Authors: Jo Goodman
It was dusk when she came upon the manor. The sun was slipping behind a hill in the distance and the stone absorbed the pale pink color that trimmed the horizon. The driver helped Elizabeth alight from the carriage and unloaded her trunk, but he waited only long enough to make certain she was invited into the house. He did not know there was a possibility she might not remain there.
Her interview with Lord Worth came to the point very quickly. She introduced herself and offered such particulars as to affirm her identity. Once that was established to his satisfaction she asked simply for sanctuary.
He appeared to like her choice of the word. Safety. Solitude. Refuge and protection. He invited her into his conservatory and asked her if this was what she had in mind. She had only to breathe the air, redolent with fecund soil and tropical flowers, and knew that for this time at least there was no other place so suited to her needs.
Now it was one day short of a fortnight and Elizabeth no longer thought it odd that she and Lord Worth got on so well. His care of her vacillated between badgering and coddling. He always seemed to know which she required. Occasionally he lectured but learned that she was immune, having already heard some version of his favorite discourses from North.
For her part, Elizabeth showed a real interest in his passion for growing things. Her questions, her genuine curiosity, endeared her to Cecil Worth as nothing else could have. She appreciated his reminiscences, listening with pleasure to the stories from his own youth but even more gladly to those that were about North. Lord Worth's memories of Hambrick Hall were most telling about himself and his grandson, and Elizabeth began to understand how the bonds of friendships made in those days could endure for a lifetime.
* * *
North sat with his friends in his Merrifeld Square home. It was more correct that they sat and he stood. They exchanged concerned glances when he turned his back on them and continued pacing toward the window. None of them knew how he was still upright. He looked as if he had not slept since Elizabeth disappeared.
In spite of their long abiding friendship, or perhaps because of it, almost a week had passed before North asked the Compass Club for help. By that time he had already learned that Elizabeth was not at Rosemont and that there was no one there with any expectation of seeing her. Neither had she remained in London with his mother or the colonel.
Each time he had to approach someone and raise the question of Elizabeth's whereabouts he was initially met with puzzlement. When they realized he was in earnest, their confusion gave way to apprehension and eventually to fear. He was left to calm their worries when he felt nothing so much as sorrow himself.
Rosemont had been scathing in his opinion of North for not taking his wife in hand, but nothing he said cut so deeply as the things North said to himself. Isabel's sympathy was much more difficult to accept. The look she graced him with was at once understanding and helpless. He came to the slow realization that no matter what she knew, he could depend on no aid from her, that even if he found Elizabeth, she could already be lost to him in ways that could not be changed.
Elizabeth's brother had charged after North as he was leaving Rosemont, calling after him in his high-pitched, youthful voice and finally catching him on the bridge. Out of breath, excited, Selden was nonetheless able to make himself understood. "You will find her, my lord," Adam had said, part command, part hopeful question. "She is the best of all sisters and you must find her." There was nothing for it but for North to promise that he would.
Southerton leaned forward in his chair and rested his chin on his folded hands. He raised one brow as North pivoted at the window and began walking toward his friends again. "What do you hear from Battenburn and his wife?"
"Louise was here a few hours ago," North said. His steps slowed, then halted. "Didn't I tell you that?"
South, East, and West shook their heads in unison. They were careful not to look at each other.
North rubbed his brow. "I thought I told you."
Without a word, the Marquess of Eastlyn rose from his chair and rang for the butler. "Coffee," he said succinctly.
West invited North to sit beside him on the divan. "You have exhausted yourself, North. You can no longer be certain of the day or time."
It was very nearly the truth, North thought. Trust his friends to point out what he would not admit. He did not think he could sit, however, and chose to rest his hip on the corner of his desk.
South looked up at him. "Lady Battenburn," he prompted. "What did she want?"
"Yes," North said, more to himself than to the others. "Yes, Louise." He came out of his reverie and spoke more strongly. "You all know I could not approach Lady Battenburn. I believed that if Elizabeth had indeed gone to her, the baroness would have denied it."
"Probably taken some delight in it," South said as an aside.
North managed a meager smile."No doubt. She is protective of Elizabeth. I believe she approved of the marriage, but I think she does not like having Elizabeth away from her side. Perhaps it would be more fair to say that she would not encourage my wife to return to me."
"Well," Eastlyn said, "it is a point of no account. I have made a study of the baroness's London residence and she and her husband have no guests. Elizabeth is certainly not there."
"And I've been back to Battenburn," South said. "In fact, the chill of the journey still permeates my clothes. Elizabeth is not there."
Eastlyn heard the approach of the butler and opened the door. He took the tray, gave the door a push closed with the heel of his boot, and carried the coffee to the desk."How could you know, South?" he asked, pouring a generous cup for North. "The place has a history of hiding the most disreputable characters, and I suspect our dear Lady North could not be found there if she wished it so."
Southerton waved Eastlyn's question aside. "I know because of my acquaintance with a certain chambermaid."
"My, you are a deep one," East said dryly. "Did you know about the chambermaid, North?"
Northam shook his head. He held his cup between his palms and raised it to his lips. It was hot, almost scalding, but precisely what he required to center his thoughts. "Louise came to confront me about Elizabeth's whereabouts."
One of West's brows lifted in a perfect arch. "Then Elizabeth has not corresponded with Lady Battenburn?"
"Apparently that is so," said North. "I confess, it surprises me. Louise was agitated that Elizabeth left London without a word to her. She does not believe that Elizabeth is at Rosemont, which is what I told her."
