Ghost of Christmas Past (21 page)

“
I am sure that it will be fine,” Thea murmured as she eyed
the bright array of materials on display in the small shop window.
The chime of the bell above the door summoned a small, round faced
lady of indeterminable age once they were inside and Thea stood
back to allow Rupert to make the introductions.

“
Stay here until I come back for you, Thea. I shouldn’t be
long,” he ordered and turned to the modiste with his brows lifted.
“How long will it take to select several outfits and
accessories?”

The
modiste’s eyes grew wide. “Oh at least two hours, sir. We will
endeavour to take measurements so that the selected items are a
perfect fit. Where do we deliver them?” The woman visibly gasped
when Rupert gave the woman John’s name and address for the
deliveries and the bill.

Immediately the woman snapped to attention and began to rap
out orders to her assistants with far more skill than a general in
the army. As she was dragged toward the rear of the shop, Thea’s
stunned gaze turned toward Rupert, who shifted impatiently beside
the door.

“
Stay here,” he ordered. “I will be back in two
hours.”

Thea
felt as though she had stepped into a whirlwind she couldn’t get
out of. Her conversation with Rupert had been interrupted by their
arrival at the shop, but she had not had the opportunity to voice
any of her feelings before being swept inside. Within seconds of
him leaving the shop, she was shown to a tiny back room where she
was stripped of everything apart from her undergarments. She now
stood with her arms akimbo while Madame Coulieu and her veritable
army of assistants measured, assessed, and coddled her. She wasn’t
quite sure why the woman’s demeanour had changed from being rather
distant and snooty to overly efficient and enthusiastic, but was
slightly bemused by it.

Once her
measurements had been taken, she was seated on a plush chaise and
served tea and cakes while a vast array of dresses, shawls and
adornments were brought out for her delectation. Thea had never
felt so cosseted in all of her life, or so out of place. The huge
variety of silks, laces and the finest muslin made her ancient
walking dress seem even more dowdy and outdated than ever before
and Thea began to feel incredibly uncomfortable.

While
the modiste rambled on about the Nottinghamshire origins of the
lace she held, Thea’s mind began to wander and she mentally tried
to calculate how long it would be until Rupert came to collect her.
She suddenly wished that she had never suggested the outing at all,
but smiled and nodded when Madame Coulieu beamed proudly at her
selection. Thea sighed and watched her disappear into a back room
and nearly groaned aloud when she re-appeared moments later with an
assortment of undergarments for Thea to choose from.

“
Oh, well, I was only going to supplement my wardrobe,” Thea
gasped as she eyed the rather fetching kidskin gloves the modiste
displayed over one arm. “It has been some time since I have been
able to shop, you see, and I wanted to update my hideously outdated
wardrobe as quickly as possible.”

“
Your husband gave me his direction and said that there was to
be no expense spared. He left instruction for you to be kitted out
with everything a young lady should wish for,” the woman reported
proudly, clearly determined to carry out her instructions to the
letter. “I can assure you that these are the latest fashion.
Everyone is wearing them.”

Feeling
slightly brow beaten, Thea nodded and watched them disappear into
the back room to be packaged with the rest of the items she had
purchased. As one hour turned into two and edged into three, Thea
wondered if there was going to be anything left in the shop by the
time Rupert came back.

She felt
bruised from the very top of her head to the bottom of her soles
with the prodding, poking and measuring that had taken place. She
was certain that these ladies knew her far more intimately than
Rupert ever did and it was only when the modiste brought out a
newly designed, hideously bright ball gown that Thea knew she had
to do something.

“
Now, if Madame would slip off her underskirts, we can try on
this wonderful silk creation that is just in.”

Thea
shook her head. “No, it is fine. You have my
measurements.”

“
But it really would be better if Madame could try it on
beforehand, so we know what we are working to,” the woman argued
briskly.

Thea
knew when to give in to pressure and nodded her agreement. It had
been nearly three hours since Rupert had dropped her off and she
couldn’t stop the worry that began to grow. Where was he? Was he
alright? Had he been injured?

When she
had tried on the dress as instructed and deemed it too bright for
her tastes, she returned to the shop with determined strides. “If
you can package them and deliver them to Ridings, that would be
most suitable,” Thea murmured and began to gather her new gloves
and cloak.

“
Oh, but the master said to wait here until he came for you.
If you would like to take a seat I can bring you more tea, I am
sure that it is much better waiting in here than outside where it
is cold. It is going to get dark soon, and it is best that you
don’t go wandering around London unescorted. I don’t mind calling a
carriage for you, if that is what you wish,” Madame Coulieu argued.
She had clearly picked up on Rupert’s concern for her safety and
was determined to ensure that her most well connected customer
didn’t go without.

Thea
glanced outside. Dusk had already started to descend, and Madame
Coulieu was indeed right, it wouldn’t be long before it was
completely dark. It was enough to help her make a decision and she
turned toward the modiste with a smile.

“
If you wouldn’t mind calling me a carriage, I should like to
get home to see how my uncle is doing.”

“
Of course, madam,” she agreed and beckoned to an assistant
who hurried out of the door. “Now, I shall call by first thing in
the morning with your items and we will do a final fitting to
ensure that you are happy with your selection then. I must say that
I am delighted that you have chosen to favour us with your custom
and I am sure that you will be pleased with our
services.”

“
I am sure that I will be,” Thea murmured quietly. The over
attentive fussing was starting to make her feel hemmed in. She was
already in a shop that was overcrowded with dresses of all shapes
and colours, and the usual paraphernalia a modern lady needed. To
have a swarm of people hovering around her as well was starting to
make her feel giddy.

