by Amanda Scott
Expelling a breath of relief, she rang the bell for Mathilde du Bois. By the time the dresser made her appearance, Mollie’s male attire had been safely stowed away, and she was dressed in a chemise, sitting upon the dressing chair, pulling stockings on over her slim legs.
“Mathilde, I must prepare for company,” she declared. “Quickly.”
Within a few short moments, Mathilde du Bois had slipped a becoming afternoon gown of emerald-green sarcenet, trimmed with gilt lace at the neck and hem, over her head. Clicking her tongue in disapproval, the haughty tirewoman reluctantly agreed to keep her mistress’s hairstyle simple, merely neatening the twisted plaits of golden-brown hair and arranging them in a sort of crown at the top of Mollie’s dainty head. Not twenty minutes had passed since she had left Hawk standing in the corridor, before she made her way down the main staircase to greet her guests. As the gentlemen rose to their feet, she was somewhat dismayed to see her husband remove his watch from his pocket and cast a glance first at it and then at herself. He said nothing, however, merely flicking the case shut again and returning it to his pocket. Mollie hurried forward to greet Lord and Lady Worthing.
“Gwen, we did not expect you until tomorrow! What a wonderful surprise!”
“Well, we hoped it would be a surprise,” Lady Gwendolyn said, laughing. “At least, we knew we would surprise you, and hoped the surprise would be a pleasant one. Fact is, there was simply no more bearing that dreadful heat, and when Jamie and Breck”—she indicated the two gentlemen—“decided to accompany us…well, that was enough inspiration, believe me. I tell you, Mollie, London fairly reeks in summer. ’Tis the most dreadful thing. One would think the sewers still ran with filth as they did in olden days.”
“In some parts of the city, they still do,” her spouse informed her gravely.
“Oh, to be sure, but not in Mayfair, sir. There is no explaining it. But I was constantly having the headache, and in my condition, you know, there was simply nothing else to be done. I longed for the cool of Hawkstone Towers, and I was persuaded you would not mind, though we did say we would arrive Wednesday. So, dearest Worthing packed us all up and we are here.”
Mollie had fastened upon only one phrase of the speedy monologue. She stared wide-eyed at her grinning sister-in-law. “In your condition! Do not tell us, Gwen, that you are increasing again. You’ve only just escaped confinement.”
“Oh, that was months ago, Mollie. And this time will not be bad at all, you know, for I expect to be confined in January, and there is nothing else of interest to do then, anyway. And by the time next Season begins, I shall be entirely recovered and Baby can be given over to Nanny.”
Conscious of a small pang of envy, Mollie extended her congratulations to the couple, and the conversation turned to other matters. She was glad to see both Lord Breckin and Sir James, for they were always welcome visitors, and it was a cheerful group that sat down to dinner that night. Unsurprisingly, a certain amount of gossip had accrued even in the short time of their absence from the metropolis, and it was with amusement that Mollie learned that Lord Alvanley was no longer being pursued by Madame de Staël’s prim daughter.
“Seems the lady discovered Alvanley’s penchant for living beyond his means,” Sir James informed the table at large with an ironic laugh.
“Oddly enough,” put in Lord Breckin, flicking a crumb from his elegant sleeve, “that was the thing that served best to lend credence to Brummell’s insistence that Alvanley was worth a hundred thousand a year. The man certainly lives up to that reputation.”
“To his creditors’ sorrow,” Hawk said, grinning.
“Well, at least their luck seems to be holding,” Lady Gwendolyn observed. “I’ve heard of nothing but their incredible winnings for a week or more now.”
Lady Bridget said gently, “Those gentlemen would be well advised to put something by for less prosperous times, would they not?”
“Indeed, ma’am,” Worthing agreed ponderously, “but I daresay they will not do so. None of the dandy set is particularly noted for his good sense.”
“Unfair, Worthing,” Breckin said, shaking his head. “I have it on excellent authority that Brummell has shown reasonable good sense on at least three occasions, though I confess I cannot call an example to mind on such short notice.”
