by Jenny Hambly
“How chivalrous of you to say so,” she simpered to him, “always so much the gentleman.”
Rosalind caught Belle rolling her eyes and had to bite her lip not to burst out laughing.
Intercepting a stern look from Lord Atherton, Lord Preeve cast about wildly for something to change the subject, his eyes alighted on Harry and George who were very interested in something they had in a small bucket.
“I s-say, lads, what h-have you got there?” he asked jovially.
Harry didn’t immediately respond, he was too busy poking something in the bucket with his finger but George raised his head and considered Lord Preeve seriously. “It is our catch, sir,” he explained. “It is p’raps not a very big fish, but it is our first catch and we shall eat it for supper.”
“C-caught something did y-you? W-well done, b- bring it over h-here and let me see,” he encouraged them.
They both grabbed the bucket at the same time and came towards Lord Preeve, each tugging it this way and that as they argued over who should carry it.
“But I caught it on my hook,” insisted Harry.
“Yes,” agreed George, “but I held the net that landed him!”
By the time they reached Lord Preeve, most of the water had spilled and the inevitable accident happened; as Harry gave the bucket one last huge tug in his direction, George let it go. Harry went toppling backwards and whilst the bucket remained firmly gripped in his rather grimy little hands, the remnants of the water and one quite small fish sailed in a graceful arc through the air before landing in Letitia’s lap, where it wriggled about quite frantically.
After looking down at it for one horrified moment, she gave out an undignified scream and leapt to her feet with more haste than grace.
“Ughh! That is disgusting!” she complained shrilly. “And just look at my dress! It is damp and slimy and no doubt smells of fish!”
Both boys froze for a moment, before George said in a small voice, “We are very sorry, miss, but it is only a very small fish.”
Letitia had gone red in the face and now turned a very unforgiving gaze upon them.
“Your turn to apologise, Harry,” quickly intervened Harriet. “Apologise and then both of you go back to the nursery, I will come and see you presently.”
Harry duly apologised politely enough but the effect was ruined by the giggles that drifted back on the breeze as they raced up to the house.
“Now now my dear, it is a very distressing accident I’m sure, but boys will be boys you know,” said Lady Atherton soothingly as Letitia continued to rant and rave.
“I’m glad to say I don’t,” replied Letitia through gritted teeth.
Sir Philip choked back a bark of laughter, rather unconvincingly turning it into a cough, drawing Lady Atherton’s attention in his direction. She raised her brows at him for a moment before smiling kindly at him. “Ah, Philip my dear, you are just the person, I know how much you enjoy driving around the countryside so I won’t hesitate to request you drive Letitia back home. I am sure she has had enough sun and won’t want to delay in changing out of her present attire.”
Sir Philip swallowed his punishment, bowing gracefully in both their directions.
“It would be an honour,” he avowed, offering his arm to the offended lady. “Miss Grey?”
The transformation was immediate. Gone was the petulant, disgruntled young person of a few moments before, now she smiled coyly up at her escort.
“Oh, thank you, Sir Philip, it is most kind of you.” Looking over her shoulder she smiled sweetly at the rest of the party. “Thank you for a very pleasant luncheon for I won’t allow such a trifling incident to spoil my day.”
The various members of the party either bowed or curtsied and watched the couple’s slow progress towards the house, nobody daring to look at anyone else. However, when they were judged to be out of hearing distance, Lord Atherton took his mother’s hand and kissed it. “A masterful move, Mama.”
Then the dammed up laughter broke forth in a gushing torrent until more than one person was clutching their sides and had tears running down their faces.
Lady Atherton was the first to pull herself together. “This is most unseemly, a well-bred person should never show an excess of emotion!”
“Not even when a wriggly fish lands in their lap?” gasped Belle, and they were all overcome once more.
Chapter 11
The following day also dawned fair and the boys were so much in charity with Belle, she offered to play a game of hide and seek with them in the gardens. Rosalind did not take much persuading to join them. Steering them clear of the lake, Belle took them to the Italian gardens which lay to the east of the house. In the main part all was balance and symmetry, a mermaid fountain set in an oval pond was the focal point from which gravelled walkways radiated. Small hedges lined the walks and four square flowerbeds filled with geraniums offered a small splash of colour amongst the predominant green supplied by cypress, myrtle and bay trees as well as a variety of topiary. Here and there a heroic statue or carved urn set upon a stone plinth added to the classical feel and at the far end, two shallow flights of steps leading in opposite directions both converged at an impressive ballustraded terrace. The whole was surrounded by taller, well clipped hedges with archways cut into them to provide access to a wilder arrangement. Here, the influence of Lady Atherton could be detected; narrow paths led between higher growing shrubs and flowering plants. Oleander, honeysuckle and roses vied with rosemary and lavender for space until you came to a jasmine-covered pergola leading to a small classical-style temple. It was the perfect choice for the game as its design created many opportunities for concealment.
Rosalind volunteered to be the first to be blindfolded by the fountain whilst they all hid. After a good twenty minutes of ignoring the giggling and rustling that came from various bushes, she finally caught Harry. His turn lasted a much shorter time for knowing George’s dislike of being alone, he very quickly found him under a bench not very far from the bush he had previously hidden behind. George had a much more difficult time of it and finally, Rosalind took pity on him and began to cough or sneeze to aid his cause. She was eventually caught but Harry was not satisfied.
