“I have my own curricle here, Talbot,” the doctor announced, stepping up beside him. “I shall follow the cart.”
“Thank you,” Talbot replied. “I appreciate your assistance.”
“No trouble, Talbot. None at all.”
“Talbot?” Ludlow asked, having relinquished the man to other arms to be loaded onto the hay cart. “Anything else I can do?”
“No, nothing. Thank you, Ludlow.”
“I would think about calling in the Runners, Tony. No, do not glower at me. I am not witless. Two obviously low-class personages appear in possession of the Rutlidge's horse. Either they intended to sell him, or they were on their way to Rutlidge House with him. Either way, I am capable of concluding that something very odd has occurred. Is Rutlidge safely at home?”
Tony frowned. “No,” he answered finally. “Been searching for him since early this morning, but I don't want it all over town.”
“Call in the Bow Street Runners,” Ludlow repeated, nodding. “They will know how to handle that bloke. And they will be able to find the other one. Do not worry, if Tony. I'll not gossip about it. But your brother is kidnapped, which, I am sorry to say, it appears he may be, you’ll need help. You will call upon me should you find it necessary. I insist.”
“Of course you do. You have my direction. It has not changed since last year. I will take my leave of you then.” Mr. Ludlow clasped Tony's hand in his own, shook it, and departed. Tony strolled hurriedly toward Miss Mapleton and Mouse.
“PA, Pa, lookit!” Jesse shouted, bursting in through the kitchen doorway, his freckled face wreathed in smiles. He extended his grimy palm toward his father’s nose. “Cartwheels, Pa! Five of ’em! An’ Geordie 's got more, don’t yem Geord?”
The earl, his lopsided grin engaging Bear’s questioning look as he followed Jesse into the room, nodded. He dug down into the pocket of his breeches and produced ten more of the shining gold coins. Crossing the room, he took Bear's palm and dumped the money into it. Bear stared down at the gold, both bushy eyebrows rising astonishment. “But where'd ye git 'em? Jesse? Geordie? Where'd these here cartwheels come from, eh? Ye didn't take 'em fer holdin' no gents’ ’orses. They'd not ’ave given ye so much. Why, there be more'n fifteen pound here.”
“We was holdin' th'gents ’orses, Pa—Geordie kin hold four of 'em at once! He can! An' down th'middle o' th'street comes old Mr. Grunby's carriage, the ’orses all arunnin' wild like, an' Mrs. Grunby an' Miss Grunby ascreamin' an' ayellin' from inside like some demons was achasin' of ’em, an' a pack o' dogs agrowlin' an' anippin' aroun' th'team. Oh, it were a sight, Pa! An' there weren't no driver a drivin' o’ ’em. Jist runnin' they was, loose like. An' Geordie, ’e jumped up on one o' th'gent's ’orses an' e stopped th' carriage afore it even got to Hurley Square. Oh, it was m'nificent, Pa! Ye shoulda seen ’im. I ain't never seen nobody could ride li' that. An' e jus' slid offa th' orse ’e was on and onta one a them coach ’orses, an' bang! They was stopped! He sent th' dogs off too. He did! Told ’em to shove off, an' off they went jus' as nice as ye please.”
Bear shook his head, a smile mounting to his eyes at the uninhibited excitement in Jesse's voice
“An' Mr. Grunby an' ’is coachman come arunnin' down th' street, apuffin' and ayellin'. An' when they seen Geordie stop th' coach, Mr. Grunby, he yells, 'Young man, young man, don' ye be goin' off. Ye wait right where ye be. Ye wait fer me!' Only Geordie, he had ta go git the ’orses what b'longed to th'gents. On accounta we couldn’t lose ’em, ye know. So Mr. Grunby, he asked me was Geordie me brother. An' I said ’e was, Pa. I know I shoulnd’t a, but I couldn’t help it ’cause… ’cause I was so proud a th’way ’e rode, I wanted ’im ta be. An’ Mr. Grunby, he give me ever’thin’ he had in ’is pocket. Ten cartwheels, Pa! An’ ’e said ta be sure an’ see me brother got ’em.”
“Well,” grinned Bear. “Well!”
