thought nothing of it.’
‘Then has she gone visiting friends?’ James asked. ‘Have you enquired?’
‘Certainly I have. No one has seen her.’
‘Did you enquire if she had boarded a coach?’ James asked.
‘Yes, it was one of the first things I did. No one saw her and everyone knows her in the village, so if she had done such a thing it would have been noted. Her horse is still in the stable. I rode to my brother Matthew’s house about three miles distant, in case she had taken it into her head to visit him. She was not there nor had been. No one had seen her. I searched the roadside in both directions in case she had met with an accident, but to no avail. She had not been to Mark’s either. He is another brother and has a living near Rickmansworth, though how she would have gone to him I have no idea. Someone would have had to take her. He had seen nothing of her. We do not know what to do next. My mother is distraught.’
‘I can understand that,’ James said. ‘And she left no clue as to her intentions?’
‘No, though she did leave a note telling our parents not to worry and she would soon be back…’
‘There! I said she had run away with a lover,’ Ash said.
‘No, she has not. I wish you would treat the matter seriously.’
‘We are treating it seriously,’ James assured him. ‘But we exist to track down criminals. If no crime has been committed…’
‘Please make an exception in this case. She would not willingly have worried our parents by staying away all night. We think something dreadful must have happened to her. Help us to find her, I beg of you,’ Luke said desperately.
‘This seems like a job for you, Jonathan,’ James said at last. ‘But you must lose no time or the trail will have gone cold.’
Jonathan rose to obey. ‘How did you arrive here?’ he asked Luke.
‘I rode.’
‘Good. I will ride back with you at once. Let us hope the crowds are not so thick now…’
They could not ride side by side until they had passed the Tyburn gibbet. The hanging had been accomplished and the body taken down, but some of the crowd still milled about, talking about it, buying mementoes, waiting to see if there would be any other convicts to meet the same fate. There was usually more than one dispatched on hanging days. As soon as they were on the open road and the noise behind them had faded to a distant hum, Jonathan questioned Luke more closely about his sister’s disappearance. Had anything happened to trigger it off? Had she been unhappy at home? Had she expressed a desire to visit friends or relations? To all of which the young man was noncommittal. And when he asked for a description of Louise, the only reply Luke made was, ‘Oh, she is beautiful.’
‘That is not much help. What does she look like? Is she tall or short? Fat or thin? What is the colour of her hair and her eyes?’ He still had that hazy memory of the little girl in church, in a blue dimity dress with a huge blue bow in her hair. It had been thick, curly hair, he recalled.
‘She is tall for a woman, I suppose, and slim. Her hair is brown, but not an ordinary brown. It has a special sheen to it. Her eyes are…’ He stopped to think. ‘Green, I think. Or perhaps they are brown. Do you know, I cannot be sure.’
‘No distinguishing features?’
‘She don’t wear patches. Nor powder. Nor a wig. Don’t need ‘em.’
It was as much as he could expect; brothers never were very observant when it came to sisters, though they might describe their mistresses perfectly well.
When they arrived at the Barnet vicarage, he was greeted by a sombre cleric and a woman beside herself with grief. He was of average height and breadth, wearing a bag wig and spectacles. She was approaching fifty, a small, neat woman, with greying hair and pale greeny-grey eyes. The pair appeared to be out of sorts with each other, but endeavoured to set aside their differences to offer him refreshment and answer his questions. They could only repeat what Luke had told him, that Louise intended to go because she had left a note, but that was understandable since everyone was out and would wonder what had become of her; it only said she would not be gone long and would soon be back. They did not, for a moment, believe she meant to worry them to death. She was a madcap, always ready for adventure, her brothers had seen to that, but that did not mean she was unfeeling. She would not hurt a fly, let alone her family, all of whom loved her.
‘Might I see the letter?’ he asked.
Mrs Vail fetched it for him. It was very creased and tear-stained. Dearest Mama and Papa, they say eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, but I could not help listening, so you will understand why I have to make this journey, but I shall not be gone long, so do not worry about me. I promise I will be back as soon as I can. Your very affectionate Louise.
‘What was it she overheard?’ he asked.
‘It was nothing,’ Mrs Vail said. ‘My husband and I were talking. The window was open and she was weeding the flower bed. We had no idea she was there.’
‘Whatever it was would have made her unhappy?’
Husband and wife looked at each other as if unwilling to answer and it was left to Luke to reply. ‘She was always cheerful. She had nothing to be unhappy about.’
Jonathan felt sure they were hiding something; Mrs Vail was particularly uneasy. ‘What time did you go out and what time did you return?’
‘It was the middle of the morning,’ the Reverend said. ‘I had to visit a parishioner who was dying and took the gig. I gave my wife a lift into Barnet to do some shopping and arranged to meet her at a friend’s house to bring her home. It was about five in the afternoon when we returned.’
‘And young Mr Vail?’ Jonathan queried, turning to Luke.
‘I was out riding. I arrived home just before my parents, but I did not think anything about Louise being missing, until my mother became worried.’
‘So the house was empty for five hours. May I question the servants?’
‘Certainly, you may,’ the Reverend told him. But I have already spoken to them all myself.’
‘I am sure you have, but they might have remembered something more.’
Jonathan swallowed the tea he had been given while the servants were summoned. One by one they denied any knowledge of Louise’s whereabouts or any intention she might have had to leave home. He asked and was given permission to examine the garden and speak to the outside servants. A young man weeding a flower bed looked up as he approached. He assumed he was the young gardener Luke had mentioned.
‘I believe you saw Miss Vail before she left,’ he said. ‘I have been asked by the Reverend to help find her.’
‘Yes. She was acting strange and so I told them, but I never spoke to her. I wish I had, ‘cos when I went home I discovered my sister had disappeared too.’
‘Your sister? Do you think they are together?’
‘I reckon they must be. Miss Vail would never be so foolish as
