Page 69 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“There’re tracks here. Someone’s walked this way,” Sir Samuel called out, and Nicholas hurried over to where he was pointing.
The tracks were clearly visible, zig-zagging through the snow, as though whoever had made them was uncertain of their direction.
“Amelia?” Clara called out, her voice echoing across the darkening landscape beyond.
The others did the same, a chorus of voices calling out, but to no avail. There was no response, and Nicholas sighed.
“It’s the best we have for now. Let’s follow the tracks. It could be an animal or one of the moorland ponies,” he said, but Sir Samuel shook his head.
“It’s a person. The tracks are too small to be anything larger. I’ve tracked animals abroad. These tracks are freshly made, in the last few hours, I’d say,” he replied, and Nicholas nodded.
There was hope, then, and now they followed the tracks, sometimes veering off the path to left or right. Whoever had made them was surely lost, uncertain of their way, and with darkness now having fallen, they used the lamps to guide their path.
“We’re nearly at the church,” Clara said, as they came to a steep part of the path, where it widened out to form a bridleway.
This was the moorland church, its outline visible above, and Nicholas paused, uncertain which way to go.
“Perhaps we’re following someone completely different? Maybe a farm hand returning home from a Christmas celebration, or the curate come to say his prayers on this holy night,” Nicholas said.
“The tracks lead up to the church,” Sir Samuel said, beckoning them to follow.
***
The church door opened, and she stepped inside, her strength giving way as she collapsed to the floor. She could not go on any further, and she crawled across the flagstones, looking up at the sanctuary, the moonlight flooding through the stained glass, outlining the unmoving figures of the Holy Family, silhouetted in the silvery light.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to go on, but her strength was failing her, and it was all she could do to drag herself forward, collapsing again on the steps of the sanctuary.
“Amelia?” a voice called out, and Amelia startled, opening her eyes, the echo of the voice sounding all around her.
“Who’s there? Can you help me, please?” she called out, unable to make out where the voice was coming from, or who the speaker might be.
“Amelia. It’s me. It’s Rupert,” the voice replied.
“Rupert? Oh Rupert, I’m so scared. Help me,” she replied, looking desperately around for him, even as it seemed she was alone.
“My Amelia. My darling Amelia. Let me go…let me go…” the voice echoed.
“But I…I don’t want to let you go. I love you, Rupert,” Amelia gasped, clutching at the locket around her neck.
“Be happy, Amelia…let me go…let me go,” the voice continued.
“I can’t let you go. I don’t have anyone else, Rupert. Stay with me,” Amelia called out, sill clutching at the locket.
“Let me go, Amelia. I’m always with you, but I want you to let me go. Be happy, Amelia. Love again,” the voice said.
“Oh, Rupert… no… I can’t,” she cried out, surrounded, it seemed, by a sudden gush of wind, warm and all-encompassing.
It was overwhelming, and with a cry, she collapsed with tears rolling down her cheeks, and the world around her suddenly dark.
***
Nicholas was wary. He half expected to find the curate kneeling in prayer, shocked to find his church invaded by a search party. But as they approached the door of the church, they found it ajar. Sir Samuel called out a greeting, holding up his lamp. There was no response.
“Amelia?” Nicholas called out. But, there was no reply.
“There’s no one here,” Sir Samuel said, sighing and shaking his head.
“We should look inside,” Clara said, and stepping forward, she pushed open the door.
