Edinburgh, United Kingdom
January 1852

To Henry's frustration, a train to Edinburgh did not leave until the following morning, so instead of spending the day traveling, he accompanied his son around Newcastle in search of some sort of news regarding Jane's journey. After hours and hours of questions and going from place to place, Henry and Andrew came across a tavern that harbored some of the answers they had been searching for.

The establishment in which the Pelham men were able to find useful information was one of the filthiest places either of them had ever seen. The floors were made from mud and the mead tasted like piss, but regardless, its proprietor was able to provide them with a helpful response that influenced them both to believe that Thomas had indeed been involved in Jane's disappearance.

He told them that a Frenchman had come to him asking for three of his strongest horses. Given that this environment was not exactly humane, the Frenchman had been the only foreign visitor there in quite some time. This detail, paired with the proprietor's description of the man, assured Henry and Andrew that Thomas had come through that place in the last few days. Henry was then even more determined to go to Edinburgh than before, as there was now no doubt in his mind that Thomas had taken his daughter there. But Henry would not go alone.

The next day, Henry boarded the train to head north. He was accompanied by three men in his employ, men that were loyal to him no matter what he asked of them. Henry didn't want to have to use them, but he was not beyond using threats to accomplish his mission. Jane would marry James, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would find success in this regard. The question remained, however, whether extracting Jane could be done without resistance, so Henry needed to devise a plan that would achieve his goal without much of a scene.

Thus, Henry spent his journey to Edinburgh thinking of the many ways he could go about bargaining for Jane and her silence. It was admittedly proving to be very difficult given Jane's disregard to the rules, so Henry decided that if he were to get anywhere, he must not involve her. Whatever deal he struck would have to be made between he and Thomas, or even between he and Harry if need be. Regardless, Jane would not be involved. If left to the men, Henry knew that a rational conclusion could be met, and by the time he reached Edinburgh, Henry had come to decide just what that conclusion would be.

Henry's deal would allow for appeasement of some sort to be had on both sides, despite the fact that showing such extreme mercy displeased him. He knew it was necessary, though. He would need absolute discretion in the aftermath of Jane's foolish actions, and Henry was wise enough to see that compromise would be the means of achieving it.

It was nearly nightfall by the time Henry and his men arrived in Edinburgh, and so they sought housing in an inn not too far from the Mercier home there in Scotland. Supposing it to be impossible for Thomas, Jane, and Harry to have made it to the city before him, Henry did not worry about apprehending them that night. Instead, he focused on perfecting his plan before retiring early to prepare for the next day.

The following morning, Henry had his man Charlie survey the Mercier residence to see if anyone was home. Charlie returned with no news of any occupants living there, which did not come as a surprise to Henry in the least, seeing as how it would take an exceptionally skilled rider to make such a journey in merely two days. However, Henry was a cautious man, and so he instructed his men to watch the house and report to him if anything should change. By the next morning, things most definitely had changed.

Charlie came to Henry with word that three people had arrived at the Mercier apartment early on the third morning of Jane's absence. Needless to say, Henry was elated by this news, and so he rose immediately, though the sun had not yet crossed over the horizon, to begin putting his plan into action.

Since Henry was determined to leave Jane in the dark in regards to his interactions with both Thomas and Harry, he would need to be patient for the moment when he could speak with both men alone. The first day, Charlie and his companions saw nothing of all three travellers, the occurrence of which Henry owed to their need for rest. When they did finally rise, not one of them dared to venture outside, so yet again, Henry was left waiting. On the third day in Edinburgh, Thomas did leave the residence, but Henry's men were very much unable to follow him once he slipped into town. It seemed that he knew those alleyways far more intimately than the Englishmen did, and so he was able to make his visit, wherever it was, without being intercepted. But despite their failure in reaching Thomas, Charlie and his men were able to maintain secrecy.

The fourth day arrived, and by then, Henry's patience was wearing thin. He needed to act quickly, lest his wife begin to suspect that Jane was not just ill. Thus, as the sun rose on the fourth morning in Edinburgh, Henry wrote a letter and had it sent to Thomas's front door.

