Page 35 of The Vagabond Viscount
The case of the missing viscount
Inquiries are continuing as to the whereabouts of the son of Earl Bramshaw. Our readers will recall that this newspaper first made mention of Viscount Cadnam’s disappearance in late March. Earl Bramshaw has apparently made it known that his son’s business is no concern of others. The Star has it on good authority that senior members of London society are now pressing for a formal investigation into the young nobleman’s continued absence from the company of his friends.
After paying the newsboy, Augusta folded up the paper and stuffed it into the deepest pocket of her warm woolen coat. She then crossed back over Bruton Street and began the short walk home to Berkeley Square and Mowbray House.
Flynn had now been missing for almost twelve weeks. Despite Gideon’s inquiries and those of Flynn’s uncle, Charles Cadnam, no sign of him had been found. Every day she scoured the papers from cover to cover for any hint of news.
In the weeks following her first visit to Bramshaw House, she and Victoria had twice knocked on Earl Bramshaw’s door, but each time the door had been answered, it had been swiftly closed in her face. The earl wouldn’t deign to speak to her, and her numerous letters to him were swiftly returned unopened.
Her concerns over Flynn having married the woman from Hyde Park had long been replaced by the gnawing fear that something terrible had befallen the viscount. His father’s refusal to put paid to the rumors surrounding his son’s disappearance only served to add to her worries.
Gideon had taken it upon himself to journey to the Cadnam family estate, Bramshaw Hall, in Southampton but had returned to London both dejected and empty-handed. No one at the earl’s estate had seen Viscount Cadnam since the day he had left in his father’s coach, some ten years previously.
Augusta had always suspected that things were bad between the earl and his son, but it had never crossed her mind that Flynn had been effectively banned from his family’s country home. And with his father holding tightly onto the purse strings, the man she loved had to all intents and purposes been kept a prisoner in London, only allowed to leave when it suited the earl.
And now he had disappeared, leaving not a trace.
Rumors of Flynn having met foul play continued to swirl about town, but with Earl Bramshaw’s steadfast reluctance to assist with inquiries both formal and informal, the search had ground to a halt.
“And that is exactly what he wanted,” muttered Augusta.
She had taken to buying the newspaper from a local seller first thing each morning rather than reading the one which had been delivered to Mowbray House. Clipping pieces from the paper took time, and she didn’t want to have to explain her actions to anyone other than Victoria.
Her sister greeted her inside the foyer of their home a short while later. As Augusta bade a quick thank you to the footman who had accompanied her, Victoria hurriedly waved her over. “Thank heavens. Where have you been?”
“To get the newspaper. Why, what’s happened?”
Victoria took her gently by the arm and drew her into the nearest sitting room, closing the door behind them. “You might want to sit down for this. I am afraid it’s not good news.”
Over the past months, Augusta had tried to prepare herself for the possibility of receiving the worst news when it came to Flynn. But her private imaginings were nothing compared to the bone-deep dread she was now experiencing.
“Gideon and Papa have just returned from Bramshaw House. Apparently, Earl Bramshaw is now claiming that Flynn has been…”
Augusta was certain that her own heart had suddenly stopped beating. “Please, Victoria. Flynn has been what?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. I beg of you.
“He has been done away with. One of the Bramshaw House footmen also disappeared on the night that Flynn went missing. Late yesterday, his father informed the authorities that he believes this man is responsible for the death of Viscount Cadnam. The earl didn’t have an explanation for what might have happened to Flynn’s body.”
“I see,” whispered Augusta as her emotions shut down. She gripped hold of her sister’s arm, afraid that if she didn’t, she might well collapse.
Her world stopped. The man she loved was dead.
No. No. He can’t be. He said he would come back and that we would be married.
“Oh, V, you heard him that day in the park. Flynn promised we would be together. Him being dead is impossible. He wouldn’t do this to us. He wouldn’t leave me. What am I going to do? This is beyond terrible,” she sobbed.
It wasn’t just terrible—it was the end of all hope. The final, bitter end to everything. For many weeks she had resolutely held onto a tiny sliver of hope. That a miracle would occur, and Flynn would reappear in her life. Good would triumph over evil, and they would find a way to be together. With this latest news, it seemed that her prayers were not going to be answered.
Flynn was gone, and he wasn’t ever coming back.
ChapterEighteen
The Star
Friday, July 10, 1817
An inquest into the disappearance of Viscount Flynn Cadnam was informed that on the night he went missing, a member of Earl Bramshaw’s household staff had been dismissed for poor conduct. In a written submission, the earl stated that earlier on the night in question, his son and the missing servant had been heard exchanging harsh words. Unfortunately, without a body, the authorities are limited with regard to opening a criminal investigation.