“An’ that ain’t all, Pa. Two o’ th’gents whose ’orses we was a holdin' of, they was a watchin' out o' one a th'windows, an' when they come down, they said they seen what happened, an' it was a better show than Astley's. I don' know what that is, Pa, but Geordie was better ’n it. An' by th'time Geordie got hisself all four a th' ’orses back, they'd told th'other blokes about it, an' all five of 'em, Pa—all five—give us a cartwheel!”
“I'll be deuced,” laughed Bear. “Enjoyed the show, did they?”
“I guess!” crowed Jesse. “It was th'best thin' ever!”
“Well, but, Geordie,” Bear said, holding the cartwheels out toward the earl. “These be yers, lad. Ye earned ’em.”
Geordan shook his head, his eyes as dark blue as a midnight sky glowing proudly up at the big man. “It's f-for you, B-Bear.”
Bear was about to protest, but the look in the earl's eyes was so proud and self-satisfied that he found he could not bring himself to do so. “Well, it's right proud I am to accept it, then,” he heard himself murmur. “And proud of ye as well. Who'd ’ave thought a bantam li' ye ta be so up ta th'mark?”
Obvious elation flashed across the earl's face at his words. “D-Do you know G-Gentleman J-Jackson, Bear?”
“Jackson? Jackson? Well, aye, Geordie. Ain't many a man not witnessed one o’ Jackson's mills. Why, lad?”
“He c-called me that—b-bantam. He knows where I live.”
“Well I'll be deuced,'' murmured Bear. “He does, does ’e?”
“SO I sent the children off to buy us somethin' fer supper,” Bear said, relating the incident to Coffee shortly afterwards.
“Ye don' believe th'lad knows Jackson, do ye, Bear?”
“I cannot see how 'e might. 'Course Jackson ain't always ahangin' about th'gentry, ye know. Might be th'boy's brother met the Gen’leman somewheres. Maybe interduced th'lad to ’im.”
“So mebbe if we was ta take ’im up ta Jackson's gym, th' Gen'leman could git ’im home?”
“Aye, ’tis possible,” Bear admitted, running a hand over his thick beard. “But do ye think, do I show up there, I'm gonna be able ta git inter th'place? Ain't nothin' but swells there these days. Ones what thinks they be too good fer the likes o' us.”
“Worth a try, Bear,” Coffee sighed. “I says ye use some o' that money an' hires a hack, an' takes th'lad up there.”
“Termorrow,” Bear nodded. “Termorrow af’ernoon. Ye comin' along o' us, Coffee?”
“Me? Whoa, wait! Ye cain't go termorrow, Bear. Termorrow be Sunday. Ain't gonna be nobody at th'place on a Sunday.”
“Good,” Bear grinned. “That's a bit o' luck. I reckon 'II keep 'im another day, then.”
“Ye like ’im, don' ye?”
“Aye,” answered Bear. “An' when I set me eyes on tha’ brother o’ ’is, he's goin' ta git a earful 'bout settin’ someone ta look af’er th’lad. Highwayman er no, ’e cain’t be goin’ off ever’ night an’ leavin’ Geordie alone. Bring ’im ’ere, he can. I ain’t opposed to't. Other children'd be glad to have ’im.”
TONY paced the back drawing room at Rutlidge House impatiently. His hands clasped behind his back, his Hessians stalking across the Persian carpet, his head bowed, he could not settle down. “What in the deuce is taking so long?” he mumbled.
“I imagine the gentleman requires a bit more attention than one would receive for a cut finger or an aching head,” Amelia offered, sipping from a glass of ratafia which Simpson had thoughtfully provided her. “Come sit down, Mr. Talbot. It is like to be a while yet.” She patted the seat on the settee next to her invitingly.
Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure you would not be put off by my sitting next to you, Miss Mapleton?”
“Why, Mr. Talbot? Oh, you mean because of how odious you were and what a tyrant I thought you. But I do not think that any longer. I do think you had best stop pacing so, however, for it does no good, and you will wear a path in this beautiful carpet.”
“It occurs to me, Miss Mapleton,” Mr. Talbot said, going to sit beside her, “that we should not be sitting here alone together, without the least bit o
f chaperonage. Does it also occur to you?”
“No,” replied Amelia with a toss of her curls, “of course not. I am certainly not leaving until we discover Geordan's whereabouts from that person upstairs, and it was my father sent us out together in the first place.”
