The morning of the wedding
Olivia kept to her usual pattern on her wedding morning and began by taking Marguerite to the small park adjoining the town house. It was only when the Lady Leighton arrived to oversee final preparations that her absence was noted.
Marcus and Colin arrived while the house staff searched every corner of the house trying to find her. He worked out that his bride was missing and had been for more than two hours.
“She should have been backages ago,” said Ellen. “I know she’s felt tired in recent days, so I let her sleep. I just went to wake her, and she isn’t there.
“She’s gone? Ellen, listen this is important. Do you think she has been missing since early morning?” asked Marcus.
“Since the time of her early morning walk in the park. She’s disappeared and so has Marguerite,” replied Ellen.
Lady Leighton slumped down in a chair. “Send a search party out to the park. Jocelyn, can you search her room. We have to find her and every second counts.”
Lord Riversmead sat opposite, grave concern etched across his face.
“Mrs. Jennings, please arrange for a message to be sent to Tewkesbury Crescent to alert the party there to a delay,” Marcus commanded.
“Where is she? This is so unlike her.” said Jocelyn.
“She can’t just have vanished into thin air.” said Marcus.
They heard voices in the hall and an ashen faced Mrs. Jennings came in carrying Marguerite in her arms. “Look who they found, in the park, wandering round on her own.”
“Somebody has snatched her from the park,” said Marcus with certainty.
A quiet knock on the door, and a footman handed a letter to Lord Riversmead, who tore open the seal and read the contents, before handing it to Lady Leighton.
“This says that Olivia is sorry, but she has called off the wedding, because she cannot go through with marrying Marcus, when her heart belongs to Sir Jonathan Ellington,” read Lady Leighton.
Looking at Marcus she continued, without taking a breath. “Marcus, I am going to tell you now that knowing my friend, I do not believe a word of this utter tripe, this gobbledygook.”
Jocelyn seized the parchment, scanning the words. “She didn’t write it.”
“What do you mean?” asked her uncle.
“Look, this is not how Olivia writes her letters. She always puts a little flick on her O’s and a flourish on her F’s. She’s always been a stickler for her signature being individual. That’s one thing.
“Also, when I was little, we spent ages devising a signature for me, so I could write Jocelyn in a unique way. Olivia always uses that signature when she writes my name. It’s a special thing between us. This looks nothing like the way in which she writes my name. Even the ‘J’ lacks any flourish,” she continued.
Jocelyn kept staring at the content of the letter.
“She never calls uncle, ‘the earl’, she always calls him Uncle Harold. It’s a small thing, but it’s significant,” she added.
“And finally, she dislikes Sir Jonathan intensely since he wrote that letter to Marcus, where he claimed she still loved him. Evenif she called off her engagement with you Marcus, there is no way she would go back to that weasel.” Jocelyn took a deep breath and looked around the group.
“This letter,” and she held it up in the air, “is absolute poppycock. This, however, written a day ago says what she thinks. It is very private, and I hesitated before looking in her journal, but she may be in danger.”
Jocelyn handed the diary to Lady Leighton who began to read, while Jocelyn continued. “She loves you, Marcus. It is clear that she is in love and looking forward to the wedding day.”
“I believe I can share this with you,” said Lady Leighton, giving the book to Marcus.
He took it and went over to the writing desk to read the words alone.
As her indignation drained away, Jocelyn looked scared. “Someone has taken Olivia. She’s been seized on the street, or in the park. She goes there every morning, so it would not be difficult to set a trap.”
Marcus returned, cold rage etched on his face. “We have to find her. Time is of the essence. I agree with Jocelyn. Olivia has been kidnapped and the chief suspect has to be Sir Jonathan. He showed his true colors in that letter he wrote to me, claiming that she still loved him.”
Lord Leighton stepped forward. “Mrs. Jennings, send one of the footmen, no, better send two of the footmen, to keep watch on Sir Jonathan’s house. He is not an intelligent man, so in all likelihood he has taken Olivia there.”
