by Joan Smith
Antonia’s eyelids fluttered open, and she sat up. “Oh, Lady deCourcy. Is it morning already?”
“No, it is still evening. I have news for you—a letter from Lord Harold,” she said, preferring the grimed paper. “He has been looking high and low for you.”
Antonia snatched eagerly for the letter and opened it. Her face first turned bone white, then, as she read, a rosy flush suffused her cheeks and her eyes misted up,
Miss Wantage patted her shoulder consolingly. “There, there, my dear. You do not have to see him. We shall give you safe harbor here.”
“Of course she will see him,” Cressida said. “He is her husband.”
“In name only,” Miss Wantage pointed out with a satisfied smile. “He had not had his way with her yet. It is not too late to undo the damage. She can have the marriage annulled.”
Antonia was already scrambling out of bed, with Sandy leaping at her in an ill-bred manner. “You are very kind, Miss Wantage, but I think I ought to see Harold, for he is so very sorry and miserable without me.”
“They can all string a good line when they have to,” Miss Wantage warned. “Remember his drunkenness and brawling—and that on the honeymoon, when he was on his best behavior. One trembles to think how he will behave later.”
Antonia looked unhappy. “Harold does not usually drink too much, and is really very well behaved as a rule. He was just nervous, you see.”
“Is that what you will have to put up with every time your lord and master chooses to be nervous?”
Cressida managed to hold on to her temper, but she saw she must be rid of Miss Wantage. “Miss Wantage,” she said, “will you just check with Muffet and see that he has locked all the doors? We do not want a repeat of last night’s trouble, and it is coming on dark.”
Miss Wantage was always ready to put her own comfort and safety in front of anyone else’s and was gotten rid of in this manner.
Antonia turned a pale face to her rescuer. “Do you think she is right, Lady deCourcy? She is so much older and wiser. I know she has only my welfare at heart. She has been very kind to me—-but I do love Harold.”
“Miss Wantage is indeed older, but she has never been in love, Antonia. If you want to end up like her—”
“Oh, no! I shall answer Harold’s note telling him I understand. I think I did understand before, really, but was just miffed that he ruined our honeymoon. He says we will start all over.”
“I shall give Brewster your note to deliver, and Harold can write back with the details of when he can come for you.”
“Yes, that will be fine. And you will see that Sandy gets back to the castle until I return?”
“Of course.”
Cressida kept a sharp eye on the door to see that Miss Wantage did not come bustling back to undo her work. Antonia scribbled off a note with many x’s on the bottom, folded it, and gave it to Cressida for delivery.
“I shall get dressed again to be ready for him,” she said. “If you could just send your woman to assist me, Lady deCourcy.”
“I shall send Jennet.”
“That will be fine. I do like Jennet. She is very good with coiffures.”
Cressida took the note to Mr. Brewster.
“I know Harold is dead eager to get on with it,” he said. “To save coming back, I believe I can take a guess when he will be here. Twenty minutes for me to get to Melbury’s place, an hour for Harold to get himself cleaned up and get the rig harnessed, a half an hour to return, and there you are. Say two hours in round figures, for you may be sure some little thing will go wrong to hold him up.”
“He won’t want to drive his carriage about the neighborhood, will he?” Beau asked. “In case someone recognizes it, I mean.”
“No one will get a good look at it at night,” Brewster replied. “I shall tell him to leave it at the main road, for the servants from the castle would recognize it, and it makes a great thundering racket on that pebbled drive. Harold will come on foot up the drive. Can you have Sissie ready in two hours, Lady deCourcy?”
Lady deCourcy would have agreed to have her ready in two minutes. She wanted the girl out of the house before Miss Wantage could get at her again. She agreed. Brewster made another of his exquisite bows, uninterrupted this time, and left.
“We can no longer complain of long, boring evenings,” Beau said, smiling. “It is like an elopement, with the romance and the secrecy and all. By Jove, I think I shall elope—if I can ever find any lady foolish enough to have me.”
