The Fugitive Heiress (26 page)

She cast a doubtful glance at the old lady. “Are you so set upon this game, sir? Miss Lucy must be longing for her bed.”

“Nonsense. We’ll play rapidly and she won’t mind a bit. Will you, ma’am?” The appeal, accompanied as it was by his most charming smile, achieved its purpose. Miss Lucy drew out her knitting again, observing as she did so that they might as well get on with their silly game, since she wanted to knot her fringe and could do so as well tonight as tomorrow.

Accordingly, the stones were once again set out in the starting pattern, but the new game soon promised, despite the earl’s assurances, to be a long one. By midnight, they were well into the middle game when John came in and began replacing burnt candles with new ones. Diverted by his entrance, Dambroke glanced up and told him he might take himself off to bed when he finished. Both players forgot Miss Lucy who, though her fringe was but half done, had dozed off in her chair. John headed for the door, his tray full of candle bits. Dambroke threw the dice.

“The devil!” he exclaimed. “Now, how in blazes do I make use of that!” His attention was fully engaged, so he did not notice John’s sudden start when he opened the door into the East Hall. Catheryn did, however, and likewise heard the gruff voice speaking from beyond.

“His lordship there, is ’e?”

“Aye,” John answered in surprise. He looked back over his shoulder. “It’s Mr. Straley, my lord.”

“Straley!” Dambroke muttered, counting his move. “What’s he want at this hour? Poachers?” He looked up to see his footman still poised at the door and looking very uncomfortable. “Why does instinct warn me that it’s nothing so simple as mere poachers? Send him in, John.”

John motioned to the keeper with a nod and stood aside. The reason for his discomfort as well as his subsequent hasty exit became perfectly clear when Straley entered, a shotgun under one arm and a wriggling, red-faced Teddy under the other. The elderly man set the boy on his feet, retaining a grip on his arm, and made his bow. Miss Lucy came wide awake.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, my lord, but I had no choice,” Straley growled. “I’ve sent my Jack to the Running Bull with t’other, but this’un I’m delivering myself.” He seemed to realize the boy wasn’t going anywhere and released him. Teddy looked as though he’d sell his soul to be elsewhere, but he stood his ground. He even braved a glance at his brother but blanched at the expression he encountered and lowered his eyes quickly to the floor.

Since they had long since thought him asleep, it took a moment to recover, but Dambroke was not long in demanding an explanation. Straley answered, his anger still patently obvious. He and his elder son, making their usual rounds, had discovered Teddy and Nat Tripler playing at smugglers in the Home Wood. In order to add a touch of realism, they had appropriated one of Dambroke’s shotguns and were pretending to find revenue men behind every bush. Straley and Jack had spent the best part of the afternoon and early evening laying rabbit snares, hoping to decimate the inordinate number of rabbits presently abiding in the Park. The boys had sprung nearly every trap.

At this point, Dambroke interrupted, his steely gaze upon the culprit, his tone withering. “I trust there was an excellent reason for destroying the snares.” A terrible silence followed his statement. Miserably, Teddy shifted his feet “Well, Edward?”

The boy swallowed audibly. “I … I’m sorry,” he muttered. Dambroke looked ready to explode, but Catheryn gathering her courage, laid her hand upon his arm and spoke calmly.

“Teddy, dear, please explain why you released poor Mr. Straley’s traps after he and Jack worked so hard to lay them.” She caught his gaze and held it, giving him time to compose himself, knowing he was on the verge of tears. He swallowed again and, by avoiding Dambroke’s eye, contrived to answer her.

“We … we didn’t think. W-we only made up the game. The snares was … were revenuers, and if we stepped in one we were caught. But if we could slip it first, then the revenuer was disarmed and captured. We just didn’t think about the work of it, or we wouldn’t have. I promise, Cathy!”

“And the gun?” Dambroke’s drawl was deceptively calm, making his words all the more ominous. Another, heavier silence fell. Miss Lucy began working her fringe again with fierce concentration. Catheryn, remembering what Tiffany had said about Dambroke and his guns, felt perfectly helpless. Even Straley began to regard the boy with something akin to sympathy.

S
TRALEY WAS DISMISSED AND
when he had gone, taking the shotgun with him, Teddy looked smaller, more defenseless. He shifted his feet again. Dambroke spoke, his voice holding that chilling note that Catheryn had heard only once before. “You know the rule about the guns, do you not, Edward?”

“Yes, sir,” Teddy muttered.

“Well, then?”

