by Joyce Alec
Her betrothed’s eyes narrowed. “You are not speaking the truth, Miss Smythe.”
“Something you can well understand,” she replied at once, her hands going to her hips. “I am well aware, Lord Davenport, that you have not always been truthful with me. Why should you now expect the same sort of behavior from me?”
Lord Davenport froze, his eyes fixed on hers. He did not even appear to be breathing, such was his frustration. Emily held his gaze steadily, aware that her heart was quickening, but finding that she was able to maintain her composure easily. Perhaps it came from the knowledge that she would soon be parted from Lord Davenport, whether he wished it or not.
“You will do as you are told, Miss Smythe,” Lord Davenport hissed, leaning closer to her so that his breath ran across her face, startling her. “Else it will be all the worse for you.”
Emily arched one eyebrow. “I do not think you would dare lay a hand on me in front of all our guests,” she said slowly, seeing the way his face whitened with yet more fury. “And I cannot be certain that we will end this evening with the same… pleasantness with which we entered.” She emphasized that word particularly, making it quite plain to Lord Davenport that she knew full well there was no affection or even fondness between them. It was all nothing more than a façade. Lord Davenport wore a mask and she could see straight through it.
“I will not forget this slight, Emily,” Lord Davenport whispered, his voice low and threatening. “When we are married, I shall ensure that you feel the full extent of the consequences of your actions this night.”
She shuddered at the thought of being married to him and not, as Lord Davenport thought, at the prospect of being beaten senseless by way of a punishment.
“Do watch your behavior, Miss Smythe,” Lord Davenport finished, now appearing a little triumphant as though he had managed to frighten her into submission. “I shall be expecting you to smile and appear overcome with wonder at the prospect of becoming my wife. I know I have made myself abundantly clear on this matter.”
So saying, he turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Emily to stand alone in the shadows.
She did not flinch at his harsh words, nor cry out at his departure. Rather, she found herself almost glowing with a sense of anticipation, praying that it would not be long until she was able to remove herself from Lord Davenport entirely.
“You have managed to turn Lord Davenport away from you, then,” said a low voice behind her. Turning quickly, Emily smiled at Lord Matthews, who had somehow appeared out of the shadows to stand behind her.
“I have indeed,” she agreed quietly, turning to face him a little more. “I fear that I have not behaved as well as he expected.” A scornful look caught her expression as she looked away from Lord Matthews. “He believes that I should be overwhelmed with the delight of being betrothed to him, that I should be almost joyous in front of the guests.” She shook her head, allowing a sigh to escape from her. “He will soon find that he is not the only one struggling to find any sort of happiness this evening.”
Lord Matthews chuckled and Emily could not help but smile back at him.
“I am ready to begin my search,” he said softly, so that Emily had to lean closer to hear him. “Are you ready to join me?”
Emily, who knew precisely what was expected of her, nodded, a deep sense of urgency filling her. “I am,” she said, turning to look behind her in search of her betrothed. “Lord Davenport will not come in search of me for some time, given that he is somewhat frustrated with my unwillingness.”
Another chuckle escaped from Lord Matthew. “It is just as well, then, since you were to find a way to escape from his company, were you not?”
“I was,” Emily replied with a slightly self-conscious smile. “I had some wonderful excuses already formed in my mind, but it seems I shall not need them.” Looking towards the door of the ballroom, she began to fall into step with Lord Matthews, as though they were merely having a polite conversation. Keeping to the edge of the room, they walked together to the door, ignoring all the other guests who, thankfully, did not seem to want to interrupt them.
Perhaps there are some advantages to being a wallflower, Emily thought to herself ruefully, as she walked out of the ballroom without once being stopped from doing so. It seems I am not to be prevented from leaving this place by anyone!
“Now we come to the more difficult part,” Lord Matthews murmured as they hurried along the hallway with very little idea of where they were going. “Polly was not specific as to where Lord Wickton was being kept, although she did say it was at the very top of the house.”
