by Jayne Davis
“He is about to leave the country,” Bella said, before her father could carry on.
“What? He can be summoned back. I’ll get… I’ll get Staverton onto it right away. What is his full name?”
“I don’t know. He called himself Senhor da Gama.”
“What do you mean, called himself?” A vein began to throb in her father’s forehead, and a sheen of sweat appeared on his skin.
“I believe he is actually the illegitimate son of a Spanish nobleman.”
“What?” Aunt Aurelia’s voice was quiet, but it shook slightly. Bella glanced at her, to see she was suppressing laughter. “That seems most appropriate, brother. You married your son off to a woman of dubious parentage, after all.”
“You stupid woman, I did not do that knowingly! Charters deceived me. Good God, am I to be surrounded…?” He broke off. “Get Staverton back in here,” he croaked. “That fool physician can stay out of my way until I’ve given my orders. You, girl, you go to your room now. You’ll be taken to Marstone Park and kept there until I can find someone—anyone—who’ll give you his name. One of the men on your aunt’s list will do, if he’s been alone with you at all. Even if I have to pay him! I’ll not have you besmirching my family’s—”
“Come away, Isabella,” Aunt Aurelia said, taking Bella’s arm and urging her towards the door. With an uncertain glance at her father, Bella followed.
“Aurelia, come back here! I’ve told you not to walk away while I’m talking to you.”
The door to the sitting room burst open, and the physician hurried over to the bed. “My lord, calm yourself. You really must not excite yourself so!”
“Get Staverton in here, now! I want—”
Aunt Aurelia closed the door behind them and accompanied Bella to her bedroom. The footman who had been guarding her door kept pace behind them and cleared his throat as her aunt followed Bella into her room.
“Er, excuse me, my lady.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“His lordship said no-one was to talk to Lady Isabella.”
Aunt Aurelia stared at him until he shuffled his feet and stood back.
“Sorry, my lady.”
Aunt Aurelia closed the door rather harder than was necessary and crossed to the window, beckoning Bella to follow her. “I wouldn’t put it past that insolent lackey to listen.”
Bella sank into a chair, feeling less distressed than she’d expected. Perhaps it was because she had anticipated this outcome. Molly and Langton had already smuggled her small trunk out of the house and taken it to Maria, along with the letters. Now all she had to do was to get out of the house unseen. She had to leave tonight. Here in London she had people who would help her—it would be far more difficult to escape once she’d been taken to Marstone Park.
“Isabella, I cannot let you run off unprotected.” Aunt Aurelia sat on the window seat.
What? How did her aunt know?
“You are thinking of that, aren’t you?”
Bella nodded. There was little point in denying it.
“I cannot take you home with me—Cerney would not like to get involved in a dispute with Marstone.”
“Papa could have me brought back, anyway.”
“Yes. He has the right, in law. You’d be better at Wingrave’s place in Devonshire. Marstone would still send someone to bring you back, but he’d have a fight on his hands. However, much as I sympathise, I am not prepared to escort you such a distance, particularly as Marstone is likely to send that secretary of his after us. He may not be able to force us to return with him, but he could make enough fuss to cause more scandal.”
“I understand, Aunt.” She shouldn’t feel disappointed at her aunt’s words—she had not been expecting to receive help from that quarter.
“Had you planned beyond telling my brother that you might be in an interesting condition?”
Bella opened her mouth to answer, but wondered how much she trusted her aunt.
Aunt Aurelia sighed. “Isabella, I have as little love for that man as you. Even if I betrayed you to him, I doubt he’d give me the money he promised. But I will not let you risk yourself on a long journey alone.”
“I won’t be alone, Aunt.”
“Who will go with you?”
Bella still hesitated, but what had she to lose? Will had promised to employ anyone who lost their position through helping her.
“My maid, and one of the footmen. One of Will’s men is in Town as well, and I think Lady— That is, I think Will’s man has received a message that I need to escape.”
“So you only need help to get out of the house?”
