As Mr. Parsons approached, I stood, stopping him from moving past me.
“Where is Mr. Bancroft? Have you seen him recently?” I tried to keep my voice free of the suspicion I felt.
“He was not enjoying the party, I’m afraid. He took the carriage back to his home. Not to worry, by the time we finish here the carriage will be back to return you to Rosewood.” Mr. Parsons turned to leave, but I caught a handful of his sleeve. He glanced down at me with annoyance. I was shocked by his behavior … it was as if he had never admired me—never even tolerated me for one moment. But his eyes also slid over me with caddish focus. I let go of his sleeve fast.
“Nicholas would not have left without informing me,” I said in a loud voice, recalling his eyes back to my face.
“That is simply what he told me. I am sorry I do not have further information.” Mr. Parsons brushed his sleeve off and stepped away, rejoining the women he had sat with in the dining room.
Nothing made sense. My mind spun in circles as I sat down beside Kitty once again. She had been watching the exchange with half her attention, carrying a conversation with the woman beside her at the same time. A minute later, she leaned close to my ear.
“What did you do to divert Mr. Parsons’ attentions? You nearly had him!” she half-whispered.
“I did nothing. I asked him where Nicholas was and he told me Nicholas traveled home.” The words didn’t sound true.
Kitty rolled her eyes. “I do not understand why Nicholas attended at all. Quickly now, you must make amends with Mr. Parsons before it is too late.”
I couldn’t believe her lack of worry for Nicholas. Something was wrong. Why would he leave without warning?
What must have been no more than thirty minutes later, we were ushered into the ballroom on the other side of the manor. The assembly seemed smaller now within the larger room, and Nicholas was still nowhere to be found. The widowed Miss Hyatt studied the room as well, likely searching for the same person I was.
The music began, but I did not feel like dancing. I was beginning to feel ill again. I did not trust one word that had been spoken by Mr. Parsons. Lady Stanton, our hostess, interrupted shortly after the first dance, cutting off the ensemble. Her hair was tightly curled and pale, frizzing out on the sides. She was dressed in an elegant blue gown with gold trim, but it was her eyes that caught my attention, wide with consternation.
She took a deep breath and her husband moved beside her, his face twisted in panic as well. The room fell silent as Lady Stanton spoke. “Several of our antiques have disappeared, as well as many valuable relics from our travels in the continent. I do not mean to alarm or accuse, but please, if you know of their location do come forward at once.”
A hush fell over the crowd before they erupted with whispers. My heart pounded with a question that I didn’t want to acknowledge. No. I tried to shush my thoughts, but Mr. Rossington’s voice cut through them before I could.
“Mr. Nicholas Bancroft was in attendance, but I have not seen him for the last hour.” He seemed far too happy with the prospect of accusing Nicholas. I wished his embarrassingly tight breeches would split right down the middle in front of every woman in the room.
“It is true,” Kitty said.
I gasped, jerking my head toward her. Every head in the room turned toward her too.
“That does not prove his guilt,” Lady Stanton said, her voice shaking.
“He was acting rather suspiciously, I confess, and he exited the dining room alone.” Mr. Parsons stepped forward, his voice sharp and nauseating. I refused to believe that Nicholas was involved in this. My spine chilled with uncertainty, but I shook it away. My eyes stung with tears as I begged myself to trust him, to believe in his promised innocence. If he had done this, then I could never trust him again. He was a good person; I knew he was. How could I doubt him? Every person in this room doubted him; he needed someone to believe in him. I knew he was innocent. The knowledge spread through my veins and strengthened me, and my suspicions returned to another source. Mr. Parsons.
Kitty slid her eyes to me before speaking again. “It is rumored … that he has conspired with highwaymen in the recent months, and I fear he may have reverted to old habits, my lady.” She threw me an apology with her eyes.
The crowd buzzed with Kitty’s words, and I refused to hear it any longer. I stared at Kitty, unable to believe that she had just revealed the words I had spoken to her in confidence. My muscles stiffened in defense and courage.
“He is not that man!” I shouted over the rumble of voices. “He is good and innocent and kind, I assure you. I have known him all of my life. Take your accusations elsewhere.”
