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It started as a soft scratching on her bedroom door, the one Melisande had locked before she’d collapsed into bed. That much she could ignore. It was morning, and she’d just gone to bed, and it simply wasn’t fair to try to wake her. She put the pillow over her head as the scratching went to a soft knock.
“Open the door, Melisande. ” Emma’s soft voice came from the other side. “I need to talk to you. ”
She didn’t need to talk with anyone. Emma would know full well that she hadn’t returned home last night, and she would know where she’d been and what she’d been doing. And that was absolutely the last thing Melisande had any intention of discussing.
The knocking grew louder, penetrating the layers of feathers and laudanum-induced fog, and Melisande rolled over, cursing. From the angle of the sun she could tell it was early morning, not much past six. She hadn’t closed her curtain, but the overcast sun was still an annoyance. Why should anyone expect her to wake up at such an ungodly hour when she’d been out all night and…
And not returned home until after nine in the morning. She’d slept the day and night away, wrapped in misery and laudanum, and they were one day closer to the solstice. Bloody hell.
Emma was pounding by now, and the wood door was shaking in its frame. Melisande sat up, groaning, and climbed out of bed. She was vaguely aware that her ankle wasn’t bothering her as she limped toward the door. Vaguely aware that muscles she hadn’t known she had were protesting. And she wasn’t going to examine that thought too closely.
By the time she opened the door, Emma was using both fists, and one look at her expression and Melisande’s bruised heart sank. Something was very wrong, indeed.
She looked past Emma to the gaggle, all in various states of undress, watching them. “When did you last see Betsey?” Emma demanded breathlessly.
“This morning,” Melisande replied immediately, confused.
“Oh, thank God. ”
“At least, I think so,” she added. “What day is it? Friday?”
Emma’s relief vanished. “It’s Saturday. You’ve slept the clock around. Do you mean you haven’t seen Betsey since yesterday morning? Where was she?”
“In the library. We talked for a bit. She was missing Aileen, and worried about the future. I told her she could stay here as long as she wanted, and then she went down to visit Cook. Did you ask Mollie Biscuits?”
“Of course I did!” Panic was shredding Emma’s usual calm. “She said Betsey came in, helped her with the bread, then took some pasties and said she was going to eat them out in the sun. Mollie thinks she was heading for St. James Park, but we can’t be certain. She might have walked farther ahead to Green Park or even all the way to Hyde Park. And she never came back. No tea, no supper, and her bed hasn’t been slept in. ”
“She wouldn’t have run away,” Melisande said flatly, trying to force her brain into full working mode despite the lingering effect of the damned laudanum.
“Of course not. Which means only one thing. ”
The gaggle were listening avidly, but they were all women of the world, and knew the answer as well as she did. “It means she was taken. ”
“No!” Mollie Biscuits let out a cry, tears running down her plump cheeks. “Not that poor wee child!”
“It’s the Heavenly Host,” Violet piped up helpfully, causing the rest of the gaggle to start talking, so loudly that Melisande could barely think.
“Enough!” Emma cried, temporarily shutting them up while doing absolutely nothing for Melisande’s headache. “If they’ve taken her, and there’s no guarantee that they did, then Lady Carstairs can get her back. She’s been working very hard this week, and Viscount Rohan has been assisting her. Cook, bring us up a pot of strong tea and some of those little cakes you’ve been experimenting with. Violet, you take the others and go out looking. It’s always possible that Betsey simply got lost and found an alley to sleep in. She had to do it often enough when she was younger, poor thing. ”
“
Yes, Mrs. Cadbury,” Violet said importantly. “And lord knows she’s at a good age. Too old for the gents who like the young ones, yet not old enough for those who like a bit of meat with their brisket. ” She plumped her full breast with one hand.
“What does that even mean?” Long Jane, beside her, demanded.
“It means she’s got a good chance at being safe enough,” Sukey said. “God willing. ” Sukey’s tenure with the bishop had left some of his piety intact.
There were a few added “God willings” from the more religious of the gaggle, as they slowly started to disperse, and Emma took Melisande’s arm, hurrying her back into her bedroom.
“I’ll help you dress,” she said briskly. “We haven’t any time to waste. ” She paused enough to look at her. “I wish we had time to talk about your night with Rohan, but Betsey’s been gone for far too long, and we can’t afford to waste any more time. ”
“Nothing happened,” Melisande said stoutly.
“God give me strength,” Emma muttered, pulling the robe off her shoulders. “Of course it did. You just don’t want to talk about it, which I assume means he either botched the job or you didn’t like it. Whichever it was, we can deal with it later. ”
“There’s nothing to be dealt with. I told you, nothing happened. ” She let Emma hand her into one of her narrow walking dresses, then began fastening the long row of buttons up the front.
“Then why is your body adorned with such interesting signs, may I ask you? Clearly my lord Rohan likes to mark his partners, though that must be something new. Unusual for someone who prides himself on his self-control. ”
