Lady Kendall stood alone in the drawing room, gazing pensively out of the window, lost in her thoughts, when she heard approaching footsteps. Upon spotting the pair of young gentlemen, she greeted them with a sly smirk.

"Lady Kendall," Travis addressed her first, "we believe Teddy is in the care of Mrs. Winthrop."

"To believe is of little consequence in matters of knowledge, St. Arcey," the venerable lady replied with a quick wit, employing a remark the Marquess himself often used, eliciting a disapproving look from him.

"Lady Kendall, I believe now is not the time for philosophical discussions. If you can confirm that your relative, Mrs. Chatterton, indeed—," Arden began, but the seasoned matron interjected.

"Lord Price, I shall offer you only one piece of advice – do not hasten unnecessarily as you always do, and let events unfold naturally."

Observing the stern expressions on both gentlemen's faces, she added, "No one holds a more eminent interest in securing Teddy Kendall's safe and sound release from the clutches of that wretched hag than I. However, this time, you must place your trust in me, gentlemen."

Arden took the lead over Travis, stating, "With all due respect, Lady Kendall, the concept of trust and your persona seems a contradictory notion."

"And what do you suggest, you passionate yet thoughtless mutton-head?" the old lady interjected with a composed tone, "Shall we beset Merryweather's residence and shoot our way to the lad? Do you wish to jeopardise everyone in our vicinity, including the young one? I shall not permit you, nor would I anyone else."

She turned her countenance toward the window, gazing into the distance once more. "We must adopt a strategic approach and bide our time. Afterwards, we shall devise an intricate plan together; I believe I have its foundations already well laid."

"Does this plan involve the potential sacrifice of my liberty?" Travis inquired softly.

"As you make your bed, so you must lie in it, Marquess," Lady Kendall responded without even glancing at him. "You've been warned by everyone. You cannot perpetually rely on Providence, on me, or even on Lord Price to extricate you from every predicament of yours."

Travis nodded and exited the drawing room – he would have preferred to pursue Bella, but the footsteps trailing behind him indicated that Arden was attentively following. Hence he turned to him with a query:

"Would you care for a glass, Lord Price?"

"Most gladly," he replied with nonchalance, allowing himself to be ushered into Travis' study.

°°°

Mary Winthrop entered the study, intending to jot down in her journal and compile a new list of books she aspired to read before the close of the year. The task was not without difficulty, for she awaited with trepidation any sound from above – recalling the vow she made to herself: upon hearing a noise, she would investigate the cause. Mentally preparing herself for the possibility of encountering mice and rats, which filled her with unease, Mary managed to pen three book titles before she truly heard a faint whimper. After a brief moment, the whimper turned into a series of knocks, followed by an eerie silence.

Exhaling audibly, Mary returned the quill to its inkwell – it was time to uncover the source of the disturbance. She swiftly exited the study, casting a vigilant eye for any signs of movement in the corridor, and ascended the stairs. Coming to a stop before the door from which the peculiar sounds emanated, she paused to listen.

Mice and rats certainly do not produce such thudding noises, she thought quickly, resolute, as she placed her hand on the door handle. Yet, upon attempting to open the door, she discovered it to be firmly locked. Then, a clear voice rang out:

"Depart at once!"

Her spirit quelled by trepidation – beyond the doors lay an indeed child.

"What is the meaning of this, Mary?!" she heard a call behind her, and upon turning, she beheld her mother with a countenance of disapproval.

"Mother," Mary exhaled, "I thought I discerned something beyond these doors, perchance mice or rats. Yet now I am—"

"What do you suppose you heard?" Lydia inquired of her with a tone and gaze that instilled fear in her daughter, whose heart pulsated akin to a partaking in a spirited race.

"Primarily rats," Mary replied softly, glancing at the floor.

"Indeed, there are rats," Lydia concurred and drew near to her daughter, draping an arm around her, "and now let us partake in supper."

Supper unfolded in silence, but later, as the night descended upon the abode, Mary found no repose. She incessantly mused on why her mother would confine a child... and then she recollected the past discussions of St. Arcey having a younger brother. She intertwined her mother's yearning for St. Arcey to wed her daughter with her antecedent endeavours to foment a scandal.

Lord in heaven, perchance she is merely contemplating the blackmail of the Marquess, pondered feverishly Mary. Would she be inclined to tread the path of lunacy just to achieve her aims? I cannot permit such, nay... She rose briskly from her bed and donned warm attire. Once, their former steward had crafted a key, fitting every lock in the manor, as she beseeched him with this plea and tears in her eyes – for she feared her mother, dreading the day she might be confined to her chamber. If such fate befell her, she vowed to escape and never return. Mary believed everyone had their boundaries, and hers rested here; indifferent to the prospect of ending up as a destitute wanderer, reliant on securing employment or seeking refuge in a monastic order. Anything was more acceptable than the snare her mother had laid for her and St. Arcey.

