by Carola Dunn
The short journey had passed unnoticed. With much whoaing from Aunt Tavie’s coachman, the carriage pulled up in front of the house in Grosvenor Street.
“I shall pick you up at eight in the morning,” Harry said as Giles stepped down. “You know where to find me in case of need—at my cousin’s house in George Street.”
“Right, we’ll be ready at eight. See you then.”
The clock in the hall said half past seven, just time to dress for dinner. Giles handed his hat and gloves to Frederick and unbuttoned his coat.
“Mr. Giles!” It was the butler. “Her ladyship asked me to give you this the moment you arrived.”
Giles took the twist of paper from the silver salver, noting with misgiving that his name was scribbled in Jodie’s handwriting. He unfolded it. It took a moment for the message to sink in, then he screwed the note into a ball and threw it violently across the hallway.
“Bloody hell, Jodie’s really gone and done it this time!”
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh dear,” said Charlotte. “Oh dear, I had a feeling Emily was not telling me everything.” With a frilly white wrap hurriedly cast on over her petticoat, she looked like a ruffled goose.
Giles poked moodily at the parlour fire. “Ever since we came here we have been so entangled in a web of fabrications that I suppose one more seemed like no great matter.”
“Your situation made it necessary,” Charlotte said soothingly, “and you can be sure that Jodie has the child’s best interest at heart, however misguided her notions. She is acting out of pure chivalry.”
“I know it.” He smiled ruefully. “Nonetheless, it’s left to me to extract her from this folly, and I’m not sure how to go about it. The surest way to catch them is to ride after them tonight, but once I reach them, if Thorncrest does not choose to turn around and drive to Waterstock then I shall have to hire a chaise. From what I have heard of hired carriages we might not reach Waterstock in time.”
“I believe they are horrid,” shuddered Charlotte, who had never been subjected to one. “Besides, what would become of Emily? She would be left alone either somewhere on the road with Lord Thorncrest or with Lord Font at Waterstock. I shall have to go with you to lend her countenance.”
“Which means taking your carriage, which means making up yet another explanation for Roland,” Giles groaned.
“Yes, and he will insist on going too, I fear. How we shall account for Jodie going north when you are supposed to sail from Bristol, I cannot imagine.”
“That’s easy. Being unfamiliar with English geography, Jodie confused two ports and told Lord Thorncrest our ship is at Liverpool, which is where we claimed to have arrived, you may remember.”
“Jodie will not like to be thought so ignorant.”
“Serves her right,” said Giles callously. “I need a map, though, to work out what we should do.”
“There is a map-book in the book room.”
By a stroke of luck, the shortest route from London to Liverpool passed not far from Kirkby Mallory. Giles and Charlotte were planning their story when Roland came into the book room.
He greeted Giles, then turned to Charlotte. “Not dressed yet, my dear?” he asked reproachfully.
“I heard that Giles was come and I wanted to tell him that Jodie has already left. Oh Roland, the most shocking thing has occurred.”
“Fortunately my sister left me a letter. She has made the stupidest mistake. It seems she has told Thorncrest we are to leave from Liverpool.”
“Liverpool! Then they have driven north?”
“I’m afraid so. Cousin Charlotte and I have been consulting a map. If they stayed at Waterstock overnight, as they intended, they will have gone north through Birmingham, whereas the shorter way from London is through Northampton. The roads converge at Stafford, however. The only chance is to waylay them there and dash back to Bristol.” Giles could only hope that en route he would come up with an excuse for detouring to find the miscreants at Kirkby Mallory.
Before Roland could speak his mind, a considerably disturbed mind by the look of him, Charlotte distracted him.
“I shall go with Giles,” she announced. “Emily will need a chaperone on the way home.”
“But my dear, in your condition!”
“I am very well, Roland, and it will do me no good to stay here fretting. Our carriage is excessively comfortable, since you were so clever as to have it built with the most up-to-date springs. Indeed I shall come to no harm.”
