She wrapped her hands around her body which was shaking uncontrollably. Her teeth began to chatter as she looked around her for any kind of landmark. She could see nothing beyond the road the carriage had raced away along. She attempted to follow its tracks but as she set off it began to rain and within minutes the wheelmarks had faded into the thick mud of the poor quality trackway. She stopped, her feet numb, her hands burning with cold. “What do I do now?” she asked out loud.
Chapter 14
Edward rode as fast as he could. He had expected to catch up with the carriage containing Laura and Lady Rothsfield but he had not done so by the time he reached Rothsfield House. He cursed his stable boy for the time it had taken to prepare his horse. They must already be inside.
By the time he had set off, he was worried. It was not just the fact that someone had provided Lady Rothsfield with detailed information as to his teaching methods. That was a concern and something to be dealt with at the first opportunity. But far more importantly was the fact that Laura was being taken from him, perhaps never to return. He could not allow that.
All his life, he realised as he rode, he had wanted a perfect little to be his wife. Someone who would submit to him willingly but keep their spirit, a paradox he felt no one could ever reconcile. His last partner had tried but her defiance had led her to cheat on him. But with Laura, he felt, it was different. She would not cheat. He could see it in her eyes. She loved him. He knew she did.
Once he reached the house, he tied up his horse and ran up the steps, pulling at the bell several times before it was answered by an ancient butler. “Yes sir?”
“I must see Lord Rothsfield at once.”
“I am afraid his Lordship is not seeing visitors at the moment. If you would like to leave your calling card, I shall…”
“Oh, to hell with you!” He shoved the butler aside and marched into the house. Striding through the hallway he found his quarry in his study, writing at his desk.
“Lord Rothsfield,” he said, stepping inside. “I must speak to you.”
“If it is about my daughter, she is your problem now. I have paid for the treatment and it is your concern if she rebels, not mine.”
“No,” Edward said, shaking his head. “It is nothing like that. I will be blunt sir. I love your daughter. I would respectfully like to request her hand in marriage.”
Lord Rothsfield leaned back in his chair. “Good God sir. Do you know what you are letting yourself in for?”
“I do.”
“Then I accept. There will be those that grumble but none of them would want her so they can whistle as far as I am concerned. I thought no one would ever take her on. Now, I suppose you will want to get back and give her the news that I have accepted?”
“Get back?”
“To Laura.”
“She is not here?”
Lord Rothsfield blinked in surprise. “Here? Of course she is not here. She is with you.”
Edward reacted quickly, doing his best to keep his expression under control. “Of course she is. Well thank you my Lord for your consent in this matter. I will let you know once her treatment is finished.”
“Good man.”
Edward shook the outstretched hand of Lord Rothsfield before walking out of the house, passing by the butler who still appeared to be recovering from being pushed out of the way. Once the horse was untied, Edward climbed on and rode away, thinking hard. If Laura was not at the house then where on earth was she? Lady Rothsfield had given him to believe she was going home. Where else would she go?
Turning his horse out into the countryside, he rode back home, arriving shortly after nightfall. He walked into the house and called for Mrs Flanders, asking if she had seen Laura.
“No Mr Westall, I assumed she had returned home.”
“As did I. I must go look for her. Tell the littles there will be no bedtime story from me tonight.”
“Of course.”
As he left the house it began to rain, his horse grumbling as it was pulled away from its evening meal. “Where to go?” he said out loud as he rode out of the grounds. Where would Lady Rothsfield have gone?
He spent half the night searching the surrounding villages, calling into each tavern he passed to see if any had seen her or the carriage. It was all to no avail. The rain grew steadily heavier as he travelled further into the countryside until not a single pinprick of light could be seen.
He was slumping down in his seat, the rain running down the back of his neck, when his horse stopped dead. He flicked the reins and nudged its sides with his feet but still it did not move. “What is it girl?” he asked, looking around him. “Come on, get moving.”