“I know, and for that, I cannot blame you. If I were in your situation, heavens knows how much of a mess I would have been,” Esther said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close again. “But you’re not alone. We’re all here with you. And you have to believe in Christopher. He won’t rest until the boys are back safely.”
Frances nodded, feeling a small spark of strength reignite at her sister’s words. “Thank you, Esther,” she whispered. “I… I needed this. I cannot express this to Christopher, for he needs to be strong.”
Esther smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Frances’s face. “We’re family, Frances. You can be your most vulnerable self around me.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, the quiet ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. Frances leaned her head on Esther’s shoulder, drawing comfort from her steady presence.
“Even Theodosia has been so sick with worry. She did not sleep well at all last night.”
Frances felt a pang of guilt in her chest. “Oh, I never intended for that to happen.”
“You should not feel poorly about it. It is only natural, as she loves the twins as well.”
“I just want this nightmare to end.” Frances buried her face in her hands.
Her situation was hopeless, and now she could only hope for a miracle.
* * *
Christopher was in his study, poring over maps and reports from the search parties, his mind consumed with finding Ernest and Edwin. His sleep has been fitful, his eyes bloodshot and weary.
But he was not going to give up.
A soft knock on the study door interrupted his thoughts. The door opened, and his butler stepped in, his expression unusually grave.
“Your Grace, the Dowager Duchess is here,” he announced, his voice carefully neutral.
Christopher’s head snapped up, a frown darkening his features. “My mother?” he asked, surprised. “What is she doing here?”
He had told her to never return again the last time he had seen her.
The butler hesitated, sensing the tension in the air. “She insists on speaking with you, Your Grace. I informed her of the situation, but she was… insistent.”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed, a cold anger settling over him. “Tell her to leave,” he ordered curtly. “I have nothing to say to her.”
Before the butler could respond, Frances appeared in the doorway, her face pale but resolute. “Wait,” she said softly, stepping into the study. “I want to speak with her.”
Christopher turned to her. “Frances, why would you want to speak to her? She has no place here, especially now. I do not believe she will have anything kind to say, especially when she did not care when Peter died either.”
Frances took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. “I have a feeling she might know something. We need every bit of information we can get, and she might hold a piece of the puzzle.”
Christopher stared at her, shock evident on his face. “You think she knows something about the twins?”
Frances nodded. “It’s possible. She’s always been involved in matters of the estate, and she might have heard something. We can’t afford to overlook any possibility.”
Christopher’s jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was to allow his mother into their home, especially after the harm she had caused. But Frances’s logic was undeniable. They needed every possible lead.
He took a deep breath, then turned to the butler. “Very well. Escort her to the drawing room. We’ll speak with her there.”
The butler nodded and left the room, his footsteps echoing softly down the hall.
Christopher turned back to Frances. “Are you sure about this? She can be… difficult. You have not seen the worst of her yet.”
Frances reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I’m sure. We need to explore every option, and if she knows something that can help us find the boys, we have to hear it.”
Christopher squeezed her hand. “Alright,” he said quietly. “But you cannot be alone with her. I will be with you.”
Frances nodded, a small smile touching her lips despite the gravity of the situation. “Let us go see what she has to say.”
