Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Edward felt like the most worthless man in all the world. He had tried to sleep the previous night, but just as he’d thought, wretches like him didn’t deserve rest. Even before dawn, he’d gotten up and retreated to his study, the space usually a sanctity of order and clarity. Now, it was simply a testament to the chaos that had taken control of his life.

Books and papers were scattered haphazardly across his writing table. The leather-bound volume stood before him, but the words seemed to be written in some illegible language that his brain didn’t understand. In fact, his brain didn’t understand anything other than the fact that Vivianne was not there.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, inhaling deeply. He couldn’t forget the look on Vivianne’s face, then Reginald’s smug grin. He regretted now not planting him a facer he would never forget, but it had been more important to find Vivianne at that moment. Now, both had eluded him.

However, it was not too late. He would simply go to her home and ask to speak with her. He had no idea how that would turn out. He didn’t know what she had shared with her family, and whether they would even allow him to see her. Despite all those harrowing questions, he had to try.

If it hadn’t been for Reginald and Catherine, he wouldn’t even be in this situation. He would still have Vivianne by his side, warming his heart.

In an outburst of frustration, Edward’s composure shattered. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. With a fierce motion, he swept his arm across the desk, sending papers, ink pots, and inkwells crashing to the floor.

The clutter of his desk tumbled in a chaotic cascade, scattering across the room. Books fell open, their pages fluttering as they hit the ground. A heavy brass inkwell shattered into pieces, its contents splattering across the carpet.

As the sound of the crash echoed through the study. Edward stood amid the wreckage, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The fury of the moment had left him trembling, a raw edge of anger and helplessness coursing through him. He glared at the mess without any intention of doing anything about it.

A sharp knock on the door pierced Edward’s mind.

“Go away!” he snapped.

Still, the door creaked open, and Jonathon stepped inside, his eyes widening in shock at the sight of the disarray. He took in the scattered papers, broken ink pots, and the overturned chair with a look of concern.

“So, you’ve heard?” he asked. He moved cautiously into the room, navigating the mess. His gaze settled on Edward, who was slumped in his chair.

“Heard what?” Edward asked.

Jonathon’s face grew more serious as he stared at him. “Edward… Vivianne is missing.”

Edward’s heart sank further at Jonathon’s words. The realization hit him like a physical blow, and he struggled to keep his composure. “What do you mean, missing?” His voice faltered, the implications of Jonathon’s statement crashing over him.

“I went to see Aurelia this morning, and I saw the commotion in their home,” Jonathon explained. “She told me that they all arrived home safe and sound. She even left Vivianne in her bedchamber for the night. But when they woke up this morning, Vivianne’s room was empty. She was nowhere to be found.”

Edward couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did anyone see her leave the house? Were any unusual activities reported?”

Jonathon seemed to hesitate. There was obviously something he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how. Edward walked around the writing table that separated them to stand before his friend.

“John, if there’s anything you know about Vivianne’s disappearance, tell me. Please.”

Jonathon lifted his gaze to meet Edward’s. There was deep sorrow in his eyes, and a flicker of something else. Confusion? Disbelief? Edward couldn’t quite place it.

“What is it?” he asked, becoming impatient. “You are scaring me.”

Silently, Jonathon extracted a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket. He gave it to Edward, without any explanation. Edward took it, devouring the contents. His eyes widened in shock as he shook his head.

“I didn’t write this, John,” he said defensively. “I really didn’t.”

“I know.” Jonathon nodded. “That is what I told Aurelia when she showed it to me.”

“She’s seen it?” Edward gasped.

Jonathon nodded. “She was the first one to enter Vivianne’s bedchamber this morning. She knocked several times, and when she didn’t get any response, she let herself in. She told me that the window was open and there was a stone on the floor, along with this crumpled message.”

“Did someone climb up to her window?” Edward asked, his mind a blur of fear, rage, and a million other emotions.

He knew it was a possibility; he had done it himself already. But he wisely kept it to himself.

Jonathon shrugged. “It is possible. No one knows.”

“Does Aurelia think I am behind this?” Edward had to ask.

