Both men subsided into restless silence and they hastened onward toward London, changing the houses frequently to make the fastest time possible. It was impossible to make it to London in one day, no matter how fast they traveled, so they finally broke their journey to seize a bit of sleep and rest the weary horses. Rising at dawn the next day, they hurried on their way once more and clattered up to the cold stone facade of the Bethlem Royal Hospital late that morning.
Philip stared in fascinated disgust at the ghoulish statues gracing the front gate. In the light of day they looked eerie and almost farcical. He shuddered to think what they'd look like by the light of the moon. As he gazed past the iron gates to the granite building beyond, he heard the sounds emanating from within and knew the young lady could not have survived these months if she had truly been left there. But surely Edwin would have been notified of her death, and he seemed truly not to know where she was. This assurance fortified the earl to step through the gates and proceed with his investigation.
Upon their entrance to the courtyard, a great bull of a guard hailed them. He lumbered toward them with a welcoming grin that exposed the few blackened teeth that remained in his mouth. His pockmarked face with its squinty, piglike eyes surrounded by his wild and lanky hair was the stuff of nightmares, and Philip struggled to suppress a shudder as the guard drew up before them. When he spoke, a gust of putrefied air wafted toward Philip, but he managed to keep his face impassive.
"Mornin', guv'nor. Is you here to see the inmates? We charge a fee, ya know"
"Actually, my good man, we are here to collect one of your inmates, not for a viewing. Could you please point us in the direction of the warden or director of this establishment?" Philip inquired politely, although disgusted at the thought of spectators coming to view the residents of the "hospital"
"Well, guv'nor, there's a fee for that too"
"I'm sure there is," replied Philip resignedly as he flipped some coins toward the guard's eagerly waiting hand.
"Warden's through that door over there-can't miss 'im." The guard pointed. "I'll keep an eye out for your carriage, guv'nor," he offered generously.
"That would be most appreciated," answered Philip dryly as he turned toward the door that had been pointed out.
As the two men entered the building, they were assailed by the pungent stench of a multitude of unwashed bodies. James nearly gagged before getting himself under control. By taking short breaths through their mouths, they managed to maintain their composure as they went in search of whoever was in charge of the horrific place.
After a moment another ghoulish-looking brute of a man approached them, wanting to know what business they had there. After they identified themselves, the man's demeanor changed, and he ushered them into his office, trying to appear genial. Philip tried to remain polite, knowing that they would get no information out of this man if he felt threatened in any way. As Philip explained the purpose of their call, the man appeared incredulous.
"Don't have no marchionesses here, milord, I'm sure of that. If you want, you can go check for yourselves, search through the women and see if she's here, but I know for sure she ain't." He was edging toward belligerence, so Philip tried another tack.
"I don't mean to question your establishment, sir. We have been searching for this young woman for a few months now, and this is where our trail has led us. I myself actually doubted that she would be here. Is it possible she was here and died?" Philip asked hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.
His effort at gentleness paid off; the warden appeared more reasonable. "Never been any marchionesses in Bedlam, milord. The Quality looks after their crazies on their own" He paused for a moment in thought. "Haven't had any dead in a while either, 'cept for one old geezer who croaked a couple weeks back. But you said this was a young woman, didn't you?"
Philip felt a powerful mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief that the young noblewoman wasn't enduring such a place, but disappointment that he was at another dead end in his search and had no further leads to go on. He decided to ask one more question before they left.
"Just to be certain, could you think back over the last several months? Have you had any noblemen deliver any patients here?"
The warden sighed deeply in thought. "Let's see. I can only think of one example. Lord Maximilian dropped off a poor, unfortunate girl about five or six months ago. Pretty young thing she was. He said she had gone crackers thinking she was Quality when she was just a housemaid. He paid real good to have her locked up by herself-said she needed `time to reflect,' whatever that was supposed to mean"
Philip's stomach fairly dropped into his boots. Maximillian Woolfe. He closed his eyes for a moment to absorb his anger, not wanting to stem the flow of information.
James asked the next question. "And is she still here, this pretty little maid?" He couldn't quite keep the scorn from his tone, but the warden didn't seem to notice.
"She was a wily one, she was. She was only here a few weeks before she escaped. Escaped! Can you imagine? We never let 'em get away, and a young wench manages it," he declared in disgust. "Don't know what happened to her after that. We couldn't find her. She's probably dead, she was so cracked in the head, and then wandering around by herself. Escaped at night, you know, on foot. No chance she'd make it very far."
"How hard did you search?" questioned Philip harshly, unable to contain his wrathful disgust at the thought of the young marchioness being confined in such a place.
"We searched hard, let me tell you. Won't get much coin from his lordship if we don't hold on to the wench, will we?" was the shrewd reply. "Why do you care, anyway, about a cracked servant? She was always yammering on, crying for her nurse and offering to pay us if we'd let her go"
"Did it never occur to you that there was something shady about a lord's paying so handsomely for you to keep his maid?" Philip wondered.
"It's not for me to ask questions, milord," was the lofty reply.