“Have you a cold, Lady Rosalind?” he enquired suspiciously.
“No,” she answered, “but I admit the leaves of the bush were tickling my nose!”
Harry thought about this for a few moments. “Well, that would explain it, I suppose,” he conceded.
“Where is Aunt Belle?” asked an impatient George.
Rosalind knelt down beside him and smiled. “Do you think she is playing a trick upon us?” she asked him.
George thought about this and then nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “P’robly. Aunt Belle likes playing games.”
“Well, let’s go and find her,” Rosalind suggested.
But after a good half an hour of searching, even Rosalind grew weary and anxious. She knew Belle to be one for a joke but not for a moment did she really believe she would tease her little nephews in this manner. Finally, she turned to the two boys and suggested they went back to the house.
She sent the two boys to the nursery and went in search of Lord Atherton. She ran him to ground in his mother’s sitting room, where they were both involved in a game of chess. She wasted no time with preamble.
“Belle is missing,” she blurted out breathlessly.
Two pairs of startled grey eyes sharpened their focus on her.
“What do you mean missing?” Lady Atherton asked intently.
Rosalind explained quickly, adding, “I cannot think she would have abandoned the game in so precipitous a manner.”
“Did you see anyone else in the vicinity?” Lord Atherton enquired.
Rosalind shook her head. “Only a gardener; he was collecting clippings from the hedges he had been trimming.”
Lady Atherton nodded decisively. “You round up some of the others and organise a search, George, I will talk to Jacks
on and discover if he had set anyone to work in that part of the gardens today.”
Remembering the criticism he had previously received from Lord Hayward, he included all the available guests apart from Lord Preeve, but there was no sign of Belle.
Lady Atherton hurried to join them once she had interviewed her head gardener.
“All of the under-gardeners are accounted for and no-one was working in this part of the grounds today,” she informed them all seriously.
“Where exactly did you see him, Lady Rosalind?” Lord Hayward asked tersely, worry overriding his normal placidity.
“It was when we first arrived,” she said, thinking rapidly. “Yes, over there.” She pointed to where a neat row of clipped box hedges marked the east side of the garden. “He was putting clippings into a wheelbarrow.”
Sir Philip immediately strode over to the area indicated and gave the ground a close scrutiny. “Yes, the ground is quite marked, the wheelbarrow must have been quite heavy to have left such an imprint, but there are tracks only going one way and as hedge clippings are not heavy, I can only presume that Belle was carried off in it towards the east gate.”
All eyes turned again to Rosalind.
“You didn’t hear or see anything?” asked Sir Philip.
Rosalind thought hard. “It was George’s turn and we were all hiding; he was finding it hard to find anyone so I began to sneeze and cough to help him, perhaps that covered any other sound. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall anything that could help, maybe one of the boys saw something?” she added, looking quite distressed.
“I will go and talk to them,” said Harriet, marching off towards the house.
“It’s not your fault,” Sir Philip said briskly to Rosalind. “Hiding in plain sight is a very clever trick; even if you did see the gardener, your mind might not register it particularly as it is what you might expect to see, whereas if someone was acting furtively you would notice immediately. Nat and George, come with me, we will follow the trail to the east gate. Sir Thomas, go inside with Lady Atherton and Lady Rosalind, in case Belle turns up. It will only give food for gossip if we all hare off like a herd of cattle stampeding.”
The boys could throw no more light on the situation and so they gathered in the drawing room and gave way to useless conjecture. They were all agreed at last that Lord Rutley must be behind it.
“Both George and I were convinced Lord Rutley would flee the country after his last failed endeavour,” fretted Lady Atherton, pacing up and down. “What can he hope to achieve?”
Rosalind shivered. “Lord Atherton was convinced he was merely desperate but I wondered if he had not run mad.”
“If it is madness,” Sir Thomas interjected solemnly, “it is a very calculated sort. Desperate, he is of a certainty. If we do not presently receive a ransom note I will own myself very surprised.”
“He is a despicable creature and if he harms a hair on Belle’s head, I will see him in Newgate, scandal or no scandal,” Lady Atherton declared passionately.
“I very much think that if he is caught this time, it is highly likely that either George or Nat will run him through!” suggested Harriet, the thought clearly giving her some satisfaction.
“A very understandable sentiment, my dear,” her esteemed spouse allowed, “but great as the provocation is, as none of us would benefit from either of them being tried for murder, let us hope that it doesn’t come to that.”
There was nothing else to say, so they all relapsed back into pensive silence.
It was some time before the others returned, looking tired and somewhat dishevelled. Lady Atherton flew out of her chair the moment they came in.
“What have you discovered?” she demanded urgently.
Lord Hayward walked over to the unlit fire, leant on the mantelpiece and gazed down at a slightly besmirched boot but said nothing.
“We found the wheelbarrow and this,” said Lord Atherton, drawing a bright blue ribbon out of his coat pocket.
