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“The headmistress did not know where she had gone, only that Thea and some of her possessions were missing on Wednesday last.”
James reached into his coat and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “Thea left this behind.”
Lady Edith stepped forward and took the note before moving toward the candles on the bureau. “Dearest Mrs. Moulton— You have been all things kind and lovely, and I do regret disappearing in such an abhorrent fashion. Indeed, you have taught me better manners than this, but for reasons you cannot understand, please believe I have no choice.”
She lowered the letter and looked at James, a stricken look on her face. The name Mrs. Moulton sounded familiar, but it was such a faint recognition that I could not place where I recalled hearing it.
Lady Edith cleared her throat and continued to read. “Please do not fret. I am safe where I am going in mind, body, and virtue, and I will see to it that you are notified of my continued safety in one month’s time. Please do not discard my trunk. I intend to retrieve it as soon as I am able. Sincerely, Dorothea Northcott.”
She lowered the paper and looked to James. “This must be her ill idea of a prank. Tell me that girl is just now upstairs readying herself for dinner.”
“I wish I could.” James looked between the door and me. “Ben and I thought it best to return to you with this information straight away, but we did do a bit of poking around in York before leaving, and I am sorry to report that we did not find any leads to indicate where she might have gone.”
“Or to whom she might have gone,” Benedict added. “Though Mrs. Moulton was convinced Thea did not possess a beau of any type. Surprise, surprise.”
“I want none of your witticisms today, Ben,” Lady Edith snapped. She crossed to the chair beside Henry and lowered herself in it, looking at the letter as though it held a map to Thea’s whereabouts or outlined her reasons for running away.
“Could she have gone to your cousin’s house?” I asked, my voice as timid as my feelings.
“No. If that were the case, she would not have felt the need to ask Mrs. Moulton to refrain from searching for her. She would not need to hide what was our original plan.” Lady Edith lowered her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. “This is my fault. I pressed a Season upon her, and I should have listened when she told me she did not want to stay with Cousin Matthew. I should have invited her here.”
“She must know she is always welcome at Chelton,” Henry said. “You’ve been nothing short of a mother to the girl since her own died. How long did she live here before going off to school?”
“More than a year,” James said.
Henry lifted an arm as though James had made his point for him. “Exactly. Mother, you cared for and supported Thea as though she were your own daughter.”
Lady Edith raised her head to look at Benedict. “Perhaps she was comfortable with me, but I am certain she would not have wished to stay here.”
Benedict raised his hands as though surrendering. “I would have been happy to vacate the premises for her. The lodge is mightily tempting this time of year.”
“Thea is too gentle a soul to dream of putting you out for her own comfort.”
Benedict snorted. “Gentle?”
“Enough, Ben,” James admonished in an authoritative tone. “The facts are as follows: Thea has run off. She has not sought refuge at Chelton or with Claverley. She does not have other acquaintances that either we or Mrs. Moulton are familiar with. Can anyone think of anything useful”—he speared Benedict with a look—“to add?”
The room remained silent. I considered the poor young woman’s situation, and my heart reached out to her. “Perhaps that is not asking the correct question,” I said timidly. I waited for permission to continue, for this conversation felt outside of my rights to enter, and I knew I was only included now because I was a member of the family. James nodded at me, and I continued. “If Miss Northcott felt she had no choice but to run away from her school, perhaps the question we should be pondering is not where would she go, but why would she leave?”
“Cousin Matthew,” Henry suggested. “Perhaps she cannot abide him or Lady Claverley. I would not blame her for that opinion.”
“Or the husband hunt next Season,” James mused, rubbing a hand over his chin. “That was her aim in staying with Claverley, was it not? To find a tolerable match?”
“It was,” Lady Edith said. She pressed her fingers to her temples again, and I wondered if her headache Sunday was not fabricated, and if so, did it continue to linger?
I stepped to James’s side and indicated his mother. “Should we go in to dinner now and consider the matter privately for a time?”
James released a contented sigh and nodded. “I think Felicity has the right of it. Let us eat and ponder the dilemma. We can reconvene after everyone has had an opportunity to consider what is best to be done.”
Then perhaps someone could explain to me exactly why this family had taken on the girl’s wellbeing so wholly. I understood the responsibility Lady Edith felt toward her goddaughter, particularly since the poor girl had lost her mother, but where was the rest of her family? Where was her guardian?
James slipped his hand into mine and pulled me toward the door. “Please sit beside me tonight. I do not wish to be parted any longer.”
I looked up and found Lady Edith watching us, frowning.
Suppressing my discomfort, I squeezed his fingers. “I would love that above all things.”