“It wasn’t loaded.”

“Are you quite certain of that?”

“Course I am. I’d remember loading it, wouldn’t I?”

Dambroke stood up. “Don’t be impertinent, young man. Did you examine the gun before you took it out?”

Teddy saw the chasm yawning before him and caught his breath. “No, sir.” The reply was barely audible.

“So you don’t know that it wasn’t left loaded in the gun room, do you?” The boy shook his head, wisely refraining from pointing out that there were strict rules about that, too. Dambroke went on in the same icy tone, “I think we will resume this discussion in the schoolroom. Will you excuse us, ladies?”

Miss Lucy nodded without comment, but no one noticed, because Catheryn jumped to her feet and grasped the earl’s forearm. “Please, sir! It’s so late. Won’t you deal better with this in the morning after you’ve both had a night’s sleep?”

He turned toward her, anger plain on his face, but when his gaze met hers his expression softened. He glanced at the wretched boy and Catheryn held her breath. “You may be right, Cousin,” he agreed. “After breakfast then, young man. In my study. I suggest you think carefully about what you have done.”

Hope gleamed in Teddy’s eyes as he turned away and Catheryn knew he expected another miracle. The great door was just swinging shut when the earl said, “It’s only a reprieve, Catheryn. It may even do some good to let him stew, but the boy must be beaten, and he knows it.” Having noted a hesitation in the movement of the door, she watched now as it closed softly. If Teddy had not known before, she mused, he knew now. She was not surprised a moment later to see the alcove door behind the earl open a hair’s breadth. Clearly, Teddy expected her to speak for him, to convince Dambroke to be lenient.

She gave it her best effort, pleading his youth, his injuries, and his lack of criminal intent. The earl listened with more patience than she might have expected, but her last point proved one too many. He scorned it outright, adjuring in stentorian accents that the taking of the gun had nothing whatever to do with Teddy’s youth or his injuries but damned well spoke volumes for criminal intent, it having been understood since he was in short coats that he was not to touch Dambroke’s guns without both permission and adult supervision. When he capped his argument by stating that he had postponed matters till morning only that they might finish their game, Catheryn sighed and the alcove door shut quietly.

She did not give up as the game dragged on, but Dambroke firmly resisted every plea and finally, quite unfairly, prohibited further discussion of the subject. Unwilling to risk their own fragile relationship for a lost cause, she held her peace until he defeated her at last on the board as well. Then, bidding Miss Lucy a warm and grateful good night and his lordship a rather cooler one, she made her way upstairs to her own bedchamber, intending to retire immediately. But thoughts of a lonely, possibly frightened boy intruded. It would take only a moment to run up and see that he was asleep and not fretting about the upcoming confrontation with Dambroke.

Dismissing a sleepy Mary to her bed, she hurried up to the schoolroom. Everything was dark, and the very darkness nearly convinced her that he must be asleep. Even while she hesitated, the heavy silence made itself felt, and she stepped quickly to the night nursery, pushed wide the door, and caught her breath in dismay at the sight of the empty bed. Too late, she recalled the reason Teddy had once run away from school.

A myriad of thoughts chased through her head as she ran back to her own room to change to her riding habit. Meddling again, my girl, and just when things were beginning to look up! But if she could bring Teddy back before he was found to be missing, perhaps the earl would not discover the meddling this time. She hoped she could find Nat Tripler, for surely he would know where to look for Teddy. Fifteen minutes later, she was throwing a saddle over Psyche’s back and praying she would not wake Bert or any of the grooms. Within twenty, she was on her way to the Running Bull.

Nat was not difficult to find, for he was standing smack in the middle of the innyard, and his eyes rounded in disbelief when she rode up and swung from the saddle. A year or two older than Teddy and half a head taller, he was well-muscled with untidy orange curls and freckles so thick they seemed to blend together. She quickly confirmed his identity, introduced herself, and demanded to know Teddy’s whereabouts. Nat seemed oddly relieved once he knew who she was and began to tell an amazing tale.

Teddy had come to him some time before with the suggestion that he might like to go smuggling for real, insisting that they wouldn’t be running from punishment but merely seeking their fortunes in the way of knights and crusaders and such. It was clear that Nat hadn’t much needed to rationalize his enthusiasm. His father was away for the night but, like Teddy, he anticipated a painful morning interview. Evidently, they had been discussing and arguing details of the plan when they were interrupted by the sound of a carriage approaching rapidly from the south. Nat explained that, though the Running Bull was not a posting house, his father occasionally provided a change of horses to persons hoping to get a lower rate by changing before Stevenage. Sure enough, despite the late hour, the carriage had pulled into the yard and someone shouted for the change. Then another voice had sounded, calling the first a fool for stopping. It had sounded like blowing into a full-scale argument, and Teddy had suddenly pricked up his ears, thinking he recognized one of the voices.

