Amanda Scott (20 page)

“Nonsense, is it? I’ll show you nonsense.” The vicar straightened to his full height and took two steps toward the library table before Emily leapt to stop him.

When her hand on his arm had no effect whatsoever upon him, she shouted his name, demanding, “What are you about, sir?” When he looked down at her much as he would look at a pesky fly, she added more calmly, “His lordship is perfectly right. It is nonsense to think that Mr. Tickhill or Mr. Earswick would ravish any woman, let alone Sabrina, whom they both know very well. Indeed, I cannot think how they came to attack her at all, when they must have recognized her at once even if the woods were dark, which they cannot have been at such an hour.”

A small involuntary guilty cry from Sabrina drew their attention. Finding herself the focus of all eyes, she made a halfhearted gesture as though she would wave them all away, but Meriden had had enough.

“Well, madam, your sister makes an excellent point. How is it that such a thing came to pass, if indeed it did?”

“Oh, it did,” she moaned, pressing a hand to her brow. “Truly, it did, and it was dreadful. I thought they would murder me. Indeed, if Mr. Scopwick had not heard my screams and come to my rescue, I do not know—”

“Are you attempting to tell me that Tickhill and Earswick did not recognize you?” Jack demanded.

“Well, not at first,” she said wretchedly. “I was all alone in those awful woods, you see, and all I could think about was poor Emily being attacked as she was the other day, and so I was hurrying, you know—”

“No matter how fast you were walking, they must have seen you quite clearly,” Jack said sternly.

“But they couldn’t see me clearly at all, for I had pulled my shawl up over my head so I wouldn’t have to be looking about me all the time, you know. All I wanted to do was to get to the vicarage to get help, but all of a sudden there I was on the ground with those two rough men on top of me, shouting that they’d caught me. And I was screaming and fighting, and my wretched shawl got all tangled about my face. I think Mr. Scopwick must have grabbed the Runners just as I got my face uncovered, for I am quite certain that the very first thing I saw was the two of them sort of dangling from his fists, looking frightened and dismayed, while he was shaking them like rag dolls. I must have fainted, I suppose, for I don’t remember anything after that. The next thing I knew, Mr. Scopwick was carrying me up the drive toward the Priory.”

“And the maid?” Jack asked. He had an odd look on his face, and Emily, controlling her own amusement with difficulty, decided it would be better if she did not look at him again until she had regained control of her sense of the ridiculous.

Scopwick snorted. “What, do you think I left the fool wench lying on the ground somewhere halfway between Meriden and the Priory? Not but that it would have served her right, tripping herself up like that when her lady depended upon her. I shouted for young Giles, who was already coming to find out what all the row was about, meaning, you know, to send him for help, but then I realized those dam … those dratted Runners were coming to their senses—they had fainted or something just after her ladyship swooned,” he added hastily when Jack looked about to ask a question. “Daresay they won’t remember anything about it.”

The earl’s eyebrows shot upward, and Emily clapped a hand over her mouth, not daring to look now at anyone.

“Mr. Scopwick,” Sabrina said, regarding the vicar with awe, “did you … that is, those Runners, did you … ?”

“Sorry if you think I ought to have sent a couple of servants back to assist your woman instead of turning her over to their tender mercies,” he said, his dignity returning. Emily was certain he was purposely misunderstanding Sabrina. He added firmly, “She will take no hurt from them. I am as certain of that as I am that the sun will rise at dawn tomorrow.”

“I am persuaded,” said Meriden carefully, “that your woman will be perfectly safe, Sabrina. No doubt she has even now been returned to the house and is having her hurts attended to.”

“Of course she’s safe,” said Scopwick impatiently. “Didn’t I just say so? But now that you are feeling more the thing, my lady,” he added, turning to Sabrina, “I want to know just what you were about, to be walking through those woods with naught but a scatterbrained wench to bear you company.” When Sabrina fluttered her hands and turned her scarlet face to the sofa cushions, he glared at Meriden. “You will not tell me, sir, that there is no carriage available for her ladyship’s use.”

“No, of course I will tell you no such thing. The decision to walk to Meriden Park was Sabrina’s alone. I did not object, so long as she took her maid, though I did assume that my mother would offer to send her back in our carriage.”

Nodding, the vicar turned back to Sabrina, who covered her face with her hands.

