With his elbow, he knocked a nearly empty decanter to the floor, crystal shattering and flying off in every direction. “Georgie!” he bellowed as he came to his feet, his eyes scanning the study where his sister Beatrice had learned her sums and later Greek and Latin. The curtains were open, weak gray light barely penetrating the glass and rain battering the windows. “Shit, no. No, no, no.” Even as he crossed the room, avoiding shards of crystal and spilled brandy, a sense of déjà vu swamping him, he knew she was gone. He almost expected to find Critchley standing in the hall with her dress in his arms, Davenport waiting behind him with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. But the hall was empty and dark, the house silent beyond the relentless rain hammering away above him and all around him as he ran for the stairs. A tray of neatly stacked dishes and glassware sat on the floor just outside his chamber door and Henry knew a moment’s hope. Surely she hadn’t taken the time to clear away the fragments of their meal only to disappear into the night.
