by Ella Edon
He found that the longer he watched, the more his anger grew. This girl was nothing but a very lowly servant and her father had ruined himself, his family, and not a few other men – including Elam – through his drunken ineptitude. It was not at all fair that she should misrepresent herself and gain a rich husband and a life of ease in exchange for her lies.
It was not fair at all.
Abruptly, he jumped down from the box, startling the horses a little with the sound of his boots hitting the cobblestones. "I'm going over to the pub," he growled to Reuben. "It'll be hours yet before this is over. Stay here. Get them some water."
Reuben just nodded. He had seen the coachman get angry before and was not about to object to him leaving for a time.
Elam just turned and stalked away, sick to death of watching lying girls and enraptured farm boys make fools of themselves over each other at their leisure, while honest men had to make do with very little. Perhaps a pint or two would drown his anger before this ball was over.
* * *
It had been a bit of a close call when he'd walked into the grounds of the party, but Thomas found himself rather exhilarated at how well he'd been able to pull off his disguise. He was well aware that he was hiding far more than just his face beneath the black silk scarf tied over his face.
Before his arrival, he had rubbed a little earth into his hands, and had made a point of riding and driving without his gloves for the past few weeks. He had not shaved, since two days before this one and had made sure to pour some pebbles into his left boot, so that he would not forget to limp.
Though he had been raised to learn the strict etiquette of an earl's son from the time he was born, he tried to remember that "Adam Wheeler" had not. So he made a point of committing little errors here and there, such as introducing himself to someone instead of waiting for a mutual friend to do so.
Thomas knew very well that he had nearly been found out when he'd first walked in. He could see all the women, especially, peering at him and whispering to each other. But Beatrice Clarke had insisted that he was nothing but a coachman and that the earl himself was a Feathering Park right now!
Even Grace had helped him, for she knew him only as Adam, and had been quite certain in telling the other girls who he was. Between the two of them, and his limping and studied awkwardness, the ruse had gone over very well.
Now, all he had to do was dance like a coachman instead of an earl, and it would be complete.
He felt relaxed and ready to enjoy himself. The setting was so lovely that he thought that every ball should be held out-of-doors. The whole place looked magical, with lanterns glowing from the tree branches and all of the guests' finery glittering in the soft light.
He was so pleased to see that Grace seemed much more at ease than she had at the first assembly ball. Though he had only seen her outside, it had been clear that she was terribly nervous over attending her first ball. But now, she was happy and laughing with the other young women – and with him.
The dancing had already begun, and when the first fairly simple dance was called, he led her out to the clear grassy space. He remembered to miss a turn or two, and to stumble here and there, as might any man who was unaccustomed to dancing. Grace even helped him to find the right way and turn in the proper direction.
Soon, Thomas felt that there could no longer be any question that he was not Earl Worthington. He had been accepted as just a bloke who happened to bear a resemblance. Now, he felt free to enjoy the rest of the evening with Grace, and with a few of the other young women who seemed to be her friends.
Thomas found it great fun to hide behind the highwayman's mask. He hadn’t failed to notice that all of the women here tonight looked so very pretty with their feathered and glittering masks.
Yet he found that, again, he noticed none of them more than Grace. She had created the delicate representation of a flower – a pretty yellow primrose among the birds – by wearing a light, yellow veil over her green dress, instead of putting on a mask as all the others had done.
After dancing three dances together – which Thomas knew was too many, but told himself that Adam did not know it and so might be excused – he and Grace walked back to the refreshment table. "I must say, Adam," she said, only a little shyly, "that I am very glad I’m not the only one here wearing a veil instead of a mask tonight."
He grinned behind the black silk. "You’re quite right, Miss Miller. I actually feel quite relieved to know that neither one of us resembles a bird."
"I suppose we will be outlaws together, then," she said, looking right up at him and smiling through the veil, and both of them laughed.
Then Thomas leaned down to whisper to her, just beneath the brass flower pin that held the veil to her hair. "It’s so crowded here, and so warm, even though we are out of doors. Come with me to the river for a quiet moment. We will return soon. I promise you."
She nodded, and looked up at him again, and as the torchlight illuminated her veil, he could see that her dark eyes were huge. Thomas said nothing, but only smiled at her and took her hand, leading her around the edges of the gathering, until they could slip away and go across the road that ran beside the river.
* * *
Together, Grace and Thomas disappeared into the night, lost in the magic of the torchlight and the music and the dancing. They stayed just near enough to hear the orchestra playing and Grace was quite startled when Thomas took her in his arms and began leading her through a dance just for the two of them.
"It's called the waltz," he whispered to her, as he whirled her around over the grass. "Quite new."
"And quite wonderful," she said, breathless from the wonderful things that kept happening this evening.
