Last Gentleman Standing

by Jane Ashford

  Elisabeth agreed soberly. “I only wish I might go to him,” she added. Derek smiled, but said nothing. Elisabeth suddenly noticed that he looked very tired. She held out her hand. “You have been so kind to us through this time,” she said. “You have quite worn yourself down, I believe. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He took her hand and looked directly into her eyes. He started to speak, hesitated, then said, “It has been my pleasure to assist you.” His tone was very serious, and Elisabeth felt a little uncomfortable. She drew back her hand gently.

  “You must go home now and rest,” she went on. “Knowing Tony is safe, we can all relax.”

  After a moment, Derek nodded. “I shall continue my inquiries, however, so that we can bring him home where he belongs.”

  Elisabeth’s restlessness did not diminish as the days went on. There was nothing she could do. Others would find Tony, or he would write to send for them. No task she began diverted her mind, however, from thoughts of him. Finally, late one afternoon, she gave up and readied herself for a walk. She might at least use this nervous energy, she thought. She stared out the window of her bedchamber. Perhaps the brisk wind she could see tossing the trees would scour her mind of fancies.

  She was pulling on her gloves in the hall when she heard noises from the back garden. Growser was tied up there, she saw, and he didn’t look happy about it. He was howling, in fact, though one of the footmen was trying to attract his attention to a large bowl of scraps set on the lawn. Elisabeth hurried down the back stairs and into the garden. “Growser,” she said as she reached them, “I am sorry. I’d nearly forgotten you. Do you miss Tony also?” The young footman started and turned, rising to his feet. Elisabeth recognized him as the one who had bathed Growser and smiled. Thus encouraged, he said, “He is frettin’, miss. He won’t eat or pay me any heed.”

  Elisabeth looked down at the dog sympathetically. “And he hates being tied. I shall take him on my walk. He needs exercise.”

  “Oh, yes, miss,” agreed the footman. “I was about to ask leave to take him out myself.”

  “Does he have a lead somewhere? I can’t let him run free, though I would like to.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  Within minutes Elisabeth and Growser were making their way down the street toward the park. Elisabeth thought she might be able to let him run a bit there. Growser was extremely excited. He jumped about her skirts and strained at his lead. She was actually as grateful as he for the company, for she had used Growser as an excuse to keep Ketchem from accompanying her. The maid’s dislike of the dog had overcome her rigid sense of propriety, much to Elisabeth’s amusement.

  They entered the park at the southwest corner and began to walk along its length. It was relatively empty at this time of day. Most fashionable strollers had returned home for tea or to change for dinner. Growser investigated every bush and bench along the way. When they had nearly crossed the park, Elisabeth decided she could risk freeing the dog. There was no one about, and she thought he must run toward home, since all of the park lay in that direction. She unfastened the lead from his neck, saying, “There, now you can have a good run,” and stood back.

  Growser stood perfectly still for a moment, then gave a joyous bark and raced for a clump of trees that stood a little off the path. Elisabeth smiled and began to stroll back the way they had come. She went slowly, wishing to prolong this quiet interlude. Growser ran back and forth between her and the fascinations of the park. His energy, expressed in prodigious leaps and bounds, gave her some idea of how restless he’d been.

  They were about halfway home when the dog’s behavior suddenly altered. Elisabeth had paused for a moment near a gate at the side of the park, and Growser came running up to her to see what was the matter. But as he reached her, he stopped abruptly and raised his head. He stared out the gate and down the street that led away from it, whined softly, and stepped stiff-legged to the pavement. “No, Growser,” Elisabeth commanded. “We’re going this way.” She made as if to walk down the path.

  Growser ignored her, continuing to whine, and looked about in a manner that irresistibly suggested uncertainty. Elisabeth frowned and walked through the gate to where he stood. “Come along now,” she said. “I’ve been kind enough to take you out, but now we must go home. They’ll be looking for us.” Growser looked up at her and whined more loudly. He ran out into the street, stopped, looked back at her, then went on to the opposite side. “Growser,” responded Elisabeth sharply. “This is not the time for games. I shan’t take you walking again. Come here.” Her tone was commanding, and the dog started toward her. But halfway across the street he stopped again, looked back down the adjoining avenue, and half turned. “Growser!” called Elisabeth.