Could it really be managed so easily?
“Aunt, could you complain about that footman’s insolence?” She pointed to the door. “If Langton can be assigned to guard me instead, that is all you need to do.”
“Tonight?” Aunt Aurelia nodded. “Yes, the sooner the better, I think.” She patted Bella on the shoulder. “Do take care, my dear.”
Chapter 23
“I am afraid Lady Isabella is not at home to visitors,” the butler said, as Nick stood at the top of the steps to Marstone House.
He was early, so it was unlikely that Lady Isabella had already left the house. “Is she unwell?”
“I am not at liberty to say, sir.”
“I will see Lady Cerney, then.” Nick took a step forward, forcing the butler to move aside.
“Very well, sir.”
Nick gazed at a portrait of some Marstone ancestor while he waited, trying to think what he should say. He really needed to see Isabella and find out if she wished to be taken to Devonshire before he made further arrangements. Lady Cerney might at least confirm whether Isabella was still here.
“If you would step this way, sir?” The butler led the way upstairs. The curtains in the room he was shown into were only half drawn, but there was enough light to show that this was a bedroom, not a parlour.
“His lordship wished to see you, sir,” the butler said, then bowed and left.
Nick scanned the room, only then noticing Marstone in the bed, his head and shoulders supported on a mound of pillows.
“What do you want with Isabella, Carterton?” Marstone’s voice was a mere croak.
Nick knew the earl had been ill, but he hadn’t realised how unwell he was.
“Sit down, man, don’t loom over me like that.” The testy voice was accompanied by a brief wave of a hand towards an upright chair near the bed.
“I called to enquire whether she wished to drive with me this afternoon.” The truth, if not the whole truth.
“You’ve been seen with her a few times recently, I understand.” Marstone’s words came out somewhat slurred. “What are your intentions? Are you courting the chit?”
Nick hesitated. Did that question imply that Marstone was not planning on Narwood for a son-in-law?
“No, I am not.” Not yet.
The image of her sharing his life, and sharing his bed, had been in his mind most of the night, but didn’t want to court her in earnest until he could free her of the threat of an unwanted marriage. He didn’t want a wife who’d married him just to escape someone else.
“Really?” There was an unpleasant half-smile on Marstone’s face that made Nick feel uneasy. “You have been seen with her on numerous occasions, Carterton, and you attempted to see her here today. Why, if you are not courting her?”
The truth was unlikely to make things worse for Isabella than they already were. “Wingrave asked me to stand in for him while he was away, to ensure she wasn’t made to marry against her wishes.”
“You…? He asked…?” Marstone’s face turned a shade of dull red, but to Nick’s surprise there was no furious outburst. The earl took a deep breath and continued. “I might have known he would meddle somehow. Nevertheless, you have been seen in company with her, Carterton. She’ll have a good dowry, a large one. A barony is not as high as I’d like, but people will readily believe you—” Marstone’s words cu
t off abruptly, but his gaze was still fixed on Nick.
Nick’s attention sharpened. Marstone hadn’t stopped because he was unwell; he had thought better of what he was going to say. Had gossip already spread about her tryst with da Gama last night? Or had he been made the subject of the gossip?
“We’ll see what Isabella has to say about you. I’m sure there’s something to be done.” Marstone reached out and rang a little bell on a table by the bed. A door at the far side of the room opened, and a man entered—the earl’s valet, from the look of him.
“Get Mowbray to bring Lady Isabella here,” the earl ordered.
“Very good, my lord.”
Nick walked over to the window. He could leave now and avoid the coercion he suspected Marstone was about to apply, but he needed to know that Isabella was all right. It wasn’t long before the butler entered the room, stopping just inside the door. “The housekeeper is fetching the spare key to Lady Isabella’s room, my lord.”
“Spare key?”
Marstone’s words echoed Nick’s thought and his jaw clenched. Marstone was keeping his daughter locked up? He made an effort to relax; he must remain calm if he was to be of any assistance.
