Cat frowned.She tried the doorknob.It turned easily.The room was empty, the beds unmade, clothes strewn about.So many clothes strewn about that it was obvious that they—one or both girls—had deliberately made a mess.
She headed to their bathroom.Empty.On to their father’s room.Empty.They hadn’t passed her on the stairs or come downstairs.So, they had to be in the cottage, didn’t they?
But the icy temperature—and the gusty breeze—in their dad’s room drew her attention and she walked deeper into his room and spotted the open window.They couldn’t have climbed out of the window, could they?She leaned out the window to see just how high they were from the ground when she spotted the ladder hanging on the outside of the cottage.It was one of those portable ladders her parents had for their two-story house in case of a fire.They’d shown her how to use it—in case of a fire.You just hooked it on the windowsill, let it fall outside, and then climb out.
And that was what the girls had done here.
Cat shook her head, her temper rising, and unhooked the fire ladder, let it fall to the ground outside and then closed and latched the window.Just because they’d sneaked out of the cottage this way didn’t mean they were going to sneak back in.
Downstairs, she checked the coat pegs by the door and their heavy winter coats were still there, as were their hats and gloves.So, whatever the girls were wearing wasn’t their warmest winter attire.If Jillian wanted to freeze, that was fine, but it was irresponsible for her to take her younger sister out without her being dressed warmly enough.
Cat grabbed her coat and headed outside herself.She checked the back garden first where she spotted the fire ladder in a pile at the base of the house.The small flagstone path, although slick with frost, revealed small footprints leading across the garden, through the back gate, and out toward the lane.
Standing in the road, Cat shielded her eyes and looked right and then left, and then over to the woods before studying the fields again.The park stretched in every direction, dull with winter browns and faded green.
Where had they gone?When had they gone?
Guilt assailed her.She was supposed to be watching them.She was supposed to be keeping them safe.Instead, they’d escaped the cottage and taken off… but for where?
She followed the prints to where they split—one path veering toward the stables, the other vanishing into the stand of trees that led to Bakewell.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, praying the girls had not split apart, but stayed together.
Praying that the two sets of footsteps, going in opposite directions, were simply meant to confuse her.And it did.Jillian’s tactics, Cat was sure.
The air was cold, stinging her cheeks and turning her breath into little puffs of cloud as she swiftly crossed the gravel drive.Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint sound of a bell—the church in the village, perhaps.Or just the wind through metal.
She passed a cottage similar to her own, this one empty from the looks of it.Cat kept walking, heading toward the big house, scanning the yard.No movement.No voices.Nothing but her and the enormous Langley Park estate.
“Lose something, did you?”
Cat spun around to see an older man in a waxed jacket and cap approaching, a pair of leather gloves tucked into his belt.His face was weathered, his accent distinctly northern.
“Two somethings,” she said, forcing a smile, hoping she didn’t look completely terrified.“Jillian and Olivia Harmon.”
The man chuckled softly.“Ah.Dr.Harmon’s girls.”He stopped in front of her, rocked back on his heels.“Don’t you worry, they can’t get into much trouble here.No ponds, no fountains, nothing but some woods—fenced, mind you—and fields.They’ll turn up when they’re ready.”
She sighed.“That’s what worries me.”
He smiled, a little kindly now.“You must be the new helper.American, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so.You sound like our countess.She’s American too.”
Despite her nerves, Cat was intrigued.“Rhys—Dr.Harmon—didn’t tell me that.”
“I suspect he’s not one to talk about the Sherbourne family much.He’s respectful like that.”
“I have no idea how long the girls have been gone,” she confessed, steadied by the older man’s calmness.“I’m worried they’re going to freeze to death.”
“They’ll head to the kitchen for something hot before they let themselves freeze,” he answered.“Mrs.Johnson has a soft spot for them and they know it.”
“I need to tell Dr.Harmon.”
The older man lifted a brow.“And what will you tell him?”
“That they disappeared while I thought they were playing in their room?”
