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Chapter 26
“Elliot, my friend. You are in a state.” Harrison’s words hardly helped, nor did the friendly clap to his shoulder.
Elliot was sat in his drawing room, nursing a brandy between his hands with his tailcoat flung over a chair nearby and his cravat undone. Grace was standing nearby with the brandy carafe in her grasp, looking at him with the same pity that was in Harrison’s own expression.
“Are you sleeping yet?” Grace whispered, coming closer to top up Elliot’s brandy.
“This helps.” He nodded his head at the brandy. “Though I can hardly indulge in this every night.” As Grace stepped back, he took a hearty gulp.
At least tonight, I may sleep well.
Since Ophelia had gone, he had been at his wit’s end trying to find her. He didn’t even know where to look for her, but it was plain she was not staying at the house where Mrs Townsend resided with her sister in London.
He had gone to Miss Blakely’s house in London, too, thinking Ophelia might seek refuge with her friend, but the family denied knowing anything of her whereabouts, and he hadn’t even seen Miss Blakely around London anymore. Deciding his best bet was with her family, Elliot had asked a servant to watch Mrs Townsend’s house, in case there was ever any sign of Ophelia being there, but he’d heard nothing since.
“You cannot go on like this.” Harrison rounded the settee and sat so heavily down in the seat beside Elliot that the brandy in his hands shook dangerously close to the rim of the glass. “It is no way to live.”
“Perhaps not,” Elliot acknowledged with a nod. “But I must see her, Harrison. I cannot explain the feeling. I do not know how to put into words what it is I feel, but please, try to imagine it. What if someone you cared about so much was suddenly gone—not because of something you had done, but something theythoughtyou had done?” Elliot’s words made Harrison sigh deeply.
“I know. The imagining of it is hard enough to think of,” he whispered.
“Elliot,” Grace’s voice made Elliot look to his sister, seeing she was fidgeting with the brandy carafe as she hastened to place it in a drink’s cabinet nearby, “what do you mean ‘thought’ you had done? What of what Celeste said…?”
“It has been another month, Grace. I saw Celeste the other day and she is not showing. To be uncouth, and forgive me for it,” he breathed deeply, “but the last time I waswithCeleste, it was before I married Ophelia. If Celeste were pregnant, she should be showing by now, and she is not.”
“Wait.” Harrison sat abruptly forward in his seat. “Then Celeste is lying? Beyond doubt?”
“I am certain of it,” Elliot said, swallowing some more of his brandy until there was nothing but the dregs left. “What I do not understand is why. Why would she go to these lengths to cause trouble?”
“Let us find out.” Harrison stood to his feet. “Elliot, how can you sit calmly there?”
“I am not calm. I have not been relaxed for a month. What you judge to be tranquility is merely exhaustion.” Elliot had to stifle a yawn even as he said the words. He had not slept well recently and the bags under his eyes that greeted him every morning in the mirror were testament to this.
“You are certain Celeste is lying, yes?” Harrison asked, reaching for his shoulder and shaking it once.
“I am.” Elliot nodded.
“Then let us find out why.” Harrison drew Elliot to his feet.
“Harrison, I’m in my cups. I’m in no state to go anywhere now.”
“When would you rather go, hmm? After another night of sleeplessness?” Harrison asked and reached for Elliot’s tailcoat on the back of the chair.
Elliot knew Harrison had a point. The longer this went on, the worse Elliot would feel.
“Even if I can prove she’s lying, Harrison, it doesn’t bring Ophelia back. Not when I do not even know where to find her.”
“One problem at a time.” As Harrison reached for the tailcoat, so did Grace. The two of them touched hands briefly on the jacket, then jumped back.
Elliot peered over the rim of his glass as he gulped the last dregs, his eyes tarrying on Grace the most. She blushed a deep shade of red and avoided Harrison’s gaze after that.
“Come, I’ll take you to see Celeste myself,” Harrison said, offering the tailcoat to Elliot. “Or would you rather nurse your wounds for another night with more brandy?”
Something about the question made Elliot put down the glass firmly on the table. He was reminded of the last time he had been heavily in his cups. It was the night he had been gambling, months ago, trying to seek back the fortune he and Grace had lost. That was the same night the card sharp had accosted him and pushed him into the River Thames. Ophelia had been the one to find him and pull him out.
He didn’t fancy returning to the sorrow he’d felt that night in the water.
“Let us go,” Elliot said, hurrying to put on his jacket.
