“What?” cried Lucy, aghast.
“Did I not mention that part?” the ghost asked with a small shrug. “I am sorry, child, but my poor head is all abuzz with plots and counterplots, and I have always been a sorry goosecap when it comes to details. Yes, the transaction will apparently take place at the end of the week. But at least you and Selinda will have some time to yourselves, for the pair will be leaving for the country to oversee the exchange in a day or two. All you will have to do is find a way to evade that Snypish creature. Now, I believe I shall take myself belowstairs and see if I can learn anything more from the servants’ chatter.”
As the ghost faded, so, too, did Lucy’s brave demeanor, which she had struggled valiantly to maintain. Suspecting foul play was easier (and far more exciting) than finding out for certain that evil intentions indeed existed. But it was the prospect of losing Darrowdean, the only home Lucy had ever known and the one place that represented happy times and security that at last overset her completely. Lucy closed her eyes and, immediately, pictures came to mind: the bright airy nursery, her little blue pony cart, the pond where she and Selinda waded in the heat of summer, the library where the sisters had so often shared their favorite books. She realized her parents were gone forever, but she had not dreamed Darrowdean would disappear as well. In the fading warmth of the October sunshine, Lucy cried as if her heart would break.
* * * *
As Waverly waited for his cousin to ready himself for their outing, he wondered if he ought not to feel a little guilty for his prevarication. He had, of course, not the least intention of allowing the profligate marquess to do more than bow to Selinda before he fobbed him off on Miss Snypish. It was not, he told himself, the act of one gentleman toward another. Not that his cousin qualified for that title, naturally. Actually, he mused, it was really more an expedient measure of misleading one villain with another with the hope of serving a damsel in distress. That, surely, must settle the score. No, two wrongs don’t make a right, he told himself sternly. And yet, neither would it do for Lady Selinda to languish under the repression of her gruesome family for the sake of tired convention. If things fell out awkwardly for his cousin, why, he would make it up to him. Not, he told himself as he looked ruefully about at the lavish apartment furnished almost entirely at his own expense, that Bastion didn’t already owe him a staggering amount.
The Marquess of Bastion lost little time in preparing himself to accompany Lord Waverly to call at Harroweby House. As Bastion tied his cravat, he could not help but smile at the way his cousin had so stupidly fallen into serving a purpose of which he had no clue. Ah, Lady Selinda—bed her or wed her, he had told Slaverington. Either was a happy prospect, indeed. Humming to himself, he finished the knot in his cravat with a flourish and began to feel himself quite clever.
Once this toilette was completed, the cousins proceeded to their destination in Waverly’s elegant barouche. They stopped briefly at the flower vendor’s cart and soon presented themselves at the door of Harroweby House, nosegays in hand.
Waverly applied the doorknocker and they waited. Soon, Waverly was forced to knock again. Whatever else was awry at Harroweby House, it was clear that the staff was none too efficient. He was about to knock a third time when at last the door was opened by a diminutive person with a tear-stained face.
“I am most sorry,” the child apologized with an eloquent sniff, “but I am afraid I do not know where the butler has gone off to.”
Not knowing quite what else to do, Lord Waverly presented Lucy with his card. “We have called to pay our respects to Lady Selinda and Miss Snypish. Are they within?”
Lucy examined the card she held carefully and looked up appraisingly at its smiling owner. “They are neither of them in just now, I’m afraid.”
“Well, that settles it,” said Bastion with a disappointed sigh. It seemed he had arisen from his bed for naught. Carelessly tossing his card at Lucy and a shrug at Waverly, he turned to go. “Well, I’m off, Cousin. Here, halfling, see that the ladies get their flowers. Waverly, give the brat a farthing, there’s a good chap. Try again tomorrow, shall we? I’m off to my club.”
With that, the marquess sauntered away, leaving Waverly and the child looking after his retreating form. “Well,” Lucy pronounced at last, “there goes a villain and no mistake.”
