The Gamble

by Joan Wolf

  “He seems very nice,” I said with a regrettable lack of enthusiasm.

  Catherine, who it appeared to me was evincing more and more of an ability to ignore her mother, gave me a searching look through her spectacles. “I must say, you don’t sound very enthusiastic, Georgie. Don’t you love him?”

  I toyed with the slice of cold roast beef on my plate. “He’s nice enough, Catherine,” I said. “I am certain that we shall deal very well together.”

  Catherine looked both worried and unconvinced.

  Lady Winterdale bestowed upon me one of the few approving looks I had ever won from her. “A very sensible attitude, Georgiana,” she said. “This business of love is all very well for the lower classes, but when it comes to marriage a girl needs to look at the realities. I can assure you, any well-brought-up girl would find love in a cottage very unpleasant indeed.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said listlessly, and pushed my roast beef to the side. I did not feel like eating.

  Mr. Stanhope presented himself precisely at two o’clock in the afternoon. Lady Winterdale took him into the library and sent for me. As soon as I came into the room she departed, saying with an archness that did not become her at all, “Well, I will leave you two young people alone for a few moments, then.”

  The door closed behind her and I looked at Mr. Stanhope. He was standing in front of the fireplace, under the Stubbs painting, and he immediately struck me as an interloper. His hair might be black, but his brows were boringly level and his eyes were light green, not blue. He smiled at me. “I think you must know why I am here, Miss Newbury,” he said.

  I made myself smile back. “Yes,” I said, “I think I do.”

  He came across the floor and took my hands into his. No shock of awareness leaped through my blood at his touch. He said soberly, “I hope very much that you will marry me, Georgiana. I have come to love you dearly, and my life would seem very empty indeed if I never saw your smile again.”

  It was scarcely a declaration of great passion, but I did not think he was a passionate man. Perhaps that was just as well, I thought. It would have been more difficult being married to a man like Frank, who would have known that something was missing in me that should have belonged to him.

  I said stiffly, “You do me a great honor, Mr. Stanhope. I shall try to be a good wife to you.”

  He gave me the warmest smile I had ever had from him and said, “My name is George, Georgiana.”

  That made me laugh. “We sound like a pair of dogs.”

  He put up his hands and cupped my face gently between his palms. Then he bent his mouth to mine.

  His lips were cool and I felt none of the disgust I had experienced when old fishmouth had kissed me. I closed my eyes, and let him keep on kissing me, and thought desperately that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad being his wife.

  A knock sounded on the door and Mr. Stanhope lifted his head and stepped away from me just as Lady Winterdale swept back into the room. Mr. Stanhope smiled at her and said a little breathlessly, “Lady Winterdale, I am happy to tell you that Miss Newbury has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife.”

  Lady Winterdale gave me a sour look. “I wish you very happy, Georgiana. You are a very lucky girl.”

  I didn’t feel lucky, however, I felt miserable.

  George took a ring out of his pocket and slipped it on my finger. It was an absolutely huge diamond. It weighed my finger down.

  “It is magnificent,” I said. I gave him the brightest smile I could conjure up. “Come,” I said, “let’s go into the drawing room. I want to break the news to Catherine.”

  CHAPTER

  thirteen

  GEORGE AND I AGREED NOT TO FORMALLY announce our engagement until after I had paid a visit to his family at his estate in Derby. This delay suited me very well, although when I informed Lord Winterdale of our plans, he disagreed. He thought the notice should be sent to the newspapers as soon as possible in the hope that it might reassure all of Papa’s blackmail victims. I could understand his reasoning, but I found his eagerness to be rid of me excessively depressing.

  That evening at Almack’s I told Lord Borrow that I would not be able to meet his mother. He was not pleased.

  “Does this mean that I should shortly be expecting to hear an announcement about your engagement?” he demanded.

  We were standing together in front of one of the windows in the ballroom waiting for the next dance to form up.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “We are not making it public just yet, but I certainly do not wish to give you or your mother a false idea of my situation, my lord.”

  “Who is it, Sloan or Stanhope?” he asked abruptly.

  “Mr. Stanhope,” I replied.

  He looked down at me and for a moment his chocolate brown eyes wore the expression of a wounded animal. I felt terrible.

  “Well, then,” he said in a strangely staccato voice, “I see that I must wish you happy.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. “You are very kind.”

  The rest of the week passed in much the same way as usual: morning visits and shopping; afternoon musicales, receptions, and drives in the park; and evening balls. Ironically I saw George less than I usually did as he had gone into the country to break the news of his engagement to his parents.

  I did endure one very chilly visit from George’s sister, who was obviously not pleased with her brother’s choice of a bride. I devoutly hoped that Miss Stanhope would soon find a husband of her own (one who was not Lord Winterdale) and so remove herself from my vicinity.

  Several days before I was due to leave for my visit to George’s home in Derby, I pleaded a headache and declined an invitation to accompany Lady Winterdale and Catherine to a garden party at a famous house outside of London. Instead I paid a quiet visit to the circulating library to collect some books to take with me into the country. I returned to Grosvenor Square to find Nanny waiting for me in the front hall in a state of hysterics.