“It will be tricky getting Antonia smuggled out when we have three of Dauntry’s footmen guarding the doors,” was Cressida’s reply. “I shall suggest that she leave before they get here. She can wait for Harold on the main road. Of course, she cannot go alone. We should accompany her. Actually, I am curious to meet Lord Harold.”
“Sounds a bit of a nig-nog to me.”
Miss Wantage soon joined them. “Muffet has all doors secured,” she announced, and soon turned the conversation to the more interesting topic.
“It is strange Lord Harold did not come in person to deliver that grimy old letter,” she averred. “It was so filthy, I hated to see her touch it. I daresay he is foxed. I don’t know how Lady Dauntry could have handed that innocent child over to such a villain. And where is Lady Harold’s chaperon during all this melee?”
“She would hardly take a chaperon on a wedding trip,” Beau said.
“Her dresser, then. Lady Dauntry ought not to have sent the child all the way to the Lake District without any female companion.”
“That is the way I should like to travel on my honeymoon,” Cressida said.
“But you are hardly a young girl, my dear. Certainly a lady of your age need not fear being meddled with by men—though you really ought to have had Crump put a lock on your door while he was here, for there is no saying where a ravening lunatic will strike. Well now, what shall we do this evening? Would you like a game of Pope Joan? Not for money, of course. I don’t approve of playing cards for money, but just for the sport of the game.”
“Where is the sport if you cannot pocket a few sous?” Beau said, and picked up a journal.
Miss Wantage delivered a few homilies on the vice of gambling. Before she had finished, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. E’er long, Muffet showed Lord Dauntry in.
Cressida looked at him with vexation in every line of her body. As if a footman at every door were not enough! How the devil was she to get Antonia smuggled out with Dauntry sitting in her saloon?
“I did not see Sandy about,” he said after curt greetings had been exchanged.
“He is upstairs, patrolling the hall,” Cressida replied. “Can I help you, Dauntry?”
“A glass of wine would not go amiss.”
That was not her meaning, but she was obliged to pour him a glass of wine. She had hoped to discover what he wanted, do it quickly, and be rid of him.
Miss Wantage was just suggesting a game of Pope Joan, when Sandy was heard in the hallway. Fearing that Antonia was not far behind, since she did not know of her brother’s arrival, Cressida jumped up and dashed into the hall.
“Tell Lady Harold her brother is here,” she whispered to Muffet, whom she had taken into her confidence. “And put the dog out, Muffet.”
“His lordship told me he has stationed his three footmen around the doors. How are you to get the lassie smuggled out, missy?”
“She is not due to leave for nearly two hours. I shall be rid of Dauntry long before that. We shall have to distract a footman while she leaves.”
She returned in a flurried state to find Miss Wantage drawing a deck of cards out of her sewing box.
“Now that we are four, we can have a few hands of whist,” she announced. “Lord Dauntry prefers whist to Pope Joan.”
Miss Wantage could drag a game of whist out for hours. “I do not feel like cards this evening,” Cressida said. “In fact, I have a slight migraine.” She looked hopefully at her caller, to see if this got
him from his seat.
Dauntry was looking a question at her. He had sensed a lack of warmth in her greeting, and wondered at it. He began to outline where he had placed each footman, and how they were to patrol the house by turn, with Sandy prowling loose as well.
“Let us check the windows as well, to be perfectly safe,” he said with a sapient look to Cressida.
She sensed that he wished to be alone with her, but was so eager for him to leave that she ignored it. “Muffet has checked the windows,” she replied.
‘‘You recall the misunderstanding about the library door the night Tory went up to the castle,” Miss Wantage reminded her. “It might be a good idea to just check the library and see she has not left it ajar again. There is no counting on servants to do anything.”
Before Cressida could object, Dauntry rose and held out a commanding hand to her. She rose stiffly to accompany him.
As they walked toward the library, he said, “Have I accidentally stumbled into the ice house instead of the dower house?”
