by Carola Dunn
He rose to greet her. No longer overcome by his sister’s death and his startlingly sudden love for Alice, he was a composed and prepossessing young man, though still rather solemn.
“Miss Godric, I apologise for arriving unexpectedly and for my intrusion. Did Alice not tell you I was coming?”
“No, she did not! Have you see her already?”
“I thought it best to come to your first. I do not wish to appear underhand or presuming in any way.”
“Allie has been pining for you, sir, and if you will wait a week or two after meeting, to be sure your feeling are unchanged, I can have no further objection to your marriage.”
Mr. Collingwood expressed his gratitude in suitable but lengthy terms. While he was doing so, Lord Alton was having a far more interesting conversation with a stable boy who had been sitting on his front steps in Hanover Square for several hours, undeterred by the efforts of Harding and three footmen to remove his disreputable person.
“So Oi delivers the missige, loike Oi says, an’ down come the young lidy an’ off up the street in a tearin’ ‘urry, an’ Oi follers ter go back ter work an’ she goes up ter this cove an’ shouts out ‘John Collingwood’ or sumfing an’ gets in the carridge an’ off they goes. An’ Oi knows as it weren’t this Collingwood ‘cos it were Sir Yubert loike Oi said. ‘E keeps ‘is ‘orses at the Phoenix same as you does. She din see ‘is face proper ‘cos ‘e ‘id it. An’ Oi knows it’s ‘er sister you got yer peepers on, not this ‘un, but Oi says ter myself, ‘is lordship’ll want ter know.”
“How right you are, Albert, in every way. Here’s a guinea for you. Now run back to the stables and ask Jerry to saddle Orangepeel and Jettison and meet me here immediately. You can tell your master that it’s my fault you missed your work this afternoon and I shall be extremely annoyed if he beats you for it. Hurry now!”
“Cor, ta, guv. Oi knowed you was a right ‘un, sure ‘nuff!”
Blessing the day Hester had taken in the chimney sweep, Lord Alton brushed aside his butler’s explanation of his difficulty in getting rid of the urchin and raced upstairs, two at a time, with a sense of déja vu. Susan was now the only Godric he had not been called upon to rescue, and he had saved her from the life of a nun. He could only hope that his efforts on Alice’s behalf would prove as successful.
Southwell blenched as he pulled off the muddy, sodden boots over whose shine he had laboured so long, but in a very few minutes his lordship was kitted out in his riding clothes and on his way with his groom back to Paddington.
Hester opened the door to him and was startled to see him so soon returned. One glance at his grim face, and she stood aside to let him in.
“What is it?” she whispered, her hand at her throat.
“Rathwycke has abducted Alice. He has several hours’ start, but I shall ride after him at once. Can you think where he might have taken her?”
“Grace said he took her to a house near Hitchin—no, Hemel Hempstead,” she replied, dry-eyed and steady-voiced. “I will come with you.”
“Out of the question. I must go as fast as I can. Yes, I’m sure Hertfordshire is his destination. It cannot be above five-and-twenty miles to that place of his. I suggest you send James with a note to Lady Bardry saying Alice will spend the night here. I shall bring her straight to you.” He turned to leave, unwilling to waste time on futile words of comfort while there was yet a chance to save her sister from ruin.
“Wait!” she said, opening the parlour door. “If I cannot go with you, there is someone here who should. Do you remember—”
“Collingwood!” How could he forget?
Chapter 18
Mr. Collingwood,” said Hester, still in a voice of unnatural calm, “Alice has been abducted. You must go with Lord Alton to rescue her.”
“If you think him more capable than I . . . !” exploded his lordship savagely.
“David!” She looked at him in surprise. “Of course I do not. There is no one I had rather trust with my sister’s safety than you. But Mr. Collingwood has a right. If you will not take him—”
“A right?” The light of dawning reason crept into his lordship’s eye. He remembered that Albert had said that Alice greeted her abductor as Collingwood, an incomprehensible fact he had dismissed.
