Ewan walked back into the ballroom, searching for Averson and Henrietta. He had spoken with General Oliver about the soldiers, but there had been no disturbance as of yet. The General had been liaising with Davids, whose job it was to run between the other four soldiers and have them report any peculiarities. So far, they had seen nothing.

He frowned as he approached Averson, glancing around for his wife. “Where is Henrietta?” he asked, without preamble.

Averson shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest.”

“Are you inebriated?” He shook Averson by the shoulders.

“I have imbibed, but I would not say I am inebriated.” A giggle spilled out of his mouth, confirming Ewan’s suspicions.

“Where is my wife, Averson?” he asked again, his tone sharp.

“She left.”

“Where did she go?”

He smirked drunkenly. “I cannot say, for I do not know. She disappeared into the crowd and I have not seen her since. She looks extraordinarily splendid this evening, does she not? Quite divine.”

“Averson, where is my wife?” He raised his voice, his eyes narrowed in anger and panic. He scoured the ballroom for any sign of her, but her face could not be seen amongst the revelers. She is not here. She is not here! Where can she be?

Just then, a figure approached. A figure that Ewan had not expected to see. Indeed, it took all of his strength not to lunge at the wretch, who dared to stand before him.

“You,” Ewan hissed, scowling at Seth Booth.

“Her Ladyship is missing, is she not?” he asked bluntly.

“How dare you! Where have you put her? What have you done with her? I demand that you answer me this instant.”

Seth folded his hands behind his back. “I am not the man you seek, My Lord. I did not do anything to your wife, though I believe I know who has taken her. Indeed, I made efforts to interject, but he got there before I could speak to Her Ladyship. And, given our past history and your present suspicions, I did not think she would believe me, even if I were to warn her.”

Ewan frowned. “Warn her? What are you babbling about, man? What have you done with her?”

“My wife gave her a warning, as I had suspicions of my own—suspicions as to who was terrorizing you,” he explained swiftly. “I heard some of it from my master, and the rest I was attempting to piece together. I feared he may strike tonight, but I did not know how to alert you. You would have thought it another ploy of mine, and so I came to try and stop it myself.”

“Be plain with me, Mr. Booth,” Ewan urged, his mind in turmoil. Seth looked rather too calm for a man who wished to cause harm to Henrietta.

“Your manservant, Gerome—he took her. Shortly after you left her here with Lord Averson, Gerome came running up to her and said something that I could not hear. I imagine he told her that you had asked him to collect her, or something of that ilk. She trusted him—you both did—and so she left with him. I tried to trail them, but I lost them in the darkness.”

Panic ricocheted through Ewan’s nerves. “Gerome? You are certain?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Why, Gerome should not even be here. I left him at the Old Bell to attend to his duties.”

Seth nodded. “It was the perfect ruse, to get close to Her Ladyship.”

“Which direction did they go in?”

“I did not see.”

Ewan gritted his teeth, trying to fathom a solution amidst his confusion. Why would Gerome have betrayed him like this? He did not want to believe it, and yet… he had not instructed Gerome to come here. There could be no reason for his presence and no reason for his conversation with Henrietta. He hated to admit it, but it sounded as if Seth was correct in his assumptions. All this time, they had been watching the wrong manservant.

“I must go to General Oliver,” Ewan said abruptly. “You must come with me, to tell him what you have told me. We must decipher Lady Peterborough’s whereabouts, before he can cause her further distress.”

“Certainly, My Lord.”

Without wasting another moment, they hurried out of the ballroom and headed towards the location of Ronscales. After speaking with Aaron earlier, the General had informed Ewan that he would be accompanying Davids to check in on his men, starting with Ronscales. Ewan just hoped he would still be there. These gardens were vast, and they had a ticking clock above them, counting down the minutes of Henrietta’s safety.

They raced towards the Northern exit, arriving not a moment too soon. By the looks of it, Aaron was preparing to leave, no doubt heading to visit with another of his men. I am not too late. We can waste no time. The General looked up in alarm as Ewan hurtled towards him at a fearsome sprint, skidding to a halt on the gravel path leading up to the grand entrance.

“General, I am so glad to have found you,” he gasped, catching his breath.

“Whatever is the matter, My Lord? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

It is All Hallow’s Eve and the ghosts are rising. If Gerome was the culprit, what had he meant by that? What ghosts were he referring to? It did not make any sense.

Aaron’s gaze turned to Seth. “What are you doing here?” His tone was scathing.

“Mr. Booth, tell the General what you told me,” Ewan urged.

