by Mira Stables
All very much as he had suspected. But hearing it put into blunt words by the gentle girl who had suffered such insult only released his anger. He regretted that for Katherine’s own sake it had been necessary to remove her from the scene with the least possible noise. A reckoning with Sandiford would have been very much to his taste. He must see how it could be contrived. But that would keep until he had restored Katherine to the shelter of her aunt’s home.
He said equably, “I trust that there is little harm done. In half an hour’s time you will be safe at home. So far as I can see there is no one to tattle. For his own pride’s sake, Sandiford will not speak, and since you can perfectly rely upon your father’s support I would advise you to tell him the whole. Should there be any rumours—though I cannot suppose it—he will know very well how to deal with them.”
“I shall certainly confide in Papa,” agreed Katherine, and managed a rather uncertain chuckle. “He will probably tell me that I got my just deserts for being too naive and trusting; but as you say, he will undoubtedly know how to look after me.”
And so would I, thought Dermot fiercely. He longed to take her in his arms, not in a burst of furious acquisitive passion, but gently, protectively, as became her weary body and strained nerves. He would woo her so gently, so tenderly that she would draw new strength from his firm clasp. But it was impossible. If he made her an offer here and now she was sure to think that it was prompted by some chivalrous notion of suggesting a way out of her difficulties. Worse still, she might feel herself under an obligation to accept out of gratitude because he had just rendered her a signal service.
He spoke instead of various impersonal topics, teasing her gently about the operatic treat that she had missed by being out of Town that night, until her increasingly stilted replies advised him that reaction had her in its grip, and he judged it better to relapse into silence.
It was two o’clock before he was able to relinquish an exhausted girl into the care of Lady Julia. That lady’s deep thankfulness expressed itself in an initial burst of scolding, but Dermot noticed with some amusement that this actually seemed to exert a soothing effect upon its recipient. She begged pardon very sincerely for having given her guardian cause for concern, protested that it was not entirely her own fault, and accepted the offer of a glass of hot milk to invite sound sleep. He had nothing to do but make his farewells and repair to his hotel, mulling over the best way of bringing Lord Sandiford to book for his dastardly conduct.
Chapter Thirteen
He paid a morning call on the ladies next day, but only Lady Julia received him. She had insisted, she explained, that Katherine take breakfast in bed, and stay there for the rest of the morning.
“The foolish child was bent on doing a number of imprudent things,” she told him. “Said that she would ride in the Park, just as usual, and do a little shopping afterwards. Announced that after all you had done for her she felt that it behoved her to present the appearance of normality, so that no one should have cause to suspect her unpleasant adventure. I managed to convince her that it was perfectly normal to spend a morning in idleness, especially so late in the Season and the weather so sultry. She begged me to try to thank you adequately for your help yesterday, but it is a task quite beyond my powers, for myself as well as for Katherine. If you had not found her and brought her back to me she would have been utterly ruined. And it’s no good talking wildly, as I’m afraid she did about defying public opinion. She would have been obliged to marry the wretch. You have saved her from a life-time of regret, and I do not wonder at it that she does not know how to express her sense of obligation.”
A much embarrassed Dermot assured her that it was a privilege to have been of service to his friends, and embarked on a half humorous account of the various chances that had favoured his search. “The veriest blunderer,” he assured her, “but the luck was on my side.” He made no mention of his determination to have a reckoning with Lord Sandiford. That was a matter of some delicacy. His heart was wholly set on it, but it must be so arranged that Katherine was in no way involved. He came reluctantly to the conclusion that it would not do to call the fellow out. That would be bound to arouse curiosity and speculation, and knowing the degree of attention that his Lordship had bestowed on the girl, it was extremely probable that the gossips would come very near the truth. But he could see no reason why he should not give the impudent knave a sound thrashing. In fact, in some respects it would be more satisfactory, since he was filled with a primitive desire to smash his fists into that aristocratic face. Perhaps that wouldn’t serve either, he reflected ruefully. Wouldn’t do to mark him too much. Still, it should be possible to inflict a satisfactory punishment even with that restriction.
With this amiable intention in mind, he went off to Lord Sandiford’s lodging. This was a pleasant apartment in the house of a retired gentleman’s gentleman, who augmented his modest income by letting the larger part of his house to selected bachelor tenants. The poor misguided man had thought that to include a peer among them would add a certain distinction to his establishment, but he had very soon discovered his error. What with waiting weeks at a time for his rent, and fending off bailiffs and debt collectors who were always at his Lordship’s heels, Mr. Todmore had just about come to the end of his patience.
He received Dermot warily, and said that Lord Sandiford was out of Town. He had gone into the country for a few days and Mr. Todmore did not care to hazard a guess as to when he might return. He shook his head regretfully at Dermot’s proffered guinea. “No, sir, it’s not that. I really don’t know, though happy to meet with a gentleman that’s so ready to sport his blunt.” He hesitated briefly, then said diffidently, “If it’s a matter of a debt, sir, you’re not the only one. If I may make so bold as to advise you, it might be better to have recourse to the law.”
