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My mess is over,he realised. At least as far as his debts were concerned. The Comte had paid the dowry, the Comte had lied just as much as Penelope had, if not more. And he would not see a penny back.
Remembering the scene in the churchyard, Anthony hurried to the cupboard where he had left the package he had brought back from London only to find that what Penelope said was true. The envelope filled with important documents was indeed still right where he had left it.
I have to find her!he realised, knowing that after all that had happened, he could not in good conscience let her go.She is my wife!
Returning to the churchyard where he had last seen her, Anthony searched high and low, hoping to find her and bring her home.
Whatever she has done, whoever she was in the past, she is my wife,he told himself with determination. He did not know the woman who had lied and deceived him, but he knew that was most certainly not the woman he had come to know, the woman who had given away many of the things he had given to her just to help ease the lives of those under their care, giving away many of her own luxuries to the tenants of their estate just to see them cared for.
Yet no matter how long he searched, no matter where he went in the village, he could not find her. He asked and asked both for his wife and for Penelope Dupont, unsure as to whether she would use her name at all or whether someone might even recognise her. It seemed nobody had seen hide nor hair of her.
As the sun started to go down and Anthony realised there was little left he could do, he headed for the nearest mail post and requested paper and ink to write to Mr Patterson, offering up all the information he had in the hopes that perhaps the solicitor might have more luck.
If you are out there, Penelope, I will find you,Anthony vowed to himself, unwilling to think of what the alternative might be.
In the meantime, he would not rest until he had put an end to whatever plots and schemes the Comte St Clair was up to. He was sure that he should have known all along that the Comte was up to something. The dowry and the way Lady Clara had practically fell into his lap had always been too good to be true.
I was just too blinded by desperation to see it,he realised, hoping that despite everything that had happened, he might finally be able to right all the wrongs that had occurred over the last few months.
"Have this sent directly to Mr Patterson of Mr Patterson and Co. in London, immediately," Anthony instructed, offering the young man a couple of extra coins for his trouble.
Then he returned home, hoping that all would work out in the end.She came into my life for a reason,he assured himself, realising that although she had betrayed him out of necessity, he actually loved the woman whom he had once called wife.
Though he spent days looking for her himself, there was nothing, not a single piece of information pertaining to the beautiful woman who had once slept in his bed. And so Anthony turned his attention to one final piece of the puzzle.
Wearing his plainest clothes and with his hood pulled discreetly up to cover his face, he waited to witness justice served atthe Blue Dolphin Inn.
Having received word back from the authorities, he had planned his intentions perfectly, and with a mug of ale before him, he watched as the Comte St Clair was arrested for crimes of treason against the English crown, dragged out with his hands tied behind his back along with a noblewoman who likely was in her late forties, a woman who claimed to be Lady Cecily St Clair and who claimed she had no knowledge of her brother-in-law’s plans.
Yet she too was bound and escorted from the premises, kicking and screaming as they were both swept away to the local jailhouse to await transfer to London and their trial.
Anthony watched with a smile on his face, having already heard word from his co-conspirators that the Comte was in hot water with his own after having given up the false information that Penelope had so cleverly planted into his hand before her disappearance.
Oh, Penelope, if only I had known just how clever you truly were,Anthony thought, his heart stopping once more at the thought he might never see her again.
Having searched for days, Anthony had turned his attention to gaining all the information he could on the Comte and his companions, hoping to ensure that the people who had abused and tortured Penelope Dupont were punished for all the unimaginable things they had done. It had taken a few weeks to do so, but it had been a welcome distraction, at least in part, from thinking of her and how much he missed her.
Just as the commotion began to die, Anthony heard the front door of the inn opening again. Looking up, he found Mr Patterson scurrying in with his spectacles falling halfway down the bridge of his nose and the first specks of rain dotted upon his jacket.
"Mr Patterson! Over here!" Anthony called. Having received word of his solicitor's intentions to visit him with important information, he was most eager for the man to join him, for once hopeful that he might actually have some good news.
Mr Patterson looked unsure for a moment, standing beside the door and making no move to join him. Remembering his hood, Anthony pulled it down and waved the man over once more.
"Your Grace, I did not recognise you!" Patterson exclaimed as he hurried over.
"Please, sit," Anthony instructed, gesturing for the innkeeper to bring them more to drink. Lately it was all he could do to dull the pain in his heart. "Please, Patterson, tell me you have some good news for me."
The solicitor looked surprised at the desperation in Anthony's voice, though he did not mock him. Instead, he placed his pocketbook on the table between them and started to pull documents from it.
"I have word of a Penelope Dupont working as a companion for an elderly widow in Scotland," Patterson explained, and Anthony had to bite his lip to stop himself from snapping at the solicitor.
"Could you not have sent this news via letter?" he asked, knowing that if he had, he would already have been well on his way to Scotland to find her. His mind did not even allow him to imagine that it might not behisPenelope.
"Yes, I could have, but I did not wish you to go rushing off before I could give you all the information," Patterson explained, and a brilliant smile spread across the solicitor's face. "Did the woman ever mention anything about the late Comte's will?"
Anthony shook his head and raised an eyebrow as he asked, "Why would she?"
"I think the true question is why wouldn't she?" Patterson smirked at him. "Your Grace, having received the letter that you yourself received from the young woman, I do believe that if she was telling her own truth, then even she may not know what I am about to tell you."
