by Nina Mason
“Has something caught your eye?”
“No,” she said, still looking at the items in the window. “But this seems just the sort of establishment where the younger Miss Bennets would shop.” Turning to him with a smile, she added, “Might I persuade you to accompany me inside for a look around?”
He agreed without hesitation, and in they went. The shop smelled strongly, almost cloyingly, of an inharmonious blend of perfumes. Behind the counters, which ran the length of the shop, floor-to-ceiling shelves displayed bolts of fabric and an assortment of smaller items in rolls and boxes.
There were several customers within—all of them well-dressed ladies. As Theo searched among them for Louisa’s sisters, Winnie leaned in and whispered, “There they are, in the back, trying on bonnets.”
Theo took a few moments to size up his quarry. They were pretty enough, he supposed, with their youthful complexions, dark ringlet curls, and lively expressions. In no way, however, did they compare in beauty to their eldest sister. Then again, in his eyes, no one could compete with Louisa in loveliness.
The taller and thinner of her sisters wore a simple muslin day dress with a lace fichu. The shorter and more voluptuous one donned a pink frock with fussy trimmings. Her low neckline displayed more décolletage than was decent for a daylight outing, but he enjoyed the view all the same.
“I think I should pretend to be shopping for a bonnet,” Winnie suggested. “Then, I shall pretend to have only just noticed them and strike up a conversation. When the time seems right, I’ll signal you to come over. If nothing else, how they respond to meeting you unexpectedly might help us determine how much they know.”
He agreed to the plan, impressed once again by his sister’s shrewdness. As they leisurely made their way to the back of the shop, he could hear the Bennet sisters whispering and giggling. When at last Winnie approached the pair, they greeted her with enthusiasm. Their delight increased exponentially when she introduced them to him.
Slipping on his most charming manners, Theo said with a smile, “What a pleasure it is to make the acquaintance of two such lovely young ladies.”
They blushed and tittered between themselves before the buxom one said, “The feeling is more than mutual, Captain.”
Looking up at him from under fluttering eyelashes, Miss Charlotte Bennet held out her hand. As he bent over her glove, which smelled strongly of violets, his gaze landed unintentionally on her unabashed display of cleavage. He got the distinct impression she was flirting with him, suggesting that she was either a habitual cock-tease, knew nothing of his attachment to her sister, or cared not a whit about anyone but herself.
Or might all three apply in this case?
Eager to get on, he asked, “How does your sister Louisa do?”
Miss Henrietta Bennet, who seemed more shy and sensible than did her sibling, spoke this time. “She is well, insofar as we know—apart from a few bruises and welts.”
Theo’s chest caught fire beneath his waistcoat. “God in Heaven! Did she meet with an accident of some sort?”
“No, Captain,” Miss Charlotte volunteered with a smile he found most unsuitable. “She met with one of our father’s birch rods.”
The inner storm her words unleashed caused Theo to tighten his grip on the ivory handle of his cane. “For what reason was she punished?”
“Come, come, Captain.” Miss Charlotte wore a mischievous grin. “For you surely know better than I.”
Offended by her insinuation, Theo regarded the chit reprovingly. “What makes you think I would know aught about it?”
Miss Charlotte smirked. “What other conclusion am I to draw when he beat her almost as soon as she returned from her visit to you?”
“He beat Georgie, too,” Miss Henrietta interjected. “Just before Louisa got home. And then, he took them both away immediately after supper.”
Winnie was right about this pair. They did indeed have loose tongues, a fault he intended to exploit for all it was worth. “Where did he take them?”
“Think not of our sisters, Captain.” Miss Charlotte gave him another coquettish smile. “For we expect both to be married before we meet them again.”
Two ladies of middling age drew near and began looking through the hats and bonnets, causing Theo to lower his voice and choose his words with more care. “I should still like to know where they have gone.”
Miss Charlotte batted her eyes at him, provoking more offense than interest. “Before I tell you, I should like to ask you something: Are you in love with our sister?”
Hot blood rushed to his face. He threw a glance toward the two shoppers to ascertain if they were eavesdropping. Thankfully, they appeared to be paying no attention to their conversation.
Turning back to Miss Charlotte, he took a few moments to consider his answer. If he told the truth, he would be as indiscreet as was she. If, on the other hand, he denied his feelings for Louisa, it would degrade their relationship along with his honor. Finally, deciding the truth would do less harm than a disavowal, he said sotto voce, “We planned to elope this morning. Does that answer your question?”
“It does,” the girl replied with a twinkle in her eye. “And now I shall tell you not what I know, for that is nothing, but what I suspect. Our father, I’ll wager, has taken Louisa to our aunt’s house to stay until her wedding to Cousin Charles is arranged.”
Disturbed by the reminder, Theo clenched his jaw and compressed his lips. Still, unless her father obtained a special license, the wedding could not take place until the banns were read. That gave him at least three weeks to find her. “And where, pray, does your aunt reside?”
“At our late uncle’s estate,” Miss Henrietta answered. “Midsomer Park in Somerset.”
Seventeen
After dinner, Louisa and Georgie changed into their traveling clothes while their father arranged for the porter to fetch their trunks. Together, they went down to await the coach with the other passengers. There were six of them—three gentlemen and three ladies.