“Liverpool!” said Roland again, helplessly. “It is at least two days journey. What can Emily and Thorncrest have been thinking of?”
“Young people in love are notorious for not thinking,” Giles pointed out. It was no time to let Roland think either. He hurried on, “I must let Harry know of the change of plans. You agreed that he might go to Waterstock on the way home from Bristol, to experiment with your lightning rod. I hope you will be kind enough to let him go straight there now?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I shall write to my steward immediately directing that Lord Font be given every assistance, and you may send it to him with your own message. But Charlotte dear, do pray go and dress.”
“At once, Roland,” said Charlotte meekly.
She did go and dress, but in a travelling costume not an evening gown. She managed to convince Roland that it was his notion to go as far as St. Albans that night, in order to shorten the morrow’s journey. By the time they finished dinner her efficient household had everything ready, the carriage was at the door, and off they went.
~ ~ ~
My lord and lady Faringdale, accompanied by coachman, footman, abigail, and a generous purse, travelled swiftly. With frequent changes of horses, they reached Northampton on Thursday in time for luncheon at the Red Dragon. Charlotte consented to lie down for half an hour, though she did not appear to feel the need. Giles was amazed at her stamina. While she rested, he and Roland strolled a little to stretch their legs and then went to the tap for a glass of ale. The tapster regaled them with tales of runaway couples who had passed through the inn on their way to Gretna Green.
When they pulled out of Northampton, Giles still had no idea how to explain to Roland why he wanted to turn aside from their road to go to Kirkby Mallory. Roland himself provided the answer.
He had grown increasingly uneasy since listening to the tapster’s revelations, casting glances at Matty, the abigail, as if wondering whether to speak in her presence. “That’s all very well,” he suddenly burst out, “but Emily and Thorncrest are not in love.”
Charlotte looked as blank as Giles felt.
“Not in love?” she repeated in puzzlement.
“Giles said they did not consider the distance from Liverpool to London because they are in love, but they are not. Thorncrest simply wants a conformable wife and you may recall that Emily was set against the match at first. Indeed, I almost called it off. It cannot be expected that they should dote upon each other even though I was under the impression that she had come to see the wisdom of my choice.”
“You were under the impression, Roland?” Charlotte picked out the salient phrase.
“It’s my belief that my sister still objects to the match and that Judith is eloping to Gretna with Thorncrest in order to save Emily from him.”
“Good lord, she’s not so quixotic as to marry a man just to save…,” Giles started.
Charlotte silenced him with a look. “She is excessively quixotic, as well you know, cousin.”
“It was obvious from the start that Thorncrest admired Judith.” Roland conveniently forgot any number of contretemps. “I had not realized that he was infatuated to such a degree as to run off with her. The only thing I cannot fathom is why Emily should go with them.” He frowned in bafflement.
“Why, as chaperone of course,” Charlotte assured him. “The dear girl would not want Jodie to be compromised when she was going to such lengths for her sake.”
“Some accident might prevent the weddi
ng and leave Jodie in the lurch,” Giles pointed out, wondering why Charlotte was fostering the illusion of an elopement but willing to trust her judgment.
“Or Thorncrest might harbour less than honourable designs,” Roland said darkly. “I knew him to have something of a rakish reputation, but I trusted that marriage would settle him. I was never so shocked in my life as when he presented our girls to Byron the other night. I begin to doubt that he will do for Emily, even if we succeed in preventing this mad start.”
Giles saw by Charlotte’s look of alarm that this was taking the matter further than she had reckoned.
“I expect there’s some perfectly harmless explanation,” he said. “We’ll find that Jodie did muddle Bristol and Liverpool, and the others simply didn’t take the distance into account. However, in case you’re right, I’ll make a point of asking at every stop whether Thorncrest’s carriage has been noticed.” Of course, he thought, that was what Charlotte had been getting at. It would give them the perfect excuse to turn off the turnpike and head for Kirkby Mallory.
