‘Lord knows what will happen if it doesn’t work,’ Millie said as she nibbled her bottom lip. ‘I can’t help but worry.’
‘Nothing will go wrong; it is planned and plotted to the nth degree.’ Lord, why did Millie have to be so negative? It was bad enough having to second guess herself without other people doing so as well.
‘Hmm.’ Millie still didn’t sound too sure but she didn’t voice any more opinions.
It had to work. Lydia was aware that any plan as complicated as hers was full of pitfalls, but she didn’t know what else to do. Satisfied that it was all now in the hands of the gods… or Rosie Barron and Bessie Davis, the two actresses she had hired to take her and Millie’s place in the chaise from a coaching inn near Epping. Far enough from her parents’ house to make it seem logical that, with such a rapid flight, they’d need to stop, and not too far to make it hard for her to circle around and set out in the proper direction. Hopefully undetected. Once again she went over that strange confrontation in Hatchards. Annoyed that she’d left her books, Millie had arranged for them to be collected while Lydia sought out her papa who said he knew nothing of Jeremy. And as far as he was concerned, Lydia was betrothed, so she’d better accept it.
‘Millie, thank goodness you have the right connections,’ she remarked as the coach moved swiftly through the darkened streets. ‘We will pull it off, you’ll see.’
‘Well, if we don’t, it won’t be for want of trying.’ Millie seemed resigned to their flight. ‘And even if I say so myself, having Bessie and Rosie take our place was a flash of genius on your part. If anyone can do it, it’s them. So how long do we have?’
Lydia leaned forward to look out of the window into the darkness. The moon was partially covered by cloud and the sky seemed leaden and ominous. She recognised the outline of a familiar church silhouetted on the horizon ‘We are making good time. Around half an hour, I think.’ She sat back again and went over the next part of her plan. As the coach drew into the Theydon Oaks Inn yard, she pulled her hood tightly around her head. ‘Show time.’
Millie followed suit and got out to stand by and help her mistress descend.
‘The facilities?’ Lydia asked in a commanding voice. ‘We need to make haste. Then perhaps a room to tidy in.’
The ostlers pointed her towards the outhouses and she and Millie walked swiftly towards them. Luckily, once they rounded the corner of the building, it was, as they had expected, deserted. Most people would be inside and tucked up for the night. Two shapes detached themselves from the wall and met them behind a clump of bushes.
‘Any problems?’ Lydia asked briskly. The wind had a sharpness to it that cut through her clothes and sent sharp pin pricks over her skin.
Rosie Barron, Millie’s cousin, shook her head. Her resemblance to Lydia was uncanny. ‘They think we’ve left already and are heading to Norwich. Not too far from King’s Lynn to make it seem unfeasible, you know.’ Her voice was as cultured as Lydia’s. Not for the first time, Lydia wondered about Rosie’s antecedents. ‘The coach is over yonder behind the oak tree,’ Rosie continued. ‘You can trust the men. Friends and relatives of mine and Mills here. Now you two get on and let us be your false trail. It’s as good as Drury Lane any day.’ The four women switched cloaks swiftly and, with brief but heartfelt words of thanks and encouragement from all four to each other, went their separate ways.
Lydia didn’t even start to relax until they had made themselves comfortable in the new coach and it had left the village to make its circuitous way to the road they needed.
‘Well, that’s the first bit done; let’s now hope the next goes as well as that,’ she said as Millie found the hot bricks left for them and put one under Lydia’s feet.
‘There’s some coffee and brandy here,’ Millie said with satisfaction. ‘Do you want me to mix them?’
Lydia shook her head. ‘I’ll have the coffee first, even if it’s only lukewarm.’
‘Oh, it’s better than lukewarm. Quite hot even. Our Rosie left it between the bricks.’
‘What a sensible idea.’ Lydia gratefully took the mug held out to her and let the warm liquid slide down her throat, dispersing the chill that had begun to invade her limbs. ‘Do you think it’s about to snow?’
Millie sniffed the air. ‘Bit late in the season, but that’s often worse. Short and sharp like, usually, so fingers crossed, eh? Though I don’t think so, not yet, but it could well do later. The men will tell us in good time.’
