“No doubt,” Julian replied, returning the smile. “Where’s Papa?”
“He said to meet him in the stables.”
The anticipation lasted almost three hours, which included a brief Yorkshire downpour on the way back to Highfield Hall that soaked horse and rider. Fortunately, Annie’s letter was saved by being tucked against Julian’s heart. Obliged to change out of his damp clothes, he found himself alone, at last, in the privacy of his room. Having stripped off, he put on his robe, settled onto his bed and, acknowledging the pleasure of his anticipation, opened the letter.
The first paragraph alone was enough to halt his breath. By the time he’d reached the end of the short epistle, his mind was in a spin, his heart thudding hard against his ribs. He read the words again and again, his mind hearing Annie’s voice as she spoke them, his eyes noting the telltale flutter in her penmanship. Obviously, her hand had trembled as she’d written the words. Harsh words. Unfeeling.
And unquestionably fabricated.
That conclusion was not arrived at through vanity or pride. Though their time together had been comparatively brief, Julian knew Annie as he knew himself. Her anguish showed plainly in her stilted voice and the tremor in her hand. Something had happened. Something had made her turn away from him. He cursed the miles that lay between them, for he was at once desperate to see her, to speak to her face-to-face. To find out what, or who, had forced her hand. A name came to mind. A faceless name. And he could hardly bear to think of what it might mean. It occurred to him she might have returned to London, since she’d hinted at it. He hoped not. In any case, his first priority was to return to Ferndale Grange, and as soon as possible.
“Sorry, my love,” he muttered, pulling on some dry clothes. “But no, I will not respect your request, nor will I defer.”
*
“But you onlyjust got home,” Grace said, a little later, having heard Julian’s announcement he’d be leaving for Derbyshire immediately. “What is this about? Is Annie unwell? Has something happened?”
“No, I don’t think she’s unwell, Mama,” Julian replied. “But something is definitely wrong.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Julian shook his head. “I cannot, I’m afraid, which is why I must leave. I need to find out what is going on. I need to speak to her.”
Aldous cleared his throat. “You know, it occurs to me that this is the second time you’ve gone looking for this young woman due to ambiguous circumstances. And while it is, of course, your business, I would appreciate an honest answer to one question. Might any of these circumstances cast doubt on the integrity of our family?”
Julian thought but a second before responding. “I don’t believe so, Papa. If that were the case, I would tell you, of course.”
Aldous gave a nod. “That’s all I needed to hear. Then I hope you get whatever it is sorted out. If you need me, let me know, and give my regards to your aunt and uncle.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Julian replied. “But actually, I’ve decided not to stay at Myddleton for the reason you just mentioned. Until I find out what is going on, I’d rather keep things within our immediate family.”
“Not a bad idea.” Aldous frowned. “So where will you stay?”
“The Black Horse, probably. Failing that, The Rose and Crown.”
“Right,” Aldous said, still frowning. “Well, I hope this young lady is worth whatever this latest issue is.”
“I believe she is, Papa,” Julian said. “And I have a suspicion as to the actual problem, but it’s all speculation at the moment. I’ll explain everything when I’m able.”
“I’m sure you will,” Grace said. “Just be careful, Julian. And give my regards to Annie.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Julian slid fromthe saddle and tethered his horse at the gatepost. A pellet of rain struck his face as he opened the gate and approached the blue-painted door of Ferndale Grange. By the time he stepped into the porch and rapped on the door, the rain had begun in earnest. If he believed in omens, he might have taken it as a bad sign. He thrust the foolish thought aside and tried to ignore a sudden sense of unease.
The door opened and he found himself greeted by a gasp from Hattie Henshaw. “Mr. Northcott!”
“Good day to you, Mrs. Henshaw,” he said, removing his hat. “Forgive the intrusion. I’m hoping I might speak with Miss Fairfax, assuming she’s at home?”
To his surprise and dismay, the woman’s eyes filled with tears as she opened the door wider. “Annie isn’t here, I’m afraid,” she said, “but come in, please.”
Disappointment soured Julian’s stomach as he stepped into the hallway. “She isn’t here?”
The woman shook her head. “She went back to London last Tuesday. I must assume you received her letter.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he replied, noting the dark shadows beneath the woman’s eyes.
Her expression slackened as she parted with a breath that implied relief. “We’ve been praying you’d come. You must have questions.”
