“Did you ask him what his proof was?"
“Yes, but he merely laughed and said I would see in due course."
“Hmm. What a reprobate the man is."
“But, Catherine, you don't understand! He believes that Mama would actually ride out in the dark and stop people on the road and rob them."
“I realize that's what he believes.” I was trying to figure out whether it would be necessary to tell her the truth. What a difficult thing that would be! Amanda is not long on understanding this sort of problem. “You needn't worry about it, my dear,” I said reassuringly. “I'll deal with Cousin Bret. With Sir John's help, if need be. What a joy it will be to see our reprehensible cousin leave Hastings for good."
She was pathetically grateful for this reassurance. “So you don't think Mama is a highwayman?"
I raised my brows at her. “It seems highly unlikely."
“But she does talk to ghosts."
“That's hardly the same thing as robbing people at pistol point,” I insisted. “Do you really think your mother is capable of that?"
Much as Amanda wished to say no, I could see that she did indeed regard it as conceivable. Poor girl. Well, there was little I could do to eliminate her doubts until I had talked with Cousin Bret. And another idea was forming in my head. It might just be possible to prove to him that Mama was not the highwayman.
Amanda continued to fan herself and hop about the room, trying to achieve a measure of calm but not being entirely successful. “It's because of Sir John,” she declared. “None of this would have happened if Sir John had not arrived to upset the household."
“You can't be serious.” I took the fan from her destructive hands and placed it safely back in the drawer. “Sir John is not responsible for the actions of either Cousin Bret or Mama. He's here in the country to find a pair for himself, and one for Robert."
“Robert! Now there is the real culprit. If he were here, he could deal with all these terrible things. Why, oh, why does he stay on in London when he knows that we need him?"
“I don't think he knows how much we need him, and it's the earl's doing, I daresay. He has a very tight rein on Robert, with his threat of creating another scandal in the newspapers if Robert doesn't behave as he wishes."
Amanda sighed. “I must admit that it's frightfully embarrassing to have the earl publish those mean-spirited tales about us. Who cares if one of our horses goes missing for a week? I shouldn't like it at all if he made a laughingstock of us when I am in London for my Season."
“Perhaps he will have died by then,” I suggested ruthlessly. “Why don't you run along and go to bed, Amanda? I'll see that everything is taken care of."
“But how?"
“I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out. And don't be upsetting Mama with your tales of highwaymen. She won't need to know about that, I think."
“Well, certainly not! Do you suppose it is actually Cousin Bret who's the highwayman? Didn't he arrive here at just about the time the robberies began?"
“Unfortunately, it was a few weeks later. But I think Cousin Bret has a great deal to answer for. Whatever you do, don't agree to marry him. It would make him insufferable, even if you backed out later."
“Agree to marry him! I should say not!” Her eyes narrowed. “How much do you know about that?"
“I listened in on your conversation this morning. Now don't throw a tantrum, Amanda. I suspected what he was up to and I had to confirm my suspicions. You might have been too proud and proper to tell me when you'd turned down an offer, no matter how offensive it was. I'm glad you made an exception in this case."
“I should say so! He spoke of forcing me to marry him. But I was willing to lay the matter to rest if he never brought it up again.” She gave a proud toss of her head. “Well, I shall go to bed. And I'll lock my door, you may be certain. One never knows what to expect around here any longer."
Chapter 15
I watched Amanda go with some trepidation. What she had said was true. Things had become rather muddled. It was beginning to look as though I would have to find a way to drag Robert down from London, no matter what his situation was. And I wondered if that would influence Sir John's behavior in any way.
The baronet was behaving very much as though he were interested in me, but he had made no promises and asked for no assurances on my part. His actions on first coming were suspect. He had, after all, appeared interested in Amanda then, hadn't he? Well, after the incident at the pond. Every time I thought about the pond, my cheeks still flushed with agony. And yet, and yet...
Considering what had happened since, it also gave me the most wonderful feeling of excitement. At the time I'd been annoyed, but now when I thought of Sir John, I could only picture the two of us swimming there together, naked, our pale skin clear in the water, our bodies coming together...
I swallowed and forced my mind to other matters, such as restoring Robert to the bosom of his family. Only a drastic event would bring him down to the country. I set my mind to think of something that I could lie about in a letter but that he would intrinsically believe. Would he believe that I was so tempted by Sir John that I was considering eloping with him?
The idea intrigued me. No family could stand to have such an elopement, though truth be told, it was done often enough and covered up, even among the ton. But the Earl of Stonebridge could have such a wonderful time with it, writing the most scathing letter to the Morning Post, that surely it would be something Robert would try very hard to prevent, should he somehow know. He did, after all, have some idea of Sir John's reputation, presumably.
The more I considered the possibilities, the more I liked the plan. I drew quill and paper toward me and chewed on the tip of the quill for a few moments before I hit on the proper way to handle the matter.
Dear Robert,
You will be surprised to hear from me, since I so seldom take pen in hand. But I wanted to make sure that you would not be coming down to Public Day. Or are you? It is most important that you let me know.
