“We will find her,” Mungo vowed, moving to the side table. He then poured a nip of whiskey and returned to hold it out to his brother. “You’ll drink this now.”
“Mungo Senior is trying to tell me something,” Alex said suddenly. “Do either of you”—he pointed from Calder to Mungo—“have anything that belonged to him on you?”
“And anything that belonged to Fenella?” Mrs. Fletcher added.
Calder Fraser dug in his pocket. He pulled out a small square of paper.
“My daughter wrote me this poem many years ago. I have carried it with me since.” He handed it to Mrs. Fletcher, and Eliza saw the faded pages were worn along the folds.
“I’ll return shortly,” Mungo said, leaving the room abruptly.
Eliza wondered where he had gone but did not have long to wait before he returned. In one hand, he held a long strip of leather that one would wear around the neck, a wide silver band hung from it—a ring.
She couldn’t make out the details clearly from her position several feet from Mungo, but saw that it was engraved.
“Tea, Miss Downing?”
Never take tea with members of the household in any setting, unless directed.
“Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher, but I will return to my duties.” She should have done that as soon as she’d finished giving them the information they requested. Mrs. Holton would be most displeased.
“I would like you to stay for the moment, if you please,” Detective Fletcher said.
Eliza wanted to ask why but knew it was not her place to question the man.
“This was my grandfather’s,” Mungo said.
“I wondered if you still had that, as it wasn’t on your finger,” Calder said to his brother.
“You think I’d sell it?”
“No, never that. I thought maybe you had lost it.”
Mungo didn’t acknowledge his brother’s reply, just dropped it into the outstretched hand. His eyes then found Eliza’s briefly before he looked away.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mungo moved to the window as the room fell silent. It put him near Eliza, but he didn’t care. Right then, he needed to see open space.
The sky was darkening, even at the early hour, bruised clouds sliding over each other as the first hints of night crept in. Lights filtered through the gloom as lamps were lit along the street and candles flickered in nearby windows. He could almost feel how cool the air would be on his skin were he to walk outside. Inhale a lungful of frigid air. Let it burn the tightness from his lungs.
There were too many people in the room, even with Anna, Fred, and Matilda having left. Mungo felt like someone had a fist clenched around his chest and was applying pressure every few seconds.
Fenella was missing.
His sweet niece was out there, and he didn’t know where.
Was she suffering? In pain or…. No. He blocked that thought. She was alive, and they would find her.Had to find her.
Looking at his brother, who was staring into the cup oftea Ivy had handed him, he felt like he’d woken this morning as he always had, ready to deal with life, and yes, the interruption Eliza Downing had put into it, and then everything had changed with his brother’s arrival and the disappearance of his niece.
He’d had control over his emotions for so long. Dealt with them through action because the Nightingales had needed him, and he’d thought that was enough. But now he felt like he was running toward something and could do nothing to halt the progress.
But he would.Had to.
He found Eliza Downing again. She was uncomfortable being in here and wanted to leave, but he knew Gray wasn’t done with her yet. Knew that she’d shortly be leaving the house with them to visit this tea shop in the hope that someone there knew something about Polly Watts. It was their only lead, unless the clairvoyants among them found another.
Fenella could not have made enemies in the time she was here, or she’d have told him. It made sense to him that her disappearance could be to do with the maid.