“I beg your pardon,” Waverly exclaimed, stooping down to the little girl’s level. “I had no idea! Are you acquainted with my cousin?”
“Oh, my!” Lucy cried out in sudden chagrin, covering her now crimson cheeks with her pinafore. “I beg your pardon, indeed. I did not mean to speak that aloud. No, I do not know the gentleman, and that was a very forward thing for me to say.”
“It was, however, an amazingly accurate statement,” he acknowledged with a slight bow. “May I present myself? I am Lord Waverly, and you, my dear, are . .. ?”
“Oh, I am just Lucy,” she told him with a sad little sigh. “Lady Lucy Harroweby, I suppose, although no one here ever calls me that.”
“You are Lady Selinda’s sister then? I wonder .. “ he mused. Then he looked closely at her. It did not take a great intellect to see that the child had been interrupted in the middle of a good cry. Waverly pulled out his pocket handkerchief and gravely handed it to her; she accepted it with an uneven grin, dabbing at the corners other eyes and wiping her nose before handing it back.
“Won’t you please come in? I do not know for certain, but Selinda may return before too long. What’s more,” Lucy whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “I have an idea where the sherry’s kept if you should be wanting some.”
“I have a better idea, Lady Lucy,” Waverly preempted, suppressing a smile of amusement. “What would you say to a trip to Gunter’s for some cakes and ices? Do you think it at all possible?”
Lucy thought for a moment. From what Lady Sybil had just told her it was clear that she had best be forming alliances as quickly as ever she could, regardless of the risks. It was doubtful, she reasoned, that either Aunt Prudence or Rupert would inquire after her: that was Miss Snypish’s territory. Besides, she had an exceedingly good feeling about this gentleman; in fact, quite the opposite of the impression she had had of his cousin. A rare benevolence and humor radiated from him that she quite liked. By way of reply, Lucy pulled shut the door behind her and confided, “As long as we return by the back gate, I doubt any shall note my absence.”
Chapter Ten
Although Lucy was enjoying the excursion to Gunter’s more than she had anything in a very long time, she was also busily directing her mental energies toward trying to read further the character of Lord Waverly. Their ride in his barouche had been beyond anything, for Lucy had not yet been able to see any of the sights of London. Although she was a garrulous child who would normally have bubbled over with conversation, she nevertheless sat prim and subdued, for she was quite aware that her presence beside him in her plain little gown and pinafore had caused a number of fashionable heads to turn. Quizzing glasses had been raised and fans tittered into, but Lord Waverly merely smiled and nodded affably to them, and continued to point out various interesting landmarks to Lucy as if there were nothing in the least untoward about her presence. This behavior alone weighed heavily in his favor.
At Gunter’s, Lord Waverly had ordered ices, lemonade, and a large tray of cakes for both of them and seemed to enjoy the repast as much as she did.
Lucy, keenly aware of Selinda’s and her own predicament, decided at last that prudence had best give way to practicality and evidence to intuition. After Lucy had savored the last bit of raspberry ice, she took a deep breath and began, “I hope you will not think me too forward, Lord Waverly, but I must confide in someone and you have a face which instills confidence.”
Relieved and intrigued, Waverly leaned forward and took her small hand in his, “I must say, you are no ordinary little girl, are you, Lady Lucy?”
Lucy giggled. “Not in the least. For one, I am very intelligent.”
; “That much is plain,” he told her with a puzzled smile, “but it’s a good deal more than that, I am sure. Well, you may tell me anything you please, Lady Lucy, and trust that I shall do my utmost to help you. Might I suggest, however, that we remove ourselves and conduct this, discussion in the privacy of my barouche?”
Lucy at once recognized the wisdom of this counsel, and before long they were riding along the London streets once more.
“I could not help but notice at your sister’s ball,” Waverly began tentatively, “that things seemed rather oddly sorted.”