“Belle was wearing that this morning,” confirmed Rosalind quietly.
“Oh, how roughly must he have treated her for it to have come loose,” cried Lady Atherton tearfully.
A sudden noise drew all eyes to Lord Hayward, he had been fiddling absent-mindedly with a small, delicate figurine that had been on the mantle, it now lay smashed on the hearth.
“Knowing Belle, I would not consider it unlikely that she had dropped it intentionally, to give us a clue,” Lord Philip suggested calmly. “Which at least points to her not being too badly hurt.”
Whilst such a suggestion may have given relief to some people in the room, a grinding sound was heard as Lord Hayward, not satisfied with merely breaking the figurine, now crushed it almost to dust beneath his boot.
“When I find Rutley,” he said in a deep, quiet voice that was filled with resolution, “I shall give him the same treatment.”
For a moment, his audience were stunned into silence, never before had any of them seen this side of their relative or friend.
“Shouldn’t we be out looking for her, George?” asked Lady Atherton at last.
“We found no sign in the immediate vicinity, until we receive some communication from Rutley we can do nothing.”
A timid knocking on the door was followed by the entrance of Belle’s abigail looking tearful and pale.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said to Lady Atherton as she curtsied, “but is it true Lady Hayward is missing?”
On hearing the affirmative she turned paler still. “If you please, ma’am, could I have a private word?”
That drew the attention of all but especially Lord Hayward.
“There will be no secrets between any of us here, Sheldon,” he said tersely. “If you have any information pertinent to the situation, out with it!”
“I don’t know where she is, sir, I only wish I did. It’s her condition as is worrying me,” she said tearfully, wringing her hands.
His eyebrows shot up. “Her condition? What can you mean?”
Her eyes turned to the dowager countess. “I told her she should at least tell Lady Atherton but she would have it that it was too early and that she couldn’t bear any fuss or botheration,” she blurted out.
Comprehension dawned on this lady, shock swiftly superseded by incredulity were written clear. “Do you mean to tell me, Sheldon, that my daughter is in the family way?”
“That’s it, ma’am,” she affirmed guiltily and then burst into tears, “and I wish I had gone against her and told you for then she might have stayed in and rested like I told her more than once she should.”
“I doubt it,” she said drily but seeing that the maid was genuinely in distress, Lady Atherton shepherded her out of the room and handed her over to the calming ministrations of Mrs Simmons.
This latest titbit of information could not but increase the anxiety of all and not having heard anything more, it was a dismal party that made up dinner that evening. No one had any appetite for any of the splendid dishes set before them and conversation was desultory.
Everyone was at breakfast when the missive finally arrived; Sedgewick presented it with a suitably solemn countenance to Lord Atherton to whom it was addressed. It was brief and to the point.
Dear Atherton,
As you have no doubt guessed, I have your esteemed sister. Lively, isn’t she? She is at present unharmed. If you come to The Blue Bell Inn near Donnington this evening you will find her still in this much to be desired condition. You will come alone this time, for although I am loath to question your honesty, I have taken the precaution of hiding her elsewhere and if this condition is not met I will not reveal her location, which I admit, is not an entirely safe or comfortable one. Although it pains me to be vulgar, you will also bring with you jewellery to at least the worth of £5,000 pounds and 200 of the new gold sovereigns (I really cannot be expected to flee this dismal country without some means of supporting myself).
Rutley
A few moments’ silence gr
eeted the reading of the letter, emotions ranging from relief that the means of recovering Belle had been revealed, to anger, amazement and incredulity. Then they all started speaking at once.
“But that is nearly twenty miles away,” Lady Atherton said. “Why so far?”
“Why does he not just ask for money?” asked Rosalind in a small voice. “Why the jewels?” Lord Atherton met her clear gaze and read the worry that she might still be responsible in some way for planting the idea in his head.
“They are portable,” he said briefly, “small, light and easily sold; perfect for a man wishing to travel swiftly.” He transferred his gaze to his mother. “He would not be so foolish as to come too close again, I have taken steps to be informed if anyone answering his description comes into the neighbourhood, something I am sure he has thought of. He may be desperate but he is not stupid.”
“I always thought h-he w-was a d-dashed loose s-screw,” avowed Lord Preeve (who determined not to be absent when such stirring events were afoot had managed to master the crutches which were to be his constant companions for some weeks to come), “b-but George, you d-don’t really m-mean to reward h-him for his d-damned infamy, d-do you?”
“There can be no question of trifling with him when Belle’s safety is at stake,” protested Lady Atherton. “I will willingly give my jewels to ensure her safe return!”
“It will certainly be best to proceed with caution,” concurred Sir Thomas, “a man who will resort to kidnap, blackmail and extortion is not to be underestimated.”
“You will not go alone, however,” stated Lord Hayward in a steely voice.
“No,” agreed Sir Philip firmly, “his mind is so twisted that we cannot rely on his honouring his side of the agreement after all.”
“Well, do not think that I will sit here and meekly await your return whilst you all go off in hot pursuit,” Lady Atherton informed them. “Who knows what state she will be in? She will need me.”
Her son looked exasperated. “We cannot all go, he will not be so easy to deceive this time.”
