Page 14 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“And I? Am I not allowed the luxury of emotion?”
“Ambrose!” Mama said sharply.
“Oh, fah to your coolheadedness, Abigail! Forget Ladyship. It’s unbecoming to you as a member of the human race!”
“That’ll be all, Ambrose,” Mama replied stoically.
“I must agree with Papa,” said Emily.
Mama shot her a look. “Child, this is not the time.”
“Well, when is the time? My sister is missing, taken by some ... animal. And here we’re supposed to behave like court magistrates listening to cold evidence as if our hearts weren’t rent into a thousand pieces!”
Here she broke down, burying her face in her hands. She felt a warm touch on her shoulder, and then Papa’s firm arms wrapped her in a loving embrace. She let her tears flow freely now.
When she looked up again, Mama was approaching, her arms open to receive her.
“Dear child,” said Mama. “Dear, dear child. We will find your sister. And we will not be cut down as a family, no matter what happens.”
“Still,” said Papa, “we ought to know everything we can about this monster. Can you describe him in detail?”
Lisbelle did so, to the horror of everyone listening: the bead-like eyes, the hulking shape, the folds of the face marked by tiny craters like new cheese.
“Did he give you a name, Lisbelle?” said Lord Oliver.
“Garret!” she exclaimed suddenly. “He said his name was Garret! Oh God, thank you, dear Father in Heaven! Garret!”
Papa stiffened. “Mrs Andrews, do you know anyone by that name?”
“I’ve been dealing with Mr Lansing the butcher now for well-nigh on seven years and never once heard him mention anyone by the name of Garret.”
“Have him summoned to this house at once. We’ll tend to Lisbelle.”
“Right, M’Lord,” said Mrs Andrews, a hard woman of forty-three with a worn face and bright, staring eyes.
Lord Ambrose turned to Oliver and put a hand on his shoulder. “Dear boy, I guess this isn’t the kind of wedding day you’d envisioned?”
“I would be lying if I told you I didn’t share the vengeance you yourself hold in your heart, My Lord.”
“The constable has been summoned. May I entrust you to see to it he’s well informed when he arrives?”
“It would be the least I can do, My Lord.”
With this, Oliver gave a slight bow of the head and left the room.
When he was gone, Papa drifted into the corner of the room, appearing as though lost in terrible thought.
Emily followed him there. “Papa, I'm sorry for my outburst earlier. We will find her safe. I know it.”
He stared at her, trying to forge a smile on his face to no avail. “Of course, my heart.”
Mama came to comfort him, and Emily moved away to allow her to do so. She remained within earshot, however, pretending to examine a spot on her dress.
“It’s going to be alright. You’re taking all the necessary steps.”
“I know,” he said in a harsh whisper, “it’s just that ...”
“What is it, my love?”
