Petticoat Rebellion (15 page)

“You all knew he’d changed his name from Brannigan.”

“He said he was running away from debts. No
harm in that.”

Penfel could hardly suppress a grin at this rudimentary notion of ethics. “You were receiving stolen goods.”

“Since when is it a crime to accept a little gift from a gent? And that’s all I done. He said he’d bought it. The green ring, was it the real thing, then?”

“It was. It’s a crime to receive stolen goods. You could serve a long stretch in Bridewell, Sadie. I’ll help you get away if you will tell me where O’Leary is.”

“It’s pretty clear he meant to leave me behind,”
she said, frowning in concentration as she made her decision. “He did mention once that a duke’s girl would have a handsome dot. He never said it was the brewer’s chit he had in his eye. That’s different. A duke would never marry his chit off to a fellow like O’Leary, but a brewer—O’Leary can act like a gentleman when he wants.”

A tense silence grew as Sadie wrung her hands  and frowned into the distance, and Abbie and Penfel gazed at each other, silently praying for her help.

“I’ll throw in a hundred pounds to see you safely to London,”
Penfel said, to tip the balance.

“Done!”
she said, and stuck out her hand to give Penfel’s a shake. She took his elbow and drew him away from the tent, to ensure her betrayal went unheard. “Let us see the color of your gold first.”
Penfel drew out his purse and counted out a hundred pounds. She stashed it in her bodice, gave it a satisfied pat, and said, “There’s an inn just south of Grinstead. The Duck and Dragon, it’s called.”

Penfel nodded. “I’ve seen the place. A raffish clientele.”

“Highwaymen and smugglers hang about there when the law is after them. They have regular clients as well, but the real money is in hiding coves from the law. I wager that’s where he’d take her. He’d not want to go far in an open rig. Mind you, he might be making a dart for Gretna Green. Worse luck to the girl if he is. O’Leary already has a wife in Ireland, or I’d be married to him by now.”

“You’re well away from him,”
Abbie said.

“He’s not a bad cove, all said,”
Sadie said, smiling in fond remembrance. “Full of blarney. And generous, like, when he’s in his cups.”
She shook herself to attention. “You don’t mind if I take Millie with me, Penfel? You know Millie is like a sister to me.”

“Take anyone you like,”
he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek, while Abbie watched in stern disapproval.

Sadie went back into the tent, and Penfel turned to Abbie.

“I’ll take Farber with me. You go back to the Hall  with Mama and the others. With luck, I’ll be with you in an hour or two.”

He took her elbow, and they began working their way toward the group from Penfel Hall.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I substituted Miss Kirby for Susan?”
he asked.

“I assume it was to make Sadie jealous. If she had known it was only kidnapping he had in mind, she would not have cooperated.”

“Yes, I counted on her jealousy, which is perfectly unfounded, by the way. O’Leary is mad for the wench. No accounting for taste.”

“Yet he didn’t tell her he planned to kidnap Susan.”

“I expect it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. He was angry with me for having duped him. He realized Bow Street was onto his circus lay, so that means of making money was gone. He saw his opportunity to snatch her and demand a handsome reward, and took it. He would have notified Sadie before morning.”

“I wonder who O’Leary will demand ransom from, you or the duke.”

“I know which of us has more blunt, and it is not me.”

“Yes, but on the other hand, it is you he is angry with. He probably knows how much he could get from you. This escapade has already cost you a hundred pounds.”

He turned to her and smiled. “A small price to pay for deliverance from a life with Lady Susan, wouldn’t you say? That is the alternative, if I don’t get her back unharmed, and very soon.”

“One could do worse than a dowry of twenty thousand and a handsome, well-born, well-bred wife who possesses common sense.”

“You omitted one of the major advantages—lengthy visits at Wycliffe and Elmgrove with ‘Papa, the duke.’
In fact, interminable visits. The Wycliffes are a close-knit family. No, no, a dowry of twenty million would not be a large enough bribe. Besides, I have other plans in the marriage department. But we shall speak of that later.”

Abbie stumbled at that moment, and used it as an excuse for her shortness of breath. Penfel steadied her and gazed down at her, with a small smile twitching the corners of his lips. “Knocked the wind out of you, have I?”

“Certainly not. I stubbed my toe.”

