When the man departed, slowly and uttering a deep sigh, Humphrey poured out a glass of brandy and opened the letter.
The writing was unfamiliar. He had at first wondered whether it came from Damaris, but it was not her hand, which was small and neat. This writing was big, sprawling and untidy, and he had difficulty in reading it, but when he had deciphered it he sat up and drank the brandy in one gulp, then poured another glassful. Was this some prank?
Chelsea was out beyond Hyde Park, to the west of London. He knew that much, though he thought it was just a small village, and had never been near it. What the devil was Damaris doing there? He had never heard her mention knowing anyone who lived there. There was some sort of physic garden, he'd been told, but why should that be of interest to her? Unless, he thought suddenly, she had taken it into her head to go and fetch some herbs to cure her own illness or that of the brats she was spending her time nursing. Yet why should she be there at this time of night? It was madness.
He glanced out of the window. It was still daylight, though not for much longer. If he were to go, as the letter begged him, he needed to start at once, for he had heard of footpads on the road west of London. Was it possibly footpads who were holding her captive? He knew they sometimes operated in daylight. There had been no mention of a ransom, though. Was it some rogue who thought he could force her to marry him if he held her prisoner? Could it possibly be the Earl? In which case how had she managed to send him this note? It was not her writing, so who had she persuaded to write it for her?
He contemplated ignoring the appeal. If Damaris had got herself into some sort of pickle that was her foolish fault, and he did not see why he should have to race to her rescue. He would refuse some impertinent demand for her hand, and if she had ruined herself that was her stupid fault. He paused. It could be to his advantage. She would be only too glad to marry him to save her reputation, if she thought it had been damaged.
Of course he did not want his wife to have a sullied reputation, so it was up to him to save her and prevent gossip spreading. He could persuade her that her reputation was damaged even if, in fact, it was not. Then he considered the consequences if he did not go to her rescue, she came to harm, and people knew he could have saved her. He would not care for people to say he had deliberately neglected her, they might even think it had been because he hoped she would be killed, and he would inherit her fortune.
He sighed, and reached for his discarded shoes. He wondered whether to demand the company of some stout fellows, for his own protection, but the note had warned that unless he came alone he would not be permitted to see Damaris.
He had some difficulty in persuading a hackney cab driver to take him so far at this time of night, and eventually had to agree to pay double the fare, in advance. All the way through Mayfair and along Knightsbridge he kept a wary eye out, but there was still some traffic on the road, and nothing untoward happened.
Eventually, when the cab stopped at the end of the road, as he had been instructed, he alighted.
'Can you wait for me, out of sight?' he asked.
'Nah, Guv, I'm fer gettin' 'ome afore it's too dark ter see,' the driver said, and without waiting for Humphrey's angry arguments, wheeled the cab round and whipped up the horses to a fast trot.
Humphrey glared after him, but could do nothing, so he turned down the narrow street and looked for the house that had been described to him. There was no one about, and several of the houses seemed to be unoccupied. Almost at the end, when he could smell the river, and see a faint gleam of water, he saw the knocker which had been wrapped in a white cloth. He raised it, but before he could let it fall the door opened and a woman beckoned him to enter.
There was just one candle, set on a table behind her, and it threw grotesque shadows on the walls. He could not see her face, for her head was swathed in a shawl which was drawn across her mouth.
'Well, my woman, perhaps you can tell me why I have been brought here. Is my ward in the house?'
'Upstairs, me lud,' the woman whispered. 'The door on the right.'
She turned and disappeared through a door at the back of the small hallway, and Humphrey, after an impotent glare, shrugged and trod up the stairs. A faint light from the candle below was all the illumination he had, but it was sufficient to show him two doors, one to either side. The one on the right appeared to be shut, but when he pushed it it creaked open, and he entered.
*
Damaris and Mary were in the breakfast room when the butler came to say Mrs Frayne wanted to see them.