The others laughed at this sally, and Lord Ramsay requested further information regarding Albertine de Staël. Sir James regarded him with a jaundiced eye.
“Not thinking of making a move in that direction, I hope, dear boy. ’Fraid you won’t cut a big-enough dash to suit her mama, don’t you know. ’Course, if Hawk here should slip his wind, you’d make a prime target for the woman. Can’t deny that.”
“Well, I should say not!” Ramsay retorted, rising to the bait easily. “I merely wondered if she had taken an interest in anyone else, that’s all. I pity the poor girl, with a mother like that pushing her into matrimony at so tender an age. She is only sixteen, you know. Oughtn’t to have been brought out until next year in my opinion.”
“Too true,” agreed Breckin. “Such a dab of a creature, too. Not even beauty to recommend her, you know, and always the lurking horror that she might age to look like her mother. Not a pleasant prospect. However, since you take an interest, you will be glad to know that there is a wealthy émigré in the wings, a duke at that, albeit a Frenchie without much claim to the family properties.”
“Like Prince Nicolai,” observed Mollie, not really thinking about what she was saying. “It is such a shame that those families lost so much merely by standing up for what they believed. I’m grateful that such things do not happen in England.”
“If you read your history,” Worthing told her, “you must know about the injustices of the Cromwell period, when many families lost their property. And later the Jacobites suffered too, you know.”
He would have continued in this pedantic vein had not Hawk interrupted him. Mollie had already noticed that her words had arrested the attention of every gentleman at the table one way or another. Her husband spoke with exaggerated gentleness.
“My lady, what did you mean by your comparison of that Russian prince to Breckin’s French duke? I was unaware that the Stefanoviches had lost any property to the czar.”
“Not my duke,” Breckin corrected. “Belongs to young Libertine, or will do, if her mama’s plans don’t go amiss.”
No one paid him any heed, however, for the others were all staring at Mollie, who was regarding her husband searchingly. “’Tis not property in Russia, sir, but in France. Madame de Staël told me that evening she came to supper. The evening of the harpist, sir,” she added to clarify matters.
“I remember the evening,” he said with a hint of a smile, “but I do not remember the comment.”
“You were not there,” she explained. “’Twas before the gentlemen had finished their port. They were an unconscionable time over it, if you recall.” Her eyes twinkled, daring him to remember.
“Mmmm,” was all he said to that. Then, “But what did she say exactly, Mollie?”
“Well…” Mollie searched her brain for Madame de Staël’s precise words. “I do not recall everything she said, you know. But it was something about Nicolai’s mother being French. She said it didn’t matter much, though it might affect his diplomatic career. I couldn’t understand how that could be, however, for she said his mother was dead and the family lands had all been confiscated by the Empire, so he can have no connections there now.”
A look passed from Hawk to Sir James and then to Lord Breckin before Hawk turned again to Mollie. “That is all? She said nothing more?”
“Nothing more about Prince Nicolai, sir, but you know how she is. She talked a great deal about a great many things. I couldn’t hope to remember the half of it. Nevertheless,” she added when he continued to look at her, his expression more serious than she was used to seeing it, “I am reasonably certain she said nothing more about his highness.”
Sir James sighed. “’T
is a pity we didn’t have this information before we left London,” he said dolefully.
“Why?” Lady Gwendolyn inquired. “What possible import can it have to anyone? I, for one, found Madame de Staël’s conversation incredibly wearing. I cannot think how one could be expected to remember two words out of ten once one had escaped her company.”
Recalled to their senses, the gentlemen at once denied any particular interest in Madame de Staël and pressed her ladyship for further items of gossip that might have come her way. As always, Lady Gwendolyn was delighted to comply, and the subject of Prince Nicolai’s antecedents was allowed to take its place in memory.