When the music finally stopped, and Thomas and Grace stood face to face on the banks of the shining river. "I must ask you," she said. "You dance wonderfully well for a – for a working man. Where did you learn?"
He hesitated for just a moment, and then grinned. "Why, I learned to dance the same way you learned, of course. I learned by watching others dance, and by asking anyone who might be willing to show me, and by getting a little practice from time to time."
Thomas leaned down, very close to her. "The same way we learn anything at all." Once again, he kissed her, and this time Grace put her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
She forgot all about secrets, promises, and plans to marry a wealthy man, for those things had been carefully woven in the cool light of day. Out here, in the beautiful night, there was nothing, but the two of them, and the passion that carried them like the current of the river in the moonlight.
* * *
The world had indeed become far more pleasant and warm, Elam thought, as he took a few stumbling steps out of the pub. He was not entirely sure just how long he'd been in there, but after two good pints of ale, he was feeling considerably better.
The small glass of gin he'd finished with had improved his outlook even more.
He was still just as angry. But at least, the ale and the gin had smoothed it down, and Elam felt he could at least drive his charges home without any care for what they might say or do.
The ball was finally ending. The music had stopped and the lanterns and candles were being put out. Only the torches along the street remained lit. Most of the people were gathered on the cobblestones, still talking merrily, while waiting for their vehicles to pull up.
Then, Elam spotted Grace, coming out of the marketplace grounds.
Instantly his anger, his sense of injustice, came surging back. She was practically dancing her way down the street with two other silly young things, looking forward, no doubt, to living off of whichever man she was about to manipulate into marrying her.
Instead of walking to the landau, which stood near the entrance to the marketplace with Reuben at the horses' heads, Elam reached Grace, just as she reached the center of the street.
"Well, now. Fine evening, isn't it, Miss Miller?" He was quite pleased at the l
ook of horror on her face when she immediately recognized him. "I see you know me. Fine times we all had at Northcliff, didn't we? Tell me, girl: How is your father these days?"
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t say anything at all. Her two friends didn’t notice him, and simply went on across the street, chattering something about stopping at the Robbins Inn.
"Is he really dead? Or is that just a lie your family tells to hide the fact that he’s a drunkard, who lost his position at Northcliff through no one's fault but his own? And who caused me to lose mine in the bargain!"
The girl had finally taken that idiotic cloth off of her head and he could see her face quite plainly. Her eyes were huge and glittering, like a frightened calf, and she kept looking all around although she seemed unable to take a step. "Please," she whispered at last. "Please don't."
"Don't what?" he roared. "Don't lie to everyone in this entire town, as you do? As your whole family does?"
Elam took a few steps closer to her. "Do the men you dance with know that you are no 'tradesman's daughter,' but in truth, a lowly maid-of-all-work, whose father was a failed coachman and whose mother peeled potatoes in the back of a kitchen?"
Curious onlookers were beginning to gather, but Elam did not care. "And do they know that none of you could not get a letter of reference from your former positions, because your husband and father was such a disgrace to his employer!"
He turned and let his eyes flick over the crowd, quite pleased to see that they all had the same look of shock and disbelief on their faces that Grace Miller had. "All of you men who think to marry this girl – you had best be informed that she is not what she says she is! Grace Miller is false. A fake. An imposter! She and her entire family – her father, her mother, her aunt, her uncle, and even her brothers are all after nothing but – "
A huge blow struck Elam on the side of his jaw. Images of sparks exploded behind his eyes as he staggered and fell to the ground.
* * *
Thomas stood over the man who lay on the cobblestones. His fists were clenched and his breath came hard and fast with rage. "Get up, you ape-drunk fool," he snarled. "Get up and tell me why you insult this young woman in the public streets in such a terrible way."
Slowly, the man dragged himself up to his feet. He was the Clarke's usual coachman, Thomas knew, but he could not imagine what he had against Grace Miller. "You will apologize to Miss Miller. To her family. To everyone here, whose fine evening you have disturbed so greatly – "
With a line of blood running down his jaw from his mouth, the man stood swaying and grinning at Thomas. "You heard me," he muttered. "She's not what she says. She's an imposter. I knew her father – knew all of them – at Northcliffe. She's lying. She's an imposter. She only wants a rich man to marry. The only way she could ever get one is to lie about who and what she is!"
He leered at Thomas, nodding towards him. "Take that idiotic kerchief off your face and show us all who you really are. Or maybe you're an imposter, too. Which explains why you'd defend another one!"
Thomas was not about to take the black silk off of his face. "I want you gone. I know you work for Simon Clarke. I want you gone. I don't want to ever see you near this town again."
The man's eyes widened. "I won't lose another position! I won't lose another one because of her! Because of her family!" Then, with a sudden vicious charge, he took a swing at Thomas and managed to connect with his jaw.
