Beth Andrews (3 page)

‘He is not reticent in the matter of explanations for his behavior,’ Rosalind said.

‘I am absolutely eaten up with curiosity!’ Cassandra leaned forward eagerly. ‘Pray read the letter to me.’

Having gone this far, Rosalind could hardly refuse her request now. She still did not know why she had not remained silent, but somehow she did not like the thought of deceiving Cassandra.

‘Dear Sir,’
she began, noting, ‘It is dated three days ago.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Cassandra was growing impatient. ‘Do go on.’

‘
“Please forgive my boldness in thus addressing you, a comparative stranger. I do not doubt that you will understand my importunity when you have heard what I am constrained to relate to you in the strictest confidence. Certain information has come to my attention which necessitates a disclosure of the most painful and distressing nature, involving as it does my own flesh and blood
—”

‘What can he mean?’

‘Allow me to continue, my dear Cass, and you shall learn.’

‘Forgive me. But indeed, it sounds so fantastic.’

‘Oh, the best is yet to come.’

Rosalind continued to read, attempting to keep her voice as cool and composed as possible. It was not easy, considering the nature of the words before her. Sir Jasper related the essential details of the wager which St George and Julian had made, leaving out only the name of the person who had suggested so repulsive a scheme.

‘I can hardly believe it!’ Cassandra’s face was a study in perplexity and total surprise.

‘If what our correspondent says is true,’ Rosalind said, reasonably, ‘it will not be long before it is proved. We have only to wait for the arrival of the two gentlemen in question.’

‘But you had not yet finished the letter,’ the other girl reminded her.

‘There is not much more to relate,’ Rosalind confessed. ‘He expresses his concern for your welfare — and my own, since it seems that this Julian’s confederate has the task of distracting my attention — and apologizes on his nephew’s behalf, and then concludes: “
I
only hope that, by acquainting you with these particulars, and trusting to your discretion, I will have managed to avert any damage to the reputation of your fair daughter, and that there will be no further distress caused by my nephew’s scandalous behavior ... I remain, sir, Your Humble Svt., etc., etc.”’

‘Well, this is certainly more entertaining than a receipt from the blacksmith’s!’

‘I am glad that you are taking it in such a charitable spirit.’ Rosalind could not repress a sigh of relief. ‘I was afraid that it might oppress you somewhat.’

‘Oppress me!’ Cassandra’s laugh was gay and strong. ‘How could you think so? Why, this is the most wonderful news!’

‘I would not place it in quite so kindly a light.’

‘I have heard Papa say several times that Julian Marchmont is a buck of the first head. I can hardly wait to meet him.’

‘Meet him?’ Rosalind almost jumped from her chair. ‘There is no chance of that happening — not as long as I have anything to say about it.’

‘You cannot be so chicken-hearted, Lindy,’ the younger girl complained.

‘I? Chicken-hearted?’ Miss Powell was conscious of a feeling of acute annoyance at this slur upon her courage.

‘Well, I think you are,’ Cassandra told her. ‘You seem quite afraid of meeting the two gentlemen.’

Her annoyance grew. ‘Two rakes, may I remind you,’ she said, scowling.

‘Well, that is better than two monks.’ Cassandra smiled her loveliest smile — one of pure delight. ‘It was you who complained that monks were rather dull company — which I’ll wager rakes are not likely to be.’

‘No indeed.’

‘Imagine being courted by such a man.’

‘Imagine being seduced and ruined by one.’

Cassandra shrugged. ‘But since we are already forewarned….’ she began.

‘In this case, that is small consolation.’ Rosalind stood and began pacing about the room in some agitation. ‘For heaven’s sake, Cass, only think how foolish it would be to encourage the attentions of such men! We are totally unskilled in arts of which they are undoubtedly masters.’

‘So you
are
afraid of them,’ Cassandra quizzed.

‘No.’ She halted before the younger girl. ‘I am merely being prudent.’

‘I understand that Julian is excessively handsome,’ Cassandra murmured dreamily. ‘All the young ladies in London are positively enraptured by him.’

‘As I am never likely to meet him, that can be of no interest to me,’ Rosalind insisted.

‘Well, a handsome face is not likely to turn
my
head.’

