Quiet Meg (22 page)

“I couldn’t say, I’m sure. But you mayn’t be there longif at all.”

“And was Lord Sutcliffe surprised?”

Annie appeared to mull that over.

“I don’t rightly know what to tell you, Miss Meg. I was
so angry at first, perhaps I did not notice as I ought. He said
you should be certain you were eager to surrender your
life. That does not sound like surprised, does it?”

Indeed, it did not. Meg’s certainty wavered. The man’s
audacity seemed boundless-to place her in such straits,
and then play the philosopher.

“Having gained his end with me he is now strangely
keen to dissuade me. Did he say anything further about
the attractive circumstances in which I shall find myself?”

“Well, let me see … I don’t remember much he said because I was anxious to get back here to you as soon as I
could. As you know I … I do not like the man … “

“To put it mildly, Annie!”

“… and as I had to remember about the coach and time
and all. But he did say he was `eager to get on with the
business’ and he said you must `come to him whole’-no,
wholly, and that there would be no goin’ back. I think he
thought to remind you that you mayn’t never return to your
father, who would be unlikely to welcome you home.”

Meg swallowed. This was hardly in the nature of wooing
her to her future. Could the man have scruples after all?
But no, she should not hope as much. “Come to him
wholly” was clear enough. Meg sensed she would be measuring years before she felt whole again.

Annie had rung for tea and was carefully laying out
Meg’s best traveling dress. Given her earlier anger and obstinacy, Meg found Annie’s calmness now difficult to
fathom. But Annie had always had a practical nature, and
they had little time in which to ready themselves for a momentous departure. Meg could only be grateful. She found
reassurance in Annie’s silence and in her promised company. However unsavory the future she would at least have
that.

Once the tea tray arrived, Annie left to gather her own belongings. Meg settled herself to eat something. Part of her
wanted to see her father, to explain. But he would prevent
her from going-and she had to go. She hoped Annie was
carefully masking her own preparations to leave.

The household’s eagerness to carry tales was only too
obvious upon Annie’s return.

“Mrs. Ferrell came visiting, an’ your father said you had
to rest, so Miss Lucinda has gone out with her to make some
calls. And Mr. Bertram has gone to see to the horses, to
make certain they are ready to travel tomorrow.” Annie ignored the catch in Meg’s breath and carefully averted her
gaze. “Mr. Wembly-that’s the doctor, Mr. Walter-came
to see your father. An’ Giles, that’s Lady Billings’s under
footman as you know, took them some refreshments an’ believes Mr. Walter must have made an offer. Because Giles
said Sir Eustace was saying as how he would have to consult Miss Margaret on the state of her heart. Giles said, let’s
see … that Sir Eustace said that `in all honesty I believe her
inclinations lie elsewhere’. An’ Doctor Wembly looked a bit
like a sick sheep, or so Giles said, an’ left soon after.” Annie
at last looked up at her. “Mayhap you should be consulting
your heart, Miss Meg.”

“I do not need to consult my heart, Annie. I know very
well what it has to say to me. It would have me be foolishand see harm come to Mr. Cabot. I cannot suffer so. I cannot
see him lost in such a pointless manner. In a … a clash of
honor. So I do not rely on my heart. It must be stored
away”

“You think your honor pointless?” Annie asked hotly.

“Against a man’s life? Yes I do.”

Annie was shaking her head again.

“You are very young, Miss Meg. You do not understand
men”

“That is unquestionably true, Annie. And now I am unlikely ever to understand them-since I go not to a man but
to a devil.”

Annie fell silent as they finished packing Meg’s bag.
Then she offered to take it downstairs to join hers by the
kitchen steps. Annie had told the other servants that she
was readying her own belongings for the journey to Selboume the next morning. Annie would keep an eye out for
the quiet period, before the kitchen’s preparations for dinner began, when they might slip out into the alley. She would
collect Meg shortly.

Meg packed a few favorite books and personal items into
a satchel. At the last minute she pulled several violets from
the bowl Cabot had sent her, and pressed them between two sheets of vellum. They seemed little enough, to sustain a
lifetime.

When Annie returned and said it was a good time to take
their leave, Meg handed her the note for Cabot.

“I don’t wish this to go from the house, Annie. Perhaps
you know how it might be forwarded?”

“Is it to him, then?” Annie asked, reminding Meg that
she knew very few of her letters.

Annie took the note and slipped it into a pocket in her
skirts.

“There’s a boy who runs errands for the houses around
here. I’ll give it to him. Are you ready now, Miss Meg?
Your father is resting, an’ everyone else is still out. But we
must be quiet”

Meg nodded and followed Annie down the several flights
of stairs to the kitchen door in back. Annie had thoughtfully
found two umbrellas and placed them at the ready. Though
the rain had stopped, it threatened to return. When they
opened the door Meg realized the evening had turned chilly
as well. She was grateful for the light wool traveling cloak
that Annie had recommended.

She silently voiced a farewell to her family as she followed Annie out into the damp. She silently voiced a
farewell to Cabot as they walked past the high garden wall
he had surveyed only the previous night. The whole world
looked gray. At the mews entrance she could see a large
black coach and four dark horses. Two men sat above with
the coachman, while another, mounted separately behind,
held the reins for an additional saddle horse.

Meg had insisted on carrying her own bag the few hundred feet down the alley. As she and Annie made their way, one
of the men from atop the carriage jumped to the ground to
come toward them.

For a second Meg’s breath caught, for he was tall, like
Cabot, and something in his bearing, even in a highcollared greatcoat, reminded her of him. But as he neared
them, Meg noticed his black hair beneath an obscuring
wide-brimmed hat. As he reached to relieve them of their
bags, she also noticed the flash of bright blue eyes. It
wasn’t Cabot he resembled, but someone else …

“Miss?” He had stowed the bags and now offered a hand
to help her up into the coach. Again Meg felt the scrutiny of
those keen eyes. She looked around for Annie, only to find
that her maid had already scrambled atop to the box. Annie’s
desertion surprised and hurt her.