“Where a governess might stay?” Emily suggested, aware of the footmen that lined the hallway. Were they watching her? Would they inform Lord Davenport as to where she had gone? She had to hope that they would not do so, not when she had yet to locate the presence of Lord Wickton.
“I do not think I shall be a very great help,” she replied, keeping her voice low and quiet. “I have only been in Lord Davenport’s townhouse on two separate occasions and each time, I was only within the drawing room and dining room.” Her eyes darted from place to place, until they finally landed on the staircase that would lead to the next floor of the house. “Look. There.”
Lord Matthews said nothing but nodded and turned his steps towards the staircase. Aware that the footmen were watching them both and that, most likely, Lord Davenport would soon be informed that his betrothed had quit the ballroom and gone with another gentleman above stairs, Emily hurried as quickly as she could, knowing that there were a good many places still to search.
“Good gracious!”
The moment they set foot on the final step, there came a sudden gasp and a loud crash that had Emily wincing with fright.
“Polly,” Lord Matthews said pleasantly as Emily clutched onto the staircase rail for support, such was her shock. The tray Polly had been carrying was now lying at her feet, the china cup, saucer, and teapot lying in pieces on the floor. “How very good to see you again.” He gestured towards Emily, as though walking through Lord Davenport’s house without his presence was to be expected. “You might now be able to help us, I think.”
Polly’s eyes, round with surprise and fright, stared back at Lord Matthews, before swiveling towards Emily.
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” Emily said, recovering herself quickly. “You are to have employment at Lord Wickton’s, are you not?” She smiled at the girl, even though her heart was slamming into her chest furiously. “Now, can you take us to where Lord Wickton is being kept?”
Polly swallowed hard, not even looking at the smashed china at her feet. “I—I don’t know, my lord,” she whispered, looking back at Lord Matthews. “What if Lord Davenport finds out it was me?”
“He will find out,” Emily replied calmly. “But as we have said, there is no need to be concerned, my dear girl. You can leave this very moment if you wish and find the door to Lord Wickton’s townhouse open to you. He is a gentleman who keeps his word and if he has promised you employment, then employment you shall have.” She reached out and patted the young woman on the shoulder, in an attempt to reassure her. “We must find him first, however, and Lord Davenport will be looking for me very soon. Come now, you must do as I ask. It is the only way.”
Looking into Polly’s face, Emily tried her best to encourage her to do what she had asked, simply by smiling at her in a most cheerful fashion. Polly swayed slightly, as though she were on the verge of running away and pretending that she did not know anything of what they were doing, but then her shoulders set, her eyes grew firm, and she nodded.
A wave of relief crashed over Emily.
“He is this way,” Polly said, her voice quavering just a little. “There is a footman standing near to the room, however. He will inform Lord Davenport at once that you are present.”
Emily nodded, seeing Lord Matthews’ small smile of approval. “That is just as we require it,” she said, knowing that this was their full
intention. “We knew we could not retrieve the key from Lord Davenport’s study, so therefore, we require Lord Davenport to open up the door for us.”
“And the only way we can do that is to ensure we know that he has kept Lord Wickton in one of his rooms,” Lord Matthews explained as Polly turned around and began to lead them towards the back of the house. “We will need the footman to see us, to be fully aware of our presence and, thereafter, to fetch Lord Davenport on a matter of urgency. Do you understand, Polly?”
“I do,” the maid said, somewhat breathlessly. “I know Lord Wickton will be overjoyed to hear your voice, Miss Smythe. I was able to tell him that you had received his note as well as speak to him of what you had asked me to say.” She threw a glance over her shoulder at Emily. “What relief it must have brought him.”
Emily swallowed hard, a tingling running through her at the thought of seeing Lord Wickton again. There was a good deal more to do than simply removing Lord Wickton from his confines, but just the thought of setting her eyes upon him, of seeing him safely returned to her and to society, was sending a shiver of excited anticipation through her. What would he say upon seeing her? Would his heart leap in his chest in the same way that she was certain hers would? She could barely breathe, such was the quickening of her heart. Stumbling slightly as her gown caught around her ankles, she hurried after Lord Matthews.