My words seemed to go unheard, for the party was still abuzz with whispers and plans to apprehend Nicholas. The party was soon cut short, and an assortment of wheels was sent after the carriage that had taken Nicholas home. After several minutes, the remaining party dispersed with their fresh gossip. When we were outside, I gripped Kitty’s shoulder from behind and turned her fiercely toward me.
“What have you done?” My voice was shrill and tears streaked from my eyes.
Her face fell. “Lucy, I could not keep quiet in a situation like this, surely you understand! If Nicholas is truly as innocent as you claim, then he will not be held accountable. But if he is indeed guilty, then the demands of justice will be served, as they should.”
My heart was in my throat. I shook with anger and fear. “He will be brought to trial, Kitty! He could be executed!” I pressed my hand to my forehead and bit my lip to keep from crying harder.
Kitty scoffed in disbelief. “He is a thief!”
I could hardly see her through my tears. I narrowed my eyes and backed away from her. “He is not.”
She was silent as she pulled me toward the coach. I reluctantly climbed inside on my shaking legs. The moment I sat down, a small phaeton entered the drive ahead of us. Two men descended from their seats and approached Lord and Lady Stanton. I leapt down from the coach, nearly tripping on my skirts. I hurried over to where a cluster of the remaining guests stood, straining to hear the conversation.
“We tried to apprehend the carriage ten miles down the road, but Bancroft appeared to be in a hurry, not stopping until arrival at his home. He appeared confused, and claimed to have no knowledge of the thievery, but we found this in the carriage, my lord.” The man lifted a small antique to the moonlight. It didn’t appear to have much value. “The constable has made plans to speak with him this evening.”
My heart sunk. What was Nicholas doing with that item? In my peripheral vision, I saw Mr. Parsons mounting a horse. He was tucked around the side of the manor, where he couldn’t be seen by the majority of the party. Without thinking, I marched over to him, anger pounding through my steps. Mr. Parsons was involved in this; I knew it with a certainty that chilled my bones. Nicholas had always been brave. It was time I did the same for him.
“Where are you going?” I snapped as I reached the side of the horse.
Mr. Parsons appraised me from above, his gaze pompous and casual. “No place of consequence.”
I hardened my gaze. “Why have you ignored me this evening?” I couldn’t let him know my suspicions or he would likely ride away.
His expression faltered for a brief moment. “You bore me, Miss Abbot. You do not return my attentions.”
My stomach lurched with disgust. How had I ever considered this man handsome or agreeable? I studied his face, trying to decipher his motivations. I breathed deeply, formulating a plan in my mind. It was horrifying, but I had an odd suspicion about the overly filled sack that hung from Mr. Parsons’s saddle on the other side of the horse, hidden from view.
“I do.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You have said nothing of the sort.”
“I am saying it now. Please, Mr. Parsons,” I tipped my head flirtatiously and leaned closer, lowering my voice. As I moved closer, I caught sight of something in the sack on the other side of the horse, shining g
old under the moonlight. It appeared very much like an item I had seen upon my arrival at the house tonight. He was the thief. He had framed Nicholas. But why?
I tried not to cringe at the wry smile that twisted his mouth. My words stumbled out. I needed more time to formulate a plan. “I would very much like to speak to you about my feelings. Allow me to accompany you to this place.”
The people on the property had begun to disperse, and my carriage was waiting on the other side of the house. My heart pounded. I was placing myself in horrible danger. He seemed to consider it, sweeping his gaze over me distractedly. “Your words mean nothing.”
I swallowed. Fear crept over my shoulders but I forced myself to remain strong and calm. “Then I will show you how I feel. I am quite smitten by you,” I whispered.
He cracked his neck, clenching his jaw as he fought over his decision. I waited. It would be simple. I would mount the front of his horse and we would ride away in the dark. I would beg him to steer the horse. We would drive in front of the remaining party and I would throw the sack to the ground where it would open and reveal the items Mr. Parsons had stolen.
He had been quiet for too long. He was close to giving in.
