Anne Barbour (27 page)

“Yes, I suppose I do,” sighed Harry.

“Well, then, so all we have to do is—sst!” Gerard pulled Harry behind the stable yard wall. “Someone’s coming.”

They waited as one of the downstairs maids, giggling wildly and hotly pursued by the second groom, came peltering by them.

“Good God!” said Harry in tones of strong disapproval when they emerged from their hiding place. “The thing is turning into a dashed orgy.”

“Never mind that,” snapped Gerard. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

“Wait a minute!” cried Harry in some anguish as Gerard whirled away. Stumbling after his friend, he caught up to him at the stable door. “What about Winifred—and her reputation? We mightn’t catch up to them for miles, and it ain’t going to look any better for her to be seen with us careening about the countryside in the middle of the night than it would be the earl.”

“Oh, my God,” said Gerard, halting.

“P’raps we’d do better to just go tell Lord Simon,” said Harry, with the air of one who had already said this several times during the course of the evening.

“No! That’s the whole idea, here, isn’t it? To rescue Winifred before she gets in terrible trouble with Lord Simon—and Jane, and all the rest?”

Harry felt that there was a flaw somewhere in this reasoning but, as usual in Gerard’s schemes, it eluded him, and would probably continue to do so, he thought gloomily, until it was too late. He plodded after his friend, but was brought up short as Gerard stopped suddenly. He turned to face Harry, his gray eyes blazing with excitement.

“I have it, Harry! I know just what to do!”

“Hence, away!”
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
II, ii.

Jane entered her chambers, and closing the door behind her, leaned against it with a weary sigh. In a mirror on the far side of the room, she caught sight of herself and laughed mirthlessly. Still in her wings and fairy dust, she looked the part of bright, mischievous Puck, but inside, she felt more like Ophelia—some minutes after that luckless female’s death by drowning.

Untying the silver cord at her hips, she moved toward the wardrobe. Dear Lord, she wished she didn’t have to return to the party. She had never felt less like playing hostess than tonight. All she wanted to do right now was to climb into bed, pull the covers over her head, and stay there for the rest of her life. She turned as a scratch sounded at the door, accompanied by Hannah’s muffled voice. Jane bade the maid enter.

“I have your midnight blue satin ready, Miss Jane,” she said, bustling into the bedchamber. “It’s on the bed.”

Jane remained for a moment at the wardrobe. Removing her silver sandals, she searched for the pair of comfortable slippers she always kept at the front of the cupboard. It was only after some rummaging, however, that she was able to locate them. Through a fog of preoccupation, her mind registered the fact that the contents of the wardrobe were in some disarray.

As Hannah slipped the blue satin gown over her head, she noticed that the maid seemed in considerable agitation.

“Hannah, what is it? Is something the matter?”

Hannah shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I’ve been debating whether to mention this, but it seems there’s been some strange goings-on in the stable tonight.”

“In the stable?” Jane tossed the question over her shoulder as she bent to pull on her stockings.

“Yes, one of the stable boys came into the kitchen while I was there, and he said Lord Wye had just taken off for London.”

“What?” Hannah now had Jane’s full attention. “In the middle of the night? In the middle of a party, for that matter?”

“And that’s not all. The boy said that before he left, he was talking to his carriage.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, to somebody inside the carriage, o’course. And the boy swears he heard his lordship call out the name Winifred.”

“What!”

Hannah nodded, expectations confirmed writ large on her face. “I knew she would come to no good.”

“But, why didn’t you come to me immediately? Or Lord Simon, or—’

Hannah shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I didn’t think anybody would miss his lordship, and as for Miss Winifred—well, the boy wasn’t sure of what he’d heard, so ... All right,” the maid finished defiantly, “that girl has been nothing but trouble to you and if she’s gone off on the road to perdition, it seems like it serves her right, and no skin off your nose.”

“Hannah, how could you?! Quickly, help me out of this.” Her hands fluttered in a futile attempt to undo the fastenings at the back of her gown.

“You’re not going after her!” exclaimed Hannah.

“Winifred is my cousin, for heaven’s sake—and my friend. I cannot stand idly by and watch her ruin herself.”

