Chapter 21

"Sally?" Frances sat up quickly, concern etched on her features. "What's wrong?"

Sally hesitated on the threshold, her hands wringing the fabric of her apron. "I can't… I will never forgive myself," she stammered out, her voice breaking. "I know what happened to the twins."

Christopher sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Where are they?"

Sally took a shaky breath, her eyes filled with remorse. "The Dowager Duchess… she took them," she confessed, her words tumbling out in a rush. "She wanted to take them away to force you to have an heir of your own. She sent me here to keep an eye on the children and ensure they were raised according to her standards."

Frances gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "What?"

Christopher's expression darkened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He rose to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Where are they?" he asked again, his voice low and menacing.

Sally took a step back, fear flashing in her eyes, but she forced herself to continue. "She took them to an old estate she owns, far from here. She plans to send them away to an orphanage soon. For my silence, she paid me a hefty sum. But now that I see how much all of this is impacting you, I couldn't let her do it. Not after seeing how much you both care for them."

Christopher's breath came in ragged gasps, his rage barely contained. He took a step towards her, his voice trembling with fury. "You knew all along and did nothing?"

Sally flinched, her tears flowing freely now. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping an eye on them for the Dowager Duchess. But then I saw how happy they were here, how much you love them. I couldn't stand by and let her take them away."

Christopher was so full of anger that he was turning red in the face. Frances knew she had to de-escalate the situation, as blinding rage was not the answer.. It would only make matters worse than they already were.

Frances quickly placed herself between Christopher and Sally. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Christopher, please, we need her help to find the boys. She's trying to do the right thing now."

Christopher's fists unclenched, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to rein in his anger. "Where is this estate?" he asked, his voice still hard but more controlled.

Sally nodded, grateful for Frances's intervention. "It's called Blackwood Hall. It's about an hour's ride from here, to the north. The Dowager Duchess has been using it as a retreat, away from the main estate."

Christopher turned to Frances, his eyes blazing with anger still. "We need to leave now. We can't let her send them away."

Frances nodded, her heart pounding with urgency. "Go. I'll gather what we need."

Christopher turned on his heel, striding towards the door with purpose. "Prepare the horses," he called to a nearby servant. "We leave immediately."

As he left to make preparations, Frances turned back to Sally, who stood trembling in the doorway.

"Why did you do this, Sally?" she asked gently, her voice soft with compassion. "Why did you wait until now to tell us?"

Sally wiped her eyes, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. "I've worked for the Dowager Duchess for so long. At first, I believed she was right to keep an eye on the children. But then I saw how happy they were here, how much love surrounded them. I wanted to leave her employ, but she threatened me. Said she would ruin me if I betrayed her."

She was trembling with fear.

"You do realize that by doing this, you have been an accomplice to a kidnapping? Do you understand how serious that is?"

Sally nodded. "I know that if I had to keep myself without blame, I should not have said anything. But… my moral compass did not allow me to keep it in any longer."

Frances reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've done the right thing now," she said softly. "You've helped us when we needed it most."

And then she paused. It was moments like this that showed the true character of a person, and Frances had always been soft-hearted.

What Sally did was not right, but she had come clean. That had to mean something.

"We'll protect you from her. I promise."

Sally looked at Frances, shocked. "Do you really mean that?"

"I do not wish to be a tyrant, like the Dowager Duchess. It does not mean that you are forgiven, but you will not be punished by the law, at the very least."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Sally whispered. "But there's something else you need to know."

Frances frowned.

More bad news?

"What is it?"

Sally took a deep breath, steadying herself. "The Dowager Duchess… she mentioned something about Peter. About the accident. She said it wasn't… it wasn't entirely accidental. She wanted to get rid of Lydia. Peter wasn't supposed to be there."

Frances felt a cold chill run down her spine. "She… planned it?"

Sally nodded, her tears spilling over again. "Yes. She didn't mean for Peter to be hurt, but she wanted to separate him from Lydia. It went wrong, and he died with her. She's been trying to cover it up ever since."

"Oh my God…"

It was even worse than Frances had anticipated.

Just then, Christopher re-entered the room, his face set with grim determination. "The carriage is ready," he announced. "We leave now."

Frances turned to him, her face pale but resolute. He noticed the change in her expression.

"What happened?" he asked and then turned to look at Sally with an accusatory expression. "Did you do this?"

Frances stopped him. "Sally, can you leave us alone for a moment?"

The maid scurried off, muttering a string of apologies as she did.

Now that they were alone, Frances finally turned to Christopher. She was not sure how to break the news to him but realized that it was important that she did.

