The Hopeless Hoyden

by Bennett, Margaret

  “Good night, Freddy. See you in the morning."

  As Emily turned toward her room, Freddy impulsively bent down and bussed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Em," he said, and sauntered down the hall.

  Momentarily stunned, Emily stared after the baron's rotund figure until he entered his room. As she was turning back to her own chamber, a second door clicked shut. She spun around, her eyes trying to pierce the gloom.

  Now who was spying on them, she wondered.

  ###

  While the warm, sunny weather held, everyone looked forward to an excursion including an alfresco lunch at the ruins of Hailes Abbey. Again, the two older ladies saw no need to chaperone the group. Lady Raines could find nothing stimulating in visiting a pile of crumbling rocks, and Lady Spivey felt she could relax her vigil now that Emily was engaged.

  “Prudence is such a good girl," Aunt Esmeralda postulated. “The dear girl has never been one to cause the least trouble. And besides, what sort of mischief could Emily get into on such an innocuous outing."

  While Pickering oversaw the loading of a cart with servants, silver, plate and an elaborate luncheon to be sent ahead to the Abbey grounds, Gabriel stood in the stable yard, watching Gresham and the grooms mount his guests.

  Gabriel was anxious to see Emily. He'd been worried about her since Cecil's nasty tongue had precipitated her retiring early. When he went to bed, Gabriel half expected his beloved would be lying in wait for him and was acutely disappointed that she wasn't.

  He glanced over to where Emily stood with Freddy in deep discussion and was about to ask those two what was forward when Sylvia slipped her arm through his, neatly trapping him by her side. Though Gabriel was heartily sick of the blond beauty, good manners demanded he play the attentive host. Besides, he thought, his betrothed didn't seem at all bothered by Sylvia's interest in him.

  Emily espied Sylvia tripping over to Gabriel. After the last couple of days, Emily wanted nothing more than to plant the girl a facer. Unfortunately, she couldn't desert Freddy, not when he'd begged her to stay by his side and shield him from his nemesis, Deborah Caldwell. What the baron feared from Deborah in the light of day was beyond Emily's ken.

  Still, Emily understood that Sylvia still harbored hopes of becoming Gabriel's viscountess. And Emily recalled that more than one debutante in London had stated that nothing was a fait accompli until the actual vows were said. Or, as one crusty old gent once crudely put it, "There is many a slip betwixt the lip and the troth,". . . or something akin to that.

  “Thanks, Em." Freddy said for the umpteenth time.

  Emily glanced over at Freddy. “Best not to say anything more about it, Freddy."

  Once everyone was mounted, the baron drew his mount up with Ellison’s. Emily soon found herself riding behind the others where Jane fell back to join her. As they rode through the countryside, Emily kept up a steady flow of chatter about the occupants of the farms and tenant cottages they passed. After a while, she noted Jane's reticence and subsided into a companionable silence, content to enjoy the scenery with her friend at her side.

  A short while later, Jane, who'd been eying the group ahead of them, turned to Emily. “Are you familiar with Shakespeare’s Hamlet.” When Emily nodded, Jane said, “Well, I feel like Rosencrantz or Guildenstern in that play. Sylvia instructed me to keep an eye on you and the Viscount. So you see, I cannot share any confidences with you. I am to report every detail of what you do and say back to her."

  “Is that why you have been talking to me lately?" At Jane's stricken look, Emily produced a devilish grin. “Well, it would be a shame to disappoint Sylvia." And with that, Emily merrily began to spin tale after tale of romantic rendezvous with a besotted Viscount, first behind the drapery in the library, then a late night meeting in the kitchen with glasses of warm milk where they supposedly discussed her role as mistress of five different estates (though Emily was quick to confide she had no idea of the extent of Gabriel's holdings, purely for Jane's edification).

  But what sent Jane into gales of laughter was Emily's recount of a late night encounter with the Viscount in his study to shift though the family jewels, locked in a box the size of a treasure chest.

  “That ought to make the cat turn green," Emily concluded, glad to see her friend's dismals replaced with mirth. But while Emily laughed with Jane, her heart ached, knowing that her tale tales would never have a chance of becoming truths.