There was a moment of silence while Philip thought about what to do next. "Would anyone here have any information about where the girl could have gone?"
"No. Believe me, I did everything I could to find out. I really did not want to tell his lordship we'd lost his servant."
"So you did inform him eventually? What was his reaction?"
"At first he was powerful angry. Threatened to kill us all, which, of course, was an empty threat, as you can see" The huge man grinned, gesturing to his physique. "But after he calmed down, he started to laugh. I think he might be cracked in the head too, come to think of it"
"You're right; I think he is `cracked in the head' too" Philip shook his head in disgust. Another dead end. But now they truly knew the lengths Edwin and his friend would go to. The old nurse was right; they had taken the young marchioness to Bedlam. The king would have Ridley's head.
Philip and James thanked the man and paid him for his cooperation before trudging back to their carriage despondently. They drove in silence back to the London house. Philip realized it was his duty to inform the king of the results of his search. It was not an interview he was looking forward to. The normally levelheaded monarch was known to have a temper and would be very angry at this development. He might even blame the earl for how long it had taken to get this information.
Sure enough, the audience with the king did not go well the next day. His Majesty was furious that one of his nobles could be so reprehensible. But he kept his anger rightly directed toward Ridley, who by late afternoon had been dragged before the king to explain himself. There truly was no evidence that the girl Bedlam had lost was the missing marchioness, and Edwin denied all knowledge of the incident. What business was it of his if his friend wanted to have one of his servants locked up, he questioned in a reasonable tone. And he explained that the old nurse was grieving and not in her right mind. Who would the king believe, the viscount or the nurse? Despite his anger and mistrust, the king had little choice but to concede that there was no proof
of Ridley's misconduct and had to let him go.
After Edwin was dismissed from the room, Philip and his king mulled the matter over in great detail.
"So we're back to where we started," declared Philip in disgust. "The marchioness is missing, and we have no idea where to look for her."
"She is most likely dead, Yorkleigh," was the king's caustic conclusion.
"Your Majesty, with all due respect, I refuse to accept that she's dead. If she managed to escape from Bedlam, she's a resourceful chit and would have found a way to survive," argued Philip.
"You may be right. She would reach her twenty-first birthday about two months from now. If she has not shown herself by a month after that, however, she shall be declared dead and all her holdings and titles will be disposed of as I see fit," decided the king.
"Very well, Your Majesty." Philip had to be satisfied with that. Although he was filled with frustration at his inability to find any trace of the young woman, he was convinced that she was alive somewhere, waiting until Edwin had no hold over her before she revealed herself and claimed her true position. He would have to be satisfied with waiting it out. He had come to take the matter quite personally and was determined to make the acquaintance of the young woman who had lead him on such a chase.
Ridley Manor
Lord Maximillian Woolfe was pacing rhythmically in front of the large oak desk behind which sat the viscount idly sipping from a fine crystal tumbler with an unattractively amused sneer upon his face.
"Why didn't you shut her up in a more permanent manner? It's not like you to be so squeamish," demanded Lord Max with a scornful curl to his lips.
"Before you get on your high horse about which of us did not do an adequate job, I'm not the one who used my own name when I dropped my `maid' off at Bedlam," countered the viscount sneeringly, as he took another swig of the old marquis' fine port.
"I can't believe the little trollop managed to escape. You have to give her credit for being a sneaky little wench. Such a pity she refused my attentions; it would have been such pleasure to try to tame the wretched shrew," leered Max. "Where do you suppose she went?"
"I have no idea, nor do I give a rat's behind as long as she stays gone. I have been informed that if she does not turn up before one month past her birthday, all her assets shall be absorbed by the Crown. We have to figure out how to liquidate as much of those assets as possible so that they can be `absorbed' by us instead of crazy old George," pronounced Ridley greedily as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of taking possession of his cousin's wealth.
"How are we going to manage that with that interfering Earl of Yorkleigh forever under foot, putting his nose into business which is none of his concern?" whined Woolfe plaintively.
"Now who's being squeamish?" demanded Ridley contemptuously. "There's always a way," he reminded his friend as they set to scheming. "We just have to make sure the earl and the king cannot find the alterations we'll make in the books. As the little witch's guardian, I have the right to view the accounts. We need to go back to the other estates and get started right away. We'll start at Westland, since you already proved they're the easiest lot to deal with."
After they had discussed the matter at length, Woolfe pondered contemplatively, "What do you suppose would happen to us if the king ever found out what we're doing?"
With a slight shudder and an evil grin, Ridley replied, "Let's not find out, eh? You have a contact that might be interested in some horseflesh, right? My cousin the marquis always kept a fine stable. Let's start there, then move on to the accounts and rents. The important thing to remember is discretion. We absolutely do not want King George or any of his peons catching wind of what we're doing."
"That's for bloody sure," affirmed Max feelingly as he agreed with the viscount's plan to procure them all the wealth they lusted after. He then had another evil thought. "Maybe we should make sure the nurse can't share her crazy ideas with anyone else. And while we're at it, the warden at the hospital could be taken care of too"
"That would have been a good idea before, but now it would just cause more questions. Better leave well enough alone. It's better to concentrate on the money while we still have some time," concluded Ridley, his greedy scheme uppermost in his mind.