Lydia nodded. There was nothing they could do about it anyway. She finished her drink, handed Millie the mug, and curled her toes under her fleece with the brick as close as she could get it without giving herself chilblains. Across from her, Millie stowed their mugs and the now-empty coffee jug and followed suit.
Lulled by the swaying of the well-sprung coach, Lydia shut her eyes and dozed.
Several hours later, the coach lurched over what seemed like half a mile of deeper than normal ruts, which made her open her eyes and lean forward to look out of the window. The sky was lighter in the east and the outline of cottages and a church could easily be seen. Lydia yawned and wondered where they were. It had been decided not to use the main coaching inns, for obvious reasons, and she and Millie intended not to show their faces unless it was absolutely necessary. She shook Millie as more houses appeared. Millie grunted, opened her eyes, and understood immediately. She reached into a basket and handed Lydia a brunette wig, totally unlike her normal hair colour, and donned a red one herself. ‘Cloaks. Here, my lady, put this on so you’re not clemmed. It be awful chilly out.’ Her voice took on the accents of any young village lady from the Midlands as she handed over the sort of garment worn by a middle-class lady and her working-class, village-born maid.
Lydia nodded. She knew she couldn’t manage such a vocal transformation so they had decided she had a cough and a cold to account for a low and raspy voice. She waited until Millie – now Rosie – had checked her wig was firmly in place and then tucked a few stray hairs under the one Lydia wore.
‘There now, we look just as we should. Ready?’
Lydia nodded as the door opened. She hacked into an ordinary plain handkerchief – Rosie had thought of everything – and watched the innkeeper recoil a little.
‘My mistress has a cough and a cold,’ Millie said. ‘Perhaps you have a parlour and something warm to help? We need to get on as it is thought her papa hasn’t long for this world.’ The man nodded and stood back to let them alight.
‘There’s mushroom soup and a pigeon pie, the missus made last night. I’ll have them to you in a trice. And we’ll get those bricks warm again while the horses are changed.’
‘Perfect,’ Lydia said huskily. ‘Lead on.’ If she didn’t get warm there would be no need to playact.
****
Harry was woken from an erotic dream about Lydia by a hammering on his front door that went on and on and was followed by the tread of heavy feet up the stairs. As he hadn’t got to bed until well after six – he’d won a steady fortune from several of his cronies and declined to say who, if anyone, had won the wagers in the book – eleven in the morning was the middle of the night.
Who on earth could be calling at this hour? He pulled the covers over his head. Whoever it was could go and visit Hades, not him.
‘I’ll let myself in.’
Harry recognised that voice and sighed as he moved the covers down to his neck. ‘Lord, Edward, what do you want?’ He opened one eye, took a swift look at Edward’s stormy features, and shut it again.
‘You, strung up by your balls according to my wife. Darn it, Harry, what the hell is going on?’
‘Eh?’ Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘I won last night, drank too much, and have a headache.’
‘You’ll have more than that if Esther gets hold of you.’
Blacksmith’s hammers invaded Harry’s head and pounded on his skull. ‘Don’t bellow, for the lord’s sake. I’m a little fragile. That’s what winning several thousand doe
s to one. What’s Esther got to do with anything?’
‘Lord, Harry, have you heard anything I’ve said? Lydia has disappeared. Esther blames you for hounding her and insists you find her, grovel, and bring her back. As the strained, not to say icy, atmosphere in our house is far too uncomfortable for a mere male, I suggest you do something forthwith. Or it won’t just be Esther cutting your balls off. I’ll hold you down for her. I wish you joy of a betrothal and no wife-to-be anywhere in the vicinity.’ He dropped the news-sheets onto Harry’s head, and they slid from his nose to the bed. ‘The announcement is in The Times.’
Harry nodded and wished he hadn’t. That had been agreed on – reluctantly on Lydia’s part, excitedly on her mama’s – before he’d left her parents house. ‘Why is Esther annoyed about that?’ Harry said as he rubbed his hand over his early morning beard. ‘I thought that would please her.’