Thomas was in the study when his butler Malcolm came to him with that very letter in hand. Uneasiness overtook him as he accepted the letter, seeing as he was not expecting to receive mail at that residence. No one was supposed to know that he was there, and the delivery of a letter was evidence that someone did.

As he turned the letter over in his hand, Thomas laid eyes on the wax symbol sealing it. Immediately, his heart dropped in his chest as he recognized the seal of Henry Pelham, the Duke of Newcastle. Before even opening it, Thomas knew that they had been found out, and he felt so empty with the prospect of having to go forth from that place without his daughter by his side. They had hidden everything perfectly, so how could Henry have possibly known their whereabouts?

With trembling fingers, Thomas pulled back the seal and with some difficulty, began to unfold the parchment that would bear the damnation of his happiness. But to his surprise, there wasn't much written there at all. He wished there had been, for the few words that Henry had written struck much greater fear into Thomas's heart than a full explanation could have. The prospect of he and Harry having to go meet Henry merely prompted his anxiety to catch fire and to burn within his chest with a fierceness that could not be tamed.

Nonetheless, at breakfast, Thomas informed Harry that he would be showing him the way to the ports that evening. It had been their plan that Thomas would go away to the docks quite early the next day and that Harry and Jane would travel there by coach to meet him. It would be the last step in their journey to freedom, only now, Thomas knew that they had been tripped up and beaten in the race to get there. Henry had stuck his foot out and kept them from reaching the finish line, but as of yet, only Thomas was aware of this impending loss. Soon enough though, they would all come to feel failure's unrelenting sting.

If it weren't for Henry's convincing threats, Thomas would have been inclined to plan some remarkable get away; however, with Henry's men watching the house, he was well aware that leaving was not an option. Thus, though it pained him deeply, Thomas spent this day inside with Jane, cherishing her every laugh and each glittering look that gleamed in her pale blue eyes in hopes that he might remember it when the time came for his separation from her.

Though he was determined not to show it, Thomas was gutted by the sentence that Henry's letter was forcing upon him. He had come so close to attaining a life with his daughter, only for it to ripped away from him in the last moment. If it weren't for his twenty years of experience in this, Thomas would have cried. But he found that he couldn't this time. His grief had been spent long ago, and he supposed that deep down, he had known all along that Henry would defeat him in the end. He always had, so why was now any different?

Thus, Thomas recalled the numbness he had employed for nearly twenty years, bringing it about himself and saturating his soul with it. Apathy and denial of his extreme devastation was the only way he knew to survive this blow to the happiness he had allowed himself. He found solace in those brief months he had spent getting to know his daughter, thinking of them as the gifts he was not meant to receive. They had been temporary—meant to enjoy, but never to last. He should have known.

But how could he when the optimism of his daughter and her lover infected him so deeply? They had hope, and so for their sake, Thomas had entertained their fancy. Only now, he could see that his service to them had only served to harm them. As enabled as Thomas was to manage his grief, he knew that his two young companions would likely not share his same skill of bottling his emotions, least of all, Harry.

Thomas dreaded relaying this new information to his young friend and would-be son-in-law, for he knew that Harry would not resign so quietly into failure. Harry had said it himself, he would fight for her always. Only now, he could not fight for her, not if he wanted to depart from Edinburgh with any shred of dignity or good reputation. Henry would ruin Harry if he had to, and Thomas just prayed that the boy would be wise enough to do what needed to be done in order for them to make it out alive.

Thomas cursed the sun as it fell behind the horizon, for with it, set his time with Jane. After kissing his daughter goodbye, Thomas led Harry into the darkness. The younger man was unaware of the intense determination burning within his companion, but when Thomas took a turn down an alleyway that pointed away from the sea, Harry looked at him questioningly, wondering where it was that they were going. The docks were the other way. Why then, were they traveling further into the city?

"Where are we going?" Harry asked him, his expression twisting into a curious frown as they turned off of Princes Street and began the journey up The Mound towards Edinburgh Castle. The roads were cobblestone and rather steep, but still, Thomas showed no sign of slowing as he answered Harry under his breath.

"There are three men following us, Harry." Thomas kept his hand on the back of Harry's shoulder, keeping him from turning around. "No, don't look at them."

Harry frowned as they turned another corner, catching a momentary glimpse of the men Thomas was referring to. "What? Why? Who are they?"