“It has been a trying day,” she said, and opened the library door into a dark room.
Dauntry found the tinderbox and lit two lamps. Cressida went to check the handle of the door and gave a shriek of alarm. A pair of close-set eyes peered in through the glass of the French doors, giving her a fright. Dauntry was immediately behind her, his arms protectively around her shoulders.
“It is Gaunt, my footman,” he said. “You really are a bundle of nerves tonight. I told you he was there.” Gaunt nodded and moved away from the door into the shadows.
Dauntry turned her around to face him, still holding on to her shoulders. “Is it just fear of the intruder that upsets you?” he asked, gazing at her with shadowed eyes.
“I have other things on my mind,” she said distractedly.
“Other things, or other people?”
She gave a guilty start. Did he know Antonia was here? “What do you mean?” she asked nervously.
“To be more precise, I mean another person. Specifically, the duke.”
“The duke?” she asked, surprised. “I have not given him a thought since coming here.”
His harsh features softened to pleasure. “Well, that is some small consolation at least. Cressida, I think you know—”
She heard a sound at the doors leading outside, and glancing at them, she saw Sandy pawing the glass, while the footman attempted to pull him away.
Dauntry had come determined to speak, but between the unexpected audience and the lady’s state of distraction, he found it uphill work. He took a deep breath to make one more effort.
“I think you know how I feel about you,” he said.
Cressida could not like his timing, but she felt a jolt of pleasure jar her heart. Her lips trembled open, and she gazed at him expectantly. His hands slid down from her shoulders to draw her into his arms.
“Well now!” an exasperated voice announced from the doorway into the corridor. Turning, they saw Tory squinting her eyes at them. “I can see I came at a bad time,” she said with an apologetic glance at her mistress, “but there is a bit of trouble abovestairs, milady.”
“What sort of trouble?” Cressida asked. Antonia! What could have happened to her?
“No need to get into a fit, milady, if I could just have a moment of your time. It is about Sandy. Hasn’t he gone and chewed the toe out of a blue kid slipper.”
“Surely that can wait until later,” Dauntry said at his most daunting.
Tory fixed her mistress with a commanding eye. “How is a lady to go out with only one slipper?”
It was Antonia’s slipper that had been destroyed, then. She was preparing for flight and had no other shoes to wear.
She gave Dauntry a conning smile. “You quite underestimate the importance of a lady’s slippers, milord. I shall come at once, Tory.”
“I knew I did not stand high in your estimation, but I had not thought an old shoe took precedence over—”
“But they were my very favorite slippers. Do not let me detain you, Dauntry. I am sure you have more important things to do. We shall be quite safe with your footmen. Good night.”
“I shall make a tour of the house and return— after you have tended to your slipper.”
On this angry speech he went out.
“I’m that sorry, milady, for I can see you are making great time with his lordship,” Tory said, “but Lady Antonia—I ought to call her Lady Harold, but never mind. She has flown into a fit of tears about her shoe. We tried a pair of yours—I knew you would not begrudge her one pair when you have nine sitting in your room—but she could put both her dainty little feet into one of yours. She says she cannot go barefoot on her wedding trip, and who shall blame her? Miss Wantage’s are even larger, and us servants have nothing fine enough for a lady.”
“Send Jennet to the castle to bring a pair of Antonia’s own slippers down here. The cook there knows she is here.”
“The very thing. But Jennet is busy trying to keep Lady Antonia’s wailing down to a roar. I’ll send the backhouse boy.”
“And I shall try to think of some excuse to be rid of Dauntry. It is clear we will never get Antonia bounced off while he is here.”
“You must do it, but do it gentle. His lordship has a bit of a temper. Used to getting his own way.”
"Yes, I had noticed,” Cressida said.
“While you are in spirits, milady, I have a confession to make. Circumstances obliged me to tell you a small white lie. About counting the spoons after Lord Harold’s visit—it was no such a thing. I wouldn’t want you to think him light-fingered. It was to make you believe he was Melbury, you see. I knew you’d learn his little ways sooner or later. The untruth has been bothering me,” she said piously.
