“Agreed,” Charlotte replied. “Let’s do it this morning before we begin the other interviews this afternoon.”
“Interviews?” Laurel asked.
“I’ve placed an advertisement in the paper and offered a reward for any information that proves pertinent,” Rebecca said, still writing. “I’ve asked people to come today and tomorrow between the hours of noon and four.”
Her breath caught. “That is a very good idea.” She gave her a small smile of thanks, which surely did not reach her eyes. All this talk had stirred up her emotions and now she was being plagued by the dreams nightly.
But the sooner they completed this investigation, the more quickly she could move forward. Hopefully.
Parker stood at the bank of the river in the village of Warrington, staring into its merry depths. Nearly the end of summer, and the water bubbled cheerily as it passed over rocks, its sandy bottom clear and enticing.
But that’s not how it appeared then.
He’d been sixteen and he’d come for the spring to visit with his grandmother. It was a trip he made every few years, though that had been the very last.
But he’d come to stay, as had been the tradition. The dowager countess had loved having him as a child, and he’d loved coming. She allowed him more freedom to wander and explore, instead of the ceaseless lessons he’d had at home.
All the while, she’d tell him stories of his own father’s childhood, infused with tutorials on how to be an be an earl when his turn came.
Here in Warrington, he had some of his fondest memories, which made his last visit all the more terrible.
He’d been walking the river, thinking about everything and nothing in particular, when a strange churning and bubbling had caught his notice. Moving closer, he watched in horror as a girl passed by him under the water. Her eyes caught his, large and filled with fear and already nearly of the other world.
Without thought, he’d dove in.
He’d always been a strong swimmer and he’d cut through the water, reaching her in seconds, pulling her from the icy depths.
After dragging her onto the bank, she lay motionless and without thought, he’d turned her on her side and pounded on her back until she’d vomited up a ridiculous amount of water.
Only a single word passed her lips: “Daniella.”
But that was all he’d needed to know. There was another girl. And heedless of the cold that was already seeping into his bones, he’d set off down the river in a sprint.
He’d searched much of the day, following the twisting banks two villages over before he’d given up his search. Daniella had either been found or she was gone, and he’d returned to his grandmother a shivering heap as he’d stripped off his clothes and stepped into a hot bath.
But not even the steaming waters could undo the damage of the cold, and he’d developed an infection in the lungs that had taken him close to a month from which to recover.
By the time he’d finally grown strong enough to be out and about, he was sent home, where his parents had allowed him even less freedom than before.
He frowned. A year later they’d died in a carriage accident and, becoming the earl, his grandmother had come to live with him.
He’d not been back to Warrington since.
But here he was, staring into the very river that had seemed to alter his own course.
A carriage rumbled by, stopping on Main Street, three distinguished women emerging from the vehicle.
The first, tall and thin, held her chin high. The second was striking in her beauty and bearing, and the third…
The third made his breath catch.
Younger, she looked like a rare flower…an orchid, perhaps, in her white muslin gown and her wide-brimmed hat.
Her thick, shining brown hair was twisted back in an intricate coif that displayed its abundance, her gentle curves swayed as she walked.
The three women collected themselves and then made their way into the constable’s office.
He cocked his head, his curiosity piqued. Why would three such women need the help of the law?