Alas, her father had long been in London, a regrettable absence - surely, he would have sided with his daughter, or so she believed. Mary swiftly seized the skeleton key, a flickering candle, and silently approached the door, behind which she discerned noises. This time, without hesitation, she unlocked and opened it. Her gaze fell upon the bed, where a fair-haired youth lay. As it transpired, he was not yet asleep, for he sat up abruptly and inquired, „What brings you here?!"

Mary immediately placed her forefinger delicately against her lips, signalling him to maintain silence.

"Hush, I wish to aid you, but it shan't be possible if you rouse the entire household," she murmured softly.

The young lad continued to regard her with verdant eyes full of trepidation, and scepticism crept across his countenance.

"May I approach you?" she inquired cautiously, her memory failing to recall the name of the young lad – she found herself practically encountering him for the first time in her life.

Teddy blinked his eyes a few times, then inclined his head in agreement. Mary entered the chamber, discreetly shutting the door behind her. She proceeded slowly towards Teddy's bedside and seated herself at its edge, while the lad continued to scrutinise her with distrustful eyes.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Teddy."

"I am Mary," she replied, attempting a smile, even if slightly askew. "Are you well, Teddy? Or does something ail you?"

Instead of responding, Teddy shook his head.

"How long have you been confined in this space?"

"About two days," the lad replied, furrowing his brow.

Mary paused for a moment, reflecting on the fact that the servants, despite having heard all the sounds, refrained from any reaction. Evidently, they must have been prohibited from doing so under her mother's stern directives, backed by a variety of threats.

"Listen attentively, Teddy," she began slowly and with a resolute tone, "come morning, in a few hours, I shall fetch you, and together we shall proceed to the residence of Marquess St. Arcey, do you understand? But by that time, you must already be risen."

Teddy nodded earnestly, and shortly thereafter, she bid him good night, locked the door once again, and with a profound sigh, reclined for sleep. A few hours later, as she opened the door to the lad's chamber, the first sight that greeted her was him peacefully asleep on the bed. She smiled, recognising that a small child would not pose much reliance – hence, she gently commenced waking him.

"Arise, Teddy, the hour has arrived."

However, he lay undisturbed in his slumber, making no movement or sound. She attempted to rouse him again, but to no avail. Anxiously, she proceeded to ascertain whether the lad still breathed and had a pulse. He possessed both, leading her to the realisation that someone must have administered a sleeping draught. Standing up, she began to withdraw towards the door, but upon turning, her gaze met her mother's countenance standing at the threshold. Lydia regarded her with disdain, sending shivers down Mary's spine, yet she remained steadfast in her resolve to demonstrate fearlessness in the face of her mother's grave disapproval.

"Mother, why is that lad in our midst? I implore you... it is my fervent hope that it was not the prospect of your envisioned union between myself and St. Arcey compelling you to commit such a scandalous and grave act," Mary spoke up in a composed tone.

Lydia smiled, delicately cleared her throat, and eventually began to laugh. "Oh, my dear, if only you had caused a stir when I arranged for it... or if you hadn't hindered Octavia at the fair that day, we might not find ourselves in this situation with the young lad today. But you seem to be like a divine curse, dismantling, destroying everything you touch."

Mary trembled at those words. "What have you done to the lad, mother?" she inquired softly.

Lydia's response came as she produced a small vial from behind her back and shook it. "Laudanum. A tiny drop is sufficient to induce a slumber of at least half a day. I used to administer it to you as well when you were a child and resisted the call of sleep."

In that moment, Lydia strode purposefully towards her daughter, who had no recourse but to endure. Mary had to witness as Lydia's hand met her cheek with a measured force. The young woman's face turned, and in an instant, she placed her cold hand on the affected area, attempting to alleviate the stinging pain that now tingled through half of her countenance.

"That is the consequence of your inadequacy and foolishness, Mary. I lament having a daughter such as yourself!"

Lydia then seized her by her chestnut locks and proceeded to drag her away.

°°°

That evening, Bella overheard a spirited conversation emanating from Travis' study. Intrigued by how her brother and the Marquess were managing the entire situation, she decided to set aside the book she barely read and venture into the room for a brief inspection. The closer she approached the door, the more she discerned the sounds of mirth and fragments of genteel discourse, much to her surprise.

