Page 65 of The Unassuming Curator

“Akers,” Aunt Millward huffed. “As much as I appreciate your discretion, this is not the time for it. We have known each other for over thirty years. You know full well that I have Mr. Buckland’s best interests at heart. I need you to tell me how long he has been gone.”

For the first time since their arrival at the door, Akers appeared mildly uncomfortable. “To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Buckland did not return home last night, my lady. I have not seen him since yesterday morning at about nine o’clock, and neither has Felix.”

Emily’s heart faltered. Henry had not come home after going back to the museum. She did not know what that meant exactly, but she was positive that it was nothing good.

“You are sure of this?” Aunt Millward’s tone suddenly became more urgent.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Thank you, Akers.”

She turned to go, and Emily followed. They said nothing until they reached the carriage.

“To the British Museum, Robert,” Aunt Millward called to her driver. “As fast as you can.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Aunt Millward climbed into the carriage and took her seat.

“I fear this does not omen well, Emily,” she said, her expression uncharacteristically grim. “Either Henry did something that has caused him to come afoul of Mr. Fernsby, or he slept the night at the museum and will come afoul of me for causing us such anxiety.”

“If we have a choice,” Emily said, “I would prefer the second option.”

“As would I. Although, Henry might not.”

Emily attempted a half smile. They would find him at the museum. They had to.

The ride to the museum was agonizingly long. Occasionally, their carriage would slow to allow another carriage to pass by. Pedestrians filled the pavement, each intent on their own destinations. Vendors stood on the corners, hawking their wares with stray dogs looking on. Not one of them knew of Emily’s inner turmoil or her need for haste.

At last, the crunch of the gravel drive beneath the carriage wheels announced their arrival at the museum. Emily slid to the edge of her seat, exiting as soon as Aunt Millward was clear of the door.

“Calmly now,” Aunt Millward said, straightening her shoulders and facing the door. “We must appear to be making a casual visit.”

“Will we be allowed in without tickets?”

“Yes.”

Emily slipped her arm through the older lady’s. She had no idea how Aunt Millward planned to circumvent the usual requirement for entry, but whatever method she used, Emily would be right beside her.

When they reached the top step, the porter was there to greet them with the door open. “Good day, Lady Millward,” he said, bowing. “Miss Norton.”

“Good day, Rutherford,” Aunt Millward said. “We are here to see Mr. Buckland.”

Rutherford frowned. “I can’t say that I’ve seen Mr. Buckland this morning, my lady.”

“How very odd.” Aunt Millward looked suitably perplexed. “He specifically told us to come today, did he not, Emily?”

“Yes,” Emily said. “He was quite clear. We were to come before one o’clock.”

“I believe some of the curators have a meeting to attend at Lord Southbeck’s house at that time,” Rutherford said. “Is it possible he’s gone ahead?”

“Most unlikely,” Aunt Millward said. She appeared to ponder the idea a moment. “Has Mr. Fernsby left already?”

“No, my lady. He offered to take Mr. Buckland’s tour since the gentleman hadn’t arrived.” He glanced at his pocket watch. “It should be finishing anytime now.”

“How very noble of him.”

If Rutherford caught the bite in Aunt Millward’s compliment, he did not show it.