“Stub your toe, meet your beau. May I introduce myself, Miss Fairchild?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your marriage plans are of no interest to me,”
she said in a breathless voice. “Though I do think you ought to delay any announcement you are planning to make for a month or so, after your recent refusal by Lady Eleanor. Or so the world thinks, at least. The visit was spoken of a good deal.”

“You are right, as usual. But I shan’t wait that long to make my offer. Be prepared, Miss Fairchild.”

“Don’t talk like a moonling, milord.”

He tilted his head aside and looked down at her. “Do I hear a trace of Lady Susan in that speech? Come, Abbie, show me a smile to cheer me on my way. You know what dark thoughts will be harbored in my poor hollow old head as I fly,
ventre a terre,
to the rescue. A life of odious comparisons with Wycliffe. That’s better!”
he said, when an uncertain smile peeped out.

“I was just wondering what O’Leary will make of  Lady Susan,”
she said. “Do you know, I almost pity him.”

“Aye, it would serve him right if she accepted him.”

“He is already married, according to Sadie.”

“He told her so, but I shouldn’t be surprised if that is only a ploy to escape parson’s mousetrap.”

“I thought he was madly in love with Sadie!”

“So he is, this year.”

Abbie shook her head. “Men!”
she scoffed.

“What would you ladies have to complain about without us?”
he asked with a charming smile.

As soon as Penfel returned Abbie to the group, they all left the meadow. Penfel and Farber hastened on ahead and were just dashing down the road in the curricle when the others reached the Hall. There was no need to ask if Lady Susan had turned up. Sifton’s sad face and shaking head told them she had not. As they sat about the saloon, discussing what they had learned from Sadie and worrying, Lord John began to see he was missing out on some fine excitement.

“I ought to have gone with Algie,”
he said. “He and Farber may need a hand.”

Singleton hummed his agreement.

Lady Penfel said, “Dear me, I daresay I ought to go as well. I mean to say, if Susan is in distress, there ought to be a lady there to succor her.”
She turned an assessing eye on Abbie, who had been searching her mind for some excuse to join Lord John and Singleton.

“I will be happy to go in your place, ma’am,”
she said at once.

“Thank you, Miss Fairview. At my age, you know, I am not up to such carrying on. So kind.”

Lord John objected to this notion. “Algie won’t like our drawing Miss Fairchild into it, Mama. You know how he feels about—er, about ladies,”
he finished lamely.

“I know how it will look to Nettie if her daughter is not shown every consideration!”
she retorted. “Wretched girl. How on earth did O’Leary get hold of her?”

Abbie didn’t listen to the various suggestions as to how this had been achieved. She was busy deciding what she should take to help Susan in her distress. What
if O’Leary had beaten her, even molested her sexually? She would take smelling salts, along with plasters, bandages, and basilicum powder in case of wounds. A blanket or pelisse might come in handy, if her clothing had been ripped.

Lord John sent Sifton off to call the carriage, and Abbie hurried abovestairs to assemble what might be helpful in the rescue. When she returned below, Lord John and Singleton were waiting.

“Going as well,”
Singleton said, and muttered some incoherent sounds that Lord John translated as meaning Singleton was an excellent man of science, very good with his fists, despite his spectacles.

“I trust you to keep John out of trouble, Miss Fairchild”
was Kate’s parting shot.

Lady Penfel said more practically, “You have a pistol, Johnnie?”

He brandished a pistol. His joyful “Indeed I have!”
said clearly that as far as he was concerned, this night’s work was rare sport.

All the ladies went to the door to wave them off. Lord John called, “Spring ‘em,”
to the coach driver, and they were off in a clatter of wheels and a lurch that caused some discomfort to Abbie’s neck. The coachman’s lively pace jolted them about mercilessly. Through the window, Abbie watched the tall trees sway in the breeze. A fat moon shone benignly, silvering the meadows as the grass shivered.

“I say,”
Lord John exclaimed when they reached the main road, “Does anyone know where we’re going?”

“The Duck and Dragon, just south of Grinstead,”
Abbie replied. “I told the driver.”

“The Duck and Dragon!”
Lord John’s enthusiasm for the project faded. “That’s a nasty sort of place, a den of cutthroat thieves, according to rumor.”