Dermot grinned, but shook his head. “Not that kind of debt. Let us say rather that I have a score to settle.”
Mr. Todmore’s expression of polite interest turned to one of dismay. “If it’s a mill you have in mind, sir, this is my house and my furnishings. I want neither scandal nor damage, as I’ll thank you to remember.”
Dermot said soothingly that he would certainly endeavour to bear this point in mind. “You will be seeing me again,” he promised. “I shall call upon his Lordship daily until I am so fortunate as to find him at home. Meanwhile—the truth is worth a good deal more than a pleasant lie,” and he extended two guineas which this time found a readily receptive palm.
Frustrated in his primary aim, he spent a rather boring day, heartily wishing himself back at the Priory if he could have ensured that Katherine would be at his side. He had almost made up his mind to give pride the go-by and to lay his case before her. Or would it be better to approach her father first? It would certainly be more correct. But that meant two or three days out of Town, and he was anxious to settle his unfinished business with Lord Sandiford. After a period of sober reflection he decided that this must be his first concern. He had some notion of being able to present Mr. Martenhays with at least one sound reason for giving his consent to so unequal a match for his daughter. Dermot Winfield would know very well how to take good care of his wife. She would run no such horrid risks as she had experienced at Sandiford’s hands. And to be able to add that the offender had been brought to book must substantially strengthen his case.
Having decided so much, he spent the next twenty four hours in mounting frustration. He decided against paying a formal call on his beloved. She would be strictly chaperoned, and what could he say to her under such circumstances that would advance his cause? Moreover she might still be labouring under a sense of obligation to him. It would be better to allow time for her disproportionate gratitude to abate a little. He might hope to meet her at Lady Selby’s ridotto that night, when there might be a chance of fixing his interest with her in more open and sociable circumstances. Meanwhile he must find some means of passing the weary hours, his early call on Lord Sandiford
having again gone unrewarded. His Lordship was still out of Town, said Mr. Todmore sympathetically, and had sent no message to herald his return. Though that was only to be expected. It was his way to come and go at will.
The slow passage of the empty hours put Mr. Winfield in mind of a matter that had irked him ever since his arrival in Town. At the Priory he had never felt the lack of a smart sporting vehicle such as a curricle or a whisky. His light travelling chaise was essential for necessary business or the occasional visit to Town, and the gig was perfectly adequate for his local journeyings if there were goods or implements to be transported. Otherwise he preferred to ride. But he had been bitterly jealous every time that he had seen Sandiford driving his dashing turn-out in the Park with Katherine as his passenger. He himself was obliged to drive the lady in a hired vehicle, drawn by such commoners as the livery stable could supply. It was time that these shortcomings were remedied. Riding with the lady was all very well, and since she still preferred a quiet mount his livery hack was well able to keep abreast of hers; but opportunities for conversation were far more limited when one was riding, even in the restricted fashion permitted in the Park, than when seated side by side in a curricle or phaeton. A phaeton, decided Dermot, would be an absolute necessity if one were a married man. A curricle was scarcely suitable for a lady driver, but a phaeton, provided it was not of exaggerated design, would be perfectly proper. He indulged a happy little dream of teaching Katherine to tool such a vehicle about the quiet lanes converging on the Priory, and betook himself to Longacre, where he beguiled the afternoon pleasantly enough in inspecting the elegant carriages that were being offered, and in contemplating such additional luxuries as would make them fit for Katherine’s use.
There were two vehicles that especially took his eye. One had the body mounted on elliptic springs, thus doing away with the need for a perch, and making a neat, light-weight model that would be easy for a lady to handle. The other, more conventional, with perch and cee springs, appealed to him for its colour. He laughed at himself for being swayed by such a triviality, and wondered if there was any limit to the folly of a man in love. Naturally he could have any carriage that he finally selected painted and picked out to his own—or Katherine’s—taste. This one chanced to be the exact shade of deep blue that reminded him of a certain sapphire pendant.
He did not place a firm order. To do so might influence fortune against him, but he dropped a hint that there was a lady whose tastes would have to be consulted, and no consideration of the needs of the Priory was permitted to influence either his choice or his selection of desirable embellishments. Both he and the representative of Hatchetts were very well pleased with each other, and parted amicably in anticipation of a more decisive meeting at an early date.
It was three days before Lord Sandiford returned to Town. The waiting did nothing to cool his opponent’s wrath. If anything it intensified it, since the delay obliged him to defer matters of vital importance. He managed to secure only one dance with Katherine at Lady Selby’s ridotto and by mutual consent they spoke solely of trivial matters. There was no reference at all to their midnight adventure. And although he was so fortunate as to secure a seat beside her during the musical part of the entertainment, good manners forbade anything beyond the most desultory remark while it was in progress. He would have liked to invite her to ride with him next day, but his eagerly awaited meeting with Lord Sandiford must take pride of place. In fact the evening left Katherine in a fit of the dismals. She wondered anxiously if the adventure that they had shared had given Mr. Winfield a disgust of her. He had seemed quiet and withdrawn, and had made no attempt at promoting a further meeting.