Chuckling now, Emily said, “You had better tell him, you know, Sabrina, before he accuses us all of having had a part in your mishap.”

“I cannot,” Sabrina wailed behind her fingers.

“Then I shall do so. The man is concerned for your safety, for goodness’ sake. He don’t care a pin for your figure.”

“Her figure!” Scopwick stared at Sabrina, then grinned, the grin changing his rough features, softening them and bringing a twinkle to his eyes. “You’re out, there, Miss Wingrave,” he said in a much more gentle tone. “Lady Staithes has a magnificent figure, worthy of great care. Don’t tell me, ma’am, that you were exerting yourself for the foolish purpose of reducing a single perfect curve of it.”

Sabrina’s hands fell, and her eyes were wide. “Lady Meriden said I was too plump. Indeed, and so did Emily.”

“Lady Meriden is a fool,” retorted the vicar, “and so is Miss Wingrave. So now that that is settled, I trust you will do no more unnecessary walking about these grounds until they can be made perfectly safe again. If you must go out, take a good strong footman with you. Do you understand me, madam?”

Sabrina nodded, still shaken and looking rather dazed.

Jack got to his feet. “Well, sir, now that everything is under control again—”

“Much you would like to think so,” growled the vicar, turning back to face him directly, “but there remains yet one matter that is of grave concern to me.”

Jack sighed. “The Runners. Look here, Mr. Scopwick, I have already talked to Tickhill, but they are just trying to do their duty. Jewels have gone missing, not only Miss Lavinia’s but also Miss Wingrave’s. Unless you can think of a better way to find the items or the thief who took them, the Runners will remain.”

“You’d do better to hire a thieftaker to find the jewels alone,” Scopwick said sourly. “Offer a large enough reward, man, and those baubles will turn up quick enough. Catching the thief is another matter.”

“I cannot do that,” Jack said quietly. “The jewels were taken right here in the house at times when there were no strangers about. Therefore, someone in the house is guilty, or someone from the neighborhood who could provide an excuse for being present if he or she were caught inside. Getting the jewelry back without finding the thief would let him think he can get away with the same trick whenever it pleases him to attempt it. I won’t do that.”

“Well, I won’t tolerate having my garden overrun, my housekeeper scared out of her wits, or young women assaulted on my very doorstep. I believe I have convinced those two nodcocks of yours that there is nothing good to be gained from showing their faces in my vicinity again, but I’d prefer to send them packing altogether. As for strangers, what about that Saint Just fellow young Oliver’s got visiting him? Don’t wish to cast aspersions—”

“Wouldn’t do any good if you did,” Meriden told him. “Saint Just was still at Cambridge when Miss Lavinia’s things were taken. I won’t send Tickhill and Earswick back to London, Mr. Scopwick, but I will order them to confine their efforts to Staithes—no, that won’t do, will it? The best I can do is to ask them to lie low until they have good reason to move. They have been running to and fro as a result of the attack on Miss Wingrave, you know, thinking their man and her assailant were one and the same. I can think of no reason to believe that to be the case. No doubt she merely startled a poacher in the woods.”

Emily opened her mouth to contradict him but shut it again when she realized that a debate on that subject would likely lead to questions she had no wish to answer. Though the notion of poachers roaming the home wood in broad daylight was plain ludicrous, she was just as certain in her mind as Meriden was in his that she had not been attacked by the jewel thief.

Mr. Scopwick agreed to the earl’s suggestion, albeit with obvious reluctance. “Said all along those two was a pair of fools,” he said acidly. “Still think you ought to pack them back to London, where they can do no further harm, but I’ll say no more about it if you can manage to keep them out of my sight. Miss Wingrave,” he added, turning to Emily, “you’d best see her ladyship up to her bed. She’s endured quite a shock, and I don’t think she ought to exert herself any more today.”

Sabrina offered no protest, meekly thanking the vicar again for coming to her rescue and allowing Emily to lend her the support of her arm up the stairway. When Emily returned to the library, Jack was alone, seated in his chair, perusing the topmost of a pile of papers on the table in front of him.

Smiling, he got to his feet. “See the damsel safe to bed?”

“I did, and she seems to have conquered some of her fears, at least. I don’t mean to stay, for I know you must have work to do. I came only to see if the heroic dragon slayer had been seen safely off the premises.”

