Chapter Twenty-Seven
The dower house was set in a secluded corner of the Richcliffe estate and, as the carriage wheels crunched over the gravel drive, Will could not help but stare out of the window in admiration.
It was a neat stone building, the edges softened and obscured by climbing ivy, the front garden an explosion of colour with the last blooms of roses in neat beds.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Will wondered if he might be finally drawing close after all his searching.
After his visit to his sister’s grave and his realisation that he had made the biggest mistake of his life, he had rushed back to London, eager to find Amelie and apologise.
Whilst on horseback, he had rehearsed the speech he would give her, the apology she deserved and how best to phrase the request that she forgive him and consider a life with him.
That had been three weeks ago and he still had not given the speech to her.
He’d searched everywhere: returning to the slums to see if the children were back with Mrs Creedy; visiting the Fleet prison to enquire if Amelie had visited her father.
Even Mrs Potter had helped—asking discreetly amongst her acquaintances whether anyone had hired a new housemaid.
Nothing had worked. There had been no trace of Amelie.
It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth.
Will had not given up, compiling a list of all the areas in London with cheap rooms to rent and visiting them systematically, asking questions of the locals to try to locate her.
Last week he had even travelled to Tenterden in Kent, where Amelie’s family home had once been, thinking perhaps she had returned to ask for help from her childhood friends. No one had seen her.
Despair had turned to desperation and, just as he had run out of places to search, he had received a letter.
A couple of weeks earlier, when he had first returned to London, he had written to Lady Elizabeth Dreardon, thanking her for taking the time to visit him in Grantchester but telling her circumstances had changed and that he could not go through with her suggestion of how they might live their lives, connected but very much separate.
Almost three weeks had passed before he’d received a reply, short and to the point, as he would expect from Lady Elizabeth. It was the second line that caught his attention and made him shout for his valet to start packing:
I am grateful for your note, but I had assumed this was to be the case, given Amelie is now in Dorset without you.
Will had left the same afternoon, breaking his journey at various coaching inns, getting impatient when it took too long to swap over the horses. Amelie had been in Dorset some time in the last few weeks, but she might not be planning to stay there. Every second counted.
Now he had arrived at Lady Elizabeth’s residence, he wanted to leap from the still moving carriage and pound on the door, demanding the information he needed, but he managed to restrain himself.
The door to the dower house was opened by a smartly turned-out footman who led him into an empty drawing room, then withdrawing to find Lady Elizabeth. Will did not sit, preferring to pace backwards and forwards, finding the movement at least a little helpful for his agitation.
It was Miss Flint who entered first, smiling gently at him and welcoming him into their home. She indicated he should take a seat in one of the comfortable arm chairs and sat across from him, then a moment later they were joined by Lady Elizabeth.
‘This is a surprise, Your Grace,’ Lady Elizabeth said as she walked into the room, speaking with her characteristic directness.
‘Please excuse the intrusion. I am here on a matter of some urgency that I did not think I could entrust to a letter.’
‘How intriguing,’ Lady Elizabeth said, making herself comfortable next to Miss Flint. ‘What can we help you with?’
‘I was hoping you might know the whereabouts of Amelie. I have been searching for her for the past few weeks and have been growing increasingly worried when I could not find her.’
‘I mentioned in my letter she was here in Dorset,’ Lady Elizabeth said, nodding.
‘I did not know she had any connections in the county.’
‘She does not, or at least she didn’t,’ Miss Flint said. ‘When we came to visit you in Grantchester, I gave Amelie our address in case she was ever in need.’
This made Will pause. ‘It was you she came to Dorset to see?’
‘Yes.’ Miss Flint glanced over at Lady Elizabeth. ‘I could see she was in some distress and I was aware of the precarious nature of her situation. I too have been friendless at my lowest point and I did not want her to feel she had nowhere to turn.’
‘That was very kind of you, my dear,’ Lady Elizabeth said. ‘It was quite a shock when she turned up on our doorstep with three children in tow, although they were clearly too old to be hers.’
‘She is guardian to her younger sisters and brother,’ Will said absently, wanting to get back to the important information.
‘Yes, she told us her story—tragic and shocking in equal measure—then she asked for out assistance.’
‘She came here for help?’
‘And we were happy to give it,’ Miss Flint said quietly but firmly.
‘Amelie is an extraordinary young woman who has survived so much in her young life so far. She could not be in London because of the scandal attached to her name, and I got the impression she did not want to return to where she was originally from because of how her neighbours had treated her family in the past.’
Will felt devastated at the idea that Amelie had been so alone, so overwhelmed by circumstance, that she had felt the need to reach out to a kindly stranger for help.
‘I knew of a wealthy family with five children who were in want of a music teacher nearby. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for her.’
‘Did she get the position?’
‘She did. She is employed in Berkhall, a village about four miles north of here.’
A wave of relief passed through him. As the days of his search had turned to weeks, he had experienced increasing desperation, but also fear for her safety. Now at least he knew she was settled somewhere with a roof over her head.
‘Does she live with this family?’
‘No. I believe she has rented a small place in the village. There is even talk of the children attending the local school. The vicar’s wife runs it from the rectory.’
Will sat back in his chair. He was glad she was safe and had found somewhere where decent people wanted to help her.
It was not what he had been expecting and he felt a wave of relief.
He needed to apologise, and alongside that he was going to ask her to forgive him, to see if she might think she could build a life with him.
He did not want to imagine his life if she said no, but at least if so Amelie would have a comfortable place in the world.
‘I will give you her address,’ Miss Flint said, rising and heading over to the little writing desk in the corner of the room.
‘I know you are eager to see her, Your Grace, but can I urge discretion? She is using her mother’s name so she is not linked with the scandalous rumours that drove her out of London, but people are quick to make connections. ’
‘I will be discreet,’ he said.
Whilst Miss Flint wrote down the address, Lady Elizabeth fixed him with an unflinching stare.
‘Can I give you a piece of advice, Your Grace?’
‘Please do.’
‘Do not approach this thinking you are here to save her. Amelie is an extraordinarily resilient young woman who has extricated herself out of a mess of your making and found a way to rebuild her life. I do not know what passed between you, but I can make a guess that she wanted more than to be your mistress. She may stick to that decision and, if she does, let her have her peace.’
‘I am not here to ruin her life,’ he said quietly.
‘Please give Amelie my regards. I planned to call on her at the week’s end, but perhaps I will wait to hear the outcome of your visit,’ Miss Flint said.
‘Thank you.’
He stood, eager to be on his way. He meant to travel on to Berkhall immediately, but he would heed Lady Elizabeth’s and Miss Flint’s words about not barrelling in and exposing Amelie’s real identity.
He would wait for her to return home and then request they go somewhere private for their talk.
The last thing he wanted to do was cause her more heartbreak and difficulty.
‘You will need a horse,’ Lady Elizabeth said, standing and crossing over to ring for a servant. ‘We have plenty in the stables who would be glad of the exercise. Our grooms will ensure your horses are rubbed down after their journey and fed and rested.’
‘I am in your debt,’ Will said, thankful for Lady Elizabeth’s offer. The journey would be quicker on horseback than in the carriage and now he had finally found Amelie he did not want to delay a moment longer before seeing her.