Within
minutes, a dark carriage pulled up outside. Thea was busy putting
her new gloves on, relieved at last to be able to leave the
closeted confines of the cluttered shop as she walked outside. Once
on the pavement, she took a deep breath of the crisp air and
visibly relaxed. At first she didn’t think anything of the rather
nondescript carriage that stood motionless outside the shop doorway
and just assumed it was the carriage the assistant had summoned for
her.

It was
only when she realised that the coachman hadn’t climbed down from
his box seat to drop the step that she realised that something was
amiss and she glanced up at him. Her heart lurched at the familiar
sight of the top hat the coachman wore. Suddenly the tea she had
spent the better part of the afternoon drinking suddenly began to
churn in her stomach.

Deep in
her heart she knew it was the same carriage as the one she had seen
outside of Ridings the other night; the one Rupert believed
belonged to the Frenchman who shot her uncle. She glanced to the
left toward the end of the mews that met with the main road and
watched a regular black carriage rumble past. The coachman who
drove it was swaddled in a cloak but otherwise looked relatively
normal. Unfortunately, the coachman who was seated atop the huge
carriage before her was darkly, almost sinisterly, garbed from head
to toe in black. Now that she had the chance to study him up close,
it was impossible to see anything of his face beneath the brim of
the hat. It wasn’t the sight of him that unnerved her, it was the
fact that he had yet to move or even glance at her.

She
shivered and jumped as the shop door closed behind her with a
thump. It took a considerable amount of effort to appear relatively
calm and at ease while she tried to decide what to do. The waning
light warned her that she had been in the dressmakers far longer
than was wise and it was going to be dark before she got anywhere
near Uncle John’s house in Mayfair.

Rather
than approach the carriage, she walked steadily past it with her
eyes firmly locked on the busy thoroughfare at the end of the mews.
With each step she took her mind raced and she tried desperately to
decide what to do. Should she go back to the dressmakers and stay
inside until Rupert appeared? What if he had been injured though
and hadn’t told anyone where she was? She could send a note to
Ridings, but had no idea if Marcus was still there and in a
position to be able to come and fetch her. She could send for
Argus, but he was a butler not a member of the Star Elite and would
be no match for a ruthless Frenchman.

She was
visibly trembling as she walked steadily toward the main street.
Her boots rang hollowly on the cobbles beneath her feet but it was
the only sound that broke the enclosed silence within the small
group of buildings. Her ears strained for any sound of movement
behind her, but there was nothing. She closed her eyes on a prayer
and thought about how her uncle had been shot. She was in clear
view of anyone who held a gun and wanted to hurt her. While she
approached the main street, her stomach churned and she waited for
the loud retort that would bring about her end.

By the
time she reached the main street, she was battling the urge to cry.
She struggled to hear anything past the heavy thumping of her own
heartbeat but was certain that the carriage hadn’t moved and wasn’t
following her. One quick glace back at the mews confirmed that her
suspicions were indeed accurate. The coachman had done nothing more
than turn in his seat to look at her. At least that’s what she
thought he was doing. His shoulders were half turned toward her,
but a thick scarf covered the bottom half of his face obscuring any
hint of a face beneath. It gave him a rather sinister air that
warned her that he was the reason why Rupert had not returned to
fetch her. She wondered once again if Rupert was alright, and
considered briefly if she should go to the relative safety of the
War Office, but had no idea where that was either. London was such
a huge place and if she did hail a carriage, she was only going to
get followed by the carriage behind her.

She
suddenly realised that she had no idea where she was, and was
unable to find her own way home on foot. She would have to hail
another carriage, and hope that the one in the mews didn’t
follow.

She
desperately tried to quell the panic that threatened to overtake
her, and hurried onto the main street. The low rumble of noise from
within the mews warned her that the carriage had turned around and
was following. She glanced quickly up and the down the main street
and was horrified to see that there was no public carriages she
could hail. There was little choice, she had to walk. At the end of
the road she turned in the direction she thought they had come from
earlier and lengthened her stride as much as she was able. The now
familiar protest of her legs as they struggled with the pressure
she was putting onto them made her gasp but she refused to slow her
pace.

Tears
gathered in her eyes. She used the people who were walking toward
her to dodge this way and that while she desperately scoured the
area for any sign of a carriage. She had no idea whether she was
even heading in the right direction, and was more than a little
concerned to note that the end of the road that lay before her
headed toward a residential part of the city where rows upon rows
of town houses were less likely to afford her any kind of
assistance.

Darkness
seemed to fall upon the city rapidly and it was dark by the time
she walked down a side street in desperate search of Mayfair. While
she walked she was aware that the carriage was steadily following
although it made no attempt to approach her. She could feel the
coachman’s piercing gaze in middle of her back but daren’t turn to
look at him. The fact that her uncle John had been shot was
something that she struggled to block out. If she even started to
consider the depth of the danger she was in she would let panic in,
and that could only work against her.

She
swiped at the first spots of rain on her cheeks with the back of
one trembling hand and fervently wished that she had never even
considered leaving Uncle John’s house. She had no idea how long she
had been walking but her legs were excruciating and she was growing
increasingly exhausted with every step she took. Tears pooled on
her lashes as she turned to the right at the end of the road only
to find herself facing yet another long row of houses that seemed
to lead toward nothing other than more accommodation.

Suddenly, behind her, she became aware of a low hubbub of
noise and turned to glance over her shoulder. She almost cried
aloud at the sight of people crossing the road, and carriages and
coaches rumble past on what was clearly a main road. Although it
was going to draw her closer to the carriage following her, she had
no choice but to double back and hurry toward the street lights,
people, and safety.