Lady Lissa's Liaison (24 page)

Your locket and your belongings. Our pact is now complete and finished.

Lissa pressed her eyes shut against the tears she felt welling in them. Within her chest, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

"M'lady?" Tilly whispered.

Lissa did not respond. She couldn't. She felt as though her world had just bottomed out.

"I be afraid, m'lady. You look as though your insides have just died."

"An apt description," Lissa finally said, lifting her lashes, tears spilling from her eyes.

She set down Gabriel's note and picked up Langford's locket. "What a perfect nuisance this locket has been for me," she said through her tears. "Why, look, Tilly, it isn't even painted. All this time I could have sworn it was a painted piece, but it is pure gold. Do you know, I never even truly looked at it? And I'd touched it only to try and open the clasp."

Tilly said nothing, clearly fearing her lady had gone mad.

Lissa turned the locket over in her palm. "Oh my," she breathed, "no wonder Gabriel is so angry. Look, Tilly, at the back of the locket. It bears the Langford seal. I'd never even noticed that fact... but I fear it was doubtless the first thing Lord Wylde noticed. I am only surprised he did not march into the manor and throw the thing back in my face."

Tilly was horrified by the mere thought. "Should I call for your aunt, m'lady, seeing as how you are bound to be stewin' about Lord Wylde's note and all?"

"Stewing?" Lissa repeated, her mind spinning with all that had just happened. "Yes, that was my first reaction, I fear... and the tears. But now that I think of it, I shall not sit in my rooms and try to bandage my heart. No. I shan't."

Lissa drew in a huge breath, dashed the wetness from her face, then got to her feet, the locket still clutched in one hand.

"I shall," she said, thinking aloud, "just have to talk to Lord Wylde about this. In fact, there are a good many things I wish to say to the man today. It takes two to make a pact, and this party is not yet finished with my end of our shared vow! I shall, once and for all, own up to my feelings and tell Lord Wylde that the unmarriageable Lady Lissa has come to the conclusion that she
is
of the mind to marry and would like to do so with
him."

"M'lady!"
Tilly gasped.

Lissa turned toward her maid, a renewed light in her eyes. "Tilly," she said, suddenly taking charge of both her emotions and the situation, "bring me my writing utensils. I shall pen a missive to Lord Langford, informing him that I wish to meet with him this afternoon."

"What are you about, m'lady?"

"I am going to return the man's locket and see him out of my life forever."

"And as for Lord Wylde?" Tilly asked, afraid of the answer.

"I am going in search of him. Alone. Lord Wylde and I have much to discuss. Now hurry, Tilly, I've much to do this day!"

* * *

Less than an hour later, Lissa, dressed in a walking gown of moss green and wearing a light cloak with the hood secured over her head to ward off the morning's chill, made her way alone to the river.

She was just about to the spot where the downed log lay when she heard a high-pitched and rather worrisome call from afar.

Looking up, Lissa saw Miss Fabersham, appearing much the worse for wear and with a knitted frown atop her brow. The woman appeared to be in great distress. Her half boots were muddied, as were the hems of her dull skirt, and her hair had fallen loose of its usual tight bun.

"Miss Fabersham!"

The woman waved, a cry catching in her throat. "My lady! How
glad
I am to see you!"

"What is it?" Lissa called.

"Master Harry... he—he is missing, my lady! He was not in his nursery this morning. I have looked
everywhere.
The stables, where the new kittens were born, in the kitchens, everywhere he loves to go," she explained, a terrified edge to her voice. "I thought perhaps he wandered near the river."

Lissa was instantly galvanized into action. She noted a sort of dam made by silt and rocks in a near bend of the water, and then headed for it. In a moment she was across the water and standing on the opposite bank with Miss Fabersham.

"I do not know what to do," the governess said. "I fear the worst. I have called an alarm. Even now, his lordship and the servants are mounting a search for the boy. I—I thought perhaps he'd remembered our picnic by the water. I thought he might have come this way. You haven't seen him, have you, my lady?"

"No, I haven't. But I've only just now arrived at the river."

"Oh, my... ," worried Miss Fabersham.

"We shall find him," Lissa said. "Do not fret. He cannot have gone far. Are you certain you checked every inch of the house?"

"Quite certain... Oh, but he is so very curious," said the governess,
"anything
could have taken his fancy. Perhaps he walked into town. Perhaps he followed some stray animal. Anything is possible where Master Harry is concerned. I should have kept a better watch over him, should have—"

"Let us not waste precious time with 'should have's," Lissa cut in. "We need to find him, as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes of course. But
how? Where?"

The woman was panic-stricken. Lissa knew that she, herself, might soon be as well if she didn't move into action. "I shall scout the area upstream," she said, thinking of all the places she and Gabriel had fished with little Harry. "You begin your search here and go downstream."

Miss Fabersham nodded.

"Where is Lord Wylde searching?"

"Nearest the road, m'lady, and the lands that side with yours. The servants have fanned out in the woodlands, to the north, south, east and west."

"And your signal if anyone finds the boy?"

"We are to return home immediately with him and sound the warning bell three times, alerting everyone else to end their search."

Lissa digested this information, and then, wishing the governess good luck, she headed upstream, calling out for Harry as she went. There could be nothing heard in return but birdcalls and the unending flow of the river.

Lissa looked over at the Dove, shuddering to think that Harry, reaching for a fly casing or even a brightly colored rock, might have fallen into the river's waters. Fear and panic ripped through her at the possibility.

She pressed one hand to her mouth, willing herself to be calm, to not give in to the stark fear that threatened to overwhelm her. Anticipating the worst was not going to help Harry. Staying calm, being clear, was the only thing that would aid him.

Lissa took a deep breath, called out for Harry, then continued walking.
Where could he have wandered off to, where could he have gone?

