Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My dearest Alexander,

I am ecstatic to find out that you have not only arrived in London but have also bought the Blackwood Estate, which we sold before leaving for France after your father’s death. I miss you terribly, but I must thank you for taking heed of my concerns seriously and going to England at once to find Eliza.

The little girl was left all alone in the world, and we even left her two years later when we had to move away from our country home and cross the country to where Richard’s parents resided and needed us.

You are well aware that I continued writing to her, and so did you, until one day, she asked us to stop writing and disappeared. My heart has ached since that very day, and I hope you find her soon enough.

The Grafton London Estate is right beside the Blackwood Estate, and you must visit it at once to find out whether Eliza is here or in the country. Do write to me once you find out anything.

With love,

Mother

Alexander folded the letter that his valet, George, had handed to him a few minutes earlier, saying it had just arrived from France. He missed his mother just as much and even missed Mary, his little sister, who was just fifteen years old. However, Alexander knew he needed to be in London.

What he had thought would be a short search where he would be reunited with his childhood friend, Lady Eliza, had turned into a mystery he could not understand how to unfold.

It had only been five days since he had arrived in London, during which he had hired a private investigator to look into the matter along with buying the Blackwood Manor and moving here.

From what he had found out through the servants, what once had been the Grafton Estate was now known as the Russel Estate, the Russel family making religious use of the place. In fact, the place had not been occupied by any member of the Gordon family for years now, and no one was even aware what had become of them.

How was it even possible?

“My Lord?” George called out to him, and Alexander looked up, still rather confused about the whole thing.

“Yes?”

“Mr Striker is here to see you.”

Alexander stood up at once, eager to see the private investigator he had hired to look into the matter.

It was true he had come to London on his mother’s request and guilt over not knowing what had become of her best friend’s daughter, but a part of him missed Eliza just as much. He had been thirteen while she had been seven, but she had been much older for her age, and far too mature.

The two of them had bonded over their mutual love for adventure, and he had taught her things that girls were never interested in learning.

He had been the one to teach her horse riding and to shoot arrows, and she had even learned to fish with him as they used to go fishing in the little stream between their estates in the countryside.

Those were beautiful times, until they had to move away, and then Eliza disappeared from his life.

But I will find her. I have to.

“Mr Striker,” Alexander greeted the young man right after entering the drawing room where he was seated.

From what people had told Alexander, John Striker was the best investigator in the business, able to find intimate and covert details about people at the drop of a hat.

He had his ways of doing things, and Alexander had found him rather interesting. He dressed peculiarly, wearing a long trench coat no matter what time of the day it was, and he never took off his hat either. His moustache was rather huge but suited his face, and he always held a cigar between his lips.

He was both handsome and classy, and Alexander had found himself trusting the man almost immediately.

“My Lord,” he greeted Alexander, after which they both sat down and faced one another.

“So what do you have for me?”

The man sighed dramatically, leaning forward on the sofa. “From what I have come to see, Eliza Gordon does not exist.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before that, must I address you as Marquess Lennox or Earl Eastwood?”

Alexander was surprised: his title as the Earl of Eastwood was one of his lesser-known titles, and not everyone was familiar with it. Although John Striker had clearly done his research on Alexander as well, knowing him quite closely already.

“You can call me Alexander.”

“In that case, My Lord, the country estate neighbouring the Blackwood Estate, which once belonged to the Gordon family, now belongs to the Russells, and so does the London estate. From what I have found out, after the duke and duchess died mysteriously, the Russel family settled into the house, Edgar Russel being the cousin of the duke and uncle to their daughter Eliza Gordon.”

“Yes, yes.” Alexander nodded. “We still lived in the country when the Russel family settled in the house. Although, Eliza still lived with them.”

“She must have, but since you moved, Lady Eliza disappeared.”

“Disappeared how?”

“She has never been seen in society, and her name has never even been heard by anyone in the nobility. She is simply a ghost of someone who might have existed but no longer does. The family could have moved her to France because that is one of the rumours I heard, or she could have died.”

Died? Alexander’s heartbeat stopped for a second.

“She is not in France.” He shook his head, “And she certainly cannot be dead. Be reasonable, Mr Striker.”

“How do you know she is not in France?”

“Before arriving in London, I had my people look over France to find out if she was staying there or perhaps visiting, but she is not there.”

“In that case, I have been unable to find her in London or the rest of England either,” John said dejectedly.

“This is not right, Mr Striker,” he said, mostly conversing with himself, “I can feel something is terribly wrong about the whole situation, and I will have to find out what it is.”

