Alissa Baxter (30 page)

Alexandra shook her head. “Of course not,” she murmured. She cleared her throat and continued in a brisker tone, “Let us make haste, now, Hobbes. I wish to leave shortly.”

Fifteen minutes later, after Alexandra had told Leighton that he was to inform her grandmother that she had gone out on a brief shopping expedition, Alexandra and Hobbes left Beauchamp House together, and walked the short distance to Grosvenor Square, where Lady Barrington’s imposing town house was situated. Alexandra knocked firmly on the door, and a few moments later it was opened by a lofty being who, Alexandra thought, looked even more imposing than the house. “My name is Miss Grantham and I wish to see Lady Barrington,” she stated calmly.

The lofty being raised his brows and said superciliously, “Her ladyship is not receiving visitors this morning, ma’am.”

“But — it is particularly important that I see Lady Barrington,” Alexandra said. “Please tell her that I have called.”

“I am afraid, ma’am, that that will be quite impossible.”

Alexandra looked at the butler in frustration, and was about to speak again, when a voice coming from behind him spoke. “I will see Miss Grantham, Fairchild. Please show her into the drawing-room.”

Alexandra looked behind Fairchild and saw Lady Barrington walking down a sweeping staircase towards them. The Marchioness nodded at Alexandra. “I will be with you directly, Miss Grantham.”

Alexandra followed Fairchild up the stairs, leaving her disapproving maid behind, sitting on a hard upright chair in the hall. Fairchild bowed stiffly to her as he showed her into the drawing room, then closed the door behind her. Alexandra wandered over to a large gilded mirror on the wall opposite the fireplace, and frowned at her reflection. She knew that it was imperative that she present an image of cool confidence in her upcoming interview with Lady Barrington. She arranged a wayward curl, and determinedly straightened her shoulders before turning away from the mirror and looking around her. A large sofa dominated the room. Artfully arranged around it were a set of gilded chairs covered with straw-coloured satin, a shade which exactly matched the wallpaper and curtains of the room. Alexandra was thinking how decidedly uncomfortable the chairs looked, when the door opened and Lady Barrington came in.

“Please be seated, Miss Grantham,” she said.

Alexandra sat down on one of the gilded chairs, and discovered that it felt as uncomfortable as it looked. Lady Barrington took a seat opposite her on the sofa, and said in her cool tones, “I do not suppose this to be a social visit, Miss Grantham. How may I help you?”

Alexandra looked across at the older woman, and wondered how to begin. It was one thing to think of confronting the Marchioness with suspected crimes when she had been in the privacy of her bedchamber, but quite another matter to bring the subject up in Lady Barrington’s own drawing-room. Alexandra took a deep breath, and began, “I have reason to believe, Lady Barrington, that you wish me harm.”

Lady Barrington raised her brows. “Harm, Miss Grantham? I do not understand your meaning.”

Alexandra cleared her throat. “You have made it quite plain, Lady Barrington, since our first meeting, that you hold me in dislike. And your dislike seems also to extend to my brother. I cannot understand, however, why you are threatening us.”

Alexandra regarded the other woman closely as she spoke, but, by not even a flutter of her eyelashes did Lady Barrington betray any discomfiture at her words. She merely gave a tinkling laugh, and murmured, “My dear child, what
are
you talking about? I regard you in the light of a slight acquaintance. Nothing more. I have not had the pleasure of making your brother’s acquaintance, and therefore cannot claim to either like him or — for that matter — dislike him. Poor child, your imagination seems to have run away with you.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “Either that, or you have allowed your naturally jealous feelings towards me to cloud your judgement.”

Alexandra felt the colour rising in her cheeks. “You are mistaken, Lady Barrington,” she said stiffly. “I harbour no jealous feelings towards you.”

“Do you not?” Lady Barrington purred. “Men of the world, Miss Grantham, no matter what the romantic novels you have read say, far prefer sophisticated women to virtuous innocents like yourself. And his grace is most definitely a man of the world. Do not delude yourself, my dear.”

Alexandra stood up. “You are mistaken in at least one of the things you have said, ma’am.”

“I think not,” Lady Barrington murmured, rising as well, and ringing the bell for Fairchild.

Alexandra looked haughtily across at the other woman. “I have always preferred reading the Classics to romantic novels. Good day, your ladyship.”