“No,” Jonathon assured him. “The note confused her, but I told her it isn’t your handwriting. Of course, she believed me, but like everyone else, she is out of her mind with worry.”

“I can imagine.” Edward nodded. “I was thinking of going to her this morning, to explain everything… We have to find her, Jonathon.”

“But where do we even start?” Jonathon asked.

Edward stared at him resolutely. “Grab your coat, old boy. I know where exactly to start.”

***

Vivianne awoke with a throbbing headache, the kind that seemed to pulse with every heartbeat. As her senses slowly returned, she found she was lying on a soft, comfortable bed. The fabric of the bed linens was plush, but the luxury of the setting did little to alleviate her growing sense of dread.

She blinked, trying to piece together her fragmented memories. The events of the previous night came flooding back—Reginald’s deceitful note, the encounter under the oak tree, and the sudden darkness that had overtaken her as the chloroform did its work. Panic began to rise as she recalled how she had been lured away and then rendered unconscious.

She tried to sit up but felt a sudden, uncomfortable pressure around her ankle. Her breath hitched in her throat when she looked down and saw that her ankle was shackled to an iron hook embedded in the wall. The chain was heavy and unyielding, its cold metal digging into her skin.

She tugged with increasing desperation, her heart racing as she tried to pry herself loose. The chain refused to give in, and her attempts only served to heighten her frustration and fear. The room itself was austere, with stone walls and minimal furnishings beyond the bed. A small, barred window near the ceiling allowed a sliver of light to filter in, illuminating the cold, oppressive space.

She took another look at the chain that bound her. It was long enough to allow her some movement around the room. Carefully, she stood up from the bed, feeling the weight of the chain pulling at her ankle. She moved slowly, testing the chain’s length as she made her way across the room.

Although she doubted it would be of any use, she had to try the door. As she had expected, it was firmly locked, and a new surge of fear coursed through her. She pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear something, but there was nothing on the other side. There were no voices, no footsteps. Wherever she was, she was there alone.

Determined not to give up, Vivianne turned her attention to the small window near the ceiling. She moved carefully, making sure not to stumble or pull too hard on the chain. Once she reached the window, she stood on her tiptoes and peered through the bars.

Outside, the view was mostly obscured by a thick curtain of ivy and dense foliage. She could make out a few indistinct shapes and the distant outline of what might have been a building or structure, but nothing that offered any recognizable landmarks or clues about her location. The view was so unfamiliar that she couldn’t discern whether she was in the countryside or somewhere else entirely.

The ivy-covered window did provide a bit of light, but not much in the way of visibility or hope. Vivianne felt a pang of desperation as she realized how isolated she was. She had hoped that seeing something familiar might spark an idea or lead to a potential escape route, but the view only left her more uncertain.

With no immediate answers in sight, she reluctantly turned away from the window and returned to the center of the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, mind racing with thoughts of how to escape and what Reginald’s intentions might be.

Her eyes darted in every corner of the room, in search of something that she might use as means of defense or a tool to aid her escape. The furnishings were minimal: a simple wooden bed, a small nightstand with a lone candle, and a few sparse decorations. She searched the nightstand, but it only contained a dust-covered book and a few pieces of parchment, none of which were useful.

“Nothing,” she said aloud because she needed to hear some noise, even if only her own voice.

Her movements were quick and purposeful as she examined the room’s few details. She lifted the bed’s dust ruffle, hoping for something hidden underneath, but found only a bare floor. The walls offered no clues, being solid and unadorned. Her frustration grew with each empty search, but she pressed on, determined to find anything that could help her.

Just as she was about to give up, she heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. Panic surged through her, and she quickly moved back to the center of the room, trying to appear composed even as her heart raced.

Her eyes focused on the door, her entire body trembling. Reginald had brought her there for a reason, but what was that reason, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t even guess. She kept herself away from the door, but she had no means of defending herself if she found herself in more danger than she already was.

With a heavy sigh, she accepted that all she could do was wait. The doorknob turned slowly, finally revealing a figure shrouded in darkness.