asked, his voice a pained whisper.
Rhys could only stare at the man dumbfounded. There was no way Erickson could have heard Magellan was missing.
In a blind fury, Rhys grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him hard against the wall. “What did you do?” He shook him. “What did you do?”
“I only hired him to be her father. He was supposed to bring the diary to me. That was all!”
Suddenly the missing pieces fell into place. How a stranger had known about the book and just enough about Magellan to convince him. Rhys shook him again. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know! She never arrived.”
Rhys staggered back. He wanted to break something. He wanted to pummel Erickson’s face badly. Backpfeifengesicht was the German word for that. He raised his fist to strike him but before he could Erickson fell to his knees, weeping.
“I just wanted the book. A diary from Merlin’s sister. Liron, think of it. It’s priceless. I never meant to hurt her.”
Rhys realized there was something Erickson wasn’t telling him. “What happened?” he demanded, suddenly winded.
“Only the carriage returned. The driver said . . .” Erickson was unable to go on.
Rhys eyes widened in horror. “He said what?”
“There was a struggle. When he stopped to water the horses, the man I hired was unconscious. Miss Brighton was missing. She must have been thrown from the carriage.”
Rhys shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Where’s the man? The father—the pretend father.”
“I don’t know.” Erickson broke down. “He ran off.”
Rhys yanked him to his feet. “Show me the carriage at once!”
Erickson led him to the stables, to the back garage. Seeing the carriage Magellan had left Hereford Manor in brought her departure back in vivid clarity. He’d waited on the steps for her to look out the window and wave to him, but she hadn’t.
Because he had forsaken her.
When he saw inside the carriage, he ran to the corner of a stall and threw up, casting up his accounts although there was barely anything in his stomach.
In the carriage, blood was everywhere. The cushions had been tossed, the seat covers torn by a knife.
Had she made it out alive? How could she have withstood the man’s attack?
She couldn’t. She didn’t.
His knees began to buckle. “How could you do this?” Rhys choked on the words. “How could you?”
Erickson was frozen. “I never meant—”
“Bring me the driver! Right away!” Rhys staggered back against the wall.
Erickson admitted the carriage driver must have gone into hiding, and his family did not know when he would return.
Rhys needed to hear the driver’s account, but he didn’t have time to wait.
He had to get to London to hire the Bow Street Runners.
He would get a whole team to find Magellan—and the driver and the impostor.
He would offer the driver’s wife money to convince her husband to come forward and give his account of what happened.
It might be the only way to find Magellan.
He left his instructions and secured his horse’s safe return to Hereford Manor. Then he took Erickson’s fastest steed and rode straight through to London.
Rhys was not a religious man, but he cast up his prayers to heaven for the first time in his life and prayed Magellan had survived.