“If you did, I was already asleep.”
The dresser rubbed her forehead. “I meant to, but I think I forgot… I was so tired… But I was hoping I had left them here, for I have run out of other ideas.”
“Other ideas about what?”
“Where her ladyship’s emeralds are.”
“The ones she was wearing last night?”
“She took them off herself, and I can’t recall putting them away,” Cranston said miserably. “They are not where they should be, not even in his lordship’s chamber, nor in mine. My last hope was that I had them in my possession when I came to help you and perhaps laid them down here.”
“Oh, dear. Is her ladyship very upset?”
“I think she is. They were a gift from his lordship.”
“Surely they will turn up,” Helen said encouragingly. “And I’m sure her ladyship does not blame you.”
Cranston grimaced. “Perhaps not, but others will.”
“I’ll help you look when I can,” Helen offered.
“Thank you, Miss.”
It seemed to be a day of missing items, for not very much later, as Helen accompanied the children to their mother’s chamber, they encountered Philip Marshall on the landing, interrogating two maids, one of whom was saying, “No, sir, I swear I haven’t seen her.”
For no obvious reason, a sense of foreboding seeped under Helen’s skin. Philip caught sight of them, and at once abandoned the maids, who scuttled off in relief.
“Helen, have you seen my stepdaughter this morning?” he demanded.
“No, but I have only this moment left my own chamber.”
He turned his frowning gaze on the children. “Perhaps she has been with you. I know she has taken a liking to you.”
The curl to his lip left no one in any doubt of his disapproval, indeed his entire incomprehension of such a liking. The children shook their heads.
“Perhaps when you were fetching my breakfast?” Helen prompted the twins, for Philip seemed genuinely troubled by Anne’s absence. But they only shook their heads again. “I suppose you have looked in the breakfast parlor? But she has probably just gone for a walk, you know.”
“Yes, but Helen, her bed does not look as if it was slept in,” Philip said grimly. “Her mother is beside herself.”
“I’m sure she will appear at any moment, but I’ll help you look for her.” Not, she thought, as they continued toward Lady Overton’s chamber, that Anne would necessarily thank her for being found. All the same, something nagged at the back of her mind. So much so, that having left the children with their mother, she asked if she might be excused for a few minutes and hurried out of the house toward the stables.
Since she had not waited to fetch any outer garments, the icy wind seemed to whip straight through her. One of the grooms, brushing a fine black stallion, paused in his work to come and greet her.
“What can I do for you, Miss?”
“Has anyone been out riding so far today?” she asked.
“Oh, much too early, Miss. Everyone sleeps late after the ball.”
“I’m aware. But you haven’t actually answered me.”
He knew her position as well as his own, and he only looked at her stolidly, saying nothing. Her stomach tensed, not because of his insolence but with fear for Anne.
“Show me Captain,” she said, naming the quiet horse she had begun riding on the castle expedition and had then exchanged to Anne.
His eyelids flickered, and she knew she was right. Still, he said nothing until she marched determinedly toward the stable door.
“You’re right, Miss. Captain’s gone with the young lady, but she asked me not to say.”
“Was she alone?”
He nodded miserably.
“When?” Helen demanded.
“’Bout seven o’clock this morning.”
Helen drew in her breath, trying to think, to plan. “There’s to be no gossip about this,” she said severely. “And you had better pray for the young lady’s safety!”
With that, she marched back toward the house.
Anne had had enough. Pursued and nagged beyond bearing, she had bolted. Helen did not believe there was any young man involved, but she did not underestimate the dangers to a naïve young girl traveling alone. And even if she survived that, there was her reputation to consider.
Do you ever feel like running away, Miss Milsom? Anne had asked her. Where would you run to?
To the Hart Inn, Helen had replied. Could Anne have taken that to mean it was safe there for a young lady traveling alone? Once she got there, Helen did not doubt the Villins would look after her, but that would not prevent the ruin of her reputation should it ever come out that she was staying there without a chaperone, that she had charged alone across the country to get there.
Helen sped up the steps to the house and went straight to Lady Overton’s chamber, where the children were entertaining their mother.
“I have been wondering, ma’am, will Audley Park House be staffed again by now?” she asked bluntly.
“Oh, yes,” replied Lady Overton. “The servants only had four days off to see their families before Christmas. Everything will be back to normal now.”
“Then I was wondering if I might take the children back today? Eliza’s lessons are sadly neglected here.”
“Of course,” Lady Overton said in her vague way. “If you think that is best. We will return in a day or two anyhow.”
“Thank you,” Helen said, ignoring the glares of the children. She hesitated over the subject of Anne, but in the end said nothing. It would come better from Henrietta, whom she hunted down in the breakfast parlor.
On request, Henrietta left the room with her, looking intrigued.
“I’m taking the children back to Audley Park,” she said bluntly. “Just as soon as I can get them in the carriage. But I want to ask you…could you give out that Miss Marshall is accompanying us?”
Henrietta blinked. “Is she?”
“No, she has already left—run away, I believe, but I think I know where she has gone. If I’m wrong, I’ll send out a hue and cry from the Hart.”
Henrietta frowned. “Miss Milsom, the girl’s parents are here. It is not your responsibility…”
“But it is,” Helen interrupted. “We were talking last night, and I think I might have made it sound…acceptable for her to do this. To be frank, her parents have pushed her too far. If you could somehow make them believe, without saying so, that I have found her and taken her with us…”
“How the devil do you expect me to do that? And what if you are wrong?”
Those words still rang in Helen’s ears as she threw her meager possessions—plus Lady Verne’s ballgown—into her bag. She had just raised her head, intending to speed on the children’s efforts, when movement outside caught her attention.
A smart curricle drawn by a pair of perfectly matched chestnuts pulled up by the front door. She had seen that particular equipage before. A gentleman—Sir Marcus Dain—leaped down the front steps and took the ribbons from the groom. As he drove off, she saw his valet in the seat beside him. He was leaving.
Her heart seemed to crumble. He had wanted to talk to her today, and her foolish hopes had led her to imagine… Imagine what? That this growing friendship between them was some kind of courtship? The friendship itself was something she valued beyond words. And yet, he left Steynings without a word to her.