The Abandoned Lady

Chapter 23

Where was that damn women, Oscar cursed. After his not-so-good confrontation he had left the house for a week and retreated to his father's house like the coward he was. He had run. Running was something he was good at. Why hadn't he asked her Uncle James in the first place instead of blasting it at her? It was now painfully obvious that she hadn't a clue about anything and he had accused her wrongfully. Oscar hated himself. He had hurt her in more ways than he had intended to with his poisonous words and she hadn't deserved any of it. He didn't know what do. Everywhere and anywhere he turned all he thought was about her: her face, her melodious laugh and voice and her smile. It crushed him to think about the hurt and his stupid, stupid words. She was never an actress and she could never be. Her feelings were mostly open for all to see. She was like and open book. He hadn't meant what he had said about her. He just had wanted to hurt her like he thought she had hurt him. It wasn't true, any of it. A week was enough and he couldn't bear it anymore. He needed to see her and make it up to her. The reality was that he missed her and he hated that lonely feeling. How he had changed. Hence, he had returned with a large bouquet of flowers.

The house seemed eerie and silent as if not a soul no longer resided in it. Somehow it just seemed darker and heavier compared to when he had first arrived a few months ago. Oscar got out of his carriage and went to search for her in all the places besides her chamber. But she was no where to be seen. She must hate him, Oscar sighed. How could she not, after his stupidity.

Finally, Oscar stood outside her room and politely knocked. No answer. He knock again and for a third time. Still no answer. Oscar prepared himself to faced her and opened the room. There was no one inside. It was bare as if no one had slept in the room for days. Fear washed over him, but Oscar pushed the thought away.  

Oscar decided she must be in that secret room of hers and went there. He knocked but again found no answer. As he tried to turn the knob, he realized it was locked. Quickly, he went and got the master key and took a deep breathe not knowing what to expect. He opened it and gasped. The room was a vast ray  of colours. Paintings hung and stood at every corner. They were beautiful and magnificent. Then he turned to the wall next to him and froze. Oscar felt a shiver down his spine. The whole wall was covered with him. One with him sleeping peacefully, his hair a mess and his naked upper body on show. Another pictured him smiling and another laughing, another with him lounging languidly. Oscar felt a swell of pride escalade him. He touched the smooth lines. He smiled and felt his heart jump. Each brushstroke dripped with such emotions which could only render to be love. He felt his heart get squeezed and felt his guilt eating away at him. Then he stopped at another one, the final one. It was of him and Amelia, laughing together as if she had so obviously captured that moment and imagination in her head. Oscar stood there for hours staring at the pictures.

'Oh Lord Pierce, you have returned.' Harry said stopping at the door, looking fairly surprised.

'Yes I am. where is my wife Harry?' Oscar said unable to hide his desperation. 'I cannot find her anywhere.'

Oscar watched as Harry stumbled for words. 'I apologize my lord, but she is not here. She left this for you.' Oscar watched as Harry got our a letter from his pockets and left.

Oscar stared at it, almost afraid. Then he opened it and read it. Before long, he had rushed to Amelia's room and banged the wardrobe doors open. It was empty. She was gone. She had left him.  She loved him.

'Harry!' Oscar bellowed. Oscar run his hand through his hair. She thought so little of him. 'Fear not, you have plenty women out there.' It sounded so bitter and hard. She hated him.

'Where is she?' Oscar demanded as Harry appeared.

'I do not know my lord.'

'What do you mean you do not know?' But the look on Harry's face said it.

'but I know it's not her uncle James house. I wrote to him about her whereabouts but he hasn't a clue. and my Lord he is gravely ill.'

Oscar took all the information in. She wouldn't go to her uncles

'Call all the servants and line them up in the main hall. I want to speak to them.' Oscar said. He needed to find her. He needed her in his life. The one week without her was enough to prove that.

Oscar quizzed his servant till he only had a repetition of the same answers. She had said that she was leaving and that she would miss them all greatly on the night of the argument. She had been extremely upset. The next day she had disappeared. She had taken Mary and Mary's husband, George, one of the footmen with her. But no one had a single clue as to where she was.

Oscar sat languidly drinking his sorrows away. He had let her get away. Oscar sighed. She had every right to after the way he had treated her. But one thing was for sure, he needed her and missed her greatly. His life seemed almost empty. That one month that he and she was together had been the best time of his life. He needed to find her and he would travel to the end of the world just to find her. He would find her and then he would plead for her forgiveness and then bring her back to where she belonged: by his side, in his life.