Petticoat Rebellion

by Joan Smith

“Highwaymen and smugglers hang about there when the law is after them. They have regular clients as well, but the real money is in hiding coves from the law. I wager that’s where he’d take her. He’d not want to go far in an open rig. Mind you, he might be making a dart for Gretna Green. Worse luck to the girl if he is. O’Leary already has a wife in Ireland, or I’d be married to him by now.”

  “You’re well away from him,” Abbie said.

  “He’s not a bad cove, all said,” Sadie said, smiling in fond remembrance. “Full of blarney. And generous, like, when he’s in his cups.” She shook herself to attention. “You don’t mind if I take Millie with me, Penfel? You know Millie is like a sister to me.”

  “Take anyone you like,” he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek, while Abbie watched in stern disapproval.

  Sadie went back into the tent, and Penfel turned to Abbie.

  “I’ll take Farber with me. You go back to the Hall with Mama and the others. With luck, I’ll be with you in an hour or two.”

  He took her elbow, and they began working their way toward the group from Penfel Hall.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why I substituted Miss Kirby for Susan?” he asked.

  “I assume it was to make Sadie jealous. If she had known it was only kidnapping he had in mind, she would not have cooperated.”

  “Yes, I counted on her jealousy, which is perfectly unfounded, by the way. O’Leary is mad for the wench. No accounting for taste.”

  “Yet he didn’t tell her he planned to kidnap Susan.”

  “I expect it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. He was angry with me for having duped him. He realized Bow Street was onto his circus lay, so that means of making money was gone. He saw his opportunity to snatch her and demand a handsome reward, and took it. He would have notified Sadie before morning.”

  “I wonder who O’Leary will demand ransom from, you or the duke.”

  “I know which of us has more blunt, and it is not me.”

  “Yes, but on the other hand, it is you he is angry with. He probably knows how much he could get from you. This escapade has already cost you a hundred pounds.”

  He turned to her and smiled. “A small price to pay for deliverance from a life with Lady Susan, wouldn’t you say? That is the alternative, if I don’t get her back unharmed, and very soon.”

  “One could do worse than a dowry of twenty thousand and a handsome, well-born, well-bred wife who possesses common sense.”

  “You omitted one of the major advantages—lengthy visits at Wycliffe and Elmgrove with ‘Papa, the duke.’ In fact, interminable visits. The Wycliffes are a close-knit family. No, no, a dowry of twenty million would not be a large enough bribe. Besides, I have other plans in the marriage department. But we shall speak of that later.”

  Abbie stumbled at that moment, and used it as an excuse for her shortness of breath. Penfel steadied her and gazed down at her, with a small smile twitching the corners of his lips. “Knocked the wind out of you, have I?”

  “Certainly not. I stubbed my toe.”

  “Stub your toe, meet your beau. May I introduce myself, Miss Fairchild?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Your marriage plans are of no interest to me,” she said in a breathless voice. “Though I do think you ought to delay any announcement you are planning to make for a month or so, after your recent refusal by Lady Eleanor. Or so the world thinks, at least. The visit was spoken of a good deal.”

  “You are right, as usual. But I shan’t wait that long to make my offer. Be prepared, Miss Fairchild.”

  “Don’t talk like a moonling, milord.”

  He tilted his head aside and looked down at her. “Do I hear a trace of Lady Susan in that speech? Come, Abbie, show me a smile to cheer me on my way. You know what dark thoughts will be harbored in my poor hollow old head as I fly, ventre a terre, to the rescue. A life of odious comparisons with Wycliffe. That’s better!” he said, when an uncertain smile peeped out.

  “I was just wondering what O’Leary will make of Lady Susan,” she said. “Do you know, I almost pity him.”

  “Aye, it would serve him right if she accepted him.”

  “He is already married, according to Sadie.”

  “He told her so, but I shouldn’t be surprised if that is only a ploy to escape parson’s mousetrap.”

  “I thought he was madly in love with Sadie!”

  “So he is, this year.”

  Abbie shook her head. “Men!” she scoffed.