“What sort of place did you think he would take her?”
she asked.

“That sort,”
Singleton said. Some further mutterings suggested the Duck and Dragon was no place for a lady, meaning Miss Fairchild.

“You wait in the carriage when we get there,”
Lord John said to Abbie.

After half an hour of jostling that seemed much longer, Lord John pulled the drawstring and the coach drew to a stop.

“The tavern is just around the corner,”
he said. “It might be wise to leave the carriage here and sneak up on O’Leary on foot.”

After a little convincing, Lord John allowed Abbie to accompany them to the inn, with strict instructions that she was not to enter. She carried the blanket over her arm, and in her reticule, the medications. As they turned the corner, the Duck and Dragon came into view.

The ancient building listing slightly to the left looked infinitely menacing in the darkness. A business catering to public needs was usually illuminated at night. It was a thatched roof inn of brick and timber, two stories high, with a low doorway and with a railed balcony running around the top story. Perhaps the criminal class had made this haunt their own because it allowed easy escape from a bedroom should the law appear unexpectedly belowstairs. It also had a small forest behind that would hamper capture.

As they drew nearer, Penfel appeared from the shadows and accosted them, causing a yelp of fearful surprise.

“Oh, it’s only you, Algie!”
Lord John said.

“What the devil are you doing here, cawker?”
Penfel demanded.

“We came to help you.”

“And bringing Miss Fairchild along on such a mission!”

“All Mama’s idea.”

“In case Lady Susan has been hurt, you know. I have blankets and medications with me,”
she said, indicating her supplies.

Farber came skulking forward from behind the building, where he had been scouting out the situation.

“He’s in there right enough,”
he said. “His rig’s not in the stable—it would be hidden in the spinney behind, but I recognized his nag despite the bootblack he’d used on its forehead to cover the white star. An old trick. I didn’t ask any questions. ‘Twould only alert the stable hands I’m after him. Considering the importance of the victim, I’m wondering if we oughtn’t to call in the local constable and a few recruits to help us.”

“The duke would not want any publicity,”
Penfel said firmly. “We have practically an army here.”

“A larger army within,”
Farber warned. “The tavern is full tonight. If we try to haul O’Leary out, we’ll have every man jack of them on our backs.”

Singleton lifted his hands, clenched into fists to denote his readiness for battle.

“Is O’Leary actually in the tavern?”
Abbie asked. “If he
is
abovestairs, you might get to his room without alerting the men in the tavern to your presence.”

“I tried to look in the window. It has dirty, crinkly glass too thick to make out faces,”
Farber said. “But I could see the size of the crowd, and it’s a full room tonight.”

“Does O’Leary know you all by sight?”
she asked, “or could one of you go in and see if he’s in the tavern?”

“He knows Penfel, of course,”
Farber said. “I don’t know if he’s onto me or not.”

“I’ve met him,”
Lord John said, “He’s seen you as well, Singleton.”

“Hardly glanced at me. Wouldn’t suspect me—
only a tutor.”

Penfel and Lord John exchanged a questioning look. “He’s an excellent man of science,”
John reminded his brother.

“All right,”
Penfel said. “Just walk nonchalantly into the tavern and order a small ale, Singleton. See if O’Leary’s there. Take a few sips of your ale and get out.”

“I will.”
He squared his shoulders and marched in without a backward glance. Singleton might be afraid to speak, but he obviously had no fear of physical danger.

“A good man, that,”
Lord John said.

“Does he have a gun?”
Penfel asked.

“Er—no. I’m carrying the pistol.”

Without further speech, the three men began to
move closer to the inn, ready to dash to Singleton’s
assistance at the first sound of trouble.

Penfel looked over his shoulder and said to Abbie, “Go back to the carriage, Miss Fairchild.”

She didn’t reply, or move. She just stood waiting, with her heart throbbing in her throat and the blanket over her arm, praying that there would be no shooting. Her only familiarity with the criminal class was a servant who snitched a few pounds from her purse. She had no familiarity at all with the rougher sort who used fists and pistols and clubs.

The men stopped a few yards from the front door, waiting. After a brief interval, Singleton came out, shaking his head to indicate O’Leary was not inside. Thus far, there had been no sign of trouble. It seemed O’Leary had taken Lady Susan to one of the bedchambers, then.