“There.”
Polly’s whisper was barely audible as she came to a sudden stop at another, smaller, flight of stairs.
“The footman is just above,” she continued as Lord Matthews nodded gravely. “This would be the nursery, you see, if Lord Davenport had any children. Lord Wickton is being kept in the governess’s room.”
“Very good.” Lord Matthews cleared his throat and, with only a quick glance in Emily’s direction, began to climb the stairs with firm, sure steps. Emily drew in a long breath and hurried up after him, leaving Polly to follow behind.
“Ho, there!” she heard Lord Matthews say as he reached the top of the staircase first. “You, there. Where is Lord Wickton?”
Emily gasped as she caught sight of the stunned footman, watching his mouth open in surprise as he saw not only Lord Matthews but also herself and Polly. He stammered for a long moment, edging away from the wooden door that was clearly tightly locked.
“Lord Wickton?” Emily called, pushed to react with the deep urgency that ran through her. “Are you within?”
The footman made to step in front of her but was prevented from doing so by a gruff clearing of Lord Matthews’ throat. Emily pressed one hand against the wooden door, as though she might be able to somehow sense that Lord Wickton was within.
“Lord Wickton?” she called again, feeling a growing sense of fear as silence met her words. Had something occurred that Polly was not aware of? Was Lord Wickton injured or…?
“Miss Smythe?”
With a shudder of relief, Emily closed her eyes tightly and forced a long breath, attempting not to collapse against the door even though that was all she wanted to do. A tremor ran through her as she forced her eyes open, hardly seeing and certainly not even acknowledging the way that the footman hurried away from them all, certain to go and speak to Lord Davenport at once.
“I can hardly believe you have found me,” Lord Wickton said, his voice sounding tired and strained. “My dear Miss Smythe—my dear Emily, I cannot imagine what you must have thought over my absence.”
“I can hardly imagine what you must have endured,” she replied, swallowing her tears as Lord Matthews made his way towards her. “It will be over very soon, Lord Wickton, I assure you.”
Lord Matthews rapped hard on the door. “Wickton?” he said, his voice loud and authoritative. “You are not injured?”
“No,” Lord Wickton replied, filling Emily with yet more relief. “I am a little tired and certainly very weary of being within these four walls, but I am not injured.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” Emily said, aware of how her voice shook. “Your sister will be relieved to know you are safe. She is already on her way to London, along with her husband, and will be here very soon.”
There was a short silence. “Charlotte,” Lord Wickton said heavily. “She would have been concerned for me, I am sure.”
Emily nodded, even though Lord Wickton could not see her. “I had no choice but to inform her, Lord Wickton,” she said, hoping she had not done wrong. “I know that she will—”
“I thank you, Miss Smythe,” came Lord Wickton’s voice, interrupting her. “I know you have done a good deal in searching for me.”
Emily made to say more, only for the loud voice of Lord Davenport to echo up the staircase towards them all.
“Lord Davenport is near,” Lord Matthews said in a loud enough voice for Lord Wickton to hear. “Have no fear, Wickton. I shall deal with this and you will be gone from the house very soon.”
Emily did not even think about taking a step away from Lord Davenport, refusing to hide behind the imposing figure of Lord Matthews so as to avoid Lord Davenport’s sharp gaze. She held her head high, her hands pressed against her hips as she waited for him to ascend the stairs. There was nothing to fear from Lord Davenport any longer. It was he who would have to be very careful about what he said and what was to follow.
“Lord Davenport,” Lord Matthews said, his voice hard. “I see your footman has informed you of our presence here.”
Emily lifted her chin a notch, looking directly into Lord Davenport’s eyes as he drew level with them. He was, it seemed, somewhere between fury and bewilderment. His eyes were darting from Lord Matthews to the wooden door and then, finally, to her.
