Ransome's Honor (33 page)

Tears of disbelief, of umbrage, of impotent rage clouded Julia’s vision. She stumbled from the room. She would never have believed her aunt—her own relation—could be so cruel. The words swarmed and stung her mind like angry wasps. She could not believe anyone could be so barbarous, so spiteful, as to consider ruining the future happiness of so many people simply because Augusta and Drake had not achieved their own ends.

She fumbled through the house back to her room, closed the door, leaned against it, and slid to the floor. Lord
God,
how could I have been so blind? I so wanted to believe that Hedwig was just like my mother that I never suspected she might be lying to me, might be in league with Augusta. I know I have gotten myself into this mess, so it is my task to get myself out of it. But I cannot. This is beyond my wits
and
strength,
Lord.
Please help
me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

C
harlotte trotted to keep up with Admiral Glover, whose angry pace cut through the early morning crowd of shoppers on the street like a scythe through wheat. He looked over his shoulder and then slowed when he realized she was having a hard time keeping up, as were the two marines half-marching, half-running behind her.

When they reached the post office, Charlotte stopped with a gasp.

“What is it?” Admiral Glover looked around as if expecting to leap into battle.

Charlotte leaned close. “That’s Lady Pembroke, Miss Witherington’s aunt.”

Lady Pembroke stepped down from a fancy barouche. “Elton, I will be in High Street for about an hour.”

“Yes, my lady.” The driver touched the brim of his hat, hopped back up in his seat, and drove away.

Charlotte quickly slipped into the post office, Admiral Glover close behind. She had briefed the admiral on everything William had told her. Hopefully now they would start getting some real answers.

“Lady Pembroke!” Baroness Fairfax greeted in a tone so high, Charlotte was relieved the windows did not shatter.

“Lady Fairfax.” Julia’s aunt looked less than pleased to see the baroness.

“Augusta, I commend you for how well you are holding up. If it were one of my sons-well, I would be absolutely out of my head with anger.” Lady Fairfax made no point of keeping her voice low. Charlotte ducked behind the few other patrons to move closer yet stay out of Lady Pembroke’s sight.

Lady Pembroke’s face contorted as if she weren’t quite sure how to react. “Holding up? Why, whatever could you mean?”

Lady Fairfax took Julia’s aunt by the arm and pulled her toward the front window—closer to Charlotte. “My dear, it is all over Portsmouth. No one wanted to believe it, but it came from such a reliable source.”

“I beg you, my lady, please tell me of what you are speaking.” Panic laced Lady Pembroke’s voice. Charlotte hardly breathed, straining to hear.

“Why, the word about town is that your son has abducted Miss Witherington and is taking her off to Scotland to force her to marry him. What with the debt collectors hanging about his front door at all hours of the day and night, it’s no wonder he’s been driven to such drastic measures.” The baroness patted Lady Pembroke’s arm. “You must be relieved that Captain Ransome set out after them so promptly.”

Lady Pembroke looked like she was about to be sick.

“I see I have distressed you by speaking of it. You have my solemn oath that I shall not say another word to anyone on the subject.” Rather than look sympathetic, the baroness gleamed, no doubt elated at the idea of spreading this story further.

“You—” Lady Pembroke took a gasping breath. “You said you heard this from a reputable source?”

“Yes. Lady Dalrymple had the telling of it—how he had the housemaid slip laudanum into dear Julia’s coffee and then absconded with her when she was too weakened to resist him. It’s a good thing Captain Ransome discovered the plot so quickly and was able to go after her. Why, he will most likely be back with her today with luck and good providence, and neither of them need worry about her reputation being soiled at all.”

Lady Pembroke pressed her lips together. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I just remembered another urgent errand I must see to.”

“But—did not you come in to post a letter?”

“It can wait.” Augusta stuffed crumpled paper back into her reticule and rushed out the door.

Charlotte silently clapped her hands together and wended her way back to Admiral Glover. With a promise she’d tell him what she heard later, he marched toward the postmaster’s office.

A clerk stopped him.

“I am here to see the postmaster. Please get him for me immediately.” Though no taller than Charlotte, Admiral Glover’s commanding presence—and possibly the amount of gold braid on his uniform—seemed to intimidate the clerk.

“Yes, sir. I’ll get him right now.”

The admiral turned and cast a wink over his shoulder at Charlotte. She grinned. He might be crusty, but he was a fountain of information. And she found his stories humorous, even though William called him an old windbag.

