The Silverton Scandal

by Amanda Grange

  Then, seeming to come to a sudden resolution, he looked her in the eyes.

  ‘Eleanor, I need to know whether —’

  ‘Eleanor! There you are!’

  Lydia’s happy voice broke in on them.

  Lucien cursed under his breath, and Eleanor tried to swallow her disappointment and frustration. She had the feeling he had been about to explain why he had been so distant and cold. Although perhaps it was better not to hear it. To have him put it into words; to hear him say, ‘Eleanor, I’m sorry if I gave you a false impression, but I don’t love you,’ would have been just too terrible.

  But now Lydia and Frederick had joined them, and he would have no chance to say anything further.

  ‘Isn’t this the most wonderful wedding!’ sighed Lydia. ‘Arabella looks like a dream. And Charles looks so handsome. It is the best wedding I can ever remember - apart from my children’s and my own, that is!’

  ‘I’m glad to see you here, Silverton,’ said Frederick. ‘The last time I saw you you didn’t think you were going to be able to make it.’

  The gentlemen were soon deep in conversation, and Lydia drew Eleanor a little aside.

  ‘My dear Eleanor, I know it’s none of my business, but as your mother is no longer alive I am sure you will not mind if I give you a word of advice.’ She hesitated, and then said in a rush, ‘I don’t like to think of you making an assignation with a man like that.’

  Eleanor’s spirits sank. Evidently Lydia had seen her going into the conservatory, and had seen Lucien going in a few minutes after her.

  ‘Oh, I know what you’re going to say,’ went on Lydia. ‘He’s from a good family. And it’s true. But all the same, I shouldn’t like a daughter of mine getting mixed up with him.’

  ‘I know Lord Silverton has a wild reputation,’ said Eleanor, wondering how much she should say, ‘but —’

  ‘Lucien?’ Lydia looked surprised. ‘No, I don’t mean Lucien. He might be wild, but underneath he’s an honourable man. No, it’s not Lucien I’m talking about.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘I wanted to find you earlier,’ she continued. ‘I was going to invite you to spend a few weeks with Frederick and myself when Arabella went off on her wedding tour. We have a mind to go to Derbyshire, and we thought you might like to join us. I saw you slipping into the conservatory.

  ‘There’s no need to worry,’ she hurried on, ‘I won’t say anything to anyone. But I have heard things about him that make me concerned. When Caroline, my youngest daughter, had her come-out I learnt all about the eligible young men who attended the Season’s entertainments, and the things I heard about him made me want to keep Caroline away from him. I know I shouldn’t interfere but . . . well, my dear, I should be happier if you did not see him again.’

  Eleanor was having difficulty following the thread of Lydia’s conversation.

  ‘The man I met in the conservatory?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Lydia nodded.

  ‘Who is not Lord Silverton?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But I didn’t meet anyone in the conservatory,’ she said.

  ‘So you didn’t meet Mr Drayforth?’ Lydia gave a sigh of relief. ‘Forgive me, my dear. I have been jumping to conclusions. But when I saw him watching you, and then I saw him slipping into the conservatory, with you following him a minute or two later, I naturally assumed —’

  ‘Drayforth?’ Eleanor’s stomach lurched and she felt a sudden ringing in her ears.

  ‘Yes. I thought you’d gone to see him.’

  ‘You mean Mr Drayforth was in the conservatory?’ she asked in a whisper.

  ‘Yes. Didn’t you see him?’

  ‘No.’

  Eleanor thought of all the greenery in the conservatory, where the citrus trees and the potted plants obscured carefully-placed seats and secret corners. If Mr Drayforth had been in the conservatory when she had entered it then he had heard everything she had said to Lucien.

  ‘My dear, are you all right?’ asked Lydia in concern. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’

  ‘No, I feel a little faint.’

  Eleanor’s eyes went to Lucien. He and Frederick had walked across the room in search of something to drink.

  ‘I think if we could rejoin the gentlemen . . . ’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Of course, my dear. One of them can find you a seat.’

