Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

" W here is Caroline?" Isabella asked as she looked about the dining room. "We should wait for her."

"She is feeling ill," Frederick responded without looking up from his plate. He purposefully cut into the shank of lamb, dipped it in the thick gravy which pooled beside it, and took a bite as if it was the most casual of things. "She will not be joining us."

"Oh no," Isabella gasped, pushing her chair back as if she meant to stand. "What has taken her?"

"A common cold, I am sure," Frederick continued thickly, swallowing and then washing it down with a mouthful of wine. "Nothing to worry with."

"I should see if she is all right." Isabella made to stand.

"Isabella…" Frederick warned her, a pointed look. "I told you, she is ill but otherwise fine. Bed rest is what she needs, not distractions."

"But—"

"And I would ask that you leave her be until she feels up to leaving her room. I do not want you coming down with an illness also. Is that understood?" He raised an eyebrow at her, making sure that she saw the look he was giving.

She pushed her lips together in argument, looked toward the ceiling as if she could see through it and into Caroline's room, but then relented and sat back down. "All right. I suppose it is for the best."

"Ill, you say?" his grandmother pressed on him casually. "That is most strange."

"And why is that?"

"I saw her just a few hours ago, and she seemed fine to me."

"Well, she is not."

"Me too," Isabella added, again looking to the ceiling. "I was with her all day, and she did not say anything."

Frederick bristled, keeping calm because that was what was needed at the moment. "I do not know what to tell you. I saw her myself, and believe me, she is not in a state to join us for supper."

A moment passed between Frederick and his grandmother and Isabella. His grandmother eyed him curiously. Isabella still looked worried as she cast her gaze upward. Frederick had hoped to at least make it through tonight before he was forced to deal with the consequences of all that had transpired this evening, and he readied himself to snap and command that the subject be dropped if it came to that.

"I will see her tomorrow then," Isabella sighed as she settled back in and picked up her knife and fork. "I do hope she is all right."

"As do I…" Frederick could feel his grandmother eyeing him, a sense that she wasn't buying what he was selling.

"Let us discuss something else," Frederick said, clearing his throat with another mouthful of wine. "Your new governess, Isabella. She is set to arrive in two days, and I expect you to treat her with the same kindness you showed Miss Dun – Dowding," he hurried to correct, grimacing silently to himself for making the error.

Luckily, his daughter did not notice. "She best be nice to me," Isabella pouted. "But I promise I will do my best."

Again, Frederick could feel his grandmother eyeing him, and again, he ignored it. Another forkful of lamb, more wine, and he went about discussing the newly hired governess with his daughter and what was expected.

Of course, his mind was barely present in the conversation, and he was glad that Isabella was so dour so as to not be too argumentative. She accepted the fact that a new governess had been hired, knowing there was little she could do about it, resolved to at least do her best for her father's sake.

And as they spoke, Frederick's mind continued to drift to the most obvious of places, thoughts which made him feel sick to his core, queasy and as ill as Isabella thought Miss Dunn to be—that was how he was choosing to think of her now, forcing that name whenever she came to mind so as to not forget…

He still could not believe what had happened. And if Miss Dunn had not confirmed it for herself, he might have refused entirely. He did not want to believe it. The pain and heartache that swept through him even right now was more than he could bear. Strength was forced to the fore, a desire to look as if he was fine in front of his daughter, knowing that later tonight when he was alone, the suffering would come.

How could she do this to him? That was what troubled him most. To lie like that. To use him—to use his family! Again, she had confirmed it as a truth, so there could be no debate, yet… something just didn't feel right about it all. It was as if something was missing, yet Frederick could not see what.

Although, and this was the reality that he assumed most likely, Frederick was simply hoping that there was more to it, an excuse that he could get behind, a reason for what she did to explain it all, allowing him to forgive her because to hate the woman who he had started falling for was a tragedy unlike any he had ever known.

"Father…" It was Isabella, speaking softly.

"Hhmm?" Frederick gave his head a shake and looked at his daughter, who was watching him curiously. "Yes, dear?"

She tilted her head, clearly sensing something was wrong. "May I be excused?" She indicated her empty plate.

"Oh." He blinked, for in his own head he had not even realized how long they had been eating. "Of course," he said with a forced smile. "And thank you for asking."

Isabella nodded once and rose from the table to leave.

"And leave Miss Dowding alone," Frederick made sure to call after her as she hurried from the room. "I mean it, Isabella!"

She did not respond which had Frederick wondering if he should go after her… although doing so would only raise suspicion. Tomorrow, he would be forced to sit his daughter down and tell her the truth, a task he was not looking forward to one little bit. He would need strength for it. Command. He would need to have moved on himself, something which he hoped tonight would see done.