This man was somewhat older than Thomas, and not so tall, but he was thick with muscle and fearless from drink. That one fortuitous punch was all it took to send outrage surging through Thomas's chest and arms and legs and make him jump, roaring into the fight.
Chapter Twenty-Four
With Plans In Ruins, All Is Reconsidered
Grace stood petrified in the middle of the street. This man, this Elam Tanner, was indeed someone she knew from Northcliffe. He'd been a coachman there. But why was he so angry with her that he would shout insults to her in the streets?
She didn’t know what to do. She was aware that he had everyone's attention and they were all just as baffled as she was as to why he was so angry, why he would behave this way at the close of such a beautiful evening. She was too frightened to move, but too confused to do anything else.
Suddenly, Adam Wheeler came running in and threw his fist right into Tanner's face, knocking him flat to the ground. Adam had already thrown off his long coat and tri-corner hat, and now he stood over Tanner in his boots and black trousers and white shirt with his fists clenched. His light brown hair fell down across his brow and the black silk handkerchief remained tied over his face.
Grace could only watch as Tanner slowly got to his feet. The two men snarled at each other in low voices, but she couldn’t hear what they said. Then Tanner shouted and made a sudden charge at Adam – and the battle was on.
Both men were clearly enraged at each other, but no one could tell why that should be. All Grace knew was that the two of them were throwing punch after punch, shouting and bellowing like bulls, and that Adam – being taller, younger, and of a sober mind – was getting the better of the other man.
She watched in cold fascination as Adam swung one brutal blow after another with his bare fists. Finally, Tanner crashed down to the cobblestones, but Adam continued punching him, and in a moment, a few red trickles of blood began to run across the stones.
"Stop," Grace whispered, and then found she was able to move again. "Stop!"
She ran up beside Adam, crying out to him. "Stop! Please! You'll kill him. It's all true! It's true! What he said – it's all true. Just please stop!"
For a heartbeat, she was afraid Adam would not stop and would simply murder this man right here on the street, right here in front of everyone. To her great relief, he stopped. His fists were still tightly clenched, but he stepped back a pace, breathing hard, and turned to glance at Grace.
"Please don't hurt him any more," she whispered. "I – I do know him. He worked at Northcliffe. With my father, for a time. It's all true."
As he stared at her, Adam's eyes turned cold and disbelieving. Then he turned back to Tanner and said, "Your master will give you twenty pounds. You are to go from here immediately and never come back. Never come back. Or you will find me waiting before you take one single step in this county."
Grace turned away and hid her face in her hands, unable to bear the sight of any of this for a moment longer.
Then two pairs of sympathetic hands took her by the shoulders and led her away from scene. "Come with us, Grace," said Uncle Leonard. "Inside the shop. You'll be safe there."
"We'll get all of this sorted out tomorrow, if indeed there is anything to sort out at all." Aunt Betsey's voice was very firm and decided, and in a moment, Grace was out of the street and standing on the wooden walkway in front of Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries.
Just before going inside, she grabbed hold of the door and insisted on looking back one more time to see what had happened. Grace saw Adam approach the earl's landau and order the footman to go and see to Elam Tanner, who was very slowly attempting to sit up in the middle of the street.
Along with Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, Merope and Sally got into the landau. The instant they were seated, Adam climbed up to the box, forced the pair into a tight turn, and sent them trotting down the street with a huge clatter. Then, they were gone, leaving Birdwell at the fastest possible pace.
* * *
Late the next morning, in a soft and gentle misting rain, Thomas and Simon walked out from the house at Feathering Park, intending to go and check on Simon's five broodmares.
"I'm quite looking forward to the foals," Simon said. "I would like very much for Feathering Park, sometime later on, to be a place where all sorts of horses are raised. These five, right here, are giving me my start."
They walked to the stone wall that enclosed the broodmare pasture and stood looking over it. "No foals yet," remarked Thomas. "I see two draught mares, two Welsh pony mares, and – that must be the
newest one, your Thoroughbred. Nice and tall and long-legged, she is."
"Indeed. I hope to get a good racehorse from her, this year and every year after. I would love to take part in the best races. Maybe someday – "
"Maybe someday, you will. Allow me to ask: What does your wife think of the idea?"
Simon laughed. "She doesn't like horses much, except when it comes to having a showy pair in front of her carriage. So, I do enjoy my time with these mares out here and am on pins and needles to see the new foals."
Thomas smiled. "They are a respite for you, no doubt." Then his face became serious. "I know the questions that must be on your mind. But I still have no answer for what happened last night. For why on earth that coachman of yours would suddenly start shouting insults at a young woman who had done nothing to him – who had done nothing to anyone."