  He turned once more, and Elisabeth would have sworn that he looked pleadingly at her. She frowned, puzzled by this uncharacteristic behavior, and walked out into the street toward him holding out her hand. “What is it?” she asked. “Do you scent something here in the city? All the rabbits are in the park.” Growser jumped and capered excitedly, ran to the opposite side of the street, then stopped and looked back at her. Elisabeth frowned again, paused, then followed.

  They repeated this performance several times, proceeding some way along the street leading away from the park. Elisabeth was by now convinced that Growser was trying to show her something, and it looked remarkably like a path through town. When they reached a road going north and Growser showed every sign of turning along it and starting out of London. All at once, Elisabeth felt certain the dog was leading her to Tony. The walk in the park had reminded him of his adventure, and he had perhaps caught some lingering scent or seen something which set him going. She called him sharply, and when he ran back to her for a moment, she seized his collar and attached the lead again. It was late, and there was no time to pursue this trail today. Tomorrow, they would follow it and find Tony.

  Exultant, Elisabeth hurried homeward, urging a reluctant Growser with her. She must write Derek at once, she thought, and organize a party to ride behind Growser. But at this point, she paused. She would almost certainly not be allowed to join such a party, she realized. Wincannon would protest that it might prove too taxing; her family would agree, and she would again be left to wait while others searched. Elisabeth’s chin lifted, and a glint came into her eyes. She had had enough of waiting, she thought, and of running to Derek Wincannon for help like a lost child. Tony had said that he was safe; there was no longer any danger, if indeed there had ever been. She would follow Growser herself.

  When she reached home, Elisabeth handed Growser over to the footman and went directly up to her room to change for dinner, saying nothing about her discovery. She retired early, saying she had letters to write.

  In her room, Elisabeth did sit down at the writing desk, but she wrote a note to her own family, explaining her idea and what she planned to do. She would leave it on the mantelpiece, she thought, to keep them from worrying. That done, she pulled a small leather case from her wardrobe and put a few necessary items in it—some clean linen, a hairbrush, and some tooth powder.

  She allowed Ketchem to make her ready for bed, and then dismissed her, saying that she hoped to sleep rather late in the morning. Ketchem looked disapproving, but said nothing. When she was alone again, Elisabeth took out her new blue velvet riding habit and looked at it disapprovingly. It was too fine for the sort of travel she was planning. Putting it back, she pushed aside several of her other new gowns and reached far into the closet for her old habit she had sometimes used in Bath to ride with her pupils. It looked just the thing. She dragged it out and surveyed its drab brown folds; no one would take her for a rich Londoner in this, she thought. She hung it on the front of the wardrobe and shut the door. She was ready.

  Sixteen

  Elisabeth woke with a start and sat up quickly. She hadn’t thought she would sleep, but here was light showing through a gap in the
curtains at her window. She jumped out of bed, afraid she’d missed her chance to leave the house, but when she pulled the curtains back, she saw that it was only just dawn. She could hear no noises in the house below. She dressed quickly in her old riding habit and picked up her case. If she could just get away without attracting anyone’s attention, she thought, they could do nothing. She went softly down to the hall and stood listening a moment. Still, no sounds. She crept to the kitchen, and seeing no one about, added a bit of bread and cheese to the things in her case.

  Gently, Elisabeth unlocked the door into the back garden and went out, pulling it closed behind her. Growser was lying with his head on his paws, but he jumped up as soon as he saw her and strained at the chain clipped to his collar. He barked once before Elisabeth could reach him, but when she put her hand on his head and begged him to be quiet he complied, rather surprising her. She loosed him quickly and entwined her fingers in his collar. Together, they traversed the garden and came to the stables.