“If you know an old house servant who might be contacted, you might be able to gather more information because all the servants in the country house and the London estate were replaced ten years ago.”

“What about her inheritance, Mr Striker? There must surely be a record of that?”

“Yes.” John nodded, giving Alexander hope, “When the duke and duchess passed away, the duke’s will had been done very smartly. He already knew he would not be able to give his daughter his title or the country home, so he gave her everything else. Every penny that belonged to the Grafton name was written to Eliza Gordon, including the dresses, the jewels, and even the London house now called the Russel Estate. If Eliza Gordon is alive and exists, everything the Russels are using right now belongs to her, and they are committing a major crime.”

Alexander was certain Eliza Gordon did exist. But what had the Russels done with her? He suddenly felt terrified, extremely worried for her sake.

“Thank you so much, Mr Striker.” Alexander stood up, “If you find out anything else regarding the matter, I wish to know about it at once. I appreciate all the good work you have done for me. This will help me in finding Eliza.”

“Of course, My Lord.”

The butler came inside at a knock on the door, and Mr Striker was ushered outside while Alexander made his way towards his study, extremely confused. He knew he needed to do something, and he needed to do it quickly, especially now that the London Season was almost upon them.

As he entered his study, George followed him inside with a steaming cup of tea, which he placed on Alexander’s table.

“Your tea, My Lord.”

He nodded absently at his valet, sitting behind his desk with his mind still on Eliza and the supposed mystery of her disappearance. Where could she be? he wondered, his heart racing with confusion.

John Striker had been right in suggesting that Alexander needed to find an old house servant to discover more, but where would he even find them? Could someone still be working on the estate?

It was still worth a try.

“You seem worried, My Lord.” George’s concerned tone made him look up, an idea suddenly springing to his head, “Can I do something for you.”

“Actually, George, you can.”

Alexander stood up, striding out from behind his desk, his mind already rushing in triumph. He knew exactly what he needed to do to reach a servant from the Russel London Estate and find out if someone who had been there fourteen years ago could potentially still be working there. He had to take this risk.

“Anything for you, My Lord.”

“Take off your clothes,” Alexander said hurriedly, already beginning to take off his boots.

“I do not understand, My Lord.” George was the very picture of confusion, and Alexander realized how absurd his request must have sounded to his young valet.

“I need your clothes. I will pretend to be you, George, a stable hand of the Blackwood Manor and the right hand to my valet.”

“But I am your valet.”

“Absolutely you are.” Alexander nodded. “But if I simply pretend to be a valet, I will have no reason to go inside the Russel Estate, but as a stable hand, I can find one reason or another to get inside the place.”

“The Russel Estate? Our neighbours?”

“Yes, I must get inside and do some investigating myself. No other way left.”

George’s confusion finally cleared up, and he nodded.

“Is this the search you have been doing since France? You have been looking for Eliza Gordon.”

“Precisely and for that, I must assume your identity, and if need be, you will have to assume mine.”

“Of course, My Lord. I will quickly run up to my room and bring you some of my clothes, which will definitely make you look like a stable hand.”

Alexander nodded, already anticipating the success of his plan.

***

“DYSON! COME BACK!” Alexander let go of the reins of his beautiful chestnut stallion, allowing him to run into the woods bordering the Russel Estate property.

He was sure Dyson would run quickly and enter the estate grounds, forcing Alexander, now dressed as a stable hand named George, to run after him, giving him a reason to enter inside and eventually perhaps reach the kitchen.

In mock play, he began to run after Dyson, who only ran further ahead, his hooves stampeding firmly on the forest ground.

However, Alexander merely walked behind him, knowing Dyson was not going anywhere when he suddenly heard the loud neighing of his prized stallion. Growing worried, he increased his pace to find Dyson, unable to see him anywhere nearby in the forest.

“DYSON!” Alexander shouted, growing worried, but Dyson neighed in response, helping Alexander locate his position.

He ran forward into the forest and thankfully saw Dyson standing just a few feet away, though he was not alone. A young woman, her back towards Alexander, stood just in front of his horse, her hand resting affectionately between his eyes as he allowed her to pet him. The view was strange for Alexander because Dyson was a very fussy stallion with French mannerisms, having been born in France. He never allowed anyone except Alexander to come close to him, but the way this young woman was petting him felt as if she knew how to handle a horse just as well as Alexander did.

He was both surprised and impressed, slowing his run to a walk.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

She turned around as he greeted her, her arresting beauty suddenly making Alexander a little too conscious about his own looks.

He knew he was not unfortunate looking; in fact, the French women had never failed to dazzle him with compliments, being a little more forward than English women in their attempts to woo.

