Page 31 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“What I mean to say is that when your mother caught a fever, my brother wrote to us and told us. The doctors said it was life-threatening, and the one happiness he had in all this time was at least knowing that you were in a romance with a young man and seemed on the verge of a betrothal. It was the one bright spot in all that mess.” Aunt Mildred cleared her throat.

“So whilst it’s none of my business what happened between you and that young man, I don’t want you to blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

“I… I wasn’t there for my mother when she died.”

“You couldn’t have done anything to prevent her dying, child,” Aunt Mildred said. “All you would have done was sit there.”

“But at least I could have done that.” Instead, she’d been naked in a bed, bleeding on sweaty sheets, cavorting with a man who didn’t love her. She felt a wave of shame come over her.

“Mourning the dead is all well and good, but your mother would have wanted you to live your life. Not dwell in the past. I didn’t know what had changed you so.

You’re much more serious now, more than you ever used to be.

Anyway. Let us find Betsey. I’m sure this whole business will be cleared up by morning. ” Her aunt sounded hopeful.

Anastasia suspected her aunt was a bit more hopeful than she herself felt as they walked down to the servants’ quarters, to the kitchen. But there was no Betsey. None of the servants had seen her.

Exchanging a look, the pair organized a search of the household, and teamed up with the servants to search the townhouse from top to bottom. But within half an hour, it was clear. Betsey was gone.

Her aunt called for her uncle, and they met in the parlor. “Where could she have gone?” Aunt Mildred asked.

“I don’t know,” Anastasia said.

“Perhaps to Hookham’s?” her uncle suggested.

“At this hour?” Aunt Mildred shook her head. “It would be closed. She wouldn’t have snuck back into the Lyon’s Den, would she’ve?”

Anastasia bit her lip. “But Mrs. Dove-Lyon told us all to stay here and not go out.”

“She might have gone to see her young man,” Aunt Mildred said.

“I don’t know where he lives,” Anastasia said but then realized, she knew where Jeremiah was staying. Perhaps he would know. But he would likely charge her for the information. “Uncle, could you loan me ten pounds?”

“What on earth do you want that for?” he asked.

“I need to pay a visit to my old beau, Mr. Jeremiah Jemisin.”

“With money?” He spoke with distaste.

“It’s the only thing he loves,” Anastasia said.

While her uncle went to Bow Street to call on the constables to help search, Anastasia and her aunt took a carriage to the King’s Head, where together with a male servant, they went inside.

It was a noisy pub, full of men and women.

They had a word with the barman who replied, “What do you want him for?”

“A private matter.”

The barman looked at the stern faces of Aunt Mildred and the manservant standing behind her and said, “All right. But tell him he’s got no more beer coming till he pays his bill. Up the stairs, first room on the right.”

A visit to his room and a sharp knock revealed Jeremiah half-dressed, with the room a sorry sight. Clothes lay strewn on the floor and a woman sat in a state of dishabille. She squawked at the sight of them and covered herself with a muttered curse.

Anastasia’s hand darted to her mouth. “Mrs. Sherwood!”

Mrs. Sherwood turned red but said nothing.

“Never mind her. What do you want?” Jeremiah asked, approaching them. He was barefoot, in nothing but a pair of trousers and a loose, open shirt. The room smelled of sweat, cheap beer, and warm bodies.

“My sister, Betsey. Have you seen her?”

Jeremiah’s mouth broke into a grin. “No.”

“Your brother, where is he staying?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. He stayed here a night not long ago but left. Why, you think they’ve run off together?”

“Certainly not,” Aunt Mildred boomed behind her. “Betsey would do no such thing.”

Jeremiah glanced at her and smirked. “You think you’re so smart. But why else would you come running to me for help, when you can’t even control where your own niece has gone?”

That earned him a few glares, and he laughed. “I don’t know where she’s gone. But I tell you this. My little brother’s not the marrying kind.”

Anastasia gripped her cloak at her side. Was this true or a lie meant to disturb her? She thought Percy was genuine in his attentions toward Betsey. Could Jeremiah be trusted? She knew the answer to that, but what if he wasn’t lying?