  It was here that Elisabeth was most afraid of discovery. The grooms were often up very early, she knew, and it would take her a little time to get her horse saddled herself. She paused in the stableyard, listening again. She heard nothing but the movements of the horses in their stalls. They advanced to the stable door, and Elisabeth peered around it. She could see no one in the building. She pulled Growser into the room and shut the door. With some difficulty, she got her saddle down from its high hook and saddled her mare.

  Checking the stableyard once more, Elisabeth directed her small party out. She mounted at the block and urged her horse to the yard gate. This was the time when she might be caught. They reached the exit; Elisabeth leaned down and opened the gate, and they were out. Growser capered about excitedly. Kicking her horse’s flanks, she got them all under way.

  Growser was eager. He led them in a lope past the park and on to the north road. There were almost no pedestrians about at this early hour, and most vehicles were heavy delivery carts. Some of their drivers looked curiously at Elisabeth, but no one offered to accost her. They traveled rapidly at first, and very soon, they were nearing the outskirts of town. Buildings gradually gave way to open fields and farms, and Elisabeth relaxed somewhat.

  They had ridden for about an hour and were well out of town when Growser stopped for the first time. He looked about him for a minute, then sat down by the side of the road and began to scratch his ear. Elisabeth pulled up and watched him. When he finished scratching but still showed no signs of moving on, she said, “Growser, you wretched dog, what are you doing? You aren’t giving up now, certainly?”

  Growser cocked an ear and gazed up at her, his tongue lolling out amiably. He stretched out on the grass at the verge of the road and panted.

  “Are you just tired, perhaps?” continued Elisabeth without much hope. She leaned back in the saddle and sighed. “How bird-witted I shall seem,” she said to herself, “arriving home from my adventure with nothing to show.” Two carriages passed as time went on; the driver of one looked at Elisabeth very insolently, she thought. At last, she addressed Growser again, feeling at once very annoyed and very silly. “All right, you tiresome animal, either go on or turn and go home. I shan’t wait here any longer.”

  To her astonishment, Growser rose and began to trot along the road once more. She paused a moment, wondering at the wisdom of following him further, then shrugged and rode forward. “I may as well go on to the end now,” she murmured. “I can’t appear any more foolish than I shall if I go home now.”

  Moving more slowly, they traveled a good distance; then, Growser stopped again. But before Elisabeth could scold him, he turned and headed down a small lane that intersected the main road. Elisabeth’s spirits rose; perhaps the dog did know where he was going after all. This road was tortuous and very long. The sun began to be hot on Elisabeth’s head. Ten o’clock came and passed. Elisabeth munched some of her bread and cheese guiltily, scolding herself for forgetting to bring anything for Growser. They’d been riding for nearly four hours, and she was tiring. Too, the lane was narrow and unkempt—the hedges nearly meeting in the middle in some places—and she was forced to bend and duck repeatedly. The exertion tired her even more, and the state of the lane made her a bit uneasy. What could be at the end of such a thoroughfare?

  Her question was answered soon after. They came out of the lane into another highway, and Growser turned unerringly to the right. Elisabeth pulled a stray twig from her hair, shrugged, and followed. This road was well-kept and well-traveled, though it was not one of the main London roads. They passed several prosperous-looking farms and were greeted pleasantly by passersby. Elisabeth relaxed again.

  By noon, however, she was tired out. She pulled up and called to Growser to stop. “I must rest a moment,” she told him. “I am too stiff and cramped to go on.” The dog halted with seeming reluctance, and when Elisabeth started to dismount, he jumped up at her, barking. His insistent leaps prevented her from climbing down; she was afraid he would cause her to fall. “Growser,” she commanded, “stand away, sit down.” But the dog showed no signs of obeying. Elisabeth sat back in her saddle, sighing. “This is not at all what I expected,” she said aloud. “Apparently, an adventure is nothing more than a tired back, a headache, and a good deal of annoyance.” Growser had moved away a little, and again she tried to get down. The dog hurried back and jumped at her once more.

