They all fell quiet, with nothing more to say. The ride back to Hayward’s estate was silent, with not a sound uttered between any of them. When the carriage pulled up outside of the estate, Phoebe hovered in the carriage, uncertain how to get inside without being seen by the staff.
The coach driver clearly knew their secret by now, having had to carry her to and from the solicitor’s office, but she had seen Hayward speaking to the driver, pleading for his silence in this matter, and he had given his firm promise. The rest of the staff though, didn’t yet know.
“Stay here for a moment,” Hayward pleaded with her as he stepped out of the carriage, looking toward the house. The Marquess descended too. They hovered by the door of the carriage for a minute, discussing how to get her inside when there was a commotion coming from inside of the house.
“My Lord! Your Grace!” It was Mrs Goodman’s voice. They all turned their heads to the door at the panicked tones, watching as she ran out of the house with a note being waved madly in her hands. She faltered when she got near to the carriage, her eyes slipping toward Phoebe in the carriage.
Phoebe grimaced, realizing now another person would have a few more hints as to the fact she was not who she claimed to be.
“Mrs Goodman, please, this has to stay secret,” Hayward said, motioning toward Phoebe. “Could you get the lady inside without being seen?”
“Yes…of course,” she said, nodding. “I can take her in through the side entrance. The other staff are at luncheon.” She turned her head toward the Marquess and proffered the letter in her hand forward. “My Lord. You must see this. It was delivered only fifteen minutes ago, with a lot of urgency by one of your own messengers.”
The Marquess took the note from her hands as Phoebe moved to the door of the carriage, trying to find out what was afoot. He read it quickly before looking up, connecting his gaze to Hayward’s.
“It’s from Diana. Something has happened. She begs me to come home as soon as possible.”
Chapter 19
“To think, ten minutes ago you were the one telling me to be calm,” Francis said when he was back in the carriage. Lady Ridlington had been taken into the house by Mrs Goodman, and he and Josiah had both climbed back into the carriage, heading toward his and Dian’s house.
“You think I can be calm now?” Josiah asked, brandishing the parchment in his hand.
“No, not in the slightest,” Francis said, shaking his head, not feeling remotely calm himself, though he felt at least able to wear a little more of a calm façade now, for the sake of his friend. “She’ll be fine, I am sure of it,” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder, wishing he could believe his words completely.
They fell quiet as the carriage rumbled along the road, heading back toward the Marquess’ house. When they arrived in the right road, Josiah leaned forward, looking out of the window.
“Oh my god…” he muttered. The words made Francis lean forward in fear, looking out of the window too. His jaw fell slack at the sight.
The front of Josiah’s house was in carnage. The door was hanging off the hingers and where clean white marble steps leading up the porch to the front door usually were, they were marred with a chair that was upside down, and a coat stand that had been flung across them, with pelisses and jackets splayed on the floor.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt with the horses whinnying loudly in objection, though Josiah hadn’t really waited until the carriage had stopped. The door was open, and he had jumped down with Francis hot on his heels.
“Diana?” Francis heard himself scream his sister’s name in fear, not quite able to believe the sight that was before him. Beside the doorway, Josiah’s butler was sat down, with his head hanging between his knees.
“What has happened?” Josiah said, striding forward as the butler lifted his head.
“The Viscount of Ridlington,” the butler said, his voice strained. “The constables have been sent for.”
“Lift your head higher,” Francis pleaded with the butler as he reached his side. The butler did as asked, revealing a bruise growing across his forehead.
“God have mercy!” Josiah spat the words. “Did the Viscount do that?”
“Yes, my Lord,” the butler said. “I refused to let him in. I cannot apologize enough. He got past me anyway.”
“It is not your fault,” Francis said with feeling.
“Diana? Diana!” Josiah roared her name and ran up the steps toward his front door, jumping over the fallen chair and coat stand. Francis followed, chucking the chair out of the way as they ran into the house.
His blood turned cold as he looked around, seeing the interior had been ransacked. There was not a table still in place, nor a painting that was straight on the wall. Francis peered into the sitting room beside him, seeing chairs overturned and even Diana’s harp tipped over in anger.
“Diana?” Josiah shouted again, running between the rooms downstairs.
“Josiah?” she answered at last, appearing at the top of the stairs. Francis was first one to reach the staircase, bounding up the steps toward her.
“Diana, are you all right?” Francis asked as quickly as he could, reaching out and taking one of her arms as he checked her all over.
“I am fine,” she said hurriedly, though there were tears in her eyes. “He did not hurt me.”
