Felt truly safe.
The wind battered Ivy until she almost fell over, and then her leg caught. She tumbled into the ditch by the side of the road and lay there panting and staring at the swirling blackness around her.
The tears froze on her cheeks. Ivy thought about screaming, but there was no one—no one who could hear her, rescue her, take her home or to Nettie.
For the first time in her life, the fear went beyond the surface. It dug into her and kept her from moving a single limb. But it was more than fear. It was reality.
She might die in this ditch.
Ivy had never been afraid of dying until that moment. Ivy was afraid of almost everything one could mention, from dogs to horses to bees to rivers, but never before had death been more than a distant idea, a pathway to Heaven.
Tonight it was real and big and black, and it howled … almost like a dog.
“Awoo! Awoo!”
Ivy blinked. Was that really death? She rubbed a hand over ice-encrusted eyelids and tried to think. She didn’t think so—but perhaps. Anyway, it wasn’t scary. It came across as more comical than frightening.
Then the howler was upon her, poking a damp nose in her face and lapping her with a big tongue and smelling like a wet dog.
Ivy froze. Would it bite her?
“Opie, you mutt! Get out—well, I’ll be … Hullo? Who’s there?” It was a boy’s voice, somewhere between child and man and squeaky around the edges. But it was definitely human.
Boots landed beside her head, and Ivy managed to push herself up slightly. Upon opening her eyes, a lantern’s light momentarily blinded her, but soon her vision cleared, and she looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Miss Ivy? Miss Ivy Knight?” The young man squinted and set the lantern down on a nearby rock, then held out his hand. “You’re not even wearing a coat, Miss Ivy.”
“N-no.” Ivy put her numb fingers in his, and he yanked her to her feet with surprising force. “I-I—”
“Never mind explanations. I’m glad Opie found you!” He gestured down at the little spaniel. “Let’s get you out of the cold—you must be almost frozen. The gatehouse isn’t far.”
Ivy glanced around, then back up at him—he was probably a foot taller than her. “All right.”
He grabbed the lantern and started up the ditch, and when he moved back, Ivy almost fell over. She hadn’t realized her legs were so numb, her body so trembly. She tried to walk but stumbled.
“Oh, glory.” The boy popped down in the ditch beside her. “Here now. Arms around my neck. I’ll carry you—you look a lot lighter than a newborn foal.”
Ivy wasn’t sure if she was or wasn’t lighter than a newborn foal, but she imagined so based on how big horses were. “I-I think so.” She allowed him to pick her up like a baby and carry her out of the ditch.
“Nettie will know what to do,” the young man mumbled as he walked toward the gatehouse, the lantern swinging from his elbow and casting an eerie glow over the snow and his wet, loping dog ahead of them.
Ivy closed her eyes tightly to block it all out. Nettie would indeed know what to do—and then, hopefully, everything would be all right.
Alice dashed into the parlor she’d left not ten minutes before. “Mother!” Her voice had a high-pitched tone to it, a panicked tone that made Nora wince. Yet fast on the tails of the wince came a tightness in her chest as worry rose.
“Alice.” Claire’s eyes were hard as she regarded her daughter. “Calm yourself.”
Nora wondered how Claire could be anxious about what people thought when her child stood before her, clearly distressed. She rose and followed Claire across the room and into the hallway.
Alice had caught her breath enough to speak, though her chest still rose and fell irregularly as the words poured out. “I went upstairs to our room, but Ivy wasn’t there! I looked everywhere, and I couldn’t find her. Mummy, what if she’s lost somewhere?”
Alice’s reversion to the childish “Mummy” told Nora everything she needed to know about her granddaughter’s sincerity, but Claire apparently felt otherwise. “Are you sure? She likes to hide under the bed, darling.”
“I checked there! I checked everywhere. Mummy—”
“Shush, no.” Claire put a restraining hand on Alice’s shoulder, and Nora could see the truth catching up to her. Alice wouldn’t lie or exaggerate—of course she wouldn’t. Claire knew that, and if she allowed herself to think about it too long, Nora was sure she’d panic.
And that wouldn’t help anyone. Panicking never did.
Nora gently placed a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Where would she have gone? Does she have special spots, places that hold meaning to her? She was panicking; where would she go to calm down?”
Claire’s head jerked from side to side. “I-I don’t know. I’m not sure …” Her lips trembled, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “I need Philip. He’ll be able to get people organized to find her. She’s in the house; she must be.”
Nora took Claire’s hand and squeezed it. “Why do you say that?”
“Ivy is afraid of the dark, and of snow and … everything. She would never venture outside.” Claire glanced toward the door across the foyer and shook her head. “No, she’s in here somewhere.” She released an audible breath, and her tremors subsided.
Nora wasn’t so sure. Ivy had seemed wild when she saw her last, and she wished she’d obeyed her instincts and followed her. However, it was too late for regrets; now it was time to act.
Claire walked back into the parlor to fetch her husband, and Nora asked Alice a few more questions. No, Ivy wasn’t in the nursery or the playroom; no, she wasn’t in the water closet. Alice had been thorough—she’d even stopped by her mother’s bedroom on the way down.
“I suppose she could have gone to Uncle Charlie’s room, but I don’t even know where he’s staying.” Alice shifted from side to side, eyes darting to and fro, her face stoic but her hands nervous. “I’m afraid she’s gone, Grandmother—and I don’t know where.”
Poor child. Nora gave her a quick hug and reassured her as best she could. But, like Alice, she had a bad feeling about this.
Where could Ivy have run off to?
“She can’t have gone far,” Nora said as Philip and Claire emerged. “What do you suggest doing?”
“Philip and I will check a few more places upstairs. There’s a small chance Alice simply overlooked her, or perhaps Ivy got lost in a hallway.” Claire smiled brightly, as if sure her younger daughter was safe. “After that, we might have to enlist the staff to assist us.”
“I see.” Nora took a deep breath. “Very well. Let’s start with that.”
Almost before Nora finished speaking, a harried maid rushed in, eyes wide. “Mrs. Knight?”
Nora blinked. It was unusual for a maid to address her mistress without a butler or housekeeper essentially “translating.”
“Yes, Dotty?” Claire said.
“Mrs. Knight, one of the stable boys just came—he says Miss Ivy is at the gatehouse with Mrs. Jameson. I … I would have fetched Mr. Marlin to tell you, but—”