A Reason to Rebel (19 page)

Which was why they did not set out for Ramsgate until after luncheon. As he drove, Alex cast frequent sideways glances at his companion and would have given much to know what occupied her thoughts. Did she regret what had passed between them? Did she now hold him to blame for seducing her? It was important that he should know. But how to phrase the question?

She turned her face towards the wind, allowing the fresh, invigorating air to cool her flaming cheeks. Not once since leaving the inn had she looked directly at him.

“Are you feeling yourself, Estelle?” He took one hand off the ribbons and covered both of hers with it, seeking to reassure.

“Yes, thank you. I am perfectly all right. Why ever would I not be?”

“No reason. It is just that you seem preoccupied.”

“What shall we do when we reach Ramsgate?” she asked, clearly anxious to change the subject.

“I shall leave the phaeton at one of the inns. After we have refreshed ourselves we shall then go in search of Porter’s place of employment.”

“And talk to him there, in front of his employers?”

“No, I think not.” Alex paused as he guided his team round a large pothole filled with muddy rainwater. “If he was reluctant to reveal any information to you in a letter, he is hardly likely to do so in person. And if anything he said showed him in a bad light, it would leave his employers with no alternative but to dismiss him.”

“Yes, possibly.” Estelle fell into deep contemplation. “Perhaps he was being cautious because he felt that anything he said in a letter could fall into my father’s hands. If he sees that you and I are alone, then surely he will confide in me?”

“It is possible, but I suggest we wait for Porter to leave his place of business and then follow him to his home. If we tackle him there, we will have a better chance of convincing him that we are not acting as your father’s agents. And by not embarrassing him in front of his employers, he will be more likely to trust us.”

“Yes, I can see the sense in what you say, but I am frustrated by the need to delay by as much as one hour.”

“Have patience, sweetheart. It will not be long now.” He turned his team into the mews adjoining one of the better hotels. Trusting to luck that no one of his acquaintance would be within at such an hour, he surrendered the conveyance to the care of the ostler. “Come, we shall take some refreshment before we seek directions to Nesbit and Jones’s establishment.”

Alex watched the arresting young lady seated across from him in the best parlour of the inn, her back ramrod straight as she sipped her tea, and tried to fathom her thoughts. His attraction towards her prevented him from making much of a fist of it and in the end he gave up trying. They were alone in the parlour and, without dwelling upon the wisdom of his actions, he asked her the question to which an honest answer was becoming essential for his peace of mind.

“Estelle, about last night…”

“Yes.” She looked up but avoided meeting his eye. “What about it?”

“Do you consider that I took advantage of your fear of the storm to…well, to…?” Alex’s words trailed off and he raked his hand through his hair as he tried to think how better to phrase his question. His first attempt sounded completely wrong. Never in his life before had he felt so tongue-tied. “What I mean is—”

“What you mean to say,” she responded with a smile that melted his heart, “is that I ought not to make anything of it.”

“No, no, I—”

“Think no more about it.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I was equally to blame. You gave me ample opportunity to demur. I realize now it was a mistake but that is of no consequence since it will not happen again. We were merely forced together by circumstances and did what came naturally at the time, finding comfort in one another.” She sat straighter still, something he would have considered impossible, and bestowed an arch smile upon him, even though she still did not meet his gaze.

“No, no, you completely misunderstand me. Damn!” he said under his breath when a brisk knock heralded the return of the landlord with the information he had requested.

“Excellent!” said Estelle when the man gave them directions to Nesbit and Jones’s premises. She stood and looked expectantly at Alex. “Come, we have dallied for quite long enough. Besides, I believe we understand one another quite well and there is nothing more to be said in respect of our previous conversation.”

Alex, who ought to have been relieved that Estelle was adopting such a reasonable approach, was perversely annoyed by her attitude. He considered there was a great deal more to be said, but the presence of the landlord prevented him from voicing that opinion. He settled their account, donned his hat and gloves and escorted Estelle from the establishment.

Following the landlord’s directions, they easily located the premises which housed the solicitors’ office. From a convenient position across the road they were able to watch the door without being observed. Within fifteen-minutes a respectable couple emerged, being bowed away by an older man with extreme obsequiousness.

“That is most likely Porter’s employer and those must be his last clients of the day,” said Alex. “And pretty important ones too, judging by his demeanour.”

The man they took to be the solicitor soon re-emerged from the premises, fitted his hat onto his head and directed his steps towards the tavern on the corner. Two more people came out a little later, neither of whom was Porter. It was another five minutes before that person eventually showed himself.

“There he is!” Estelle cried.

“All right. We shall fall in behind him and see where he leads us.” Alex took Estelle’s arm in case impatience got the better of her and she spontaneously approached Porter. “Let us hope that he is not bound for the tavern too.”

Fortunately he was not, and ten minutes later he approached a neat house in a respectable road and produced a key from his pocket. But before he could insert it in the lock, the door was flung open. A young lady threw herself at Porter in a flurry of petticoats, squealing with joy as she welcomed him home. He caught her in his arms and kissed her mouth. Then, looking quickly up and down the road, he persuaded her to return indoors.

Estelle took a sharp intake of breath and a beatific smile invaded her face.

