Chapter 22
Tobias threw the schoolroom door open so hard it struck the wall, the sound cutting through the room and making all three inside jump.
Julian’s slate slipped from his hands and hit the floor.
Amabel startled in her chair, her pencil rolling across the desk before dropping to the boards.
Mrs. Bracknell looked up sharply from her work, her expression tightening as she rose halfway from her seat.
He took in the room quickly, noting the scattered pencils and the children’s startled expressions.
The disruption he had caused registered with him, and he wished he had entered with more restraint.
Yet the urgency that had driven him here left no room for apology.
He forced himself to focus on the children, knowing they mattered most at this moment.
He stepped inside, his breath still uneven from the pace he had kept down the corridor. “I wanted to speak with you both,” he said, directing the words toward the children.
He took another step, then stopped.
Amabel’s cheeks were streaked with dried tears, the marks clear even in the dimmer afternoon light. Julian’s eyes were red around the edges, his jaw set tight.
Neither child spoke, but neither looked away.
Tobias’s posture shifted, the urgency that had carried him into the room giving way to concern.
He lowered his voice. “You have been crying.”
Julian blinked hard, and Amabel looked down at her hands.
Tobias gestured to them. “Come here,” he said, his voice gentle.
Julian and Amabel exchanged a quick glance. Julian pushed his chair back first, and Amabel followed, standing with a tiny, uncertain movement. They stepped away from their desks, approaching him with slow, hesitant steps.
When they reached him, Tobias guided them a little closer and knelt so he was level with them. His hands rested gently on their arms.
“Why have you been crying?”
Julian’s breath caught. “We … we did not…” The words thinned before he could finish.
Amabel twisted her fingers together. “We do not know if we should say.”
Tobias steadied her hand. “It is all right,” he said quietly. “You can tell me.”
Julian tried again, his voice unsteady. “We … we saw …”
Tobias nodded once, patient and calm. “It is all right. Tell me what you know.”
Julian swallowed. “We saw Miss Marwood leaving.”
Amabel nodded, her lip trembling. “She walked down the drive with her sister. They both had their bags with them. A coach was waiting at the end of the lane.”
She paused, swallowing hard. “She climbed inside right away.”
“The driver shut the door before anyone could say anything. They set off down the road, and she never turned around,” Julian said.
Amabel’s fingers tightened together. “She did not look back.”
Julian shook his head. “She didn’t look back, but I don’t think she wanted to go. She looked like she wasn’t sure. She was walking slowly and even stopped a couple of times. I can’t imagine she would leave us on purpose.”
Amabel wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Please bring her back, Uncle. Please find her and bring her back to us.”
Their distress assured him that he was doing the right thing in going after her. He could see how much they cared for her, and he didn’t want them to lose another person they loved. Not if he could try to stop it.
Their trust in her was unmistakable, and it reminded him of how deeply she had shaped their days. He felt a quiet regret that he had not protected that bond more carefully.
“I will do what I can,” he said, looking them each in the eye.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Julian said softly.
“Thank you,” Amabel echoed, her voice quiet.
He told them a quick goodbye as he turned and left the schoolroom, the door swinging shut behind him. Stepping into the hallway, he found Weatherby waiting just outside the schoolroom door.
“Make sure the carriage is ready,” Tobias said. “We leave as soon as possible.”
Weatherby straightened. “Where will we go, My Lord?”
“We start with the carriage yard,” Tobias said. “If she meant to go home, that is where they would have gone first.”
Weatherby nodded slowly, thinking it through.
Tobias watched him, grateful for the man’s calm presence.
Weatherby had always been able to assess a situation quickly, and Tobias relied on that now more than ever.
He felt the pressure of time pressing against him, but he forced himself to remain focused. Panic would only slow him down.
“Miss Rosamund had taken a week’s leave from her position so she could stay here with Miss Marwood,” Weatherby said. “They would have had time to return home.”
Tobias gave a short, firm nod. “Then the carriage yard.”
Weatherby hurried down the corridor.
Tobias turned the opposite way, hurrying through the house. He stopped only long enough to give brief instructions to the footmen and to collect what he needed. The minutes felt too long, each one a reminder that Miss Marwood was getting farther from him.
He swept through the house with a sense of urgency he could not disguise, gathering what he needed quickly and refusing to let hesitation take hold.
Tobias stepped outside at last, crossing the gravel with long strides. The carriage stood waiting near the front steps, the horses restless and ready. He reached for the door.
Before he could open it, Viola stepped out from behind the carriage, blocking his path. She had clearly been waiting. Her hand was already on the door handle, her posture composed but tense. Her eyes traveled over his face, searching for something he had not yet said.
“You are leaving,” she said. “Are you going to check on the accident?”
“I have already been out to the mine,” Tobias replied. “There is nothing I can do at the moment.”
Viola’s gaze sharpened. “Then where are you going?”
He hesitated. It was brief, but it was enough.
“If you are not going to the mine,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “you are going after her.”
He met Viola’s gaze without flinching. Her certainty irritated him, but he refused to let her see the depth of his frustration. He had no patience for her interference, not now. He did not answer.
“You cannot leave,” she said. “Your duty is to your estate first. You should not waste your time chasing down a wayward employee.”
Tobias met her gaze, his hand still on the carriage door. “Know your place,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “And let me be.”
He opened the door fully and stepped inside. “Drive,” he told the coachman as he climbed in, Weatherby behind him.
The horses surged forward. The estate fell behind them, the road stretching ahead. He did not know exactly where she had gone, but he would find her.