“You may well say so, Lord Waverly, and what’s more, I have just found out they are much worse than I ever imagined.” With that, Lucy launched into a detailed description of their woes, beginning with her parents’ deaths and ending with the shocking revelations to which she had been privy that morning. Quite naturally, she felt obliged to leave out all mention of Lady Sybil’s spectral assistance, but was a little surprised when Lord Waverly leaned over and took a close look at her ears through his quizzing glass.
“Why, how very odd! These seem to me to be quite ordinary ears,” he remarked in a serious tone. “After what you have just told me, though, I had rather thought they might be shaped like keyholes!”
“Keyholes!” Lucy exclaimed indignantly. “Why, you never think I would deliberately eavesdrop do you?”
Waverly raised a skeptical eyebrow as Lucy colored, not quite knowing how to explain herself. She did not wish to tell an out-and-out plumper to her new friend and decided instead to allow a half-truth to be misinterpreted.
“Well,” she finally managed after some deliberation, “when a person is of my size, their presence in a room is sometimes not noted. I am sure you would be quite amazed, Lord Waverly, at the sorts of things people say right in front of children without the least notion of their hearing, much less understanding. It is little wonder we know almost as much as the servants!”
“And a very good thing that is, I must say, Lady Lucy!” Waverly declared. “Mind you, I do not disapprove of your taking advantage of whatever information comes your way. Quite the contrary, to be sure. I must apologize for teasing you just now, but you looked so sorrowful I could not bear to see it. Give me a little smile now, for your fortunes are about to change.”
In her heart, Lucy felt that he was right, and, although she was not at all certain how these changes might be accomplished. Lord Waverly looked to her like a capable sort. While she was extremely gratified by Lady Sybil’s efforts, she felt much better having had the opportunity to share her troubles with someone who might be able to take action outside of Harroweby House.
“As you say,” Waverly went on meditatively, “there is not much time if the sale of your country estate is to be transacted so soon. Your guardians seem like a greedy pair, however, and that must mean they can be manipulated. I shall send my man of business, Mr. Noon, to Darrowdean to counter whatever offer has been made. I imagine there is an inn nearby from which he can direct our affairs?”
“The Golden Hour is generally considered best,” Lucy told him. “I say, that is rare—Mr. Noon at The Golden Hour. It must be meant to be!”
“I daresay,” Lord Waverly smiled at her. “He is an invaluable man, for he knows the ins and outs of all sorts of matters I have never bothered to consider. We shall see what he can do to thwart your enemies. Perhaps he could initiate a bidding war on the property. That would keep them occupied a bit longer in the country and afford us some time to maneuver. We need to gather enough evidence to present before the magistrate.”
At this, Lucy heaved a huge sigh of relief, but, almost as quickly, her features darkened again as she realized that Rupert’s advances had made it necessary to act even more quickly than that. Waverly looked at her sharply. “Come now, Lady Lucy. What is it you are not telling me?” he asked pointedly.
Lucy looked at him warily. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust his Lordship—indeed quite the opposite—but no one must ever know about the shameful episode in Rupert’s chamber. She was not, of course, quite sure exactly what had transpired, but her instinct told her that whatever Rupert had attempted was beyond contempt. “It’s just a feeling I have, “she replied cautiously.
“Yes?” Waverly pursued.
“Well, Rupert...” She stopped herself abruptly. How could she begin to tell anything without telling all? “I worry that Rupert…”
“What about Rupert?”
“Well, Selinda is so helpless ...”
“You worry that loathsome slug will make advances?” Waverly queried, his jaw tightening with a rage quite alien to him.
“Well,” Lucy faltered helplessly, “I know he is a villain without principle and Selinda is a beauty without protection.”
“No longer without protection, my dear,” Waverly told her earnestly. “I shall see to that.”
He had fallen in love with her, Lucy realized with sudden clarity. But so quickly she wondered? On the other hand, she reasoned loyally, how could he have helped it?
“Tell me about your sister,” Waverly said quietly after a time.
