The Curious Rogue (13 page)

Hearing the front doors slam, Lady Waddington paused at midstair.

Elizabeth hurried to her. “Was that a message from Morton?” She saw regret cross her aunt’s features.

“No, my dear. The rider brought an invitation. The Chatsworths are having a day party on Tuesday next. From the note Mrs. Chatworth enclosed, I gather that it is to be an elite gathering. I am so happy we were able to do some shopping before Henry rushed us home. I do hope he returns in time to escort us.”

“Yes,” murmured Elizabeth, wondering if the comte would be at the gathering.

Chapter Thirteen

Looking from her window the morn after the invitation was received, Elizabeth saw a rider approaching Ashly and recognized the younger Miss Chatworth. She smiled, looking forward to a coze.

Suzanne Chatworth, although five years younger, was a close friend of Elizabeth’s. The pair had enjoyed trips to the lending library in Ashford, as well as long walks and other country pursuits permitted to ladies of genteel upbringing ever since the younger was released from the schoolroom. Suzanne’s lighter, more effusive nature effectively balanced Elizabeth’s more serious inclinations. They took great pleasure in their visits.

This morn Suzanne’s colour was more heightened than usual as she flowed into the small salon where the two oft met. She pursed her lips tightly, took a seat opposite her friend, and primly removed her gloves.

“You shall burst,” Elizabeth told her dryly, “if you keep the news inside a moment longer. I know that look.”

Suzanne scooted to the edge of her seat, but she eased back when Lady Waddington came into the salon. She fielded all of Lady Waddington’s queries about the day party with effusive babble. Her girlish chatter brought Lady Madeline to a standstill, and she excused herself.

“I thought Lady Waddie would never leave,” Suzanne exclaimed the moment the door closed. She jumped up eagerly and plopped down on the sofa beside Elizabeth. “My mother made me promise on my honour not to tell Lady Waddie who is coming to our day party,” Suzanne trilled the word, “but that does not include you.

“It will be the most glamorous party we have ever had.” She clapped her hands in delight. “You must wear your very best gown, for there are to be two eligibles present.” Suzanne paused and wrinkled her nose at Elizabeth’s lack of interest.

“There will be Lord Fromby, who is visiting with the Newcombs... and... Comte
de Cavilon. Father says he is quite plump in the pocket and an excellent catch. Do you think I might stand a chance of snaring him?” She patted a golden curl into place.

“Why... why I would not think you would want to,” Elizabeth stuttered. “I mean, I thought there was a gentleman who had captured your heart two years past.

“It really does not matter to me if you wish to try for the comte, but you must realize he is vastly different from the gentlemen we are accustomed. Why, he does not hunt or ride and goes about in powdered peruke and even wears facial powder and rouge.

“What became of that young man you have always refused to name?” Elizabeth asked, developing a sudden interest in her friend’s past love.

With a wave of her hand Suzanne dismissed the question. “Is the comte quite old then?” she asked. “Perhaps I might wed him and become a wealthy widow.”

“Suzanne!” Elizabeth looked askance at her friend. “How can you say such a thing? Comte
de Cavilon is... Well, he is neither young nor old, but not young enough to make you a suitable husband nor old enough to make you soon a widow.

“But why ask me about him?” she ended exasperatedly, upset as much by the other’s interest as by her voiced intent.

“Because,” Suzanne leaned close, “Lady Waddie called on Mother shortly after you returned. You should have heard what she said about the comte. Most unfit for maidenly ears,” she tisked.

“Then why did you listen?” Elizabeth’s annoyance tinged her words.

“It was so fascinating. Comte
de Cavilon offered for someone known to Lady Waddie. A shame she did not say who.” Suzanne sighed, watching Elizabeth closely. “But she did tell Mother that he rescued you both from a terrible carriage accident while you were in London, so I knew you had seen him. Is he ghastly handsome?”

“No. Yes... I mean no. And the accident was minor.” Miss Jeffries felt her cheeks grow warm.

“Why Elizabeth, are you angry at me?” Suzanne asked.

“Of course not,” she returned contritely.

