Hunter liked Rose and Constance very much and could hardly bear to think of what they had suffered overnight wondering where their beloved Emmeline had gone.
But he could not help thinking that she was perfectly safe, even if he did not like the idea that she was gone. Hunter could only think that she had either thought better of it, realizing that her love for Christopher Lennox was too great for her to entertain the thought of marrying another man, or that she had finally decided that she could not bear to leave Tarlton Manor and had chosen to settle for Kent Fitzgerald instead of him.
In truth, neither of the two scenarios gave him anything other than the gravest disquiet, but he could think of nothing else. Unless, of course, she had been out walking and had met with some misfortune, even been injured and unable to make her way home again. At the very idea, he heeled his horse harder still and cantered ever faster.
“Lord Addison, I cannot thank you enough for coming so soon.” Rose was already waiting on the stone steps of Tarlton Manor House wringing her hands repeatedly.
Her face was so pale and her eyes red from crying that he wanted to put an arm around her shoulders and tell her that everything would be alright. But they were yet to be well enough acquainted for him to behave as a brother-in-law might, assuming that he ever would be her brother-in-law.
“Miss Fitzgerald, I am sure that there is a simple explanation,” he said and hurried into the house behind her.
“At first, I had thought that she must have hurt herself, maybe fallen out in the woods or on one of the pathways. But all of our servants went out before darkness had fallen last night and could see no sign of her.”
“But how far did they search?” Hunter said as he strode into the drawing room to see Constance Fitzgerald, equally red-eyed and drawn, sitting bolt upright in one of the armchairs.
“They searched all of her routes, Sir,” Rose said with certainty. “My sister is a creature of habit, and I know each and every one of her daily walks. And all of them, all of them without fail, have been searched thoroughly, and there is no sign of her.”
“And what of her friends? Might she not have gone visiting and chosen to stay somewhere?” Even as he spoke, Hunter knew it was distinctly unlikely.
“Emmeline does not see friends quite so much anymore, Lord Addison.” Constance Fitzgerald joined the conversation sadly. “I am afraid that she has become a little wary of friendship of late. Since Clara Lovett, you understand.”
“Indeed, I do understand.” He smiled and sat down in the armchair opposite Constance. “And I am sure that Emmeline would never stay away without finding some way to get a message to you. She went on foot, did she not?” He turned to look at Rose.
“Indeed, she did, Sir. All of our horses are still here, and Rose and I had the carriage in town.”
“Miss Fitzgerald, might I ask you outright if you have a theory of your own in your sister’s disappearance?” Hunter said, knowing he was being a little forceful but needing to hear the truth. When she did not answer him immediately, he went on. “Forgive me if my question seems intrusive, but I would beg that you tell me the truth. Is your sister in some regret over our engagement? After all, it cannot have been easy for her to become publicly engaged with Christopher Lennox in attendance.” Hunter hoped that he would not need to elaborate any further. He hoped that Rose would pick up on his meaning without an outright question.
“Are you asking me if my sister is still in love with Christopher Lennox, Sir?” Rose said, phrasing his thoughts perfectly.
“Forgive me, Miss Fitzgerald, but that is precisely my question.” He bowed a little in apology.
“Then you need not make yourself uneasy, Sir. My sister is not in love with Christopher Lennox.” Rose gave him the briefest of smiles, and Hunter felt the greatest sense of relief he had ever felt in his life. “And she has lately confided in me that she now believes that she was never in love with Christopher Lennox. The awful humiliation and gossip notwithstanding, I believe my sister is relieved now that Christopher Lennox chose to marry Clara Lovett.”
“And you are quite sure that?” Hunter said, wanting confirmation even though he knew she spoke the truth.
“I had it from her own lips, Sir. And not only did she tell it to me, but she told it to Clara herself at your engagement ball. She did not do it to be haughty or clever, she genuinely meant it.”
“Might she not have said it to put Mrs Lennox at her ease? Perhaps to assuage that lady’s guilt?”
“No, she did not. Clara asked my sister to forgive her and said that she hoped she would find happiness now. My sister thanked her kindly and told her that she wished her happiness equally, but that she would never forgive her. She told Clara that whilst she had not loved Christopher Lennox, she had loved Clara as the finest friend she had ever known, and it was her betrayal that was the greatest. And so you see, Lord Addison, my sister would not have said such a thing simply to make Clara Lennox feel better. She said it because it was the truth, nothing more nothing less.”
“And so, you do not believe that your sister has fled so that she does not have to marry me?” Hunter said quietly.
“No, no that is not the case. I know that in my heart and can answer you most firmly.”
“Then I can only think of one other thing, Miss Fitzgerald. I can only presume that your sister has chosen to accept the proposal of marriage from your cousin, Kent Fitzgerald. Perhaps she has decided that to leave Tarlton Manor would be so great a wrench that she cannot manage it.”
“Kent Fitzgerald?” Constance gasped and sat so far forward in her seat and so suddenly that Hunter feared she might topple to the floor.
“Forgive me, Mama, but our cousin did show some interest in Emmeline. But it was an interest that she did not return in any way, shape, or form, and she only kept it to herself because she did not want to worry you and have the last weeks here at Tarlton ruined by that dreadful man.”
“But he did propose, did he not?” Hunter went on.
“I do not believe he proposed properly, no,” Rose said calmly. “He made some very obvious attempts to show his interest in my sister, attempts that she was most uncomfortable with. Although he did nothing that she could accuse him of, as she told me, still he made her feel a deep sense of disquiet. He did not propose to her in the ordinary way, Lord Addison, rather he suggested that it would be sensible for her to marry him so that she might save herself and her mother and sister from financial penury in poor lodgings.”
“That dreadful man!” Constance Fitzgerald rose to her feet and began to pace the room, hands firmly on her hips in a more aggressive stance than Hunter could ever have given her credit for.
Still, she was a mother, and their love could be as fierce as it was gentle. He knew that from his own dear mother who would have fought with her fists to the death to protect him if she’d had to.