The postmaster came out, his round belly barely contained in his canary waistcoat. “What can I do for you, Admiral?”

“Might we have a private word, good sir?”

“Private?”

“Yes. It is about business dealings you have had with a certain Sir Drake Pembroke.”

All color drained from the man’s face. “S-Sir Drake?” He muttered several curses under his breath. “I knew this would come to no good.”

Charlotte followed them to the door of the back room. The postmaster sank into a creaky chair at an overflowing desk and dropped his head into his hands.

“Then you do admit to knowing Sir Drake Pembroke?” Admiral Glover leaned his shoulder against a tall cabinet.

“Aye. He offered me money to divert a few letters to him. More money than I make in six months.”

“To whom were the letters addressed?” Charlotte asked, stepping into the room.

The postmaster’s head snapped up. “And just who might you be?”

“She is a party concerned.” Admiral Glover’s position never changed, but the bark in his voice made it seem he had just snapped to attention—and it certainly got the postmaster’s attention. “Now, please answer her question.”

“Letters to Admiral Witherington, Miss Witherington, or Captain Ransome.” The portly man groaned.

“Very well then. Charlotte, my dear,” Admiral Glover kept his eyes trained on the criminal in their midst, “please go outside and ask the marines to come in and arrest this man.”

“Marines? But I’ve done nothing against the Royal Navy!”

“So you think stealing the post of two distinguished naval officers not a crime against the Royal Navy?”

A bit shaken by the heat in Admiral Glover’s voice, Charlotte quickly retreated from the building and sent the guards in as requested. The red-coated marines escorted the manacled man out, and Admiral Glover offered his arm to Charlotte to see her home.

Susan met her on the front steps of the house. As soon as Admiral Glover relinquished Charlotte’s arm and bade them good morning, Susan pounced. “So, what did you learn?”

“The postmaster had indeed been taking payment from Sir Drake. The admiral has placed him—the postmaster—under arrest for corrupting the good name of his office. He had no letters now, but he admitted he had given letters addressed to Admiral Witherington and the admiral’s letters addressed to Julia over to Sir Drake.”

“The knave!”

“But that is not all. I overheard Lady Fairfax telling Lady Pembroke that she heard Sir Drake abducted Julia, and William had gone after them to rescue her.”

“Oh, good gracious!” Susan clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Abducted? Do you really think he abducted her? Wait—what am I saying? Lady Fairfax has never been known for her accuracy. Yet...” She took Charlotte’s arm. “No matter. William will put everything to rights when he finds them. Come. Your mother awaits within. We are having an early breakfast. We simply could not wait until ten o’clock, because our morning started so early.”

Once they all sat at the dining room table, Charlotte repeated what she had told Susan and then continued her story. “I am certain Lady Fairfax, despite giving her ‘solemn oath,’ intends to broadcast the story far and wide.”

“Good. Though I do not hold with gossip, perhaps justice will be served in this debacle.” Susan stood and crossed to the sideboard to refill her plate.

“I wish we had some way of knowing if William and Collin have arrived at Marchwood yet.” Mama lifted her fork but set it back on her plate.

“Shall I go over the calculations again, Mama? If it is a four hour drive by carriage, and a carriage travels at approximately five miles per hour—”

“Please.” Susan stopped eating long enough to hold one hand up. “Stop. No arithmetic at the breakfast table. It made my head spin enough earlier when you told us all of the variables and calculations. You sounded just like Collin and William when they are engrossed in their maps discussing routes and distances and speeds.” Susan shuddered. “Just tell us what time they should have arrived and when they will return.”

“According to my calculations, they should be arriving at Marchwood shortly. Unless—”

“Charlotte.” Mama’s soft voice carried a tone of warning.

All three women started at a rap on the front door.

“Who could that be at this time of morning?” Susan sprang from her chair. Charlotte ran after her out into the entry hall—and halted and dropped into a deep curtsey beside Susan.

“Lady Dalrymple, what an honor.” Susan sounded breathless, as if she had just run up a few flights of stairs.

“No, it is not. It is an imposition. Why, I imagine you have not even sat down to breakfast yet, and here I am knocking at your door.” Lady Dalrymple’s toothy smile sparkled in the morning light. “I see your guilty smile, Mrs. Yates. Come, let me impose upon your hospitality for a bite of breakfast, and I shall pay for it with information.”

Susan grinned and swept her arm toward the dining room door. “Come. Breakfast is just now served, and we have more food than we three can eat. I am anxious to know what you have heard about what has happened this morning.”