"Fine, let's leave for Westland tomorrow," decided Woolfe as he stopped his pacing and stepped out of the library to set their plans into motion.
Over the weeks following the house party, while Philip and James were traipsing all over England, the countess and her companion drifted into a comfortable pattern. Emily would assist the countess with her personal correspondence as well as keeping her company throughout the day. They continued to keep in touch with the families who had visited during the house party, with the exception of the Sedgelys, from whom the only word they received was a tersely worded message of thanks soon after they had returned home.
When she was not occupied with Lady Clara, Emily spent time each day in the library, the garden, and the stables. Lady Clara busied herself with visiting the tenants on the estate. Emily accompanied her on many of these visits and ended up adding the tenants to the list of her admirers. The other servants at Rosemount debated the issue as to what it was they liked most about the young woman. Mrs. Parks was the one who finally summed it up: "She's Quality. That's all there is to it. She may have a questionable background, but it's obvious she's genuine Quality." They had all grown fond of her and her gracious, kind ways.
As the days turned into weeks, despite how much she was enjoying life at Rosemount, Emily continued to be troubled by the problems of her past and the feeling that she was living a deception. She was chafing under the fact that she was in hiding. Her parents had always taught her that she needed to confront her problems head-on, not hide from them. She felt impotent, though, in the face of the power wielded by her guardian, and she feared his discovery of her whereabouts while he still had the power to control her. After endless mental struggling and debates within herself, she decided that keeping herself safe until coming of age wasn't an act of cowardice; it would actually be foolhardy to jeopardize her entire future instead of just waiting it out.
She spent many hours contemplating how she would find an audience with the king when the time came to hand her problems over to the sovereign. She realized she would have to get to London somehow. She was determined to be content for the time being, but she couldn't help moments of melancholy as she contemplated the complications in her life.
Despite the fact that Lady Clara was enjoying her stay at Rosemount more than she ever had-she attributed her peacefulness to Emily's presence-she was getting restive once more and decided a change of scenery would be just the thing to put a spring back into her step. She truly enjoyed the company of the young woman who had become her companion, but nothing in life had been the same since her dear husband died, and she grew restless easily. Lady Clara decided she wanted to move again. She was in the small salon working her needlepoint with Emily when she broached the subject that had been on her mind of late as the summer had faded into fall and winter was fast approaching.
"Emily, my dear, I've been thinking," she commenced.
"Not too hard, I hope," teased Emily with a smile.
"No, you imp, I want no disrespect from you! Be serious," chided the countess. "I have been thinking we ought to go up for the Season. It has been delightful here these months with you, but I think I'm getting a bit bored of Rosemount for now. Let's go see the sights of London. There is so much that I would like to show you. And it shall be new once more for me, seeing it through your eyes. You are always so enthusiastic about everything. I think you are bored too. You lapse into these silences and have such a sad look in your eyes at times. What do you say? Maybe we'll even find ourselves a couple of beaux"
Emily turned bright eyes upon the countess. "London! Oh, I would love to see London! How exciting. But I have been enjoying our time here; I have not been bored at all, my lady. Will we get to see some plays, an
d walk in the parks, and shop in all the stores I have only ever heard about?" She paused a moment to contain her excitement before continuing to put words to her dearest wish. "And see the king?" she whispered reverentially.
The countess laughed, delighted by Emily's enthusiasm, and agreed to all that Emily suggested. The two women then began to make their plans. The countess called one of the footmen in to take a note 'round to Juliette, the dressmaker.
"We will need some fresh gowns so as not to put ourselves to shame as country bumpkins, you know, my dear."
The women giggled together as they began to make their plans. They looked through the fashion plates Juliette had left the last time she was there, picking styles they thought would be appropriate for the city. Emily didn't know what was fashionable among the ton, but as always her sense of style came to the fore. Lady Clara was so pleased to see the sparkle of interest back in Emily's face; she had begun to worry about her young friend, since she had become so quiet of late. But now the two chattered away happily, thinking of all the entertainments that would be available to them when they reached the capital. Lady Clara realized they should let her friends know they were coming so they would have invitations waiting for them upon their arrival. Emily decided they should tell the Waddells, Eastwicks, and Fitzgeralds that they would be coming too.
"You are going to love London, Emily," the countess declared.
"I think we will be wishing for Rosemount's quiet before too much time spent in London, from the sounds of it," spoke Emily wisely. "But I'm sure we are going to have fun while we exhaust ourselves" After another laugh together, Emily asked some practical questions. "When shall I tell the housekeeper of the London house to expect us? Should we notify his lordship of our intentions?"
"Yes, we should let Philip know what we are up to, I suppose. I will write to him. You can write to Rose in London and tell her to ready the house for us to arrive in about two weeks. If Philip hasn't been there recently, things may need to be aired out and so on. Juliette can prepare us a few gowns here, and then we can visit a London modiste for more later. Two weeks should give us enough time to get ourselves ready, don't you think?"
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