Frances watched Teresa leave and then turned to Christopher, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear.
Teresa did not waste a moment longer in the estate and left immediately. Her visit, however, left them with more questions than answers.
Christopher had not uttered a single word. He seemed to be beating himself up still, his guilt likely worsened by the Dowager Duchess’s accusations. But Frances knew that they had to discuss the matter.
She turned to him, her eyes searching his face. “Do you believe her?” she asked quietly. “You know her better than I do. Do you think she’s telling the truth about the letter?”
Christopher exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the door through which his mother had just exited.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low. “My mother has always been manipulative. She thrives on control and deceit. But…” He paused, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But it does seem plausible. An anonymous letter warning of trouble… it fits what happened. And it’s just like her to dismiss something that doesn’t immediately affect her.”
Frances nodded, trying to understand his feelings. “She could be lying,” she said softly, “or exaggerating to cover her tracks. But what if she’s not? What if she genuinely didn’t think it was important?”
Christopher looked at her, his eyes flashing with frustration. “I can’t say for certain. She’s lied so many times before. But dismissing this letter seems almost too careless, even for her. Especially if it was about her own grandsons.”
Frances sighed, rubbing her temples. “If she knew something more and chose not to act, then it’s unforgivable. But we have to consider every possibility. What did the letter say exactly?”
Christopher joined her, sitting on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped together. “She said it mentioned a man who might try to take the twins. But she didn’t give any specifics. It was vague, and she claimed she didn’t see it as a credible threat.”
Frances frowned. “Why would someone send an anonymous warning? And why to her? It doesn’t make sense.”
Christopher shook his head. “I don’t know. But we can’t ignore it. If there’s even a chance that the letter holds a clue, we need to find out more.”
Frances looked at him, a spark of determination flickering in her eyes. “Do you think she still has it? The letter?”
“It’s possible. She tends to keep anything she thinks might be useful later. We could send someone to her residence to look for it.”
Frances nodded, feeling a surge of hope. “If we can get our hands on that letter, maybe we can find something she overlooked. Even a small detail could lead us to the boys.”
Christopher’s expression hardened with resolve. “I’ll send a trusted servant to retrieve it. We can’t let any potential lead slip through our fingers.”
He stood up, reaching for the bell to summon the butler, but then he paused to look at Frances. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude, “for thinking clearly, for being strong. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Frances rose and moved to his side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “We’re in this together, remember?” she said, her voice firm yet tender.
All they had at this moment was each other, and it was important that they stuck together.
A few moments later, the butler entered the room, bowing slightly. “Your Grace, how may I assist you?”
Christopher turned to him with a serious expression. There was no room for doubt that he meant business.
“I need you to go to my mother’s estate immediately. She mentioned receiving a letter a few days ago—an anonymous warning. I want you to find that letter and bring it back here. Be discreet. It’s crucial that we get it without causing alarm.”
The butler nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll leave at once.”
As he left to carry out his orders, Frances and Christopher exchanged a hopeful glance.
“Maybe he will find something useful?”
“Or maybe not,” Christopher muttered.
“But even so, the authorities are now involved too. This has become a high-importance case. Whoever has taken them must know by now that we are in relentless pursuit.”
Christopher nodded. Her words seemed to have calmed him down, if only slightly.
The afternoon turned into evening, the household filled with tense anticipation as they awaited the butler’s return.
As dusk began to fall, the sound of hurried footsteps approached the drawing room. The butler finally entered, his expression grave but determined. In his hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper.