She smiled at him. “Thank you, Giles, that will set my mind at rest. You will let Giles enquire, will you not, Roland dear? It would look very odd for Viscount Faringdale to be making such enquiries, whereas Cousin Giles will not be recognized.”
She should have been a politician, Giles decided.
Roland’s comment about Byron suggested another persuasive detail. The moment came to report to Roland that Lord Thorncrest’s coachman had asked an ostler the way to the late Lord Wentworth’s estate at Kirkby Mallory.
“Apparently the man also wanted to know whether Lady Byron is in residence. Her mother inherited the estate, I gather. The ostler’s not sure if she’s there or in London, but it seems to me that Thorncrest might have brought a message from Byron to his wife, or possibly to her mother. In any case, they’ve gone in that direction, so we’d better follow.”
Roland was so confused by this additional complication that he made not the least demur.
The village of Kirkby Mallory was a mere hamlet and its only inn, the Crooked Sixpence, little more than a tavern. Fresh whitewash and newly blackened beams, together with the rosy glow of firelight through the windows in the dusk, suggested that the weary traveller might find a degree of comfort within. These particular weary travellers noticed nothing but the dark blue chaise drawn up to one side of the building.
“They are here,” said Charlotte with a sigh of relief. “Whatever we find, I am not stirring another inch this day.”
Giles flung open the carriage door, jumped down without waiting for the step, and strode into the inn. A plump man in a white apron bustled forward.
“How may I serve…?” His voice died away as Giles held up his hand.
Cutting through the babble from the taproom on his left, a clear American voice, raised in indignation, floated from a half-open door at the back of the house. “But you promised to help.”
“I must have been mad,” came Lord Thorncrest’s answer. “I cannot possibly allow Emily to be mixed up in this havey-cavey business.”
It sounded as if Jodie’s plans had gone awry. Grinning, Giles sauntered down the stone-flagged passage and pushed the door open. The scene that met his gaze wiped the grin from his face.
Jodie stood in front of a blazing fire, hands on hips, glaring down at the earl. He was seated beside Emily on a wooden settle, his arm protectively about her shoulders. And in Emily’s arms was a baby.
“Hush, you will wake it,” she said softly.
Giles groaned. Three startled faces turned towards him. Only the crackle of burning logs and the sound of his footsteps broke the silence as he stalked forward and dropped into a cane-bottomed chair across the hearth from the settle.
“So you’ve got her already. I only hope you can come up with a way to give her back.”
Three mouths opened to answer him, to be forestalled by Roland and Charlotte’s entrance. With a face like thunder, pale blue eyes popping, Roland took in the appalling sight of his sister with a babe in her arms and a man’s arm about her.
“What,” he demanded awfully, “is the meaning of this? You shall answer to me, Thorncrest.”
“I think I shall faint,” said Charlotte promptly.
Emily jumped up, thrust the baby at Thorncrest, and ran to support her sister-in-law to a chair. Roland started bellowing orders, shouting for the landlord to bring hartshorn and sal volatile and brandy. Dinah and Matty rushed in, followed by Frederick, a waiter, and a small child in a smocked pinafore who stood sucking its thumb and watching the confusion with wide-eyed fascination.
Giles took Emily’s place on the settle beside Lord Thorncrest and the baby, and beckoned Jodie closer.
“We told Roland Jodie made a mistake and you’re on the way to Liverpool,” he said swiftly. “He then came to the conclusion that you two are eloping. Lord only knows what he thinks now. He’ll soon realize the baby can’t be Emily’s, so I expect he’ll decide it’s yours, Jodie, and possibly that Charles is the father. We have to get rid of it quickly. Any ideas?”
“That’s easy,” said Jodie. “It’s the landlady’s.”
“What! You mean you…?”
“Can we postpone explanations,” the earl requested testily. “The brat has soaked me to the skin.”
