Free Lady of Spirit, A by Shelley Adina Page B

father’s mistake in gambling her inheritance on the combustion engine had put paid to that, and while it had left her penniless, it also freed her to choose her own path. Up until a month ago, Claire had believed Lizzie free to do the same.
    But now she wondered. Would the Seacombes welcome Tigg into the bosom of the family in much the way they had welcomed Maggie? Or would his prospects as a lieutenant in the Royal Aeronautics Corps be sufficient to recommend him as a grandson-in-law, if their attachment remained true until Lizzie was of age?
    Or was Claire’s mind galloping ahead in paths where it had no business, and she was spinning a fancy out of a moonlit night, a white dress, and the scent of roses?
    “Is everyone gone?” Lizzie asked. “We slipped away when Miss Penford began at the piano. Is Maggie with you?”
    “No,” Claire replied. “I thought she might be with you.”
    Tigg shook his head. “We haven’t seen her.”
    “Then she must have gone up to bed, because she was not in the drawing room when everyone took their leave. Which reminds me, Lizzie—since dinner was in your and Maggie’s honor, it was not well done of either of you not to see the guests off at the end of it.”
    “Oh … I am sorry, Lady.” They had reached the terrace now, and Lizzie’s chagrin was illuminated by the wide bars of light falling through the French doors. “I never thought of it. I—we—”
    “It’s my fault, Lady,” Tigg said. “I convinced her to take a walk along the cliff-top, and we lost track of time.”
    “It happens,” Andrew said easily. “But there are bound to be several such occasions over the next two weeks, so bear it in mind. One’s obligations to one’s guests take precedence over … moonlit walks upon the cliffs.”
    And whatever else might have gone on there.
    Claire and Lizzie bade the gentlemen good-night on the gallery, and then went their separate ways to their rooms.
    But when Claire stepped into the girls’ room, expecting to see Maggie, she was surprised to find it empty, the beds neatly turned back, and their nightgowns laid out by the maid upon the coverlet.
    “That’s odd,” Lizzie said. “Where could she be?”
    “It is not like her to disappear without you,” Claire said. “And she is not with Claude.”
    “Perhaps she has gone into her mother’s old room. She found a letter, you know, Lady. Under the floorboard, when we were exploring. We believe it was from a gentleman to her mother, in 1877. I’ll just run along there and check, shall I, in case she has gone back for another look?”
    “At eleven at night?” But with the Mopsies, one ought not to put limits on what they might do, no matter what time of night it was.
    Lizzie was back in five minutes, shaking her head. “I don’t understand it.”
    “Did she seem upset to you this evening?” Claire asked carefully. “Distressed in any way that might have caused her to behave rashly?”
    “Maggie? Rash? I don’t think so. She seemed perfectly content, and she was laughing at dinner. But then, sitting next to Claude would make anybody laugh. One simply can’t help it.”
    Perhaps Claire had taken offense at something that existed only in her own mind, and Maggie was not in the least upset. But be that as it may, she would not be able to sleep until she knew her girl to be safely in her bed.
    “I shall fetch Tigg and Mr. Malvern,” Claire said at last, “and we will mount a search—quietly. I do not wish your grandparents or the staff to be alarmed.”
    Fortunately, neither Tigg nor Andrew had got much further than removing their jackets, and when they assembled in the gallery overlooking the front entry once more, Claire told them what was amiss. “Tigg and I will take the main floor and downstairs—the kitchens and so forth. Andrew, you take Lizzie and search the upper floors. If you can get out onto the roof, do so, since—” She flashed a smile at Lizzie. “—the girls have a particular