Though Worthing pleaded fatigue soon after tea was brought into the front hall at ten o’clock and accompanied the ladies upstairs, the other gentlemen remained below, chatting amiably. Mollie would have liked very much to remain with them, but she had a strong notion that Hawk would send her away if she attempted to stay, so she went up to bed with the others. Remembering what he had told her the night before, she left her own bedchamber the moment she was ready to retire, and climbed into bed in his room without the slightest pang of conscience. But try as she would to stay awake until he came upstairs, her eyelids simply would not obey her sternest commands. At last, fearing to set the bed curtains afire if she left the bedside candle to burn any lower, she snuffed it, turned over once, and went to sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, the only evidence she had that Hawk had even come to bed was the fact that the bedclothes were disarranged on his side. When she rang for her chocolate, Cathe informed her that most of the gentlemen has been up for a while and were even now enjoying a large breakfast together in the main dining hall. Mrs. Bracegirdle, the maid confided, had been ordered to see everyone else served in the breakfast parlor.
“Talking gentleman talk, most like,” the girl said, tossing her head in a clear opinion of such goings-on. Mollie smiled at her, and thus encouraged, Cathe informed her that gentlemen, to her mind, took themselves much too seriously.
“I am persuaded that you are right, Cathe,” Mollie said then. “Ring for Miss du Bois, will you? We’ve a busy day ahead of us.”
The truth of her words was brought home to her even sooner than she expected, for the first of their guests, having chosen to spend the night at Forest Row, arrived well before noon, and others arrived in what seemed like a continual stream until well into the night. Mollie began to feel as if her face were stretched from constant smiling. And after what must have been a thousand words of cheery welcome, she began to long for the chance to snap at someone, anyone. The Countess de Lieven was haughtier than ever away from London, and many of the other women adjusted their own manners accordingly. More than once, Mollie found her sister-in-law’s dancing eyes turned in her direction, and that, more than anything, helped her to remain calm and poised.
Of the gentlemen they saw little. Those who were directly involved in whatever plots Hawk was brewing engaged themselves in seemingly innocent pursuits for the larger part of the day, but she knew well that there was another long night session after the others had gone to bed. Prince Nicolai approached her only once, but her reception was so blighting that he made little effort after that to engage her in anything more than polite guest-to-hostess conversation, for which Mollie was profoundly grateful. She had scarcely known where to look when he first approached her, and she was certain that every eye in the room was upon them, speculating. She glanced at her husband, at that moment taking his ease, one foot on the fender of the fireplace, his elbow resting upon the mantelpiece while he chatted with Lord Bathurst. Hawk raised an eyebrow as if he were asking her if she needed his assistance, but he showed no sign of disapproving of her conversation. Encouraged by his trust in her, she soon made her escape from the prince, excusing herself to see to some newly arriving guests.
Only once had there been a moment that stirred her curiosity. Conversation had turned to Wellington’s success at Vitoria, and a general discussion had ensued, during the course of which Mollie had surprised an odd look on her husband’s face. Someone had clearly said something to pique his interest, but she had been paying little heed to the conversation, so she had no idea what, specifically, had been said. She was certain that the clearest voice just before she had glanced at Hawk had been Prince Nicolai’s. However, there was no break in the conversation, nor was there any opportunity for her to ask her husband about the incident.
By the following morning nearly everyone who had been expected had arrived with the exception of the Prince Regent and his party. Mollie was already so tired that she could scarcely enter into Lady Gwendolyn’s enthusiasm and found relief, for once, in Lady Bridget’s placid acceptance of things.
“I cannot believe this house party of yours,” Hawk’s sister said soon after they had left the Countess de Lieven and several of her followers in the breakfast parlor. “I had no notion Hawk was on such terms with men like Lord Bathurst or Monsieur de Lieven, let alone the Regent. Why, I’m sure he hadn’t so many as two political notions to rub together before he went to the Peninsula.”
“Well, they seem to have become well acquainted over the past weeks,” Mollie replied noncommittally.