‘No.’ Rosalind swallowed something in her throat. ‘That is one eventuality I need not fear, at least. Still, I cannot but wish them as far away from here as may be possible.’

‘In Timbuktu, perhaps?’

‘If wishes were horses,’ Rosalind admitted, ‘they should certainly be galloping somewhere in the vicinity of North Africa at this moment.’

‘You are perfectly right, of course.’ Cassandra sighed. ‘We should have nothing to do with them.’

‘I am glad to hear you say so.’ Rosalind looked down upon that innocent face, with its strange, faraway expression. ‘But we need not worry. They will not find it so easy to make our acquaintance. This is one hen house those two foxes will not enter with impunity.’

‘I loathe the country!’ Julian scraped the toe of his boot savagely against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak, in an unsuccessful attempt to remove the cow pats in which he had so recently trod. ‘I was happy enough to quit it and escape to London.’

‘Then you should be happy to be here.’ Richard yawned. ‘You will appreciate the pleasures of Town all the more upon your return from this delightful hamlet.’

‘Damn my uncle! I must have been mad to agree to anything so idiotic.’

‘Such ingratitude, my boy!’ Richard shook his head in mock censorship. ‘I, on the other hand, am revelling in the rustic joys of our little holiday. It brings out the poet in me. I am of a mind to write a sonnet, or at least a lyrical quatrain:

To trip through meadows green and sweet,

And breathe the fragrant air so pure;

To
wander in such calm retreat ...
’

‘And frolic in the cow manure!’ Julian finished his flight of fancy with more relish than polish.

‘Please remember,’ Richard prodded, ‘that a thousand pounds hangs in the balance — not to mention your reputation, my lad.’

Julian propped himself up against the oak tree while his companion rested on a crumbling stone wall. They were at the edge of a large field of grain, and might have been the only two inhabitants of the surrounding area, for there was no other sign of human life, but for the thatched roof of a small cottage peeping up from behind a thick coppice at the opposite side.

‘This is far more difficult than I had imagined,’ Julian confessed, with a decided pout.

‘We were not exactly ignorant of the difficulty,’ St George reminded him. ‘If it were too easy, your uncle would have been a fool to make such a wager — which, alas, he is not. Besides, what would be the challenge in a prize which required no effort to gain?’

‘But it is impossible.’

Julian’s words, though despondent, certainly seemed to state the present case with accuracy. They had been in Buckinghamshire for five days, and had so far been denied even the smallest glimpse of their too elusive quarry. Their cards had been presented at Folbrook Abbey, but their attempts to gain admittance had been firmly — and none too politely — rebuffed. Neither gentleman was accustomed to such treatment, but St George was inclined to take the matter more philosophically than his young friend.

‘By all ordinary means,’ he said now, ‘it would certainly appear to be impossible. But when ordinary means fail, one is then forced to attempt the extraordinary.’

‘What do you mean?’

Richard folded his hands together, gazing up at the heavens as if in prayer, his eyes not quite closed but definitely narrowed — though this was caused not by religious fervor but by the brightness of the early afternoon sun, which necessitated a slight squint.

‘I see that you still have much to learn, young man.’ He did not look at Julian, but did not need to do so. He could well imagine the shade of annoyance which passed over the other man’s countenance. ‘Though the fox may hide, the hounds will scour the countryside until they have cornered him in his lair. Resourcefulness and determination may yet win the day.’

‘Does this fine speech indicate that you have a plan?’

‘Now do not be impertinent when addressing your master,’ Richard warned him. ‘You insisted on my presence here, after all. And you undoubtedly need my considerable experience, since it appears that you are unable to find a solution to your present dilemma on your own.’

‘Pray enlighten me, then, my noble oracle.’

‘What say you to a little … how shall I put it? … exploration?’

‘Exploration!’

‘After all, we had planned to have some pigeon fricassee this evening for dinner. But the two particular birds we are seeking are kept in a decidedly remote dovecote.’ St George cocked his head in the general direction of the abbey. ‘We have walked this far out of sheer boredom. Over that hillock, less than two miles hence, lies our destination – one might even call it our destiny. And even the most well-guarded birdcage must have a door somewhere....’