“Miss Alice and I are betrothed,” explained the vicar stiffly. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”
To his astonishment, Lord Alton seized his hand and wrung it heartily. Hester was no less taken aback.
“Congratulations, my dear man, I wish you very happy. The situation is that Sir Hubert Rathwycke has run off with your bride-to-be. I have horses outside, and I am sure my groom will be delighted if you choose to accompany me in his stead into Hertfordshire to rescue her.”
“Rathwycke? Was not that monster satisfied with ruining my sister?”
“Grace told you his name?” asked Hester.
“It was in her last letter, the only one I received. I wrote to him of her terrible end and of the fate that must have befallen her child had not you, Miss Godric, and my dearest Alice taken them in.”
Lord Alton’s eyes met Hester’s in a warning look. No need to torment the man with their suspicions that Rathwycke’s actions were in revenge for that revelation. The expression that succeeded the warning on his face made Hester blush and lower her gaze.
“Come,” said his lordship impatiently, “we must be off.” He supposed it was his duty to go to the aid of Collingwood’s betrothed before he swept his own beloved into his arms, but if he had believed that she would be able to spare a thought from her sister’s fate, he would have been very tempted to stay behind.
* * * *
Somehow the bright May afternoon seemed an inappropriate setting for a sinister abduction. Jettison’s strong legs ate the miles swiftly, and if it had not been for his apprehensive companion, matching stride for stride on Orangepeel, he might have burst into song or shouted to the breeze: “Hester loves me!”
After all, if she could read his eyes, now that the mists of misunderstanding were cleared, could he not read hers?
Through Watford they rode without stopping, then halted in Hemel Hempstead to water the horses and ask for directions. Twenty minutes later they were trotting up the drive of a small but pleasant-looking manor house.
“Tie them up,” ordered his lordship as he swung down from Jettison’s back and tossed the reins to the vicar.
Running up the steps, he threw the front door open without the formality of knocking, and entered the hallway. On his right was a closed door, on his left another stood ajar, and from the room within he heard a pleading voice. A masculine voice.
No one had noticed his arrival. He stood for a moment, adjusting his neckcloth and smoothing his hair, while a grin slowly spread over his face as he listened to the conversation. Then he pushed the door open and stepped coolly into a charming drawing room. The two people in it looked up.
“Thank God you’ve come!” ejaculated Sir Hubert Rathwycke.
Alice sprang up from a straight chair by the fireplace and threw herself upon his lordship, bursting into floods of tears. Distastefully, he extricated himself from her embrace and handed her over to Mr. Collingwood, who entered the room at that moment.
“Do take her away, there’s a good fellow,” he urged, pushing them gently through the door. Then he returned to Rathwycke.
“Would you believe she has been doing that every three minutes for the past two hours?” Sir Hubert exclaimed disgustedly. “The wretched girl’s a regular floodgate.”
“You had, I think, no obligation to expose yourself to her tears,” said Lord Alton mildly, sitting down.
“Damme, they don’t generally . . .” He stopped in some confusion as his lordship’s raised eyebrows allowed him to see the icy coldness of the blue eyes beneath.
“Why did you do it?” The ice had entered the voice.
“To get my own back. I suppose you know the story?” Sir Hubert attempted to sound la
nguid, but succeeded only in displaying disgruntlement. “I cannot abide such sanctimonious snobs.”
“So you tried to seduce Miss Alice, and when she did not fall for your wiles, you abducted her.”
“Unsubtle, I agree. My revenge on her sister is much more adroit.”
Lord Alton, who was lounging in an easy chair, straightened imperceptibly, but all he said was, “Yes?”
“You may have met her so-called cousin Florabel Stevens? Haymarket-ware, and moving to Paddington did not change her habits. Though in general discreetly taking her business elsewhere, I do believe that for some time she has been, shall we say, entertaining there on Sunday evenings. Miss Godric’s house is little better than a brothel.”
If he had expected to provoke an outburst, he was disappointed. His lordship’s dropping lids hid the blazing fury in his eyes, and he merely looked bored.