I reached up and touched his arm, tracing my finger down to his hand. I shivered in revulsion at the caddish expression on his face as he looked down at me. He dismounted his horse and I took an involuntary step backward. We stood where no one could see us, and I experienced a surge of regret and fear. He pulled me toward him and I pretended it didn’t disgust me. My heart raced, and I was tempted to kick him and run away. This had not been my wisest plan. He slid his hand around my waist and gathered me closer, running his other hand along my cheek and neck.
“Mr. Parsons!” I said in a panicked voice. I dislodged myself from his arms and tried my hardest to hide my fear. “Not here. We might be seen.” I transformed my voice to a demure one, walking around him toward the horse. It shifted restlessly, but I stroked its muzzle softly, in part to calm the horse but mostly to calm myself. “My father taught me to ride when I was very young. Might I take the reins? You can direct me to your destination.”
I stared straight ahead, heart pounding in anticipation. I heard him step closer behind me, and I reeled in disgust as I felt his breath on the back of my neck. He breathed in my hair, gripping me at the waist. I was about to jerk myself away when he lifted me effortlessly onto the saddle.
“You are surprising this evening, Miss Abbot. Perhaps I was wrong in considering you a bore.” He mounted behind me.
I struggled to breathe with the fear that choked me. I had one chance to do this. The voices from the other side of the manor echoed in the dark and I gripped the reins with both hands. I sat sideways on the saddle, giving me a clear view of Mr. Parsons where he sat, far too near, behind me. “Where shall I direct us?” My voice shook. I hoped he couldn’t hear it.
“South.” He gestured in the opposite direction of where I intended to go. “I need to meet an acquaintance, but we may spend an hour or two at my home first.” His voice was low and much too close to my ear. “It isn’t far.” I felt his touch on my shoulder, sliding down my waist again. I shifted forward on the horse and let the reins loose. I wanted to throw Mr. Parsons off the horse at this very moment. He would lead a woman away and willingly ruin her reputation without a second thought? Nicholas had been correct in his warning me to be careful. Mr. Parsons was a dangerous man. A wicked, wicked man. I was confident that he had framed Nicholas for the robbery. Somehow.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as the horse stepped forward. Before I could lose my nerve, I steered violently in the opposite direction, making Mr. Parsons lose his balance as the horse turned swiftly. I slapped the reins and we lurched forward in a trot, then a run. The speed of his horse shocked me, and within seconds we were in sight of the party once again.
Mr. Parsons yelled something behind me, but I couldn’t hear. He grabbed my arm and wrenched it backward. I cried out, and Lord Stanton’s eyes shot up in our direction.
I cried out for help as Mr. Parsons wrenched my other arm.
The crowd stared in bewilderment for a moment before several men moved toward our oncoming horse. I had managed to maintain my grip on the reins, so I pulled them tight, bringing us to an abrupt halt. The horse whinnied in annoyance. An elderly man reached for me and helped me slide down. I could hardly stand on my shaking legs. Mr. Parsons caught his breath, pushing his hair off his forehead, glaring down at me before sitting up straight. “This woman is … mad! She mounted my horse and carried us off like—”
“Look inside his bag, sir,” I interrupted. “I assure you will find the items you are seeking.” I was out of breath, and my words were garbled. Lord Stanton seemed to understand, stepping toward the horse. I watched Mr. Parsons. His eyes flicked to mine as his hands slipped discreetly over the reins.
“No!” I screamed as he set the horse in motion, rearing back and then flying over the grass with ghostly speed. Lord Stanton fell to the ground, rolling away from the hooves that threatened to crush him. Lady Stanton rushed to his side.
“Who the devil is that man?” she shrieked.
“Your thief,” I said, slumping my shoulders in exhaustion and defeat. I made a sound of frustration as I watched Mr. Parsons’s retreating form, but remembered that I should also be relieved. Nicholas was safe. Mr. Parsons had just proven his own guilt. But there was still the item that had been found in Nicholas’s carriage …
“Are you well, miss?” I was not well. Mr. Parsons had escaped. I still didn’t know why Nicholas had rushed home. But I knew one thing for certain: Nicholas was not involved. I trusted him. I loved him. My heart confirmed the truth of my words, but it also reminded me of my inability to give Nicholas what he needed. He needed to marry a woman like Miss Hyatt, or rather, Mrs. Elkins. My brain hurt from thinking too much.
