Ellen looked at her averted face. ‘Now, Miss Perdita, don’t take on!’ she begged. ‘You have done all you can, giving that sheriff creature extra money and all that food.’
‘And we promised him more if he could make Louise more comfortable,’ Amy added.
‘I know it, but what can he do? The place is a shambles.’
‘It could be worse,’ Amy told her quietly. ‘Louise understands that they are not cruel people. They mean to be kind.’
‘But she is suffering so. It is hard indeed when she is innocent.’
‘Take heart, Perdita. For all we know, his lordship may have returned to Bath. He may be with Aunt Trixie even now. He will know what to do.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Perdita cried with feeling. ‘All else aside, he must be told what has happened.’
That fond hope was to be disappointed. Only Miss Langrishe awaited their return. She had not seen the Earl.
‘How is Louise?’ she asked at once. ‘Tell me how you found her! Is she well in health?’
‘I think so, but she is very low in spirits.’
‘Well, that is to be expected, my dears. She has her own room?’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ Perdita saw no point in explaining that it was little larger than a cupboard. Nor did she feel the need to mention the noise or the filthy conditions in the sheriff’s home. ‘Your gift of food was welcomed,’ she added. ‘The sheriff and his wife are very poor.’
‘You left money with them? It is the best incentive to take good care of a prisoner.’
Perdita hesitated, but Amy suffered no such inhibitions. ‘Perdita gave them all we had,’ she admitted.
Miss Langrishe reached into her reticule and found a key. ‘Unlock my desk, Perdita, and bring me one of the leather bags you find there.’
Perdita was about to hand it to her, but Miss Langrishe waved the bag aside. ‘Keep it!’ she said. ‘You will find enough in there to pay the gaoler when you go to Ilchester again.’
Perdita guessed that the bag was filled with golden guineas. ‘It is too much,’ she protested. ‘Aunt, it will worry me to be in charge of so much money.’
‘Then lock a part of it in your room. Won’t you let me salve my conscience in this small way? At this present time I feel distraught…I did not tell you earlier, as I had no wish to distress you, but this has happened before.’
Both girls stared at her. ‘You mean that another innocent person was accused?’ Perdita exclaimed.
‘It happened some years ago, to an elderly friend of mine. She too was accused of shoplifting here in Bath, and in the same way.’
‘The theft of lace? Why should that be, I wonder?’
‘Lace is expensive, Amy, and it is soft enough to be slipped quite easily into a lady’s reticule.’
‘Then this is just a copy of that crime?’
‘In a different shop, but clearly the story has not been forgotten.’
‘What happened to your friend?’
‘She was found to be innocent, but the months in custody had a sad effect upon her health. It took her years to recover.’ Miss Langrishe wiped away a tear.
Perdita took her hand. ‘My dear Aunt, don’t distress yourself. Louise is young. She will not suffer as an older person might. Let me write to the Earl again. My letter can’t have reached him.’
‘Will you do that, my dear?’ It was with a heavy heart that Miss Langrishe sought her bed that night. She had grown sadly aged in the past few days.
‘This isn’t helping Aunt Trixie.’ Amy commented. ‘I wish we could do more to help her. Another letter to the Earl must take some time to reach him.’
‘I don’t intend to wait,’ Perdita said decisively. ‘Amy, I must go to London.’
Amy brightened. ‘Yes, that is the answer. I’ll go with you. Aunt must see the sense of it.’
‘She is not to know in advance,’ Perdita warned. ‘She will either forbid it out of hand. Or insist that I take Ellen.’
‘But if we are together?’
‘I want you to stay here.’ She stilled Amy’s protest with a look. ‘Have you not noticed? Aunt’s gout is getting worse. Do stay with her, I beg of you. You can explain…’
‘But what do you intend to do?’
‘I’ll try to find the Earl. He lives in Berkeley Square, so I understand.’
‘But he may not be there. You can’t roam the streets of London unattended.’
‘I won’t do so. If all else fails, I shall go to Uncle Sebastian. He and Aunt Prudence will help us.’