“He has.” Jack chuckled. “I can just imagine poor Sabrina dashing through the woods with her shawl pulled over her head.”

“She must have been terrified, poor dear. It really is fortunate that Mr. Scopwick heard her cries. The Runners would not have known what to do with her when they realized their error. And those poor men! I don’t think, from the sound of it, that Mr. Scopwick can have treated them gently, do you?”

Jack grimaced. “I just hope he left a piece of them for me, for I can tell you that I don’t mean to treat them gently either. At the moment, the only thing they have to be grateful for is that no one else is about to stir my temper more than it’s already been stirred. I kept expecting Miss Lavinia to pop in, or Oliver and his foppish friend, or even Dolly. Where the devil is everyone, anyway? This place is as quiet as a tomb.”

“Miss Lavinia and Dolly drove into Hemmsley to visit Mrs. Bennett, and I daresay Oliver and Mr. Saint Just may very well have accompanied them,” Emily said. “Mr. Saint Just has been casting sheep’s eyes at Dolly all week.”

“Probably the man is bored,” Meriden said brutally. “Just keeping his hand in, so as not to lose his touch before he returns to the company of his London friends. He still means to leave for York in a week, you know, so I doubt that he’s seriously interested in attaching Dolly’s affections.”

Emily sighed, thinking, in view of her earlier thoughts on the same subject, that the notion of dalliance as a cure for boredom had come rather rapidly to the earl’s mind. She kept her countenance, however, and said calmly, “No doubt you are right, sir. Her portion cannot be nearly large enough to tempt him.”

Jack gave her a direct look. “It is entirely possible that some man may care for her, not only for her portion.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Emily retorted. Then, finding her gaze held by his, she lifted her chin and added, “A woman’s portion is of utmost import to any man who is attracted to her, sir. And a man in Saint Just’s position—you said yourself that he is no doubt retrenching—will consider only the amount she can bring to his coffers, nothing more.”

“You may be right about Saint Just’s motives,” Jack said, his look more penetrating than ever, “but I heard what Sabrina said to you yesterday. Are you certain that Stephen Campion turned to Lady Melinda Harcourt only for her larger portion and for no other reason? As I recall, her father was doing some retrenching himself at that time. Is it not possible—”

Emily turned on her heel and left the room.

Halfway up the stairs, she looked back, fully expecting to see Jack striding after her, but there was no one in the hall except William, holding a tin of brass polish in one hand while he polished a wall sconce with a rag held in the other. He glanced at her over his shoulder, but when Emily did not speak, he turned back to his work. Uncertain whether to be grateful or sorry that the earl had made no attempt to follow her, she strode up the stairs and directly to her bedchamber, glad that Sabrina was napping and that Miss Lavinia and the others were not in the house to plague her.

B
Y THE TIME EMILY
reached her bedchamber, she knew she was angry and spoiling for a fight, but she wanted one she could win, and she had an unhappy notion that Jack would best her easily in any discussion of her relationship with Stephen Campion. For one thing, that wound was still unhealed. For another, often though she had assured herself that it was Melinda Harcourt’s money and nothing else that had captivated Stephen, she had never entirely managed to convince herself of that fact, so Jack’s comment about Melinda’s father’s difficulties had hit near the bone. If he had dared to suggest Emily’s temper as the probable reason for Stephen’s betrayal, as he had clearly been about to do, she was certain she would have thrown something at him.

Slamming her door, she was disconcerted to find Martha seated in a chair by the window, a small pile of poor-box mending resting upon a stool beside her.

“Good gracious, Miss Emily, mind that door! You’ll have it off its hinges, banging it like that.”

“Go away, Martha. I don’t wish to talk to anyone.”

“My, we have pretty manners today,” Martha said, gathering her mending. “I shall return in a half-hour, for it will then be time to dress for dinner, will it not?”

“I’m not dressing. You may ask Molly to bring a tray up.”

“Someone,” said Martha gently, “ought to have smacked you long ago, miss, for indulging in such sulks.”

“How dare you!” Emily glared at the woman, but when Martha only returned the glare with a steady look of her own, she turned away, color flooding her face. “You are right, of course,” she said wretchedly. “I am behaving badly, and I don’t even know why. Don’t be angry. I’ll ring when I am ready to dress.”