In All Honour

by Beth Elliott

  Sarah made a polite reply. Mrs Bourne waited for a moment, then gave Sarah a hesitant look. ‘I do not suppose—’ She broke off, glanced away then nodded resolutely and began again. ‘Would it be too much to ask— My dear Miss Davenport, it would give Henrietta so much pleasure to make your acquaintance. Is there a day when you could take tea with us?’

  This was a little sudden. However, Sarah understood the lady’s anxiety to keep her sister in good spirits. She had nursed her own sick father and knew how much a visitor meant to someone unable to get out into society. Moreover, it was a way of avoiding a further conversation with Mr Keating. So she smiled politely at the elegant Mrs Bourne.

  ‘I believe my friends have made plans for every day this week. But I can excuse myself from their schemes for this afternoon, if that is acceptable?’

  A gleam showed in Mrs Bourne’s eyes. ‘I knew I could depend on you. Thank you, indeed we will be most happy to see you this afternoon.’ She gave Sarah her direction. It was at a house in the Circus. When Sarah heard that, she felt her heart thump uncomfortably. But James had said Lord Percival was out of town, so there could be no risk of running into him.

  There was an assembly that evening and when she returned to her friends, Sarah found that they had all firmly agreed to be there. Lavinia was to dance every dance.

  ‘That way, she will be perfectly ready to take her place at any London ball,’ said Mr Lucas Wilden cheerfully.

  ‘I shall be returning to London soon,’ said Richard, ‘and if we meet at any balls, we may stand up together if you wish.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ breathed Lavinia. ‘It is so much more comfortable to know I shall have some friends in Town, especially at the beginning.’

  ‘But no waltzing!’ said her brother, poker-faced. ‘You should keep practising the steps but never dare to dance it until a dowager gives you permission.’

  Lavinia’s eyes opened very wide as she looked round the circle of faces, all frowning sternly at her. She went pale then she saw Richard’s mouth twitch. Her expression changed to one of indignation.

  ‘You are being horrid,’ she laughed, ‘you will drive me to distraction with all this advice.’

  Sarah happened to be looking at Lizzie when Richard made the comment about returning to London. She saw a change come over Lizzie’s face, as though she had been struck a physical blow. Her eyes darted to Richard. Now he was looking at Lizzie with a question in his eyes. Sarah put up a hand to twist her curls as she began to make sense of Lizzie’s recent behaviour.

  She thought of the jokes and the dancing they had shared, how they often had their heads together; Lizzie’s pleasure in riding round town with him; all things she had assumed were just agreeable novelties after Lizzie’s strictly chaperoned years in Lisbon. Then there had been the panic when he was so ill. The scales fell from her eyes. She drew in a deep breath. Her heart beat so fast that she was dizzy. There was a buzzing noise in her ears.

  Like a bucket of cold water came the realization. Even if Lizzie now understood that she loved Richard, it changed nothing in her own situation. James had made it impossible for the Thatcham family to want a link with the Davenports. Lizzie’s voice broke in on her whirling thoughts.

  ‘Oh, Sarah! You have quite spoiled your hairstyle by making all those ringlets. Let me put it right.’

  At that very moment, Greg was descending the stairs in the house in Sydney Place. He was freshly shaved and immaculately dressed but his eyes were heavy and his face bore the signs of fatigue from several nights of watching and riding. The smell of fresh coffee tempted him into the parlour. He found his father there, reading the paper and with the coffee pot on the table in front of him.

  ‘Ah!’ said Greg with satisfaction. He poured himself a cup and downed it in two gulps. Sir Thomas raised his brows but made no comment. He continued to watch as Greg poured out a second cup. The brew had an immediate effect. Greg looked up, met his father’s eyes and smiled.

  ‘Everything well here, sir?’

  Sir Thomas nodded. ‘I am pleased to say that Richard seems fully recovered. And we have been spared any further incidents.’ He looked under his brows, his face impassive.

  Greg swallowed some more coffee. ‘Which would indicate that I am the prime target.’ He saw the flash of alarm in his father’s eyes. ‘Be easy, sir. I think we are reaching the end of this story.’

