8 
Dreariness

The ride to Milan was anything but pleasant.

As the minutes dragged by, Amanda’s spirits slowly began to sink. Despite her success thus far, she had not managed to lose Ramsay. He knew right where she was. And she knew he would never give up.

Maybe Ramsay was right. She could never hope to escape.

What was the point of trying?

They would never let her into France anyway. Ramsay would find her eventually and take her back to Austria. What was the use? She would never get back to England.

And with what she knew, they would probably kill her. Murder did not seem to bother them. They had killed the archduke. She would likely be next.

The chilling words she had overheard from Mr. Barclay’s mouth several nights ago came back to Amanda’s memory: “Find some means to eliminate her.”

The words rang over and over in her brain . . . eliminate her . . . eliminate her.

Gradually despair stole over her. She could almost feel Mr. Barclay’s eyes probing, staring, searching. As she imagined his gaze upon her, the former drowsiness of will slowly settled over her consciousness.

It was hopeless. Why didn’t she just give in? Where was the hope in anything? What did she have left to live for?

A young lady several seats forward in the coach turned to speak to a companion. Something about the shape and expression of her face reminded Amanda momentarily of Catharine. The thought of her younger sister only saddened Amanda all the more. Catharine had always seemed so young and small that Amanda had taken her for granted. She had been shocked during her brief visit to Heathersleigh to realize what a striking woman she had become. Suddenly Amanda missed her very much. How comforting it would be to have a sister with her right now.

But she didn’t. She had sacrificed that relationship along with everything else when she left Heathersleigh. She had thrown away her past back then. Now she had thrown away her future as well.

And for what? For a man who had never really loved her at all.

Nausea swept over her at the thought of what she had allowed herself to become involved in.

It was a dreary, drizzly, disheartening day in England as well as Italy. A great cloud had descended upon the whole continent, with the five Rutherfords of Devon, spread out now across Europe, under the very middle of it. Even George, training in the Orkneys, was feeling more alone and downcast than usual. Only Catharine, the youngest of the three young people, had not been affected by the grey, dismal atmosphere.

The mood at Heathersleigh was subdued and quiet. Charles had now been gone for two days.

As she walked up to the second floor of Heathersleigh Hall, Jocelyn tried to buoy her spirits by imagining where her husband might be at this moment. He was to have set to sea at daybreak this morning, she thought. It was now midmorning. That should put them somewhere probably just off Land’s End. They would soon be turning to head north.

She entered the library, where she knew Catharine had gone to read. Her younger daughter was dressed in a cheery yellow dress. Jocelyn smiled. How like Catharine to defy the weather!

“Hello, dear,” she said. “How would you like to join me for some tea? Sarah will be up with it shortly.”

“Yes, thank you, Mother—that sounds good,” replied Catharine.

“I thought I might come up and sit with you,” added Jocelyn, taking a chair opposite her daughter. “I need to lose myself in a book to get my mind off your father’s being gone. Any suggestions?”

“I told you how much I am enjoying Ben Hur. I’m almost finished. Why don’t you read it next?”

“I think I need something more along the lines of an old-fashioned romance and mystery. I don’t want to have to think. It makes me too sad.”

“Because Father’s gone?”

“And George . . . and Amanda.”

“I’m still here, Mother,” teased Catharine with a cheerful smile.

“I know, dear,” replied Jocelyn. “And you can’t know how thankful I am for it! Your being with me is the one thing that makes me able to keep my head up at all.”

“Mother!”

“I mean it, dear. But at the same time, it is so incomplete when our whole family isn’t together. Don’t you feel it?”

Catharine nodded. “Of course. George is my best friend,” she said. “Well, except for you, I mean. But they’ll be back, Mother. We just have to keep believing and praying for that day when we are all together again.”

“When you say that, do you include your sister?”

“Of course,” replied Catharine. “I pray every day that Amanda will come home.”

“I suppose I need to take a lesson from you,” said Jocelyn with a thin smile. “But I have to admit, praying with faith gets more and more difficult the longer she is gone. I know I have to keep hoping, but—”

The tears—always nearby—suddenly arrived on the scene again without warning.

The next instant Catharine was on her feet and at her mother’s side. She knelt down beside her mother’s chair and put her arms around her. Jocelyn wept freely for a few moments on the great strong shoulder of her youngest daughter, who had become a very compassionate young woman.

Gradually the two women eased back. Jocelyn dabbed at her eyes, then kissed Catharine affectionately.

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “I hadn’t had my cry yet today.” She tried to laugh. “It always makes me feel better to get it over with.”

She drew in a deep breath, then rose.

“But I still think I need that mystery,” she said. “Perhaps I shall peruse the shelves a bit.—That is, after tea,” she added. “I think I hear Sarah coming with the tray.”

After two stops and the passage of about four hours, Amanda’s train arrived in Milan. It was early in the afternoon.

A three-hour layover was scheduled before the next train for France. Ramsay was sure to catch up with her now, Amanda thought hopelessly. He might even have called ahead to notify the authorities to hold her until he arrived.

The train stopped and the doors opened. Half expecting to be arrested on the spot, tentatively she picked up her carpetbag and crept out. She stepped onto the platform. No uniformed guards were waiting. But Ramsay would probably appear any moment. Her brain was in such a fog she did not think that it would have been impossible for him to arrive ahead of her.

With three dozen other passengers Amanda walked into the station, found a vacant seat, and sat down. Feeling hungry and more forlorn than she had ever been in her life, Amanda was too despondent even to find something to eat. She was beginning to feel weak. She had not eaten since sometime yesterday.

Tears of hopelessness began to fill her eyes.

Hardly realizing what she was doing, she began silently to pray. “God, I was so stupid for not listening. I never thought I needed anyone, but now I realize I do need your help. Please, God . . . help me.”

Amanda glanced up.

Across the station a lady was eying her strangely.