“Everyone’s back except for Mr. Sheridan’s group and Knighton’s,” she said tremulously.
Knighton had delayed his departure to help look for Fancy, and Wick was grateful. They needed all the help they could get. With each passing moment, the chances of Fancy’s survival grew dimmer.
“I don’t know what to do, where else to look.” Bea swallowed. “I can’t bear to think of Fancy alone and afraid somewhere or even worse…”
Her voice broke, and he put an arm around her waist, drawing her close.
“Keep your chin up, for Fancy’s sake,” he said.
“I’m trying, but I’m scared, Wick,” she whispered. “What if her disappearance is related to the fire, that threatening note? She could be in terrible danger…and it’s my fault.”
“Even if Fancy’s disappearance is related to those other threats, there’s nothing you could have done.” He headed her off at the pass. “You are not responsible for whoever is carrying out these heinous acts.”
“Iamresponsible for the welfare of all who live at Camden Manor. And if someone is trying to hurt me by harming those I care about, then thisismy fault. Fancy is my best friend. I should have made sure that she understood the danger, that she had an escort, but instead I was distracted by…”
She bit her lip, but he knew.
“By me. Is that what you were going to say?” he asked.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said, her voice quivering.
He tipped up her chin. “It’s all right if you did. But you’re wrong, you know. Your happiness has nothing to do with Fancy’s disappearance.”
“I…I know. You’re right. But the thought of something happening to her…” Her gaze went past him to the window. At her widening eyes, he turned to see what she was looking at.
Knighton’s carriage had pulled up to the house. He was getting out.
With Fancy Sheridan in his arms.
“Fancy,” Beatrice breathed. “Oh, thank God!”
An instant later, she was running for the door, Wick following behind her.
* * *
“I’m fine, Bea,” Fancy murmured sleepily. “Stop fretting. I just need me rest…”
The laudanum that the physician had given Fancy took effect, and she drifted off. Gently, Bea brushed a strand of hair off her bosom chum’s cheek. As her fingers trailed over the angry purple swelling at Fancy’s temple, her chest burned.
Who did this to Fancy and why?she thought with helpless rage.
Tucking the coverlet around her sleeping friend, she left the guest bedchamber and went to the family parlor where Wick, the Duke of Knighton, and Mr. Sheridan were waiting. Wick and the duke were in the wingchairs by the fire, while Fancy’s papa had the divan. They all rose when Bea came in.
“Fancy’s asleep now,” Bea told them.
She joined Mr. Sheridan on the divan. Seeing the anxious furrows on the tinker’s brow and his ashen cheeks above his beard, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“The physician said that rest is good for her,” she assured him. “He did a thorough examination, and the bruise on the temple and chafing at her wrists were the only injuries he found. He said no permanent damage was done and that she ought to be right as rain after a few days.”
She felt the swell of relief in the room, a collective breath releasing. No one said anything, but it was in all their minds. Despite the trauma Fancy had suffered, she had been lucky: what happened to her could have been far, far worse.
“Who would do such a thing to me Fancy?” Mr. Sheridan asked, his blue eyes bewildered. “She’s a good girl, never done ’arm to a fly.”
“Fancy didn’t do anything to deserve this,” Bea said tersely. “It’s my fault.”
Earlier, Knighton had given a brief account of how he’d found Fancy. He and his team had been scouring the woods that straddled Bea and Squire Crombie’s properties when he’d heard muffled sounds. He’d followed them to Fancy, who’d been gagged and bound to a tree.
Terrified, the girl didn’t know how long she’d been there, only that she’d been on her way home last night when she’d heard a noise behind her. She’d reacted too late: something had hit her on the side of her head, and everything had gone dark. When she’d awakened, she’d been in the forest, tied to the tree.
