Mayhem in Bath (24 page)

Dominic stared at the small, shaggy being in the middle of the drawing room carpet. “Good God,” he muttered, hardly able to believe his eyes.

Bodkin was a little offended. “Is there something wrong with me?” he inquired, smoothing his fur self-consciously.

“Forgive me, it’s just that I’d never seen anything quite like you before.”

“I’m just an ordinary brownie, you know. We all look like this.”

Dominic smiled at him. “And very agreeable you are, too.”

Mollified, Bodkin hauled himself into the nearest chair, but as he made himself comfortable, his tail curled neatly on his lap, he gave a careworn sigh. “What am I going to do about Nutmeg?” he asked.

Dominic ushered Polly to another chair, then went to a decanter of cognac to pour a small measure for Bodkin. He pressed it into the brownie’s hands. “I suppose it’s all right for you to drink this? I mean, your friend would appear to have something of a problem.”

“I’m quite all right,” Bodkin replied, promptly draining the glass, then holding it out to be refilled.

Dominic obliged, pouring himself some as well. He looked inquiringly at Polly. “Would you care for anything?”

“No,
thank you.”

Bodkin sighed again. “Ragwort told me that Nutmeg wouldn’t be able to communicate if someone had her belt, but what I can’t understand is why she can do something like adjust your shawl. Miss Polly, yet cannot touch someone’s arm to let them know she’s there!”

Dominic spoke. “Or how she can bring towels,” he said.

Polly and Bodkin looked inquiringly at him. “Towels?” they repeated.

“Yes. Someone female brought towels when I was taking a bath, and the maids are forbidden to enter under such circumstances.”

Bodkin looked close to tears. “Oh, why can she do that, but not make herself known to us when we need her to?”

“Maybe in spite of everything, she still has to go about her tasks,” Polly suggested.

Dominic nodded. “That sounds about right,” he said.

Bodkin nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. Oh, what if she’s in here with us now?” A thought occurred to him, and suddenly he dropped his empty glass onto the carpet, luckily without breaking it: They all three watched, hoping the invisible Nutmeg would pick it up, but nothing happened. Clearly she wasn’t present. Bodkin was immediately sunk in the deepest gloom. “If only we knew where her belt is,” he said, his voice catching.

Dominic couldn’t help putting a comforting hand on the brownie’s shoulder. “Well, I think we can be sure that Beddem has it somewhere. Have you searched his room?”

“Every inch of it. The belt isn’t there, I’m certain.”

“Perhaps he carries it on him at all times,” Dominic mused, reasoning that the key to a probable fortune would be very well guarded.

Polly sat up with a start, remembering something that had seemed insignificant at the time. “I think you’re right. He and I had a confrontation on the staircase, and when I demanded to know about Nutmeg, his hand started to go quickly toward his pocket. It was a defensive action, as if to protect something. What if it was Nutmeg’s belt?”

Bodkin’s eyes brightened. “Of course!” He sat up, his eyes glinting. “I’ll get it when he’s asleep!”

Dominic spoke up quickly to advise caution. “Don’t make rash plans, for Beddem isn’t likely to leave it conveniently in his pocket when he isn’t wearing the coat. If he believes a great deal of money hangs upon Nutmeg, he’s going to hide her belt carefully at all times. He may put it under his pillow, or even tie it to his big toe! You can’t go clambering all over him trying to find it.”

Bodkin was despairing. “Then what
can
we do?”

“Bide our time. If he is keeping it in his coat pocket as Polly suspects, then the answer is to do something when he’s wearing said coat. Perhaps he could be persuaded to remove it... ?” Dominic’s voice died away thoughtfully.

Bodkin’s lips parted. “I’ve thought of a way to make him take off his coat.”

“How?” Dominic inquired.

“Miss Polly could go for a walk with him in somewhere like Sydney Gardens, then ask him to sit on the grass. He’d have to take off his coat for you to sit on.” The brownie warmed to his idea. “Yes, and then she could ask him for a cool drink from the hotel! He’d have to get it!”

Dominic shifted a little. “No, Bodkin, for Polly must be kept well away from Beddem,” he said. “Besides, he wouldn’t
have
to take off his coat to sit on grass—indeed I’d be surprised if he did. One only sits upon dry grass, and if it’s dry, there’s no need to put anything on it, if you see what I mean.”