  At the ruins, the party discovered a collation of cold cuts, cheeses and breads with jugs of lemonade and wine already set out by the servants. While the grooms tended the horses, the party situated itself on quilts spread upon a grassy knoll. When Gabriel pointedly singled Emily out to sit by her, she became aware of Sylvia's malevolent stare.

  Suddenly Emily felt depressed, for it appeared everyone, including herself, was playacting. Thus, at the first opportunity when Gabriel was engaged in conversation with Chesterfield, Emily excused herself to explore the grounds of the once magnificent abbey.

  Emily never tired of visiting the ruins and the seventeen cloister arches of Hailes Abbey. She climbed to the top of one stone arch that once stood as part of a covered walkway and gazed down on the rough foundation of limestone quarried from the area. It was easy for Emily, centuries later, to envision rows of cowled monks, noiselessly traversing the covered walks to vespers.

  “At one time, this ancient relic was probably a sight to behold even for a jaded pallet like mine," Cecil said, coming up behind her.

  Emily had been unaware of Cecil's ascent up the mound of stone arch. His mere presence cast a pall over the serene scene, desecrating it in some way. Still, she made an effort to be polite.

  “Yes, what a shame it was destroyed."

  “Do you think so? I thought Henry VIII rather tardy in starting the Dissolution of the Monasteries. After all, what good could all those treasures be to monks who'd taken a vow of poverty?"

  “Do you not remember why this abbey was built?"

  “Indeed, it was Richard, King of the Romans, Earl of Cornwall, and brother of Henry III, who built the abbey in keeping with a vow he'd made when he thought the ship he sailed would sink off the Sicily Isles. ‘Tis no more than another example of some wretched soul trying to buy his way into heaven."

  “I fear you are much too cynical."

  “I prefer to see myself as being more honest than most," Cecil countered with an odd smile. “The only ones who truly benefited from Richard's folly were the peasants who looted the abbey of its stone and used it to build their homes."

  “Perhaps," she replied, not wanting to argue. She gingerly stepped around him to make her way down the craggy, makeshift stairs.

  The arch was barely two feet wide, and Emily was concentrating on her descent. Cecil, who remained a mere step behind her, stepped on the train of her habit, throwing her off balance.

  She made a desperate attempt to turn and clutch at something, anything, to save herself. Then, a blow to the small of her back propelled her forward.

  Arms failing, she pivoted on her toes, trying to regain her balance, and saw Cecil in her peripheral vision, retreating a step toward the top of the arch. She reached out. The fingers of one hand snagged the hem of Cecil's jacket, and she clung for dear life. Her weight, however, pitched him forward. For a moment it looked like both of them would tumbled to their deaths. But Cecil regained his footing. Rearing back on his heels, he took her arm and brought her back with him.

  Once safe, Cecil tried to pry Emily's hand loose while shoving her toward the ledge. Emily fought desperately to ward him off. She threw a punch with her other hand, which connected with his face. Cecil appeared stunned and lost his balance. Together, they toppled backwards in a heap on the narrow stone crest.

  “Emily!" Gabriel shouted.

  It seemed to Emily he must have hurtled the pile of stone steps, for Gabriel was instantly kneeling beside her, tenderly gathering her up in his arms. “Emily, are you hurt?"

  Shaken and not a little breathle
ss, Emily shook her head. "No, I do not think so. But. . . but Cecil . . ." Her words became muffled against Gabriel's chest as he crushed her to him, and she ceased trying to explain Cecil's attack. Instead, the soothing caress of his hand against her back and the feel of the hard wall of muscle that was his chest comforted her like no healing balm could. She breathed in a mixture of his male scent, sandalwood cologne and a little horse.

  A few moments passed before she heard Cecil behind her. . . growling? Glancing over Gabriel's shoulder, she saw him sitting on a jagged block of limestone, holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose. He emitted a low guttural growl while glowering at her.

  “You bloody bitch," he snarled. “You broke my nose."

  ###

  “She broke his nose," Old Doc Larson pronounced, walking into the drawing room.

  “Oh, the unnatural girl," groaned Aunt Esmeralda before raising a crystal goblet to her lips for a bracing gulp.

  Emily sat mortified with everyone's eyes trained on her. Curiously enough, Gabriel, who shared the sofa with her, seemed to be regarding her with grudging respect. He reached over for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Don't take it so hard, Emily," Gabriel said. “It was a small price for my cousin to pay if it kept you from falling to your death."