“Er, yes, my lord. The footman on duty overnight is absent, so we cannot enter the room.”
“The footman’s gone?” Marstone pushed himself up, and the valet dashed to rearrange the pillows behind him. “Fetch Lady Cerney. Now!”
Nick stepped into the shadow of a curtain; Marstone seemed to have forgotten his presence.
“What is it now, Marstone?” Lady Cerney swept into the room, swathed in a loose robe and shedding a fine cloud of hair powder as she moved.
“Where is Isabella?”
“How would I know? I’m not her maid.” Far from being worried or surprised, Lady Cerney appeared to be amused. Marstone didn’t answer, sitting with his eyes on the door. The silence was heavy, ominous.
“Well?” Marstone barked as a footman appeared in the doorway.
“Lady Isabella’s room is empty, my lord. No-one has seen her since yesterday evening.”
She hadn’t run off alone, surely? Nick’s anger turned to a sick feeling in his stomach.
“Gone?” In a sudden burst of energy, Marstone flung the bedclothes back and swore as he tried to disentangle his legs from the sheets.
“Do take care, brother, or you will fall.” Lady Cerney’s tone did not match the concern in her words, and she made no move to assist the earl.
Marstone pushed himself to his feet and stood for a moment, swaying and breathing heavily. “Mowbray, get Staverton up here, now.” The butler hurried off, and Marstone turned to his sister. “What do you know about this, Aurelia? You can forget having your bills paid.”
“That was made plain yesterday. Why you think I owe you any further co-operation, I have no idea.”
“You… you…” Marstone took a step towards Lady Cerney, then staggered. Nick hurried forward as the man began to collapse, and helped him to sit back on the bed.
“Should you not send for help, my lady?” Nick asked, wondering at her lack of concern, but the valet hurried in as he spoke.
“I think you had better get him back into bed and send for the doctor again,” Lady Cerney said to the valet. “Damn fool. He’s been warned not to lose his temper.” She turned to leave.
“My lady?” Nick hurried after her, and she paused in the corridor. “Am I to understand that Lady Isabella has run away?” Wingrave would never forgive him—and rightly so—if harm came to his sister. But this was no longer about his word to Wingrave.
“I assume so. She assured me she would have her maid and footman with her, and one of Wingrave’s men.” She met Nick’s gaze, a challenge in her eyes.
“You let her go?”
“What should I have done?” Lady Cerney asked. “My brother was going to incarcerate her at Marstone Park again until he could marry her off. She said she had made arrangements.”
Why hadn’t she come to him? He felt a stab of pain that she did not trust him to help her.
“I expect she’s heading for Wingrave’s place in Devonshire,” Lady Cerney went on. “She’ll be safe enough there for a while.”
“If she gets there.” He must go after her. If Archer was involved, why hadn’t he sent word? “Excuse me, Lady Cerney.”
The post-chaise rattled along the road, the houses and occasional buildings giving way to rougher countryside. Bella shifted uncomfortably at the weight of the child on her lap.
“I’ll take him, my lady,” Fletcher said, and Bella handed Billy over gratefully, smoothing the dull blue fabric of her skirt.
“You mustn’t call me that,” she reminded the seamstress.
“No matter,” Archer said, from the other end of the seat. “As long as you don’t do it when anyone else is around.”
“Yes, Mr Fletcher.”
Archer looked like a respectable merchant, and Fletcher’s clothing was of good enough quality for her to pass as his wife. Bella’s mob cap covered most of her hair, and her plain gown and cloak had been borrowed from one of Lady Jesson’s maids. ‘Mr and Mrs Fletcher’ were travelling to Bath with their young son and servants. Poor Molly and Langton had been relegated to the outside seat at the back of the chaise. Thankfully the air was warm, even though drizzle still greyed the sky.
“Hounslow Heath.” Archer indicated the scrubby grass and stands of trees. “We should be safe enough in daylight, though.”
“Oh, I read about highwaymen,” Fletcher said, bouncing Billy on her knee.
