by Joan Smith
Arthur took his leave around ten-thirty. We were just hinting Geoffrey away when flying footsteps were heard on the staircase. For some foolish reason I thought of Lord Paton, perhaps because he and Geoffrey had twice passed on the stairs. I could not imagine what was happening when I opened the door to one of Lady DeGrue's liveried footmen, who carried a note in his hand.
"Is Mr. Nesbitt here, ma'am?" he asked, looking over my shoulder to Geoffrey.
Geoffrey dashed forward and snatched the note. "When you wasn't at the Pelican, I figured you might be with your cousin," the footman said. He watched with an eager face as Geoffrey read the note. Annie and I wore the same expression.
"She's gone!" Geoffrey exclaimed. His face turned bone-white and his eyes seemed to grow black. The paper trembled in his fingers.
Annie demanded "Who?" and I asked "Isabel?" at the same moment.
The footman could no longer contain his excitement. "Packed up a pair of bandboxes and slipped out the liberry door. It wasn't out her bedroom winder, for there was no ladder."
"When? How long ago?" Geoffrey shouted.
"There'd be no way of knowing, would there?" was the footman's unsatisfactory reply. "She ate her dinner at seven, and said she had a megrim. The old dame went to say good night at ten, and found a piller stuffed under the covers. She was very nearly conned, but she wanted to check the young lady for a fever, and that's how she found Miss Bonham had tipped her the double."
"This is Etherington's work. I must go to Lady DeGrue at once," Geoffrey said, and headed for the door without even picking up his curled beaver.
"The ladies are wanted as well, if you'll have a look at the note," the footman said. "For propriety's sake. We wouldn't want Miss Bonham to spend the night with just two bachelors. ‘ Twould be almost worse than one."
"Quite right," Geoffrey said distractedly. "Get your bonnet, Emma."
I was already flying to my bedchamber, Annie a step behind me. "I knew this would happen," I said in exasperation. "I wonder how much of a lead they have."
"And where they could be heading, " Annie added.
"It would be Gretna Green. Until he marries her, he cannot get his filthy paws on her money."
We bolted downstairs at a great pace, discussing the matter as we went. "I think we ought to head straight for Gretna Green and let Annie go over to comfort Lady DeGrue," I suggested to Geoffrey. "We don't want Etherington to get any farther ahead than he already has."
"Lady DeGrue might have something to help us— she might have found a note," he parried.
Mrs. Speers came staggering out of the saloon, reeking of gin. "Is something amiss, Miss Nisbitt?" she asked.
"Nothing, thank you. We can't stop to chat now."
We piled into Geoffrey's carriage and bowled along to Quiet Street. Lady DeGrue looked like death. She was wringing her hands and pacing to and fro in the gloomy old Gold Saloon, blaming herself for everything.
"I should have gone up to her sooner. It is all my fault. I left the poor child alone with a migraine."
I put an arm around her poor bony shoulders and made her sit on the sofa. "Don't blame yourself," I said. "Annie, get some wine for Lady DeGrue."
If blame belonged on anyone but the culprits, it was on me. I was the one who had unwittingly loosened Isabel's chains. I knew in my heart she would never have done such a thing before I convinced her she was treated like a child. The trouble was that she was a child, insofar as practical worldly knowledge went. Lord Ronald would not have given her a second look if I had not talked her into the dashing high poke bonnet, for that matter.
"She didn't leave a note?" Geoffrey asked.
"No, not a word." Poor Lady DeGrue tried to stand up, and fell back on the sofa. "We must be off at once," she said.
"You are not going anywhere. Miss Potter and I shall go with Geoffrey," I told her firmly.
She looked at me with the eyes of a whipped dog and said in a low voice, "What will Mr. Nesbitt think of her? He will never offer for her now. Such an excellent parti."
"Hush. He loves her better than that, Lady DeGrue. We shall bring her back, and see them married before any scandal breaks."
She patted my hand. "You were always so kind to Isabel. I wish there were some way I could repay you, Miss Nesbitt."