‘Not when it caused Lydia to run away. Now I have my wife wishing to unman you because her best friend has disappeared, and if you value your balls, and mine, you’ll go and find her, be nice, and bring her back.’
‘Eh?’ All thoughts of sleep left Harry. ‘She’s what?’ He swung his legs out of bed, pleased to note the room wasn’t swinging with them. ‘Ring for some washing water and coffee, there’s a good chap.’ He pulled on a grey-striped banyan and picked up the paper from where it had ended.
‘She’s not here. She is somewhere else.’
‘Well, where is she? In the park with Esther?’
Edward shook his head. ‘Go and put your head under the pump or something. The park would be too simple. Esther is at present in your sitting room thinking up ways to castrate you slowly. I’ve been trying to tell you, but your self-induced lack of brain is having a hard time processing it. Lydia seems to have vanished.’
Vanished? ‘Oh lord, she’s not run off to wherever, has she?’ She never had explained exactly where she intended to relocate to. Devon wasn’t that large but there were enough places there for it to take him a while to discover her whereabouts.
Edward shrugged. ‘So it seems, but not to Devon, which is where we – that is, her friends – originally thought. Even though I have it on good authority from my beloved, Lydia said no such thing. Lord, women are complicated. I would have sworn she said Devon, but evidently not.’
‘No? Grief, then where the hell to?’ Harry downed the contents of his mug, and gasped as his throat burned. Stupidity wasn’t going to help anyone or anything. He picked up his water glass and sipped the cool liquid gratefully. ‘Do we have any clues?’
‘According to gossip among the staff, the coachman was instructed to drive her to King’s Lynn. As my beloved wife looked shifty when she heard that news, there might be some truth in it,’ Edward said slowly. ‘However – you know Esther. Tight as a duck’s arse when she needs to be. I wish you joy of confirming it one way or another. But Norfolk it seems it is.’
‘Norfolk?’ Who on earth went there? Flat, damp, inhospitable place it was. Harry conveniently forgot all the comfortable house parties and shooting forays he’d attended in the vicinity and thought nasty thoughts about the place. ‘What the devil for?’
‘That we do not know,’ Edward said slowly. ‘Not yet.’
‘I’ll find out somehow. Where in King’s Lynn?’ Harry pulled on his boots and tied a reasonable knot in his cravat, considering the mood he was in. ‘Do you have directions? Damnation, where is my signet?’ He spied it on the dresser and put it on his finger. ‘That’s better, I feel naked without it. So this place Lydia has gone to, where is it?’
‘Lord knows.’ Edward shrugged. ‘You’ll need to go to the Fields and find out from them.’
Harry stared at his friend. ‘Or ask your wife, who I’m sure will know more than you or they do.’
Edward shrugged again. ‘You can try, but I’m not promising anything. Nor will I conspire with you against her. I value my gonads and love my life as it is.’
‘I’ll allow you that, but not even when I tell Esther how much I love Lydia? For I do, you know.’ Having admitted it out loud, Harry experienced such a sense of relief, he grinned.’ I may have fought the feeling, and even tried to deny it, but to no avail. Thankfully. I love her.’
‘Good, but even so, I wouldn’t guarantee you’ll get what you need, not even then. You know Esther. Loyalty is her middle name’
Harry was to remember that later.
‘I’ll speak to your wife.’ Who, Harry was convinced, knew more than she let on.
****
‘Esther, for the love of God, just tell me. Why bloody… sorry…’ Esther had glared at Harry and covered her ears as he blasphemed. Which was a travesty as he’d heard her on occasion cussing with the best of them. However, it seemed, this time, he needed to watch his words. ‘Why Norfolk?’ he asked more temperately. ‘I thought Lydia’s house was in Devon. She talked of going there.’
He’d gone to Esther after a tricky meeting with the Fields, who had, he thought, been genuinely upset that Lydia had gone without telling them, merely leaving a note saying that, as she was now six-and-twenty, she’d carried out her plan and would be in contact later. The fact they thought she would have gone to Devon was something else to worry about. Now he had to decide how to persuade Esther it was in Lydia’s best interests to let him find her and talk to her. He promised to return to the Fields when he had firmed up his plans.
