Chapter 20

Frances sat by the window, her eyes red-rimmed and tired from a sleepless night. Every small noise outside the window made her heart leap with hope, only to be crushed when it wasn't the sound of the boys returning home.

She looked out over the sprawling estate grounds, her mind replaying memories of the twins and wondering where they were now.

How had they spent the night? She would tuck them to sleep each night. Who had been there for them the night before?

Her mind only drew blanks.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned as the door opened to see Esther stepping into the room.

Esther's eyes immediately softened with concern as she took in her sister's exhausted and tear-streaked face.

"Frances," she said gently, crossing the room to sit beside her. "How are you holding up?"

At the sight of her sister, Frances felt the fragile dam of her emotions begin to crack. She had tried to stay strong for Christopher, but now the tears she had been holding back began to flow freely.

"Oh, Esther," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what to do. I'm so scared for them."

Esther immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. "Shh, it's alright," she murmured, stroking her hair. "Let it out. I'm here."

Frances clung to her. "They're just children, Esther," she choked out between sobs. "So small and vulnerable. How could someone take them? What if we never see them again?"

Esther pulled back slightly, cupping Frances's face in her hands and looking into her eyes. "You will see them again, Frances. Christopher is doing everything he can to find them, and we will bring them home. I believe it with all my heart."

Frances nodded, though her tears continued to flow. "But my mind is unkind to me because I keep thinking of the most awful things. Esther, please make it stop."

Esther gently wiped the tears from her sister's cheeks. "Don't think like that. We must hold onto hope. The boys are strong, and they know how much you love them. We will find them, Frances."

Frances took a shaky breath. "I'm trying, Esther. But it's so hard. Every moment feels like an eternity."

"I know, and for that, I cannot blame you. If I were in your situation, heavens knows how much of a mess I would have been," Esther said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close again. "But you're not alone. We're all here with you. And you have to believe in Christopher. He won't rest until the boys are back safely."

Frances nodded, feeling a small spark of strength reignite at her sister's words. "Thank you, Esther," she whispered. "I… I needed this. I cannot express this to Christopher, for he needs to be strong."

Esther smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Frances's face. "We're family, Frances. You can be your most vulnerable self around me."

They sat in silence for a few moments, the quiet ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. Frances leaned her head on Esther's shoulder, drawing comfort from her steady presence.

"Even Theodosia has been so sick with worry. She did not sleep well at all last night."

Frances felt a pang of guilt in her chest. "Oh, I never intended for that to happen."

"You should not feel poorly about it. It is only natural, as she loves the twins as well."

"I just want this nightmare to end." Frances buried her face in her hands.

Her situation was hopeless, and now she could only hope for a miracle.

* * *

Christopher was in his study, poring over maps and reports from the search parties, his mind consumed with finding Ernest and Edwin. His sleep has been fitful, his eyes bloodshot and weary.

But he was not going to give up.

A soft knock on the study door interrupted his thoughts. The door opened, and his butler stepped in, his expression unusually grave.

"Your Grace, the Dowager Duchess is here," he announced, his voice carefully neutral.

Christopher's head snapped up, a frown darkening his features. "My mother?" he asked, surprised. "What is she doing here?"

He had told her to never return again the last time he had seen her.

The butler hesitated, sensing the tension in the air. "She insists on speaking with you, Your Grace. I informed her of the situation, but she was… insistent."

Christopher's eyes narrowed, a cold anger settling over him. "Tell her to leave," he ordered curtly. "I have nothing to say to her."

Before the butler could respond, Frances appeared in the doorway, her face pale but resolute. "Wait," she said softly, stepping into the study. "I want to speak with her."

Christopher turned to her. "Frances, why would you want to speak to her? She has no place here, especially now. I do not believe she will have anything kind to say, especially when she did not care when Peter died either."

Frances took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. "I have a feeling she might know something. We need every bit of information we can get, and she might hold a piece of the puzzle."

Christopher stared at her, shock evident on his face. "You think she knows something about the twins?"

Frances nodded. "It's possible. She's always been involved in matters of the estate, and she might have heard something. We can't afford to overlook any possibility."

Christopher's jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was to allow his mother into their home, especially after the harm she had caused. But Frances's logic was undeniable. They needed every possible lead.

He took a deep breath, then turned to the butler. "Very well. Escort her to the drawing room. We'll speak with her there."

The butler nodded and left the room, his footsteps echoing softly down the hall.