The others joined us for a hurried discussion of Isabel's recovery. Geoffrey drew out his watch. "If they left around eight—and they could not have left much earlier—they would have gone about ..." He frowned. "In Lord Ronald's carriage, and with that team of grays, I shall never overtake them."
"Geoffrey!" I scolded, for this speech threw Lady DeGrue into another spasm of trembling. "We don't know when they left. Perhaps it was only minutes before Lady DeGrue discovered her gone. We'll hire a better team."
"Her bed was cold," Lady DeGrue said with a forlorn shake of her head.
"What we really require is a curricle," Geoffrey decided. "It would make twice the time, but mine is at home, and of course the livery stable at Bath has none for hire."
Lady DeGrue looked up from her handkerchief. "Lord Paton, Miss Nesbitt," she said hopefully. "He has the best bloods in all of Bath. We shan't mind his knowing about this disaster, as he is such a close friend of yours. And his discretion can be counted on."
The idea filled me with horror. How could I ask the help of a man who despised me? I had no claim on Paton's charity. Besides, I had not heard from him for two days, and had no idea where he was. I thought he might even have returned to London by now. "I'm afraid I don't know where he is this evening," I said.
It was true, but it was also true that he had the best nags in Bath. If anyone could overtake Lord Ronald, it was surely Paton. But we could not afford to waste time trying to locate him. It seemed hard to leave Lady DeGrue alone, and I added, "Annie, do you think you might stay ..."
"She should not be alone," Annie agreed. "You two run along. I'm too old to be battering along in the dark of night."
Geoffrey and I ran back to the waiting carriage.
"I wonder if they are really headed to Scotland," I said.
"It's certainly marriage he has in mind, but Gretna Green is a mighty long haul. It would take days to reach it from Bath, and he knows Isabel is not without friends."
"Perhaps he'll try for something closer," I worried.
"London is a mighty long haul too. His father's estate is nearly as far away, in Cornwall. The man has no imagination. It'll be Gretna Green. At least he cannot marry her till he gets her there. We'll overtake him long before that."
"He doesn't have to marry her. Once he spends the night with her, she'll have no choice but to have him."
I had spoken without thinking, and I could see how my words affected Geoffrey. He froze into a perfect statue, with his lips clenched tightly together. "I'll kill the scoundrel," he growled. Something in his voice reminded me of a mad dog.
He urged the coachman to go faster, till we were flying along the road, being mercilessly tossed to and fro in the carriage.
"Do you think we should stop and make inquiries at some of the inns?" I suggested.
"Not yet. There's no point till we get a few hours from Bath. He won't risk being seen and recognized close to home. By Stroud, or thereabouts, he'll start to feel safe."
Our destination was a little more than twenty-five miles, when the twisting road was taken into account. There was no escaping hills. Our trip took us into Cotswold country, through pretty villages with magnificent churches. The hunting boxes of the wealthy stood atop the hills and nestled into the valleys beyond. With relentless pressure on John Groom and the nags, we made it to Stroud in three hours, with a few stops at inns close to the city. The town was as hard on the horses as Bath. It rests on the steep side of a narrow valley, with the Thames and Severn cutting through it.
It was the dead of night, actually early morning, for it was after two o'clock when we arrived. There was no gaslight in this part of the country. The buildings were
all dark except the inns, where torches blazed outside and a few lights within told us someone was still up.
"Where shall we begin?" Geoffrey asked, his eye running down the main street to three or four establishments.
"Right here, at the Three Feathers."
I was cramped and sore and tired. My eyes felt as if someone had thrown sand in them, and I was as hungry as a horse. But it was a relief to have reached Stroud, and I alit from the carriage with hope soaring. We went into the Three Feathers and straight to the desk, where Geoffrey roused the clerk by ringing the desk bell. Within two minutes we knew Isabel was not here. The performance was repeated at the Rose and Thistle, the George, and the Shipwalk, with the same results.
We returned to the carriage, crestfallen. "We must make a tour of all the inns close by, just beyond town," I said. "Etherington is poor. Perhaps they are putting up at a smaller, cheaper establishment."
