Damsel in Distress (16 page)

“Well now, what do you think of this?” she asked, and read aloud, “My dear Lady Georgiana: You are, of course, aware that Lady Winbourne will be visiting Lady Helen and myself at Elmhurst for a few days. We would be pleased if you would join us, if it is convenient for you. It would be nice to see you again, and talk over the old days. Sincerely, Lady Milchamp.”

“Lovely, but I should mention, Georgie, that there might be a little more excitement than you bargain for,” Caro cautioned. “When the Frenchies discover Lady Helen is not in London,
they
will not be long concluding where she is.”

“I could do with a little excess of excitement after fifty years of ennui. I would be alone here, with you gone. You don’t mind, Caro?”

“I’m delighted! I wanted to ask you myself.”

Georgiana bustled off to prepare her trunk, and before long, Newton was shown into the saloon, panting from moving so quickly. “What has happened?” he demanded. “You dragged me away from my gammon and eggs. Have you had Townshend after you?”

“The Bow Street magistrate? No, of course not. We are going to Elmhurst to help look after Lady Helen. I do hope you can come, Newt. I told Dolmain you would.”

“He has been here pestering you, has he?”

“Not pestering,” she said, and filled him in on the visit.

Newt was thrilled with this opportunity of being with Lady Helen, away from the distractions of other gentlemen.

“I will have peace and quiet to get down to serious work on my epic,” he said. “Daresay Lady Helen will give me a hand with the research since she is such a keen admirer of epics. Elmhurst is bound to have a library. I’ll drop by Hatchard’s before leaving and see what books I can pick up, just in case.”

“Don’t forget to bring your pistol,” Caroline said, to remind him he had more pressing duties than poetry.

“Yes, by Jove. I’ll culp a dozen wafers at Manton’s Shooting Gallery this afternoon to hone my aim.”

“We are to be at Dolmain’s at nine tonight,” she said.

“Pick you up at eight-thirty
—
or would you like me to come for dinner?” he asked hopefully. Newt’s cook was not born to the apron, but Newt was too softhearted to turn him off.

“Yes, do.”

“Good.” He left, smiling.

The day dragged by, every minute seeming an hour, yet there was hardly time to attend to all the details involved in the visit. Notes flew from the Horse Guards to Curzon Street and Berkeley Square. With the increase in passengers, two carriages were now desirable. Newt’s uncrested traveling carriage would provide some measure of anonymity. More notes were dispatched and replies sent back.

Lady Georgiana notified the stable not to send her mount around that morning. There were gowns to be chosen and packed. The ladies decided to take the minimum, sharing a small trunk between them. It was not likely that Lady Milchamp would be entertaining at this time, and if they were chased on the highway, a lightly burdened carriage could move more quickly. Georgie’s cheeks were rosier than they had been in three decades. Crumm was given instructions for the running of the household during the ladies’ absence.

By late afternoon, Caroline could think of nothing else to do but sit down and worry. They took dinner in their traveling clothes for convenience sake. Caroline could hardly swallow for anxiety over Dolmain and Helen. Most of all she worried that the same fate was planned for Helen as had befallen Miss Blanchard. Her dislike of the girl was gradually being replaced by pity. Helen was only seventeen, and had been raised in the country. She would be an easy prey to unscrupulous criminals.

Helen was possibly the only person in London other than the murderer who knew what had happened to the diamond necklace. Whoever had conned it out of her might decide the best way to keep her silent and himself safe was to kill her. Caro shook away the frightening thought. Helen was safe at Curzon Street. In a few hours she would be out of London, heavily guarded and under cover of darkness. She would be safe.

At eight-thirty Newton sent for his carriage. The trunks were stowed, and the three passengers crept out into the night, peering over their shoulders at shadows. Dolmain, Lady Helen, and Lady Milchamp were waiting for them in the elegant Blue Saloon on Curzon Street. The ladies were already dressed for travel. Dolmain looked sober, Lady Milchamp distressed, and Helen looked as if she hardly realized what was going on.

Caroline had met Lady Milchamp before and knew her to be an elegant creature. Although she was no beauty, where nature had failed, art and science had come to her aid. A henna rinse did for her fading hair what the rouge pot did for her cheeks
—
gave it a lively touch of color. She had run a little to flesh, with full cheeks giving some illusion of youth. She welcomed the guests, then turned to talk to Georgiana.