  They looked at each other. Eventually Sir Thomas nodded. He sighed. ‘I know you cannot speak of your work. We agreed on that long ago. But I mislike the situation. These attempts to dispose of you – or by default, your brother – are becoming tedious.’

  Greg’s hand clenched into a fist. ‘They will pay for that,’ he muttered. He stared moodily out of the window, reliving the past few nights of hard riding and surveillance. Together with Preston, he had joined Josiah Whitby and his Riding Officers as they observed the theft of supplies from the cargo ship. The evidence was there now to incriminate the whole gang, including Lord Percival.

  Greg’s lips thinned. There were witnesses to the man’s involvement in the planning and execution of the crime – and therefore, it was certain that he was the person passing on information from his friends in the government. He would not escape being arrested as soon as Josiah Whitby could obtain a warrant. But in Greg’s opinion, this was still a risky business. He wanted swifter justice on this murdering villain.

  For one thing, he did not want to wait for a lengthy trial, and for another, he feared that with such powerful friends, Lord Percival might simply be allowed to slip away to start his criminal activities elsewhere. Greg was not prepared to risk that. His eyes narrowed as he checked through the steps of his scheme. It should work. He would have justice for all his family and for Sarah as well.

  He brought himself back to the present and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Almost noon. Where is Richard?’

  ‘At the Pump Room I assume, together with his friends. I have insisted that Jenkins goes with him everywhere.’ Sir Thomas made a little gesture, which showed more than words how much it mattered to him. ‘I could not bear another crisis like the last one.’

  No indeed,’ agreed Greg. ‘But he should be safe enough at present.’

  Sir Thomas gazed at him fiercely. ‘He has to be safe enough at all times.’

  There was a pause. Greg sat waiting, aware that there was some important news to come. His father kept turning his quizzing glass over and over in his hand. Finally he raised his brows, grimaced and looked directly at Greg.

  ‘Obviously, over these last few days, I have made it my business to – ah – be present when Richard went to any social event.’ He dropped the quizzing glass and fumbled as he tried to pick it up again. Keeping his eyes on his son’s face, he continued, ‘From what I have observed, it seems to me that Richard has become very fond of Charlie Gardiner’s little niece.’

  Greg noticed the underlying question in his father’s steady gaze. He raised his own brows and smiled. ‘I rather thought that was the way the wind was blowing.’

  Sir Thomas sat up straight. ‘You do not mind?’

  ‘Not at all. Why should I? She is a delightful young lady.’

  ‘You did not … er … ah….’ Sir Thomas cleared his throat. ‘You did not rather like her yourself?’

  Greg threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, I like Lizzie, very much. She is a pearl. And she is the sister of a good friend of mine. In fact, I see her as a sister already. So….’ He raised both hands in a fatalistic gesture.

  ‘Egad, that makes things seem more hopeful,’ said Sir Thomas, brightening. ‘Well, well, I seem to have been somewhat behind events there.’ He looked at Greg through narrowed eyes. ‘It seems to me that both you boys should be thinking of settling down and the sooner the better.’

  Greg could scarcely hide his astonishment. ‘Father, what in the world has provoked this notion? I go away for a few days and you are suddenly full of matrimonial plans for us. Has Grandmama been writing to you
again?’

  Sir Thomas was watching him closely. Under that unwavering gaze, Greg became slightly self-conscious. He turned away to pour more coffee.

  Thought you preferred tea,’ chuckled his father.

  Greg was tired and flustered by his father’s insight and he was not going to discuss this matter any further yet. He took a sip of his drink but suddenly, he just wanted to be alone. He stood up. ‘Excuse me, sir, I think an hour’s sleep will do me more good than this.’ He pushed his cup away.

  ‘Very well. You certainly look as if you have not slept for a week.’ Sir Thomas reached for his newspaper. A thought struck him. ‘Ah, before you do go, I recall that there is an assembly tonight. I would be much obliged to you if you would attend it with Richard.’

  Greg mumbled something and closed the door softly. He found a yawning Preston in his bedchamber, tidying away the discarded travelling clothes.