“You are incapable of understanding, I daresay, that no mud can besmirch a character such as hers.” His tone was expressionless, but Sir Hubert’s dark countenance paled. The earl was perfectly capable of destroying his reputation in such a way that he would be forever unable to show himself in society. Quickly changing the subject, he said, “I suppose the parson you brought with you is the interfering Collingwood himself?”
“Yes. I rather think that young man will one day be my brother-in-law. I should not like to hear that anything had happened to him or to his family. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ is a favourite motto of mine at present.”
“I take your point, Alton. England becomes positively ennuyant, do you not find? So respectable! I believe I shall try the French side of the family for a change.” Recovering his sangfroid, Sir Hubert flicked a mote of dust from his sleeve. “I may even settle there,” he continued. “They say Louis is fond of the English.”
“The Channel is an overrated waterway, in my opinion. I was thinking more in terms of the Atlantic. I understand America is full of opportunities for the enterprising.”
“My dear fellow, you go too far, positively too far!” For the first time since the mention of Hester, the eyes of the two men met. “Oh, very well, if you insist. I have heard the belles of New Orleans are not difficult to please.”
Lord Alton smiled and stood up. “Bon voyage,” he said, and went to find Alice and her vicar.
He found them in the kitchen. A shamefaced manservant took advantage of the diversion caused by his entrance to slink out of the back door.
“All the living-in servants are men,” Mr. Collingwood informed him, “and a villainous lot. Not a single maid to support my poor dear. Without your noble intervention, her plight had been sorry indeed, and she must have succumbed at the last, I fear.”
At the thought, tears poured once more from Alice’s beautiful eyes.
“I doubt it,” said his lordship callously. “Like me, Rathwycke cannot abide weeping females. Will she ever stop?”
“I don’t mind it, and when she is happy and busy with me in Somerset, she will have no cause to cry.”
“I would not count on it. Come, let us leave this place.”
“What of Rathwycke?”
“He has decided to shake the dust of England from his feet and try his luck in the New World.”
“I will not ask how you persuaded him. I am certain I could never have done so, and all my future comfort I owe—”
“Have done, man. I suppose you know I did not do it for you, nor for Miss Alice’s pretty face. I ride for London immediately. You had best take the girl up before you on Orangepeel, and you may hire a chaise in Hemel Hempstead.”
Orangepeel and Jettison were confided to the care of the ostler at the Crown, who rarely saw such bang-up bits of blood and bone and swore on his mother’s honour to treat them like royalty till Jerry could fetch them. Alice and John Collingwood sat down to a neat dinner, but his lordship was anxious to relieve Hester’s mind of worry on her sister’s behalf—and determined that Mistress Florabel should not spend another night under her roof.
He hired the best nag the village could provide and headed back toward London, glad that daylight lingered long at this time of year.
Hester had at first had little leisure to consider the consequences of Alice’s possible loss of virtue. After waving good-bye to Lord Alton and Mr. Collingwood as they rode off, she had turned back into the house, feeling very much in need of a few quiet moments for reflexion.
Robbie was coming down the stairs, clad only in a large blue towel, clasping a bundle of soggy clothing and shivering. She hustled him into the kitchen, where James had lit the fire, and between them they bathed him.
Hester was glad to find that Jamie had apparently been too busy to hear Lord Alton’s hurried arrival and departure. She wanted to keep his sister’s disappearance from him for as long as possible.
They took supper on a tray up to Rob’s room. As they passed Florabel’s chamber door, Hester thought she heard strange sounds within, but she decided not to investigate, hoping her cousin was not ill. The boys’ room was on the other side of the corridor, and she heard nothing while they ate. Not that she ate very much. Dora’s cooking seemed particularly unappetising that evening.
Robbie fell asleep in the middle of his meal. Jamie carried the trays down, and Hester went to write a quick note to Lady Bardry. It took some argument to persuade James, without revealing the whole story, that it could not wait until tomorrow, but at last he went to deliver it. She took some mending and retired to the parlour.