His dark brown hair reached his shoulders, but he had tied it in a ponytail, keeping it away from his face, which only made his square jaw appear even stronger.

He was tall and muscular and certainly should not have been conscious about his looks one bit, but something about the woman before him would have made him feel this way even if dressed in his usual attire.

He was immediately attracted to her.

“Is the horse yours?” Her honeyed voice reached his ears, making her words appear musical.

As he approached, the first thing that struck him was her exquisitely blue eyes, highlighting her pale, porcelain skin, which was slightly pink due to the cold air. Her light blonde hair was tied in a loose braid, but despite that, Alexander could see how thick it was, casually reaching her waist. She was much too petite and short, almost breakable.

Alexander almost felt protective of her.

“Yes, miss,” he replied, standing right before her.

“You should be more careful before letting him walk alone into the woods. He could have been hurt or could have hurt someone.” Her tone was slightly harsh, as if she was trying to scold him, and Alexander wished to laugh at the heartfelt attempt. He could see she was not used to being stern, the role not coming to her easily.

“I am sorry,” he immediately apologized, “it is Lord Eastwood’s horse, and I was simply tending to it in the stables when the beast decided to run away. I had been looking for him all over.”

“He is all yours now.” She smiled, her entire face lighting up. The very smile tugged at Alexander’s heart as he tried to shake away the feeling of familiarity that had overtaken his senses.

It almost felt as if he knew her. He knew her very well.

“Do forgive me, but it feels as if I have seen you before. Do you work on this estate?”

“I do not remember ever seeing you,” she replied plainly, looking at him curiously, “but yes, I do work on the estate. I am Beth, and you are?”

“I am George.”

“You are a stable hand, George?”

“Yes, yes.” He nodded, still in awe of her. “At the neighbouring estate. I work for Lord Eastwood.”

“You better get back before he requires his horse.” She smiled once again, picking up her basket from the ground.

Alexander noticed the basket was filled with fruit from the woods and several flowers and realized she probably worked in the kitchen.

He had never seen her before, so why did she feel so familiar? As he looked closely, he tried to place her features, but the last time he had seen Eliza, she had just been a child, and this person before him was a beautiful young woman.

Except that her eyes were bluer than Eliza’s, and her hair a little less blonde.

But, the beauty marks. Alexander’s eyes widened as he noticed the beauty marks on her face, one of them just beneath her right eye and the other on her left cheek. Exactly the marks Eliza had. Or did Eliza have them under her left eye and right cheek? He was suddenly confused.

But if this woman was Eliza, why would she call herself Beth? The Russels couldn’t have done this to Eliza. They couldn’t have forced her to become a maid and taken away her identity. Even the mere thought of it was cruel, and Alexander had no desire even to consider such a thing.

No, it couldn’t be the case.

“Is something on my face?” Her voice forced him to blink quickly, returning to the present.

“What?”

“You are staring.”

“I must apologize,” he immediately said, smiling at her. “I was lost for a second, but I must thank you for your help in finding my horse. I must repay you somehow for your kindness.”

“That is unnecessary.” She raised her hands, already turning around.

“Here …” Alexander walked towards her, taking her basket from her hands as she continued to protest. “Let me carry your basket to the house. Please.”

“I can take it,” she said, “you do not have to trouble yourself.”

“It would be my honour.”

She must have seen something in his eyes because she stopped protesting and agreed, the two of them making their way back towards the house in silence.

Alexander knew she would lead him straight towards the kitchen, which was exactly where he needed to be to find a maid who might be familiar. For some reason, despite not even knowing her for more than a few minutes, the silence they shared was hardly uncomfortable.

Something about her just felt right.

The house finally appeared before them, and he followed her inside as she entered the kitchen through the small back gate, but Alexander surveyed the entire place as quickly as possible.

“You can leave it here.” He placed the basket on the kitchen counter as the few maids in the kitchen turned to look at him.

Suddenly, an elderly woman entered the kitchen, her hair completely white from age and Alexander felt as if the risk he had taken was finally successful. It was Lara. She had been Eliza’s nanny when she was a little girl, and even though she had gained several years, there was no denying it was her.

He needed to find a way to talk to her.

“Thank you for helping me carry the basket,” Beth said, and he turned back towards her.

“Of course,” he replied, “I will see you some other time.”

“Goodbye. Don’t lose Dyson again!”

She called after him as he chuckled, leaving the kitchen from the back gate, but his mind was already on Lara. He needed to talk to her one way or the other, and he needed to do it soon.