Christopher turned back to Frances. "Are you sure about this? She can be… difficult. You have not seen the worst of her yet."

Frances reached out, taking his hand in hers. "I'm sure. We need to explore every option, and if she knows something that can help us find the boys, we have to hear it."

Christopher squeezed her hand. "Alright," he said quietly. "But you cannot be alone with her. I will be with you."

Frances nodded, a small smile touching her lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Let us go see what she has to say."

* * *

The drawing room felt colder than usual as they entered, the morning light casting long shadows over the room. The air was thick with tension, and Frances could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She steeled herself, determined to keep her composure.

Especially in front of her mother-in-law.

The Dowager Duchess was already seated in one of the chairs, her back rigid. She looked up as they entered, her light brown eyes narrowing slightly.

"Christopher," she said, her voice clipped. "I heard about the… unfortunate situation. I thought it was time we had a conversation."

Christopher's face hardened. "Mother, I don't have time for pleasantries. If you have something useful to say, get to it."

Teresa's gaze flicked to Frances, a faint sneer on her lips. "And I see your wife is here as well. How charming."

"Please, this is not a moment to be cruel or judgemental," Frances interjected firmly. "If you know something about what happened to the twins, we need to hear it."

Teresa's eyes flashed with irritation, but she quickly masked it with a cool smile. "You think I know something about their disappearance?"

"I suppose you might. Why else would you come here? If there's anything you can tell us, any information at all, it could help us find them."

Teresa leaned back in her chair, studying Frances with a calculating gaze. "I see you're not as naive as you look," she said slowly. "Very well. I might have heard something. But why should I help you?"

Christopher's fists clenched at his sides, but Frances placed a calming hand on his arm before he could respond more harshly.

"Because they're your grandsons," she pointed out softly. "And because you owe it to them to help bring them home."

For a moment, Teresa's expression softened, a flicker of something almost like regret crossing her features. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by her usual hard expression.

"I received a letter," she revealed finally, her voice cold and detached. "A few days ago. It was anonymous, but it hinted at trouble within the estate. I dismissed it at the time, but now…" She paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Christopher. "I thought you should know."

Christopher's eyes blazed. "You received a letter warning of trouble and you did nothing? You could have prevented this!"

Teresa's expression remained impassive. "I had no reason to believe it was credible. Anonymous letters are often nothing more than gossip."

Frances stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation.

If what the Dowager Duchess was saying held any truth, then they needed to handle the matter with great care.

"What did the letter say? Anything specific?"

Teresa glanced at her, then looked away, her fingers tightening on the armrests of her chair. "It mentioned something about the twins… and a man who might try to take them. But it was vague, and I didn't see any immediate danger."

Christopher took a step forward, full of rage. He was not as diplomatic as Frances was, and it showed.

"And you didn't think to warn us? To give us a chance to protect them?"

Teresa stood up, her own anger flaring. "I didn't think it was serious! And frankly, if you had been paying better attention, this wouldn't have happened."

The room fell silent, the accusation hanging heavily in the air.

"Enough," Frances said firmly, stepping between them. "We can't change what's happened. We need to focus on finding the twins." She turned to Teresa, her voice softening slightly. "Is there anything else? Any detail you might have overlooked?"

Teresa hesitated, then shook her head. "No, that's all I know. The letter didn't provide any more information."

Frances nodded, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the puzzle. "Thank you for telling us. We'll take it from here."

Teresa's expression hardened again, but she nodded curtly. "Very well. I hope you find them," she uttered, though her tone was far from sincere.

As Teresa turned to leave, Christopher took a deep breath, his anger slowly giving way to a renewed sense of determination. "We will find them," he said quietly, his voice filled with resolve.

Frances watched Teresa leave and then turned to Christopher, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear.

Teresa did not waste a moment longer in the estate and left immediately. Her visit, however, left them with more questions than answers.

Christopher had not uttered a single word. He seemed to be beating himself up still, his guilt likely worsened by the Dowager Duchess's accusations. But Frances knew that they had to discuss the matter.

She turned to him, her eyes searching his face. "Do you believe her?" she asked quietly. "You know her better than I do. Do you think she's telling the truth about the letter?"

Christopher exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the door through which his mother had just exited.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low. "My mother has always been manipulative. She thrives on control and deceit. But…" He paused, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "But it does seem plausible. An anonymous letter warning of trouble… it fits what happened. And it's just like her to dismiss something that doesn't immediately affect her."

