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Chapter 33
Simon strode through the cramped halls of Richmond Castle. It was one o’clock in the afternoon, long after the sun had the chance to rise above the murky clouds that had sheathed the sky for the last week. Everything should have returned to normal. Yet here he was, shuffling his way down the east wing, hoping to reach the guestroom in time before Eloise would leave for lunch as she had done over the last couple of days.
Before he met her, he would consider himself a lunatic for doing something so obscure for a lady, but he was beyond that point. The only reason he was here was to hear her, just one final time. Yesterday he had convinced himself it would be the last time, but her whispers, hums, slight movements, brought a strange comfort to him. Just knowing she was here and safe brought a strange comfort to him.
It seemed as if she had her own routine. Leave early morning for breakfast, pick a couple books from the library, return to her chambers to read, have lunch, and then retire to her bedchambers—the guest room, until dinner.
At least, that was what Simon had convinced himself of. But now, he was not so sure, as once he finally reached her chambers, he was only met with silence. At risk of appearing silly to any of the passerby servants, he pressed his ear to the door waiting patiently to hear anything. But again, only silence.
Strange. Perhaps she’s asleep.
He tapped the door softly, expecting a response in case she was asleep, but once again, nothingness. Raising an eyebrow, he carefully pushed the metal bar and opened the door.
Although her scent lingered through the room, she was nowhere to be seen. The sheets were tidy, the book she would read half-open on the bed, and her dresses had neatly been piled up on a drawer as a pillow to some jewelry. But aside from that, the room held no hint of her presence.
Stepping closer to the bed, he ran his fingers against a page of the book. The room was cold, the fire long dead in the hearth. Something felt off, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Still, he needed to leave before she would return or explaining his presence would be quite an awkward talk. Though deep down, he would treasure it if it would allow him to see her one final time. Perhaps he was too cold and distant the last time they spoke.
But as he turned around, he was met with a red-haired maid, Fenella, who was holding a fresh change of cream sheets in her hands. She swiftly entered inside, placing them on the side of the bed before turning to face him.
“Your Grace,” she said, offering a deep curtsy, “are you looking for Lady Ellie?”
“Uh…I was simply wondering where she is—was, nothing more. I’m not intending to see her, of course, just making sure she is, I mean, doesn’t…”
“I understand, Your Grace,” Fenella interrupted, and Simon was glad of it as he was beginning to sound like a bumbling fool. “But she isn’t in the Castle any longer.”
“She’s not?”
“No, she left this morning with a man,” Fenella added.
Simon nodded. The storm had massively subsided, and the thick veil of clouds had begun parting like a tide over the past few days, so it was expected. As for the man, it was likely her Uncle. Truthfully, he could have prepared a carriage for her return the day before, but he couldn’t bring himself to distance her too soon. Not seeing each other while stuck in his Castle was one thing, but being so far from her and unable to see her, hear her, know how she was faring, was something else entirely.
Breaking his thoughts, he nodded again, and he was about to exit the room, but Fenella stopped her by clearing her throat.
“I’m sorry for intruding, Your Grace, but…I-I was wondering if you can check on her, maybe,” she paused, facing the ground in nervousness. “I know it isn’t the place of a mere maid, but the young Lord practically dragged her outside. Again, I apologize.”
“Young Lord?” Simon rubbed his chin with his hand, contemplating her words carefully. If it’s a young Lord, it definitely wasn’t her Uncle—perhaps a cousin of some sort? Of course, there was no way of knowing for sure unless he asked like the maid was requesting of him.
“I see. Well, I’m certain there was good reason if she complied,” was all he said.
He turned once again, ready to step outside.
“Your Grace!” she called out one final time in panic. He turned to face her once more. “…I, uh, forgot to add that she didn’t look happy. It looked like she was in tears…”
Despite trying his best to show indifference toward the maid’s words, it was becoming near impossible. He pressed a fist into his pockets, thinking of any excuse he could use to check on her now.
“Do you remember his name?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she paused, “It’s Lord Hackberry.”
The name rang a bell in his head. He had heard it before, but he was unsure from where or how long ago—not that it mattered. It did leave him with a benumbing feeling in his core, though he was uncertain if that was due to Ellie’s departure or the Hackberry name itself. He needed to make sure she was all right before he would let her go for good.
“Thank you for letting me know, Fenella. I’ll talk to Richard and have him send over a letter to assure she returned to the Lyndon estate safe.”
