Heather sighed. “Well, Mary isn’t here.”
Many times since returning to London, Lillian had wished she could run away and start a new life, somewhere far from the spiteful sneers and knowing glances. “Perhaps she has left the island. Why stay when everyone believes she is dishonest?”
Ursula shook her head. “None of the men would ferry her to the mainland without his lordship’s consent.”
“Did someone not tell me that sailors are a suspicious lot? Does it not stand to reason the men want rid of her?”
“All of Mary’s belongings are here in the cottage,” Heather added. “When a woman has no husband to support her, why would she leave with just the clothes on her back? The candlestick alone would fetch enough to feed her for months.”
The comment resonated with Lillian. She had disappeared from Vauxhall without a trace. From her experience, one ran away of their own volition, or someone took them against their will.
“Then we must question the men and search the island.”
“If the men sense your distrust there could be a mutiny,” Ursula said. “It’s not my place to contradict you, my lady, but we should be certain she’s not on the island before we go accusing the men.”
Ursula was right. They should search the area, scour the coastline. Perhaps Mary had wandered too close to the crumbling cliff edge. Worse still, had the rumpus Heather spoke about driven Mary to abandon this life altogether?
“Shall I wait here, my lady?” Heather shuffled nervously. “If Mary returns it might save endless hours of searching.”
“Very well.” Should Mackenzie join them, Heather could inform him of their plans. “We shall go down to the dock and follow the coastline.”
“Maybe we should just go back to the castle, my lady.”
“We will, but it won’t hurt to have a quick look around.”
With Ursula in tow, Lillian left the cottage and followed the lane to the dirt track leading to the shore.
The dock consisted of a large timber warehouse, and a few old buildings made of the same slaty mudstone as the cottages. A high stone wall kept the rising tide from flooding the area. A group of men were busy working. One man sat splicing a line on the landing pier leading to the frigate that brought her to the island. One man climbed the rigging. A few more were hammering wood on the poop deck. They were all too engrossed in their work to notice two women sneaking past.
“We should check the buildings.” Lillian pointed to the warehouse. The wooden door stood ajar. “Mary might have wandered in there.” It was highly unlikely.
Ursula nodded. She moved stealthily as if trying not to draw the men's attention. Peering inside, they found nothing but crates and barrels stacked neatly against the wall.
Lillian sighed. “I doubt Mary had a reason to come in here.”
They moved to the stone buildings and found them locked.
“Mackenzie and Lord Ravenscroft are the only ones with a key.” Ursula glanced back over her shoulder. “We should go back and stroll along the clifftop. When Mackenzie arrives, he can unlock these doors. It’s best he speaks to the men.”
Fear flashed in Ursula’s eyes. Did she think the men had something to do with Mary’s disappearance? Overcome by a sudden sense of foreboding, Lillian thought it best to return with Fabian or Mackenzie.
“We’ll walk along the shore for a while.” Lillian gestured to the path leading down to the beach. The first drop of rain landed on her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “If there’s no sign of her we will return to the castle.”
“What about trying the path north?”
Lillian considered Ursula’s suggestion. “It’s too far out of our way. Mackenzie can round up the men and conduct a thorough search once the weather improves. We’ll head south.”
With some reluctance, Ursula followed, her anxious gaze moving from the dark clouds looming overhead to the dock disappearing into the distance.
The tide ebbed, though their feet still squelched in the wet sand. Soon one drop of rain became two and three. An angry roar from the heavens gave them pause, and Lillian considered turning back.
“It looks like it will be one almighty storm.” Ursula did not hide her apprehension.
“If we keep walking where will it take us?” Lillian quickened her pace. The gathering wind roared in her ears, and she had to repeat the question as Ursula failed to reply.
“To … to the castle.”
“Then is it not better to continue on our way?” Lillian clutched the hood of her cloak as a gale-force wind threatened to tear the clothes off her back. Without warning the shower turned into a torrential downpour. The gulls swooped and darted. Visibility diminished in seconds.