Talbot smiled the smile that lit his eyes, and she returned a similar one. “I must admit,” he said softly, “that I would have given anything to see you drive my chestnuts through that crowd and up onto the verge. And William is amazed by the way you handled Mouse. You are an exceptional woman, Miss Mapleton. But I fear your reputation has been totally destroyed.”
“I am certain it must be in shreds,” Amelia laughed. “Why do you look so stern, Mr. Talbot? Goodness, if one cannot assist where one is needed because of propriety, then the world must be a sad place indeed. Besides I could see that the gentlemen were not about to take on Mouse in the middle of his tantrum, and William came very close to landing upon the cobbles himself.”
“So he told me. Does your father, Miss Mapleton, know how you flout the rules of society?”
“I do not flout them! But I know he would have thought me a very poor-spirited puss if I had not proceeded as I did.”
Simpson, who had very properly remained silent in the doorway until Miss Mapleton had finished speaking, announced with a grim significance that Dr. Weldon had completed his work with the personage Mr. Tony had ensconced in the small bedroom, and that the doctor suggested that Mr. Tony might wish to speak to that personage now, since he appeared to have regained his senses. Mr. Talbot rose immediately. Miss Mapleton rose as well.
“You are not to accompany me, Miss Mapleton, into this person's presence.”
“No, certainly not. I shall wait in the hall and you shall leave the door open so that I can hear what he has to say.”
Talbot shook his head laughing in exasperation, offered the young lady his arm, and escorted her to the second floor.
Copeland lay with his shirt off on the little feather bed that had been Tony's when he was young. His face had paled to a whiteness greater than the sheet upon which he rested. The man's pain was extremely obvious, and Dr. Weldon stood over him, hands on hips, in an attitude of perplexity. “Mr. Talbot,” he nodded at Tony's entrance, “I have done what I could. He is now perfectly capable of answering your questions. But if you do not protest, I will stay, for I wish to keep an eye on him a bit longer.”
Tony stared down at the confused and suffering Copeland with an expression that threatened the patient even more pain should he in any way disappoint his inquisitor. Copeland understood the expression.
“I, I ain’t done nothin', guvnor. Found th’ ’orse we did, runnin’ loose. Figgered ta sell ’im is all, bein' there weren’t no one aroun’ claimin’ ta own th’beast.”
“He was saddled when you found him, was he not?”
“Aye, govnor,” agreed Copeland, shrinking from the gaze in those brooding and seemingly sadistic eyes. “Saddled ’e were.”
“What happened to the saddle?”
“Why, why, I give it to Cap’n Sutter, I did. Ta sell. On accounta tha’ devil done broke up the Cap’n’s stables and bit three o’ his grooms, and near ta drove all t’other ’orses there mad. Lucky we was he settled for tha’ saddle.”
“Where did you find the horse.
“In t'alley, guvnor.”
“What alley?'
“Plumley Alley in Puddin' Lane. There weren't no blokes achasin' o' it, guvnor. We figgered it be fair game.”
“What is your name?” Tony asked, stuffing his trembling hands deep into his pockets.
“Copeland, guvnor. Noah Copeland.”
“Now you listen to me very carefully, Mr. Noah Copeland,” Talbot drawled, finding it extraordinarily hard to keep from strangling the man. “I do not for a moment believe that you found that horse, much less that your intentions were to sell him.”
“Ye, ye don’t?”
“I believe you know very well that that horse belongs to the Earl of Rutlidge, and that you were on your way to this house to convince me by your possession of Mouse that you also possessed my brother. I believe, Mr. Copeland, that you and your absent confederate have kidnapped Lord Rutlidge and hope to ransom him to me. And I will tell you, quite frankly, that if Geordan should come to any harm whatsoever, you, sire, will not live to regret it.”
Copeland's mouth dropped open, the colour which had begun to return to his face draining away again. “N-No, guvnor, ye got it wrong! I swear there weren’t nobody wi’ th’animal. I ain’t kidnapped nobody, nobody! I don’t know nothing about no earl!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
NORTHAMPTON anxiously entered Tony's study shortly after Miss Mapleton's brother, Kit, had collected that young lady from Rutlidge House. “He ain’t been near Westerley, Tony. And not a sign of him along the road. I stopped at every cottage, tavern and stable along th4e way. Ain't nobody seen him. Your mother, by the way, is packed and ready to leave for London tomorrow.”