Jodie went off into peals of slightly hysterical laughter. The baby at once began to wail. Noting Thorncrest’s scowl, Giles swallowed his grin and scooped the shrieking infant from his arms.
“My sister’s— my other sister’s child has done that to me a couple of times,” he said with sympathy. “Dinah! Dinah! Return this to its mother if you please.”
Emerging from the pack around Charlotte, the abigail obliged.
“I’m going to change,” grunted Lord Thorncrest.
Giles pulled Jodie down beside him on the settle in the earl’s place. She looked distinctly unhappy, he noted with a rush of tenderness. He steeled himself to sternness.
“Well?”
“Well, you see, I was thinking of Ada as a little girl. In my book, there’s a portrait and a great description of her at two or three. So when Emily pointed out that she is only four months old, we decided to practise with the landlady’s baby. It screamed all the time I was holding it,” she confessed.
“You can’t imagine what a relief it is to me to discover you haven’t kidnapped Ada yet.”
“We haven’t come up with a plan to get hold of her. The people here say there are guards, in case her father tries to abduct her. When Thorncrest heard that he backed out.”
“I’m astonished he ever contemplated helping you. Jodie, it won’t do. Quite apart from the moral and legal implications, there’s absolutely no knowing what might happen if we tried to take her with us to the future.”
“Cassandra came here without changing anything,” she said stubbornly.
“We can’t be sure of that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Besides, Cassandra is a very different case from Lord Byron’s daughter. Ada has a well-documented history, and she affected our own time at least to the extent of having a computer language named after her. There would have to be some changes, and we can’t tell where they’d lead.”
“But the law of Conservation of Reality…”
“…is of limited scope. It applies to small matters in which some mistake might have been made or consequences are minor. I can’t explain the maths to you, but I assure you, messing with the time stream is not a good idea. Perhaps you’ll believe me when I say I’ve given up all thought of publishing when we get home.”
“Oh Giles, no!” The concern in her dark eyes suggested that she guessed how difficult that decision had been.
He took her hand. “I don’t know if I’m right to tell you this—I meant to wait until just before we go, so that you would not worry in advance, and Harry said I should not tell you at all—Jodie, there’s some danger involved in going back. The numbers and equipment are as good as we can make them, and we know tha
t Cassandra did it safely. Still, there’s no guarantee. All other objections aside, we have no right to subject Ada to that risk.”
Her little hand tensed in his. “You mean, we might come out some other time or place? Or our atoms spread out across the galaxy, or another dimension?”
If the room had not been full of people, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed the fear away. Instead he merely nodded. “It’s up to you. You can choose to stay here.”
“But you are going.”
Again he nodded. “There’s too much calling me home.”
Her lips trembled but she managed a smile. “So if I stay, it will be you who are questioned by the police about my disappearance.”
“That will make a much less interesting story for the tabloids. Don’t try to make a quick decision. You have a whole day to make up your mind. But if we’re not at Waterstock by early Saturday it’s going to be pretty difficult to find another opportunity.”
“It’s only sixty miles or so. Charles said we can do it easily.”
“With him driving, perhaps. He may not agree to, now. And don’t forget that Roland thinks we are aiming at Bristol, which must be a good hundred plus, cross-country.”
“Oh dear, poor Roland,” said Jodie guiltily. “And he is worried about Charlotte, too.”
The crowd around Charlotte was dispersing, leaving their patient looking remarkably, not to say suspiciously, pink-cheeked and healthy. Lord Thorncrest returned to announce that he had asked the landlord to add several dishes to the dinner already ordered, which would be served at any moment. Charlotte, who was being urged by her husband to retire, declared that she was more in need of sustenance than repose.
A short while later they were all seated around the white-clothed table at one side of the room, eating and drinking as if they were an ordinary family party travelling on some perfectly unexceptionable occasion.
It could not last, Giles knew, nor did it. As soon as the waiter had withdrawn, Roland began to fuss.
“I do not know where you have hidden the child, but…”
