The Duke's Affair

XIX

Henry couldn't sit still. If John was outside Marcus' house right now, and the woman, whoever it was, was there too which meant that they weren't anywhere else. Henry sat up, flattened his hands on his desk and stood up. He strode across his office, grabbing his coat. It wasn't even midday, but the office was quiet, lots of the staff were either on holiday or had gone out for lunch. Annabel wasn't at her desk, and Henry took the opportunity to search it, rifling through papers and opening drawers, but to no avail. There was no tape, no disc. He tried to stuff everything back into the drawers, but his fingers were shaking and his heart was beating so fast; he kept his head down, not wanting to meet the questioning gazes of those who remained in the office. He realised he must look like a man who had lost his mind.

"Is everything alright?" said Mrs Balfour, walking towards him.

He stood up. "Yes. Where's Annabel?"

"I imagine she's gone to grab a coffee. I haven't seen her for a while actually," she said, frowning.

Henry slammed the last drawer and stood up. If the tape wasn't here, where was it?

He grimaced at Mrs Balfour and pushed past her, not caring at the stares that would inevitably be following him as he raced down the stairs. He let himself out into the cold, the sky thick with cloud that look like it would have to burst and spew snow to the ground at any moment. Christmas lights, unlit, hung from trees up and down the square, swinging in the breeze, and somewhere Henry could hear carolers singing in the distance. He jogged to the edge of the pavement and thrust his arm in the air to hail a cab, waiting impatiently for it to draw up alongside him.

Leaning into the window, he told the driver to take him home and jumped in the back, full of such nervous energy that he could barely control himself. Each moment in the back of the taxi was almost too much to bear. He drummed his fingers on the the door and tapped his foot on the floor, staring out the window but seeing nothing. If he could just find the video then all this could stop. He could start over and begin to put everything right.

He paid the fare and let himself into the house, pushing past Arthur Wright and heading for the interconnecting door, pushing it open and skittering into the hall of the staff house. His shoes clicked as he walked over the wooden floor and down the corridor towards Annabel's room. He knocked on the door and waited, trying to calm his breathing. Just as he had expected, no one answered, and when he twisted the door handle and let himself in, no one was there.

He flicked on the light. The room was tidy, everything perfectly organised. The bedspread was neat and Annabel had decorated the room with pictures of her family and friends, stuck on the walls with blu-tac. For a split-second Henry wondered if he would have to have the walls re-painted when he got rid of her. He hoped not.

He wandered about, not wanting to disturb the room's perfection, but he knew he didn't have an unlimited amount of time. Wherever Annabel was, whether it was with Marcus or not, she could come back at any time.

He sighed and dropped to the floor to look under the bed, sweeping an outstretched arm underneath it. Nothing. He looked at his watch. He would have to speed it up if he didn't want to get caught. He stood up and started opening drawers, feeling only the slightest discomfort as Annabel's underwear hooked over his fingers as he searched each drawer.

The heating was on full blast, and soon, wrapped in his coat and scarf, Henry began to sweat. He opened the wardrobe and started pulling out the dresses and looking in the boxes of shoes that lined the bottom of the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Henry rolled his eyes and then clenched the shut. He stood up and closed the wardrobe door, revealing Annabel standing behind him, her handbag dangling from one hand at her side, the other hand reaching out, palm upwards, pointing at him. "Are you searching my stuff?" she asked.