Dolmain directed a commanding glance at his daughter. Helen apologized stiffly to Caroline, who accepted the speech more gracefully. Dolmain’s nervous pacing betrayed his eagerness to see his daughter safely out of town. He called Caroline aside to outline the route he had decided on.

“I am sorry to see ladies strike out after dark, but there is no need to travel all night. You should be at Reigate around midnight. Stop at the White Hart there. I have had a footman go ahead to reserve rooms. I am sending four footmen with you, two with my own rig, and two with Newton’s. It might be best if Helen travels with you and Newton in his rig, leaving Lady Milchamp and Lady Georgiana to go in my crested carriage.” Caro nodded her agreement.

“The two carriages will stay together, of course,
”
he continued. “We’ll let mine go first. If anyone is watching, he will assume Helen is in my carriage. Do you have a pistol?”

“Newt has one in the carriage, and I brought my own, a small one Ju
—
Julian gave me to carry in my pocket.”

“Good for Julian,” he said, with a look that acknowledged her hesitation over naming him, and told her it was all right. “I hate to see you leave, my dear, but I really think
—
”

“The sooner we are off, the sooner Helen will be safe. Good-bye, Dolmain. I shall watch her to the best of my ability.”

“I know it. What I do not know is how I can thank you.”

She gave him a teasing smile. “I am sure you will think of something, milord.”

“
You may be very sure I will. I only wish we were alone
—
”

But they were not alone. Even as he spoke, Lady Milchamp came bustling forward. They were off, with fond farewells and a few last-minute warnings to take care.

Helen went out to the carriage on Newton’s arm. Not knowing the arrangements had been made by Dolmain, Newt was as pleased as punch that she chose to drive with him. Dolmain’s rig drew away first, with Newton’s following closely behind it.

Newton shared a banquette with Caroline; Helen sat alone on the other side. He looked across the shadowy space and said, “I have begun research on my epic, Lady Helen. Daresay your library at Elmhurst has some books on the subject.”

Helen said, “I don’t know. I only visit the French part of the library.” Then she yawned, shielding her lips with her gloved fingers.
“Comme je suis fatigueé!
I shall just curl up and try to sleep a little.
Bonsoir.”

Newton unfolded a rug he kept in the carriage and placed it tenderly over her. He then turned to Caro, touching his finger to his lips to signal that she was not to speak. Helen’s uncivil behavior did not endear her to Caro, but on the other hand, she wanted time to think, and had not anticipated much pleasure from three hours of stilted conversation with the girl.

Caroline did not sleep, nor did Newton. She forced her thoughts from Dolmain to consider what they should do if they were stopped along the way. Both she and Newt were armed; they would just have to shoot their way free. When Newt was not gazing in a lover-like way across the shadows at the covered form on the other banquette, he was peering out the window for attackers. The trip was uneventful, however. There were few carriages on the road, and all appeared to be innocent. Shortly after midnight, they reached the White Hart in Reigate.

“My head will not be sorry to find a pillow,” Newt said.

As Lady Helen immediately sat up, it was hard to believe she had been sleeping. “Are we here?” she asked.

A glance out the window showed no suspicious strangers lurking about. With four footmen and two grooms and Newton to guard them, the ladies made it safely into the inn and to their rooms. Helen was to share her chamber with her aunt; Caro and Georgie had the adjoining room, with Newton across the hall.

The party stopped a moment in the hallway outside their chambers to discuss plans for the morning.

Lady Milchamp said, “Dolmain was eager for us to start early. Is nine o’clock too early for you, Lady Georgiana?”

“I thought we would leave at first light,” Caroline said. “Six-thirty or seven.”

“Oh, not that early, surely!” Lady Milchamp exclaimed.

“Split the difference, leave at eight,” Newton suggested.

After much discussion, it was agreed they would meet in a private parlor for breakfast at eight. They all breathed a sigh of relief as they went to their various chambers.

“Did you learn anything from Helen?” Georgie asked, as they prepared for bed.