  The two ladies set off across the room, but just as Eleanor thought they were going to be able to reach the gentlemen, strong hands seized her from behind and thrust her to the side. She tried to twist out of her abductor’s hands, but she was held in a vice-like grip.

  Thwarted in this, she opened her mouth to call for help, but a snake-like voice said, ‘I shouldn’t do that, if I were you. Your lady friend’s perfectly safe at the moment. She thinks she was separated from you in the crush. Look, she’s over there, trying to find you.’

  Eleanor saw that such was the case. Lydia was turning round, looking bewildered, not far away.

  ‘Do you see that man behind her?’

  Eleanor saw a tall man dogging Lydia’s footsteps.

  ‘As long as you co-operate he will do nothing. But one sound from you and it’ll be the worse for her.’

  Before Eleanor could think of a way out of her predicament, much less act, she was pushed out of the drawing-room, along the landing and into a small anteroom. It was dark. Only the glow coming from the fire illuminated it. A figure detached itself from the shadows and in the flickering light of the flames Eleanor recognised Mr Drayforth.

  He lit the candles that stood on the mantelpiece and then turned to face her.

  ‘So, Miss Grantham, it seems you recognised me at the coaching inn,’ he said. ‘A pity.’ He took her chin between his fingers and turned her face to his. Eleanor, her arms held behind her back, wrenched her face away.

  Drayforth laughed softly.

  ‘I suggest you let me go,’ she said. ‘I was seen leaving the drawing-room. When Lucien gets here —’

  ‘Ah, yes, your protector. Lord Silverton. Pardon me for mentioning it, Miss Grantham, but he is not a wise choice for a spinster lady to fix on. Lucien is definitely not the marrying kind. You would have done better to develop a tendre for one of the other gentlemen here tonight. Although now, of course, it no longer matters. You have endangered my safety, and no matter how much it pains me to say it, I am going to have to —’

  He broke off as the door opened and Eleanor’s spirits soared. There, framed in the doorway was Lucien.

  She was just about to make a bid for freedom, using his entrance as a distraction, when she suddenly froze. For behind Lucien was another man. And he was holding a pistol to Lucien’s head.

  Drayforth spoke mockingly. ‘My dear Silverton, do come in.’

  ‘Drayforth.’ There was a note of steel in Lucien’s voice. He might be in an unenviable position at the moment, but Eleanor could tell from his tone of voice that he had not given up, and that he meant to change the situation as soon as an opportunity presented itself.

  ‘How kind of you to join us. Miss Grantham and I were just having a little tête-à-tête. But I’m sure we will enjoy it even more if you join us.’

  The man behind Lucien gave a sneer and pushed him roughly into the room.

  ‘What are we going to do with them?’ he demanded.

  ‘You will have to forgive him,’ said Drayforth apologetically. ‘Hoskins has no finesse.’

  The man called Hoskins snorted.

  ‘As to what we’re going to do with them,’ said Drayforth, now addressing Hoskins, ‘that is something I haven’t yet quite decided. But whatever it is, we won’t be doing it here. At least, not anything permanent. There’s too much chance of our being discovered.’

  Hoskins nodded. Then raising his pistol, he brought it down with a crack! on Lucien’s head.

  ‘No!’ Eleanor struggled to break free as Lucien crumpled to the floor, but strong hands held her and she could not go to him.

  And then
she felt a blow to her own head, and everything went black.

  Drayforth looked down at the two bodies that lay at his feet.

  ‘Now what?’ Hoskins spoke brusquely.

  ‘Now we get them away from here,’ Drayforth said.

  ‘And take them to the town house?’

  ‘No. I don’t want them anywhere near the general.’ He looked at Hoskins. ‘You’ve taken care of him?’

  Hoskins nodded. ‘I followed him out of the house and bundled him into a hackney carriage, just like you said. He won’t be telling anyone about what he’s learnt.’

  ‘Good.’ Drayforth turned back to Lucien and Eleanor, who lay unconscious on the floor. ‘Silverton will be useful. He knows a great many things.’

  ‘And the girl?’

