He drew himself up quickly when he saw two men in the room, the passengers who had just disembarked from the mail coach.
He stopped and stared. The maid caught his eye and smiled at him.
He stepped out of the doorway and whispered urgently, "I say, where is the lady who was in this room?"
"Left first thing this morning, so she did."
Blake could hardly breathe. "Left!"
"Aye, she headed off with the apothecary, Mr. Samuels. They both needed to get off to London for Christmas. They're riding post down there."
Blake stomach felt as though it had lurched down to his boots. Perdition take it! Belle was gone!
He dithered for a moment on the landing, and then ran downstairs.
But the London coach had already departed. In any case there had been no room for him. He had seen how full it was. Even if there had been, it would never have caught up with Mr. Samuels if he had at least a six-hour head start and was riding post. Of all the wretched luck! How on earth was he going to find Belle now?
He went back up to James' and Mr. Greengage's room, and asked how they felt. Trying to restrain himself, he turned the conversation to the little they knew about Mr. Samuels or Belle. He learned that Belle's brother lived in London, a short cab ride away from the coach depot. She was called Neville. Decent class obviously, from her clothes and manners. But nothing else.
Well, it wasn't a lot, but better than nothing.
Mr. Samuels he had better luck with. He was from Bristol. Blake was heading to Bath for a few days, and could go to Bristol from there.
But there was no way of knowing how long the apothecary would be away, so that he could help track down Belle by telling him where he had dropped her off in London. Still, the information would prove useful eventually.
Blake returned to his own room, where he checked John's condition. There was no way of knowing when he was going to be well enough to travel, let alone resume his duties. He would have to try to find a replacement driver, go see his friend Michael in Bath and spend a few days cheering him, and travel back to London. At this rate he would be away for at least a week. The thought of having to wait that long to see Belle again was almost too much to bear.
"John, would you mind awfully if I left you here to rest and got the mail coach to Bath? I shall come back with a new driver in a few days to help get us home."
"No, sir, I understand. If you could just leave word for the local doctor to look in on me?"
"I will, surely. My comrade Edgar is not far away. I'll send a note."
"Thank you, sir."
Blake's frustration knew no bounds when the coach arrived at two o'clock and was completely full. "Everyone travelling home for the holidays, don't you know," the driver said by way of apology.
Blake was ringing his hands in despair when a small sandy-haired chap in the middle of the backwards seat spoke up. "I'm getting off in another fifteen miles. If you need to get to Bath so urgently, take my seat and I'll see what I can arrange here at the inn."
"My carriage is actually here. If you can get a driver to take you-"
At the landlord's assurance that he would find someone to take the little man, Blake snatched his bags out of his room, and ran for the coach just as it was about to depart.
He flung his luggage up onto the rack and squashed into place inside between two portly gentleman. He longed for the softness of Belle by his side in the coach. She had been so peaceful, serene, slender, supple, sensual...
He fell asleep dreaming of her. Though he told himself he had ought to be noble and give her up, the other part of him told him he had never met any woman so exciting and lovely in his life, and might never ever meet one again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Arabella's trip to London proved to be an exercise in futility, for when she arrived at her brother's lodgings two nights after her hasty departure from Rede Village, his kind landlady told her that Peter had shipped out several days before.
"He paid the rent until the end of the month, though, so you're welcome to stay here. Pity to be on your own for Christmas, but there's no help for it now," the plump gray-haired woman said with a pitying smile.
Arabella then went to the offices of Mr. Brown, the solictor in charge of all Peter's affairs, but everything was shut up for the holiday. They would not be back in until the day after Boxing Day.
She sighed. Well, she was in London, had money. She just had no chaperone. It wasn't fair, but there it was. Men were there for protection, companionship. Females were there to make sure she was never on her own. To be a lone female was to face all sort of deprivations, not to mention depravities.
Now that was not fair. The handsome Dr. Sanderson had done nothing wrong. It had been her fault for kissing him. She had invited his attentions. He had done the decent thing, and rejected her.
Belle sat alone in her step-brother's rooms listening to the clock tick, feeling as though she would scream. She couldn't get the handsome man out of her mind.
Her lack of sleep soon allowed her to succumb to a head cold. She stayed in bed for the next couple of days feeling wretchedly sorry for herself, until she realized she really had very little choice in the matter but to get out of bed. The rent would run out shortly and she had few clothes with her. Things were probably in an uproar back in Somerset with her main servants ill or injured. It would be foolhardy to have come all the way up to London without having met Mr. and Mrs. Pinch or whomever her new guardians were to be.