‘But there is Thomas,’ Amy objected. ‘He can be a firebrand. He won’t hesitate to go to Ilchester and confront the sheriff. He’ll get himself arrested.’
‘I know that, goose, but Thomas may not be there. There was some talk of his regiment being sent to Manchester.’
‘I hope you are right, but what will you do if you can’t find Rushmore and our aunt and uncle have left for Cheshire, as they do at the end of each Season?’
‘Don’t be such a pessimist! I’ll come back to Bath, of course.’ Perdita smiled. ‘At least I won’t be short of money.’
‘No, but Aunt would have a fit it she knew that you were putting it to such use.’
‘That can’t be helped. It is in a good cause, and I’m sure that the Earl will repay her.’ At the thought of taking action Perdita felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She looked at her sister’s downcast face. ‘I wish that you could come with me, love, but you must handle matters here. We don’t know what may transpire in these next few days. Verreker may reappear and some further attempt be made at blackmail.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’ Amy’s eyes began to sparkle. ‘Let them try! They will have me to reckon with. When will you go, Perdita?’
‘As soon as may be. Tomorrow we must walk to the offices of the mail coach. I’ll buy a ticket and find out the times of departure. Now remember, no one must suspect.’
‘Ellen will be the greatest danger,’ Amy said slowly. ‘She knows us both so well.’
‘Then she must be diverted. I’ll send her to Aunt when we go out. Doubtless she will have a sovereign remedy for gout.’
The plan worked as Perdita hoped it would, and by noon on the following day she returned to Laura Place with a ticket for the London Mail Coach hidden in her reticule.
Chapter Twelve
Perdita left the house before first light on the following day, easing open her aunt’s front door with the utmost care.
She had taken the precaution of wearing her oldest cloak and bonnet, and as she hurried through the darkened streets she attracted no attention.
Now she blessed her aunt’s decision to live in Laura Place. It was but a short distant to the courtyard of the inn where the Mail Coach awaited passengers. Perdita was the first to arrive, so she chose to take a corner seat facing the front of the coach. The air was chill and she shivered as she awaited her fellow-travellers.
Hopefully, none of them would recognise her. A journey by public conveyance was not the most favoured method of transport for Miss Langrishe’s friends and acquaintances. Even so, she felt relieved when all the seats were taken by strangers.
It was still dark when the driver climbed aboard and gave his horses the office. They moved out slowly over the cobble-stones until they reached the outskirts of the city, where he urged them to greater speed.
Perdita was happy to discover that none of her companions felt disposed to talk at such an early hour. A young woman travelling alone must be sure to arouse unwelcome curiousity, and she had no wish to answer questions, however well meant. The driver already viewed her with suspicion. She had no luggage worthy of the name, and carried only a soft bag which held her night attire. She guessed correctly that he had no wish to be pursued by an irate father or brother, intent on removing the young lady from the coach.
Perdita shrugged. That would not happen. With luck it would be many hours before her absence was discovered, and far too late for her aunt to send anyone in pu
rsuit.
She tried to suppress a pang of conscience. Would Miss Langrishe realise that she was acting for the best? The thought of adding to her aunt’s worries was distressing, but the need to find the Earl of Rushmore must outweigh all other considerations.
She fell into a reverie, remembering that well-known smile and the twinkle in the dark eyes when he was amused. She sighed inwardly. His lordship would find little to amuse him in her news. He had promised to make enquiries about the loathsome Matthew Verreker. If only he had managed to discover some information which might be laid with the authorities, so that the creature might be prosecuted. With any luck the man could be transported to Australia or some such place, where he would be incapable of doing further harm.
Lost in thought, she was unaware that the growing light of day had revealed the faces of all the other occupants of the carriage. At last she realised that she was under scrutiny from a burly man who sat immediately opposite. He leaned forward to address the woman beside her.
‘Do you care to travel forward, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘You may take my seat if you prefer to ride with your back to the horses.’