  ‘She, too, will be useful. We can use her as a lever to make him talk. We’ll take them to my estate. That way, we can hold them indefinitely with no one being any the wiser.’

  ‘There’ll be a hue and cry,’ objected Hoskins.

  ‘I don’t think so. I have an idea of how to avoid it.’ He looked at Hoskins. ‘Have the carriage taken round to the mews, then take these two out the back way. Make sure you’re not seen. I will join you there when I’ve carried out my plan.’

  Hoskins nodded, and lifted Eleanor’s unconscious form.

  The two ruffians by the door lifted Lucien between them, and once they had departed, Drayforth returned to the ballroom.

  ‘Have you seen Eleanor?’ Lydia asked anxiously as she joined Arabella at the side of the ballroom. ‘I was talking to her just now but she felt faint. Somehow we got separated and I’m worried about her. I hope she’s all right.’

  ‘No,’ said Arabella. ‘I didn’t know she was feeling ill.’

  ‘It came over her suddenly. I dare say it was the heat.’

  At that moment Charles came up.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, as he saw Arabella’s worried face.

  ‘Lydia was talking to Eleanor just now, but she felt unwell and so they went in search of Frederick. But Lydia became separated from her and she hasn’t been able to find her again.’

  ‘If Eleanor was feeling faint, perhaps she went into one of the ante-rooms,’ said Charles practically. ‘It’s a lot cooler in there. I’ll send one of the footmen to look for her.’ He looked round, preparing to call one of the footmen.

  Mr Drayforth, who had drawn closer, caught his eye.

  ‘Yes?’ asked Charles.

  Mr Drayforth hesitated, apparently loath to say what must be said.

  ‘Have you seen her?’ asked Arabella. ‘Is she all right?’

  By this time the people standing nearby had stopped what they were doing and were listening curiously to the tense exchange.

  ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ said Mr Drayforth. He hesitated, then went on with apparent reluctance. ‘The thing is, I overheard your sister talking to Lord Silverton in the conservatory earlier this evening. I did not mean to listen, but they had obviously not seen me as I was obscured by a particularly large plant, and when I was about to reveal myself I heard a host of endearments and stayed where I was - I did not want to cause embarrassment.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Charles coldly.

  ‘They were discussing their plans for a journey,’ continued Mr Drayforth. ‘I did not like to speculate as to the nature of the journey at the time, it being none of my business, but under the circumstances I feel I must speak. I am afraid they have run away together.’

  There was a stunned silence. And then the whispers began, running round the room as the rumour spread like wildfire.

  ‘Run away?’ asked Arabella, looking distinctly pale.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Unless they want to be found, I don’t believe we will see them again.’

  The whispers were becoming louder.

  Charles, regaining his wits, rose to the occasion. Speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear, he said to Arabella, ‘Come, my love. Do not distress yourself: this is all hearsay. You and I know that Eleanor would never run off with anyone, least of all Lord Silverton.

  ‘As for this gentleman,’ he said, turning his head slightly towards Mr Drayforth, ‘I’m sure he is speaking the truth as he knows it, but eavesdroppers’ - he lingered on the word, to make it quite clear what he thought of Mr Drayforth - ‘are prone to misunderstandings. Eleanor was feeling unwell, you say. Then it is my belief she has gone no further than the ladies’ withdrawing room. In fact, it would not surprise me if that is the "journey" Mr Drayforth overheard them discussing. Eleanor, no doubt, was expressing her desire to retire and Lord Silverton, as a gentleman, offered to escort her. I will send one of the servants to enquire after your sister’s health.’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ said Lydia, who had been hovering nearby.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Charles.

  Then he turned back to Arabella. ‘In the meantime, my love, there is someone I am longing for you to meet.’

  Arabella, strengthened by Charles’s expert handling of the situation, took her lead from him, and with surprising assurance she took his hand.

  ‘Of course, Eleanor must have gone to the ladies’ withdrawing room,’ she said calmly. ‘Mr Drayforth must have misheard. As you say, eavesdroppers rarely hear the truth.’

  And with a contemptuous look at Mr Drayforth, she swept past him on Charles’s arm.