"There's more, Christopher. Sally just told me… the Dowager Duchess planned the accident that killed Peter and Lydia."

Christopher froze, his eyes widening in shock. "What?"

"She wanted to separate them. It was supposed to just be Lydia, but Peter was with her. He wasn't supposed to die."

A maelstrom of emotions crossed Christopher's face—shock, anger, grief.

He clenched his fists, struggling to process the revelation. "That… that's why she took the boys," he said slowly, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "She's trying to control their future, just like she tried to control Peter's."

"We can't let her get away with this. We'll find the boys and bring them home. And we'll make sure she answers for what she's done."

"I will make sure that my mother is held accountable for this. She thinks that she is above everyone because she has always gotten away with everything. This time, I will make sure that justice is served correctly."

* * *

The carriage was moving fast, and the duo sat in the back in anxious anticipation. It seemed like the journey to Blackwood Hall was interminable.

Christopher was still in shock at what he had learned. He knew his mother was a conniving woman, but even he had never expected her to stoop this low.

The night air was cold and crisp as they rode through the darkened countryside, the horses' hooves pounding relentlessly against the gravel path leading to Blackwood Hall.

"How will you confront her?"

Christopher steeled himself. "What can I do except demand the truth from her?"

He saw Frances's gaze soften immediately, and she reached out to grab his hand.

"I am sorry, Christopher. You deserved a mother who looked out for you."

He let himself relax into her touch. Even though he disliked it when people were sorry for him, it felt different with her.

He did not feel that her words held any kind of pity. If anything, she was full of understanding.

"No use dwelling on what is not under my control," he admitted. "But I know that I made the right choice by marrying you."

He saw her expression shift, and then her searching gaze turned to him for confirmation.

"It was a risk that we both took," she noted.

"But going through this entire ordeal with you"—he leaned back into his seat—"has been very enlightening. You have exceeded my expectations for what I could have ever wanted in a spouse."

Frances was blushing now. Which felt out of place, given the gravity of their situation. But he could not help but notice just how endearing it was. In fact, he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.

"I feel the same way," she murmured.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, about to slip out. He surprised himself even, because for the first time, it was clear to him.

He was in love with Frances. There was no denying it.

But there was no time to think of his feelings now. The carriage rolled to a halt, signifying their arrival at Blackwood Hall.

Christopher leaped out of the carriage. "Let me go in first."

Their moment together had passed, and now they had more important things to accomplish.

The door swung open before he could knock, and a nervous-looking servant stood there, wide-eyed and pale.

"Where is she?" His tone made it clear that he meant business.

"Y-Your Grace," the servant stammered out, stepping aside hastily. "Her Grace is in the drawing room."

Christopher didn't bother with a response. He brushed past the servant and made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

Frances trailed behind him somewhere. He would have waited for her if the task was not so urgent.

He pushed open the door to the drawing room with a force that sent it crashing against the wall.

The Dowager Duchess was sitting calmly by the fireplace, a delicate porcelain teacup in her hand. She looked up with a composed smile that only served to infuriate him further.

"Christopher," she greeted, her tone infuriatingly serene. "What brings you here at this hour? I thought you had promised me that you would never show your face here again."

Christopher took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "Where are they?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Where are my nephews?"

Teresa's smile never wavered, though a flicker of something—perhaps surprise—crossed her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied smoothly. "You seem upset. Perhaps we should discuss this calmly."

"Calmly?" Christopher's voice rose. "You took them! You had them kidnapped, and you planned to send them away to an orphanage. Don't lie to me, Mother. Sally told us everything."

Teresa's expression hardened, her mask of composure slipping slightly.

"Sally?" she repeated, her voice cold. "So she's turned on me, has she? That ungrateful wench. She owes me whatever she has."

Christopher resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

How typical of his mother. She always thought that she could buy loyalty and her way into people's hearts. She had never had someone be sincere to her.

Christopher stepped closer to her, his eyes dark with rage. "Tell me where they are," he demanded again, his voice trembling with the effort to keep his composure. "Or I swear I'll—" He broke off, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his pistol, his hand steady but his eyes filled with fury. "You will tell me where they are, or else you'll regret it."

Teresa's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed as she regained her composure. "You're just like your father," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "Always so dramatic, so ready to resort to violence."

Christopher's grip tightened on the pistol, his knuckles turning white. "Don't you dare compare me to him," he growled. "You've done enough damage to this family. Now, where are the boys?"

"Do you really expect me to believe that you are capable of using…" Her eyes flicked to the pistol, fear flashing in them. "That?"

Christopher raised the pistol even higher. "Do not test me. For my nephews and to avenge Peter, I will do anything I need."