  ‘Wake me by five o’clock,’ said Greg, pulling off his jacket and cravat and casting them down carelessly, to his valet’s displeasure. ‘No need to look so pained, man. Go and get some sleep yourself. God knows we both need it. And I shall require you to undertake some more gambling again this evening.’ He yawned. ‘Let us see if we can catch Lord Percival cheating.’

  When Preston had gone, Greg threw himself on the bed and laced his hands behind his head. He frowned up at the ceiling. Now he must plan every detail if he was to succeed in his schemes. But he kept seeing a pair of green eyes and a lovely face framed by golden curls, her features pale and strained due to problems she could not resolve. Greg heaved a sigh. If his plan worked – no, not if, when his plan worked – he would be free to do something about that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ‘Pray send your maid away, Miss Davenport. My manservant will escort you home after your visit.’ Mrs Bourne stood in the elegant hallway of her Circus home, smiling at Sarah.

  ‘If you are sure it is no trouble, ma’am. Very well, then, thank you.’ Sarah nodded at Prue, who curtsied and went out through the door that the manservant was holding open for her. Sarah knew that there was plenty to do at home with preparations for the assembly that evening.

  She followed Mrs Bourne into the sitting-room, which overlooked the huge open space in the middle of the Circus. There were sedan chairs crossing it as invalids were brought back after their treatment in the hot bath. Mrs Bourne sat down in a rustle of expensive silken skirts. She smiled again at her visitor.

  ‘It is very good of you to come – and at such short notice. We will take our tea first, then I will bring you upstairs to my sister’s room.’

  ‘I had thought she would be able to sit with you in here,’ commented Sarah. ‘It must be more pleasant for her to have company through the day.’

  The servant came in just then with the tea tray. While Mrs Bourne busied herself with the cups, Sarah glanced round the large and elegantly furnished room. Everything spoke of wealth and good taste. Everything except, in Sarah’s opinion, the sickly scent from the large arrangement of white lilies on a low table by the window.

  Mrs Bourne rose to bring a cup of tea to her guest. ‘Yes, as you were saying,’ she said, ‘Henrietta does remain here when she is able, but some days, unfortunately, she suffers a lot of rheumatic pain and prefers to keep her room.’ She smiled, ‘Is this how you like your tea, Miss Davenport, or would you care for more cream?’

  Sarah accepted her cup and made polite conversation. She wished again that she had not accepted this invitation. Since she had noticed Lizzie’s warm feelings for Richard, which seemed to be reciprocated, her mind was preoccupied with wild hopes alternating with the cold voice of reason warning her that she had no choice. She did not regret refusing to listen to John Keating’s offer. He was an excellent person, but she did not love him and without love, she would never marry.

  With the knowledge of the bleak and empty future that awaited her, she found it hard to take her part in the polite nothings of Mrs Bourne’s chat. She was relieved when that lady stood up and said, as she smoothed her skirts down, ‘Well, Henrietta is probably getting impatient to see you. Let us go up to her chamber.’

  She led the way up the wide staircase and along the landing. Everything was simply but tastefully furnished. The house was very quiet, Sarah noticed. Mrs Bourne went to the last door on the left and tapped on it.

  ‘Sister, may we come in?’ She did not wait for an answer but pushed the door open and stood back for Sarah to go in first. Summoning up a smile, Sarah walked into the bedchamber and stopped short in surprise.

  ‘But there is nobody here—’ she was saying, when she heard the door close softly behind her. She heard the click of the key in the lock. Immediately she ran to the door and seized the handle. She turned it but with no success. She tugged and pushed but the door did not move. Her heart was beating so fast she nearly choked.

  ‘Mrs Bourne,’ she called breathlessly, ‘the door has stuck. Pray let me out.’

  There was no reply. Sarah swallowed down the fear. This must be a mistake. ‘Mrs Bourne,’ she called again, ‘what can you thinking of? Pray let me out.’

  Silence. Sarah thumped on the door with both fists. ‘Let – me – out!’ she shouted. When she stopped pounding on the door, Mrs Bourne’s voice said coldly, ‘It is of no use to do that. There you are and there you stay.’

