Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell
Chapter Sixteen
Nathan could not take the suspense of it any longer.
The night before, Meg had made it clear that she knew of his visit to her home, but after hours of consideration, he’d realized something. Never had she explicitly said whether she knew the reason for it. Surely her parents must have told her. But what if they hadn’t? What if they had deemed him unworthy of their daughter and had decided not to inform her of his proposal? He could not let it end like that. If Meg learned of his love for her and spurned him, he would lose her forever, but if she married the viscount, he would lose her all the same and without ever having the chance to prove himself to her.
And so he found himself riding to her home in the midst of a thunderstorm.
It was reckless, really, but his parents had taken the carriage into town and likely been detained by the weather. He could not possibly wait around until the end of the storm. It could last hours or an entire day. Suppose Lord Hatfield proposed between now and then?
So, soaking wet, cold, and not appearing as one would like when about to propose to the woman he loved, he found his way to the servants’ entrance. He ought to at least dry off somewhat before requesting an audience with Meg. Even if she denied him, he would not regret sharing his admiration. He should have told her of his true feelings months ago—years, maybe—instead of hiding behind jests and cowardice.
He ducked into the kitchen. It was absolute chaos.
Maids and footmen rushed in and out, and the cook was standing in the midst of it all, looking entirely lost. The housekeeper entered for a moment, ordered two scullery maids to “recheck the bedchambers,” then ducked out just as quickly.
Bewildered, Nathan dodged a footman and crossed to Cook.
“What is going on?”
The generally cheerful woman turned to him, eyes wide and watery, hand over her heart. “Oh, Mr. Blake! Have you been searching for her? I do not know what to do! I am supposed to be preparing luncheon, but how can I with the mistress missing?” She wrung her hands together, looking about in complete hopelessness.
“Lady Hall? She has gone missing?”
Cook’s eyes landed on him again, widening. “You do not know? I assumed with you wet like that that you must have been searching. No, not Lady Hall—Miss Hall! She has not been seen since this morning, and now with this storm—we fear she is out there somewhere!”
Nathan’s heart fell to his stomach, a hot rush of fear filling him despite the chill from the rain. “What is being done? What can I do?”
“Oh, I do not know! Gracious, what can anyone do?” Her hands brushed her apron continually—more habit than necessity it would seem. “What if something horrible becomes Miss Hall—and her only just recovered. Oh gracious, what shall we do?”
Nathan ignored her, striding to the door into the house, oblivious to the sodden footsteps he left in his wake. He had to find someone who knew something. He had to find Meg.
He crossed to the main part of the house at a near run, darting into the drawing room when he saw movement within. The crowd of people gathered inside stared at him in alarm. With a quick sweep of his gaze, he determined that neither Lord nor Lady Hall was within. Nor did any of the guests seem to be as frantic as the rest of the household—likely they did not know of Meg’s disappearance.
“Sir Robert?” he barked.
A beat of silence.
“He is in his study,” a woman offered in a squeaky voice. Nathan spun on his heel and ran for the open door of the room in question.
Sir Robert was inside speaking with Semphill, as was Lady Hall. The latter was at the window, tears running down her face. They all looked up when he entered.
“Have you found her?” Nathan demanded without preamble. A sob escaped Lady Hall, and Sir Robert shook his head solemnly.
“We have checked the entire house. The servants are undergoing a second sweep, but we fear she is no longer inside.”
A wail sounded, and Nathan glanced at Lady Hall, who had fallen into an armchair. She brandished a handkerchief at her husband. “And just when all was to be perfect, Sir Robert! A proposal from the viscount and Margaret finally agreeing to marry him—and now this! My daughter was to be a viscountess but now . . . now she may be dead!” She collapsed into sobs, and Nathan shot a sharp look at Sir Robert. The man looked faintly abashed, but Nathan could not dwell on the fact that they, and Meg it would seem, had chosen the viscount over himself. All that mattered was finding Meg.
“What is being done?”
Sir Robert did not answer his question but instead looked to the doorway behind Nathan. Nathan turned around. Lord Hatfield stood there, a look not altogether pleasant on his face.
“I do hope I am not interrupting. I am looking for Miss Hall.”
Another wail sounded from the armchair, and Sir Robert sent his wife a look of long-suffering before straightening and facing Lord Hatfield. “I am afraid she is missing, Lord Hatfield.”
A frown line appeared between the man’s brows, and Nathan paced away from the two of them. He needed something to do, something productive, unlike explaining away Meg’s absence.
“Missing?” Lord Hatfield’s voice was a mixture of amusement and confusion.
Sir Robert sighed, coming around his desk. “Yes, and I am afraid it is far worse than that. I suppose it is time you know all, Lord Hatfield. You see, well, my daughter suffered an extreme illness not half a year ago. If she were to succumb again, she will likely not recover. We are afraid she is stuck in the storm, and therefore, our alarm is great.”
Nathan could laugh. Our alarm is great? How could such a sentiment encompass the fear that was streaking through him, filling his every vein, forcing him to move? He started for the door; he had to do something.
“I see.” Lord Hatfield’s nostrils flared as he spoke with a strangely pinched voice. “Well. I do wish someone had informed me of this earlier, but it would seem we ought to gather a search party.”
“Yes, I believe we ought to. Mr. Blake?”
Nathan stopped just before the door at Sir Robert’s voice. He turned slightly but not all the way around. How could everyone be standing around? They needed to act!
“Mr. Blake, perhaps you and Lord Hatfield could begin a search in the gardens? I will inform the remainder of our guests and see if anyone else is willing to help in our search. Then I will join you myself.”
Nathan nodded at the same time as Lord Hatfield.
“Certainly,” the viscount responded. “I shall fetch my hat and coat and begin immediately.”
“Thank you both. We are greatly in your debt.”
Nathan did not wait to hear any more. He turned and marched from the room with no intention of going to the gardens. Meg would have been able to return if she were there. No, Nathan intended to gather his poor, already wet horse and search the grounds. He would find her, or he would die trying.