Of course, he would have to know.
He’d jumped off the cliff with them long ago. Dev and Harold had not had a choice but to bring Prescott’s heir into the plan.
And he was goading his brother. As though he really would have Harold fall to his death. As though he really did wish Harold gone from his life.
Her dear, dear friend looked over at her and then began walking backwards.
She would remember his sweet face.
The challenges he’d endured.
“Heights be damned!” he shouted. And then he looked as though he lost his footing, and a flicker of true horror seemed to sweep over his features. Was he changing his mind? Did he wish to change his mind?
And then he was gone.
Sophia jumped to her feet and tried to scamper toward the cliff. Mr. White, however, acted quickly and grasped her from behind, keeping her from the edge.
“Good God, St. John! Is he all right? Good God!” Mr. White’s voice vibrated harshly behind her.
Sophia could not wrench herself out of the vicar’s arms, and then Rhoda was there, holding her as well. Sophia wanted to look down into the water. She knew she would not see anything. For he would have dove by now and found the tunnel.
But she still had the urge to look for him.
To know that he was safe.
This was such a nightmare. Had Harold changed his mind?
Had he jumped safely?
“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.” She did not realize it at first, but she was saying the words aloud. “Oh, God, Harold.” Her face was now pressed into Mr. White’s jacket.
To make matters worse, Sophia could not block out the screaming. An incessant screaming had emerged from Lady Caroline the moment Harold disappeared.
St. John abandoned the hysterical lady to look over the edge. “I don’t see him.” His voice was stoic, emotionless. He sent Lady Caroline an irritated frown and then turned again to peer off the edge of the cliff. “Justin,” he said, his voice breaking now, for all of a split second. “It’s impossible… the rocks…the tide… And there is no way up… no way for him to save himself.”
Perhaps the danger of Harold’s actions had affected him, even for only a moment. They were brothers, for God’s sake!
Sophia could not break free, even when Mr. White loosened his grip slightly. “Hold her.” He pushed Sophia into Rhoda’s arms. “I’ll see if I can climb down.”
“No!” Both Sophia and St. John shouted the words at the same time.
It was then that Sophia was able to drop to her hands and knees and crawl to the edge. “Harold!” she called, “Harold!” Her tears were not feigned. Her cries were not forced.
“It is too steep,” St. John said even as the vicar removed his jacket.
“Please, don’t. Oh, please do not!” This from Rhoda.
Mr. White stood beside Sophia and studied the water and then crouched down beside her. “Don’t give up hope, my lady,” he said. “We will bring out some ropes, more men. We can go down and see if he has perhaps found some safe place to swim to. Perhaps he can swim around to the beach.” His hand landed on her shoulder. “Please, don’t give up hope.”
But she heard the hopelessness in his voice.
Sophia was then led back to the castle by Rhoda and Lady Caroline, who’d finally stopped her constant screaming. Mr. White provided escort while St. John went in seek of help.
The vicar was adamant a search begin as quickly as possible. St. John agreed, but seemed to do so reluctantly. He maintained that Harold could never have survived the fall.
A virtual army went out shortly after that, of servants, relatives and neighbors.
Sophia was taken to her room.
