Page 60 of The Ice Queen
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Breakfast the following morning was a mostly silent affair, with only the clink of cutlery on china to be heard.
Lady Margaret spent her time reading a book which she had purchased at the town market, while Julian sat with coffee cup in hand, deep in thought. He hadn’t slept well.
Every time the door to the breakfast room opened, he sat up in his chair, ready to greet Caroline with the well-rehearsed speech of apology that he had spent half the night preparing. But each time, it was another footman or maid who appeared, rather than his house guest.
Finally, Lady Margaret looked up from her book and sighed. “Why don’t you go and find her, because if I have to listen to you muttering under your breath any longer, I shall throw this book at your head.”
He raised an eyebrow and shot a dirty look in her direction. “Remind me to move you to the dowager house when I finally marry. The roof has plenty of holes and I hear there is quite a selection of spiders. You should be right at home.”
“I dare you. This place will fall apart the second I move out. You men have no idea when it comes to running an estate. Nor, would it appear, in securing the hand of a suitable countess.” She met his gaze. Mischief sparkled in her eyes.
Julian set his cup down and rose from the table. Lady Margaret, for all her gentle teasing, was right. If Caroline was not going to come to him, he would have to seek her out.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“About time,” came the reply.
He found a maid in the upstairs hallway just leaving Caroline’s room. He asked her to go back inside and enquire as to whether she was coming down for breakfast.
The maid looked a little surprised. “I am sorry, my lord, but Miss Saunders is not in her room. She went out an hour or so ago. She had her cloak with her, so she may have gone for a walk.”
Julian hurried downstairs and retrieved his heavy winter coat. He searched the grounds, first going to the ice pond, but Caroline was not there. He then went down to the cottage by the lake. Again, no luck.
Over the next hour, he scoured the castle grounds. Finally, after climbing back up from the lower fields and getting his boots and trousers wet from the deep early morning snow, he stood at the top of the rise and tried to catch his breath.
“Where the devil are you, woman?” he said.
She was not inside, and not at any of the usual places he would have expected to find her. It was as if she had disappeared into the earth.
Julian looked toward the ridge which sat at the back of the castle. On top of it stood a grand stone temple. The temple housed the Palmer family crypt where all the previous generations of the Earls of Newhall were buried, including his father.
He trudged up the hill, holding tightly onto hope. If she was not there, then it would be time to gather a search party.
As soon as he reached the top of the hill, he was greeted by Midas who bounded down to him, tail wagging with delight.
“I might have known you would be with our elusive guest,” said Julian. He quietly chided himself for not having had the nous to call the dog in the first place. Midas had taken to Caroline from the start and was never far from her side. He followed Midas down to the opening of the family crypt.
Inside, he found Caroline sitting on the cold stone paving in front of his father’s grave, a fresh bouquet of wild flowers clutched in her hand. She looked at him as he approached and softly smiled. Midas hurried over to sit beside her.
“Good morning.”
“The morning is nearly gone, and I have spent much of it in search of you. I was beginning to get worried,” he replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I went for a walk and eventually found myself here. When I saw your father’s grave, I decided to go into the woods and pick some wild flowers for him. There wasn’t much of a selection, with it being so cold, but I found some winter cherries. The pink flowers are lovely. Do you think he would like them?”
Julian nodded. He came and sat beside her on the stone floor. His father’s grave bore a simple inscription.
Arthur Julian Sloane Palmer
30thEarl of Newhall.
One who loved not wisely but too well
He wiped a bitter tear away. How many arguments had he and his father had over that simple sentence? Yet the late earl had been adamant that it be written on his tombstone. His final message to the world.
“Didn’t you say you were nine years of age when she left?” asked Caroline. She was an intelligent young woman, no doubt familiar with the tragic love story ofOthello, from where the quote came.