Thus on an inclement morning, the twenty-eighth of the month, she presented herself at Mr. Brown's chambers again. She was told he was still away, and would be until after the New Year.
"Neville? I don't know any case for Neville," the clerk said.
He leafed through all the papers, and asked, "Not under another name, Miss, is it?"
"Sorry. It must be filed under Davison. My step-brother Peter Davison, or my step-father Jonas?"
"Here it is," he said after a time. "Instructions left by Peter Davison regarding his sister Arabella and her guardianship."
She explained her plight with regard to having to vacate her brother's lodgings by the New Year, and her dilemma as to whether she should return home to Somerset and wait, or to at least meet her new guardians and see what was to be done as long as she had come as far as London.
The clerk, a sprightly elderly man, nodded sympathetically. "All right. I shall help. Normally Mr. Brown would want to take you through everything personally, but as time is of the essence, I shall give you the address."
He pulled out pen and paper as the clock struck three. "A fine guardian. Fine one. Heir to the entire Jerome fortune," he commented as he scribbled down the address.
"Thank you so much for your help."
"Not at all, Miss. I shall put you down in the appointment book for the third of January. You can come see Mr. Brown, and the precise terms will be explained to you by him then."
"Very well, I shall. Goodbye, and Happy New Year."
Since it was far too late in the day to be paying calls, and her nose felt as though it had ballooned from her cold, she returned to her brother's chambers to go over her wardrobe.
She would need to make some repairs in order to present herself at her new guardian's home without seeming like some down-at-heel country bumpkin. If he was as impressive as the clerk had indicated, this Mr. Jerome would be worth troubling to dress for.
She just wondered why Peter had never mentioned him, that she could recall…
She presented herself at the townhouse in Berkeley Square the next day at the stroke of noon dressed as well as she could considering she had brought so little with her.
A tall manservant in a dark suit answered the door. "Master will not be back until the New Year, I'm afraid. In any case this is the wrong entrance."
She blushed, disturbed to think she had been mistaken for a servant when she was clad in her best midnight blue merino gown.
"I'm sorry to trouble you. You don'
t understand. I've been told my by solicitor Mr. Brown that my new guardian lives here. My brother Peter Davison apparently appointed your master as my guardian before he left for India a couple of days ago."
He looked mildly surprised but nodded. "Ah yes, you must be Miss Arabella. I understand now. Please come in. The Master will be back in a few days' time. He's on a trip to Bath to see friends for the Yuletide season."
He led her into a charming parlor decorated in cream and gold which was situated just off the main entryway to the left as she entered the house.
"Pray be seated, Miss. Tea, coffee, chocolate?"
"Tea please. I have a wretched cold."
"We shall send for the locum in that case." He rang the bell and issued his instructions with the aplomb of a military man.
"Oh, no need for so much trouble. ‘Tis a mere sniffle."
He assisted her with her garments, and brought her over a footstool and banked up the fire himself.
"So when will the, um, the master be back?"
"In the New Year. The second or third, I believe."
"And he told you of me?"
"Yes, of course. His ward, Miss Arabella."
"Belle. Everyone calls me Belle."
The butler sniffed. Really, the child was so young and naive. He took it upon himself to instruct her, as he had no doubt his master would have wanted.
"That may be true in the rusticity of er, Somerset, I believe it is, but here you are to be Miss Arabella, and shall have to dress accordingly.
"Master has left most precise instructions. There are also Christmas gifts for you from your brother and the Master upstairs in your room."
He had given her perfectly modest gown the once-over in a most embarrassing manner. She knew it was not very fashionable, but it was at least warm.
The news of presents surprised her even more than the talk of a whole new wardrobe, however. She stopped feeling so alone and homesick.
As the sun shone in the cheery little parlor, she thought she could almost get used to calling this place home.
But then she hadn't seen the rest of the house yet, nor had she met her guardian. A crusty old bachelor, no doubt, about to put her in a nun's habit…
"I am sure the Master has been most thorough with his instructions. And generous with his presents. Er, Mr. Jerome, as I take him to be-"
"He wishes to be addressed as Mr. Blake, except by his business colleagues and associates. But you needn't trouble yourself about that."
"I see. Yes, well, I thank you for fetching me tea and-"
"I shall see what we can do about a chaperone for you."
"Or a maid who can come with me shopping?" she suggested timidly.
He nodded. "Yes, Miss. That would be acceptable. Betsey can go with you. I shall tell her to get her things. And I am Travis, Miss."
"Hello. So please to meet you, Travis."
"And you, Miss," he said politely, clearly thawing towards her.
His new demeanor emboldened her to ask, "May I see my room, the rest of the house, as long as I'm here, if it's not too much trouble?"
