Page 13 of One Last Whisper

“Did she live here when you were born?”

Oliver shakes his head. “We lived in a cottage by the shore. When I was born, my mother realized she couldn’t afford to keep me, so she brought me here. She stayed with me for a while, I’m told, but then she disappeared suddenly. I wonder sometimes if she’s dead, or if she was hurt. Or maybe she just ran off and didn’t want to care for me anymore.”

“Well, if that was her reason, then I hope you’ll forgive me, but your mother’s a fool.”

He stares at me in shock, and I explain, "You're a wonderful boy. If your mother chose not to stay long enough to see it, then that's her mistake. I, for one, am excited to get to know you."

He smiles and says, “I’m excited to get to know you too.” He shrugs. “It’s not all bad. Uncle Edmund buys me any video game I want, and Lady Cordelia is kind to me. I could do worse for a life.”

“That’s a wonderful attitude to have,” I tell him. “And I’m very proud of you.” I look out the window. “It’s a bright day outside. How would you feel about joining me on the balcony for lunch after we finish your tests?”

He grins. “I would love that, Miss Mary.”

"Well, thank you very much, my young lord," I reply with a bow.

He giggles, his melancholy displaced. My own melancholy is, unfortunately, returned in full force.

Perhaps his mother's disappearance is more easily explained by an untimely death. I find it difficult to believe she disappeared. Such a thing doesn't happen in noble families. More likely, she was also ill, perhaps with the same illness that afflicts Oliver. Or perhaps she had certain habits that ended up being her downfall. It is quite believable that Lord Edmund would keep such an affliction quiet and adopt Oliver in part to ensure that no rumors gained traction.

But if Oliver has heard other screams, then there have been other women. Perhaps Lord Edmund has habits of his own. I wonder once more if there’s more to Lady Cordelia’s melancholy than simple exhaustion.

I tell myself again that it’s none of my business, but it’s getting harder and harder to convince myself to stay out of it. Maybe it’s fate that I’m here. Maybe some force beyond this mortal coil is calling upon me to right another wrong. I wish it would call on another, but we don’t always get what we wish for.

Sometimes, we must make the best out of what we have.

***

I take dinner with the servants that evening. Sarah still has not returned Theresa’s calls, nor has she arrived for work, red-faced or otherwise.

And now I’m worried. I can no longer pretend that she simply lost track of time with a beau. To oversleep is one thing, but to go an entire day without so much as a text to one’s employer is an entirely different thing.

The others are worried, too. Franny and Matilda are white as snow. While Theresa carries dinner to the family, I ask them. “Did you hear anything from Sarah last night?”

Franny shakes her head. “She’s talked about this boy for a while now. She was really excited to see him. We told her to tell us if…” she reddens slightly. “You know, we told her to tell us all the details. But she never replied.”

“We figured things were going well,” Matilda said. “You know how it is when a date goes well, and you’re just focused on… well, you know.”

“I know,” I assure her. “But did you not worry when she didn’t answer?”

“No,” they reply. “Not until she didn’t show up this morning.”

“What about the young man? Did anything seem off about him? Anything at all concerning to you?”

They shake their heads again. “We never met him,” Franny says.

"But to hear Sarah talk, he was charming and kind. He was the son of a solicitor. She said he was really sweet to her. I can't… You don't think he hurt her, do you?"

Before I can answer, the door opens and Theresa joins us again. The two girls stare pleadingly at her.

Theresa notices their stares and tenses. “Eat your dinner,” she says. “No use worrying about what we can’t change.”

“But surely his Lordship will look for her,” Franny says.

Theresa’s lips thin. “Don’t you worry about his Lordship. Eat your dinner.”

I shift my feet uncomfortably. I am still new here, but I feel I must involve myself at least enough to say what I am about to say. "Perhaps we should call the police, Theresa. I know I advised you not to worry about it earlier, but at this point, we must let the authorities know. Surely the poor girl has a family somewhere who will worry."

Theresa stiffens, and I brace myself for the storm. It doesn’t come, thankfully. Theresa sniffs and scratches either side of her nose, then says, “His Lordship has said he will ask around. He has friends among the constables and others who keep their noses to the ground. I trust that he’ll do what is best. He always does. As for us, there’s precious little we can do but continue to do our jobs.”

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