Meg refused to look toward Sutcliffe’s cloaked form in
the opposite corner of the coach. As they started up, she
settled as far away from him as possible and stared down
the mews toward her aunt’s garden wall.

“Are you pleased, my lord Sutcliffe?” she asked distantly.

“I am far from pleased. I am not your Lord Sutcliffe. But
as you are determined to shame yourself, I shall serve as
well as the next man”

Meg met Cabot’s gaze. In the dimness she could not
read his expression. But she did not have to.

She turned to the window and closed her eyes. She permitted herself a few seconds of relief-even of joy. Then
the anxiety and restraint returned.

“How did you know?”

“Annie,” he bit out. “At least she has some sense. Thank
God for her.”

When Meg glanced back at him she saw that Cabot had
resumed his observation of the wet streets behind them. He
must despise her.

“This coach,” she said, nervously stroking the upholstered leather seat, “is it ..

“Hayden’s,” he supplied shortly.

“And that man-the footman, or .. “

“My cousin David. Major Trent, Lord David. I apologize
if he was rude. He’s been foxed for six days running.”

“Oh no, he was not rude at all. I thought I recog-”

“We are all armed, Miss Lawrence. Hayden rides with the
coachman and Annie, and an outrider with David postern.”

“Why are you armed?”

“Should Sutcliffe pursue you. Lady Billings’s home may
have been watched today as well. In fact, that is likely.”

Meg fell silent for a moment. Even as the earl had
awaited her answer he had probably spied upon her.

“How did Annie find you?” she asked.

Cabot pulled a card from his waistcoat pocket and
tossed it across to her.

“From the violets I sent you as an apology. For presuming so much against your innocence.”

“I did nothing with Lord Sutcliffe.”
“

“Except promise him everything. I read the note you
sent with Annie. You volunteered, Margaret Lawrence.
After so much from so many. After your father!” He did
not give her a chance to respond. She would have told him
that he meant even more. “When did you decide? After you
saw him at the studio? Annie told me of your meeting.”

I decided this morning-not before.” She turned again
to the window. “I had no choice.”

“No choice?” His voice, his presence in the confines of
the coach, affected her alarmingly. She wanted only to sit
with him, to have him pretend to love her once more. Yet
his anger fed her hesitance.

When she glanced at him again his dark gaze was fixed
on her.

“How could you?” he asked. There was such disdain in
the question that she did not know what to say. “What did
he promise you? Your note said you would go to him with the understanding that he would keep his promise. What
did he promise you?”

Meg looked down at her clasped hands. It hardly mattered now. If Sutcliffe had not heard from her all day, if his
spies had witnessed this venture, it was all for naught.

“Whatever his promise,” Cabot concluded at her silence,
“he was most unlikely to have kept it. You may be assured
of that” As she looked to him again he said, “I see you
keep confidence with Sutcliffe-when it never occurred to
you to come in confidence to me”

“Given how understanding you have been, that is hardly
surprising.”

“Understanding? My dear Miss Lawrence, how can I be
understanding when I’ve been given no explanation? Last
night you might have said anything to me, and I’d have
shown you as much understanding as you could desire. As I
recall, I even asked if Sutcliffe had attempted to see you.
You did not tell me the truth. You had no faith in me. You
do not trust me” He turned grimly to the window again.

“I do trust you. I trust you in every way but … but one”
She did not trust him to get the better of Sutcliffe. In all
else she would trust him with her life. “He killed Douglas,”
she said aloud.

“Douglas was a brave boy. I am not a boy. And increasingly, I feel myself a match for Lord Sutcliffe-in everything base”

The
claim
gave
her
pause,
though
she
did
not
believe
it.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked faintly.

“To be wed, Miss Lawrence. Most opportunely. Since I
am at this moment compromising you”

“I cannot..

“If you could contemplate going wholly and forever to
Sutcliffe, you can certainly resign yourself to ten minutes
of vows with me. It will be most proper and aboveboard, I
guarantee it. I have a special license, through Clare, who
happens to be a great friend of the Archbishop”

“Sutcliffe .. “

“Must face disappointment,” he retorted. “I am determined that your life shall be your own”

“By marrying me?”

He appeared to shrug.

“As a method, ‘tis nothing-a construct.”

“Nothing,” she repeated. “A construct? Like one of the
landscape impositions you so disdain, a picturesque grotto,
perhaps? Or more aptly a folly! I think more highly of marriage than you do, sir.”

“Oh, I agree-the Countess of Sutcliffe sounds very
high indeed”

“I had thought,” she choked out, “more highly of you.”

“And I of you. So, Miss Lawrence, we are at pointe non
plus. “

She was crying, but in the darkness she knew he could
not see. She dared not raise a hand to her face. She could
not believe they could reproach each other so.

“By marrying me, you will have choice,” he said, though
he spoke to the dark window. The carriage lights had not
been lit. “You will have choice beyond anything you could
otherwise have envisaged. And you will have the protection
of Braughton-and of Hayden. You need not spend a moment more thinking of Sutcliffe-not one second. Unless
you choose to. And you will have Brookslea…” For a moment he fell silent. He was relaying his reasoning, as calmly as possible. Meg knew she should have been grateful, but she could not be grateful for such coldness.

“Once wed, you may choose to do as you please. You
will be a young and wealthy wife. You may follow the path
of the Comtesse d’Avigne, whom you so admire. Perhaps
you will soon be a young and wealthy widow. Then no
one, not even Miss Lawrence of Selbourne, can censure
you.”