“Some money, then,” George suggested. “We could open an account for you, and you could leave?—”
“Oh, George.” Anna smiled to fight the tears welling up in her eyes. “You are the sweetest, most selfless man I have ever met. But we both know that anything you try to do will only turn my father against you. And despite my frustration with Alicia at the moment, she was right. He would never let you live in peace if you helped me escape. Your life would be forfeit just like mine.”
“I feel so… useless. First Alicia, and now you.”
“Alicia is fine, and I will be too. She will find someone to marry, and perhaps she will have a chance at being genuinely happy.”
“No, she won’t. You don’t know what she’s done, Anna. If you did?—”
Suddenly, the front door swung open. George spun around, allowing Anna a clear view down the stairs. Her mother entered in her walking dress and hat, having returned from a promenade around Hyde Park. Beside her was Lady Jane, dressed in a multicolor fur pelisse and dripping with jewelry, as always.
“What have we stumbled upon here?” Lady Jane asked with delight, smiling up the stairs. “A little early for a call, young man. Where are your manners?”
“Desperate times…” George forced a happy expression and hurried down the stairs. He paused to greet the countess and Lady Jane properly while Anna watched on from afar. “You will have to excuse me. I was just leaving.”
Lady Jane tried to stop him from going, likely wanting to hear the latest gossip. However, George was too quick for her, rushing out of the door before any of them could register what had happened.
“Our George gains a title and suddenly he is too good for ahello,” Lady Jane said to Rosamund, before turning to Anna. “And just look at you, Anna! What has happened in this house?”
“I shall allow my mother to answer that,” Anna mumbled, dropping into a curtsey. She refused to meet Rosamund’s eyes. “And perhaps she might also tell you about the upcoming Ratley ball. By all accounts, it promises to be a most exciting evening…”
CHAPTER12
One Week Later
“Dear God, Elinor. What have you done?”
Philip raced into his sister’s room, his cravat hanging loosely around his neck. He had been in the middle of his preparations for the evening when a footman had come to him on behalf of Elinor’s maid.
His sister sat in the middle of her bedchambers, surrounded by her effects. The scene looked like a battlefield; she had ransacked the place.
A fire roared in the hearth, casting an orange glow over her madness. Jewelry, gowns, and books were scattered all around her. Open diaries, trunks, and trinket boxes—everything she had ever owned had been cast on the floor.
Philip crept inside on stockinged feet, avoiding what possessions he could. He reached a hand out to Elinor, pushing down his rising fear. Sobs were still erupting from her as she turned her red, swollen eyes up to him.
“I’ve lost it,” she sniffled. “Graham’s ring. His mother’s ring. It’s gone.”
“What?” Philip dropped into a crouch, placing a nervous hand on her back. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve merely misplaced it. We’ll find it.”
“No, Philip. It’sgone.” She cast her arm out wide, gesturing to the chaos around them. “Do you not think I would have found it by now? Look at this place. I must have dropped it somewhere outside or in one of the houses. I haven’t seen it for months. Oh, his poor ring…”
It was a painful sight. Philip could hardly bear to look at Elinor. She was in her night chemise, her dark hair tumbling down her back. How long had she been tearing her room apart? Her fingers were trembling, her nails broken intermittently. She dug them into her hair, rocking herself back and forth.
“It’s alright,” Philip soothed, cradling her in his arms. He hadn’t held Elinor like this since they were children. Maybe not even then. “It’s just a ring, Elinor. Even if we don’t find it. It’s just a ring.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she cried into his chest. “These things… These accursed things. They are all I have left of him. And that ring… I meant to give it to you, and…” She looked up at him, her cheeks stained with tears. “It’s all such a mess.”
Philip clenched his jaw, looking around them. There was nothing he could do to help her find it tonight—assuming it was still in the house. He vaguely recalled the ring she was talking about. It had been Graham’s mother’s wedding ring. The marchioness had passed it down to Elinor as a wedding gift. He didn’t know why Elinor wanted him to have it—perhaps so that he had more things of Graham’s to keep his memory alive.
“I’ll remain here with you,” he said, releasing her so that he could look at her. “We’ll have someone tidy your room, and in the meantime, you and I will go downstairs?—”
She shook her head, pushing him away gently. “I love you, but I don’t want a drink, and I don’t want to talk. I just want to find that ring.”
He must have looked pained, because Elinor quickly apologized.
“I appreciate you, brother. More than I can say.” She frowned, shaking her head. “But you have to go. I don’t want you to see me like this. And I especially don’t want you to becomethis—which you willif you start avoiding society. Just go. Things will be better when you return.”
He didn’t want to leave her in that state, but he feared that remaining would only make things worse. And there were other reasons he needed to go out tonight. Reasons he could not share with his sister.