The woman favoured him with a long look. Then she transferred her gaze to Perdita. ‘No, thank you, sir,’ she said with an ironic smile. ‘I am quite comfortable in this seat.’
The man nodded, but he continued to stare at Perdita. The pretty little chit was quite an armful, and she seemed to have no male protector with her. His curiosity aroused, he began to wonder about her. Was she seeking a position in London? There might be some opportunity for him there. On the other hand, her manner and her clothing suggested that she was a lady. Perhaps she was running away. He could still offer to be of service to her.
Perdita stirred uncomfortably. He was making her nervous. She was tempted to give him a downing stare. Instead she closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, wishing that she had chosen a bonnet with a larger brim, which would have hidden more of her face.
Thank heavens the woman beside her had refused to give up her seat. How hateful it would have been to have the man in close proximity, doubtless with his legs and arms pressed against her own.
Her suspicions were confirmed at the first halt. She was the last to descend from the coach, and she found him waiting beside the steps.
He bowed. ‘May I offer you some refreshment against the morning chill, miss?’
Before she could reply, the older woman stepped in front of her. ‘This young lady is with me,’ she said without preamble. ‘She does not speak to strangers.’
The man backed away with a muttered apology, and as he walked off Perdita was amused to see that the backs of his ears were red with embarrassment.
The woman shared her enjoyment. ‘There are some as never misses a chance to make a nuisance of themselves,’ she announced.
‘I have to thank you, ma’am. I must hope he will take you at your word. He was making me uncomfortable.’
‘Ignore him, miss. He won’t come near you again, else he’ll feel the weight of my arm.’ The woman chuckled as she hefted a well-filled basket as if it were a feather. ‘I’ve seen the likes of him before, especially on this run. Sometimes I think they makes the journey just to pick up solitary maids. Shall you be wanting refreshment, my dear?’
‘No, thank you, but—’
‘I know. You’ll be wanting to make yourself comfortable. Come along with me. I’ll show you where to go.’
When they returned to board the coach, Perdita was glad to find that her tormentor had exchanged his seat inside the coach for one upon the roof.
‘There now, that’s better!’ her rescuer announced. ‘The cold wind will chill his ardour.’ She laughed heartily.
Perdita thanked her once again. ‘Do you make this journey often, ma’am?’ she asked.
‘As often as I can, miss. I visit my son in London town. ’Tis hard to live so far away when I have grandchildren waiting to see their Nan, but we are farming folk. ’Tis difficult to leave the work.’
‘How old are the children and what are their names?’ Perdita’s question was enough to set her companion off upon what was clearly a favourite topic. In the next few hours she learned all there was to know about the little family in London.
‘There now, I’m rattling on as usual,’ the woman said at last. ‘It’s my besetting sin. Your ears must be ringing with my chatter.’
‘It’s a pleasure to hear of such a happy family,’ Perdita said with conviction. ‘I miss my parents so much. My father is a naval man, and they are away at sea.’
‘So you are alone?’
‘Oh, no, I have an aunt in Bath, and my sister is staying with her.’ For a moment Perdita wondered if she were saying too much, but instinct told her that the farmer’s wife was to be trusted. ‘I also have relatives in London.’
‘You are going to them?’
‘Well, yes…but not at first, perhaps.’ Perdita spoke with a confidence she was far from feeling, and after a brief glance at her face, her companion changed the subject, and lifted the heavy basket onto her knee.
‘We had best eat now,’ she said. ‘Will you join me, miss?’
Perdita hesitated. ‘Ma’am, I would not rob you of your vittles.’
This brought a chuckle from her companion. ‘Bless you, there’s enough to feed an army,’ she announced. ‘I make nothing of going short.’
When she opened her basket, Perdita realised that her friend had not exaggerated. Home-made crusty bread nestled alongside a fat cheese. A cold cooked chicken helped to fill the basket, as did part of a ham, and hard-boiled eggs were tucked into any available space. The woman handed Perdita a snowy napkin.
‘Eat hearty!’ she advised. ‘There’s nothing like good food for keeping up your strength.’