With her head held high, Alexandra followed Fairchild down the stairs to where Hobbes was waiting for her, and she and her maid left the Barrington residence together. Thinking about her interview with Lady Barrington, Alexandra acknowledged that it had not gone as she had hoped it would. Lady Barrington’s barbed comments had found their well-aimed mark, and had quite distracted her from the real purpose of her visit. She felt, however, that speaking to Lady Barrington again would serve no purpose. The Marchioness would in all probability only deny the truth. Something else would have to be done.

The frown creasing Alexandra’s brow lifted as an idea occurred to her. At Lady Sefton’s rout, this evening, she would in all probability be able to seek out Sir Jason Morecombe, and speak with him — very few social hostesses dared to leave the influential baronet off their invitation lists. She was convinced that Sir Jason was Lady Barrington’s accomplice. If she informed him that she was aware that the Marchioness was the author of the letters, he would, perhaps, advise his friend to give up the game she was playing. It was unlikely that she would be successful in her endeavours, Alexandra admitted to herself, but she wanted to at least do something. It was better than sitting idly by, waiting for fickle Fate to lend a hand in her affairs.

When they arrived at Lady Sefton’s rout, that evening, Alexandra looked around her and was relieved when she immediately saw Sir Jason across the room, engaged in conversation with a group of people. Alexandra remained at her grandmother’s side until she saw him leave the group, then slipped away from Lady Beauchamp and made her way across the room to where he was standing. When she approached him, Sir Jason raised his quizzing glass to one eye and said softly, “My, my, what have I done to deserve this honour?”

“Good evening, Sir Jason,” Alexandra said quietly. “It is of the utmost urgency that I speak with you in private.”

“Indeed?” he drawled, continuing to view her through the quizzing glass.

“Yes. I will be obliged to you if you would grant me a few moments of your time.”

Sir Jason lowered the quizzing glass, and said softly, “Who am I to deny the request of a lady? Let us repair to the ante-chamber off this room, Miss Grantham. We can speak there in — ah — private.”

Alexandra nodded her head and, hoping that no one would see them leaving together, followed the baronet into the next room.

Wiping her suddenly damp hands on the skirt of her gown, Alexandra began, “Sir Jason, I have reason to believe that Lady Barrington wishes me and my brother harm. I suspect that you are aware of this?”

Sir Jason regarded Alexandra inscrutably. “I fail to see what Lady Barrington’s animosity towards you — and your brother — has to do with me, Miss Grantham.”

“She — she has not confided in you then? I had supposed you to be her confidant...”

“And you hoped that I would speak to her ladyship on your behalf? My dear child, you cannot know me very well if you think that I would raise even a little finger to help you.”

“I doubt that anyone has ever accused you of excessive gallantry, Sir Jason,” Alexandra said, flushing a little.

The baronet’s lips twisted. “Not as far as I can recall.”

Taking a deep breath, Alexandra continued, “But, how can you approve of Lady Barrington’s devious schemes?”

“All is fair in love and war, Miss Grantham. You should have learnt that little lesson by now.”

“But — but Lady Barrington’s methods are despicable — and wholly unscrupulous. Surely, you cannot approve of her threat to murder my brother, Sir Jason?”

The drooping lids over Sir Jason’s eyes lifted suddenly, and he looked at Alexandra with startling keenness. “Lady Barrington has threatened to murder your brother, Miss Grantham?” Snapping his snuffbox closed, he murmured, “You interest me very much, my dear. Very much, indeed.”

“Are — are you not then aware of her plans?” Alexandra asked, looking uncertainly at the man opposite her.

Sir Jason smiled slightly. “I am rarely unaware of anything, Miss Grantham. But, why have you come to me with your problem? We are not precisely — er — friends.”

“No, sir, we are not. However, I had hoped to prevail upon you to convince Lady Barrington to give up the deep game she is playing. I cannot see what purpose it will serve for us to meet in secret tomorrow evening at Vauxhall Gardens — in a Grecian Temple of all places!”

“Lady Barrington, I am sure, has her reasons, Miss Grantham.”

Alexandra sighed. “Will you not then speak to her on my behalf?”

“No, I will not. I rarely help anyone, and am disinclined to start doing so now.”

