She had finally dropped off to sleep. When she woke, it seemed as if a lead weight had attached itself to her spine. She dressed quickly and ran up to the attics to the room Sally shared with Agnes, but Sally had not slept in her bed.
Jo went straight to the servants’ hall, hoping
she might have just arrived. She had not. No one had seen her. All the servants talked about it. The scullery maid suggested Sally had gone home to the country. “Some girls don’t like it ’ere,” she said. “Sally seemed happy here, though. Oh, I hope she’s all right.”
“London can be dangerous for the unwary,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Cross, said grimly. “I advise all my maids to be careful. A girl can get in trouble in the blink of an eye.”
A servant went out again to search the area. He came back and shook his head.
By luncheon, Jo was frantic. She roamed the dining room, unable to sit and eat. Who could she turn to for help? They must call a constable, but would he be able to help her, when Sally vanished yesterday? One name came into her mind. Reade. She hadn’t forgiven him for interrogating her. But she still trusted Reade to accomplish what others could not.
A maid set plates of chicken soup before them. “I must speak to Lord Reade,” Jo said, “The baron will help us.” He might disapprove of her, but that hardly mattered if he found Sally.
“Why do you think that gentleman can help, Jo?” Aunt Mary asked. “You’ve only danced with him once, and a few days ago, you said you found him annoying,”
“And we don’t have his address,” her father added, picking up his spoon.
“No, but the Cartwrights live in Grosvenor Square, which isn’t far from here. We pass the square every day.”
“Very well. I shan’t risk this interfering with my digestion.” Her father put down his napkin and, with a regretful glance at the soup, rose from the table. “I shall send a note to the Cartwrights.”
“No! We must go to see them, Papa,” Jo said. “They may not get the note for hours!”
“One doesn’t just visit people unannounced, Jo,” he said with a perplexed frown. “The Cartwrights are decent people, so I suppose they won’t mind. But I’m not sure how they can help find your maid, do you?”
“Mr. Cartwright is sure to know where Lord Reade lives.”
“And supposing he tells us? Although he may not wish to. One doesn’t hand out addresses willy-nilly. The baron may be busy or away from London. And perhaps he won’t care to find your maid.” He patted her cheek. “I’m not sure what has happened to your usually sound reasoning. But I shall indulge you. The worst that can happen to us is we won’t be permitted entry.”
In the hall, her father shrugged into his coat. “Just don’t get your hopes up, Jo.”
“We must find her, Papa. I am responsible. And there’s nothing else I can think to do.” Jo tied the strings of her bonnet. “Mr. Spears, should Sally return before us, please tell her to await me in my bedchamber,” she said to the butler.
“I shall instruct Mrs. Cross,” Spears said, looking affronted.
The door knocker banged, echoing around the hall. Startled, they gazed at each other and waited in breathless anticipation as the butler stalked over to open it.
Sally huddled on the porch hatless, her eyes enormous pools of dark distress. Her rumpled skirts and pelisse looked damp and badly soiled, and her hair escaped down her neck.
“Sally!” Jo leaped forward and dragged the girl inside.
Sally shuddered. “I’m sorry, Miss Jo. I should go to the servant’s entrance, but I’ve been so frightened.”
With a sob of relief, Jo threw her arms around her. She drew the distressed girl into the parlor.
Her father shut the parlor door on the butler and went to the sideboard, where he removed the stopper from the sherry decanter.
Sally sank down on the sofa and struggled to get the words out while Jo fired off questions, the maid struggled to answer.
Her father handed Sally a glass of sherry. She took a long sip and coughed.
Jo, losing patience, took hold of her arm, almost spilling the drink. “What happened to you, Sally? Tell us quickly! We’ve been so worried!”
Her shoulders shook. “They kidnapped me.” Tears tracked down her face.
“Kidnapped?” Reade had been right in warning her. Why hadn’t she listened to him? Jo rummaged in her reticule and pressed the handkerchief into Sally’s hand. “Did they hurt you? Who could have done such a dreadful thing?”
“They didn’t hurt me, but I’ve no idea who they were,” Sally wailed. “The strings on one parcel had come undone, and as I stooped down to retie it, a man grabbed me from behind. He put his hand over my mouth and bundled me into a carriage pulled up beside us. Before I could twist around to see who he was, he dragged a black hood over my head and shoved me to the floor. I tried to scream, but he poked me in the back and snarled at me. Told me to keep quiet, or he’d throttle me. I must have fainted because I remember very little of the journey or where we went.”