The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

  Dedication

  For my daughter, Audrey

  The girl with an endless zest for life, a wicked humor, and a deep compassion for others.

  I thank God every day He allowed me to be your mother as well as your friend.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Acclaim for Abigail Wilson

  Also by Abigail Wilson

  Copyright

  Prologue

  1811

  Kent, England

  Village of East Whitloe

  “Foolish. Impetuous. Risky. You needn’t hold back now, Piers. I know precisely what’s ticking in that mind of yours.”

  I forced my shoulders back against the bark of the oak tree where I’d spent the last few interminable hours shivering. Even the slightest movement of my hurt ankle caused knives to twist beneath my skin.

  Piers Cavanagh merely shook his head as he looked over my injury. “I simply cannot deduce how the devil this happened. First off, it’s nigh five in the morning. Second, I was under the distinct impression you were to return home this afternoon.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Believe me, I’ve been counting down the hours till I would see you again, and I’m certain it was to be later today.”

  I threw my hands up, regretting the action at once as I winced. “I haven’t the foggiest idea how the date of my arrival became confused. I was always to return on the seventeenth of March. Do you know, no one was sent to the coaching house last night to bring my maid and me home to Flitworth Manor. What a pickle we were in.”

  Having finished pawing at my ankle, Piers moved his hand to my resting fingers, his gaze following suit. “Yet here you sit with all the signs of a battered ankle. Thank goodness the bruising isn’t worse.”

  “I admit my decision to borrow a few hacks and set out on the journey ourselves turned out to be a poor one. I was thrown . . . the little beast.”

  His eyes shot to mine. “Do you mean to tell me you left the coaching house on your own with no escort but your maid?”

  “Don’t scold me. I daresay I’ve paid enough for my foolishness. I was just so anxious to see you again.” I tipped my head back. “’Pon my word, the last thing I wanted to do was to waste one solitary hour apart from you when I’m to be dragged out of the country tomorrow morning. Oh, Piers. I still cannot believe my family’s move is actually happening . . . and so suddenly at that. My parents were quite devious to send me away to my cousin’s house while they worked out all the details. I can’t even begin to tell you how many miles Ceylon is from here.”

  Piers sighed. “A little over five thousand. I checked.”

  My heart squeezed, but I lifted my chin. Secret romance or not, surely no distance, however great, would squelch what Piers and I had discovered only a few months before. I toyed with the edge of my lip.

  At least we would have letters. Really, all I had to do was wait for his proper proposal, and I would be whisked back to Britain and into Piers Cavanagh’s waiting arms. If only his mother hadn’t already decided on Honora Gervey for a daughter-in-law, this whole ridiculousness could have been avoided. Engagements entered into by parents at the infants’ cribs rarely came to fruition, particularly when the parties involved had little interest in each other.

  He squeezed my hand, a wry smile inching across his face. “And you’re absolutely right. We haven’t any time to lose.” He rearranged his position on the ground, then leaned in close, pausing only at the last second to flick his eyes to the road. “Where exactly is your maid again?”

  “I sent her for help hours ago.”

  He ran his finger down my hairline and around my ear, his deep blue eyes as alive as I’d seen them a week ago. “How I’ve missed you, Charity Halliwell.”

  Careful of my ankle, he closed the gap between us, pressing his lips to mine.

  I melted forward, numb to the aching world beyond his kiss. There was no one in Britain like Piers Cavanagh, and he’d given his heart to me and me alone.

  Suddenly he pulled away, fumbling for his pocket watch; his cheeks still slightly pink. “It’s getting late.”

  A gust of wind rumpled his brown locks and made over his face. Disquiet filling his eyes, he turned to the road like he’d seen a ghost. “Do you think you can ride?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He ran a hand down his chin, a gasp of frustration on his breath. “It will be slow going either way. You’ve picked the deuce of a morning to have an accident.”

  I rubbed a chill from my arm. “You won’t leave me to get help, will you? I’ve been alone in the dark for so long now. I’m certain I can manage with your assistance. In fact”—I moved to stand—“I know I can.”

  He hung his head, a curious tension filling the air between us. “All night, huh? You had to have been out here all night. What were you thinking, Charity?”

  “I told you. How could I have known the horse would be so careless?” Nerves prickled down my back. What did it matter now? He was here. I was safe.

  Another wayward glance down the road was followed by a difficult lapse into silence. I’d always been able to read Piers like an open book, but this odd intensity was nothing short of alarming. Had something happened in the week I’d been away?

  He pushed into a squatting position. “Let’s get you the rest of the way onto your good foot.” One hand on my arm and another at my back, he tugged me effortlessly to a standing position. I would have been lying if I said the movement didn’t send my leg throbbing, but I hardly noticed as I was lost in Piers’s strange behavior, my mind afire to figure out what was wrong.

  He placed his arm beneath mine, bracing me against his side, his other hand securing his horse’s reins. “One hop at a time, and I suppose we’ll get to Loxby Manor eventually.”