"Or rushing straight on to Gretna Green," Geoffrey said, jaw muscles working.
"They are only made of flesh and bone, like us. They will have stopped somewhere nearby. They are at some inn, having dinner and taking a rest."
Geoffrey's jaws clenched furiously. "I'll kill him," he growled in a very good parody of a hero. Unfortunately he had brought neither pistol nor sword with him, and I did not think him capable of execution with his bare hands.
"Let us continue and try the next spot," I suggested.
We re-entered the carriage and went on to a small stone place called Jack Duck's Tavern, with a discreet sign in the window saying Rooms, Meals, Ale. "He wouldn't have brought her here," Geoffrey said, nose turning down.
"It's worth a try. In any case, the front hall is all lit up inside. We shan't have to rouse the clerk. Geoffrey! Maybe Etherington has already done it for us! Why is this place ablaze when none of the others were? They've had a recent arrival!"
"By God, you could be right! I'll nip around to the stable before we enter and see if his carriage is here." He left, to return a moment later, bristling with success. "They're here! And he cannot have had time to—I mean they only arrived fifteen minutes ago."
"Let us go in!"
* * *
Chapter 16
A decrepit old hag wrapped in mismatched and soiled shawls sat at the desk thumbing through a copy of The Ladies' Journal. Was this really my audience! Before we said a word she turned a knowing, bloodshot eye on us. "Too late, dearies. I'm all filled up. If you'd care to wait an hour, Mr. Smith may be finished with his suite. He must get his lady home before morning."
"Good God!" Geoffrey exclaimed, and looked at me as if he would like to cover my ears. "You'd best wait in the carriage, Emma. This is no place for a lady."
It was a temptation, but before I decided, the air was pierced with a shriek, coming from behind a door across the hallway. Geoffrey and I exchanged a look of mute horror. "Isabel!" we said in unison, and darted to the door. It was locked. The hag waggled her head and said, "Mr. Jones is a bit of a lad, but he never hurts them."
"Open this door at once!" I demanded.
Geoffrey was already slamming at it, first with his shoulder, and next with his foot, which proved more effective. The battered old door flew open and we stared at just such a lively scene of dissipation as we had both been dreading for three hours.
A flushed and disheveled Lord Ronald wa s trying vainly to pull Isabel into his arms. His dainty coiffure was all askew. He had flung off his kerchief and opened his shirt halfway to his waist. There wasn't a hair to be seen on his white but well-muscled chest. The glazed appearance of his eyes and the empty bottle of wine bore testimony to his condition.
Isabel looked even worse. Her gown, though in no danger of being ripped from her body, was totally destroyed, with mud splashes all over the skirt. Her face was grimed, and she was fighting off Etherington's advances. When she saw us, her face screwed up into a knot and tears spurted out.
"Geoffrey!" she bawled, and went running into his arms, where she cried herself to a pulp.
"Now, see here!" Lord Ronald blustered, but in a slurred voice.
Geoffrey set Isabel aside into my keeping and turned the wrath of Jehovah on the villain. "You will answer for this, sir!"
"This is none of your affair," Etherington said.
Isabel clutched on to my arm. "Oh, he's going to challenge Ronald to a duel. Do you think he'll kill him?"
It was soon clear that a duel was not what Geoffrey had in mind. He raised his fists and laid Etherington flat with one well-aimed blow at his handsome nose. Etherington subsided gracefully onto the sofa. Blood did not spurt from the nose, but it oozed in an ugly dark dribble. Geoffrey pulled him up by the collar and went at him again.
I used the time to quiz Isabel. "Did he do anything?" I demanded. I did not refer to her muddied and frazzled state, of course, but to her intrinsic virtue.
She understood perfectly. A fierce light glowed in her eye, and she said, "No, but he meant to, and before we were married! You were right about him, Emma. I was never so taken in in my whole life. He didn't even have a wedding ring for me!"
The second blow either knocked Etherington unconscious, or showed him the wisdom of pretending it had. He lay prostrate on the floor, motionless.