“What are you doing here, Emily?” he hissed, his face dark red and his brows lowering. “What is the meaning of this?”
“What is the meaning of this?” Emily replied, gesturing to the door. “You have Lord Wickton within this room, I believe?”
Lord Davenport said nothing for some moments, looking as though he were trying to find something to say, some way to explain the truth that Emily already knew.
“I think, Lord Davenport, it would be wise for you to open the door,” Lord Matthews said gravely, pinning Lord Davenport with his glare. “I know that Lord Wickton is within and I have absolutely no intention of removing myself from this very spot until the door is opened and Lord Wickton is released.”
“Nor I,” Emily continued, as loudly as she could. “And I think, Lord Davenport, there is no perceivable way that our engagement may continue.” She allowed herself to give him a soft smile, even though her frame was tight with tension. “I suggest you do as Lord Matthews asks. This façade, such as it is, is now at an end.” Drawing in a long breath, she tipped her head just a little, not allowing her gaze to drop from Lord Davenport for even a second. “I think you will find, Lord Davenport, that there is no other choice.”
14
The moment Arthur heard Miss Smythe’s voice, it was as though a bright light had shone straight through the small window and filled the room entirely. He had been sitting on the bed, hearing the music and the laughter float up from below and praying that somehow, someone would come to the door. He had pictured Emily’s face, had let his thoughts fix on her and his hopes had begun to soar.
When she had called his name, the moment had been so overwhelming that Arthur had struggled to believe it to be real, stumbling from his bed so that he could reach the door. To hear her respond to him, to hear her voice filled with relief and hope had been one of the most wonderful moments of his life.
“Lord Davenport has gone, Lord Wickton,” he heard Miss Smythe say, his anticipation at soon being released from his confinement growing steadily. “Thereafter, you will be freed, and Lord Matthews shall speak bluntly to Lord Davenport about what has occurred.”
“I am truly grateful to you both,” he replied, one hand pressed against the door as though he might reach through and press her fingers. “I did not have much hope other than Polly.”
“I
t was she who brought your note,” came Miss Smythe’s reply. “And she is waiting here with us. You shall have to find her a position at once.”
A small laugh escaped from Arthur’s mouth, the first one in many days. “I shall be glad to,” he agreed, resting his forehead against the door and letting a small smile catch his lips. “Without her, I should never have been able to write to you in time. Although…”
“I am not to be engaged for much longer, Lord Wickton,” came Emily’s reply, allowing him to breathe a little easier. “I have no intention of continuing with my betrothal to Lord Davenport. You need have no doubt about that.”
He nodded, even though she could not see him. “I am glad to hear that, Miss Smythe.”
Nothing more could be said for, within a moment or two, he heard loud footsteps approaching the door. Lord Matthews said something that Arthur could not quite make out, although Lord Davenport’s grunt was easily heard. Slowly the key scraped in the lock and Arthur stumbled back, his heart in his mouth.
The door pushed open and, with a mix of both relief and joy, Arthur’s fervent gaze fell on the person framed in the doorway. It was Miss Smythe. She was standing there, her eyes fixed on his and a beautiful smile spreading across her face. Her hands reached out to him and he could not help but go towards her.
“Lord Wickton,” she breathed, her fingers catching his. “You are safe.”
He could not keep himself restrained. Rather than simply bowing over her hand, he pulled her to him, practically crushing her against him as he held her tightly.
Miss Smythe, thankfully, went willingly. She rested her head against his shoulder, a long sigh escaping from her.
“I could not have rested until I found you,” she said hoarsely, and Arthur felt his heart fill with such a strong affection that it seemed to overwhelm every part of him. His senses were filled with her, his heart and arms keeping her close.
“It is good to see you, Wickton,” said Lord Matthews from behind Miss Smythe. “I have Lord Davenport here and I think we should have a rather serious conversation.”