  “Thank God you have come home, Miss Georgiana,” she cried. “I didn’t know what I should do. Miss Anna has been kidnapped!”

  I could feel the blood congeal in my veins. “Kidnapped?” I repeated. “What on earth do you mean, Nanny?”

  The two of us were standing in the middle of the entrance hall, and I could see Mason standing by the dining-room door, while the footman who had let me in was still at his post by the front door. Nanny, who was usually so careful not to say anything in front of the servants, had clutched my arm and was rushing on, “After you left for the library, she went outdoors to the park in the middle of the square to get some air. I’ve let her go out there before. The Spenser children from Number 12 play out there often. But this time, when I looked for her an hour later, she was gone.”

  “You let her go out alone?” I asked incredulously.

  “No, of course not!” Nanny’s eyes, which had always reminded me of raisins they were so small and so dark, were full of fear. “Mary, one of the housemaids, was watching her. But, oh, Miss Georgiana! Someone hit poor Mary over the head and she still has not recovered consciousness!”

  I knew then that Anna had truly been kidnapped, and I also knew who had taken her. My stomach heaved.

  “Where is his lordship?” I asked, looking around the entrance hall as if I might find him hiding in a corner.

  It was Mason who answered, advancing down the hall toward me from his position by the dining room. “I have sent footmen all over town to look for him, Miss Newbury. We are hoping to see him shortly.”

  “Have you sent for a doctor for Mary?” I asked Nanny distractedly.

  “That we have.” Tears began to stream down Nanny’s worn face. “Oh Miss Georgiana, why would anyone want to take Miss Anna?”

  At that moment, the front door was pushed open and Lord Winterdale came striding into the hall. He saw me and for a moment I could have sworn there was a flash of relief in his eyes. Then he scowled. “What the devil is going on here?�
� he demanded. “I’ve just had three of my footmen converge upon me at Jackson’s boxing saloon. What is this dire and urgent matter that requires my immediate attention?”

  I said in a voice that was almost as hysterical as Nanny’s had been when she greeted me, “Anna has been kidnapped, and I know it was Lord Marsh who took her!”

  He went very still. Then he said, “Come into the drawing room,” and went to hold the door for me. We both went inside and he closed the door again, shutting out Nanny as well as the servants.

  Lord Winterdale threw his hat and his gloves down upon the rosewood cabinet and said grimly, “How do you know it was Marsh?”

  “Because we met him the other morning when we went for a walk in the park. I didn’t tell you, my lord, but you were right—he was coming home as we were going out and he stopped us at the bottom of Oxford Street.” I felt myself swept by anguish. “His eyes were all over Anna,” I said.

  Lord Winterdale cursed.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I said desperately. “What will he do to her?”

  “Nothing, if I can catch him in time,” Lord Winterdale returned grimly. “How long has she been missing?”

  “Nanny said she went out to the park in the middle of the square just after I left for the library, and that was at eleven o’clock. Nanny did not discover that she was missing for an hour, so she could have been taken any time between eleven and twelve.”

  He nodded. “All right. Let us hope that he doesn’t have that long a start.”

  “Will he have taken her to his house here in London?” I asked fearfully, thinking that if he only had to take her a mile away, he had plenty long enough to do his damage.

  Lord Winterdale began to pace like a panther up and down the middle of the pink-and-blue Persian rug. The sunlight from the window slanted in and caught the crystal drops in the chandelier, reflecting rays of rainbows on his coal black head. “I doubt it. His wife is in town for the Season, and he is unlikely to be using his London house for any nefarious purposes while she is around.”

  “But she may not be around today,” I said, and I could hear that the note of hysteria had crept back into my voice. I paused, trying to get a grip upon myself. “There is a huge garden party out at Staine House this afternoon. I’m sure Lady Marsh will be going there.”

  “Even if she is not on the premises, her servants are,” Lord Winterdale pointed out. “And Marsh is cagey enough to realize that if he is actually caught with Anna, he will be called to account by the law. She’s not a little girl from the gutter about whom no questions will be asked. No, he’ll think himself far safer at his country estate than he will be in London. That way it will be easy to use her and then to get rid . . .”

  He must have seen my face because he broke off abruptly. “Don’t worry, Miss Newbury, it won’t come to that. I will go after him immediately.” He went to the door, threw it open and shouted, “Mason!”

  The butler hurried into the room so quickly that I knew he must have been hovering just outside in the hall. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Send to the stables and have the grays put to the phaeton. And tell them to be quick.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lord Winterdale strode across the room to pick up his gloves, and I said, “I am going with you.”

  He stopped and turned to look at me. “No, you are not. Marsh’s main seat is near Winchester and even driving fast, which I will certainly be doing, it will take me over five hours to get there. That is too long a ride for you in an open carriage.”

  “My lord,” I said in a level tone, “if you do not take me in your carriage, then I will steal one of the horses from the stable the moment you are gone and follow you in the saddle.”

  Our eyes met and held. He saw my resolution and said in a voice that was surprisingly mild, “You have always been a consummate blackmailer.”

  I didn’t even flinch. “When we find Anna, she will need me.”

