Chapter 27
Stepping down the stairs as quickly as she could without tripping over her skirts, Helena finally reached the hall, where Georgiana was tying the ribbon of her bonnet.
“He is not much better, is he?” Georgiana asked.
“No. He is running a fever now,” Helena replied. “Beatrice asked if you would mind meeting Charlotte without her. Oh, and could you please see that the modiste mends these?”
She held out a pair of Oliver’s soft gloves, and Georgiana reached for them at once. “I most certainly shall. Oh, poor little Ollie. I could see he was out of sorts this morning; he barely ate a thing!”
“Indeed. I am wondering whether we should send for the doctor.” Helena bit her lower lip absently.
“Beatrice will know. Oliver hardly ever gets truly sick. He is usually down for a day or two, then bounces back with an abundance of energy to make up for all the rest.” Georgiana smiled reassuringly. “You shall see.”
“Where is your maid, is she to accompany you with Charlotte?” Helena asked.
“Anne is on her way. I asked her to fetch a piece of ribbon I want to match to the fabric for a winter gown.” Georgiana glanced toward the staircase.
“I did not think Beatrice would be able to come, so I had already spoken to Anne about accompanying me.” She looked around the hall, her gaze moving from one doorway to another.
“Heavens, where is she? Charlotte is going to be here any second now.”
Tristan stepped into the hallway, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm. “Is this the new morning parlor?” he asked dryly.
“I am seeing Georgiana off,” Helena replied with a laugh.
“Ah, yes. The modiste.” Tristan looked at Georgiana with amusement. “Well, enjoy your lace and ribbon searching. I believe Nathaniel blushes most when you wear rose colors.”
Georgiana practically gawked at him before composing her features. “That is unkind, brother. Nathaniel would not appreciate you speaking of him so.” She lifted her chin playfully.
“Interesting...” Tristan's amusement grew. He glanced at Helena and explained, “Usually Georgiana would take any opportunity to declare how much Nathaniel exasperates her. Now she defends him.”
Helena lifted a hand to her mouth to hide her smile, her eyes dancing.
“Really, brother!” Georgiana rolled her eyes before glancing toward the window beside the front door. “Oh! I believe she is here. I shall just tell her Anne will be down in a moment.”
The footman opened the door, and Georgiana hurried outside to meet Charlotte.
“I shall be in the library having tea, if you wish for some company, dear wife,” Tristan remarked. He set off down the corridor, but not before shooting Helena a rather amused smile.
Helena watched him for a moment, laughing to herself, before turning at the sound of hurried footsteps. Anne came rushing into the hall, fastening her cloak as she went.
“Pardon me, My Lady, but where is Miss Georgiana?” she asked, glancing anxiously around the hall.
“Lady Pembroke's carriage has just arrived. Georgiana has gone to ask her to wait a moment or two.” Helena answered.
“Oh dear, oh dear!” Anne hurried toward the door.
At that very moment, the footman opened the door again. Charlotte stepped onto the top step, pale and breathless, and upon seeing Helena, came straight toward her.
“Charlotte?” Helena asked, her brows drawing together.
“Helena, she has been taken!” Charlotte said with grave urgency.
A cold dread seized Helena, her worst fear whispering that Lord Ravenscroft had her sister-in-law. “Georgiana?” she asked, her voice taut with fear.
Charlotte nodded, still trying to catch her breath. “My coachman saw it happen. Our carriage had just turned onto your street when he saw it, but we were too far away to give chase.”
Helena barely waited for Charlotte to finish before rushing to the entrance of the corridor. “Tristan!” Her voice carried, the fear in it was unmistakable.
Then, without wasting another moment, Helena turned to the footman who had already approached her.
“Go to Nathaniel and summon him at once. Tell him he must come here without delay,” Helena instructed. “Please, go!”
“Yes, My Lady.” The footman bowed, hurried to the servants’ hall for his hat and coat, and rushed from the house.
Tristan hurried into the hall, his expression already alarmed by the sound of Helena calling his name. “Are you hurt?”
“Georgiana,” Helena said. “He has her.”
Tristan searched Helena's face, the shock plain in his expression. He took a step back when he noticed Charlotte.
“I have sent for Nathaniel,” Helena said. “I was not certain whether I ought to send for Mr. Markham.”
“I believe you should,” Charlotte added firmly.
Tristan nodded. “Come. I will hear all of it.”
He turned and strode down the corridor toward the parlor, Helena following with Charlotte close behind. Along the way, Tristan encountered Mr. Blake and instructed him to send for Mr. Markham.
Once they entered the parlor, Charlotte took a seat and immediately began to explain.