  ‘How dare you!’ choked Sarah. ‘What is the meaning of this? You cannot keep me here. Where is your sister?’

  ‘There is no sister,’ came the cold reply. ‘And do not think you will be missed. I shall send the servant to say you were persuaded to dine here.’

  ‘But … they will not believe you.’ Her clenched fists still pressed against the door, Sarah felt a cold chill run through her. This had been carefully planned. She must think. It was only on the first floor – perhaps she could escape through the window. She rushed over and flung up the sash. But the land behind the house fell away down the slope. It was by far too long a drop. She looked for a convenient drainpipe, but there was none within reach.

  Could she call for help from someone in a neighbouring house? The buildings nearby were all closed and silent. She looked frantically for an open window or for any person in the gardens below. There was no sign of life anywhere. With a little sob she gave it up and drew her head back into the room to inspect her prison. It was a small, square chamber with no closets or any connecting doors. For furniture, there was a bed, a clothes chest and a rather fragile looking chair.

  Still scarcely able to believe what was happening, she ran back to the door and tried the handle. It did not budge. She paced across the room and back, panting with the effort to keep calm. What could she do to help herself? Another examination of the room showed that it was quite bare. She ran her hand round the walls, feeling in vain for a concealed door. Even the bed was not made up. There was just a Holland sheet spread across it.

  She turned swiftly to the clothes chest, pulling open the drawers and the cupboard section. All completely bare! Sarah gave a sigh of disappointment. She glanced at the spindle legged chair and turned back to look out of the window again.

  No, it was really much too far above the ground. There was no hope of escaping that way. What a fool she was! This was Lord Percival’s house. The lilies should have been warning enough. So Mrs Bourne was in league with him. He was obviously prepared to go to any lengths to get her in his power. But there was no way she would submit to his evil plans without putting up a fight.

  And even if in Milsom Street they believed she had stayed with Mrs Bourne for dinner, they would certainly come looking for her before too long. She glanced over her shoulder at the chair. How rickety was it? She crossed the room again and gave the chair a shake. It was not at all solid. She knelt down and set to work to loosen one of the legs.

  Greg strolled into the Assembly Rooms in company with Richard. His lean face was stern, causing Richard to glance at him once or twice and finally to ask him outright what was wrong.

 
; ‘Nothing is wrong,’ said Greg, schooling his features into a bland look, ‘allow me to feel a mite fatigued still.’ He raised an eyebrow at Richard’s look of incredulity. ‘If I do appear somewhat preoccupied, it is with the prospect of dancing the night through. Really, Brother, you have been zealous in promising Miss Keating that you would find her a partner for every dance.’

  Richard grinned his lopsided grin. ‘Always ready to help the ladies,’ he said. ‘Besides, when I realized I was getting better, I swore I would take every opportunity to enjoy life.’

  Greg shot him a piercing look. Richard stopped abruptly. ‘Gad, you look just like our father. But, seriously, old fellow, I made a few decisions during those days when I was lying there with my insides on fire.’

  Greg gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulders. ‘Does one of those decisions involve Lizzie?’

  Richard’s mouth dropped open. ‘How could you guess that?’

  ‘I am your brother and I was not born yesterday. And I can see that Lizzie likes you a lot.’

  Richard heaved a huge sigh and gave his brother a shy smile. ‘I certainly hope she does. I mean to talk to her before I leave for London.’

  Greg raised his brows. ‘You are not wasting any time then.’

  ‘That is what I mean, old man. If you want something, what is the point in waiting?’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Greg. His eyes glinted as he gave Richard an assessing look. ‘It seems my little brother is growing up fast.’

  Richard looked as if he would like to retaliate but Greg was distracted by the sight of a pair of dandies on their languid way to the card room. Richard followed his gaze.

  ‘Gad! Is that the infamous Lord Percival? He and his friend make a showy pair.’

  Greg silenced him with a movement of his hand. ‘Brother, I regret that I cannot join you in the ballroom at present. Perhaps later.’ He moved towards the card room but remembered something and came back. ‘Will you check that James Davenport is safely in the ballroom and try to keep him there?’