The preparations are well under way but I know you have a thousand obligations in London, so I expect you won't be able to find the time to join us. And, after all, you've been to many a Public Day in your time, haven't you? This one would be no different, and undoubtedly boring for one who is used to the more exciting entertainments of London.
Your friend Sir John is not spending a great deal of time searching for horses for you. He has chosen his own, of course, with my help, and he will be the envy of the ton for them, I daresay. He's quite a handsome fellow, isn't he? And so very charming when he decides to make himself agreeable. He tells me that he has never before contemplated marriage and that perhaps this is because the mamas in London know his reputation.
I haven't their advantage! But my friend Lady Sutton wrote and I am able to discount her tales as malicious gossip of the ton. Sir John has explained everything to my satisfaction. Not that Mama would approve of him as a husband, I daresay, or even you, though he is your good friend. I understand that men do not necessarily wish their sisters to marry the men they take for their favorite companions.
Now don't worry about me. I will do very well for myself. Sir John is not at all the villain he is made out to be and I'm sure he will take perfectly good care of [scratched out] anyone he chooses to make his bride.
After a while I will see you in London perhaps. When Mama and Amanda come up for the Little Season, that is. Do you know Sir John's family home in the city? He says that his mother absolutely never comes there, that she stays always in the country. And that the staff are quite accustomed to running the place, so that it would be no job at all to oversee such a place.
We'll manage quite well at Public Day, so don't be worrying about us. With so much hustle and bustle, it would be easy to get lost for a while, wouldn't it? But that is just a whim of mine. Of course no one will get lost. All my love, dear brother. Possibly I shall see you sooner than you expect.
Your loving sister,
Catherine
That should well and truly put the wind up him, I decided as I blotted the letter on paper to keep it from smudging. Because Robert is not suspicious by nature, he wouldn't think to look through the thinly veiled suggestions to a prank. Likely he would feel clever in discovering my message in that jumble of artless chatter. Oh, I was very pleased with myself and felt that the letter would do admirably.
* * * *
The next morning I saw to its posting first thing. I did not trust it to a footman but took it into the village myself and made sure that it would reach Robert by the next morning. Thank heaven for the mail coaches. As I was returning to the house, I came upon Cousin Bret, who was obviously waiting for me.
“I haven't been able to find your sister all morning,” he said in an offensively accusing voice. “I made sure she had gone into the village with you."
“I'm afraid not. I haven't seen her since breakfast myself. What was it you wanted with her?"
He gave me one of his coy looks. I swear there is nothing more disgusting than one of Cousin Bret's coy looks. A grown man has no use for such expressions, and I was on the verge of saying so when he distracted me by saying bluntly, “I intend to marry Amanda, and I hope you will not attempt to thwart me."
“I shouldn't think Amanda had the least intention of marrying you, Cousin Bret. You would do yourself a service to forget such an ambition."
“Oh, I think she will have me in the end. It might prove a very necessary thing for your whole family."
If he thought I would stand for his threats, he was quite mistaken. Right there on the path I would have kicked him in the shins if Sir John had not appeared and given me a sharp, warning look. “Humph,” I said, and stalked off, leaving the two of them to confront each other.
After the previous evening I felt in charity with Sir John and fully intended to inform him of Mama's confession and assurances of no further highway robbery. But I would have to wait for that. He looked determined to give Cousin Bret a set-down, which I only wished I could stay to hear.
It wasn't all that hard to find Amanda, if you knew where to look for her, which I did. When she was hiding, or sad, or just grumpy, which she never admitted to, she disappeared off to the old greenhouse, which is no longer used for plants. Robert would like to have it torn down, but it's handy for storage. It's such a pretty building, with vines making a delicate tracery over all the glass panels; I'm sure I would quite miss it if it were destroyed.
Anyhow, Amanda goes there, because she has always kept a chair and a little cache of books in one of the nooks. I doubt that she has much to fear in the way of being interrupted, either. The old farm tools left there are awaiting repair and are only rarely retrieved.
So as not to startle her, I called out her name, as though I were hunting for her and had been all around the estate. She appeared around the corner of the building, just as though she'd been walking. Amanda is of the belief that no one knows her hiding place, and rather than be discovered there, she would come out to meet me, like a mother rabbit leading the fox away from her babies.
“What is it you want, Catherine?” she asked, her voice cross but unrepentant. “One would think I would be allowed to have a little time to myself without the whole of the world attempting to search me out."
“You're just lucky Cousin Bret didn't get this far. He's the other one out searching for you."
Her face tightened. “Well, I shall certainly do my best not to find myself in the same room with that dreadful man."
All night I had worried about his claim to have proof that Mama was the highwayman. For the life of me I could not think what he might possess. The costume was safe in my room and the booty was safe in Robert's. I had checked both caches first thing in the morning. My assumption had to be that he was bluffing.
I dusted a cobweb from the sleeve of my jonquil muslin, an attempt to appear wonderfully nonchalant. “It may be necessary for you to go further than that. What would you say to announcing a false engagement?” Her look of astonishment was almost comical. I hastened to explain. “Not to Cousin Bret! To some fictitious gentleman in the next county. Our cousin couldn't expect you to marry him if you were already engaged."