But Lady Gwendolyn had not been acknowledged as one of London’s greatest gossips for a number of years by virtue of a dense mind. She regarded her hostess narrowly. “I cannot pretend to know what goes forward here,” she said almost tartly, “but I know my brother well, Mollie, and there is something stirring beneath the surface that has nothing to do with simple entertainment.”
“Well, don’t ask me what it is,” Mollie replied wearily, “for I cannot tell you. And don’t eat me. I am as much aware of the atmosphere as you are, but when I attempted to discover what was going forward, your charming brother nearly snapped my head off.”
“He is charming, isn’t he?” Lady Gwendolyn said, allowing herself to be diverted. “I wasn’t by any means certain that the two of you would ever make a match of it, you know, though I hadn’t the slightest awareness of his reasons for leaving so precipitately, but I want you to know, Mollie, that no one could be happier than I am to see the two of you constantly looking sheep’s eyes at each other.”
Mollie stared at her in astonishment. “I’m sure I’ve not the slightest notion what you mean, Gwen.”
But the other young woman merely laughed at her, and at that moment Lady Bridget approached them to suggest that someone be posted to look out for the Regent’s arrival.
“Like Mrs. Bracegirdle did the other night, you know,” she explained. “It would give ample warning for a proper welcome, I think.”
“Unnecessary, Aunt Biddy,” Ramsay said behind her. “Hawk and Lord Breckin have ridden to meet them, and Hawk already gave orders for one of the stableboys to ride up to the ridge to keep a lookout. I think, as a matter of fact, that Harry rode along with him.”
“With Hawkstone?” Lady Bridget inquired, frowning slightly. “I cannot approve of that,” she said. “It is not fitting that the Prince Regent should be met by a little boy.”
“No, no, of course not,” he said, chuckling. “Harry went off with the stableboy, I believe.”
Lady Bridget’s face smoothed again at once, but her relief was short-lived, for less than an hour and a half later the Prince Regent and a party of some twenty cavaliers rode into the central courtyard unannounced. There was no sign of Hawk or Lord Breckin.
15
MOLLIE, LADY GWENDOLYN, AND Lady Bridget did the honors of the castle, hiding their worry as best they might, their hospitable efforts warmly seconded by the Countess de Lieven and her husband as well as Lord Bathurst. It was the latter who asked what had become of their host.
“Damme if I know,” replied the corpulent Prince Regent. “Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him, you know. Damme, but I haven’t.”
“Didn’t you say Harry and a stableboy went to keep watch?” Mollie inquired of Lord Ramsay in an undertone.
“That I did. Wonder what be
came of them. I can tell you, Moll, I don’t like this.”
Lord Bathurst assumed that Hawk and Breckin had merely taken a different route than that chosen by the royal party and had somehow missed them. But a few judicious questions made it perfectly clear that such was not the case.
“It cannot be,” Lord Ramsay stated flatly, “for it will have taken his highness some time to reach the valley from Cross-in-Hand. There is only the one road, and there is no way Hawk could have missed him. Besides the which, we are also missing my younger brother, Harry, who was to have kept watch over the valley road.”
The Regent was distressed by what was rapidly being accepted as Hawk’s disappearance, and was disposed to discuss at length various possible courses of action to take in the matter. In the meantime Sir James Smithers, acting with uncharacteristic haste, demanded to know who among the men employed at the castle best knew the surrounding countryside and who among them was best at reading sign. Lord Ramsay, responding automatically to the note of authority in Sir James’ voice, not only gave him Haycock’s name but sent for the gamekeeper and his two sons to attend Sir James at once in the rear hall. He was anxious himself to accompany the search party Sir James meant to form, but Mollie grabbed his arm before he could follow the older man.
“Ramsay, wait. Have you seen Prince Nicolai?”
“A few moments ago in the courtyard,” he responded promptly. “He came out with the de Lievens.” He looked around. “I don’t see him now, however.”
“Well, we must find him,” Mollie said anxiously.
“What for? He cannot have had anything to do with this. I’ll swear he’s not left the castle. No one has, or we should have been told.”
“He might be in league with someone, with d’Épier, for example.”