“There is no one in the world like her,” Lucy replied in reverent tones. “She is so beautiful and kind and amusing, but that’s not all. She is so very brave, too. When Prudence and Rupert first arrived—I shall never forget it. They marched into Darrowdean with that detestable Basham on their heels. I didn’t like the look of him from the very start. Indeed, I wonder how our father came to engage him. Well, you’ve seen Aunt Prudence and Rupert, so you know how horrible it must have been. But Selinda protected me from them, for I’ve such a tongue as you would not believe! But she stood between me and them, and even slapped Aunt Prudence once when she tried to cane me for calling her a fat-headed cow. Which she is!”
“Is what?”
“A fat-headed cow, of course! And for that, Selinda and I were locked in our rooms for three days with nothing but dry bread and water. I learned my lesson then. If Selinda was to suffer for my witlessness, I would have to learn to curb it. And so I have,” she concluded, her chin uplifted resolutely and her lips set.
While Lucy delivered this narrative. Lord Waverly felt himself growing more and more outraged. Hanging was too good for these rogues. It would have to be Australia! Moreover, he had thought his endeavor would merely be to find a way to court Lady Selinda and win her affection, but it was exceedingly clear now that a rescue was to be in order and quickly, too.
When Lord Waverly finally returned Lucy to her home (by the back entrance, of course), he bent for a moment over her small hand, then said, “I do not like to leave you like this, Lady Lucy. I shall try to call again tomorrow, but promise me that if anything untoward should happen or if your fears on your own or your sister’s behalf should worsen, you will find some way of letting me know. I imagine we can devise some sort of signal. Let me think half a moment.”
Lucy looked about her at the grounds. They were a little overgrown from their recent neglect, and the weeds poked impudently through the wrought-iron gate. “Is there a place I could hide a note back here, do you think?”
Waverly, too, began to look about. There were two stone pillars on either side of the gate upon which ivy had begun to entwine itself. “I suppose you could secrete a note within the vines here,” he mused, “and I could contrive to check each day.”
“I have a better plan,” Lucy told him. “I’m afraid that the servants might remark the presence of a person such as yourself and tell Aunt Prudence. Our chamber window faces the front of the house. It’s the last window on the third story. On the right as you face the house. If I have a message for you, I shall put some of these yellow asters in a vase and set it on the sill. That way, all you will have to do is ride by.”
“A capital idea, Lucy,” Waverly congratulated her. “Is there anything else I’ve overlooked?”
“What about rain?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “The weather has been fine of late, but I fear the damp season is not far distant.”
“You’re right, of course,” Waverly nodded. “This is, after all, England. Perhaps I could set an oilskin pouch here later today for your use.”
“Very good!” Lucy exclaimed. “You know, I begin to believe you will become an excellent intriguer before too long, sir.”
“Do you think you will have any difficulty getting out of the house? You say you’re watched quite closely.”
Lucy thought a moment. “That could indeed be a problem. If it is, though, I shall just have to slip out before anyone else has arisen or after they’ve all gone to bed.”
These arrangements made, Waverly departed, reflecting he had become a part of a most fascinating conspiracy, indeed, and had made the acquaintance of a most remarkable young lady.
* * * *
All this while, Selinda’s efforts had been engaged in the extremely exhausting pursuit of attempting to find a single color among the vast array offered at the modiste’s that suited Miss Snypish’s sallow coloring. At the same time, she endeavored to keep her wits tuned to any opportunity that might be turned to her favor on this rare outing. She had visited the shop in Bond Street on but one other occasion several years earlier, and, now, with a sinking heart, saw no one whom she recognized. Again and again her eyes looked hopefully into the face of one or another passerby, but she spotted no one even vaguely familiar. Their visit was, of course, unstylishly early in the day, but Selinda held out some small hope that someone known to her would soon enter the shop.
Her late mother’s modiste, Madame Claire, had been among the most sought after in London, and Selinda had at first worried that Miss Snypish might bolt at the prospect of the extreme prices charged there. However, when she happened to glance into that lady’s bulky reticule and spied a roll of bank notes the size of a three-volume novel, her fears on that count were stilled, while at the same time others were engendered.
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