Perdita needed no further encouragement. The sight of the food made her realise that she was very hungry. Not a bite had passed her lips since dinner on the previous day. She removed her gloves, picked up the napkin and set about a piece of chicken with relish.
‘I should have thought of this myself,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose I imagined that we’d be fed at the wayside inns where we stop to bait the horses.’
Her companion sniffed. ‘There’s no telling what you’d get. Sometimes the food is poor and pricey with it. Then, if the coach is running late, the driver don’t give you time to eat.’ She cut a generous slice of ham and handed it to Perdita on a slice of bread.
‘You are very kind, ma’am. After all, you do not know me. My name is Perdita Wentworth. May I know yours?’
‘I’m Bessie Griffin, miss. Aside from all else, my dear, it would not do for you to eat alone in a public dining-room. You’ve seen what can happen…’ She jerked her head upwards to remind Perdita of the passenger outside.
Perdita looked away. ‘You must think it strange for me to be travelling on my own,’ she said at last. ‘Believe me, the matter is urgent, else I should not have done so. I must find Rushmore.’
‘Now, miss, don’t cross your bridges before you come to them. For all you know, you may be in the gentleman’s company before the day is out.’
‘Oh, I do hope so,’ Perdita said with feeling. ‘He will make everything right again, I know it.’
Something in her tone brought the older woman’s eyes back to her face and she smiled to herself. She knew the signs of a woman in love. She hoped with all her heart that the gentleman felt the same.
Their arrival in London was greeted with sighs of relief from all the occupants of the coach. The outside passengers were cold and windswept, whilst those inside were suffering from stiff limbs after their lengthy journey.
Perdita helped her companion down the steps. Then she stepped aside as the woman was greeted by a stocky young man who was the living image of his mother.
‘No, miss, don’t you wander off now!’ Mrs Griffin extricated herself from her son’s embrace. ‘You’ll be needing a hackney cab. Be quick and see to it, Ned.’
Ned was quick to obe
y his mother’s wishes, but Mrs Griffin was not satisfied. ‘Where to?’ she asked Perdita.
The address brought a smile of satisfaction to the jarvey’s lips. Only the quality lived in Berkeley Square, and it appeared that the young lady was to be his only passenger. His plans to charge her at least double the usual fare were soon destroyed.
‘How much?’ Mrs Griffin demanded.
The martial light in her eyes caused him to revise his estimate, but she brushed it aside with scorn.
‘Highway robbery!’ she announced. ‘Ned, go and find another cab—’
‘Nay, ma’am, don’t take up a man so fast. Seeing that the young lady is alone, I’ll make a special price for her.’
He tried to hold out for his price, but he was no match for Mrs Griffin and found himself agreeing to a fare which he considered an insult. Damn these country bumpkins. Sometimes their cunning could outwit his own.
Ned handed Perdita into the cab.
‘Now don’t you go paying this thief a penny more,’ Mrs Griffin advised. ‘I know his face. I’ll have the law on him.’
Perdita was strongly tempted to giggle at the dejected appearance of her driver. How Amy would have enjoyed meeting Mrs Griffin. She leaned from the window of the cab, holding out her hand.
‘May I call to see you, ma’am, when I return to Bath?’
‘No call for that, Miss Wentworth. Still and all, I shall be glad to see you. You’ll find us at Bluebell Farm.’
She waited until Perdita’s cab had disappeared from sight. Then she took her son’s arm and walked away.
Suddenly Perdita’s confidence deserted her. She felt very much alone. Suppose his lordship should be away from home? It was with a sigh of relief that she saw the knocker still on the door. Rushmore must be in residence.
She paid off her dispirited driver, walked up the steps, and lifted the knocker. The door opened almost at once, and she was confronted by a stately individual in full livery.
‘Yes, madam? May I help you?’ the man asked politely.
Perdita summoned up her courage. ‘I must see the Earl of Rushmore,’ she announced. ‘Is he at home?’
The Rebellious Debutante Page 20