  She put a hand to her aching forehead. For a moment, all was quiet. “Very well,” she said looking up, “let us go on, then. But I tell you now, Growser, if we do not find Tony at the end of this journey, you’ll have to find a new home.” She kicked her horse, and they started forward.

  Half an hour passed, and they began to follow a high stone wall which ran along the right side of the road. Even mounted, Elisabeth couldn’t see over it, and the top appeared to be spiked and strewn with broken glass. However, ivy also grew thickly across it, and the mortar between the stones was crumbling in places, rather defeating its ferocious purpose. It was a very long wall. Elisabeth stood in her stirrups and tried to see the end, but it curved out of sight far ahead. However, there was a large gate further on; she looked at Growser hopefully.

  But the dog stopped almost immediately, a good distance from this opening. He turned to the wall at a place where it had begun to collapse and had been propped up with wooden beams inside. The top third of its height was gone here, and the remainder was more a pile of stones than a wall. This section extended for at least six feet, leaving a sizable gap. Growser looked at the opening, whined, peered over his shoulder at Elisabeth, and then, just as she was about to call him, jumped up and clambered over the wall, disappearing into the park beyond. “Growser!” called Elisabeth sharply. “Come back here.” She waited; there was no response. She pounded on her leg with a gloved fist. “Growser,” she shouted again. The dog did not return. Elisabeth looked at the wall, then at her horse, and finally at the empty road before her. “Splendid,” she said to herself. “Whatever am I to do now?”

  Ten minutes later, after a hurried survey of the area, she hadn’t yet answered this question to her own satisfaction. The only way for her to follow Growser was either to try to climb over the wall in her cumbersome habit or to ride boldly up to the gate and inquire for her cousin. Neither seemed attractive to her at the moment. She was, in fact, wishing she had remained quietly at home while Derek Wincannon and his groom followed Growser across the countryside.

  Providence did not intervene, and at last, she straightened her shoulders and started for the gate. Having ridden all this way, she had to carry through. When, or if, the gatekeeper disavowed all knowledge of Tony, she would turn and go home, leaving Growser to fend for himself as he had left her.

  Elisabeth rode smartly up to the gate and looked about her. The intricate wrought-iron panels stood open, and she could see some rust here and there. The lodge was a little distance up the avenue, nearly hidden behind a dense screen
of currant bushes and weeds. Like the drive, it was not well kept up; clearly, the park grounds had not enjoyed the attentions of a gardener for some years. “It looks rather like Willowmere,” said Elisabeth meditatively, “though not quite so dilapidated.” She rode over to the lodge and rapped on the door with her riding crop, steeling herself for an encounter with the gatekeeper.

  There was no answer to her knock, nor to the second or the third. Elisabeth was forced to conclude that no one was home. She leaned down and hesitantly peered through the dirty window of the house. At first, she could see nothing, but when she had rubbed a clean spot on the glass, she realized that the room beyond was empty. The house was disused. “Well, that is anticlimactic,” she said, speaking aloud to herself again. “I wonder if Growser has led me to an abandoned estate. Perhaps he has only run off after a rabbit.” She guided her horse back to the middle of the avenue and sat still for a moment, then, with a shrug, she started up the drive.

  It led her on a winding progress of at least a mile, through a heavily wooded park much overgrown with underbrush. The afternoon sun was disappearing under thick clouds, and it was dark under the trees; Elisabeth increased her pace a bit. Finally, she saw a house ahead, and the lights visible in some of the windows reassured her. “At least it isn’t abandoned,” she said, and urged her mare on. The drive curved about in front of the house and continued on behind. There was no block to be seen, so Elisabeth slid from her horse near the door. The stiffness of her muscles was even more obvious as she walked up to it.

  She hesitated only a minute before knocking; she was, after all, committed now. This time, her first attempt brought an immediate answer. A young housemaid opened the door and looked at her with some astonishment. “Good evening,” said Elisabeth, with all the assurance she could muster. “I am here to see my cousin, Anthony Brinmore.” She was rather pleased with this statement. It expressed so much more confidence than she felt.