“I quite understand, Tory,” Cressida said, and went upstairs.
Chapter Sixteen
Cressida found Antonia in the rose guest chamber, examining a well-chewed slipper. She held it up to show her hostess when she entered. “Oh, milady, only see what Sandy has done. Did Tory tell you?”
“Indeed she did. Tory has sent in secret to the castle for another pair of slippers. Dauntry was here, and may be returning, so you must be very careful not to come downstairs. He has posted footmen at all the doors as well.”
“Why do you need a footman at the doors? You have a butler.”
“It is because of Lord Harold’s breaking in last night. He gave us quite a fright.”
Antonia giggled. “Fancy anyone guarding the doors against Harold! His head will be big as a pumpkin when I tell him. Now that you know it was only Harold, you do not require the guards at the doors.”
“That is true,” Cressida replied, “but if I turn them off, Dauntry will want to know why, and you do not want him to know Harold and you are back.”
“You must not tell him! We would never hear the end of it. But how am I to get away unseen, with footmen who have known me forever standing guard?” she asked, her lower lip already quivering in disappointment.
“We shall create a diversion at one of the doors to distract the footman. Beau will make some fuss. Best to do it before Dauntry returns, I think. You slip out while Beau keeps the footman busy. Beau will meet you and take you to the edge of the road to wait for Harold.”
The quivering lip steadied just before lifting in a smile. “How exciting! It is just like an elopement.”
Cressida encouraged this mood. The poor girl would have a longish wait, and needed the excitement to keep up her spirits.
While awaiting the delivery of the slippers, Antonia had Jennet pack her bandbox. As soon as the slippers arrived, she put them on and crept to the head of the staircase to await her escape.
Belowstairs, Beau and Cressida met to discuss the matter. To escape Miss Wantage, who was bound to put in her oar and create difficulties, they went to the library, pretending to discuss sailing. Other than condemning the yacht wholesale as a monstrous waste of money and an invitation to drowning, Miss Wantage took no
interest in it. It was arranged that Beau would go out for a stroll, leaving by the library door, and letting the footman see him. When he got beyond Gaunt’s view, he would shout and thrash about, pretending he had been attacked, to draw Gaunt from the door to his rescue. Antonia would then slip out unseen, hide in the bushes, and wait for Beau to join her.
“Gaunt will be with me by then. I shall have to continue my stroll after being attacked. I am a brave soul,” Beau said, “venturing back out into the night after being set upon by a band of thugs.”
“You are right. No one would believe it,” Cressida said, frowning.
“Thank you very much!”
“No, it will not fadge, Beau. I must slip out with Antonia and accompany her down to the main road to wait for Harold while you distract Gaunt.”
“What if Dauntry comes back asking for you?”
“Tell him I have gone to bed with a headache. I have already complained of one.”
“But that leaves two ladies waiting on the roadside an hour in the dark, and you are left all alone to return from the main road after Antonia leaves. Better for you to go out and make the racket to distract Gaunt, and I shall slip out with Antonia and accompany her to wait for Harold.”
“I believe you are right. Yes, that is what we will do. The only problem is how I am to get out of the house to create this racket. I can hardly go out for a stroll alone at night. I need an excuse.”
“You shall require a breath of air, we go out together, I shall say I want to blow a cloud and walk Gaunt a little away from the door, you run beyond sight and holler. When we run to your aid, Antonia sneaks out. You blushingly admit you was scared by your own shadow and nip back inside. I go on for my stroll to finish my cigar, and meet up with Antonia.”
“Yes, and we shall extinguish the lamps in the library to keep the doorway nice and dark. I shall wear a dark mantle as well.”
Cressida thought about it a moment, envisaging the scene in her head, then said, “It begins to sound like a French farce. All we require is a few more doors and some lovers to hide behind them. Never mind, it will have to do.”