  “What would you ladies have to complain about without us?” he asked with a charming smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As soon as Penfel returned Abbie to the group, they all left the meadow. Penfel and Farber hastened on ahead and were just dashing down the road in the curricle when the others reached the Hall. There was no need to ask if Lady Susan had turned up. Sifton’s sad face and shaking head told them she had not. As they sat about the saloon, discussing what they had learned from Sadie and worrying, Lord John began to see he was missing out on some fine excitement.

  “I ought to have gone with Algie,” he said. “He and Farber may need a hand.”

  Singleton hummed his agreement.

  Lady Penfel said, “Dear me, I daresay I ought to go as well. I mean to say, if Susan is in distress, there ought to be a lady there to succor her.” She turned an assessing eye on Abbie, who had been searching her mind for some excuse to join Lord John and Singleton.

  “I will be happy to go in your place, ma’am,” she said at once.

  “Thank you, Miss Fairview. At my age, you know, I am not up to such carrying on. So kind.”

  Lord John objected to this notion. “Algie won’t like our drawing Miss Fairchild into it, Mama. You know how he feels about—er, about ladies,” he finished lamely.

  “I know how it will look to Nettie if her daughter is not shown every consideration!” she retorted. “Wretched girl. How on earth did O’Leary get hold of her?”

  Abbie didn’t listen to the various suggestions as to how this had been achieved. She was busy deciding what she should take to help Susan in her distress. What if O’Leary had beaten her, even molested her sexually? She would take smelling salts, along with plasters, bandages, and basilicum powder in case of wounds. A blanket or pelisse might come in handy, if her clothing had been ripped.

  Lord John sent Sifton off to call the carriage, and Abbie hurried abovestairs to assemble what might be helpful in the rescue. When she returned below, Lord John and Singleton were waiting.

  “Going as well,” Singleton said, and muttered some incoherent sounds that Lord John translated as meaning Singleton was an excellent man of science, very good with his fists, despite his spectacles.

  “I trust you to keep John out of trouble, Miss Fairchild” was Kate’s parting shot.

  Lady Penfel said more practically, “You have a pistol, Johnnie?”

  He brandished a pistol. His joyful “Indeed I have!” said clearly that as far as he was concerned, this night’s work was rare sport.

  All the ladies went to the door to wave them off. Lord John called, “Spring ‘em,” to the coach driver, and they were off in a clatter of wheels and a lurch that caused some discomfort to Abbie’s neck. The coachman’s lively pace jolted them about mercilessly. Through the window, Abbie watched the tall trees sway in the breeze. A fat moon shone benignly, silvering the meadows as the grass shivered.

  “I say,” Lord John exclaimed when they reached the main road, “Does anyone know where we’re going?”

  “The Duck and Dragon, just south of Grinstead,” Abbie replied. “I told the driver.”

  “The Duck and Dragon!” Lord John’s enthusiasm for the project faded. “That’s a nasty sort of place, a den of cutthroat thieves, according to rumor.”

  “What sort of place did you think he would take her?” she asked.

  “That sort,” Singleton said. Some further mutterings suggested the Duck and Dragon was no place for a lady, meaning Miss Fairchild.

&nb
sp; “You wait in the carriage when we get there,” Lord John said to Abbie.

  After half an hour of jostling that seemed much longer, Lord John pulled the drawstring and the coach drew to a stop.

  “The tavern is just around the corner,” he said. “It might be wise to leave the carriage here and sneak up on O’Leary on foot.”

  After a little convincing, Lord John allowed Abbie to accompany them to the inn, with strict instructions that she was not to enter. She carried the blanket over her arm, and in her reticule, the medications. As they turned the corner, the Duck and Dragon came into view.

  The ancient building listing slightly to the left looked infinitely menacing in the darkness. A business catering to public needs was usually illuminated at night. It was a thatched roof inn of brick and timber, two stories high, with a low doorway and with a railed balcony running around the top story. Perhaps the criminal class had made this haunt their own because it allowed easy escape from a bedroom should the law appear unexpectedly belowstairs. It also had a small forest behind that would hamper capture.

