Reminded that there were worse dragons in the house than Cecily, Betsy hurried along, and Cecily returned to her own room to think. It would be a terrible betrayal to raise the alarm and have Mary found and dragged back here to meet the fate both of them found too awful to countenance.
At the same time, Mary was innocent and still very inexperienced in the ways of the world. How far could she truly go alone without risking harm? If anything happened to her and Cecily did nothing to find her, she would be responsible for that harm.
The only solution was for Cecily to retrieve Mary herself and hide her in a safe place.
But how can I accomplish that if I do not even know where Mary has gone?
Back in her room, Cecily spotted something she had missed at first in her hurry to get food to her hungry sister. On her pillow lay a letter, addressed to her in her sister’s hand. She broke it open and unfolded it without delay.
The contents made her gasp and cry out again, covering her mouth with her hand lest that maid be passing in the corridor again.
Dearest Cecily,
Uncle will not be reasoned with, but I will never marry the Earl of Ashworth. He is a revolting old goat.
My heart also forbids marriage to anyone but my one true love, Patrick Winslow. He has ridden to my rescue tonight, and I go now to be with him forever.
Refrain from searching for me, Sister. I anticipate that we will arrive at Gretna Green by morning. We are confident that his brother, the Duke of Greyhaven, will grant us a modest residence once we are wed. I am taking none of my possessions with me, as our uncle bought them, and I wish to avoid any reminders of him. Please conceal my absence for as long as possible.
Ever your most loving sister,
Mary
Cecily reread the letter with the same urge to both laugh and cry. Mary had run away with the younger brother of the very man who had caught Cecily red-handed at Mildenhall House tonight.
She vaguely remembered Mary talking about dancing with this Patrick at some of the Christmas and spring parties, but little else. She had not even registered his surname until this moment, or perhaps it held no significance before she met the Duke of Greyhaven.
It was obvious, too, that Mary had no idea how far away Gretna Green was from London. Surely, Patrick must know that they’d be lucky to cover that distance in a week, in fine weather. He must also know that with Mary under one-and-twenty, there could be no marriage in either England or Scotland without Lord Holt’s permission.
The wayward pair would therefore travel together as an unmarried couple, and Mary could very easily be ruined. Not knowing Patrick, Cecily could not even be sure of his true intentions toward Mary. His older brother seemed to have no qualms about flirting with women, even though he was already married. Patrick might well share the same lax moral standards.
What if Mary had been seduced by the empty promises of a rake and was left abandoned with an illegitimate child? Cecily did not even know how long Mary had been gone or how far she had traveled. Every scenario that came to mind seemed worse than the last.
“Oh, Mary, what have you done?” she groaned softly.
As she heard the maid’s footsteps passing back down the corridor, she darted out of her room.
“Betsy, were there any callers while we were out tonight?” she whispered urgently. “I mean, callers for my uncle.”
“Begging your pardon, miss, but your uncle was out at his club all evening, and he has not come back yet.”
“So, no one called?” Cecily pressed, unable to ask specifically whether anyone had called for her sister without giving the game away.
Betsy shook her head. “No, miss. No one called, and it was only Miss Mary and the rest of the servants here. I don’t know who you were expecting, but I’m sure Lord Holt can answer any questions tomorrow better than I can.”
“I’m sure,” Cecily agreed, withdrawing again. “Goodnight.”
Mary had left the house secretly, it seemed, and no one would know the time of her departure.
“Oh, there was a message for Miss Mary, though,” Betsy suddenly added. “A boy brought it at about eight o’clock, and I took it upstairs myself.”
“Eight o’clock?” Cecily repeated, veiling her interest as far as she could.
“Yes, I remember wondering if it was a reply to the message Miss Mary sent out at six o’clock, but it seemed too early for that.”
Cecily swallowed and nodded. If the message to Mary came at eight, then she had fled between then and the time of Cecily’s return home.
“You’re probably right, Betsy,” she said. “I doubt it was anything important. However, you’d best not mention those messages to anyone but me. I don’t think Lord Holt or Lady Holt would like it if they knew that you’d been helping Mary send messages when she’s meant to be confined at home.”