Louisa’s thoughts turned to Theo for the millionth time that day. By now, he would have gone to the meeting spot and found she wasn’t there. What did he do afterward? Go home to sulk?—or head straight to Craven Castle to carry her away with him?
Well, whatever he did, she had no doubt he was as miserable as she was right now.
Beside her, Georgie asked their father: “Why do you not take us to London yourself instead of sending us with the post?”
Louisa wanted to pinch her thoughtless sister hard enough to leave a bruise. Dreadful as being wedged between strangers would be, it could not be half as disagreeable as spending that time trapped in the confines of the chaise with their father.
“Because, my dear,” said he, “I have magisterial duties to attend to this week—not the least of which is swearing out a warrant for the arrest of my eldest daughter’s seducer.”
“Oh no, Papa!” Louisa’s heart was in her throat. “You cannot be thinking of having the Captain arrested.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow in challenge. “Give me one good reason why I should not.”
“I shall give you the best reason,” she riposted. “He did not break the law.”
“That shows how little you know of the laws of rape.”
Outraged by his accusation, Louisa offered an answer she trusted not to indict her. “I know enough to assure you no rape occurred.”
The subject was dropped and, at length, the post-coach arrived. The shield of the imperial arms was emblazoned on the door and four mismatched horses were hitched to the front. To Louisa’s astonishment, there were already trunks strapped to the roof and two ladies seated inside.
A uniformed gent with a pistol in his belt climbed down from the rear seat, dropped the steps, and opened the door. As the same man began to load the luggage, Papa said by way of farewell, “Behave yourselves if you know what is good for you!”
Louisa, shivering, climbed inside. The benches were large enough to accommodate
four in relative comfort. The two ladies already aboard were seated together on the forward-facing seat. Taking the one across, Louisa smiled and said, “Good evening.”
They returned her greeting as Georgie took her place beside her sister. To Louisa’s dismay, two more ladies climbed in, forcing them to squeeze together. Suffocated by the closeness and clash of perfumes, Louisa put the window down to let in some air.
Beside her, Georgie said under her breath, “This is going to be insufferable, I fear.”
“I cannot imagine otherwise,” Louisa whispered in return, “in such tight conditions.”
The woman across from Georgie asked in a Welsh accent, “Have you young ladies never traveled by mail-coach before?”
Louisa smiled at her, despite her misery. “Is our inexperience that obvious?”
When the last of the outside riders were in place, the coach set off, rocking more violently than any equipage Louisa had ridden in hitherto. As it was too cramped and dark to read, she leaned against the window and closed her eyes, imaging she was curled up in Theo’s arms.
How happy she was to be with him again. How happy they both were. What a shame it was only a fantasy.
At length, she dozed off, only to be awakened sometime later by a blasting horn. Bleary-eyed, she peered out the window. The coach was stopping outside a country inn.
She craned her neck to look at her sister, who was trying to look out over her shoulder. “Why are we stopping here?”
“To change horses, I can only presume,” Georgie answered.
“Are we supposed to get out?”
“Only if you have a cramp or need to make water,” the Welch lady offered. “And, if you should, you had best be quick about it, for we shall be off again in a jiffy.”
As it happened, Louisa did need the privy—rather urgently. She climbed out into the cold night air and crossed the courtyard, which was bustling and aclatter with activity. Pulling her cloak around her, she hurried into the inn, located the water closet, and did her business.
She made it back to the coach just as the fresh horses were in place. Scrambling back inside, she took her seat and off they went at break-neck speed. Leaning against the window, she let the wind cool her face. When tears leaked from her eyes, she arranged her hood to cover her face.
After many more miles and many more stops, the coach finally reached its destination—a venerable-looking London coffee-house. Louisa and Georgie bid a hasty farewell to their travel companions before exiting the conveyance. The foggy, lamplit street was teeming with horse, coach, and foot traffic.
“What do we do now?” Georgie asked.
“I have not the slightest inkling.”
Georgie looked crestfallen. “I cannot believe Papa sent us off so little prepared for what to expect.”
“Nor can I.” Louisa took her sister by the arm and pulled her toward the coffee house. “Come on. This might be my only chance to write to Theo.”
At the door, a dark-haired man in an apron greeted them. “Good evening, ladies. How may I be of service?”
“I have two transfers my father purchased in Ludlow,” Louisa explained, “but I know not where they are to or the time of departure.”
He examined the vouchers. “These are for Bath…and the coach is here now, being loaded with the mail.”
“When will it depart?” Louisa asked with alarm.
“Momentarily.”
Louisa’s heart sank. If the coach was setting off so soon, she would have no time for a letter. The landlord pointed out the coach and they made their way over. The outside riders were already aboard, including two ladies wearing cloaks and veiled bonnets to protect their faces from the dust of the road.
When their time came to board, Louisa followed Georgie into the coach with considerably less hope in her heart than had been there in Ludlow. If she could not get word to Theo, how would he ever know where to look for her?