  As they drew nearer, Penfel appeared from the shadows and accosted them, causing a yelp of fearful surprise.

  “Oh, it’s only you, Algie!” Lord John said.

  “What the devil are you doing here, cawker?” Penfel demanded.

  “We came to help you.”

  “And bringing Miss Fairchild along on such a mission!”

  “All Mama’s idea.”

  “In case Lady Susan has been hurt, you know. I have blankets and medications with me,” she said, indicating her supplies.

  Farber came skulking forward from behind the building, where he had been scouting out the situation.

  “He’s in there right enough,” he said. “His rig’s not in the stable—it would be hidden in the spinney behind, but I recognized his nag despite the bootblack he’d used on its forehead to cover the white star. An old trick. I didn’t ask any questions. ‘Twould only alert the stable hands I’m after him. Considering the importance of the victim, I’m wondering if we oughtn’t to call in the local constable and a few recruits to help us.”

  “The duke would not want any publicity,” Penfel said firmly. “We have practically an army here.”

  “A larger army within,” Farber warned. “The tavern is full tonight. If we try to haul O’Leary out, we’ll have every man jack of them on our backs.”

  Singleton lifted his hands, clenched into fists to denote his readiness for battle.

  “Is O’Leary actually in the tavern?” Abbie asked. “If he is abovestairs, you might get to his room without alerting the men in the tavern to your presence.”

  “I tried to look in the window. It has dirty, crinkly glass too thick to make out faces,” Farber said. “But I could see the size of the crowd, and it’s a full room tonight.”

  “Does O’Leary know you all by sight?” she asked, “or could one of you go in and see if he’s in the tavern?”

  “He knows Penfel, of course,” Farber said. “I don’t know if he’s onto me or not.”

  “I’ve met him,” Lord John said, “He’s seen you as well, Singleton.”

  “Hardly glanced at me. Wouldn’t suspect me— only a tutor.”

  Penfel and Lord John exchanged a questioning look. “He’s an excellent man of science,” John reminded his brother.

  “All right,” Penfel said. “Just walk nonchalantly into the tavern and order a small ale, Singleton. See if O’Leary’s there. Take a few sips of your ale and get out.”

  “I will.” He squared his shoulders and marched in without a backward glance. Singleton might be afraid to speak, but he obviously had no fear of physical danger.

  “A good man, that,” Lord John said.

  “Does he have a gun?” Penfel asked.

  “Er—no. I’m carrying the pistol.”

  Without further speech, the three men began to

  move closer to the inn, ready to dash to Singleton’s

  assistance at the first sound of trouble.

  Penfel looked over his shoulder and said to Abbie, “Go back to the carriage, Miss Fairchild.”

  She didn’t reply, or move. She just stood waiting, with her heart throbbing in her throat and the blanket over her arm, praying that there would be no shooting. Her only familiarity with the criminal class was a servant who snitched a few pounds from her purse. She had no familiarity at all with the rougher sort who used fists and pistols and clubs.

  The men stopped a few yards from the front door, waiting. After a brief interval, Singleton came out, shaking his head to indicate O’Leary was not inside. Thus far, there had been no sign of trouble. It seemed O’Leary had taken Lady Susan to one of the bedchambers, then.

  At once a terrible foreboding assailed Abbie. What if O’Leary had molested her? Penfel would have to marry her! Her own reputation would suffer as well. She was in charge of the girls. And with such a scandal hanging over its head, Miss Slatkin’s Academy would never be trusted to look after another student.

  After a moment’s anxiety, Abbie could no longer stand waiting. She crossed the road just as the men separated, going in different directions, Farber remained outside the front door. She ran forward and spoke to him.

  “What is happening?”

  “O’Leary is not in the tavern. Penfel is clambering up to the balcony to try to get a look in at the bedroom windows. There is no access to the balcony from below. He will have to scamper up one of the posts. The younger lads are waiting behind, one on either side of the inn to catch O’Leary if he makes it down from the balcony. We’ll get him this time, ma’am, never you fear.”

  “But will he already have harmed Lady Susan?”