  ‘Well done, my love,’ said Charles to Arabella.

  ‘Oh, Charles, I never thought I would be able to do such a thing. But once you stood up to that terrible man I knew I must do the same. Even so, I would not have managed it if you had not been by my side.’

  Charles gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

  ‘But I am worried. What did he mean by inventing such a monstrous thing?’ Her voice wavered. ‘He did invent it, didn’t he? You don’t think Eleanor and Lord Silverton —’

  ‘I think we should wait and see if Eleanor is here.’

  ‘And if Lord Silverton is still here?’

  Charles called over a passing footman and gave him instructions to find Lord Silverton.

  ‘But Charles, what if they really have run off together? Eleanor was talking to Lord Silverton this afternoon. I don’t think she would do such a thing, but perhaps . . . he is so very handsome . . . and I think Eleanor has feelings for him.’

  ‘The most important thing is for us to act as though nothing untoward has happened,’ said Charles, giving Arabella’s arm another squeeze. ‘That way, our guests will decide it is all a hum and the gossip will die down.’

  ‘And if it isn’t a hum?’ asked Arabella, worried.

  His hand tightened over hers. ‘Eleanor is over age. She is old enough to make her own decisions. If she has really run off with Lord Silverton, my love, then I am afraid there is nothing we can do about it.’

  Chapter Nine

  Eleanor felt a rolling movement beneath her as she slowly came to her senses. Her head was throbbing. She felt nauseous, and she could not remember who she was or where she was. But gradually she began to recover her memories. She had been knocked unconscious by Mr Drayforth’s cronies, and evidently she was now in a carriage.

  Cautiously opening her eyes a fraction, she was frustrated to discover that she had been thrown down with her face pressed against the squabs. She could see very little. But the squabs were upholstered in velvet, so it was not a hackney carriage, and its owner must be rich.

  It was Mr Drayforth’s carriage, then, she reasoned. And she was being taken - where?

  She would soon know for certain. The carriage was beginning to slow, and at last it rolled to a halt. Closing her eyes firmly she went limp, so that when she was seized by rough hands, she appeared to be still unconscious. She was slung unceremoniously over someone’s shoulder, and risked opening her eyes a fraction again as she was carried forward. She could see a road beneath her, but it was a rough, narrow one, and she guessed they were not in London.

  Did Mr Drayforth have an estate? she wonder
ed. If so, that was where she guessed they were. But it could not be too far from Bath. The night was not yet dark, so they could not be more than a few hours’ drive away.

  The rough road beneath her gave way to a threshold, and she was carried into a mean dwelling with a rush-strewn floor. She was taken through one large room and into a second, smaller room that led off it.

  She was thrown into a corner, onto a dirty pallet, and left there. Again she could see nothing. Her face was to the wall, and she dare not change her position for fear of drawing attention to herself. But she could hear voices.

  ‘Where shall I put him?’ came a rough voice.

  ‘Over here. Tie him to the chair.’

  There was the sound of a body being set down, and ropes being tied. Her spirits lifted. If he was being tied, then Lucien must still be alive. But then they fell again. He might be alive, but he was bound, and so was she.

  ‘What do we do now?’ came the rough voice again.

  ‘We wait for Drayforth. He’ll want to question them when he gets here. I’m going up to the house. There are some things he wants me to get ready for him. You’re to stay here and keep watch.’

  There was the sound of two sets of footsteps walking out of the room. That was lucky. The ruffian who was to guard them was not going to remain in the same room. She did not know what she could do, but at least if she was not closely watched there was a chance she could do something.

  She waited until the footsteps had stopped, one set going out of the cottage and the other stopping in the next room.

  Then cautiously she tried to stand up. It was difficult with her hands tied, but at last she managed it. Then she went over to Lucien.

  She knelt down in front of him . . . and his eyes opened.

  ‘Lucien!’ she said. ‘You’re alive. Thank God!’

  ‘And you.’ His eyes were warm, and she felt a surge in her spirits. But there was no time for anything further. They must use the time they had alone to plan their escape.