Mrs. Hemsley’s face didn’t change, but something inside her posture did. She folded the towel over one hand with quiet precision.
“I see,” she said.
“This is Mr. Everly,” Eliza added, gesturing behind her. “A friend. He was kind enough to accompany me back.”
Everly inclined his head. “Your servant, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hemsley nodded once, calm but polite. “We’ve not seen Lady Ravenstock since she left the house. She said she would be meeting you.”
“She was meant to,” Eliza said, voice rising just a note. “And she never arrived.”
“Perhaps she returned without saying—”
“I checked her room. I checked the study. The staff says she hasn’t come back,” Mrs. Hemsley cut in, not harshly, but with that clipped tone that came when she was already five steps ahead in her thoughts.
They stood in a triangle of silence near the drawing room door.
Everly’s voice broke the silence first. “Would it be forward of me to offer assistance? I know the town and its people rather well. If you’d like someone to make quiet inquiries, I’d be glad to help.”
Mrs. Hemsley glanced at him. “Your concern is appreciated.”
“She may simply have lost track of the time,” Eliza offered, though her tone betrayed that even she no longer believed it. “She had a note to send this morning. Perhaps she’s gone to speak with someone about Rowland’s estate.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Hemsley agreed softly. “Or perhaps something else entirely.”
A footman appeared at the end of the corridor. “Shall I inform Lord Barrington and Lord Weld, ma’am?”
Mrs. Hemsley nodded. “At once.”
Eliza turned toward the front window. The sun was beginning its downward arc.
“I can’t explain it,” she said. “But it’s not like her.”
“No,” Mrs. Hemsley agreed again. “It isn’t.”
The drawing room had gone still. Eliza stood by the window, one gloved hand pressed lightly to the drape, watching the shadows lengthen across the drive.
“I should have remained there longer,” she murmured.
“You waited long enough,” Mrs. Hemsley replied. “If she meant to meet you, she would have been there. She’s not careless.”
Everly was seated near the hearth, perfectly at ease. He had offered to take another look in town, but Mrs. Hemsley had waved him off with quiet authority. “There’s no use hunting shadows,” she’d said. “Not until we know where to look.”
Eliza turned from the window. “You don’t think she’s simply… decided to take a detour?”
“I think she’s been gone too long without explanation.”
That was when Mrs. Hemsley moved, quietly, deliberately, toward the corridor that led to the study.
“She spent time in there this morning,” she said over her shoulder. “Didn’t say what, but if she left a trace, it will be in that room.”
Eliza followed her with her eyes but didn’t speak.
Ten minutes passed. The wind stirred again outside. Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked. It was an ordinary house sound that was now too loud.
Then Mrs. Hemsley returned, a scrap of crumpled paper in hand.
“I found this in the wastebasket,” she said, holding it out.