But Bodkin had warmed to the general idea of somehow getting Lord Benjamin to remove his coat. “All right, maybe it shouldn’t involve Miss Polly, but we’ve got to inspect his pockets somehow. What about the Halloween celebrations tomorrow night? There’ll be dancing around the bonfire, and no matter how cold a night it is, you know how fierce the heat of such a fire can be. I don’t recall seeing anyone dancing at such an occasion with his coat on, so if Beddem were to be persuaded to take part in the dance, he’d have to remove his coat, or melt.”

Dominic sat back thoughtfully. “It’s as good an idea as any, but who’s going to persuade him to dance? I’d offer, but I don’t think his fancy runs in that direction,” he said dryly.

Bodkin eyed him a little crossly. “This is supposed to be serious, you know,” he chided.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

The brownie continued to eye him for a moment, then returned to the matter of Lord Benjamin’s coat. “I still think we should persuade him to join the bonfire dancing. Couldn’t we hire a lady? An actress, maybe? Or one of those ladies who wait at the top of Milsom Street after dark?”

Dominic cleared his throat. “They aren’t ladies,” he said.

Polly spoke suddenly. “No, but
I
am. I could do it, Dominic. As a guest at the hotel, I have automatic entry to the gardens, so I don’t even need to worry about not having a ticket.”

“Polly, I won’t hear of it.”

“Why not?”

Bodkin wanted to know as well. “Yes, why not?” he demanded.

“Well, there are some insurmountable problems. Far from dancing with him, Polly, it’s out of the question that you should even
speak
to him. Then there is your intention to stay at the Sydney Hotel, which will be very pointed, and cause an even greater rift than already exists between you and Beddem.”

“Dominic, at the Assembly Rooms you asked me which was more important, my reputation, or Nutmeg. The answer could only be Nutmeg. She’s still more important than anything else.”

“But, Polly, I don’t want you to go anywhere near Beddem.”

“We have to do something, and if dancing around the bonfire is the best we can think of, we have to try it. Listen, I have some thoughts on how we could bring it about. I could send Lord Benjamin a conciliatory note from the hotel, saying I’ve had time to reconsider, and feel I may have been a little hasty. I could suggest a civilized meeting at the Halloween junketing. He will see it as second thoughts about snubbing a title, and since he is very eager indeed to lay hands upon my fortune, I hardly think he is going to refuse me.”

Dominic didn’t like it at all. “I’d prefer to find a way of searching for the belt that doesn’t involve you coming into contact with him.”

Polly couldn’t help digging in her heels. “My mind is made up, Dominic.” she declared, the glint of battle brightening her lavender eyes.

He groaned. “Oh, I am beginning to know that look,” he murmured.

“It just might work, Dominic. A written peace offering, a few words in a very public place, then an invitation to dance around the bonfire. Besides, I’m sure you will be gallantly close at hand, ready to defend me if he should step out of line again.”

“That goes without saying,” Dominic replied, resigning himself to the situation.

“There’s only one obstacle,” she added.

“And that is?”

“I don’t have a costume. Everyone will be in fancy dress.”

“Yes, I’ve acquired a sultan’s outfit, or perhaps it’s an eastern wizard’s outfit. One or the other. If you’re really set on proceeding with this business, I can get a costume for you. My former army batman has now retired and presides over the foremost fancy dress emporium in Bath. He owes me several favors, so although most of his stock will no doubt have been taken for tomorrow night, he’ll nevertheless be duty bound to find something entirely suitable.”

Bodkin was a little bothered. “I’d forgotten there’ll be costumes. What if Lord Benjamin has chosen something without a coat?”

Dominic groaned. “Oh, don’t look for any more obstacles, for we have enough already. We’ll have to hope he turns out in something suitable to our purposes. If he doesn’t, we’ll abandon the whole thing and put our thinking caps on again. Is it agreed?”

“Yes,” the other two replied.

Dominic looked at Polly again. “Are you still absolutely certain you wish to press on with this?”

“Of course,” she replied, but deep inside she was apprehensive.

 Chapter 31

The next morning Polly awoke in her room at the rear of the Sydney Hotel. Dappled sunlight streamed through a crack in the curtains, and autumn leaves rustled in the tall trees that grew just outside. The sound of music, hammering, and shouting came from the gardens, as the final preparations for Halloween got under way. Everything would be ready for six o’clock that evening, when the Duke and Duchess of York would arrive and the festivities begin.

