Ana saw her settled into bed and drew the curtains. “I’ll have George bring you water and a cold cloth for your eyes.”
“Thank you,” Tessie said weakly. “Ana... you mustn’t go to London alone. It could be an unscrupulous person attempting to prey upon your good and trusting nature.”
“I’ve thought of that. I will exercise the utmost caution. I’m to meet an elderly lady in a public house. I don’t see how harm could come to me there.”
“Take one of the duke’s footmen with you. Or, better yet, His Grace.”
Ana promised, even though she had no intention of bringing Dex. The letter had explicitly forbidden it and she meant to ascertain the veracity of the woman’s claim herself, before involving others.
She had ample time on the long ride to somewhat collect her thoughts, which had grown tumultuous and impossible to wrangle in the aftermath of Dex’s departure. She didn’t wish to see him in person again, not yet. To do so would break her heart afresh, and she needed time and sufficient distance in which to let it mend—if doing so was possible.
But she also knew that she owed him some explanation, some courtesy to answer the kindness he’d shown her, the goodness in him that drove him to help those in need.
She scrawled out a note on parchment paper perched on her knees, the carriage’s lurching gait making her handwriting as wild and scattered as her feelings. It was short and to the point, outlining the contents of the letter she’d received and her intention to travel to Littlebredy to find out the truth for herself.
She couldn’t help the tears that fell, smudging the penciled words here and there. Let him read between the lines and know how badly he’d hurt her. She doubted he would care. He was too far gone, locked back up in the dungeon of his chosen existence.
The coachman, spurred on by her flushed and tear-stained face, had heeded her instruction to make haste, and she arrived outside of Dex’s townhouse a full half day sooner than she’d expected. She looked furtively out the window for any activity that might signify Dex’s presence inside, but the house seemed still.
She didn’t knock on the front door, just slipped inside in the hopes that nobody would be alerted to her visit. The folded piece of paper with its blunt penciled lines could be left on the side table in the lofty foyer, where McArdle, who had accompanied the duke to London, would surely spot it and fulfill his duty (as always), delivering it to his master immediately upon receipt.
She almost fulfilled this mission. The missive was delivered to the glossy inlaid surface of the table and she was turning away, hood drawn low over her brow, when an imperious voice sounded from a nearby doorway.
“Analise? Is that you? Whatever are you doing creeping about in your own home?”
It was Lady Glynis.
Ana turned slowly. “Why, Lady Glynis, what a surprise. What are you doing here?”
The lady snorted, looking down her patrician nose at the intruder. “Didn’t I ask that very question of you first? I can see that time and marriage have not improved your manners. I am staying here at Warburton’s behest while my London apartments are remodeled. Did he not mention this to you?” She subjected Ana to a particularly searching gaze.
Ana bristled impatiently. “No, Lady Glynis, he did not. But we haven’t been in contact in the last few days. I have only just arrived.”
“How unusual. Did you truly travel to London without prior communication? He never mentioned you would be joining him. He’s been in the most frightful of moods since his own arrival.”
“His moods are his own concern,” Ana snapped. This final barrier between herself and her quest to find her father felt unbearable. And she was terrified of seeing Dex. If Lady Glynis delayed her long enough that he intercepted them... “If you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”
“Not staying?” Disapproval dripped from Lady Glynis’s voice. “A lover’s quarrel? I swear, I will never understand the peculiar nature of your relationship with my nephew. He has been completely changed by you.”
“Not completely,” Ana said quietly. “But I really must take my leave, Lady Glynis. Please forgive my lack of manners.” She glanced involuntarily at her note, sitting on the side table, and then gave the surrounding hall one last regretful look.
“I have always done so before,” sniffed the lady. “Why should I stop now?” But Ana was already gone, the door closing behind her. If Ana had glanced back, she might have seen Lady Glynislooking perplexedly after her, then turning her formidable gaze to the rectangle of paper Ana had left behind.
The Rose & Crown had been surprisingly easy to find, with the help of several strangers, happy to give direction to a young lady with excitement and hope filling her heart and eyes, and a determined air. It almost felt as if London itself wanted to help her on her way and was exhibiting its kindest side to her. She pushed down the doubts when they slithered through her mind, spreading shadows and despair.
My father is waiting for me, she thought to herself.He needs me, repeated like a prayer. She arrived out of breath, from anticipation as much as exercise, and darted inside the tavern before she lost her nerve.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low lights inside. The pipe smoke and the thick odors of steak and kidney pie combined to form a greasy haze that obscured the occupants of the busy tavern. She fought her way to the bar, evading elbows making busy work of steaming plates and men leaning back in their chairs, roaring with laughter and shouting rowdy boasts and toasts at each other.
“Pardon me,” she asked the barkeep, an affable-looking man with a cauliflower ear. “I’m looking for a Margerie Dunnock, who has taken a room here.”
“Eh?” He cupped his free hand to his good ear, leaning across the bar top.
“I’m looking for—” but Ana got no further. A hand fell on her shoulder. She turned around and saw, swimming before her in the smoke and murk, a middle-aged woman with a nondescript dun-colored cloak fastened about her, bulky and shapeless. She had ona pair of round spectacles under the brim of a straw bonnet with sad little brown feathers emerging from its brim.
“Your Grace?” asked the woman in a soft, breathy voice that Ana could barely hear.
“Mrs. Dunnock?” Ana asked, leaning in eagerly. “I’m happy to make your acquaintance. May we speak in private?”