  Aunt Esmeralda shook her head. “Would have been much better for my constitution. The girl doesn’t even have the decency to spend the rest of the day in her bed, recuperating from such a fall," she muttered before burying her face in the glass of sherry again.

  “What was that, Lady Spivey?" Gabriel asked while rising from the couch and moving to a side table with a decanter and several glasses.

  Lady Spivey turned a wary eye on Gabriel as a flush colored her pale cheeks. “Er, will the poor man get better?"

  “It's not so grievous an injury," Doc Larson answered, accepting a brandy from Gabriel. "He'll be a bit uncomfortable for a few days, swollen beak and all. Eyes are already blackening, but nothing more."

  Glancing at Emily, the old doctor laughed and shook his head. “I'll say this for you, Emily Pendleton. You've always had a good right hook. Why, I remember the time Rufus Banks tried to kiss you behind the church after Sunday service. You weren't but a mite then. Remember?"

  “No, please," Emily groaned, holding up her hand as if that would stop the old gentleman from telling his tale. Oh, how she remembered! But the portly physician blithely ignored her plea and launched into describing another of her infamous exploits.

  Lowering her lashes, Emily covertly peered at her aunt, the sherry glass held to her lips, sipping away her embarrassment. Then, Emily slewed her eyes toward Gabriel. Standing by the fireplace, one foot propped on the fender with an arm draped across the mantle, he presented a cool persona.

  Emily wished the floor would open under her and swallow her up. She'd been on her best behavior, trying so hard to act the lady, all to impress Gabriel, and now this. Making her disgrace complete, the room at large seemed spellbound by Doc Larson's recital. Then she saw Gabriel smiling at her--and his wink.

  Gabriel didn't seem to mind her hoydenish ways. In truth, Emily felt confident he would agree with her actions once she told him the whole of how his cousin tried to push her to her death. For now, his encouragement was enough to get her through this ordeal.

  If only Doc Larson wasn't so thoroughly enjoying regaling the others with that old story.

  “'Course, Rufus was a regular bully, dragging her off behind the church like that. But Emily fixed him good with that got right hook of hers. Broke his nose, too."

  “Great show, Em!" bellowed Freddy, slapping a hand against his pudgy knee.

  Aunt Esmeralda slumped against the back of her chair, now holding her sherry with both hands as it rested on her chest. “Merciful heavens, save us!"

  “Rufus did have it coming." Tom offered in his sister’s defense to Prudence, who was staring open-mouthed at Emily.

  Emily's face burned as she glanced around the drawing room. Jane appeared to be the only female who wasn't shocked or deriving derisive enjoyment at Emily's expense from the tale.

  “What else would you expect," Lady Raines sniffed snidely over Sylvia and Deborah's chortling.

  The gentlemen as a whole considered the story vastly amusing. Chesterfield and Freddy expressed the ludicrous wish to see Emily go up against Gentleman Jack, himself. Worst yet, Doc Larson and Gabriel were still guffawing, the latter so hard that tears came to his eyes.

  ###

  No one was surprised when Cecil didn't put in an appearance that evening. Deborah continued to give Emily the cold shoulder, almost to the point of cutting her altogether. Sylvia, of course, claimed most of Gabriel's attention. Emily would have felt shunned except for her friend Jane Taber who stuck by her side.

  Aunt Esmeralda also missed dinner and requested Prudence remain by her bedside. Though her, Lady Spivey sent word that she had the megrims. Emily was less charitable describing her aunt's ailment to Jane.

  “More likely, the old girl is laid up because she shot the cat this afternoon."

  Jane found this exceedingly funny, but after her giggles subsided, she turned serious. “I know the Caldwells are to become your family, Emily, but one cannot help to notice how uncharitably they act toward you. I hope you will forgive me when I say I find it extremely difficult to like Cecil or his sister."

  “You surprise me, Jane?" Emily couldn't resist the devilish impulse to tease. “I pictured you as a saint who loved even the lowliest of creatures."

  “Please do not make fun, Emily," Jane replied with a troubled expression.