"Keep your countenance in check," Thomas told him sternly, sighing as he revealed the message that had been weighing so heavily on his heart all day. "Henry wrote to me today. He's here, and we're going to meet him now."

Harry stopped in his tracks with the words that Thomas had spoken to him, looking up to the man that had, in many ways, become a father figure to him with disbelief and hurt etched upon his face. Was he serious? Had they come all this way for nothing? And if he was telling the truth, then why hadn't Thomas told him this information earlier?

"You're not serious." Harry said flatly, unwilling to believe that their efforts had amounted to this disheartening end. He couldn't face the reality that if Henry really were there, that he likely would never see Jane again. His wife—his love—was lost to him.

"I am, and he's waiting. We must go."

Thomas neared Harry, grasping his arm and prompting him to walk on. But Harry would not move. His heart had all but exploded into a million pieces, and thus, he found it difficult to move from his place in the streets. He didn't care if the men were watching. Thomas was mistaken if he thought that Harry would walk into this with no issue, and frankly, Harry could hardly believe that Thomas was being so harsh and unfeeling about this. Was he not also faced with the possibility that Jane would be taken from him?

"Thomas, what the hell? Why didn't you tell me until now?"

Lowering his eyes, Thomas sighed, "I knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from her if I did. You would have tried to come up with a plan of escape, but believe me, son, it's not possible."

Harry frowned, "Hide it from her? Do you mean we're just going to spring this on her?"

"Henry forbade me from telling her." Thomas shook his head and looked into Harry's eyes, which were flooded with the emotions raging within him. "Those men behind us work for him, and if we step one toe out of line, I don't doubt that they will carry out the orders he has given them."

"She'll think we've betrayed her, Thomas." Harry raked his hand through his hair and inhaled deeply as he tried to ward off the tears that were beginning to prickle at his eyes. He was too overwhelmed to speak, but he managed a few words in a broken voice that made Thomas's heart ache for him. He had once known Harry's pain, so he knew that the next several days would be difficult for him to endure.

"I can't bear for her to think that," Harry said quietly, wiping beneath his eyes and looking up to the man he had come to depend on. How could this have happened?

Thomas laid his hand on Harry's shoulder, smiling sadly at him as he spoke what little encouragement he could think of. "She knows that you love her, Harry. She will blame her grandparents and no one else, despite the ways in which Henry will attempt to poison her against you. Have faith in her the way she does in you."

With that, Thomas pulled Harry into his arms, embracing him as he would his own son. Harry, overwhelmed by the tragedy that had yet to befall them, began to weep without restraint. What purpose would remaining composed serve in their meeting with Henry? He had already won, so what was the point in projecting a stoic facade?

Harry was beyond caring about his image as a man of unfeeling strength. None of that mattered when the longing of his soul had been entertained, only to be denied indefinitely the next moment. In a blink of an eye, he had been crippled by his greatest fear, and Harry's overwhelming sense of hopelessness led him to feel that there was not a thing on earth that could heal the ever-growing fracture in his heart.

Thomas held Harry out from him after about a minute, telling him that he needed to gather himself in preparation for their meeting with Henry. Harry sighed deeply, shutting his eyes and allowing a shudder to ravage him as he tried to shake off his internal feelings of anguish. As apathetic as he now was in regard to Henry's opinion of him, he could not do Jane the disservice of allowing her grandfather to think that she had run away with a coward. As he went to meet Henry Pelham, Harry was brave for her, and her alone.

Harry and Thomas continued up the hill towards the castle, taking a left and making their way down an alleyway. They approached the tavern Henry had written to Thomas about, the two of them reluctantly entering to find a throng of people that they didn't recognize. It wasn't until one of Henry's men, Charlie, came up to them and led them upstairs that they were faced with the man that had single-handedly ruined their happiness.

Henry smiled wryly at the two Frenchman as they entered his rented room, and it was clear that with that mischievous gleam in his eye, he was beyond ready to give his demands. Henry held all the cards, and every man in that room was only too aware of it. Little did they know, however, that only one of them would have the privilege of leaving the tavern that night.

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Thanks for reading, my loves! Also, thanks for 15k reads!!! That's so exciting!! Ilyyyy
-kate🖤