“Not a thing. She curled up and pretended to be asleep. It is pretty clear she doesn’t want to talk to me. I hope she opens up tomorrow. How did you get along with Lady Milchamp?”

“She has not changed one iota in thirty years. She thinks of nothing but balls and routs and fashions. She is au courant with all the gossip. It seems I would not have missed anything except three hours of rattling in a carriage if I had stayed home.”

“And thank goodness for it,” Caro replied.

“Certainly! I did not mean I wish we had been attacked.”

They both slept soundly. Next door, Lady Milchamp also slept through the excitement of Helen’s departure. They did not learn until morning that she was missing from her bed.

Lady Milchamp’s first fear when she saw the empty pillow was that she had slept in. She picked up her hunter’s watch from the bedside table, but her failing eyesight could not read the numbers by the faint light stealing through the curtained windows. When she lit the taper and saw the hour
—
seven o’clock
—
she knew she had not slept in, and she had a pretty good idea that Helen was not belowstairs having her breakfast.

She struggled out of bed, her annoyance quickly escalating to fear. Thank heavens Dolmain had convinced Lady Winbourne to come along on this wretched trip. That saucy hoyden would know what to do. She grabbed up her dressing gown and tapped on the door between their rooms, then went in, half expecting to see Helen with Caroline.

In Lady Milchamp’s view, those two ladies were cut from the same bolt. Wild and unmanageable, the pair of them. Helen acted nice as a nun in front of her papa, but there were odd twists in the girl. The dame disliked to say it of her own niece, but Helen was the slyest girl in the parish.

All she saw in the bed when she entered the chamber was one gray head wearing a muslin cap, and on the other pillow a tousle of black curls. She cleared her throat. When this brought no reaction, she gingerly shook Caroline’s shoulder.

Caroline opened her eyes at once, looked in confusion at Lady Milchamp, then quickly sat up. “What is it?” she demanded.

“She is gone! Kidnapped out from under our noses!” Lady Milchamp exclaimed, and broke into loud sobs. “They have stolen her away. I might have been killed in my bed.”

Caroline was out of bed and rushing into the next room while Lady Milchamp still sobbed and complained. Caro noticed at once that the door from the common corridor had not been forced, and the window was locked. Lady Helen’s trunk was half-empty. It looked as if someone had rooted quickly through it. She saw a cup on the bedside table, bearing the dregs of cocoa.

“Is this cup yours, Lady Milchamp?” she asked.

“Yes, I had a few drops of laudanum to let me sleep. I never sleep in a strange place, and with all the responsibility ... Oh, whatever are we to do, Lady Winbourne? Poor little Helen has been kidnapped.”

“She was not kidnapped. She slipped away on us.”

Lady Milchamp stared, but she believed it. “You see what I have had to put up with!” she said, and fell to crying again.

“I must speak to the proprietor. He may have seen something. You write a note to Dolmain while I dress and go below.”

She returned to her room and outlined the situation to Georgie while scrambling into her traveling suit. “I believe the chit left of her own free will,” she said angrily.

“Thank goodness for that!”

“I am not so sure it is any better than being kidnapped. She is too young and foolish to realize the danger she has pitched herself into.” As she spoke, she ran a brush through her hair, saying, “Wake up Newt as soon as you are dressed, Georgie. See if he heard anything in the night.”

Caroline hastened to the door. She gave a rueful look at her companion. “Is this enough excitement for you?” she asked.

“More than enough,” Georgie replied in a weak voice.

Belowstairs, the inn was already busy. Servants scuttled about with basins of hot water and trays of breakfast. The aroma of coffee was highly tempting. Caroline fought back the demons of fear that scratched at her mind. She went to the desk and said, “Lady Helen is missing from her room. Did you happen to see her leave?” She tried to keep her tone unemotional. If the clerk suspected there was blame to be placed, he might suddenly suffer an attack of forgetfulness.

“Yes, milady,” he said, smiling. “She asked me to give you this when you came down for breakfast.” He handed her a note.

Caroline’s heart was pounding violently against her chest as she opened the page and read: “Dear Lady Winbourne: Please do not be angry with me, but I had to go. I am with friends, perfectly safe. Do not tell Papa. Sincerely, Lady Helen.”