  “I am sorry. It is beastly of me to tease you. And you are quite right not to trust either one of them." Emily paused for a moment, thoughtfully observing her friend, wondering if she should share with Jane what had actually happened at Hailes Abbey. Thinking better of it, she decided to tackle another disturbing matter. "Jane, do you care for Freddy?"

  Taken off guard, Jane blushed crimson and stammered, “He...he is a true gentleman. One can not help but to like him."

  “Yes, he is that," Emily conceded. "However, I meant romantically."

  “We would not suit," Jane blurted out and rose to leave when Emily grabbed the sleeve of her gown.

  “Please, Jane, don’t take offense. I know it is the height of rudeness to ask such a question. Still, I need to know."

  “Whatever for?"

  How much could she tell Jane, Emily mused, conscious of the fact that, if she let too much out, Freddy could still find himself leg-shackled to the conniving Deborah. “Well, lately Deborah seems to have set her cap for him."

  “Why would Miss Caldwell be singling out Freddy, er, Baron Fordyce? Not that he isn’t worthy of such attention." Jane’s cheeks remained a high crimson hue, which Emily suspected was now from anger. “That is to say, Miss Caldwell’s attitude has not always been generous toward Baron Fordyce.”

  “What's this about Freddy?" asked Gabriel, ambling over to what was now considered Emily's corner. The baron was right behind him.

  “Close call, that one," answered Freddy.

  Emily moaned inwardly, knowing the baron must have thought she'd been telling Jane about his narrow escape.

  Freddy looked first to Emily then to Jane, and continued feelingly. "Never so glad to see anyone in all my life." He gave Jane a knowing smile. “Knew a female couldn't be expected to keep that sort of thing mum."

  “What gammon, Freddy," Emily said, trying to hint to him that she'd not given the episode away.

  But her effort was for naught as she saw Jane's wounded expression before the girl averted her eyes. In the next instant, Jane excused herself and walked from the room, her back ramrod straight.

  “Something I said?" asked Freddy, his own countenance screwed up in a frown.

  “Oh, Freddy." Emily shook her head in sympathy. “Jane thought you were rebuking her for gossiping when we were doing no such thing."

  “Just what were you doing, Emi
ly?" Gabriel took the seat Jane had vacated next to her.

  Emily had the good grace to blush as she began hesitantly. "I was thinking of relating to Jane something Deborah did," Emily said, glancing up at Freddy. “But I did not do so."

  “Don't matter, Em. Still glad you showed up," Freddy half whispered with a smile. Then, he excused himself and joined Ellison and Chesterfield.

  Gabriel leaned closer to Emily and observed how she bit her lip while staring thoughtfully after Freddy. Gabriel was quick to deduce what was troubling her, for he'd also seen how Jane and Freddy had misconstrued each other's words. It looked like his friend had at last succumbed to Cupid's arrow. But what worried Gabriel most was the speculative glaze in Emily's eyes.

  “I won't have it, Em," he said, using a forceful tone. “There will be no meddling, no match making. People's lives are at stake here."

  “That is precisely why we must help them, Gab. Two people who are so very right for one another should be together."

  What could he say to that? It was true. It was what he believed. He looked into Emily's eyes and admitted defeat. He was completely lost, head over heels in love with this sweet, adorable, maddening hoyden. He prayed nightly that she returned his love. Her passionate response to his kisses attested to the fact that she was far from indifferent to him. But he was unsure if her feelings were purely physical or if her heart was involved. By Jove, he swore to himself, he'd make her fall in love with him if she weren't already. The thought of another man touching her was enough to nearly drive him wild. He reached for her hand. “Listen, Em--"

  “Oh pooh." She brushed his hand aside with the wave of one dainty hand. "Let us not quarrel over that. There is another matter of greater importance we must discuss. You will make fun of me, but it is imperative that you know."

  The caring concern in her eyes arrested him for a moment, drowning him in warmth while the violet turbulences in the depths of her eyes ignited his soul. This was no milk and water miss. Here sat a young woman of passion. A passion he'd tasted. One he well remembered. One that made him yearn for more.

  As a rosy blush fanned Emily's cheeks, Gabriel realized he'd been staring at her too intently. With a Herculean effort, he banked the fires of his desire and smiled encouragingly. “What do you wish to tell me?"