Bella still marvelled at the difference between this cheerful woman and the haggard seamstress she’d first met.
“There was one who asked a lady to dance, and only took some of her money,” Fletcher went on.
“Du Vall,” Archer said. “Over a hundred years ago, that was.”
Bella let the discussion of legendary robberies flow past her, returning her gaze to the passing scenery. She wriggled her shoulders; the undergarments she wore felt rather scratchy. She was used to smoother fabrics, but Maria had pointed out that she would be staying at several inns during the journey, and it wouldn’t do to raise suspicion by having undergarments that were too fine. Her father would send Staverton after her, and possibly others, as soon as her escape was discovered, but he would be looking for a young lady with a maid and footman, not a respectable steward and his wife, travelling to Bath with their child and nursemaid.
She hoped Maria’s footman had delivered her note to Mr Carterton this morning. It had felt wrong to set off without letting him know, but her father’s threats had stopped her doing so. Father would easily find out that he had been seen with her as often as any of the others on Aunt Aurelia’s list—more often, in fact. If he also helped her to run away, Father would use every means he could to force a marriage. She was not going to submit to that—she wanted to choose for herself.
It wouldn’t be fair to Mr Carterton, either. He was courting Jemima Roper—and even without that, he had only been seen so much with her because he was standing in for Will. He’d told her to think of him as a brother, and a man did not wish to marry his sister.
That was a pity, though; if her father did win in the end, Mr Carterton was by far the best of the men she’d met. No-one had as nice a smile as Luis da Gama, but Mr Carterton’s came close, and there was no comparison between the characters of the two men.
Archer had passed from tales of highwaymen to smugglers and their battles with excisemen. Bella listened for a while, and would normally have been fascinated by such things, but her mind kept returning to her own flight. It was late morning, and if she hadn’t been missed yet she would be soon. How long would it take her father to guess where she was going? Would Staverton overtake them on the road and recognise Langton and Molly? Possibly not—Archer had pointed out that most lords and ladies, and ambitious men like Staverton, took little notice of those beneath them.
A rider went past, breaking into a trot to overtak
e the chaise. Bella relaxed a little when she didn’t recognise him.
“Best not to look, my… Mary,” Archer said. “One of his lordship’s men might recognise your face.”
Bella looked away from the window. “I’ll take Billy again,” she said. Anyone looking for her would surely take little notice of a woman with a child on her knee. She enjoyed the feeling of the small, trusting body in her arms and wondered, with a lump in her throat, what it would be like to hold a child of her own. A child with a father who loved them both, who would discuss things with her and not merely give orders.
They changed horses without incident a couple of times, and stopped for dinner at Maidenhead. The postboys took them to a bustling inn, its yard too busy with ostlers changing teams and loading luggage for anyone to take particular notice of their party.
“I’ve enough money for a private parlour,” Archer said as they paused to let a group of travellers out through the inn door. “But anyone making enquiries would ask about—”
“No parlour,” Bella decided. Archer nodded, and led the way indoors. Inside, the taproom seemed as busy and noisy as the yard, but Archer managed to find a table large enough for five. The meal, when it came, was a lukewarm stew swimming with grease. Squashed between Molly and Langton, with Billy on her lap, Bella forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls, but was happy to spend the rest of the time feeding Billy from the bowl of bread and milk provided. The boy was still sleepy, and Bella wondered if Fletcher had given him a little paregoric. Bella couldn’t blame her if she had—the prospect of being cooped up in the chaise for the next couple of days with a fractious child was not an attractive one.
“It’s another couple of hours, at the most, to Reading,” Archer said, when everyone had finished eating. “We’ll find an inn there for the night. Best to get a bit further from London?” He looked at Bella as he spoke.
“Yes. I mean, Molly, are you all right—?”
“I’ll be fine, m…Mary,” the maid said firmly. “I’ve got a warm coat.”
“I’ll get the horses put to,” Langton said, and hurried off.