She got up to draw the curtains back and was immediately dazzled by the sun as the leaves fluttered in the breeze. The music came from the hotel orchestra, which was rehearsing on the grand balcony just a little farther along from her window, but the hammering came from halfway up the gardens, beside the enormous completed Halloween bonfire, where a gang of men was erecting the wooden framework for the fireworks display that was to open the evening. Suddenly her trepidation returned, and she took a deep breath to try to quell it. She was the one who’d insisted on the plan, refusing to heed Dominic’s misgivings, and now it was up to her to go through with it. Oh, surely nothing could go wrong. There would be crowds all around, with Dominic, Bodkin, and Ragwort keeping an especial watch, so what could possibly happen? She lowered her glance for a moment, recalling that there had been crowds all around at the Assembly Rooms, yet Lord Benjamin had still managed to corner and molest her.

But the evening was still hours away as she looked up again, this time beyond the gardens to the open hills that shimmered in a haze of unexpected warmth. Lazy twists of smoke rose from the chimneys of isolated farms and cottages, the sky was very clear and blue, and the colors of autumn blazed as never before. Her unease slid away, for it was a wonderful morning. Or did it just seem so because on bringing her to the hotel last night, Dominic had taken his leave with a kiss that was so yearning and tender she feared she might die of desire? More than that, he had arranged to meet her in the gardens at noon. Caution had once again flown with the winds, and this morning she was ridiculously happy, but then her conscience prodded, for the love lives of poor Bodkin and Ragwort were so wretched. Oh, how she prayed tonight’s plan succeeded, so that Nutmeg’s belt could be retrieved, and Bodkin reunited with her. She hoped, too, that Ragwort could redeem himself in Caraway’s eyes. Then they would all be happy.

A wagon rumbled into the gardens from the equestrian gateway and made its slow way up the broad walk. It was heavily laden with turnip jack-o’-lanterns, which by nightfall would all be placed around the gardens, each one with a lighted candle inside it so that it shone frighteningly out of the shadows. She watched the bouncing load of horrible grinning faces and at last saw the significance of Bodkin’s enormous pumpkin. He was going to make a jack-o’-lantern that was so large it would frighten the daylights out of everyone!

A tap came at the door. “Begging your pardon, madam,” said a hotel maid’s voice, “but your uncle has called. He instructs me to tell you he’s just received your note and will await you in the coffee room.”

Polly’s heart sank. He couldn’t long have returned from the Assembly Rooms, where she hoped the cards had been kind, for that would mean he’d be in a less angry mood than would otherwise be the case. “Please tell him I’ll come down directly,” she called back.

“Yes,
madam.”

Polly washed hastily, spent ten minutes struggling with her hair, then opened the wardrobe, where her clothes from Royal Crescent now hung neatly, Giles having sent her luggage as requested. She selected the yellow-and-white gingham, composed herself as best she could, then went nervously downstairs. The meeting with her uncle was bound to be awkward, no matter what his mood, for she was defying his wishes in no uncertain manner. But he was going to have to accept that she wasn’t going back to 1 Royal Crescent, nor was she going to marry Lord Benjamin Beddem. She would fling herself on the mercy of the courts before she’d do that! Or seek sanctuary in Bath Abbey. Anything but endure an existence as Lady Benjamin Beddem.

The coffee room had been decorated overnight for Halloween. Sprays of rowan and ash had been arranged along the pelmets, traditional protection from the wicked spirits roaming free on this one night. Paper witches and ghosts adorned the walls, and fishing nets were suspended from the ceiling like immense webs, with large black spiders dangling menacingly above the tables. The room was crowded, and she immediately realized that the sole topic of conversation appeared to be the previous night’s events at the Assembly Rooms. The ball was said to have been subjected to a truly horrid haunting, and one particularly loud lady swore that with her own eyes she’d seen every single chandelier fling itself to the floor. The same woman insisted that the ballroom was so badly damaged it would be months before another function could be held there! The goings-on were linked to the debacle of the review, and the general consensus was that premature Halloween spirits were responsible for all the mayhem in Bath.

Her uncle was seated at a table by a window that looked down Great Pulteney Street toward the heart of Bath. He wore a maroon coat and gray breeches, and his walking sticks rested on the windowsill. Polly stood before the table, waiting to gauge his attitude before she sat down. “Good morning. Uncle Hordwell,” she said quietly.