Dermot, for his part, called on Lord Sandiford at the indecently early hour of ten o’clock on Friday morning, on the fret with impatience, and cherishing a notion that his quarry might have returned to his lodging late on the preceding evening, and would yet give him the slip by an early departure. He was admitted by Mr. Todmore, who did not wait for his enquiry but favoured him with a significant nod. As Dermot started impetuously for the stairs, however, he put out a restraining hand and beckoned him mysteriously into his own small sanctum.
“His Lordship returned last night, sir,” he announced as soon as he had closed the door. “He is now packing his gear for a prolonged stay with friends. It is fortunate that you called early today, or your business with him might have had to wait indefinitely. Perhaps you will announce yourself. I find that I have to go out on an errand. The door at the head of the stair—and pray remember my interest in the matter!”
He withdrew discreetly to the basement regions, leaving Dermot to make his own way to Lord Sandiford’s apartment on the first floor. Mr. Todmore had no desire to be involved in the fracas that he anticipated, and a strategical withdrawal was the simplest method of achieving his purpose. He put on his hat and left the house by the area steps. As he trod briskly down the street, he observed two soberly dressed individuals coming towards him. So far as he was aware he had never seen either of them before, but experience had made him knowledgeable. He would have been willing to wager a modest sum that they were tip-staves, and that their destination was Lord Sandiford’s lodging. Well—they would go empty away, since there was no one to admit them to the house. He walked on, untroubled by any qualms of conscience. Undoubtedly they would be back.
Dermot, receiving no response to his increasingly imperative assaults on Lord Sandiford’s door knocker, finally lost patience. He knew perfectly well that the fellow was within and this was no time for paying undue heed to etiquette. He flung open the door and strode in.
It was a comfortably furnished apartment of decent size, lit by two tall windows, and might have presented an attractive appearance had it not been in such disorder. A handsome walnut bureau stood open against one wall, its drawers pulled out crookedly to reveal the mass of papers with which they were stuffed. A welter of discarded garments was heaped on the chairs, while a driving coat, a hat, gloves and whip had been flung on the floor. Across the room an open door gave access to his Lordship’s bedroom, which was in a similar state of chaos. Two open valises stood on the bed. His Lordship had been surprised in the homely task of packing his own linen. His long-suffering valet, who had received no wages for the past year, had found other employment, and departed without notice, pointing out that he was well within his rights in so doing. His Lordship, faced with the unaccustomed task of doing his own packing, for an indefinite stay in foreign parts, was making heavy weather of it.
Hearing his door open, he came to the communicating doorway and said irritably, “What is it now, Todmore? I thought I told you that”—and broke off abruptly as he recognised his visitor.
From the description that Miss Keane had given him, he had a pretty good notion as to the identity of the stranger who had spirited Katherine away from the Grey Goose Feathers, and Dermot’s unceremonious entrance confirmed every suspicion. His instinct was to put a good face on it, smooth things over. But he had more urgent preoccupations. Delay now was dangerous. He must get rid of this untimely visitor as quickly as possible.
“I did not hear your knock,” he said, in his most insolent manner and without any pretence at greeting.
“Then you must be devilish hard of hearing,” retorted Dermot curtly. “Not too deaf, I trust, to hear what I have to say to you.”
“I’ll listen if I must, you damned meddling marplot. But make it brief. I am in haste to be gone.”
“That I can well understand,” agreed Dermot suavely, “but there are debts to be settled first.”
Lord Sandiford winced.
“Had it not been for the risk of scandal staining an innocent girl’s name,” Dermot went on, “it would not have been I who called upon you, but my friends. And you would not have escaped with the light punishment of a mere thrashing, which I propose to administer here and now. Give me leave to tell you, milord, that your dealings with Miss Martenhays must disgust any decent man, and that since her father i
s unable to bring you to book, it is for me, as his friend, to administer the necessary punishment.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” retorted his Lordship, anger making him forgetful of his pressing need for a swift departure; and beginning to struggle out of his coat. “I am not without experience in the manly art. It will be interesting to see which one gets the thrashing.” He tossed the coat on to an already overloaded chair, causing a pile of garments to descend on to the floor, and began to roll up his sleeves in a business-like way.
It was a question that was destined to remain unanswered. As Dermot squared up to him, purposefully, the door of the living room opened once more and two more uninvited guests walked into the room. They came rather diffidently but with a certain air of determination. Even in their profession it was not usual to enter a man’s house without giving warning of their intention. But Mr. Todmore, in his haste to be gone after he had admitted Dermot, had neglected to close the street door, and the sight of it standing ajar had proved too much for the bailiffs to resist. It was a positive invitation to come to grips with the elusive Lord Sandiford, whom they had been seeking for several weary weeks.
The sight of their quarry banished any qualms that they might have felt about the illicit nature of their entry, and they advanced boldly upon the two contestants.