Frances nodded, trying to understand his feelings. "She could be lying," she said softly, "or exaggerating to cover her tracks. But what if she's not? What if she genuinely didn't think it was important?"

Christopher looked at her, his eyes flashing with frustration. "I can't say for certain. She's lied so many times before. But dismissing this letter seems almost too careless, even for her. Especially if it was about her own grandsons."

Frances sighed, rubbing her temples. "If she knew something more and chose not to act, then it's unforgivable. But we have to consider every possibility. What did the letter say exactly?"

Christopher joined her, sitting on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped together. "She said it mentioned a man who might try to take the twins. But she didn't give any specifics. It was vague, and she claimed she didn't see it as a credible threat."

Frances frowned. "Why would someone send an anonymous warning? And why to her? It doesn't make sense."

Christopher shook his head. "I don't know. But we can't ignore it. If there's even a chance that the letter holds a clue, we need to find out more."

Frances looked at him, a spark of determination flickering in her eyes. "Do you think she still has it? The letter?"

"It's possible. She tends to keep anything she thinks might be useful later. We could send someone to her residence to look for it."

Frances nodded, feeling a surge of hope. "If we can get our hands on that letter, maybe we can find something she overlooked. Even a small detail could lead us to the boys."

Christopher's expression hardened with resolve. "I'll send a trusted servant to retrieve it. We can't let any potential lead slip through our fingers."

He stood up, reaching for the bell to summon the butler, but then he paused to look at Frances. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude, "for thinking clearly, for being strong. I don't know what I would do without you."

Frances rose and moved to his side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "We're in this together, remember?" she said, her voice firm yet tender.

All they had at this moment was each other, and it was important that they stuck together.

A few moments later, the butler entered the room, bowing slightly. "Your Grace, how may I assist you?"

Christopher turned to him with a serious expression. There was no room for doubt that he meant business.

"I need you to go to my mother's estate immediately. She mentioned receiving a letter a few days ago—an anonymous warning. I want you to find that letter and bring it back here. Be discreet. It's crucial that we get it without causing alarm."

The butler nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll leave at once."

As he left to carry out his orders, Frances and Christopher exchanged a hopeful glance.

"Maybe he will find something useful?"

"Or maybe not," Christopher muttered.

"But even so, the authorities are now involved too. This has become a high-importance case. Whoever has taken them must know by now that we are in relentless pursuit."

Christopher nodded. Her words seemed to have calmed him down, if only slightly.

The afternoon turned into evening, the household filled with tense anticipation as they awaited the butler's return.

As dusk began to fall, the sound of hurried footsteps approached the drawing room. The butler finally entered, his expression grave but determined. In his hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper.

Both Christopher and Frances stood up immediately.

"What is it? You must tell us at once."

"Your Grace," he said, handing the letter to Christopher, "I found it in the Dowager Duchess's study, just as you suspected. It seems she had tucked it away without much thought."

Christopher took the letter, his hands trembling slightly as he unfolded it. Frances moved to his side, reading over his shoulder as he smoothed out the paper.

The letter was written in a hurried, scrawling hand, the words almost frantic in their urgency.

Christopher read aloud, his voice steady but strained.

To the Dowager Duchess,

There is danger surrounding your grandsons. Beware of the man who seeks them, for he has sinister intentions. Protect them, or else they may be lost forever. He watches and waits, and soon he will strike. Do not take this lightly.

A concerned observer.

What did that even mean? Frances did not know what to make of it immediately, and it seemed that Christopher was of the same opinion. They read the letter again, together.

Frances' heart pounded as she listened to it again, her mind racing with the implications.

"It's vague," she murmured, "but it's clear enough that someone knew there was a threat. Someone was watching."

Christopher's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Why didn't she take this seriously? The intent here is obvious. Why didn't she warn us?"

Frances placed a comforting hand on his arm. "We can't change her actions, but we can use this. The letter mentions someone watching and waiting. Maybe someone in town saw something. We need to question everyone who might have been near the park or the estate."

Christopher nodded, his resolve hardening. "We'll do that."

It wasn't much, but it was a start. They had a direction, a lead to follow.

They were still poring over the letter when the doors to the drawing room burst open. It was Sally, the maid. She looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown, her face pale and tear-streaked.

"I cannot hold it in anymore. I must tell you everything that I know."