empty drive for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. He glanced over his shoulder at Fran, who sat knitting on the chair by the fire. “Are you sure she didn’t mention her plans for today to you?”
Fran huffed and gave him a quelling look. “No. I told you, she has likely been held up at the Home. Miss McIntyre’s sisters arrived yesterday and she would be listening to the latest news from them.”
He tapped his fingers on his leg. “She’s never this late. It’ll be dark soon.”
“She’s only at the Home, for goodness sake. Go there and fetch her if it will soothe you.”
“No, I’ll seem overbearing.”
“You are.”
He gave her a lopsided grin and turned away from the window. “I am not overbearing at all. I am a concerned husband.”
She laughed at that. “Be a concerned brother then and pour me a Madeira.”
“What are you trying to knit this time?” He went to the drinks cabinet, poured the drink and handed it to her.
“I need to make five scarves for a family who just lost their father.” She gave him a sarcastic glare. “And I can knit, thank you very much. True, I am not exceptional at it, but I’ll improve with time and practice.”
“You are too good. I hope they appreciate your kindness.” Wandering back to the window, he searched the street. Nicola had never been this late. A gnawing feeling twisted his gut. The door opened and Agnes came through, carrying a basket of logs for the fire. “Agnes, tell cook to hold dinner until Mrs West is home.”
“Yes, sir.” Agnes unloaded the wood and placed a piece on the flames. “Cook was just mentioning the same thing to Timms, sir.”
“Timms?” Nat frowned. “Why is he home? Didn’t he take my wife this morning?”
“Yes, sir, he did. She sent him home.”
Nat stormed from the room and down the hall to the kitchen. Fran called him, but he ignored her. He opened the kitchen door harder than he meant to, startling the cook and Mrs Rawlings. Both bobbed their respect. Timms jerked to his feet from a chair by the door where he’d been polishing his boots.
“Timms, why aren’t you with my wife?”
“She told me to return home, sir. We were caught in a road blockage. She didn’t want to wait and decided to walk.”
“Walk to where?”
“Charlotte Place, sir, to see the printers.”
“And afterwards, do you know of her intentions?”
“To go to the dressmakers and then back to the Home.”
“And she didn’t want you to meet her there?”
“No, sir. She said for me to come back here in case you had need of me. She said she’d catch the omnibus.”
Nat clenched his jaw at her damned independence. “Get the carriage out. We’ll go to the Home and collect her.”
“Yes, sir.” Timms hastily pulled on his boots and after taking his jacket off the hook on the back door, hurried out into the yard.
Nat turned to the housekeeper and cook. “I apologise that the meal may be ruined, Cook.”
“Nay, sir, I’ll sort it out, never fear.” She bobbed her head, her double chin wobbling.
He left the kitchen and met Frances in the hall. “I’ve ordered the carriage.”
“Yes, I thought you might.” She put on her cloak and gloves as Agnes joined them to collect his outdoor clothes for him. “I will laugh at you over this, you know. Such fuss just because she’s a little late.”
“She’s two hours late, Fran.” He took his hat and gloves from Agnes. “If something had held her up, she would have sent word.”
The time it took to travel to the Home served to further tighten his stomach into knots. Nat prayed she was there, yet a part of him knew she wouldn’t be.
In the Home’s parlour he spoke to the women gathered, asking them if they knew the whereabouts of his darling girl.
“I’m sorry, Mr West.” Florence, the only woman standing, twisted her fingers together. “Mrs West left here about eleven o’clock. She was going to the printers. She said she’d be back by three and when she didn’t arrive I assumed she’d gone home.”
He glanced at Frances, and the worry he felt was reflected in her face. “We’ll go to the printers first and see what time she left there.”
Frances stood, nodding. “Thank you, ladies. We’d best be going now.”
“You will let us know when you find her, won’t you?” Florence asked, walking with them to the front door.
“We will.” Frances squeezed her hand.
Putting on his hat, Nat noticed that his