At Lady Dalrymple’s request, Charlotte recounted the morning’s experiences.

“Yes, that would explain why Augusta nearly ran out into the street in front of my carriage. I invited her to ride with me awhile. After all, I am the one who broadcast the news that Sir Drake kidnapped Julia.”

Charlotte laughed; Susan and Mama gasped.

“But how did you learn of it?” Susan’s hand trembled, and she set her coffee cup down. “We only know because Julia’s butler informed William very early this morning.”

“Julia’s girl, Nancy, once served as an upstairs maid in my country house. She was a gentle, kind creature, and I knew Julia would treat her well. When Nancy arrived at the Witherington house this morning—she goes to see her family out near Fareham on Sundays—she discovered Julia had not slept in her bed last night. Being suspicious because I told her to be so, she peeked into Lady Pembroke’s room. Augusta was still sleeping, but Nancy found a letter in Julia’s hand on Augusta’s dresser. Though I am certain it nearly gave her the apoplexy, Nancy absconded with the letter.” The dowager viscountess pulled folded pages from her reticule and handed it to Susan.

“The outside note is to Creighton.” Susan unfolded it. “She says she agreed to go to Marchwood with Lady MacDougall a day early, but instructs him to let us know and to keep watch on Lady Pembroke in her absence.”

Charlotte took the first note, and Susan turned her attention to the one inside. “This one is to me.”

Dear Susan,

I might be the grandest fool in the world, but I am going to Marchwood with Lady MacDougall a day early to have time to see the grounds and estate. If you have not heard from me by five o’clock in the evening Monday, it might be best for you to alert Captain Ransome that something is amiss. I hope and pray that Lady MacDougall is nothing like Augusta Pembroke, but I cannot bring myself to fully trust her.

The page crumpled in Susan’s fist. “Oh, Julia! For a woman so intelligent to have so little sense!”

“But, my lady, how did you know William had gone after her before now?” Mama asked. “Except for Charlotte, we have seen no one.”

Lady Dalrymple laughed. “How do you suppose Nancy got out to my house in time to relate her tale, and with ample time for me to be among the first in High Street? Julia’s butler, in an effort to calm Nancy, assured her
Cap’n
Ransome would handle everything, and he had their driver bring her out to my house armed with this evidence. I knew what Augusta Pembroke was up to the moment I read it, and set my own plan into motion. And I feel no guilt over embellishing the tale to cast aspersions on Drake Pembroke’s already soiled reputation.”

“Thank the Lord for your swift action, my lady,” Mama breathed.

“Yes, and for Julia’s wonderfully loyal servants.” Susan nibbled on a piece of toast.

“It really is too bad word cannot now reach the admiral in time for him to come for the wedding,” Lady Dalrymple remarked. “I assume, if the captain and Julia return today, the wedding will still take place tomorrow as planned.”

“I hope so.” Mama’s enunciation emphasized her softly spoken words. “The sooner they wed, the better I will feel.”

“She is truly blessed to be gaining a mother like you, Mrs. Ransome.” Lady Dalrymple inclined her head toward Mama. “I can see from Charlotte here and the good reports I have heard of your son that your children have never lacked for love and affection from you.”

Mama blushed. “Thank you, my lady.”

“I also hope you might allow me the honor of inviting Charlotte to come stay with me for a few weeks. I have a great liking for collecting young people around me. Then I can host a dance in Miss Charlotte Ransome’s honor next week, before her brother and new sister leave—we will wait to plan a more formal ball later.”

Charlotte’s heart pounded. An event in
her
honor given by a viscountess? Most young women of the
ton
in London were never distinguished in such a way. And what a send-off it would be as well. She begged Mama with her eyes to say yes.

Mama beamed. “I could wish no greater distinction for Charlotte. Naturally, if she wishes, I wholeheartedly consent to her staying with you.”

“Wonderful! It has been too long since I have had a young, eligible woman in the house. Miss Charlotte, you just wait and see if we do not have you well settled before Michaelmas.”

Charlotte’s excitement faded. Of course a ball in her honor would be so she could meet potential suitors. What would Henry think if he heard of her dancing and flirting the night away-as she had done at the Farifaxes’ ball not a fortnight ago?

“Naturally, we shall have all of the officers from Captain Ransome’s ship to attend—they should greatly enjoy it. And you must dance with all the lieutenants, Charlotte.” Lady Dalrymple’s eyes twinkled. “I hear they are all monstrously handsome.”