Nor could she stand by and see Simon publicly humiliated by the defection of his affianced bride, she thought, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

Hannah’s lips tightened, but she said nothing as she assisted her mistress out of the satin gown.

“Good,” said Jane. “Now go downstairs and find Gerard. Tell him to meet me at the stables immediately.”

As soon as the maid had left, in an almost visible cloud of disapproval, Jane hurried once more to the wardrobe. Pulling from it a gown of serviceable muslin, she was again struck by the disarrangement of her belongings. Shrugging the matter aside as unimportant, she searched for the oversized cap she had worn in her frumpy spinster days. She would, she thought, prefer to keep her face hidden during her proposed pursuit. After some moments of fruitless delving, she was forced to the conclusion that the cap was missing. And so, she discovered with some surprise, was her “rig and tackle,” as well as one of the generously proportioned gowns she had worn when in disguise.

Since she considered this singular circumstance by far the least of her problems, she shrugged once more and wriggled into the muslin. Donning shoes and cloak, she hurried from the room.

Downstairs, she turned toward the rear of the house, but was intercepted by Lady Hermione, her sharp nose quivering in agitation.

“A word with you, Miss Burch.”

Jane contained her impatience with difficulty. “I am sorry, Lady Hermione, but I am in somewhat of a hurry and have no time for a chat. If you will excuse me.”

She would have brushed past her ladyship, but the woman grasped her arm. For the first time she seemed to take notice of Jane’s apparel.

“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

“Out,” said Jane shortly, attempting to pry Lady Hermione’s fingers from her arm.

“Has this anything to do with Wye’s disappearance?” asked Lady Hermione, her voice sharp.

The bottom of Jane’s stomach seemed to give way, and she felt that her brain was plummeting downward to escape through the void thus created. “Wh—what?” she croaked. “Why ... ?”

“That’s what I just said,” snapped Lady Hermione. “I have been looking for Wye, and just a few minutes ago I heard two of the footmen whispering that he was seen leaving. What I want to know is—was that hussy, Winifred Timburton with him? I could swear I heard her name mentioned as well.”

Jane swallowed. “Yes, I think Charles has left the house, and yes, I think Winifred may be with him.” She paused for a moment, debating as to how much of the situation she should impart to the woman who stood seething visibly before her. Coming to a decision, she spoke hastily. “Lord Simon and Winifred became betrothed this afternoon.” She continued in a firm voice as Lady Hermione’s eyes widened. “I’m sure you will agree, my lady, that it is of the utmost importance that this matter be kept quiet, for Lord Simon’s sake as well as yours. I am going to go after them, and if I hurry, I should be able to overtake them before they get very far. I intend to bring both of them back here with no one the wiser.”

“Excellent,” said Lady Hermione, “I shall go with you.”

Jane opened her mouth to protest this high-handed declaration, but closed it immediately. With Lady Hermione on hand, Charles would be much more likely to abandon his flight, which in turn would make it much easier to corral Winifred back to Selworth. She nodded, and Lady Hermione, without another word followed her from the house.

At the stables, they were met not by Gerard, but by Hannah.

“He’s gone as well, Miss Jane,” gasped the maid breathlessly, her chins aquiver. “Him and that friend of his. I sent three footmen to scour the house for him and they’re nowhere to be found.”

Jane threw her hands in the air, but murmured only, “That wretched boy!” before hurrying into the stable. After speaking with the stable boy and receiving the same story as the one recited by Hannah, with the additional intelligence that Charles’s destination was London, she ordered horses to be hitched to Harry’s curricle.

“That’s gone, too?” she exclaimed in response to the stable boy’s information. Refusing to allow herself to be sidetracked by extraneous issues, she commandeered the first vehicle she beheld in the stable, a commodious gig. In a few minutes, Lady Hermione seated beside her in rigid disapprobation, Jane clattered out of the stable yard onto the path that led away from Selworth and thence to London.

Inside, Diana had returned to where Jared and Marcus stood in the Crimson Saloon.

“She’s not there,” she said, frowning. “I asked a few discreet questions among the guests, and no one’s seen her since the conclusion of the performance.”

“She’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere, waiting for someone to come and make a fuss over her,” said Jared.

Marcus turned on him, but was prevented from refuting this calumny against his beloved by the arrival of Lady Teague, who bustled up breathless and disheveled, her jewelry in full cry.

