Page 29 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
He re-mounted and began afresh.
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Morning broke just as Aspendale came into view. Every bone ached, and his heart was rent in two.
An ostler helped him to dismount. He went on to the house without acknowledging the man.
Foster opened the door to him, and even the steadfast butler seemed to lose his mental footing upon seeing the ragged man before him.
“May I come in?”
“Certainly, M’Lord. Shall I fetch His Lordship?”
“Please, Foster.”
The butler closed the door behind him. Oliver stared up at the ceiling of the entry hall, with its magnificent depictions of figures from Greek mythology painted in vibrant colours against stormy skies.
“M’Lord, are you in need of aid?”
“I am in need of a bride,” he said flatly.
The butler’s chest heaved with a silent sigh. “Yes, sir. Perhaps some brandy while you wait for His Lordship?”
“Water, please. I thirst heartily.”
Foster led him into the drawing room and bade him sit. He did so without being wholly conscious of it.
After but a moment, Foster returned with carafe and tumbler and Lord Stamford behind him.
“Oliver, my good man,” he said, his face one of worry.
“I’m afraid, My Lord,” returned Oliver, “that I have no news to report.”
“You look as though you’ve been through some ... physical ordeal.”
“I’ve merely been out all night searching for Lady Madeline, My Lord.”
“No,” said Lord Stamford, astonished. “My boy, you can’t take this all upon yourself.”
“I have four men with me.”
“That is awfully noble of you, Oliver, but I do wish you notified me beforehand so that I might’ve joined your forces with my own.”
Oliver sipped his water, eyes closed and feeling the cooling liquid tunnel its way down his throat. When he opened his eyes, some clarity had returned to him.
“Perhaps, My Lord, that would have been wise.”
“I assume you will be going out again?”
“I hope to do it tonight.”
“You need rest.”
“I need to find her,” Oliver said, raising the glass once more.
Lord Stamford put a hand on his arm. “You have business to attend, do you not?”
“The textile import faction of jolly England will survive without my involvement for but a short time more.”