He liked the kittens in the barn, Lissa remembered, had told her about them in great detail. But Gabriel and the others had doubtless searched that area high and low. What else was the boy taken with, fond of, intrigued by?

Lissa paused, trying to think hard, to remember exactly everything she and Harry had talked about. But it was the river that kept catching her gaze. Sunlight sparkled atop it, its light looking like a silver sheen. The trees on the other bank were tall, serene... the riverbank a deep blue-black. Lissa stared at those trees, willing her mind to think like a child's mind—like Harry's mind. What would draw him out of his bed and out of the house? What treasures might he seek?

Something rustled in the woods behind her. Lissa, far too on edge, swung about. A turkey cascaded in the air down from its previous perch on a tree limb, feathers ruffling as it dropped to the ground and scurried forward a few paces. One lone feather floated off its body, drifting on the breeze for a split second, then floated in a whispering, willy-nilly path to the forest floor.

Lissa stared at that feather. And then she remembered with startling clarity:
The tree, that looks like a troll....

The nest! She'd told Harry about a certain nest that all summer long would hold eggs that hatched into birds, told him about the mother bird who seemed able to produce eggs numerous times.

Could he have gone to look in on the fledglings? It was possible. At the moment, it was her only hope.

Lissa's feet suddenly flew over the ground as she raced upstream. She ran as though her life—and Harry's—depended upon it. That nest was too close to the water, and far too high up in the tree for little Harry to get to safely.

There were countless tragedies that could befall the boy should he attempt to climb that aged, dying tree on his own. And the nest itself had been built too far out atop a most precarious limb.

"Oh, Harry," Lissa gasped aloud, swiping away her tears as she did so.

If he'd gone to the find the nest, if he was hurt—or worse—because of his dangerous adventure, she would never forgive herself.

Lissa ran until her lungs burned and her head felt dizzy. She was still yards away from the tree, though.

"Harry!" she called out. "Harry, are you here? Answer me, please!" She was nearly to the tree when she heard a muffled call. "Harry? Is that you?"

She heard nothing... and then: "Lisha?"

She nearly hit the trunk of the tree headlong, so fast was she running. She pulled to a stop, cranking her head back and looking up. "Harry? Are you up there, sweetheart?"

"Lisha, look! I found the nesht,
nest,
"he corrected. "It is jush—-just where you said it would be."

She could see him now—or rather, could partly see him. He was hidden by the leaves and crooked branches.

"Oh, Harry," Lissa breathed, relief flooding through her at the sound of his voice. "How did you climb so high in that tree?"

"I dunno," said the boy. "I just did.
Look,"
he insisted again. "Three babies, Lisha. Newly hatched. You were right, Lisha. What a special nest it is!"

"Oh, sweetheart. Please, hold still. Do not budge an inch."

Lissa moved to get a better view, seeing that Harry had climbed far out onto an aged, creaky branch, one that was positioned directly above a deep pool of water below. He was clinging to the branch with both hands and the strength of his little legs.

"I've been watching them," Harry called down. "They cry a lot. Do you think they are crying for their mother, Lisha?"

Lissa forced down an overwhelming sense of panic. "No doubt they are just hungry," she called back. "Now listen to me very carefully, Harry, I want you to—"

"Can I feed them?" he asked, his mind still on the birds, oblivious to the danger he was in.

"No, Harry, we should not disturb them. They are creatures of nature and we need to let them be. And I need
you
to come down out of the tree now. Everyone is very worried about you. We need to get you home and let your papa know you are safe. Do you hear, sweetheart?"

But Harry was already inching forward on the branch, his interest in the nest outweighing all other factors.

Wood creaked, and then, suddenly, the old branch gave an inch or two, threatening to split from the tree, jarring the boy as it tipped downward several inches.

Lissa's heart caught in her throat.
"Harry."

"I—I'm okay, Lisha."

"Harry,
please
listen to me and do only as I say. You need to come down out of the tree,
now.
Just scoot backwards very slowly and—"

"I—I can't. I... I am afraid, Lisha." His voice rose a note as he clung to the branch. "Will you come and get me, Lisha. Please?"

Lissa looked up at how high he'd climbed. 'Twas frightfully high. Impossibly high.

"I want to come down now," he called. "I—I want to be with you, Lisha. And Papa."

"Oh, Harry," she breathed. She wanted to climb up and help him, she truly did. But he was so very high up in the tree. Just thinking of how far up he was made Lissa's stomach clench.

Did she have enough time to run and find Gabriel? Even as Lissa thought of that avenue, she nixed the idea. She wouldn't—couldn't—leave Harry alone in the tree. 'Twould be madness to do so. And yet... if she didn't, that left only one other plan; she must climb the tree herself and save the boy.

Lissa looked up, and up and up, at Harry teetering precariously on the old limb that was threatening to give way. There really was no choice at all in the matter. She
knew
what she had to do.

Lissa took a huge, deep breath of calming air, gathering not only her strength but her courage as well. She'd come to love the boy. Loved him so much that it hurt.

Tears in her eyes, Lissa called up, "I am coming, sweetheart. I'll get you down."

Before she even dared to think of what she was actually doing, Lissa reached up, grasped onto the lowest branch, then hoisted her body up and onto it. Her skirts proved a hindrance. She yanked them into place over the branch, then stood up, balancing precariously. Her half boots were slippery on the old, knotted wood. She forced herself to hold steady, to not panic.

Averting her eyes from the ground below, Lissa reached for the next branch, then hauled herself up again.

"Lisha?"

"Yes, Harry?" she asked as she climbed. She could no longer see him. She was climbing close to the trunk, where the limbs were strongest. Harry was hidden by branches and leaves.