'At this time of day?' Mary asked, astonished.
'The lady seems very distraught, my lady.'
'Show her in, then. What in the world can have brought her here?' she added as the butler left the room.
Mrs Frayne came into the room, pushing aside the butler who tried to announce her, and stared round. Her hair was uncombed, partly covered by a turban which did not hide one of the curling rags dangling at the back. Her violet satin gown seemed askew, as though it had been hooked up crookedly, and the brown shawl she clutched round herself clashed hideously with it. She looked worse than distraught, almost demented.
'My dear Mrs Frayne, come and sit down, and have some coffee. What in the world is the matter?'
She waved away the coffee and stood, clutching the back of the chair Mary had indicated, but making no attempt to sit in it.
'Jennifer. Is she here? Do you know where she is?'
'Jennifer is missing? No, of course she is not here. Why do you think she might be?'
Mrs Frayne gave a convulsive sob, and when Damaris took her arm and urged her to sit, collapsed into the chair as though her legs would no longer hold her. Mary poured out some coffee and Damaris held it out to her. In between sobs she gulped coffee and haltingly explained.
'She called here yesterday, and I thought you might know something. Of what was on her mind. Her bed was not slept in. She's never before done anything like this. What shall I do if I can't find her?'
'What does her maid say? When did she last see her?' Damaris asked.
'She said she had the headache, and did not go with us to the theatre. Her maid says she sent her to bed early, and insisted she was not to be disturbed until she rang this morning. The girl is useless! She has no idea what has happened!'
'So she did not confide in the maid?'
Mrs Frayne shook her head, and the curling rag slipped off her hair and dropped to the floor.
'The fool says not.'
Damaris recalled the young girl she had seen when Jennifer arrived in Upper Brook Street, young and seemingly untrained. She was not the sort of confidante to appeal to Jennifer.
'You think she left the house voluntarily?'
'I can't imagine kidnappers gained entry and abducted her without any of the servants noticing!' Mrs Frayne snapped with more of her usual acerbity.
'Of course not,' Mary said soothingly. 'She left no note?'
'No. I said so. But why would she go out secretly? She's always confided in me. We've been like sisters. And where can she have gone?'
The possibility of Jennifer eloping had occurred to both Damaris and Mary, and they exchanged incredulous glances. Damaris shook her head slightly, and suppressed a grin. If the girl had come to harm she should not laugh.
'I would hazard a guess she went out just for a short while, and meant to return soon, and that is why there was no note,' Mary suggested.
'She must have come to some harm! She was enticed away. I cannot imagine why she would leave the house like that! She is no green girl, with silly secrets to keep from me.'
'Then I greatly fear you are right, and some accident might have overtaken her,' Damaris said slowly.
Mrs Frayne groaned.
'My poor little girl! How shall I discover it if it has? She could be lying dead in some ditch by now.'
'It is not likely to be as bad as that,' Mary said bracingly. 'If she were injured, it is most probable some householder took her in. If
she suffered concussion she might not be able to tell them where she lives. What did she take with her? A reticule? Did she have any calling cards, for instance?'
'That idiot maid cannot even tell me what she was wearing! All she does is weep and declare it was not her fault. I'll send her packing as soon as I have time to think about it.'
'Have you contacted the Bow Street Runners?' Damaris asked.
'I don't want to spread scandal.'
Which did she consider more important, Damaris wondered, finding her daughter or retaining her own good name?
'What does Lord Frayne advise?'
'Him! He went out early, before we discovered she was missing. I sent for Clarence, but I decided I had to start looking myself.'
'Clarence is probably at Upper Brook Street by now, so why do you not go back and talk to him? Or Jennifer might have returned. Did you come in your carriage?'
'No, I could not wait for it to be brought round, so I took a hackney cab.'
'Then I will send you back home in my carriage. Damaris, dear, can you arrange it?'
'Of course, and if you think it might help I will come back with you.'
