The Major's Guarded Heart. Isabelle Goddard
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vanished from sight, taking nothing with him except...’ James hesitated a moment ‘...except a little money and a family ring—but they would certainly not be sufficient to sustain him for long.’
‘But surely someone must know where he is. His friends? Your family elsewhere in the country?’
‘We’ve sent messages everywhere, but no one in the family has seen him. As for friends, Gilbert has few. It was always you, Justin—he needed no other—and since you have been away, I think at times he has felt very lonely.’
Another reproach to add to the already long list, Justin thought. ‘I have been away too long and I am sorry for it—but is there no one in the neighbourhood that might have an inkling of his whereabouts?’ It seemed impossible to believe that a healthy, young man could disappear so completely.
‘The new excise officer was the only person he talked to. He spent a good deal of time with him walking the marshes and the cliffs, as he used to with you. But then the poor chap died. It was most tragic. It was Gil who found his body, you know, lying at the foot of the cliff. He’d fallen in the darkness, though there are rumours that it might not have been an accident. Whatever the truth of it, Gil was greatly upset and I have sometimes wondered if that might be the reason he disappeared. I have no real idea, though. I seemed to have lost touch with my son, long before he vanished.’
Justin’s brow furrowed, trying to think himself into Gil’s shoes, but he found that he was as much out of touch with his friend as James. ‘Might he have gone to London?’ he offered without much hope.
‘We certainly considered the possibility and sent Robert—you remember Robert, I’m sure—he is as true a servant as you could hope for. We sent him up to London almost immediately to make discreet enquiries, but not a sound or sign did he gather. After two weeks we called him home. It was a hopeless task.’
The more Justin considered what James Armitage had told him, the more puzzled he grew. Gil was the best of fellows, but he had never been the most adventurous of spirits. As boys, it had always been Justin that had led the way: building dams, scrumping apples, climbing every one of the estate’s five oak trees. It was always Justin who thought up the pranks which landed them in trouble. He hadn’t seen his friend for three years but when they’d last met, he’d thought Gil more sober than ever—hardly a man liable to kick up his heels and vanish without a word.
‘I imagine you have tried the local doctors,’ he said tentatively, fearing that his friend had come to harm in some way, but unable to say so directly.
‘I’ve checked with every doctor in Sussex,’ Armitage said grimly. ‘I’ve even visited the mortuary, but not a sign of him.’
There was a rustle of silk and a slight aura of perfume and Caroline had left the carriage and was almost upon them. ‘You must help us, Justin.’ Her eyes were large and frightened and the appeal went straight to his heart.
‘Mrs Armitage, you know that I would do anything to help, but...’
‘You must find him,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘You must find Gilbert.’
Her husband wrapped a restraining arm around her. ‘You cannot ask the impossible of our young friend.’
‘If anyone can find our son, Justin can.’ And she turned back to the carriage, her eyes already beginning to fill with fresh tears.
Justin shook his head. He felt enormously weary. His father’s sudden death had shocked him far more than he’d thought possible. He had felt guilt, unbearable guilt, that he had shirked a sacred responsibility. And the guilt had only grown when he’d arrived home and found Chelwood in the most wretched disarray, a rascally bailiff having taken advantage of Sir Lucien and enriched himself at the expense of the estate. Weeks of work were before him if he were to put Chelwood to rights—even with a new and trustworthy man in charge. And if that was not bad enough, he had this minute learned that his dearest friend had gone missing without a trace, had vanished into the air like a magician’s accomplice. What was going on? Whatever it was, Caroline Armitage expected him to discover it.
‘Take no notice of my wife,’ James was saying. ‘She is naturally distraught. Of course, you cannot be expected to begin looking for Gilbert, with your own life in such turmoil. Please forget her words and forgive us for intruding so badly on a day when your own grief should be paramount.’
For an instant he had forgotten his father, forgotten Chelwood, forgotten even his beloved regiment. He had been remembering his dear friend and all they had meant to each other. In some strange way the image of the girl he had just met was entangled with the image of Gil. But why? It made no sense, but nothing about this day did. She was one complication he would be sure to avoid. There had never been space for women in his life and certainly not now; it was Gil he must think of.
‘I’ll try,’ he said firmly. ‘I doubt I will be successful, but I will do my damnedest to find your son.’
* * *
The rain had held off, the black rolling clouds travelling swiftly westwards, but in their place the October sky was left bleached, an eerie half-light pervading the world. The congregation that only minutes ago had poured from the ancient church and through the ivy-covered lych gate had seemingly been blown away on the wind. Not a soul was visible as they walked down the hill and towards the water, leaving behind the shelter of the Citadel, the small hilly enclave of houses and lanes that clustered around the church. She wondered if Justin Delacourt was still holding forth in the churchyard or whether he, too, had disappeared into the ether. He was a very attractive man, but he had angered her—he had been curt and uncivil. Yet despite that she could not stop herself from feeling intrigued.
‘Who were those people, Mrs Croft?’
They were battling their way along the river bank against a furious wind. ‘I mean the people who greeted Lord Delacourt so warmly—almost as a long-lost son.’ And then when her companion did not answer, she said doubtfully, ‘It is Lord Delacourt, isn’t it?’
‘Not quite.’ Mrs Croft allowed herself a smile. ‘You have elevated him. On his father’s death, he became Sir Justin Delacourt, though I imagine he would prefer to be known as Major. And those people, as you call them, were the Armitages.’
‘They seemed to know him very well,’ Lizzie reiterated.
‘They own Five Oaks. Their estate adjoins Chelwood Place and Justin Delacourt ran tame there for most of his childhood. The Armitages were very good friends of Sir Lucien and the two sons were the closest of companions, always playing together or learning with the same tutor.’
‘He is fortunate to have such good friends with whom he can share his sadness.’ Lizzie hoped her sympathy might encourage the older woman to talk, for she had found Mrs Croft to be annoyingly discreet, volunteering only the most superficial of news.
‘They will have much to say to each other, yes—sadnesses aplenty to share, I make no doubt.’
The tone was vague and the comment cryptic, but when Lizzie dared to look a question, she was met by brisk dismissal. ‘It can be of no interest to you, child.’
But it was of interest, or at least Justin Delacourt was. ‘I gather Sir Justin is in the army.’
‘Indeed, and seemingly wishful to remain a serving officer, though I am not sure how practical that will prove.’
‘How long has he been a soldier?’
‘It must be some six years. He has done well, even though he went as an enlisted man. In the Light Dragoons, I believe. He wanted no favours, but his natural leadership has seen him rise very quickly through the ranks. That and this dreadful war England has been fighting these past ten years.’
Lizzie was silent, thinking of a father who had fought that war and was still fighting. She had not seen him for three years and the last occasion was one she chose not to remember. It was on her account that he had been given compassionate leave to travel to England. She blushed even now, remembering her disgrace.