Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,78
you where she was going, but you know.”
“Of course, I don’t,” the girl protested. “But if I were you, I would heed her letter, which told you not to worry and that she has gone somewhere safe.”
“Kitty,” her father said sternly, “if you know something…”
“I do!” the girl exclaimed. “I know that you are all responsible for this, blaming her for something that you must have known she had not done and was not responsible for and then hounding her to make sickening reparations that drove her to this!”
Everyone regarded Lady Kitty open-mouthed, from which Barden gathered that such outbursts were not common.
Only her brother’s expression was admiring. “Well said, Kit,” he approved.
“Perhaps,” Lady Cosland said sternly. “But now is not the time for lectures. Your sister is endangering herself, and it is imperative we know where she went. You must see this damages her, makes everything worse for her, for all of us.”
“I see she had no other choice,” Lady Kitty muttered. “Though she said nothing to Ferdy or to me.”
“But you suspect.” The countess actually rose and went to her daughter, taking both her hands. “I hoped to discover myself without forcing you to betray your sister’s confidence. But that time has passed. You are not helping her, Kitty. Don’t be responsible for this further ruin. If you have any idea where she might have gone, you have to say.”
Her brother sighed. “I think you do, Kit. She’s punished them enough.”
Barden held his breath while the siblings exchanged pained looks, and the mother didn’t take her eyes off her daughter. Cosland looked as if he were about to explode, and for once, Barden knew exactly how he felt.
Kitty closed her eyes. “I don’t know this. But I think she has come to regard Daniel Stewart as the only friend who would not let her down. I think she would turn to him for help. And it would be the one place you would never even think to look for her. I think she has gone to Myerly.”
Several seconds of silence passed, much to Barden’s bewilderment.
“Who the devil is Daniel Stewart?” he demanded.
The earl dropped his head in his hands. “How could she do this to me?” he whispered.
“This is not about you, Cosland,” his wife said coldly. “It is about our daughter. Who is at least safe under a respectable neighbor’s roof, with adequate chaperones. We will not barge in there to fetch her tonight. That would only cause the kind of talk we have been trying to avoid. Tomorrow, we shall call on Lord Myerly and his family, and we will bring our daughter home.”
Relief flooded Barden. All would be well. Perhaps it was all a little more rushed than he had planned, but tomorrow Juliet Lilbourne would become his bride, and his fortune would be restored to him.
Chapter Nineteen
Juliet struggled up from a deep sleep, wondering in panic where she was. She could hear whispering voices, footsteps shuffling and running downstairs. For a moment, she couldn’t work out why such sounds would be so close, and then she remembered. She was at Myerly, and her bedchamber was right beside the stairs.
But it was too dark for the servants to be up and about already, and from somewhere, she could hear moaning and wails of pain.
Abruptly, she sat up and lit the candle on the bedside table before throwing off the bedclothes. She seized a shawl, threw it around her shoulders, then picked up the candle and hurried to the door.
One of the elderly footmen was vanishing across the hall downstairs in the direction of the kitchen. Betty was climbing laboriously to the floor above with a cup and bottle in one hand and a large bowl in the other.
“Betty? What is happening?” Juliet demanded.
“Oh, it’s Susan, my lady. She’s been taken very bad, very bad indeed.”
Juliet left her chamber and ran upstairs after the maid.
“It’s her stomach, my lady,” Betty revealed. “Pains like you wouldn’t believe, and sicker than a dog…”
“Oh, dear! And what is this?” Juliet took the cup and bottle from her.
“Lady Myerly’s recipe for stomach medicine,” Betty said. “Can’t do any harm.”
By candlelight, the liquid was such an evil color that Juliet had severe doubts about it. How long had Lady Myerly been dead?
On the attic stairs, lurked Griffin in his nightgown, holding up a branch of candles to light the way.
“Pardon, my lady,” he said anxiously. “Did we wake you?”
“No, well yes, but I would like to help if I can.”