“I . . .” I turned back to the mirror, gazing at the reflection of the young man I’d become. But that young man could barely bring himself to meet my gaze. He glanced away and found Nanny’s unwavering questions staring at him through the glass.
“Look at me, Emma.” She waited until I turned back around before continuing. “If you can’t tell me the answer, at least tell yourself.”
The tops of my leather work boots suddenly became fascinating, and I fell to studying them. I knew the answer to Nanny’s question, but in rushing around today to try to find some trace of Consuelo, I’d managed to avoid the truth.
I felt responsible—wholly responsible. I couldn’t help thinking that if I hadn’t betrayed her yesterday, if I hadn’t taken her mother’s side in trying to persuade her to see the sense in marrying the Duke of Marlborough, she might now be safely tucked away in her bedroom. I’d tried to believe my encouragement had been for the best, to help her face the unavoidable future bravely, but, oh, how my words must have singed Consuelo’s heart. That I, her older cousin, should take her mother’s side . . . should do anything other than fight for what she wanted . . . She’d trusted me, confided in me, and I had let her down completely. How devastated she must have been. How utterly bereft and alone.
“I have to do this, Nanny,” I whispered. “If anything happens to Consuelo, it’ll be my fault.”
Nanny shook her head, her expression as serious as I’d ever seen it. “No, Emma. It won’t be your fault. It might be her mother’s fault, or her father’s, or the fault of this man who wants to marry her for her money, or . . . and don’t turn away again . . . but Consuelo isn’t necessarily blameless in all of this either.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? If she did run off, shouldn’t she take responsibility for her own actions?”
“She’s a frightened girl, practically a child . . .”
Nanny’s eyebrow rose. “If you believe that, aren’t you treating her just like her mother does? Like a beautiful but empty-headed doll?”
Was I? An answer prodded, but it wasn’t one I liked to acknowledge. “Either way, I can’t simply forget all about what happened. I can’t go on with my everyday life with my cousin out there somewhere, missing and possibly traumatized.”
“No.” Nanny sighed and perused me with an assessing look. “I don’t suppose you can.”
She knew me far too well to continue arguing with me. I went to her and leaned down to deposit a kiss on her cheek. Her soft skin smelled of lavender and I breathed in the fragrance, the sense of comfort I’d known since my earliest days bolstering my determination. Unfortunately, being the source of my stubborn courage probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
“Don’t worry, Nanny dear. I’ll be careful, and I’ll be home before you know it. Promise.”
That only brought a frown. “And if you’re not?”
“Then send the cavalry.” Standing straight, I touched two fingers to my cap brim and headed for the door.
“I’ll do that,” she mumbled to my back.
Some twenty minutes later, I brought my rig to a stop at the end of Walnut Street, near the train tracks that separated the street from the cemetery beyond it. My old home sat a few dozen yards away. We rented out the first two floors and Brady, when not staying with me or working in New York with our relatives, occupied the garret apartment. Tonight the windows were dark but for a glow on the ground floor overlooking the back garden. I set the brake and slipped the straps of Barney’s feedbag over his head. That would keep him contented until my return. I didn’t worry for his safety or about the prospect of someone stealing the carriage. Such crimes occurred rarely on the island, for any thief would be caught long before he could make his getaway on the morning ferry.
With the unaccustomed sensation of trousers encasing my legs and producing a disconcerting woof-woof sound as I walked, I proceeded toward the harbor. There I discovered Nanny’s cautions were unfounded; the McPaddens’ rowboat appeared sound enough, drifting to the length of its twine from the short dock behind their house. All appeared quiet in the house. Noiselessly I made my way across the weathered planks, went down on one knee, and reached to tug the boat closer through the blackened water. Out in the bay the Rose Light burned brightly, a beacon to warn incoming ships away from the dangerous shoals near the shoreline.
A thwack of boots hitting the timbers behind me nearly sent me tumbling head over heels into the water. I’d barely caught my balance—and caught a splinter in my middle finger—when a stern voice sent my heartbeat careening.