South accepted coffee from Eastlyn and leaned back in his chair. "Called you a liar, did she?"
"I
am
a liar."
"Well, yes. But she need not have called you one."
"She was not quite so direct as that, but she made her point." North paused, recalling the unpleasant meeting with the baroness. "The odd thing was that she was more upset with Elizabeth than with me."
Eastlyn considered that, nodding slowly. "That is odd. Women like to rally around this sort of thing. Blame all of Adam's descendants for biting the apple. Never mention tempting us. Never mention how miserable they would have made our lives if we hadn't bitten."
Southerton rolled his eyes. "Trouble with Sophie," he announced to the others. "We take your point, East."
"I hope so," East said. "Because something is havey-cavey, I tell you. Your mother blamed you, didn't she, North?"
"I don't know that I would characterize it as blame," he said carefully.
East snorted. "We all know your mother. She is very fond of Lady North and would not think twice about assigning responsibility for her departure to you. Doesn't make sense that Lady Battenburn would do otherwise. Bloody hell, North, we're your friends and
we
think you must have done something to chase her off."
North's short laugh was without humor. "And you would be right," he said after a moment. "All of you."
The Compass Club fell silent for a time, each member's pensive features reflected back in those of a friend.
South's cup and saucer clattered as he set them down. "Coffee's fine for bringing North around," he said to no one in particular, "but tea leaves are what's called for now."
They all stared at him.
"Tea leaves," South repeated. "Fortune-telling, you know." He sighed. "A poor attempt to lighten our mood. Forgive me."
What they did, though, was congratulate him. No matter that it pained them to admit it, there were times when South was bloody brilliant.
* * *
Flakes of snow melted on the conservatory's glass dome, but just inches beyond the bank of windows they began to accumulate on the frozen ground. Elizabeth sat on a wooden bench a few feet from the windows, watching the full moon turn each dancing, twirling flake into a pinpoint of light. Outside, on this crisp December evening, it was as if all of heaven's stars were falling to Earth.
Elizabeth adjusted her fine woolen shawl around her shoulders and loosely tied the tails at the level of her breasts. Beside her on the bench was an unopened drawing pad, charcoal, and a lamp she had blown out in favor of watching nature's ever-changing tapestry.
She sat very still in the moonshine, her complexion as coolly colored as marble, her lashes tipped by blue-silver light, the centers of her eyes wide as she took in as much as was possible of the glittered, frozen landscape.
Elizabeth did not turn when she heard the doors to the conservatory open. It was not unusual for Lord Worth to sit with her here in the evening before they retired. She anticipated his familiar step, distinctive because of the cane that inserted a tap between the placement of his right and left foot. What she heard instead was a step also well known to her: steady, strong, and confident. The back of her neck prickled with alarm and she felt her shoulders and spine stiffen.
Elizabeth's eyes changed their focus from the exterior landscape to the vague reflection in the windows. She could just make out his ethereal outline in the glass. She could almost believe she was imagining him behind her. It would not be the first time.
Elizabeth stood and turned to face him slowly, glad that she had blown out the lamp, glad there was nothing but moonshine to highlight his features or hers. Her eyes drank him in. "My lord," she said quietly.
"My lady."
There was silence. Neither of them moved.
Elizabeth took in a ragged little breath and said, "So you have found the Gentleman Thief."
Of all things she might have greeted him with, North had not been prepared for this. "Why do you think so?"
"Because you are here."
"Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "I am here for you. I haven't given a thought to the thief since you disappeared."
She smiled faintly. "Truly?" It was less a question than a subtle mockery.
"Truly." North's fingers raked his thick hair. "I do not want to talk about the thief, Elizabeth."
Neither did she. Not now. She made a small nod. "Does your grandfather know you're here?"
"Yes. He called me a great fool for taking so long to find you."
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
"And an ass for letting you leave in the first place."
Her mouth parted in surprise.
"I told him he was right." A glimmer of a smile lifted one corner of North's mouth. "I have found that agreeing with my grandfather is the shortest route to reconciliation. In this case, however, I agreed because he was right. In these last weeks I have called myself much worse than a fool and an ass. Grandfather's assessment of my character was most complimentary."
"North."
"I should not have demanded that you leave, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth said nothing for a moment, searching out the right words to follow this overture. "I am sorry for many things," she said finally. "But not for leaving you when I did or as I did. I needed to be gone, North, and you needed me to be gone. You said as much."
He fought the urge to close the distance between them. "But to leave no word..." His hands lifted in a helpless gesture before they fell slowly to his sides. "You agreed to go to Rosemont."
"I know." She glanced down at the floor. "I could not."
"I went there," he told her. "I knew from the manner of your leaving that it was unlikely that I would find you, but I went to Rosemont anyway. I went to the colonel and my mother. I even went to Hampton Cross. I followed your trail to the inn where you spent your first night away from Merrifeld Square. No one could tell me where you had gone after that. You had quite disappeared." North's throat closed. He swallowed hard and kept going; his voice rasped with emotion. "I thought you had gone to him, you see. I thought that's what I had done. Pushed you away from me and sent you flying to him."
Elizabeth's head came up slowly. "Him?"
"The man you allowed to give you a child."
Her knees actually wobbled. She put a hand out to steady herself, but her fingers only closed over a fistful of air. She dropped to the bench like a stone. "I'm sorry," she said. The words were given hardly any sound. "I'm sorry. I am so very sorry."