After explaining all I knew and suspected of Mr. Parsons—including that he had framed Nicholas with the other item found in his carriage—I proceeded back to Rosewood.
The carriage was taut with silence, and I didn’t try to break it. Kitty avoided my eyes and I avoided hers. Mr. Rossington stared out the windows, and Mrs. Tattershall looked at me occasionally, as if she were attempting to solve a puzzle. I didn’t want to be angry with Kitty, but she had thrown Nicholas under accusation, even though she knew I trusted him to be an honorable man. I closed my eyes and tried to shut off my thoughts.
But when we arrived at Rosewood, I couldn’t stop worrying over Nicholas. I almost sneaked out to see him, but no doubt Mrs. Tattershall would be keeping a close watch on my bedroom door for the rest of the night. She made certain that I arrived in my room, leading me by the elbow the entire way. When we stopped at my door, she pushed it open and watched me walk inside. Just before she closed it behind me, she cleared her throat. “You are a brave one, Miss Abbot. I am sorry if I have … thought little of you. I do hope Mr. Bancroft is well.”
She didn’t give me an opportunity to respond. The door closed and I was left alone with my thoughts.
TWENTY
It amazed me that I had managed to fall asleep at all. I awoke before the sun and decided to venture outside by the gardens. I picked several flowers and walked to the other side of Rosewood—the side bordering the Bancrofts’ home—and waited with my bouquet until a more appropriate hour for a visit. Mrs. Tattershall could not accuse me of anything but delivering flowers to an ill, lonely woman. If I happened to see Nicholas, then so be it. I needed to know what had happened last night and warn him of Mr. Parsons. I had been assured that there would be a search for Mr. Parsons, but I worried that he wouldn’t be found.
The early morning air was crisp and cool, biting through my shawl and scratching at my arms. A lone bird sang a song of joy, of daybreak and sunlight, a song I didn’t remember. Nicholas would not like me knocking on his door uninvited, but the last time I had done it he hadn’t been home. Perhaps now that I knew the truth he wouldn’t mind me st
opping by unannounced.
With a deep breath, I approached the door. Before I could reach it, however, I heard a sound from the other side of the house. It sounded like laughter, but I couldn’t be sure. With slow steps, I followed the sound to the back of the house where Nicholas and I had sat the day the pot had fallen from the window. I stopped.
The little red-haired boy—Simon, Nicholas had called him—sat on the grass with his legs crossed, pulling handfuls of grass out of the ground and tossing it into the air. I took a step closer to greet him, but his eyes flew up to mine first. He threw a handful of grass angrily in my direction before jumping to his feet and running toward the garden. I stood in surprise, brushing the grass from my skirts before following the boy silently, trying not to appear threatening. I saw Mrs. Bancroft’s sheet of black hair in the corner of my eye. Before I could move away, she was in front of me, her hands gripping my shoulders. My bundle of flowers fell to the ground. I smiled, willing myself to not be afraid. Her breath was short and quick as she studied me. I could clearly see every faint wrinkle of her face, every line of color in her eyes. She mumbled something I couldn’t hear. I waited. I was proud of how calm I felt, and when her grip finally loosened on my shoulders, I scooped my flowers up from the grass and held them out to her.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bancroft. It is Lucy. I remembered how much you love flowers.” My voice was too loud and friendly. I softened it slightly. “They would look quite pretty in your hair, I daresay. Would you like to see?” I selected the smallest flower, a delicate yellow, and threaded it behind her ear.
“Beautiful,” she whispered, raising one slender hand to touch the flower.
I smiled and nodded. “Take all of them,” I placed my bouquet in her other hand. She stared down at them, raising them to her nose and inhaling their scent. Simon ran across the grass toward the back door. Julia stood under the frame, eyeing me with displeasure as the boy reached her and clutched onto her hand.
Road to Rosewood Page 22