He looked up at Weatherby. “Do you know the name of the village where Miss Marwood lived?”
Weatherby shook his head. “I have been trying to remember it, My Lord, but I cannot. I do know it is to the south.”
Tobias gave a short nod. “That gives us a good place to start.”
He sat back, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. Weatherby sat opposite him, his hands folded, waiting. They rode in silence for a while, the only sound the steady clatter of the horses and the faint rattle of the windows.
A full minute passed before Tobias looked up again.
“Someone is moving against me,” he said.
He spoke the words quietly, aware of how significant they were. He had tried to dismiss the thought earlier, but the evidence had become too clear to ignore. He watched Weatherby’s expression shift, knowing the man understood the gravity of what he was saying.
Weatherby’s eyes lifted. “My Lord?”
“The mine was not an accident.” Tobias kept his voice low, steady. “You know this. I do, too. It was deliberate. Someone is trying to break this estate apart piece by piece.”
Weatherby leaned forward slightly. “You are certain.”
“Yes.” Tobias’s jaw tightened. “Someone does not want me to succeed. Someone wants me to fail and the estate to crumble.”
The carriage hit a rough patch in the road. Tobias braced a hand against the seat, then let it fall again.
“I have had enough,” he said. “I will not sit by while someone destroys what I have worked for.”
Tobias sat rigidly as the carriage pushed on, the wheels catching every rut in the busy road.
They had barely cleared the estate gates before the traffic slowed to a crawl.
Wagons, riders, and laborers filled the lane, all heading toward or away from the mine.
The horses could do little more than walk.
For a long moment, neither he nor Weatherby spoke. The noise outside filled the silence in the carriage.
Tobias finally exhaled. “I am going to fix this,” he said. “All of it. Miss Marwood. The mine. Whoever is working against me.”
The carriage edged forward another few feet, then slowed again. Tobias’s jaw tightened. He tapped his fingers once against his knee, the only sign of his frustration.
Weatherby shifted. “It is difficult to see the road ahead with all this traffic. We are being significantly delayed.”
“I know,” Tobias said. “And I do not care. I will reach her.”
The carriage finally cleared the worst of the congestion and picked up a little speed. Tobias looked ahead, the road stretching toward the village.
The carriage rolled at a steady pace, but Tobias leaned forward as if he could force it faster. When they reached the coach yard, he stepped out before the wheels had fully stopped.
He crossed the yard in quick strides. “The mail coach to the southern road,” he said to the guard. “Has it departed?”
The guard nodded. “It left not ten minutes ago, My Lord.”
Tobias’s chest tightened. Ten minutes might as well have been an hour. He looked down the road, but there was nothing to see except dust and the distant shapes of carts heading toward the mine.
He ran back to the carriage and called up to the driver. “Take the southern road. As fast as you can.”
He turned to Weatherby as he climbed in. “The mail coach has already gone, but they had to head that way. Keep trying to remember the name of her village.”
Weatherby nodded. “Yes, My Lord. I will.”
The carriage could barely move, and Tobias pressed a hand against the window frame. “We are losing time.”
Weatherby looked out at the crowd. “We may not get through.”
Tobias sat back as the carriage lurched forward and then paused again. The longer they crawled forward, the more frustrated he felt.
I cannot sit here and do nothing. I have wasted enough time already. If there is even a chance of reaching her, I have to take it.
He opened the door, jumped out of the carriage, and ran up to the team.
The driver called after him, startled by the sudden movement, but Tobias did not slow.
He reached the horses, unbuckled the traces, and pulled one of them free.
The animal tossed its head at the noise and confusion, hooves shifting against the ground, breath coming fast.
“My Lord, what are you doing?” the driver said, hurrying toward him, hands half-raised as if unsure whether to intervene.
Tobias kept working, pulling the last strap loose. “I need this horse now.”
Weatherby reached them a moment later, slightly out of breath. “My Lord, at least take a saddle. You will not keep your seat without one.”
“There is no time,” Tobias said, gripping the horse’s mane to steady it as it sidestepped. “Every moment we stand here is another moment lost.”
Weatherby hesitated, clearly wanting to argue but knowing better. “Then at least be careful, My Lord.”
Tobias gave a short nod, already preparing to mount. He swung himself up in one motion. The horse shifted beneath him, waiting for direction.
Weatherby stepped back. “We will follow as soon as we can.”
Tobias tightened his legs and sent the horse forward. The horse surged into the road, its muscles bunching beneath him as it broke into a hard run.
Lord, I know I do not deserve her, but please let me reach her. Let me put this right.
Villagers stepped aside quickly, startled by the sight of him riding bareback through the crowded street. Tobias guided the horse with pressure from his knees, weaving between carts and riders until the village thinned and the road opened ahead.
I am so sorry you felt you had to leave. I am so sorry I did not prevent any of this from happening.
He pushed the horse faster, the wind stinging his eyes as the rhythm of the hooves steadied into a hard, driving pace.
I have been so foolish. But no longer.
He kept his gaze fixed on the road, searching for any sign of the coach.
I will reach you. I must.
At last, the shape of the mail coach appeared in the distance, its wheels kicking up dust as it traveled steadily along the lane.
Hold on. I am coming.
Tobias urged the horse forward again, the gap closing as the coach grew larger and clearer.
Just a little farther.
He drew level with the coach, then pushed ahead of it, guiding the horse across the road to block its path.
This is the only way.
The driver hauled on the reins. The coach lurched and came to a stop.