“Lord Peterborough’s manservant, Gerome, has led your daughter away from the ball, and I fear he has done so with nefarious intentions,” Seth replied obediently. “I understand from my observations that you have suspected me of foul play, but I have been investigating Gerome. I discovered him at the postal office taking letters that did not belong to him. I knew he was in the employment of Lord Peterborough, and began to suspect that something was amiss with his behavior. I did not wish to come to you until I had suitable evidence, but I fear I ought to have spoken sooner.”

Aaron’s mouth fell open. “Gerome is the villainous wretch who wrote those letters?”

Ewan nodded. “It would appear that we have been hoodwinked—all of us. Henrietta included. She is in danger, General. We do not know where he has taken her, and we do not know why.” He paused. “I received a note from him, regarding ‘rising ghosts.’ I know he spoke of similar in your letter. Do you have any understanding of that?”

Aaron frowned. “I cannot think of anything.”

“Have your men all reported back?” Ewan pressed, knowing they were losing precious seconds.

“I have spoken with Ronscales, as you see, and Davids has gone to receive reports from Wright, Clutterbuck, and Fletcher.”

Hurried footsteps on the gravel made them all turn. Davids was sprinting towards them at full pelt, his eyes wild. He did not stop until he stood before them, his chest heaving with the exertion of the run. Through his gasps, he spoke.

“Clutterbuck has been discovered at the side of the garden path, General,” he wheezed. “He is alive, but he took a nasty knock to the back of the head. Wright is with him, and Fletcher is heading towards the Eastern exit, but I fear the devil may have already escaped us.” Only then did he notice Seth, who stood silently, a slight smirk on his face. Ewan could understand his triumphant expression, for all of this proved his innocence.

“We must go there at once,” Aaron ordered. He took off before anyone could say a word, running towards his daughter. Ewan prayed they would not arrive to find something terrible had happened. Or worse, that she had vanished into thin air, like a specter in the night.

His heart ached as he sprinted after the General and his men, fearing the worst but hoping for a miracle. He could not lose Henrietta now. He had promised to keep her safe, and he had failed in his task. I should not have left her side. I should have remained with her. I should not have strayed from my post. To suffer her loss would break him beyond repair. There would be no recovery from that.

He had contemplated suicide once before. He hoped he would not be forced into that darkness again, from which there was only one possible escape.

What is the meaning of these ghosts? Aaron thought to himself as they thundered along the Eastern path, heading for the exit. They passed Wright and Clutterbuck at the edge of the nearby forest and paused to explain where they were going. Clutterbuck was awake but dazed, a streak of blood swiped across his temple.

“I did not see who hit me, General,” he apologized, dipping his head in shame.

“Do not worry about that now. Get yourself into the warmth, and we will come and find you later. The man who struck you has taken my daughter, and we must find her before he can bring harm to her,” Aaron explained rapidly, before continuing on down the dimly-lit path.

They pressed on through the gloom, the torchlight from the pathway dwindling into darkness. The moonlight gave them a glow to see by, but they had to be careful not to wander off the path and into the bordering woodland. Owls hooted in the branches, and creatures snuffled in the undergrowth, but Aaron barely paid the noises any attention. Those sounds did not belong to his beloved daughter.

Why is this man doing this? Does he bear some vendetta against Lord Peterborough? Have they squabbled? It did not seem likely, but he could not fathom another reason. No matter how he strived, he could not conjure the face of a ghost in his mind.

Ten minutes later, a bridge came into view. Aaron slowed to a walk, with Ewan, Ronscales, Seth, and Davids coming to a halt beside him. Two figures stood in the center of the bridge, though one seemed to be on the precipice of the masonry, beyond the protection of the balustrade.

“It is Gerome,” Ewan whispered.

“And Henrietta?” Aaron’s eyesight was not what it had once been.

“I believe so, though it is hard to see.”

Aaron nodded. “We must approach with caution. We do not know of his mental state, and he may push her if we are too bold.”

It was too late. Ewan had already shouted. “Stop! Let her go!”

Gerome whirled around, his eyes narrowing.

“Approach steadily, as we have lost the element of surprise,” Aaron warned, Ewan appearing shamefaced. Aaron could tell that his son-in-law had not been able to help the words from tumbling out, and he did not blame him. It was hard to see a loved one in trouble and keep one’s wits intact.

Slowly, they began to make their way towards the two figures. They had almost reached the entrance to the bridge, when a voice called out through the still night.

“That is far enough,” Gerome shouted. “One more step, and I will push her. There is a rope around her neck, and she will hang if you disobey.”

Henrietta stood on the edge of the outer balustrade, her body shaking unsteadily. Her wide gaze turned towards her father in desperation, a soft sob rasping from the back of her throat. Her mouth opened, as if she wished to say something, but Gerome tugged violently on the rope and silenced her in one swift movement. She choked, her hands scrabbling at the cord. A moment later, he loosened his hold, allowing her to breathe.

