Page 57 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
Noah didn’t have to try and calculate. His sister’s death had wounded him, and his father’s passing had hurt even more, but this–this agony felt like death itself.
* * *
The gates of Leverton Manor opened smoothly and George rode through them with his mind mired in anguish and his chest in pain. How could he tell his mother that her child, her precious Emmeline, had not been found? If he couldn’t tell his mother that Emmeline was missing, how could he tell her that she was probably dead? George knew if he did, he would be planning another funeral soon—two if Emmeline really was dead.
With his features trained into the stoic visage he wore when dealing with his men, George alighted from his horse and ordered, “Each of you must return to the Brennan Hill site at dawn and will not leave until dusk. My orders stand until we find my sister. Leader, assemble a list of these men and submit it to me, I will arrange for food stipends to be sent to their families while these men are working. Good night, gentlemen.”
Entering the manor, George removed his cloak and tugged his cravat off—the cloth felt like it was strangling him. Instead of going to his room, he went to his study, liberated a decanter of scotch, and poured himself a generous amount of the liquor. The harsh burn on his empty stomach pained him but not as much as the fact that he hadn’t found his sister–that was unquestionably worse.
George mulled over when to tell his mother and decided that he would do it in the morning. Once his mother heard it, George knew there were many sleepless nights in her future, and if there was one merciful thing he could do, it was to allow her this one night of peace.
“I will find you, Emmeline.” George said to himself, the air, and to God, “I will find you.”
* * *
A week separated into seven days, and seven days was broken down into one-hundred and sixty-eight hours—that was how long Emmeline was missing. Noah had not slept more than three hours of each night while his beloved was gone, as he spent his days searching and nights worrying. The strain was plain on his face and his agony grew every day.
His mother Miriam kept trying to comfort him but Noah knew there was no comfort to be had until Emmeline was back home and safe in his arms. His grandmother, the Dowager Duchess, however, was overjoyed with the constant reports of the vanished lady and it took the grace of God for Noah not to wring her stringy neck every time she boasted how ‘righteous vengeance’ had taken the Leverton spawn.
Noah had no peace—he ran on little food, that tasted ashen in his mouth, and drink that was bland like water. His face looked like a slab of stone as the days passed and Emmeline was not found. The trade dealings between him and Leverton had ground to a halt and Noah had no intention of continuing them until Emmeline was found.
He was signing off on a few receipts of his tenant’s rent payments, and correlating them with the taxes he needed to pay to the crown, after another fruitless day’s search. He was still short on funds but he could wait until he got the rest.
His door was tapped on and Noah didn’t even look up. The only person who was allowed to disturb him when he was in his study was the butler. “Yes, Cole?”
“A magistrate and a constable are downstairs, Your Grace,” the butler announced. “They are here about the St. Maur issue.”
Noah tensed before nodding tersely, “Please tell them I will be there in a moment.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler said.
Finishing his work, Noah signed off on another receipt and closed his files. Standing up, he tugged his waistcoat down and left his study. He got to the foyer while being a little muddled as to why the men of the law were not in a sitting room instead.
“Your Grace,” the magistrate, Mr. Fielding spoke, “Good evening. I am sorry to say that we’ve received reports that you had dealings with St. Maur the night before he was found dead on the field.”
Noah’s eyes widened, “Reports? By whom? I have had no dealings with that man for months, a year even.”
“That is not what we are told,” the magistrate replied, “Moreover, we know that you are the main enemy of St. Maur.”
Newberry’s disposition changed to anger, “That man made an enemy of me, not the other way around. I did not accuse him of anything—hedid that tome.After my sister ran away with his brother, and they died in the carriage crash, St. Maur made it his mission to antagonize me, as he was sure that I had something to do with their deaths.”
“The witness said they overheard St. Maur call out the name Fitzroy,” the magistrate replied, “And there is only one Fitzroy alive who can fit that category.”
“Anyone can call the name Fitzroy,” Noah said tightly, “This is a frame up.”
“Nevertheless, Your Grace,” the magistrate replied, “We need to persuade you to stay here. Inquisitors from London will be visiting you from time to time, and your cooperation is vital to this investigation. We acknowledge your station, Your Grace, and for your safety, we only ask that you minimize your trips to out of the Dukedom.”
Noah couldn’t believe that they actually thought he was culpable, “I did not kill St. Maur.”
“And we will do our best to clear you, but until that is decided, please comply, Your Grace,” the magistrate replied with a tip of his hat. “Good evening.”
Noah stood there bristling with anger. First St. Maur died, putting suspicion on him, then Emmeline disappeared putting more suspicion on him and then someone ‘said’ they had spotted him dealing with St. Maur the night before his death.
Was there no mercy for him? What if the trumped-up charges did put him away, what then? Would he ever find peace for Emmeline?
Chapter 20
Too Much to Bear