“Have any of you seen Lissa?” she asked distractedly. “I spoke to her earlier and she seemed terribly overset. Now, I cannot find her, and I’ve searched everywhere. She is not in her room.”

“We’ve been looking for her, too,” said Diana.

“Oh, dear.” Aunt Amabelle inhaled sharply. “Then perhaps I was not mistaken when—that is, when I was in her room, I happened to glance out her window, and I thought I saw her scurrying across the lawn—toward the stables. I thought I must be seeing things. Oh!” She started as Simon, who had silently approached the group, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Seeing what things, Aunt?” he asked casually. He flinched as everyone answered at once.

“Missing?” he asked blankly. “Lissa?”

“Yes,” said Jared, “and Aunt Amabelle thinks she saw her running toward the stables.”

At that, the entire group turned as one toward the door. Simon held up his hand. Lord, he thought, it needed but this to complete his evening. The woman he adored was not speaking to him, his ward seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth—or, at least that of Selworth, and now his tiresome little sister was busily flinging spanners into his life.

“Wait,” he said to Jared. “It will look dashed odd if we all leave while there are still guests milling about. Jared, you and Diana will have to stay here and man the fort. Diana, will you find Jane and apprise her of what’s toward? Lissa mentioned something about wanting to go home to Stonefield, but I cannot imagine that she would have ordered a carriage put to and simply set off by herself.”

“Oh, no,” put in Aunt Amabelle tremulously. “She’s headstrong to a fault, but she has never gone beyond what is proper— that is—” She glanced up at Lissa’s brothers, who were staring at her in disbelief. “Well. Yes. Perhaps you’d best be on your way.”

“I’ll check the stables,” said Simon, “and if I find anything untoward, I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Marcus mutinously.

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but after a glance at the young man’s countenance, closed it again. “Very well,” was all he said as, with a gesture to Jared, he turned and hastened from the room. Pausing only to change from their scanty Grecian tunics into more customary attire, they came together a few minutes later at the stables. It was only a few minute after that that they were apprised of the departure from Selworth in rapid succession of Lord Wye and an unidentified female passenger who might or might not be Miss Timburton, of young Mr. Burch and his friend, Mr. Bridgeworth, and last, but by no means least, Miss Burch and Lady Hermione Stickleford.

“Jane!” exclaimed Simon. He leaned unsteadily against the stable door. My God, what could have caused this mass exodus? Much as he disliked the idea of further delay, he felt it necessary to put Jared in possession of these remarkable facts. His dudgeon rose like a hot air balloon at Jared’s response.

“What do you mean you knew about Charles?” Simon growled. “Where has he gone, and why the devil did Winifred go with him?”

Diana, who had remained at her husband’s side, attempted to explain once more her cunning plan for Simon’s release. For some moments, the rescuee remained speechless.

“You mean,” he said in a voice of awful calm, “that you deliberately persuaded Charles to run off with my ward?”

“Well—yes, I did—but it was all for your own good, Simon. With Charles married to Winifred—’

Simon uttered an explosive snort. “Is that what he told you— that he was going to marry her?”

“Mmm, yes,” interposed Jared. “I wondered about that myself. He would have needed a special license for that, which he’d have to procure at Doctor’s Common in London, and to my knowledge, he has not left Selworth since we arrived.”

Diana turned toward her husband, her gray eyes dark with concern. “Do you think he lied to me, dearest. Oh, dear Heaven, what have I done?”

Clenching his teeth, Simon swung on Jared. “You mean you knew of this—this lunatic scheme, too? And you did not tell me?”

A spark lit Jared’s dark eyes. “Calm yourself, little brother. I knew of it only moments ago. I cannot see, however, why you are in such a taking. Whether Winifred marries the benighted earl or chooses to live with him in moral turpitude, you’re still off the hook.”

“Off the hook!” Simon thought he must be going mad. “Jared, the girl is my ward. She is my responsibility. Do you think I can just stand idly by and let her become a Covent Garden nun?”

Jared sighed. “It was a responsibility that was forced on you. In addition, aside from posting a twenty-four-hour guard on the little widgeon, I see no way you’re going to be able to protect her from the consequences of her own folly.”