"Get him out of here," I said.
The harridan appeared at the doorway. "Friends of the young lady, are you? Shall I have it removed?" she asked, nudging at Etherington's carcass with the toe of her shoe.
"If you please," I said.
She whistled down the hall, and two stout ruffians came bounding in. "Put Mr. Jones to bed," she ordered them, and left, carrying his curled beaver and coat. I noticed her fingers sliding into the coat pockets, but could not have cared less.
Geoffrey cast one frustrated look on Isabel, trying to decide whether to ring a peal over her, or crush her into his arms as he wanted to. She decided the matter for him by rushing into his arms and claiming him as her hero. He had little recourse then but to pat her on the back and comfort her, while she, sobbing and gasping, poured out her story. This, then, was how I ought to have behaved with Paton. Fancy Isabel being so wise, when she had not a particle of common sense or actual experience.
Sensing it was to be a long story, I asked the harridan to bring us wine, and we all found seats. I left the sofa to the lovers and made do with an uncomfortable, hard chair. Isabel held center stage, and was crafty enough to heap abuse on herself before we could do it. E'er long Geoffrey was persuaded she was fortunate to have survived her ordeal at all. He clung to her hands as if she might vanish before his very eyes.
"I have been so foolish," she said, casting sheep's eyes on Geoffrey. "But he told me we would be married immediately. I thought he had got a license, for I am over twenty-one, you know. He was supposed to have a minister here, waiting for us. But he didn't have one, or even a wedding ring."
"How did you get so dirty?" I asked.
"He brought me in an open carriage," she said, fire sparking from her eyes. "In case anyone recognized his own, he said, but I learned later he had to give it to someone called Quincy to cover a bet, and all he could borrow was a curricle. So we had to drive in a freezing rig. He brought a bottle of brandy to keep himself warm, but what of me? Then we lost a wheel outside of town, for the roads are a disgrace. Ronald despises manual work, so I had to run down the hill after it myself in my best slippers. He wanted to sleep under the starry sky, by a rippling brook. Only there were no stars, and besides, he didn't even bring a blanket! He used my money to get the wheel fixed, and once we got here, he didn't order a thing to eat, only wine."
"The bounder!" Geoffrey said, clasping her hands tightly.
I swallowed my smile and urged her on to tell all. That she hadn't had a bite since leaving home featured as large as the real outrages. The runaway had been engineered wholly by the ineffectual Etherington, by means of notes smuggled to her in the park. He left them in a bush, she rescued them while pretending to admire th
e foliage, and left off a reply the next day. When Geoffrey refused to take her to the park, Lord Ronald risked throwing pebbles at her window, and they agreed to flee that very night.
"We were to be married here, and go on to London," she explained. "And I am glad now the minister wasn't here, for I have come to see Lord Ronald is very selfish. Why, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it was only my money he was after. He certainly took no pains for my comfort."
I did not hesitate to utter the dread words, "I told you so." Geoffrey was all sweetness and understanding. Isabel was all contrition, and we were eager to get away.
"But first we must eat something," she decreed.
"Not here, Isabel," I said. "Let us go to one of the better inns. The food in this place will be even worse than the wine, and this drink tastes like paint thinner."
"Is there someplace you can clean up?" Geoffrey asked her.
There were no facilities in the parlor for making a toilette. The hag showed Isabel to a little cubbyhole with a dingy mirror and a grimy washbasin. I was going to help her, but there was hardly room for one, so I said, "Just wash your face and brush your hair. Your pelisse will cover the state of your gown." Then I returned to Geoffrey to discuss the matter.
"You'd best have a word with Etherington, warning him not to mention this affair," I suggested.
"Yes, I will before we leave. Should I challenge him to a duel?" he asked doubtfully.
"Don't be such a clothhead, Geoffrey. What good would that do?"
"But if her reputation is ruined ..."
"Then you'll just have to marry her." I smiled.
He looked as if I had conferred a title on him. "Do you think she'll have me?"