Esther stared at him blankly, her hands folded in her rose-velvet-covered lap. Her eyes sparkled with emotion, and Harry would have hazarded a guess it was not a positive feeling. Unless killing him slowly counted as positive.
‘Esther, you do not have to believe me, but I wish you would.’ Harry tried again. ‘Or at least listen to me, and then make your mind up. Firstly, I did not say anything about any of this, to anyone. We knew the notice would be in The Times and I was to meet her today to be with her when all the hoo-haa started. I spent all last night refusing to comment on anything. Hence a heavy head and a mouth like a badger’s… ahem….’
‘Yes, all right, I know what you mean,’ Esther said hastily. ‘But what has that got to do with anything you want me to share?’
‘A lot. I refused to comment. Secondly, the gossip among the servants is that they are headed towards King’s Lynn. Thirdly, Lydia told me her house was in Devon, just not where. Fourthly, I love her.’
‘Not hard to say.’ But Esther looked somewhat happier. ‘If you mean it. And she never said Devon.’
Oh yes, she did. Who is trying to fool whom?
‘So tell me again,’ Esther demanded. ‘How you feel. After all, it’s just easy words.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Harry corrected her patiently. ‘It’s darned difficult. I have never uttered those words to anyone else.’
‘Not even…’ Esther stuttered and put her hands over her face.
Edward chuckled. ‘My love, careful.’ She threw a cushion at him, which Edward caught with ease.
Harry took pity on her. ‘No, not even,’ he said solemnly. ‘Tell me what you know. Please. If for nothing else, so I have a head start on her parents.’
‘Oh, lord.’ Esther sighed and looked towards her husband. ‘I hate being in a quandary.’
Edward shrugged and held his hand up in the air. ‘For what it is worth, my love, I believe him implicitly. Whether you choose to or not is your decision.’
‘Hmm.’ She nibbled her lips for what seemed hours but was no more than a couple of seconds. ‘I had a private missive from her. Private,’ she stressed. ‘So this goes against all I hold dear.’
It was strange, Harry decided, that she didn’t look him or her husband in the eye. Mind you, if she was about to break a confidence, perhaps she felt guilt?
‘Please, Esther. I need to sort this out.’ He’d never heard such a pleading tone in his voice before. It was unnerving to say the least.
‘Not by hassling her or forcing her to do anything against her will?’ Esther said suspiciously.
‘No, I
promise,’ Harry said sincerely. ‘I told her I would happily be the scapegoat if one is needed.’
‘Very well. But beware, if you do anything, anything at all, to make me regret this, you will wish you hadn’t. I can, if necessary, have a long and vindictive memory.’
‘I believe you, Esther,’ Harry said fervently. ‘Plus, I realise you have Lydia’s best interests at heart. So do I.’
‘You know, I think you do,’ Ester said slowly. ‘Very well. I think she is probably on her way to Aunt Caroline until her own house is ready. Something to do with it being empty for so long and dampness to sort out.’
‘Aunt Caroline?’ Edward said, horrified. ‘As in your Aunt Caroline? That old harridan? I forgot she lived in Norfolk.’
‘She is not a harridan,’ Esther said indignantly, but not very convincingly. ‘She is just forceful.’
‘If you say so, my love.’ Edward did not sound persuaded. ‘Women always have such an innocent view of things.’
‘Edward Cranswick, if you think…’ Esther’s voice rose. ‘I will not…’
‘Look, this is getting us nowhere,’ Harry interjected impatiently. ‘Are you sure, Esther?’
Esther nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. ‘So she said in her note. Aunt has invited her many a time, and now she has agreed to take her up on her offer.’
‘Do you have the note?’ Harry asked evenly. What was Esther hiding? Lord, why was everything so damned complicated? ‘May I see it?’
She stared at him mulishly. ‘I do, but I am not going to show it to you. Take my word as to the contents or not. It is for you to decide.’
It was a beginning. Even if something seemed amiss he had to start somewhere.
The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia Page 16
