Surprisingly, in her mind’s eye, she pictured one of the portraits of Aunt Eleanor’s brother. Arthur? Yes, it was Arthur.
This day felt like a lifetime.
When she and Lady Sheffield left Garrett alone, she’d known he’d nearly been overcome by his emotions. What must it have been like to grow up without a mother? And then, seeing her artwork, Natalie had felt as though they’d all been given a glimpse of her soul. Garrett had likely experienced both joy and pain. Perhaps one day he could experience only joy—and pride—when in the presence of his mother’s work. Right now, it was too raw. Especially with the death of his father so recently.
Did Garrett mourn his father at all? Natalie did not think so. He must have mourned his father long ago, at a much younger age, when he’d realized the extent of his father’s depravity. What a horrifying childhood!
Garrett’s words regarding his father had been blunt. “He could be violent, and he could be oddly tender,” he’d said. “As a boy, I was terrified of him.”
He’d also told her he could never be a proper husband to her. Or anybody, she supposed. He would let the title go into abeyance. Tears, ah, at last her tears came. He would not allow himself to sire an heir. There would be no little boy running about with wicked black eyes, wiry strength, and a small dimple at the corner of his mouth. She pictured Garrett as he must have looked as a child.
And then bolted upright as something struck her. What was it? What was it?
Something about those drawings; something about those portraits.
Natalie needed to look at them again. Donning her dressing gown, she slipped into the hallway and headed for the stairway that would take her to the third floor.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? She needed to see now!
She dashed up the stairs and ran to the end of the corridor.The sight that met her upon bursting into the room, however, sent disappointment coursing through her. Garrett’s items had all been removed and the furnishings once again covered with clean white sheets. Oh, damnation! Of course! Garrett had already removed them. Where were they now?
On his baggage coach. She belatedly remembered seeing the large trunk strapped onto the back of the coach when returning from her ride. How stupid of her not to have thought about that first. Breathless, Natalie retraced her steps, descending all the way downstairs this time, and slipped out one of the back doors to head toward the stables.
As luck would have it, everybody was either dining or serving dinner. The stable hands must be taking their meal as well. Nobody witnessed her foray outside in such a state of dishabille. She ought to have gone back to her room and pulled on one of her day dresses, she admitted to herself, but this could not wait! She picked her way barefoot over the driveway and around to the back of the stable.
Yes! There it was. She stepped up and untied the knot securing the trunk to the carriage. Since it hadn’t been locked, the lid opened easily, but she couldn’t reach inside. It was too high. Hitching up her gown, she climbed all the way onto the carriage and stepped into the half-empty container. Where were they? She dropped to her hands and knees and shuffled the dresses around in search of the drawings.
There they were. She shuffled flipped through them until she found it.
She hadn’t been mistaken!
But what did it mean?
And then before she could contemplate her discovery, the lid of the trunk dropped. Sharp pain felled her as it struck the top of her head, pushing her down into the trunk. Stunned, she curled face down into the musty-smelling dresses.
Natalie lay still for a moment but for the hand she moved to rub the back of her head. With cautious fingers, she felt around in her hair where the lid had struck. Finding a wet and sticky spot, she flinched. She must be bleeding. Natalie didn’t like blood. Especially her own. The smell inside the musty old trunk wasn’t helping matters.
Even lying down, she felt dizzy and nauseous. Air. She needed air.
The lid must have been propped open precariously and then been unbalanced by her weight, causing it to close. But when she pushed against it, it did not move.
She pushed harder. It didn’t budge.
“Hello!” she cried out. Surely there was somebody nearby? “Hello,” she called out louder.
Panic crept into her. “Hello! Help me! Somebody!”
Her breathing felt shallow. She tried to take in a deep breath but could not.Oh, dear God, is this trunk airtight?Terror threatened to engulf her completely as tears overflowed. She pressed her entire body against the lid of the trunk but to no avail. She pushed with all her might. Again.
Again.
By now she was sweating profusely and gasping for breath. “Hello! Help me!” she yelled over and over, her voice growing hoarse.
She imagined Garrett opening the trunk to discover her dead, lifeless body within. She imagined her family and how they would react once learning of her death. They would not blame Garrett, would they?
Of course, they would! Especially after the words her father had spoken to her this afternoon! Her father would kill him! But he mustn’t!
Oh, dear God, she mustn’t die! She mustn’t allow Garrett to be labelled a murderer!
