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“A letter. But from whom?” she asked, yet she was confident she already knew the answer. Mr. Wilcox was not dressed in the Kerridge livery. He wore the plain, modest clothes of a London businessman, which meant William had sent him. Her spirits began to diminish, and that surprised her. If it was important enough for this Wilcox person to give her the letter personally, it wasn’t good news.
He handed her the letter. She examined it briefly and then broke the seal and unfolded it.
My dear Louisa,
Unforeseen circumstances have arisen that require I leave immediately for Buckinghamshire once again. I am profoundly sorry that I cannot spend time with you this afternoon, but I assure you in the strongest possible language that I will be at the church on Sunday for the reading of the banns, and I promise I will dedicate all of my time upon my return to you and to our getting more fully acquainted with each other. I sincerely hope you will forgive me.
With the greatest regard, William.
Mr. Wilcox had moved a few steps away from her, allowing her to read privately.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilcox,” she said with a surprisingly steady voice. “Was there anything else?”
“No, milady,” he said, but then he made a noise that sounded to Louisa as if there might be something else.
“Yes?” she asked. “Speak up, Mr. Wilcox, if you indeed have something to add. This letter gave me information, but no real knowledge. And I suspect you know more than you are telling me about the situation.”
“It is not for me to say,” Mr. Wilcox replied. “Nor do I wish to speak out of turn. I was instructed to deliver the letter into your hands by Lord Farleigh and Mr. Heslop, my employer, and that I have done. Anything more than that is for them to explain. But I can assure you that the reason was urgent and not to be taken lightly.”
“But you will not tell me what this reason would be,” Louisa said.
“It is not my place, milady.”
She wasn’t going to learn anything more from Mr. Wilcox, then. She wasn’t about to press the man for more details; she actually admired—albeit begrudgingly—his loyalty to his employer and William.
“Thank you, then, Mr. Wilcox,” she said. “Gibbs will show you out.”
The man made his bow and left.
* * *
On Saturday afternoon, Louisa found herself seated once again at the pianoforte in the music room, wreaking havoc on a Scottish air she usually played rather decently. Huffing out a breath, she began again, paying the strictest attention to the notes written on the page, and yet her fingers still stumbled over them.
She set the music aside and selected another, but it went no better.
“What was that terrible racket?” Alex strolled into the room and planted a kiss on Louisa’s cheek. “Thank goodness it has ceased; my ears were nearly bleeding from the pain. Now they will have a decent amount of time to recover before I must show my face at the Marwoods’ musicale this evening.”
“Another opportunity to spend time with Lady Elizabeth under her parents’ noses, eh?” Louisa said with a smile.
“More like an edict,” he replied with a dramatic sigh. “I might find I could tolerate the chit if her father weren’t so emphatic that our connection begin now. She’s not even made her come-out yet, and it seems everyone is already slavering over the dynastic union to come.”
“I suspect they’re afraid you’ll get snatched away by a scheming young lady before you realized what has happened,” Louisa said.
“Heaven forbid. I shall have to go into seclusion somewhere—the antipodes, most likely. I am beginning to think Rome not far enough.”
“Come now, Alex, I know very well you like Lady Elizabeth.”
Alex ignored her and fiddled with the lace on her sleeve. “Young ladies are getting younger every year,” he drawled, trying to sound comically philosophical—if that was a thing.
“Ah, it’s you, Alex,” Anthony said, poking his head into the music room. “I thought I could hear a dog baying at the moon, and yet it is still daylight.”
Louisa bit her lip.
“What you undoubtedly heard, little brother, were the melancholic tones of our poor, dear sister’s attempt to make music on the pianoforte, for which the instrument will assuredly never forgive her.”
“It was hardly me who was baying at the moon,” Louisa countered. “What have you come to complain about today?” she asked Anthony. “Alex is bemoaning the efforts of certain parents to thrust him and Lady Elizabeth together, although neither of them is ready. And I—well, never mind.”
“I suspect yours has to do with the mystery of the missing husband-to-be,” Alex said.