Alexandra glared at Sir Jason, thinking that she had never met a more disagreeable man in her life. In a stiff little voice she said, “Then, I have nothing more to say to you, sir. Good evening.”

Sir Jason gave a flourishing bow. “Good evening, Miss Grantham.”

Walking away from him, Alexandra reflected that she had been a fool to have even attempted to speak to Sir Jason. The only thing she could now do, she admitted reluctantly to herself, was to wait until tomorrow evening’s proposed meeting with the Marchioness in Vauxhall Gardens. Hopefully, then, she would be able to reason with a woman she was fast becoming convinced belonged only in Bedlam.

The next day was filled to overflowing with engagements, and Alexandra found very little time to contemplate her course of action for the evening. It was only when she was in her bedchamber in the late afternoon, dressing for the Vauxhall Gardens party, that she had any time to herself. Perhaps it was better this way, Alexandra reflected, as Hobbes helped her to put on her gown. Although she had never been of a nervous disposition, she had an uneasy suspicion that if she had been granted an hour or two’s reflection today, she might very well have worked herself up into a fever of apprehension. As it was, she was worried about how she could contrive to give her grandmother the slip this evening.

When Hobbes finally left her, Alexandra sank down onto her bed, uncomfortably aware of a churning feeling inside her stomach. The thought of her upcoming meeting with Lady Barrington weighed heavily on her mind, and she was becoming more and more doubtful about the wisdom of her decision not to inform anyone about the letters and her appointed rendez-vous this evening. She glanced up with a start when she heard a knock on the door, and when Emily entered the room, Alexandra made a sudden decision.

“Pray be seated, Emily,” she said. “I have something that I would like to tell you.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, sitting down next to her friend.

Alexandra cleared her throat nervously. “Yes, but first, I want you to promise not to say anything about it to anyone.”

“I give you my word that I won’t,” Emily said gravely. “I hope that nothing is amiss? You look rather drawn.”

“I have reason to be,” Alexandra said soberly. “A few days ago I received an anonymous letter from someone who threatened to murder John if I accepted an offer of marriage from the Duke of Stanford.”

Emily paled. “Oh no, Alex!”

“And then yesterday, I received another note from the same person, telling me to meet her at Vauxhall Gardens tonight at the Grecian Temple.”

“It — it is a woman?”

“I believe that Lady Barrington is the writer of the letters. She is the only person that I can think of who could possibly not want me to marry the Duke.”

“But how awful, Alexandra! What shall you do? You cannot go alone to this temple. It will be far too dangerous.”

“I have to, Emily. If I fail to arrive, there is every chance that Lady Barrington could arrange to have John murdered.”

“Oh, Alexandra, don’t say so. No one could be so — so evil.”

“I am beginning to think that Lady Barrington is insane. There is no other explanation for her behaviour.”

“My poor, poor John. I cannot bear the thought of losing him — and you!”

Alexandra drew a deep breath. “I am determined to meet Lady Barrington this evening, and get to the bottom of the matter, Emily. However, I know that I could be placing myself in grave danger and that is why I have decided to tell you my plans. If something happens to me, at least you will know where I am.”

“If something happens to you?” Emily faltered.

“I am taking a pistol with me, so I should be reasonably safe. I will see what Lady Barrington has to say, and then come back to you.”

“Perhaps we should tell Lady Beauchamp about this, Alex,” Emily said tearfully. “I would never forgive myself if you came to harm.”

Alexandra put her hands on Emily’s shoulders, and looked her friend straight in the eye. “You have given me your word that you will say nothing of this to anyone, Emily. You must keep it. Only say something if I fail to return within the hour.”

“Oh, Alex — you are so brave... I — I won’t say anything, but do be careful.”

“I will be,” Alexandra said, a little shakily. Sighing, she continued, “I am sorry to have burdened you with this, Emily, but I know that I can trust you to keep silent.”

“How — how are you going to contrive to slip away on your own?”

Alexandra frowned. “That is the only thing that I am unsure of, as yet.”

Alexandra was still contemplating this problem when their carriage drew up before the waterside at Vauxhall Gardens later that evening. After Lady Beauchamp and Emily had been helped out, Alexandra descended from the carriage, smiling when she saw Letitia, Sir Charles and Amelia, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, awaiting them.