Jeremiah winked at her, ignoring the fact he had just been in bed with another woman. “If they’ve run off together, he’s got no mind to marry her, no matter what she thinks. And nothing will change his mind.”

Anastasia’s blood turned to ice in her veins. The worst possible outcome would be if they had run off together, and for Betsey to find herself at Mr. Percy Jemisin’s mercy. To run away and not to marry, it would be her ruin. Her heart went out to Betsey, wherever she was.

Seeing her expression, Jeremiah said, “Maybe she takes after her older sister, eh?”

Anastasia reddened and turned away, when her aunt snapped, “I don’t know who you think you are, but how dare you talk to my niece that way? You’re nothing but a lout, a cad, a—”

“Come away, Aunt. He’s not worth your time,” Anastasia said. She shot an apologetic glance to Mrs. Sherwood, who looked embarrassed. She wanted to tell Mrs. Sherwood to be sure and wash wherever he’d touched her but thought better of it.

“Read the paper this morning? The story’s out now, Ana. I’m surprised you showed your face around here. Bet that sorry arse Hardwicke’s thrown you over for someone else, eh?”

Mrs. Sherwood piped up. “Me. He’s marrying me.”

Jeremiah laughed.

“Stay away from Mrs. Sherwood, Jeremiah,” Anastasia said. She wouldn’t wish his attentions on anyone.

He scratched his crotch and leaned against the doorway. “Don’t tell me who to go sleeping with. Unless you want some yourself.” He looked her up and down. “Normally, don’t sleep with the same woman twice, but for old times’ sake, I’d still—”

“Enough. We are leaving.” Aunt Mildred hustled Anastasia and the manservant away and down the stairs, back into the noisy pub. “I cannot think what you ever saw in that man, Anastasia.”

Anastasia shook her head in disbelief. She could hardly believe Mrs. Sherwood would stoop so low.

Why was she sleeping around, and with Jeremiah of all people, when she was supposed to be engaged to Mr. Hardwicke, even if he’d informed her it was all a false rumor?

Was she doing it out of revenge? “Honestly, Aunt, I can’t think what I saw in him, either. ”

“Hmph. Well, at least in that, we are in agreement. But what about Betsey? Where might she be?”

They returned home and awaited the arrival of her uncle, who came back in minutes.

He shook his head as he removed his hat and evening coat.

“I’ve told the constables and they’re searching for her.

But they didn’t hold out much hope. There’re so many other crimes going on, they need more men.

I have a mind to write to my local magistrate. ”

Aunt Mildred wrung her hands. “Never mind that now. Where could she be? Where would she have gone?”

Anastasia hurried up to Betsey’s room. They had looked in there before but only a cursory glance to note that she hadn’t been there. No one had done a proper search of her room. Taking a candelabra into the room, Anastasia flooded the space with light, and looked around.

The room was tidy, thanks to their maid’s daily cleaning. But as Anastasia looked around, something was out of place. Something was missing.

“Aunt,” she called.

“What is it, Anastasia?” Aunt Mildred entered the room.

She looked around. “One of Betsey’s travel bags is missing.” Anastasia opened the closet. “And one of her dresses and a pair of shoes.”

“Oh, lord. You don’t think…?” Aunt Mildred started.

Anastasia looked on the bed, which was shabbily made. She set the candelabra on a side table and peered on the floor. There was a scrap of paper under the bed. She reached for it, and it was addressed to her.

“It’s a note. It’s in Betsey’s handwriting. It must have fallen beneath the bed.”

“Read it. What does it say?”

It read:

Dear Anastasia,

Percy and I could take it no more. I cannot stand by while this scandal you have brought down on our heads may ruin my chances of future happiness.

You may have done your best to ruin our family, but I won’t let it happen to me.

I know you tried your best to look out for me, but you were wrong about Percy. He’s wonderful, and he cares for me.

We love each other, and by the time you read this, I will be on my way to Gretna Green. We are going to be married. When you see me next, I will be the blissfully happy Mrs. Percy Jemisin.

—Betsey

Anastasia looked at her aunt in horror. “She’s run away.”