  I looked up into his troubled eyes. “What is it?”

  He responded simply by pulling me close. “My estate is the closest by far. Don’t worry, we’ll fetch the doctor from there. I would never dream of leaving you.” Then almost to himself, “Everything will work out.” He pressed his lips together. “I have faith that it will.”

  He gave me a wan smile, but I’ll never forget the look in his eyes, like he knew something I did not, like he’d lost something he knew he might never get back.

  Chapter 1

  Five years later, 1816

  I knew something was terribly wrong the moment I stepped foot back inside Loxby Manor—the pervasive restlessness of the servants, the strained silence of the front room.

  I’d spent much of my childhood visiting its inhabitants, but my pace turned tentative as I peered in each open doorway of the ancient house, searching for the telltale presence of a coffin, for I could have sworn I’d stumbled upon
the start of a funeral.

  The Cavanagh’s elderly butler, Mr. Baker, whom I remembered all too well, emerged from the shadows of a distant hall. The candelabra in his hand lit a familiar, but rather disturbed face.

  “Ah, Miss Halliwell . . . There you are. If you would be so good as to follow me to your room.” He hid the remains of a grimace as he motioned to the grand staircase. “The family is regrettably engaged at present, and since you are likely tired from your extensive journey, they’ve arranged for you to rest for the evening in your bedchamber undisturbed.”

  For a moment I stood as if nailed to the parquet floor, digesting his words without fully understanding them. Where was Seline or Mrs. Cavanagh? Or even Avery?

  I glanced wildly about the dim hall as a shiver tickled my shoulders. Could it be true? Not a single member of the family could be bothered to welcome me back to Kent? Of course Piers Cavanagh was from home. I’d made certain of that before ever considering a long visit in the first place.

  Mr. Baker waited for me halfway up the stairs, his voice dipping to one of impatience. “This way, if you please.”

  With little choice, I hurried up the carpeted steps behind him, my gloved fingers sliding along the curved banister. Yet on the landing I hesitated at the balustrade, my unwitting gaze hunting the small alcove on the ground floor that was only visible from where I now stood.

  Five long years had crept achingly by since I departed East Whitloe and my friends at Loxby Manor, but in that breathless moment I wondered if my heart had ever really left. I could almost see my sixteen-year-old self rushing into that alcove, far too eager for my own good, accepting Piers’s outstretched hands with such reckless abandonment. How full of hopes and dreams I’d been then . . . Needless to say, that was before Ceylon. I turned back to the lonely corridor and the butler’s retreating form. Everything was different now.

  Mr. Baker deposited me in a small out-of-the-way room with pale green papers and golden drapes before deserting me with the promise of a supper tray. I crossed the room only to slump down upon a bow window seat near the fireplace and toss my bonnet at my side. How different my arrival had been from the one I’d anticipated. Perhaps Mrs. Cavanagh was not as pleased to host me as her letter had indicated.

  The clatter of footsteps sent me roaring to my feet. My bedchamber door burst inward and a young lady spilled into the room. “Charity!”

  Her delicate fingers lay across her chest, and she paused to appraise me before guiding the door shut.

  My eyes widened. “Seline? Can it be you?” Her name wafted into a whisper as I took in the beauty before me. Was this the same girl I’d traipsed through the woods with, having escaped my governess time and time again, to pick berries and climb trees? Her hair had darkened to a pleasing gold, and her face balanced the perfect combination of innocence and allure. No wonder Avery had mentioned in his letters that she’d been declared the toast of the season. Seline Cavanagh had grown into nothing short of an artful goddess.

  And she was here in my room . . . after I’d specifically been told otherwise.

  She extended her arms, urging me to meet her at the center of the rug where she took my hands into hers. Those astute green eyes did a bit of talking of their own, measuring my worth. “What ladies we have become.”

  She produced a half-hearted laugh as she pulled me into an embrace, then drew away. “I’m so glad you have arrived at last. ’Faith but Mama has no sense at all. She thought it best I stay away so you could relax this evening, considering . . . Well”—an exasperated sigh—“let’s just say, I could not wait to hear all the news of Ceylon.”

  My brows pulled in. Mrs. Cavanagh had told Seline to stay away . . . from me?

  “I cannot believe you’ve traveled so far and have seen so much of the world when I’ve never even left Britain.” She pursed her lips. “I’m quite jealous, you know. Tell me all about your travels. What is it like there?”

  Although I’d prepared myself for questions about my time in Ceylon, my heart still quivered at her words and my muscles clenched. Would I ever lose the horrible impulse to flee?

  I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. This would not be the last time I was asked.

  The truth was, Ceylon was nothing short of beautiful, the people kind, the tea plantations and estates a grand affair, but it took all my willpower to keep the tears at bay, to look past the incident, as my mother liked to call it. There was much more to my time in Ceylon than that terrible day.

  I took a deep breath. “Ceylon is a different world from Britain. It is a beautiful island with rolling hills and a sweeping shoreline. Did you know they have elephants there?”

