eyes?”
“He told you his name?” Darcy’s hand trembled in her grandmother’s. From head to toe her body surged with both fear and elation. Could it be true? Could it really be him?
“He called me Mother, Darcy. Is that not enough for me to know? And his voice—it was the same, yet older. And yes, he said he was Hayward. As I beheld him, he lifted me gently by my shoulders and spoke. I scarce heard what he was saying, for I was so alarmed. I went to throw my arms about him, but when he heard Burke’s footsteps, he staggered back, and as she entered he slipped out the doors into the dark. He is ill, Darcy. What shall we do?”
“I shall find him.”
“How? Tell me. You cannot go out on the moors at night.”
“Do not worry.”
As if a seam in the clouds had split open, rain beat down on the house. Moments ago the moon had shone. Now a swiftmoving storm overtook it, and the room chilled with the wind flying through Madeline’s terrace doors. The curtains rose as if arms flung them to the ceiling. Darcy hurried to them, shut and latched the doors tight. But before she did, she peered out across the terrace and to the steps that led down to the lawn. Beyond it stood the stable. No one was in sight. But when she moved back, there on the floor were muddy footprints. Her heart swelled in her throat.
“Perhaps he is close by,” said Madeline, growing more desperate. She twisted the edge of her sheet between her aged hands. “He may have found shelter in the stable and is afraid to come back to the house for fear we will not believe him. And he knows what Langbourne would do to him if he did. That is why he came through to my room, and not the front door.”
Darcy moved back to the bedside. “But Langbourne is not here.”
Mrs. Burke returned with the glass of port. As she guided the glass into Madeline’s hand, she spoke calmly to her. “There, there. All shall be well.”
The port moistened Madeline’s lips. “I saw my son, Burke. You believe me, don’t you? Not William. No, it was Hayward.”
“Of course I believe you. Rest now.” And she drew the blankets up closer to Madeline’s chin. Darcy drew her aside and gave her a questioning look.
Mrs. Burke shook her head. “There was no one.”
“But the doors were still open when I came in, and there are muddy footprints on the floor. Go look.”
“The wind, Miss Darcy. The latch has never been too secure. And those prints could be made from the dust on the floor and the rain coming inside.”
Darcy looked back at the doors. She knew Mrs. Burke to be wrong. “Poor Grandmamma.”
“I hear you!” Madeline threw her hands to her face and broke into tears. “You both think I am mad. Or that I was dreaming.”
“A dream perhaps,” Mrs. Burke said. “But not mad.”
Darcy gathered the old woman in her arms to calm her. Madeline’s frail body trembled as if all the emotions of a lifetime had broken forth. She drew back from Darcy. “Go find him, Darcy. He cannot be far.”
Maxwell leapt up from his spot and with a growl scampered out the door. Darcy looked after him as he raced down the hallway to the staircase. Something drew him, alerted him to a presence.
She stepped out into the hallway and took up her candle. Worried that the man who could be her father had gone out into the storm, she hurried down the hallway to the staircase. Downstairs she hastened to don her cloak, slipped on her leather walking shoes, lit a tin lantern from the candlewick, and took from a hook on the wall a flintlock pistol in case she was wrong. With her heart pounding, she drew her hood over her hair, then lifted the bar over the door and pulled it open.
If it is true he is my father, God help me find him. Rain and a hungry wind struck her as she walked out into the torrential night rain.
24
Ahead, Maxwell barked and darted forward. Darcy raised the lantern and watched the dog run to and fro. Frantic, he sniffed the ground, then pricked his sharp ears and growled without showing barred teeth. Darcy moved forward, her shoes sinking into the rainwater pooling in the grass. Rain pelted her face and dripped from her lashes.
Maxwell circled, then sprinted toward the stable, stopped,