"I am your mother."

"You lost the right to call yourself that a long time ago. As far as I am concerned, you are no less than a stranger at best and an enemy at worst."

She reeled back at his words. He had never before been so crass with her, as he had held back due to some misplaced notion of respect.

Not anymore. She had crossed all lines. Why should he care about how she feels in the slightest?

Teresa stood up slowly, her eyes flashing with disdain. "You think you're so clever, don't you? But you're just a fool, like Peter. Always making decisions with your heart instead of your head."

Christopher's face twisted with rage. "You… you're responsible for his death, aren't you? The accident that killed Peter and Lydia—it wasn't an accident at all."

She fell silent, and he took it as an opportunity to double down.

"Sally, your trusted confidante, told us everything. I pity you, actually. No one has stood beside you. Must be a miserable existence, living alone like this."

He wanted to hurt her for all the damage she had caused to his family. But she did not seem to show remorse. Quite the opposite.

Her lips curled into a twisted smile. "You finally figured it out," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Yes, I planned it. I wanted to rid us of that maid, Lydia. She was a blight on our family, a disgrace. Peter was supposed to uphold our name, not drag it through the mud for a servant."

Christopher felt the ground shift beneath him. Even though he had been told by Sally beforehand, he had held out a small morsel of hope that perhaps it was not the complete truth.

But there was no denying it now. His own mother had admitted it.

"You… you killed them," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief and horror. "Peter wasn't supposed to be there, was he?"

Teresa's smile faltered, but her eyes remained cold and unyielding. "No, he wasn't," she admitted. "But he refused to leave her side. He was always too weak, too sentimental. It was supposed to set him free, to bring him back to his senses. But he died with her, and all my plans were ruined."

Christopher staggered back.

His mother, the woman who had birthed him, had orchestrated the deaths of his brother and Lydia. And now she had taken his nephews, driven by the same twisted need for control.

"You'll pay for this," he hissed. "You'll pay for everything."

Teresa's eyes narrowed, her voice filled with cold resolve. "You can't prove anything. And you won't find the boys. They'll be gone before you can reach them."

Christopher's rage flared again, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the door. "We'll see about that," he said, his voice a low growl. "You're coming with me."

"Unhand me, Christopher! You have no right?—"

"I have every right," he snapped, dragging her through the hallways towards the entrance. "You will tell me where they are, and you will face justice for what you've done."

As they reached the entrance hall, the large doors swung open, and Frances rushed in, her face pale but determined. Behind her were several constables, their expressions grim and resolute.

"Christopher!" she called out, her voice filled with urgency. "They're here, the constables. They will take care of this."

Christopher turned to her, relief washing over him. "Thank God," he breathed, his grip on Teresa's arm tightening. "She has confessed. She's responsible for Peter and Lydia's deaths. And she took the boys."

Frances' eyes widened with shock and horror, but she quickly composed herself, stepping forward to stand beside him. "Take her," she said to the constables. "She's a danger to everyone."

The constables moved forward, taking Teresa from Christopher's grasp. She struggled against their hold.

"You can't do this," she hissed. "I am the Dowager Duchess. I will not be treated like a common criminal."

"You've brought this on yourself," Christopher said coldly, watching as the constables restrained her. "You will answer for your crimes."

As the constables led her away, Teresa cast a final, venomous look at Christopher and Frances.

"You're all fools," she spat. "This family is doomed, and you'll see it fall apart before your eyes."

Christopher's expression was hard, but he didn't respond. He watched until she was out of sight, then turned to Frances.

"Thank you," he said quietly, pulling her into a tight embrace. "This would not have been possible without you."

Frances clung to him. "We are not done yet. There is still something we must do."

The constables had begun to search the premises. One of them called out from the top of the stairs, "I believe we have found the room she was keeping the children in."

Christopher's heart felt like it would leap out of his throat. He and Frances shared a look, before they bolted upstairs.

The constable, a burly man with a sympathetic expression, stepped aside, gesturing towards a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. "Through here," he said, his voice softening. "We heard voices inside."

Christopher reached out and grasped the door handle, his hand trembling. He paused, looking back at Frances, who nodded encouragingly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Drawing a deep breath, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

"Ernest! Edwin!" Frances cried out, her voice breaking with relief and joy.

The boys looked up, their faces pale and streaked with tears, but their eyes brightened with recognition and hope as they saw Christopher and Frances.

"Aunt Frances! Uncle Christopher!" they shouted, their voices trembling with emotion.