"So…" His grandmother sat forward, folding her hands on the table. "Are you going to tell me the truth now that Isabella is gone?"

"The truth?" Frederick pretended to look confused. "And what truth is that?"

"What has really happened to Caroline—and before you lie to me," she hurried when she saw Frederick open his mouth to object, "please do not insult me or my intelligence. I may be old, but I am no fool, Frederick." She looked right at him, fixing him in her no-nonsense gaze. "She is gone, isn't she?"

No point in lying, Frederick realized. What was more, for how he was feeling, how confused and rotten, what he needed more than anything was someone to talk to. A chance to confirm he had made the right decision, as if that would somehow make him feel better.

"How did you know?" he sighed, bowing his head and looking at the table.

"I heard yelling when I walked past your study earlier," she explained simply. Strange that she didn't sound upset, for surely, she would be. Nor surprised by the looks of things. "And I caught a glimpse of her as I made my way to supper—hurrying from your study with tears in her eyes and cheeks as red as freshly plucked tomatoes."

Frederick winced. "I had no choice."

"I am sure you did not."

"She lied to me, grandmother."

"I do not doubt it for a second."

"I—" Frederick went to press his argument, as if that was what he and his grandmother were doing. But he took note of her words, the tone of them, the at ease expression she wore as she looked at him. There could be no doubt that none of this was coming as a shock to her. "You… you knew?" he gasped.

His grandmother sighed, looking as resigned as she did upset. "I did, sadly."

"But… but how?" he studied her, unable to fathom what was going on. If his grandmother had known the truth, why would she let it go on? Especially knowing that Miss Dunn was trying to take advantage of him. It was absurd to think!

"I assume you are referring to her true identity, then? Miss Dunn, daughter of Viscount Edgerton? Oh, of course, you are," she then dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Why else would you throw the poor girl out."

"Grandmother…" Frederick gaped. "How… how is it that you knew? And that you did nothing!"

"Did nothing?" she frowned. "What was I to do?"

"Tell me is what!" he cried. "To think, you were… you were pushing her on me from the beginning. And yet, you knew?" He leaned back, as if to get to close might see him succumb to some sort of poison. A curled lip of revulsion, still unable to fathom that his grandmother was involved. "You supported it!"

"Of course, I did. She is a lovely girl, despite circumstances."

"Circumstances!" Frederick exclaimed. "She was using you, grandmother! Using us! Lying on her father's behalf to get her hands on my fortune. And you knew! I don't… I cannot… I—What is that look?" he cut through his stammering at the sight of his grandmother's brow furrowing.

"Is that what you think she was doing?"

"Yes! She told me as much."

"Oh, Frederick…" she sighed as she reached out and took Frederick's hand, pity now, a look that had Frederick's stomach dropping because he sensed that the story he knew wasn't near complete. "I should have told you sooner, and I might have if I thought it was my place. Now, I wish I had."

"Told me what? What on earth is going on!"

"When Caroline first came to me two years ago, she accidentally let slip her real name. She didn't think that I caught it, and her desperation to pretend that she was somebody else led me to believe that there must have been a good reason. Naturally, I wasn't about to let it go unchecked."

"So, you've known the entire time?"

"I did a little digging," his grandmother explained. "I learned that her father was Lord Edgerton, a man who I had never heard of until I looked into him. And when I did…" She sighed and shook her head. "… I realized there was a good reason that Caroline had lied."

Frederick's stomach turned. "Wh - what? What was the reason?"

"His wife, Caroline's mother, died only a week or two before Caroline turned up on my doorstep. The general consensus is that she died of natural causes. An accident."

"What does that?—"

"She slipped and hit her head on a table, or so they say. However, I asked around, and there were more than a few who theorized that this Lord Edgerton might have had more to do with it than he claimed. He was a cruel man, many said. Vindictive. Rumors of his abuse were told with few even suggesting they might have been exaggerated."

"He murdered her?" Frederick said as if it was fact.

"I think so," his grandmother agreed. "And Caroline—now, this is only a guess, of course. But I assumed she fled the household rather than risk her father's wrath. When I put all of this together, I saw no harm in letting her stay and playing along with her cover story. The girl was clearly terrified."

"But why lie?" Frederick pressed, his mind spinning, the guilt growing. "Why not tell you? Or tell me—if her father did kill her mother, and she saw it happen, then surely, she would want to seek justice?"

His grandmother sighed and then shrugged. "That is a question for Caroline, I am afraid. Perhaps she was scared? Perhaps she was feeling guilty? Perhaps she thought we would send her back if we found out, so she thought it safer to say nothing. As said, only Caroline knows the truth."

