Page 56 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
* * *
“What in God’s name is happening?” Percival cried as the coach finally made its way up the laneway toward the manor house. Both David and Leonard leaned forward for a better look at what had caused the exclamation from Percival.
Dozens of carriages flanked the house as people milled about, their rigid postures visible even from the distance. Leonard could not see their expressions but the atmosphere was undeniably fraught with tension. The men did not wait for the coachman to open the door, each of them spilling to the ground, seemingly atop one another.
The cold hand of dawn had reached out to shadow the area in a hazy grey light and it took Leonard half a minute to locate a familiar face among the strangers who stood about, speaking in terse, low voices.
“Jacob!” he bellowed when his eyes fell upon the butler. “What has happened? Who are these people?”
“Your Grace! You have returned!”
“Where is Catherine?” Leonard demanded. “Miss Follett? Miss Elizabeth?”
Jacob’s face was a mask of despair and Leonard’s stomach lurched dangerously. Her lips did part but no sound emitted.
“Speak, man!” Leonard barked, his manners forsaken.
“LEO!”
He spun as Catherine burst from the house, relief flooding every crevice of his body.
“Catherine! Oh, praise the Lord! What is the meaning of this?”
They embraced and he stood back to study her face, gesturing at the crowd he did not know. Streaks on her cheeks indicated that she had been crying and the concern resurfaced in his gut. Before he could demand to know again what had occurred, Percival spoke.
“Where are my daughters?”
Catherine hung her head and chills raced through Leonard. A silence hung above them, heavy with the unknown.
“Catherine! Answer Lord Gordon. What in God’s name happened here?”
“Frances is asleep,” she mumbled, unable to meet their eyes.
“Asleep?” Percival repeated. “How could she possibly be at rest when there is a bloody circus in the courtyard? That is not the daughter I know. Is she ill?”
“Oh, Lord Gordon, forgive me—I did everything I could!”
“Catherine, keep your wits together,” Leonard ordered her. “Calm yourself and speak. Why is Frances asleep? Where is Elizabeth?”
“What have you people done?” David growled, approaching the group with fire in his eyes. “Who are these strangers among us?”
“Your Grace, please come inside. I shall fetch you a drink,” Jacob offered but Leonard waved him aside.
“David, see to your sister,” Percival barked but David did not move, his gaze fixed on Catherine. Daggers emanated from his eyes, it felt, but Catherine had dissolved into a fresh batch of tears, her voice caught in the sobs.
“We will never learn anything at this rate!” Percival growled. “Where is Elizabeth?”
He spun to confront Jacob and Leonard did the same. It was clear that Catherine was far too upset to explain.
“Jacob, I will not ask again.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” he mumbled, stepping back as though she feared she might be struck in her idle response. “Miss Follett sleeps because she has been sedated.”
“What? For what reason?” Percival howled. “David, see to her at once!”
“I will go when I know—”
“You will do as you are told!” Percival yelled, cutting his son off in mid-protest. “She does not handle sedation well as you are aware. Go, at once before she wakes and flies into a fit from which she will never recover.”