  “No, I didn’t.” She checked. “Did you touch one?”

  “Of course. They’re quite friendly.”

  Seline blinked, her mouth puckered just so. “Mama would faint if she even saw an animal of that size. In fact, I’d advise you not to mention that part to her . . . among other things, like my being in your room. Your, well, let me just say, the timing of your arrival has proven to be a bit awkward.”

  “Awkward? Whatever do you mean?”

  She gave an indifferent shrug, her hair glinting in the firelight. “Nothing all that dreadful. Certainly not worth the histrionics Mama has enacted this last hour or more. She’s got the entire house in an uproar. Surely you remember how dramatic she can be.” Seline shot me a coy glance. “Ridiculous, since the whole thing was nothing but a silly accident.”

  I inched down onto a nearby chair, lost as to what could possibly be amiss at Loxby that had turned the entire household upside down. Granted, at least now I wouldn’t have to talk about Ceylon.

  I fumbled with my fingers in my lap. When my mother proposed the idea to spend a year with the Cavanagh’s while she and Papa visited my brother in Boston, I’d latched on to the notion at once. It was a golden opportunity—the perfect distraction from my difficult memories, time away to start anew. Yet the tone of Seline’s voice and her uncertain countenance sparked an all too familiar wave of repressed nerves. Had I made the wrong decision after all?

  Seline seemed to follow my thoughts as she knelt by my chair, patting my hand as if I was a child. “Do not fret. Everything shall be made right within the week.”

  I stared up. “Tell me what has happened.”

  A spark of mischief lit her eyes. “I suppose you must know the whole. Living in this house, you’ll learn of it soon enough, only I beg your discretion as it is rather personal in nature.”

  Personal indeed. As a child Seline had steered headfirst into any trouble that came her way, and I was always right there with her, joining in, keeping her secrets.

  There was the time she’d dared Lord Kendal to touch her ankle and laughed so prettily when he’d done so. And the day she tempted Hugh Daunt to take her fishing all alone for the afternoon. She never did reveal to me what they’d done on that riverbank, but Hugh couldn’t take his eyes off her after that.

  Thankfully her elder brothers had always shielded her. But now? I produced a weak nod. “Oh, Seline. Years ago we promised to look out for one another, and I have every intention of continuing to do so.”

  Her shoulders relaxed as that dainty smile she affected so well returned to her lips. “You were always so wonderfully trustworthy, and I can see you haven’t changed a bit.” She squeezed my hand. “Perhaps it is a good thing you came to Loxby at such a dreadful time. I daresay you can help protect me from Mama.”

  I angled my chin. “Only if you tell me what you’ve got yourself into this time.”

  “I’m afraid it is a bit of a bramble.” She fought back a laugh. “Well, you know how men get?”

  I sighed, for I did know just how men got around her. Even at fifteen she’d been enticing. How she’d made it to twenty without an engagement I couldn’t guess.

  She turned her attention to the arm of the chair, tracing the pattern with her finger. “It all started when Mr. Lacy, our head groom, took on a new stable hand—his neph
ew.” She snuck a peek beneath her lashes. “His name is Miles, and you know how I love to ride early every morning.”

  I seemed to remember her sleeping until midday, but now was not the time to quibble.

  “So you see, it wasn’t exactly my fault. I couldn’t help but interact with him alone day after day. It was only natural . . . I mean, I was simply humoring the man. Neither of us were the least serious. He knows full well I will settle for nothing short of a title. I told him so from the beginning.”

  “A title, hmm?” I wondered why Lord Kendal had not yet come up to scratch. The two had been inseparable since childhood.

  She huffed, her hands suddenly animated. “Wouldn’t you know, this morning, one of the dratted servants slunk into the stables and found Miles and me . . . well . . . you know, kissing.”

  I sat up straight. “Oh, Seline.”

  “Then the wretch dared to tell Papa. And now Mama thinks it likely the rumor will circulate the neighborhood.”

  Seline had been labeled the village flirt years ago, but kissing a stable hand—it was the outside of enough. No wonder the house had been a veritable mausoleum when I arrived. Mrs. Cavanagh was right. This was much more serious than Seline’s usual nonsensical whims. Her very respectability was at stake. “What do you plan to do?”

  “Well, deny it of course. Miles has been paid to leave the estate and keep his mouth shut. He is lucky Papa is willing to do that.”

  A line squirmed across her brow. “You needn’t look at me like that. You always were such a curst innocent. I vow I never could say or do anything without ruffling your feathers.” She leaned forward, the hint of a laugh on her breath. “There is more to discover than books, my dear, but I daresay you wouldn’t have the least idea what I’m even talking about.”

  My jaw tightened. Why was it that people always assumed those who are quiet or shy know nothing of the world? How shocked Seline would be if she learned what actually happened in Ceylon, but I had no intention of sharing that day with anyone besides my mother. Not now, not ever.