“How can you think me capable of such deceit?” she demanded. “I shall, of course, do no such thing. My own word of refusal is quite enough to damp Cousin Bret's pretensions."
“You must grant me leave to doubt that. He's the most persistent fellow in the world and he believes he has a tool with which to blackmail us."
She regarded me with anxiety. “Mama is not doing something awful, is she?"
“I think you can feel certain that our mother will not ride out to commit highway robbery.” I hastened on. “That is hardly the crux of the matter. We must find a way to rid ourselves of Cousin Bret before he tries to cause trouble."
“But how?"
I had seen the old dovecote on my way to find her and now I was struck with a wonderful inspiration. “I have it! The most terrific plan. But I will need your help, Amanda."
“Oh, dear. You know I'm no good at schemes and playacting.” She backed away from me toward the greenhouse and was about to smudge her dress on the dust of the windows.
I caught her hand and pulled her along beside me as I walked rapidly toward the dovecote. “You'll do just fine. Just listen to what I have to say. You may remember a discussion we had with Sir John a very long time ago about the location of the key to the back door, that it was hidden outside."
“Vaguely."
“Well, we're going to find the key right now, and all you have to do is make certain you tell Cousin Bret about it."
Her brow puckered with confusion. “But how will I be able to do that?"
“It will be simplicity itself. When he asks you to walk with him, you will steer a course toward the dovecote and, as if idly, reach your hand out to check for the key, which you will look at with amusement and tell him the story of how our brother used to let himself into the house with it late at night."
“What possible good could that do?"
“Trust me. It will be enough, if I am able to manage my end of the matter."
“And what is that?"
“Nothing that would be of the least interest to you, I assure you.” Amanda was perfectly satisfied with this statement. She has practically no curiosity at all.
“But what if Cousin Bret doesn't wish to walk with me?"
This was pure fantasy. “Cousin Bret will walk anywhere with you. Just lead him in the right direction."
She sighed. “Very well, if it's that important."
“It is. Do not fail me."
The seriousness of my tone must have impressed her. She looked anxiously into my face for a long moment, and then nodded. “Very well. I'll do as you say. Though I shan't at all like to walk with Cousin Bret."
When I had left her I went into the house and found the key to the strongbox in the attic. Everyone knows about the strongbox key because we have a family joke about it. The key is astonishingly large for such a use and it has the initials SB on it, just as though they belonged to a person. Mama had laughed about it from the moment she came to Hastings as a bride. The strongbox key would do very well for my plan, since it would be easy enough to make it disappear without anyone realizing what I was about. And the strongbox itself made a terrific hiding place.
* * * *
Sir John waylaid me as I was going back into the house, and guided me rather firmly down a sunny path leading away. “Where are we going?” I demanded, two or three times. But all he would say was, “You'll see.” He didn't seem particularly annoyed with me, so I quickened my pace to keep up with him and hoped we didn't have too far to go.
When we were out of sight of the house, I began to give him sultry, smoldering glances. At least, that is what I hoped they were. His lips twitched with amusement and he muttered something about my being the most provoking girl he'd ever met. Well, I wasn't about to disagree with
him because I secretly suspected that he liked being provoked, in more than one way. We trotted on past the open pond and right up to the rocks hiding the secret one. He made a cursory inspection of the area and then waved me along to follow him. We arrived in the glade with our shoes in hand and our feet making wet patterns on the warm rocks.
“I don't know how I resist you,” he sighed, drawing me into his arms in a most charming way. “One would think that you had some kind of spell over me. Just what is this web you weave, my dear child?"
“I am not your dear child. I'm nearly twenty-one years old and quite a grown woman."
“I remember.” He smiled reminiscently and suggested that we sit on the rocks.
When I had seated myself, he gazed off at the trees and said in a thoughtful voice, “Your cousin is convinced that your mother is the highwayman, and I must confess that I've had to reach the same conclusion. It could have been you, except that there are too many clues pointing to your mother—Antelope, for one."
“And another?"
His lips twisted ruefully. “Your mother, touched as she is by the spirits of the dead, is simply the more likely person to go out and rob folks on the high road. But you will have to explain to me what you were doing out the other night."
“I meant to follow her. And then, when I found that I was being followed, I determined to convince both you and Cousin Bret that I was indeed the highwayman."
“Why?"
“I think I had some idea of protecting Mama. We've had a long talk now, she and I. It won't happen again. It was one of her ghosts, a Cavalier relative who looked like Papa but offered her a chance for some excitement and adventure.” I shrugged. “I don't suppose you would understand."
“Well, not perfectly,” he admitted, “but I have a great deal of sympathy for your mother. Our problem now is that Cummings says he has evidence of her robberies. Is it possible that he's found her store of booty?"
“No. The room is locked and none of the purses is missing.” It gave me chills even to mention the robbed items that way. More than anything I just wanted them out of the house and returned to their rightful owners. “How are we going to get rid of those things?"
Miss Ryder's Memoirs Page 18