  Farber shook his head sadly. “I fear it is a possibility. O’Leary has a hot eye and a busy hand for the women. Though Lady Susan is not exactly his type.”

  It seemed a long time they waited, worrying and watching as Penfel went from window to window, listening and trying to peer through the curtains. When he had made the whole circuit, he clambered down and joined them.

  “He may have her in one of those rooms. There is no telling from outside. I’m going in. I’ll ask for a room.”

  Farber looked doubtful. “This is not the sort of establishment that caters to lords.”

  “I’ve never been inside. They won’t know who I am.”

  “They’ll know you’re not their sort!”

  Penfel looked offended at this charge of a respectable appearance. “I might pass for a royal scamp, with some little changes to my costume. I’ve heard our local highwayman, Jack Rasher, dresses like a gentleman. I’ll say I’ve held up a carriage and need a private room for a few days.”

  “They’ll know you’re not a local cove.”

  “True, Jack Rasher doesn’t like intruders on his turf. I’ll be from another parish. Once I’m inside, I can investigate more thoroughly. Perhaps there are rooms hidden belowstairs or some such thing.”

  As he spoke, he removed his hat and placed Farber’s vastly inferior one on his head. He removed the diamond pin from his cravat, pulled off his cravat, and handed it to Farber. “May I borrow your kerchief?” They exchanged cravat for kerchief. These few modifications altered his appearance slightly, but it was his rakish expression and low accent that perfected the transformation.

  “ ‘Tis hard work being on the scamp lay, never placing your head on the feathers till the sun is out. I wager the coves won’t recognize Weston’s work,” he said, loosening his jacket and squeezing it into wrinkles to conceal the exquisite cut of London’s premier tailor. “I’ll need more loot.” He pulled his watch from his pocket and detached the chain from his waistcoat. He added watch and chain to his diamond cravat pin, pulled a crested ring from his finger and his purse from his pocket. He looked to Abbie. “Stand and deliver, miss! Your ring and necklace or your life.”

  She removed the little pearl ring from her finger and the antique necklace with emerald chips from her throat and gave them to him.
Now that he was ready to go, she was seized by a terrible fear that she would never see him alive again.

  “Would it help if I go with you? I could pretend I’m your—doxy,” she said, choking over the low word.

  He looked up from his collection of jewelry and grinned. “You wouldn’t fool a schoolboy,” he said, in his own accents, “but I admire your spirit. Is there any point asking you to return to the carriage?”

  “No.”

  “I’d like to go in with you,” Farber said, “but I fear I would give the show away. Those fellows can smell the law a mile away.”

  “You stay here with Miss Fairchild. If you see O’Leary darting out, grab him.”

  On this speech, Penfel cocked Farber’s hat over his eye, winked at Abbie, and swaggered into the tilting inn to request a very private room for a few days’ rustication.

  The proprietor, a shifty-eyed man with a vast stomach, was wary. “How did you hear about me?” he asked.

  “From a cove in my line of work. I’m not poaching on Jack Rasher’s territory, if that’s what worries you, I had a spot of trouble just outside Epsom. Fear I may have killed a cove. He didn’t want to part with his purse.” He patted his pocket that jingled from its contents and smiled.

  “I don’t need no details. I’m an honest businessman.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t reliable, now, would I? I’ll need a very private room—with a way out, if you know what I mean.” As he spoke, he put his hand in his pocket and drew out the jewelry, assessed it as if selecting a piece of the proper value, and returned it to his pocket. “Best pay in cash,” he said. “These sparklers are hot.” He handed the proprietor a bill of large denomination.

  The proprietor examined him a long minute, then nodded and gave him a key. “Back of the storeroom at the end of the corridor, next to the stairs. Behind the stacks of linen, you’ll find a door. The room’s small—has a bed and washstand. Under the washstand’s a trapdoor leading down a flight of stairs to the cellar. The cellar door there only opens from the inside. Safe as churches. There’s a bell by the bed. I’ll give it a ring if anyone comes asking for you, but there’s no need to panic. No one’s ever been caught there. You need food, wine?”