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I don’t know what to say to her. The ceiling creaks under dozens of dancing feet above us. We stand there in charged silence until Catherine snaps, “Leave me, Lydia. I can’t stand the sight of you slender and unspoiled in your ball gown, with your choice of dance partners upstairs. Just go!”
* * *
I can’t go back upstairs to the dancing.
Emeline should be in bed by now, but all I want to do is hold my little sister, the last vestige of purity and innocence in this family.
Still shaking as I close Catherine’s door behind me, I make my way to the spare chamber. It’s dark and still as I slip inside. As quietly as I can, I take off my shoes and slide into the bed.
But when I reach out to lace my arms around Emeline, all I encounter are empty sheets.
“Emeline?” I whisper into the darkness. “Are you there?”
No answer. I reach for the lamp and light it, casting the room into jagged shadows. It’s empty.
Swallowing down my alarm, I slide back out of bed and put my shoes on. The last time she disappeared she was fine; she’d just gotten bored and gone back to the house without me. There’s no reason to think tonight is any different. She probably snuck back up to the third floor to watch the dancing from some secret spot. But the sense of unease I had when I left the ballroom intensifies and my stomach begins to churn.
Back upstairs the dancing is in full tilt. I try not to notice that Mr. Barrett is engaged in conversation with Mrs. Tidewell’s pretty daughter, and to my relief, it appears that Cyrus has gone.
I catch Joe bringing up a fresh batch of punch. “Have you seen Emeline?”
He furrows his brow in thought. “Not since dinner. She’s not in bed?”
I shake my head, already turning back into the ballroom. I don’t want to make Mother needlessly anxious, but I have to ask her. “Mother,” I say, making my voice light, “have you seen Emeline?”
She frowns, darting a glance around the ballroom. “No. Isn’t she in bed?”
“I... I don’t know. Probably.” I can’t tell her my suspicions, not yet. I force a smile. “She must have snuck back into the nursery. Don’t worry.” But the lines around Mother’s mouth are already tightening, her eyes dilating in alarm.
Mr. Barrett catches my eye as I turn from Mother, but I duck into the nursery. It’s empty, just as I knew it would be.
Ignoring the curious glances from our guests, I run down the stairs, my pulse racing. “Emeline? Emeline, where are you?” My voice hitches higher as I move room to room on the second floor, calling her name.
“What are you doing?”
I spin around to find Catherine, watching me from her doorway. “I can’t find Emeline.”
“She’s not in the spare room?”
“I wouldn’t be searching high and low for her if she was,” I snap.
I think Catherine is going to give me a sharp retort, but she falls into step behind me as I run to the first floor, uselessly calling Emeline’s name.
A cluster of people have gathered behind us, and I’m vaguely aware of their whispers and craning necks. But it’s Mr. Barrett who breaks from the crowd and takes me by the elbow, asking what’s wrong.
“Emeline, Emeline is missing,” I say, trying to keep the trembling panic from my voice.
I expect him to smile off my concern—after all, I had been equally alarmed that day she disappeared from the pond, and it turned out she had been fine then—but Mr. Barrett’s brow darkens, and he looks down at me, his clear eyes boring into mine. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice full of urgency.
My throat tight, I nod.
Glancing away, he mutters a light curse under his breath, and then asks, “Do you have any idea of where she might have gone?”
I start to shake my head, but then it comes to in a flash. I know where she is.
* * *
Mr. Barrett has long legs and he moves sure-footed and fast through the woods. Even Joe struggles to keep up. Father, red faced and panting, quickly falls behind. My heart is pounding in my ears as I run, my lungs threatening to burst.Be there, Emeline. Be there safe and laughing under the willow. Wait for me.