“I did not see it myself, but my coachman did. As we turned the corner and entered your street, he saw Georgiana coming down the steps toward a carriage. There was nothing upon it to identify the owner, but she must have thought it was mine. The door opened, and my coachman said Georgiana stepped back, but then a man in a dark cloak emerged and seized her. He pulled her inside, and the carriage immediately drove away as though the devil himself were after it.”
Helena rose from her chair, one hand pressed against her stomach. “Tristan, what do we do?”
“It would be pointless to go to his house. He would simply deny it, and he is far too calculating to be foolish enough to take her there.” Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “Mr. Markham may know of other properties he owns, perhaps somewhere near the docks.”
“What if he takes her out of London?” Helena breathed.
“Do we know for certain that it is Lord Ravenscroft, Helena?” Charlotte asked. “And who is Mr. Markham? I believe he must be someone of importance if you were uncertain whether to send for him.”
Looking at her friend, Helena realized just how much had happened over the past few days that she had not had an opportunity to confide in Charlotte.
“Oh, dear Charlotte. There is much to tell you.” She glanced at Tristan, who gave her a small nod, confirming that she might confide in her friend.
Helena took her place beside Charlotte and relayed all she had learned from Elinor’s writings, her meeting with Mrs. Fenwick, and the meeting with Mr. Pritchard.
“Good heavens...” Charlotte had grown considerably paler.
“Then, yesterday, Lord Ravenscroft found Georgiana in the park while Beatrice was attending to Oliver,” Helena continued.
“He tried to persuade Georgiana to elope, and, feeling desperate to get out of his reach, Georgiana told him that she knew of his doings and that we were seeking justice.” Helena paused.
“She is young, and she does have a temper, but it may have just saved her from him compromising her in public.”
“Every time I thought it could not get worse, it did,” Charlotte exclaimed softly. “And yes, after all that, I believe he is the one who orchestrated her abduction too.”
“Beatrice!” Tristan said suddenly. “She does not know.”
Helena rose quickly. “I will go to her. You should remain in case Nathaniel or Mr. Markham arrives.”
“Ought I take my leave?” Charlotte asked, and Helena thought it was the first time she had ever seen her friend uncertain of what to do.
“No. If it would be possible, would you mind remaining until Mr. Markham arrives? I am sure he would wish to hear from you, and possibly your coachman, about how Georgiana was taken.” Tristan's tone was kind.
“Absolutely,” Charlotte agreed.
“I shall call for some refreshments,” Tristan said.
“I will not be long. I am sure that if Oliver is asleep, Beatrice will join us.” Helena slipped out the door.
Her thoughts raced as she made her way to Beatrice. She wanted to hope for the best for Georgiana, but with Lord Ravenscroft behind her abduction, Helena could think only of the worst.
The thought of another Wycliffe falling into his hands filled her with dread, and she prayed he would not be so brazen as to kill her. Surely, he could not be so foolish. Lord Ravenscroft was in desperate need of money, and murdering Georgiana would bring him nothing.
By the time Helena found Beatrice, she was seated in a chair beside Oliver's bed, a book open in her lap while her son slept peacefully beneath the covers.
Helena pulled her gently from the room, and once they were in the corridor, told her what had happened.
Beatrice's face had gone pale by the time Helena finished.
Helena and Beatrice returned to the parlor together. As they approached, Mr. Blake opened the door for them, and they found Nathaniel and Mr. Markham already inside.
Nathaniel had gone directly to Mr. Markham upon receiving Helena's message from the footman, and had encountered another of the Wycliffe footmen there, who had brought the same summons. The two men had made their way to the house together.
Mr. Markham was speaking to Charlotte as Helena and Beatrice stepped through the door.
“Thank you, Lady Pembroke. Your account has been most helpful.”
He glanced toward Helena and Beatrice tilting his head. “Ladies.”
“Mr. Markham,” Helena replied.
Mr. Markham's gaze then fell upon Mr. Blake, who remained at the door. “Mr. Blake, take me to Lady Pembroke's coachman, if you please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Markham turned toward Tristan as he made his way to the door. “I shall return shortly.”
Tristan nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Markham.”
Mr. Blake was already waiting for him in the corridor, and the two men disappeared, the door closing behind them. Tristan immediately crossed the room and drew Beatrice into his arms.
Helena watched as Beatrice's composure broke, soft cries escaping as she buried her face against Tristan's shoulder. Helena's stomach twisted as she looked at the siblings who had already lost so much.
Soon there was a knock at the door, and a footman entered carrying a silver salver. He crossed the room and approached Tristan, his expression grave. “My Lord, this has just arrived.”
Tristan stepped away from his sister and took the letter from the salver. The moment he saw the handwriting, his face changed. “It is in Georgiana’s hand.”