*
The Earl, accompanied by his groom, was driving his curricle westwards, and had just passed the Hyde Park turnpike when he was overtaken by Francis Willett, astride a good looking Arab Luke had long coveted, but which Frank adamantly refused to part with, at any price.
'This is early for you, and I've never before known you go to Kensington,' Luke said.
'Not Kensington, I go to Chelsea. Is it possible we are heading in the same direction? Did you receive a mysterious invitation too?'
'From one of Prinnie's friends? To discuss some matter of importance, secretly, over breakfast?'
'Yes, and I thought it smelled. I'm not in Prinnie's set, never have been.' He patted his saddle holsters. 'I came prepared.'
'I hope it doesn't come to that! You're a fiery fellow, Frank.'
'It does no harm to be ready for mischief.'
They drove and rode the rest of the way in silence, but just before they turned into the street to which they had been directed they caught up with two of their friends also driving a curricle, who had received the same invitation.
'Do you think this is some plot to depose Farmer George?' one of them asked. 'Prinnie is relishing being Regent, and might want something more. He and his father have never got on.'
'Life has been remarkably free of plots for a hundred years,' the other said. 'It would add some excitement to a rather dull Season.'
They reached the house at the end of the road and were admitted by a man in footman's livery, who indicated that the meeting was to take place in an upstairs room.
The fellow, though in the correct livery, was unlike any footman Luke had known. He was short and fat, with bandy legs, and at least fifty years of age. His hands were rough, and he smelt of horses and stables. He was, or had been until very recently, a groom or ostler.
Luke began to wish he had brought his own pistols, and he noticed Frank, normally a fastidious dresser, had stuck his own into his pockets. He clenched his fists in anticipation. Somehow he doubted they would get out of this without some confrontation. Yet there were four young, athletic men, too many for any but a small army to overwhelm, and all could give good accounts of themselves if it came to a fight.
As they began to ascend the stairs there were more arrivals, and glancing back Luke was surprised to see his cousin Clarence, accompanied by Lord Ryecot. What the devil was going on?
Another man, this time garbed as a groom, but looking more like a former pugilist, stood in front of a door at the top of the stairs. He nodded, turned to face the door, and then pushed it open and gestured to them to enter.
Frank was the first to pass through the doorway, his hands on his pistols, and the Earl was close behind. Willett stopped abruptly, and Luke squeezed past him. The other men, pushing from behind, forced them to move further into the room, and soon all six of them were staring at the couple in front of them.
'So it's just a little love nest,' one commented, and laughed. 'Why on earth have we been brought here just to see this?'
Humphrey Lee had been sitting on the floor, legs spread out and his head resting against the wall on the far side of the room. There was a bed to one side, and lying on it, swathed in a cloak and with the hood pulled over her head, was an undisputably female form.
At the sound of the door opening and the footsteps entering the room Humphrey started to scramble to his feet, and the figure on the bed twisted round to look towards the door. Seeing so many men regarding her with astonishment, she turned back, curling into a ball, and sobbing wearily.
Luke turned to the others.
'Shall we go and leave them in peace?' he asked.
On hearing his voice the woman struggled to sit up.
'Luke? Is it you? Oh, thank goodness! You must take me home! We've been locked in here all night!'
She managed to get to her feet and flung herself into Luke's arms, sobbing wildly. He discovered he was holding his cousin Jennifer, and looked over her head towards Humphrey.
'I will call at your hotel later today, sir, and hear your explanation of this.'
***
Chapter 14
Damaris, Mary and the Earl were in Mary's drawing room. Lord Frayne was telling them what had happened.
'I brought her home when she had recovered. She was hysterical at first. They had been locked in that room since late the previous night.'
'But how? Why had she gone there? Or had she been abducted?' Mary asked. 'Her mother said she appeared to have left the house late last night, without anyone knowing, so it's unlikely she was taken by force.'