Aaron froze, the others stopping beside him. “We will not move, Gerome,” he promised.

“So, you have come to save her, have you?” Gerome spat, his glinting eyes turned towards Aaron. “You would rescue her. She is precious to you, is she not?”

“Gerome, please. She is my daughter.”

“You show concern for her, yet you showed none for me,” Gerome replied sharply. “You showed none to my mother, whose only mistake in life was to love you. She trusted you, and you abandoned us both.”

“What?” Aaron murmured, frowning in confusion. “I do not understand. Release my daughter, and we may discuss this further.”

“No, we will talk under my terms. I am finished with being subservient. I will follow no more orders,” he shot back. “If I do not like your answers, your daughter’s life will be forfeit.”

Aaron’s mind felt foggy and disoriented. “I do not understand, Gerome. Who are you? Tell me, so we might talk more—so I might resolve this peacefully.”

“You are not a creature of peace, General. You are a creature of war, who only understands violence and suffering,” Gerome seethed. “That is why it has to be this way. Otherwise, you will not be punished for your crimes. Otherwise, my mother will never have her vengeance.”

Something clicked inside Aaron’s head. “You are French, are you not?”

“Do you finally recognize me?” Gerome’s tone was bitter and mocking.

“Your last name is Buffond?”

“At last… he sees me. The ghost of his past.”

A memory flitted back into Aaron’s mind, from long ago. He had been a younger man then, though he had not been as impulsive as some. In the midst of war, with chaos raging all around them and no end in sight, he had sought comfort in the arms of a beautiful young woman. She had lived in a nearby village that they had recently freed, and though their romance had been fleeting, he had cared for the girl deeply.

Seraphine Buffond. I remember you now… I looked for you. I looked for the boy. Oh, what the years have done to you. Would you believe me now, if I sought to make amends?

“Where is Seraphine?” Aaron asked, the memory causing his heart to twist with guilt and regret. He had truly searched for the boy and his mother, but they had been moved on so many times that he did not know where to find them. And when he had finally returned, nobody could tell him where they were.

“Dead,” Gerome said bluntly. “She died of grief.”

“I am sorry, Gerome.”

“It is much too late for sorry, Father,” he cut coldly. “Now, you will suffer as I suffered.”

“I cared about your mother, Gerome,” Aaron went on, buying some time. “You may not believe me, but I did. My battalion was moved on after the fighting ended near your village. I tried to find you in the years that followed, but nobody knew anything of you or your mother. It was as if you had vanished.”

Gerome scowled, tugging tighter on the rope around Henrietta’s neck. “You lie.”

“No, I do not. If you would release my daughter, I can show you the proof,” he explained. “I have documents that detail my search for you. They are dated. I truly scoured France for you.”

“Well, I was not in France,” Gerome hissed. “I was transferred to Guernsey. I lived my entire childhood in an orphanage, alone and mistreated. I did not know what it meant to be clean until I was ten-and-five, and I ran from that place for good. I never knew affection. My mother was gone. My father did not return. I have lived enough, and this shall be my final act.”

“I did not know, Gerome. I did not know. But I did attempt to find you, I swear it on my life.”

He smirked. “Would you swear it on your daughter’s life?”

“Gerome, you must stop this. If you let her go, then we may speak. I realize that I cannot repair the wounds of bygone years, but I can promise to start afresh. I will do what I can to make amends, but you must release Henrietta.”

He tugged the rope again, to prove his intent. Henrietta spluttered. At Aaron’s side, Ewan bristled, his hands balling into fists.

“Do not behave rashly, or he may kill her,” Aaron whispered.

“He is already killing her,” Ewan muttered bitterly.

“A few minutes more, that is all I ask,” Aaron replied. “Let me try and save her this way.”

Ewan narrowed his eyes. “If he tugs on that rope again, wild horses will not prevent me from striking him down. I can make it to him before she falls, I am certain of it.”

“Not yet,” Aaron warned.

“What are you murmuring about over there?” Gerome asked sourly. “If you attempt anything, I will push her. I mean it. I did not come here with the intention of surviving. You see, General, today, you will lose both of your children. The one who did not deserve you, and the one who longed only to be loved by you.”

Aaron shook his head. “Gerome, don’t!”

“Give me one good reason why.”

Aaron stared at the ghost of his past and could not find an answer. His youthful impulse had put his daughter in danger, but he knew that he was the one who ought to have the rope around his neck. He had not intended to abandon Gerome, but he knew how it looked. This boy, now a man, had suffered years of neglect, alone in an orphanage. And it was all Aaron’s doing.

“I am sorry… that is all I can say,” Aaron said, at last.

Gerome tutted. “That is not enough. This is the end for us both.”

“Papa!” Henrietta’s scream pierced the air, splitting his heart in two.