‘Or perhaps a window.’ A faint smile began to draw the corners of Julian’s mouth upwards. ‘Let us waste no more time, then. Once more into the breach!’

* * * *

An hour later, he was not so sanguine. They had trudged the rocky country lanes and waded through grassy meadows, working themselves into a fine, manly sweat. Having at last reached the abbey, however, their task seemed more daunting than ever. It was set in the centre of a large park, through which they certainly should not have been wandering. And the whole of the main building was surrounded by a wall which an Alpine goat would have found difficult to scale.

‘We might as well return home,’ Julian said, in disgust, as they carefully edged their way along the perimeter. ‘Even could we surmount this cursed wall, there are no doubt hounds on the other side which would likely tear us to pieces in a minute.’

‘Or perhaps,’ St George suggested, ‘the master of the house would have us dragged off into a dungeon — an oubliette, I fancy — where we should be tortured and starved to death, our bones being discovered a few centuries hence, chained to the wall.’

‘The master of the house is away,’ Julian reminded him, impervious to sarcasm. ‘That is about the only thing we have so far learned in our favor.’

‘I may be at ease, then.’

‘I am happy that you find the situation so amusing.’

‘I am deriving a certain amount of perverse pleasure from your plight, I must admit.’

‘I wish that I could perceive the humor in losing a thousand pounds. But at present I must— Hallo!’

This soft exclamation escaped from Julian’s lips as he halted at the edge of a large wooden door which was set into the wall. It was surrounded by thick vines, so that one would not perceive it until standing directly before it. But though the vegetation might be heavy, it was well pruned, so it seemed that the door might be used by the occupants of the abbey upon occasion, and was not permanently sealed.

‘Aha!’ Richard chuckled. ‘Heaven has heard our prayers.’

Julian scratched his chin, surveying the wooden impediment.

‘Do you think we might be able to pick the lock?’

‘Alas,’ St George said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Though I know it must sink me in your estimation, I confess that picking locks is an accomplishment I have never mastered. For some reason or other, the opportunity never came much in my way.’

‘I do not think we could break it down. It looks quite solid.’

‘I do not intend to make the attempt. Besides,’ he added reasonably, ‘it would be bound to attract a great deal of attention. Battering through wood is a rather noisy business.’

‘True.’ Julian’s countenance fell once more. ‘Do you think I might try to climb up the ivy? Would it support my weight?’

‘Possibly.’ St George considered the matter. ‘But we might try other means....’

With that, he brushed past his friend, leaned forward and twisted the heavy iron handle on the door. With the faintest click, it swung open, revealing a large open area of neatly planted herbs and flowers and a courtyard with a small fountain bubbling at its centre. There were arched colonnades on three sides and a statue of the Madonna and child gracing the central arch at the back.

‘Well.’ Julian sounded slightly disappointed. ‘I certainly never expected so easy an entrance. I am almost inclined to believe that you had it all arranged, sir.’

‘I have neither such foresight, nor such influence,’ Richard said, closing the door behind him. ‘But although it has prevented me from enjoying the spectacle of watching you attempt to scale the wall, I am grateful for the negligence of
whichever servant forgot to lock it.’

He had scarcely finished speaking when there was an ominous growl from somewhere close by.

‘The hounds!’ Julian hissed, looking about him with some apprehension. ‘Said I not so?’

‘So you did,’ Richard admitted. ‘But it is even worse than you imagined, for this particular hound seems to add invisibility to his other demonic attributes.’

They certainly saw nothing beyond the low hedge a few feet to the left of them, from which the growls continued to issue.

‘He must be crouched behind it,’ Julian said, backing toward the closed door, in preparation for a quick retreat, should the beast spring out upon them.

‘Welly!’ a soft voice called, from the shadows of the colonnade. ‘What is it, boy?’

Both men looked toward the spot from whence the sound had issued. But whoever the lady might be, she was concealed by the row of columns.

‘Welly!’ the hidden female called again, more firmly. ‘Come here, boy!’

At this, there was a furious rustling beyond the hedge, before a small, bristling ball of fur dashed into the middle of the pathway on which they stood. Planting his four paws squarely on the stones, he proceeded to address them in a burst of nasal, high-pitched barking.