Even as she instructed her mind to be still, her heart was screaming, and within her, anger raged.
Anger at the criminal who abducted her baby.
Anger at Roland for his selfish recklessness and his disregard for the safety and well-being of those who depended on him.
Anger at herself. What sort of mother would sleep through someone kidnapping her child?
Anger at the watchmen. How did yet another person come onto the property and invade her very chamber, no less?
Every decision she had made since Roland’s death had been for Henry’s safety and security, including her decision to allow Mr.Walstead’s men to escort them to Hollythorne House. Clearly, she had made a grievous mistake.
She reached Sutcliffe’s small attic chamber and flung openthe door. She hurried to the bed and shook her maid’s shoulders. “Sutcliffe! Sutcliffe, wake up. Wake up!”
Sutcliffe rolled over, her gray eyes sleepy and her golden hair wild beneath a linen sleeping cap. “What is it?”
“Someone has taken Henry. He’s gone! You must get up.”
Sutcliffe bolted upright in bed. “What?”
“Someone abducted him while I was sleeping.” She pulled the blankets away so Sutcliffe could move quickly.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Rebecca? You know how she takes him down to the kitchen when he can’t sleep.”
“No, there was a letter. Remember those emeralds we found in my case? That is what whoever took Henry wants. Mr.Walstead said they were valuable. Something called the King’s Prize.”
Charlotte’s frustration grew as Sutcliffe’s pace did not increase. Charlotte reached for Sutcliffe’s dressing gown, hanging on a hook next to the chamber’s only window. “Why are you moving so slowly?”
Sutcliffe shook her head and pulled off her sleeping cap, her face twisted in odd confusion, as if attempting to comprehend what she was hearing, and reached to accept the wool dressing gown. “I didn’t think the emeralds were significant.”
Ice trickled through Charlotte’s veins. Sutcliffe was notoriously bad at lying, and her current expression and uncharacteristically timid movements spoke volumes. “Did you tell anyone about the emeralds? About where we hid them?”
Sutcliffe pushed her hair from her face and hesitated.
“Did you?” Charlotte demanded, her patience growing thin.
“Only Mr. Timmons. But I did not tell him where they were! I only said we found some emeralds, that’s all.”
Charlotte felt as if she would be sick.
“But it was not him, surely!” The maid scurried from the bed, suddenly animated. “He would never do such a thing. He only asked me about the jewelry I was selling in Leeds, and the emeralds came up in conversation. Honestly, I did not know they were important!”
Indignation, fueled by shock, flared red hot. “How dare you discuss my personal concerns with anyone! And you think after a couple of weeks that you know Mr.Timmons’s character so well to believe him completely incapable of a devious act?”
Tears pooled in Sutcliffe’s eyes. “I-I...”
Charlotte refused to give in to tears again and she would not abide it in anyone else, not when there was much to do. “Hurry and dress. Mr.Welbourne wants us to assemble in the kitchen so we can decide our next course of action.”
Charlotte left Sutcliffe in her chamber and made her way down to the kitchen. She felt as if the floor were going to shift beneath her, or as if she would awaken at any moment to find this experience naught but a nightmare. And yet she’d witnessed so many difficult situations she never could have possibly dreamed she would encounter—each one more incredulous and terrifying than the last.
This had to end—life would surely have to right itself soon. Shewouldget Henry back. Theywouldhave a good life. And shewouldprotect him.
***
Anthony raced out into the dawn and scrambled to put the pieces together. Broadstreet should have been at the main staircase.
He was not.
Timmons and Ames should be on the grounds. But neither could be seen from the mist-laden courtyard.