  He hesitated, then nodded once. “There can certainly be no doubt of that. All right, Miss Newbury, you may come. The horses should be at the door in ten minutes’ time. Go and get yourself ready.”

  * * *

  We made a quick stop at Lord Marsh’s town house in Berkeley Square and Lord Marsh’s butler told Lord Winterdale that his master was at his club. Lord Winterdale then paid a visit to the stables behind the earl’s house, where he discovered that both the town chaise and the barouche, a partially covered type of carriage, were gone.

  “The Head Groom told me that Lady Marsh took the town chaise to the party, but Marsh took the barouche. Said he had some important business to attend to in the country and would be back in two days’ time.”

  “Then the butler lied,” I said.

  “The butler probably does not know yet, and probably won’t know until Lady Marsh returns from the garden party. Marsh certainly wouldn’t have wanted his butler giving me information as to his real whereabouts should I tumble to the fact that it was he who took Anna.”

  He was threading his way through the streets of London as he spoke and I sat quietly beside him and let him concentrate on his driving. The phaeton was a light carriage, and he had his four magnificent grays hitched to it. There was no doubt that we would be able to make better time than Lord Marsh, whose horses were not as good as Lord Winterdale’s (no one’s were) and who was driving a heavier carriage.

  Ironically, we left London on the same road that we would have taken if we had been going to Staine House, where the garden party was being held that afternoon. Neither of us spoke as the grays cantered steadily along the highway that would take us steadily southwest into Hampshire.

  We had set out at one-thirty in the afternoon and by four we were on the Hampshire border. At five-thirty we were at Basingstoke, where we stopped briefly to water the horses and for Lord Winterdale to drink a glass of beer and me a glass of lemonade.

  We occasioned a bit of notice at the inn in Basingstoke. Lord Winterdale, of course, was less of a novelty than I was. The sight of a gentleman traveling the highway in his phaeton was not unusual. It was definitely unusual for a young lady to be accompanying him.

  Not for the first time I worried what was going to be the outcome of this adventure for me.

  Resolutely, I pushed the thought from my mind. I had had no choice. As ever, Anna’s need had to come before mine.

  We set out from Basingstoke and turned south, toward King Alfred’s capital of Winchester. Resolutely, I turned my attention to the countryside, which, in this part of the world was gentle, with no high hills or deep valleys. Indeed, the most notable part of the landscape was the hedgerows with which the country was honeycombed. Under these irregular borders of copse-wood and timber I could see spring primroses and anemones and wild hyacinths. I stared at them and tried not to let awful pictures of Anna and Lord Marsh form in my mind.

  The grays were tired by the time we turned off the main road and trotted slowly down the lane that Lord Winterdale said would take us to Marsh Hall. I was tired, too, and very cold. It was a cold that went deeper than the mere chill a drop in the temperature can produce, however. This cold went right through to my bones.

  For five long hours I had been praying that we would catch Marsh and Anna on the road, and we had not done so.

  It was almost seven as we turned into the great iron gates that suddenly loomed beside the road and began the last part of our journey up the graveled drive.

  “What if he isn’t here after all?” I said to Lord Winterdale, trying not to betray my despair. “What if he’s taken her to his hunting box? Or to another one of his estates?”

  “We shall soon know the answer to those questions,” came the comfortless reply. His profile was hard and bleak against the pink-tinged sky.

  “Oh God,” I said. “I have been praying and praying that we would come up with them on the road.”

  “I know. So have I.”

  I began to shiver. “What if he has raped her? She’ll never get over it.�
�

  “If he has raped her, I will kill him,” Lord Winterdale said calmly. “Let us hope that we are in time, however. Don’t make yourself ill until we know what our situation is.”

  I stared at him. I will kill him. He had said it as rationally as one might say, I will invite him to dinner. My shivering became worse.

  At that moment, we rounded a turn in the drive and the house came into view. All I noticed at the time was that it was a rather strange conglomeration of diapered brickwork and an array of mullioned and transomed windows, which suggested a Jacobean house, with a hipped roof and gleaming central cupola, which was more characteristic of the reign of Charles II. I was scarcely in the mood to evaluate the architectural idiosyncrasies of Lord Marsh’s abode, however, and sat, tense and rigid on the seat next to Lord Winterdale, as we pulled up to the front door and Lord Winterdale leaped down to knock imperatively on the front door. I scrambled down from the phaeton by myself and went to stand beside him.

  After a wait of at least two minutes, it was opened by a butler who looked at Lord Winterdale with an expression on his face that could only be described as put out.

  “I am the Earl of Winterdale,” his lordship said commandingly, “and I am looking for Lord Marsh.”

  The butler looked even more put out. “Lord Marsh is not here, my lord. He is in London.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. After all this, we had made the wrong move. Anna wasn’t here after all.

  My shivering became even worse. What were we going to do now? Where could she be?

  Oh Anna, I thought in despair. This is all my fault. I should have married old fishmouth and kept you safe in Sussex.

  “I believe we will come in and look for ourselves,” Lord Winterdale said, and pushed his way past the butler into the house. I followed in his footsteps.

  The butler was outraged. “You can’t come bulling your way in here, my lord,” he said.