"I am sure the Master will want to take you through the rest of the house himself. But I can show you the chamber which has been set aside for you. And it is no trouble at all."
It was a stunning room, with rose and cream flock wallpaper and rich rosewood furniture, including a four-poster bed hung with heavy matching draperies.
"There were bookshelves filled with all sorts of children's books and devotional works, classics, and books on gardening, many of them looking new, their pages uncut.
"Oh my, this is lovely."
"If there is anything you need, you have only to ring."
"Does Mr. Blake keep a carriage here in town?"
He nodded. "A small conveyance for two with a box for the driver is at your disposal at present."
She shook her head. "No, that won't do. I need to move the remaining personal effect from my brother's chambers by the end of the year."
"We can get a cab, and send you along with the servants. Just tell us when."
"Tomorrow morning at ten?"
"Very good, Miss. I shall see to it all is arranged."
She continued to look around the room until he asked, "Will that be all, Miss?"
"Oh, er, yes. I'll ring when I'm ready to go shopping and go back to my step-brother's chambers."
She looked in all the wardrobes and drawers, which were completely empty, then turned her attention back to the table in the center of the room, which was piled with presents.
Most of the tags indicated they were from Peter, but there were four wrapped in gilt paper signed with a large B. She decided to open one of them and save the others.
What she found in the large long flat box took her breath away. It was the most exquisite ladies' leather travelling toilette kit she had ever seen, with a velvet-line compartment for every accoutrement from mirror and brush to sal volatile.
Everything was ornamented with chased silver, and she felt a tear spring to her eye as she looked at the lovely gift.
Deciding her curiosity could not withstand the suspense, and she would be going shopping anyway and needed to know what else she ought to buy, she opened the others. There she found a locket watch beautifully engraved in gold, and an exquisite cameo on a black background.
The final package was a set of the most elegant pearls she had ever seen, ear bobs, several strands of necklaces which could be worn together or separately, a choker, bracelets, a white satin reticule embroidered with seed pearls, and a pair of pearl rings. The jewels were all superb apart from the rings, which were lovely, but so small as to only fit on her tiny pinkies.
Her own brother's gifts were not as inspired, but nevertheless thoughtful. Some jet jewelery, shawls, a fine collection of lace and ribbons, a miniature of himself which he must have commissioned months before he had ever left, and signed, a couple of reticules and a goodly supply of stationery.
A fresh-faced maid poked her head around the door just as she finished inspecting the last of the gifts and putting them away in the dresser drawers.
"I'm Betsey, Miss," she said. "Just making sure all was well."
"I'm ready to go now, thank you."
As she was leaving, Travis handed her a clinking purse. "You are to go to Miss Melisande's. We understand it to be the best in Town. Mr. Blake has set up an account there in your name, Miss Arabella, but if you see anything else you need, by all means get it."
She weighed the purse in her hands. Good Lord, there had to be over fifty pounds-guineas, she amended as she looked inside.
She arrived at the shop with Betsey, and was dazzled instantly by the array of ready-made gowns.
She insisted on buying some of them rather than waiting to have everything custom made for her.
"You will come back to allow us to take your measurements, Miss?" the helpful sales woman asked.
"Yes, I suppose."
"Tomorrow at noon."
She shook her head. "Not possible. The day after, perhaps?"
"Very good."
She bought five practical day gowns in charcoal grey, Turkey red, deep gold with a small black floral pattern throughout and on the hem, a rich russet gown, and a deep sable brown with a cream lace trim.
One evening gown in particular caught her eye, plain white silk with black and silver embroidery, satin ribbons and a long train. The sleeves were elegant sheer puffs which gave the illusion of bare shoulders, and the neckline was square and more daringly revealing than any gown she had ever worn.
It had a high waist and a braided twist to go around it, and a matching gauze capelet which was shot through with silver and black threads and edged with a black fringe. She had her doubts as to when she would ever get to wear something so lovely and elegant, but was determined to have it no matter what it cost.
"An excellent choice. If I may say so, it fits you as though it were made for you."
She smiled at the new Arabella who sta
red back at her from the pier glass. "Yes, it does, doesn't it? Help me off with this. I'll take it."
She found a fine sprigged muslin with sapphire trim, a white sarcenet with rich purple edging, and a white silk with a lilac gauze overgown.
One gown in bronze silk with impressive Brussels lace trim and one in pale blue with a v-neckline and long train completed her choices.
By the time she had run through ribbons, linen, stockings, slippers, garters, and laces, she was exhausted. She went back to the townhouse congratulating herself on the excellent bargains she had made and how everything matched perfectly.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 70