"...and I say to him, 'When the Almighty was dispensing sagacity, you were seated in the rearmost pew!'. 'The Almighty is just and bestows its gifts equally upon all,' he responds. So I retort, 'Indeed, but only to the awakened minds, and you were slumbering at that moment!'" Arden concluded the anecdote, prompting laughter from both him and Travis as they indulged in sips from their glasses.

The doors were partially ajar, and the room was illuminated by several large candles, providing Bella with a glimpse of her brother, Arden, striding across the room with the demeanour of a war general, while Travis occupied the armchair, his droopy eyes subtly revealing the influence of spirits. She couldn't suppress a genteel smile at the spectacle.

And behold, spirits once more have a way of fostering camaraderie, she pondered.

"So, Tyndall remains unchanged over the years, a true simpleton, indeed," remarked Travis, eliciting another round of laughter as Arden began recounting tales of another acquaintance from his social circles he happened to share with the Marquess.

She could endure gazing upon Travis for hours – he appeared resplendent when he bestowed a smile. Despite being aware of the tempestuous nature of that man she chose a long time ago, he also possessed the ability to be a composed and amiable companion. Rarely one to purloin another's discourse or disturb the conversation, Travis exhibited a demeanour quite the opposite of her brother Arden! Arden relished the sound of his own voice, possessing a fervent temperament, a spirited soul, and a tongue as cutting as the finest whip.

Bella could not envision living with a gentleman akin to her brother. Despite this, the intensity and profoundness of her emotions for Travis led her into a chasm that left her questioning the feasibility of enduring it all as a human. In that moment, she felt an uncomfortable pang of ache in her lower abdomen, akin to her body signalling that her monthly course would imminently arrive. Consequently, she silently retreated to her chamber, lifting her gown – as her hand traversed her slit, she discovered a minuscule bloody stain.

She let out a deep sigh, interpreting it as a harbinger of her impending menses and confirming the impossibility of her being with a child. Bella delicately wiped her hand and her womanhood with a cloth, attiring herself in a nightgown later. Then, she reclined in the centre of the bed, drawing a warm blanket over herself, and curled into a ball, enfolding her knees. Exhaustion enveloped her, yet no tears graced her eyes; only the chill embraced her shoulders in its unyielding hold.

In the night, however, two arms enfolded her about the waist, and with them came the pleasing physique of their proprietor.

"Travis," Bella addressed him from a half-slumber, "you oughtn't to be present here at this hour."

"Fret not, my love," he replied and planted a kiss upon her shoulder, "Lord Price is currently at repose on the settee in the adjoining chamber. Would you believe he reclined in the same attire he wore throughout the day? Only his shoes were taken off," he chuckled discreetly, coaxing a subtle smile from her countenance.

"I trust he has tucked a pistol beneath his pillow and a dagger betwixt his teeth, ready for combat upon awakening," she added, and both shared a mirthful laugh.

Given Travis' jovial disposition, she chose not to divulge her discovery; ample time would be afforded for such revelations once the matter with Teddy was resolved. Come morning, Travis was not by her side. Hence, she arose, attired herself, and shortly thereafter partook of breakfast. She proceeded to Travis' study, where she encountered the solemn Marquess and the earnest countenances of Arden, Lafferty, and Lady Kendall.

"You have arrived in the nick of time, Lady Price," the venerable matron addressed her. "I wish to proffer my scheme on how we might extricate Teddy from Lydia Winthrop's clutches."

"Have you received confirmation that Teddy resides in her custody?" inquired Travis.

Lady Kendall acquiesced with a genteel nod. "My kin first paid a visit to Elinor Merryweather, who conveyed to her that Teddy was not in her company. Swiftly, she sent me the tidings through a messenger, expressing her intent to call upon Lydia Winthrop. No word of Lydia's visit reached me, and none beheld her return to her abode, hence she must have discerned Teddy's presence there."

Arden wore a concerned countenance. "Do you possess additional evidence to fortify your assertion, Lady Kendall?"

The venerable lady smirked and responded, "Certainly. I dispatched a lady from humbler circles to seek employment at the Winthrops. She was rebuffed, stating a current need for male household guards as they fortify their ranks."

"Did she, by chance, observe a certain Paul Bramble lingering there?" inquired Lafferty.

"I doubt she witnessed such," replied the elderly lady, fixing her gaze upon Lafferty. "In my estimation, Paul is at Elinor's feet, akin to her loyal hound."

"What is your stratagem, then?" Bella inquired, prompting Lady Kendall to commence her narrative and elucidation.

In the denouement, with the collaborative efforts of others, she indeed managed to assemble the rescue plan. Now, all that remained was to trust that the majority of it would unfold according to their aspirations in the milieu of the great uncertainty that enveloped them.