“Who was it?” Catheryn asked sharply.

“Fella name o’ Lawrence, I reckon,” replied Nat. “Ted said as ’os ’e warn’t sure, so ’e went round an’ listened whilst I unhitched the team. Met me back inside an’ said as ’ow yon gennemun was abductin’ some ’un—a lady bundled on the floor. They was in an awful ’urry—I give ’im that—but when ’e says it be ’is sister … well, I arsk ye, mum, daft, ain’t ’e?”

Catheryn felt faint. “Good God!” she exclaimed. “Of course, it’s Tiffany. The way he looked at the ball, his persistence—and I practically flaunted the captain at him! What a ninny I’ve been!” Nat’s amazement sobered her. “What happened next?”

“Ted clumb in the boot, mum.”

“He what!”

Repeating the information, he added that there had been no one nearby to help them and they had been afraid to confront the two men for fear they would have pistols. Teddy thought that if he could rescue Tiffany it might mitigate the earl’s wrath, and he had made Nat swear not to tell Dambroke. Catheryn gathered that Nat had been torn between loyalty to his friend and fear of repercussions to himself should anything go wrong.

“Look here, Nat,” she said when he had finished, “you won’t thank me for this, but you must run for his lordship. We are going to need him.” Nat’s expression clearly indicated his aversion to the errand, and Catheryn sympathized but insisted. “Tell him the whole, just as you’ve told me. I daresay you can leave out the bit about going smuggling, but tell him the rest. Be as quick as you can, because I’m going after them. If they turn off, I’ll leave a signal, so tell his lordship to look out for it.” Quickly she led Psyche to the mounting block and was soon turning her onto the high road.

Passing through Stevenage some time later, she felt suddenly alone and vulnerable, even grateful for the late hour and cover of darkness. Just the other side of town, however, she spied the carriage rumbling ahead. A cloud drifted across the new moon, and she had to strain to see her quarry, but she hesitated to shorten the distance, lest she be seen. Patting Psyche’s neck, she shivered in the chilly night air. Lord, what a dust-up there would be over this! It would be a miracle, she thought, if Dambroke didn’t have an apoplectic fit before the night was done. He would be furious with Tiffany for being abducted, furious with Teddy for running away, and furious with herself for meddling instead of informing him of Teddy’s departure. Heaven help them all!

The cloud passed and the carriage seemed suddenly closer. It was slowing. Suddenly it swung off to the right and disappeared, but she found the turning easily, a narrowish though not untraveled road. Quickly pulling off her yellow neckscarf, she tied it to the lower branch of a nearby tree, where moonlight turned it white as it fluttered in the breeze. Dambroke couldn’t miss it. A little chill went up her spine as the thought crossed her mind that Nat might have been too frightened to go for him, and she wondered what she would do if the earl did not come. Then she gave herself a shake. How stupid. Surely Lawrence would not persist when he realized his plot had failed. Her own presence would provide all the propriety the occasion warranted, if such an occasion could ever meet standards of propriety. And Teddy would be there as well. The whole affair would take on more the flavor of a family outing than an abduction. She chuckled, imagining how Lawrence would look when she and Teddy appeared on the scene.

She heard Lawrence shouting up ahead. The trees, which had been growing up close to the road, suddenly fell away to her left, forming a large clearing. The carriage had stopped in a yard before a ramshackle house, and Lawrence shouted again. They were too far ahead to see her, but to be on the safe side, she rode back the way she had come for about twenty yards, dismounted, and tethered the mare. Since she could not leave Dambroke a written message, Psyche would have to do. When she returned to the clearing, there were lights in the windows of the house, which she saw now was a sort of hedge tavern. Suddenly, as she approached, she heard a muffled oath from the far side of the carriage and then a scuffle. Next came Teddy’s voice, first in pain and then shouting to be put down and left alone. When she could see them, Catheryn stood very still, hoping that if Teddy’s burly captor turned she would be invisible against the trees. She watched him carry the struggling boy into the house and then circled quickly to approach from the side and thus lessen the chances of being seen. A few minutes later she crept slowly up to a front window and peeped inside.