'She went because she was curious,' Lord Frayne said. 'She confessed on the way home. I'm afraid she intercepted a letter intended for you, Miss Hallem. It is not the first time she has pried into correspondence meant for someone else.'
'Meant for me? But how did she come to see it?'
'It was handed to her while she and your guardian waited for their carriage outside your house, yesterday. There was no name on the cover, and she insists she thought it was intended for her. Though I feel sure that if you had received it you would not have been so foolish as to go alone to a strange house late at night.'
'And she assumed someone just happened to find her outside this house? I hesitate to condemn your cousin, my lord, but is she a complete simpleton to think anyone would believe that?'
'It was the best excuse she could devise. She believes I am paying attentions to you, Miss Hallem, and is, I fear, jealous. She has not completely given up the hope that I might one day marry her.'
Damaris had blushed at this. He was not paying her attentions. After her unambiguous rejection of his offer their only contact had been the games of chess. That they sometimes drove or rode together was incidental, and he claimed her hand at balls because it was the polite thing to do. She felt a sudden ripple of dismay when she realized that when the Season was over, she and Lord Frayne might never meet again. Unless, that is, he were living in the Castle and she had retreated to one of the farmhouses. Could she endure to be so close to him?
'It was uncommonly foolish, but I have not thought your cousins were very intelligent,' Mary said firmly. 'So what did happen?'
'The letter gave instructions to go to that house in Chelsea late last night. She took a hackney cab, not one of our carriages, presumably because she hoped to escape detection. She wore a cloak and had the hood pulled up over her head, so in the dusk whoever admitted her to the house would not have realized it was not Miss Hallem. She was shown into an upstairs room, and a while later Mr Lee was also taken there. The door was then locked, and too sturdy to break down, Mr Lee said, though he claimed he had tried. The window was too small for anyone to get out of, and they were trapped.'
'And several gentlemen invited there to witness their discomfort this morning. How wicked!'
'Indeed. When I sa
w Mr Lee at his hotel this morning I finally persuaded him to admit he had received a similar letter last night, but this time telling him he would find Miss Hallem there. He at least had a genuine excuse for going to the house, thinking he was about to rescue you from some dire peril.'
'Have either of them any idea who enticed them there, and then locked them in?' Mary asked.
'No, my lady. Nor did any of us who were invited to go there this morning have the slightest clue as to who sent those invitations. But the intention was clear enough.'
'To destroy my reputation,' Damaris said slowly.
'Unless you agreed to marry Mr Lee. To trap you both in such a way might force you to accept him.'
'Could it have been Mr Lee himself?' Mary asked. 'He is probably becoming concerned that Damaris will soon be out of his control, and thought of this way of coercing her.'
'Then he does not know me! I would never be constrained to wed him in such a fashion.'
The Earl laughed.
'Does he know that? But when I left Upper Brook Street my aunt was breathing fire and fury, bemoaning Jennifer's misfortune, and demanding that Clarence drives Mr Lee to the altar at gunpoint. She tried to have me perform the task, but I refused. It is unlikely to damage Jennifer's prospects of marriage, for she has few.'
'That is unkind! Will many people know?' Mary asked.
'I fear so. Ryecot and the others will soon have spread the story round the clubs. It is too tempting a morsel for them to resist. I imagine that was the reason for their being invited. They are noted gossips.'
'Who could be so wicked? Who wanted to destroy Damaris?'
'I think I can guess,' Lord Frayne said, his tone grim, but he refused to enlarge on the hint. 'I will be making enquiries, and can discover who rented that house. It is unlikely to be the chief culprit, but there will be a trail leading me to them. I must go now, but I will keep you informed.'
*
At first Humphrey refused to see Clarence when his card was brought up to his room. He had already endured a difficult half hour with Lord Frayne, who had been politely sceptical about the letter, particularly when Humphrey said he had destroyed it. He wanted no more arguments with the wretched Miss Frayne's relatives.
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