“You did not mention that Geordie—”
“Oh, give me credit for some sense, Talbot. Of course I did not say a word to her about Geordie's being missing. I simply said I had had business nearby and stopped to visit with Rutlidge for a bit. I pretended not to know he had come to London at all. Any news here?” Northampton gratefully accepted a glass of sherry from Simpson's hand and settled himself into a chair, stretching his legs out before him.
“We have recovered Mouse, Robert. And your Uncle Max has convinced me to turn the man who had him over to the Runners, though I doubt Bow Street will get anything more out of him.”
Northampton swallowed a sip of sherry and stared at the toes of his Hessians. “You think this man kidnapped Geord? That he has partners somewhere waiting to hit you up for a ransom?”
“I don't know,” Talbot answered, “but I cannot conceive how a man coming so close to death could go on lying, Robert.”
“Death? What? Mouse almost did him in?”
“Oh, Mouse had a good shot at him, but it was I almost did him in. If your Uncle Max had not come running up the stairs at Doctor Weldon’s call, the blasted cove’d be in his grave by now. I could not keep my hands from his neck,” Talbot confessed with a slight shake of his head. “I don’t quite understand it, Robert, but I felt a real need to strangle the truth out of the man. And still he does not admit to knowing a thing at all about Geord.”
“Perhaps he don’t, Tony. Did he say how he came by Mouse?”
“Found him in Plumley Alley, Puddin’ Lane.”
“Puddin’ Lane? What the devil would have taken Geordan anywhere near Puddin’ Lane? There ain’t nothing there he might have wanted to see—no engines, nor zoos, nor statues. Scum is all that one can find in that part of town.”
“Puddin’ Lane? In the East End?” Lord Bristol’s voice entered the conversation as that gentleman entered the room. “Told Simpson not to bother announcing me,” he told Tony. “Man’s in a state. You’d think it was his fault Rutlidge is missing.”
“No luck?” Northampton asked, as Bristol tucked himself into another chair.
“So sign of ’im. What’s this about Puddin’ Lane, Tony?”
Mr. Talbot’s head came up to glance at Bristol, but it was Northampton who explained about Mouse.
“Well, but that horse ain’t about to be down in Puddin’ Lane without Rutlidge there as well,” Bristol proclaimed.
“So think we all,” Talbot agreed. “But what good to go riding about the land in the middle of the night, Chet? Which is exactly what it will be by the time we get down there. No, better to wait until morning. If he is kidnapped, ’twill give the blokes time to get a message to me. If he is not…”
SUNDAY morning the sun shone a brilliant red-orange through the soot-laden air of Puddin’ Lane, and the lane’s inhabitants were treated to the most curious invasion of Fancy they could ever have imagined. But, being a naturally close-mouthed group and fearful of what sort of treatment they might receive at t
he hands of these nobs as well, not a one of them chose to speak with any of the men who rode through their streets on horses that bespoke wealth and breeding. Doors closed as families called children in off the streets. Vagrants disappeared from alleyways. The corner taverns, whose doors might secretly open on a Sunday to neighbourhood thirsts, were locked and shuttered. The only person at all willing to answer any questions turned out to be Cap’n Sutter. That man, still angry about the destruction that Mouse had wrought upon his establishment, substantiated Copeland’s story, refused to reveal any knowledge of where Danvers might at present be, and sold Tony back the earl’s saddle for the cost of what he thought it would take to rebuild his stalls and get his hostlers back on the job. By one o’clock, the searchers had ridden every street and alleyway in the Lane, and had come up empty-handed.
“There is no use going on,” Lord Mapleton proclaimed at last, as he, Kit, David, Northampton, Bristol and Talbot gathered at the far end of Westpool Street. “We are getting nowhere at all. If Geordie is here, he is being held inside somewhere, and there’s no one willing to admit having had a sight of him. Or,” he added, with a worried glance at Talbot, “they know we have discovered Mouse and have taken Rutlidge elsewhere.”
“So were are simply to give up?” Talbot asked with a frown.
“No, not at all, Tony. It is just that this is obviously not the way to go about it. But there are other ways.”
“What kind of ways?” Kit asked innocently.
Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1) Page 16