* * * *
Rather than race off to Somerset in a sweat, Theo decided to wait until his head was cooler and his carriage in better shape for travel. Yesterday, on the ride home from their fact-finding mission in the village, one of the rear wheels began to wobble.
Upon closer inspection, it was discovered the hub had come off and the elliptical spring wanted replacing. The local wheelwright was sent for and, by the time the needed part was obtained and installed, it was twilight. Thus, Theo was left with the choice of traveling through the night or postponing his departure until morning. Disinclined to wait, he and Lt. Churchill—who came along to provide companionship, moral support, and back-up—set off for Somerset just after supper.
From the atlas in his library, Theo ascertained that Midsomer Park was in Glastonbury, a carriage ride of roundabout twelve hours—if he made no stops along the way to rest and water the horses. That, of course, was out of the question, as horses needed a break every ten or so miles to replenish their strength and stamina.
Thus, the trip to Aunt Hildegarde’s estate would take above fifteen hours. Not that he minded the distance, for he would readily travel to the ends of the earth to make Louisa his bride. And God help any man who tried to stand in his way, be he cousin or father. He was determined to do whatever he must to take her back, short of committing murder. For he could hardly protect Louisa from her detestable relations if he was in prison awaiting his turn on the gallows.
Over the past three hours, the disappointed bridegroom bared his soul to his friend, who sat opposite with his arms crossed and his long legs stretched out. When Theo’s sad soliloquy drew to a close, Churchill said, “Did I hear you say Miss Georgianna is traveling with her sister?”
“You did indeed,” Theo replied with a scowl, “though why it should matter to you, I cannot fathom. Or have you forgotten you are already engaged?”
Five years ago, when they had only just returned from the war, Churchill made the mistake of proposing to a serving wench in a drunken moment of passion. When he returned to his senses and attempted to break the engagement, the lady threatened to sue him for Breach of Promise.
Gaze fixed on his boots, Churchill said, “Whatever you might think, I have done nothing beyond standing up with the lady at public assemblies, which I consider my social duty.”
“Bollocks,” Theo replied, assuming a posture similar to his friend’s. “You know as well as I that you have given her reason to hope, which is very bad form indeed.”
“I might have shown her a smidgeon more attention than the other ladies in attendance,” Churchill returned defensively, “but I give you my word I have done nothing to raise her expectations. I enjoy her company and she, mine, I presume, and there is an end to our connection. We are friends and nothing more.”
Theo dropped the subject and looked out the window. He felt on edge. They would not reach Glastonbury before seven o’clock in the morning, leaving them at least two hours to kill before good manners permitted them to call at Midsomer Park.
Would Charles be there? As much as Theo longed to cut that snake into pieces, he would prefer to avoid a confrontation that might end in bloodshed, particularly if the blood being spilled was his own. Since losing his leg, he was not as nimble at swordplay as he’d once been.
That, more than anything else, was the reason he left the Royal Navy.
The thought brought to mind more recent events. Less than a week ago, Napoleon Bonaparte, who’d escaped exile, was defeated by the armies commanded by the Duke of Wellington and Prince Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher of Prussia, who, together, commanded the allied forces.
Theo looked at Churchill, who was cleaning his fingernails with an ivory manicure tool, despite the low, undulating light. “Have you heard about the victory at Waterloo?”
The Lieutenant’s head came up, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you serious? We have beaten Little Boney at last?”
“We have indeed.” Theo grinned. “The war is finally over.”
“Has Bonaparte abdicated?”
“He has indeed
, and the allied armies are marching into France as we speak.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Churchill said. “Very glad indeed. For too many British lives have been lost already.”
“I concur…but such is the cost of putting down despots.”
The sentiment might be applied just as accurately to Louisa’s father and cousin. Would he put his life on the line to save her? Of course he would, though he would much rather live on to enjoy the spoils of his victory.
Churchill went back to his nail-cleaning and, as the carriage bounced along the lane, Theo pressed his face against the cold window. Eventually, he dropped off and did not awaken until they reached Glastonbury, where they passed an hour at a quiet tavern before making their way to Midsomer Park.
The house was a stately brick manor with more windows and chimneys than Theo could count in the time it took the team to climb the path from the carriage road to the hilltop mansion. When the landau stopped out front, Theo got out, leaving Churchill to wait.
Determined to rescue Louisa at any cost, he went to the front door and rang the bell. An elderly lady in a cap and apron answered. She eyed him with undisguised suspicion before brusquely asking what he wanted.
Startled by her rudeness, he attempted to formulate a reply. At length, he said, “I have come to call upon Miss Louisa Bennet. Do I have the good fortune of finding her at home this morning?”
“You’ve got the wrong house,” she replied with a face like a ferret. “Midsomer Park is the home of Lady Hillsworth and her son, the Earl of Glastonbury.”
“Yes, I know,” he told the unhelpful servant. “Miss Bennet is Lady Hillsworth’s niece, who I have been given to understand is visiting her at present. Have I been misinformed?”
“It may well be.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “How can it be that you know not if the lady is a guest of this house?”
“I know she is not a guest of this house,” said the woman with obvious irritation. “But my mistress is from home at present.”
“I see.” He pulled on the fingers of his gloves. “May I inquire as to where she can be found?”