Now she had time to think, and the full horror of Alice’s abduction hit her. Her sister had been in the power of that ruthless libertine for hours, more than long enough to ruin her if rumour of it ever reached the scandalmongers. Even supposing Lord Alton and Mr. Collingwood found her in time to save her, how would they stop Rathwycke’s lying tongue from destroying her reputation?
Hester could think of only one way. To her fear for Alice was added an awful dread that even now his lordship might be lying lifeless after challenging Sir Hubert in defence of her sister’s honour.
Unbidden, the memory came to her of his expression when he had discovered that Collingwood and Alice were betrothed. Not blighted hope but relief, delight even. And then he had looked at her in such a way that her heart had turned over and she had lost her breath. Had she, could she have misinterpreted that look? If Rathwycke had killed him, she would never know. And if he had killed the blackguard, he would be forced to flee abroad. Either way she would never see him again.
Desperate, she sought another solution. She could see only a choice between the loss of the man she loved and the destruction of her sister’s happiness. Thank God the choice was not hers to make.
She paced up and down, abandoning the mending. Restlessly, she went out into the garden, which glowed in the last rays of the setting sun, but its beauty could not soothe her now. She went back into the house and picked up a book, staring at the first page for ten minutes before she realised she had not read a word.
There was a knock at the front door.
Hester picked up her skirts and ran.
It was a stranger: a stout, florid-faced young man whose green and purple waistcoat was so startling that it caught Hester’s attention in spite of her disappointment.
“Kindly inform Florabel that Teddy is here,” this apparition instructed her, and held out a shilling.
“Certainly not!” she exclaimed. “I—”
“Hoity-toity, miss! Landlady, are we? Here’s a crown then.”
“That’s not necessary,” said Hester helplessly. Rather than become involved in an argument, she agreed to tell Mrs. Stevens of his arrival, and went upstairs.
She knocked on the door. There was a scuffling sound and then silence. Afraid that perhaps her cousin really was ill, she knocked again and walked in.
Florabel was sitting up in bed, very dishevelled and clutching the counterpane to her ample bosom. Near the dresser an equally dishevelled gentleman was hurriedly climbing into his nether garments, a look o
f alarm on his face.
Speechless, Hester felt behind her for the doorpost and leaned against it before her knees could give way.
“Sorry, dearie,” said Florabel sunnily, “but you was supposed ter be out tonight. A girl can’t always be running about the town.”
Her visitor had buttoned his breeches, found his hat and pulled it low over his scarlet countenance, and was tiptoeing toward the door, carrying shoes and stockings. Hester automatically moved to let him pass, and he scampered down the stairs.
“Better leave,” he advised Teddy as he passed. “Got a feeling there’s a storm about to break.”
Teddy gaped. “Got an appointment,” he said uncertainly. “Oh well, Flor ain’t the only ladybird on the town. You think . . .”
“She’ll be changing her address, if she don’t end up in Bridewell. Come on!”
Every word was audible above stairs, as was the slam of the front door behind their retreating backs. Hester found her voice at last. “I think you had best follow them,” she said quietly. “I will send your bags.” She turned to go.
Florabel, huge in a tent-like diaphanous nightgown, heaved herself out of bed and flung herself on her knees, seizing the hem of Hester’s dress.
“No, no!” she cried theatrically, “yew cannot be so crule as to thrust a pore widder out of doors at this time of night! Alas, Ebenezer, what will become of me?”
“Get up. I have been patient with you all these weeks because I thought you respectable, though I have long doubted your sincerity. I have been blind, but my eyes have been rudely opened. You will leave my house this evening.”
She stepped out of Florabel’s room and closed the door. Robbie was emerging from his chamber, rubbing his eyes, and James, just returned from his errand, appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Rob,” Hester said, “go back to bed. I’m sorry the noise disturbed you darling. Jamie, I must talk to you.”
She took his arm and led him down to the hall, where they stood watching the staircase.
“What happened?” he asked apprehensively.