That had Frederick reeling, feeling now that he might be sick. "And I sent her away…" he said to himself, the disgust he felt present in his tone.

Strange that Frederick had wanted an excuse for why Caroline had lied to him. A reason that he could latch onto that might give him a chance to go after her because he still did not feel right about what happened. Strange that now that he had one, he felt even worse than before. That sense that he had condemned her to death, that she was in danger, and it was all his fault.

His grandmother smiled. "Oh, I am sure that she will not hold it against you."

"But grandmother…" He looked at her pleadingly. "I told her to leave. To never come back. I… I accused her of using me." He spat that final word out like poison.

"And if you explain to her now that you know the truth and that you are sorry, I see no reason why it should matter. You are sorry, are you not?" She looked at him.

"Of course!"

"And if you were to send for her, and she agreed to come back…"

Frederick felt his resolve growing. "Then not only would I seek forgiveness, but… but I would assure her that her father could no longer hurt her. She must think he is still searching for her—it is no wonder she was hiding. Oh…" He pushed his chair back and rose. "I must go after her!"

His grandmother beamed. "I was wondering when you would get to that."

Frederick half made to rush from the room, his blood surging now with a sense of excitement. Yes, Caroline had lied to him, but it had been for good reason! If he found her, told her he knew the truth, explained that she was safe, there was no reason they could not get past this evening.

What was more, there was no reason that they could not be open finally about their feelings for one another. No more lies. No more secrets. Tonight would see the end of their past and the beginning of their future.

Only… he stopped after taking just a few steps.

"I do not know where she has gone." He bit into his lip as he looked about himself as if for answers. "I told her to take a carriage, but I know not where."

"When the coachman returns, he will know," his grandmother assured him. "Think about it. This late at night, she has likely taken shelter at an inn. There is still time, Frederick. There is no need to worry?—"

"Your Grace!" a voice called suddenly from beyond the dining room. "Your Grace! Your Grace, quickly! Please!"

Frederick's eyes widened, and he strode from the dining room, somehow knowing already what the calls of panic were regarding. Into the foyer he marched where a valet, Mr. Bonnet, helped lead what looked to be a drunken stable hand through the room.

"What is this?" Frederick commanded. "Explain yourself!"

"Your Grace, this is William; he works in the stables." Mr. Bonnet led William carefully through the foyer, one arm slung over his shoulder as the drunk-looking stable hand could barely stand. Covered in mud. Knees buckling. Frederick had half a mind to take him by the scruff of the neck and launch him out the front door himself.

"And what is he doing in my home—explain yourself, Mr. Bonnet! Now is not the night for whatever this is!"

"Your Grace!" Mr. Bonnet cried in panic. "I found him wandering through the front gate, dazed, barely able to speak, and?—"

"He is drunk!" Frederick swept toward the stable hand and grabbed him by the collar. "And he ought no better than?—"

"He was attacked!" Mr. Bonnet cried over him. "William! Tell him what you just told me!"

Frederick paused, still holding William by the collar, lifting him so his feet were just about off the ground. William's eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, one side of his mouth hung loosely, and the mud that was on him covered well over half his body.

"It was… it was Miss Dowding, Your Grace…" William spoke slowly, barely able to string the words together. "She came to me not an hour ago, demanding that… It was a carriage she wanted, Your Grace. Told me you gave her permission to… that you allowed her take one."

Frederick released William and stumbled back, his face paling as he began to understand what had happened… where this story was heading.

"I was doing just that…" William staggered, and Mr. Bonnet rushed to him, helping him stand the best he could. "There was a man on the road, Your Grace. He begged me to take him… he wanted a ride into town, Your Grace. I told him… told him no!" He gave a shake of his head, gasped, and then shoved a hand into his forehead as if in pain. "So he attacked me, Your Grace. Hit me… my head… he threw me from the carriage and left me to rot."

"And Miss Dunn—Dowding!" Frederick corrected, again taking William by the collar. "What of Miss Dowding!"

"Woke in the mud, Your Grace…" William swayed, eye rolling back. "Walked here, somehow. Don't know how I made it."

"Miss Dowding!" Frederick cried. "What of Miss Dowding!"

"I have not seen her, Your Grace. The carriage… he took it, he did. Must have… she must have… she was in it, I am sure."

The foyer seemed to turn around Frederick as he released William and stumbled backwards. He reached desperately for something to hold on to, eventually grabbing Mr. Bonnet by the shoulders which kept him standing, even if the walls and ceiling continued to spin.

Someone had attacked the carriage that was transporting Miss Dowding. Someone had taken it—taken her! Because of Frederick, his actions, his haste to judge and condemn, now she was in very real danger. Even worse, Frederick sensed that this was only the beginning…