“That is Marianne!” she said, and burst into tears of relief.

Chapter Twelve

“Come.” Estelle dried her eyes. Endless possibilities regarding her sister’s situation tumbled through her brain. Anxious for answers, she gathered up her skirts and moved away from the stoop where they had concealed themselves. “We must go to Marianne at once.”

“Wait just one moment.” Alex placed a restraining hand on her arm.

“Why?”

“Whose house do you suppose that is?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Probably none. Humour me for a moment.”

Sighing with impatience, Estelle cast her eyes over the neat terraced house in question. It was arranged on three floors, with steps from the front garden leading to the basement, presumably housing the kitchens and servants’ quarters. The house itself looked to be in an excellent state of repair. The windows were sparkling clean, and recently scrubbed steps led to a front door painted bright red. It sported a gleaming knocker in the shape of an anchor. The small front garden, a riot of colour, was as meticulously cared for as the rest of the premises. Her eyes roamed over the adjoining properties. They were similarly well-kept residences, typically occupied by the middle-classes, exuding an air of prim gentility. Her chief emotion was one of relief that Marianne had not been compelled to live in squalor.

“It seems to be a respectable area,” she said when it became obvious that Alex was waiting for her to say something.

“Indeed, but does anything else strike you about the district?”

“Well, yes, now that you mention it.” She frowned, taking a moment to formulate her thoughts. “They do not appear to be the type of places that would offer lodgings to a young man of limited means.”

“Precisely. And so we must ask ourselves how someone in Porter’s position, who presumably does not have independent funds, could afford to live in such an establishment, much less maintain your sister in similar style.”

“Does it matter?” Estelle had had enough of this procrastination. “I wish to see my sister, Alex, not stand here debating the quality of her living arrangements.”

“Naturally.” He raised a brow at her incivility but did not remark upon it. “It was not my intention to frustrate you with idle speculations.”

“Well then, let us get to it.”

“Quite so. But before we do I was about to suggest that if Porter’s parents could afford to article him to a solicitor, then they are very likely respectable people. The sort of respectable people who might inhabit just such a property, perhaps?”

“And if you are correct about that, then Marianne is living there suitably chaperoned.” A slow smile of understanding spread across her features. As always his intuitiveness had taken her by surprise. She had been trying to convince herself she was not shocked at Marianne’s living with Mr. Porter before they were married, always assuming of course that they had not eloped to Gretna Green. But Estelle did not consider that to be likely. And so she’d told herself that as long as her sister was happy it really was of no consequence what unconventional living arrangements she had made. Indeed, after her own activities of the previous night, Estelle was hardly in a position to sit in judgment upon anyone else. But the relief she now felt at the prospect of having got that wrong made her realize just how fearful she had been for her headstrong sister’s reputation.

She turned towards Alex with a smile. “Thank you. That is a great comfort to me.”

Her feelings towards Alex had been oscillating wildly since the previous night. At first she thought she was sufficiently mature to accept what had happened between them. But when he had gone to such pains to tell her not to read anything into it, she had not only been deeply disappointed but angry and upset too. She wanted to lash out and hurt him as much as he had hurt her. But by anticipating her concerns about Marianne—when she herself did not even know they existed—he had thrown her into confusion once again, and she no longer knew what to think.

Only one thing was apparent. By his actions he had proved he was not all bad. She decided to let him know he was forgiven for his previous transgressions by treating him to her most gracious smile.

“God’s beard, Estelle!” Alex ground his teeth. “If you look at me like that again I swear I will not be responsible for my actions.” He took her hand, turned it over and applied his lips to the bare skin on the inside of her wrist, just above the cuff of her glove. “Come, let us go and make ourselves known to your sister before I forget myself completely.”

Still with her hand trapped in his, they crossed the street and Alex lifted the heavy brass knocker at number seventeen. Estelle watched it fall, heard the sound reverberating inside the house and wriggled with impatience. Her heart beat wildly as they waited for what seemed like an age before the door was opened by a uniformed maid.

“We are here to see your master,” said Alex authoritatively.

“Who shall I say is calling, sir?” The girl stepped back and allowed them into the vestibule, looking a little awed by Alex’s aristocratic bearing.

“I am Crawley.”

“If you would just—”

“Molly, who is it?”

Estelle, standing behind Alex, let out a gasp of delight. She stepped round him in time to observe Marianne tripping lightly down the stairs, a covered bowl in one hand.

“Marianne!”

“Estelle?” The bowl clattered to the floor. It bounced the rest of the way down the stairs, smashing on the floor of the hall, its contents spilling over the toes of Alex’s polished boots. “Estelle, is that you?” Marianne opened her eyes very wide, as though she did not quite believe what she was seeing. “Can it be possible that my prayers have been answered or am I simply dreaming again?”

“Yes, Marianne, it is me. I am come, my love.”

Marianne hurtled down the remaining stairs, her face shining with happiness. Seemingly unaware of the crockery crunching beneath her feet, she flew into her sister’s arms. Estelle hugged her close and when they eventually drew apart both of them had faces wet with tears.

“Oh, Estelle, how I have longed to see you. I knew how worried you would be about me. I wanted to write but Benjamin said—”

“Hush love, I am here now, that is all that matters.”