“She is not.” The woman’s curls danced at her temples when she shook her head. “And she will not be back any time soon. With all these threats of encroaching battles, she has gone to Baltimore to weather the war there with her son.”
“Ah.” Gates nodded and hooked a hand in the pocket of his waistcoat. “A wise decision, from the sound of it. And how is her son? I have not seen him in years.”
Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As much as he appreciated Gates’s smooth handling, of what import was any of this? He needed to ask after the Lanes. After Gwyneth.
The woman’s face went from friendly to merely polite. “Well enough, last I heard. Would you like me to tell her you gentlemen called when she returns?”
“That will not be necessary. We will be making our way to Baltimore ourselves.” He turned back toward the street and then to the neighbor again, as if a new thought just occurred to him. “If I might have one more moment of your time, madam, are you acquainted with the Lanes? Bennet Lane, a professor at St. John’s College, and his wife, Winter?”
Now the woman’s eyes lit up, and her smile returned bright and cheerful. “Of course I am. Everyone is. Oh, but they too are gone to Baltimore to be with Philly and Thad until the college resumes its classes after the war. No point in staying here, they said.”
Arthur’s fingers curled into his palm, but he kept his face from so much as twitching. If only he could keep his heart from sinking so easily.
Gates sighed. “Again, logical if disappointing. Did they have a young lady traveling with them, do you know?”
“A young lady?” Her face went blank. “No, they have had no guests for a year or more.”
The sharp teeth of fear bit down, dug in, threatened to tear away Arthur’s careful control. That the Lanes were gone was no more than a disappointment, one easily dealt with. But Gwyneth was not with them?
Had they been wrong? Had Fairchild not sent her here after all? Or had she arrived after the Lanes left? Which would mean that even now she could be alone somewhere, unguarded but for her aging servants. Where? Here, in Annapolis? Or had she followed them to Baltimore?
Gates was uttering his thanks and leading them back toward the street. His gaze latched hold of Arthur. “What do you think? The day is young yet. Shall we rent horses and head to Baltimore?”
For once Arthur got to look at Gates as if he were the idiot. And he put to voice the facts coalescing into a list in his mind. “No. First we check the inns and rented houses in Annapolis to be sure Gwyneth and the Wesleys did not decide to wait here for her father. Then we find our commanders in the area to ascertain where this action is taking place, where they are marching next, and how we can best stay out of their way and still make the trip in safety. Then, and only then, do we head to Baltimore.”
Gates seemed to ponder that advice for a long moment, and then he nodded and held out a hand toward the Maryland Inn. “Back we go to await the proprietor. We will settle in and afterward begin our search.”
On the night of August 24, pacing the rooftop widow’s walk long after darkness had fallen, her arms wrapped around her middle, Gwyneth figured no one would accuse her of unreasonable insomnia. They were all there with her, keeping watch for familiar figures on the street. Their eyes were all cast toward the southwestern horizon, where the orange glow had grown from a suspicion to a terrible certainty.
Something big was ablaze. And the only thing in that direction that could put up such a glow from this distance was Washington City.
Winter rubbed a hand over Jack’s back, though he had been asleep on her lap for hours now. “I should put him to bed. We should all go to bed. We can help no one by being exhausted come daybreak.”
Yet she made no move to rise from the single chair they had brought up, and no one else acknowledged her statement. Just as they hadn’t the last time she had made it, an hour earlier.
The heat had dulled, but not by much. Even at midnight it hung heavy as a drape over them and thrummed with a sizzle that seemed to denote a storm was on its way. Perhaps if it hurried, it would put out the fire.
“I sure wish they would come home.” Rosie rubbed her hands over her arms as if she were cold. She leaned on the rail next to Gwyneth, her eyes locked on that eerie, flickering orange glow. “Knowing them, they are out there helping folks secure their belongings, never giving any mind to the fact that we all be waiting to hear what happened.”