In an instant, Frances rushed forward, dropping to her knees and enveloping the boys in a tight, protective embrace. Edwin buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing with relief, while Ernest clung to her, his small body shaking.

"We've got you," Frances whispered, her voice choked with tears. "You're safe now. You're coming home."

Ernest pulled back slightly, looking up at Christopher with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Are you really here? Are we really going home?"

Christopher nodded, his own eyes shining with tears he didn't try to hide. "Yes, my brave boy. We're taking you home. You're safe now."

Edwin lifted his head from Frances' shoulder, his expression a mix of confusion and relief. "Where's Grandmother? Is she going to come back?"

Frances and Christopher exchanged a quick glance.

"No, Edwin," Christopher said gently, stroking his nephew's hair. "She won't hurt you again. The constables have taken her away. She can't come near you anymore."

Frances kissed the top of Edwin's head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this," she murmured. "But we're here now, and we'll never let anything like this happen again. You're safe with us, always."

The constable, who was standing quietly at the door, cleared his throat gently. "Shall we head back?" he asked, his tone respectful and understanding. "There is some paperwork I would need you to sign."

Christopher nodded, rising to his feet and lifting Edwin into his arms. "Yes, let's go home," he said.

Frances stood up, taking Ernest's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "Ready, love?" she asked, her voice soft and full of warmth.

Ernest nodded, his grip firm and steady. "Ready."

* * *

When they arrived at the estate, Frances refused to leave the children's side. Having them back felt like a blessing, and she was never going to take them for granted.

The twins, now more comfortable and at ease, were seated beside her on a cushioned sofa.

Frances had planned this conversation carefully in her head. She wanted to ensure that the boys felt safe and loved, especially after the trauma of their abduction.

It was important to her that they understood how deeply they were cherished and that they would always have a home with her and Christopher.

"Edwin, Ernest," she began gently, her voice soothing and filled with affection. "I wanted to talk to you both about everything that's happened and about our family."

Edwin looked up at her with wide eyes. "Are we in trouble?" he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly.

Frances's heart ached at the fear in his voice. She reached out and took both their hands in hers, giving them reassuring squeezes.

"No, my loves, you're not in trouble," she said softly. "I want you to know that you're safe now. You're home, and nothing will ever change that."

Ernest tilted his head. "But what about Grandmother? Why did she take us away?"

Frances sighed, choosing her words carefully. "Your grandmother… she made some very bad decisions. She thought she was doing what was best, but she hurt a lot of people, including you. She's going to have to answer for what she did, and she won't be able to hurt you again."

Edwin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why did she want to send us away? Don't we belong here?"

"Yes, Edwin, you belong here. This is your home, and you're part of our family. Christopher and I love you very much, and we're so glad you're here with us."

Ernest seemed to consider this for a moment before speaking again.

At that moment, Christopher entered the room. He immediately realized that Frances was relaying something serious, and he stood beside her without uttering a single word. It was his way of showing his support.

"Grandmother said that we will not be important to you once you have your own children," Ernest admitted. "Will you have a baby?"

Frances blinked, surprised by the suddenness of the question. She exchanged a quick glance with Christopher, feeling a surge of panic.

"It's something we might want in the future," Christopher interjected. "But no matter what happens, you two are our first priority. You're our family, and that will never change."

Edwin seemed to relax a little, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I think I'd like a baby brother or sister," he said shyly. "But only if they can play with us."

Christopher chuckled. "Well, any baby would have to wait a while before they can play as much as you do. But they would be very lucky to have you as big brothers."

"We'd teach them everything! Like how to climb trees and where to find the best hiding spots," Ernest chimed in.

"I have no doubt you'd be wonderful teachers," Christopher said, his voice filled with pride. "And you'd have a lot of fun together."

Frances reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The most important thing is that we're all together," she added softly. "We're a family, and we'll always take care of each other."

She had not fully processed what Christopher had just said. Did they not already discuss that they would not bring any children into the world?

Had Christopher somehow changed his mind? Or was he only saying that to make the twins feel better?

No matter how curious she was, she knew that this was not the right time to bring something like that up. Especially in front of the children, who were too young to understand matters such as this.

"I'm glad we're here with you and Uncle," Edwin said quietly. "You make us feel safe."

Frances felt tears prick her eyes. She hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head. "We're so glad you're here too, Edwin. You and Ernest make our family complete."

Ernest quickly joined the embrace, his cheek pressed against Frances's arm. "We love you," he murmured earnestly.

Christopher wrapped his arms around all of them. "And we love you both, more than words can say. You're our family, now and always."

They sat there for a long moment, enveloped in each other's warmth.

It was a moment that Frances would never forget.