The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,21

day would be to tell his father that Meg Wynne was missing, and he was absolutely dreading it.

In the final stages of pancreatic cancer, Rhys was so frail, and going downhill so rapidly, that Emyr was afraid of the effect this news would have on his much-loved father. He wondered if he should ask the doctor to be present when he told him, and then decided there wasn’t time.

As he drove up the final stretch to the Hall, he pictured the candlelit scene from the night before. How happy Dad had been, he thought. Everything reminded him so much of the good old days—the women in their evening dresses, the men in black tie, the delicious food so beautifully presented, the way the dining room had been done up. It had been months since Emyr had seen Rhys looking so animated and engaged. The dinner party had done his father so much good and now, just one day later, everything seemed poised to crash and burn.

He parked his car at the back of the Hall and pushed open the door to the back passageway. The familiar slate tiles, the anoraks hanging on hooks with muddy boots lined up beneath them and a jumble of umbrellas jammed into a hideous dog-shaped stand all seemed so familiar and ordinary.

He walked into the kitchen to find Gwennie seated at the table dressed in her day uniform of grey dress with white collar and cuffs, eating a ham and tomato sandwich. His sleepy black Lab rose from her bed by the Aga, stretched, and ambled over to greet him.

“Hey, Trixxi,” he said as he reached under her sporty red and white bandana to ruffle the fur on her neck. “Who’s my good girl, then? No, we’re not going walking. Finish your nap and then someone will take you out.”

Obediently she returned to her bed, turned around in it a couple of times, and with a small sigh, flopped down, and closed her eyes.

“Where is everybody, Gwennie?” he asked.

She looked up at him.

“The boys are in the dining room just starting their lunch and Louise is seeing to your father, Mr. Emyr,” she said. “He’s up in his room, getting ready, I believe. By the way, Trixxi has already been out. Had a good ramble, by the looks of her. I had to pull one or two burrs off her.”

“Right, Gwennie, thanks.”

He opened the kitchen door and entered the long downstairs corridor that would take him to the front hall. When he reached the stairs, he put his hand on the well-worn, well-polished carved banister and swung around it as he had done countless times since he was a child. Slowly he walked up the stairs until he reached the first floor, then headed down the hall toward his father’s room, located at the end of the corridor.

He knocked and then entered.

The room was not only spacious, with the high ceilings of a more gracious era, but it was a corner room, with magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sweep of the driveway at the front of the house on one side, and a matching set of windows giving a spectacular view of the valley on the adjoining side. The room had recently been redecorated and was masculine, functional, and restful in soft beige tones with dark brown accent pieces.

Rhys was seated in the wing chair beside his bed, wearing a comfortable dressing gown and slippers.

“Hello, Emyr,” he smiled. “I’ve had my bath, and I’ll be getting dressed soon. How are you holding up, then? All right?”

Emyr looked at his father’s nurse, who was busy sorting out cuff links.

“Louise, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to leave us for a few moments,” he said.

The woman nodded, set the cuff links on the dresser, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Emyr sat down on the edge of the bed, took his father’s hand in his, and looked at him.

“Dad, I don’t really know how to tell you this, and well, to be honest, I’m not even sure what to tell you, but something has gone wrong, and unfortunately, we don’t even really know what’s happened. But Meg Wynne seems to have gone missing, without saying a word to anyone. She didn’t say anything to me. I haven’t spoken to her since last night. She didn’t call the wedding off, she’s just not here. We can’t find her and we don’t know where she is or what’s going on.”

The old man sighed.

“I’m so sorry,

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