“Then tell me about Comte
de Cavilon. Perhaps he will save me from being put on the shelf as you have been.” She arched an eyebrow.

“I doubt you will find the comte that appealing,” Elizabeth said curtly,

“Oh, we shall see,” the other said with a coy smile.

Watching the coquettish pose, Elizabeth began to wonder what her friend was about. She surely did not mean to try for Cavilon?

“You are interested in the comte?” Suzanne questioned.

Elizabeth forced a laugh. “Of course not.”

“I am so happy to hear that,” Suzanne said, rising. “Now I must go. There is so much to be done.” She brushed the other’s cheek with a kiss. “No need to see me out.

“Remember, wear your most attractive gown. We can, perhaps, interest Lord Fromby in you,” Suzanne prattled, and fluttered from the salon.

The visit prompted Elizabeth to go to her room and examine her suddenly meagre wardrobe. The most stylish of her gowns was the icy green muslin she had worn to the Tretains’ ball. At odds with her usual practical nature, she dismissed it as impossibility.

“I don’t know what to wear Tuesday for the Chatworths’ party,” she told Spense, who had entered with some daygowns she had just finished ironing.

“Why, the green muslin, miss,” the abigail answered, taken aback by this sudden interest in gowns.

“No, I cannot wear it. If only the other gowns we ordered while in London had been delivered. The deep blue would have been perfect. It was soft muslin with the new high waistline,” she told an astounded Spense, “trimmed at the sleeve, hem, and neckline with a deeper blue piping and white lace. A knock turned Elizabeth to the door. Yes?”

“Sir Henry has returned,” Niles told her. “He wishes to see you at once.”

“Oh, he will have news of Tom,” she said excitedly, “Leave things as they are. We shall continue when I return.”

* * * *

Sir Henry greeted his niece cordially. “Happy to see you looking so fit. Hoped you wouldn’t have any nonsense like pining away for that Cavilon. Rumours abound in London about the man. Some say he won Tenbury’s lands in a game of hazard. They are all wondering why he has disappeared without a word.” Sir Henry shook his head.

“Knew my decision was for the best.” He patted her clumsily on the shoulder. “Your trip to London was not a total loss,” he said, smiling brightly. “I have brought the gowns you and Madeline ordered. Thought you might enjoy having them.”

“Oh, thank you, Uncle Henry,” she said, filled with relief. “But what of Tom?”

A subtle hardening of the lines across his features portended ill. “The lad will have to return to London.”

“But why?”

“He ran away from his master three months past and must be returned,” he told her firmly.

“Tom said he was an orphan,” Elizabeth protested.

“That is true enough, but he was bound to a Mr. Bickle before his father died and must serve his term. The law is not to be mocked.”

“But there must have been some reason for him to run away. What work did this man have him do?”

“Honest work—a chimney sweep.”

“Don’t you see, Uncle? Tom is getting much too large for that kind of work. You yourself have told me of the abuses, how some masters light fires beneath the boys’ feet to force them up the chimneys. You cannot mean to send Tom back,” Elizabeth pleaded.

“I am satisfied that Mr. Bickle is a fair man. He will not use the lad in the chimneys but for running errands. The matter is no longer in my hands. Mr. Bickle came with me. He will take Tom back in the morn. This will be for the best. We cannot have you taking in every ragamuffin you see.

“Now go and try on the gowns. That will raise your spirits,” Sir Henry told her gruffly, his conscience beginning to trouble him.

“Has Tom been told? No, then I will do so,” Elizabeth said and hurried from the room. Going outdoors, she heard Barney’s angry barks coming from the stable. When she entered, she saw a sparse man towering over Tom. Only Barney prevented him from thrashing the boy soundly. Rushing forward, she grabbed the dog by the collar.

“Quiet, Barney. Quiet, now,” Elizabeth commanded. She was amazed when he obeyed.

“The lad be mine,” the man said belligerently.

“But not yours to abuse. He will go with you in the morn,” she retorted.

“Ye’ll not be taking that beast with ye,” Bickle swore looking past her at the lad. His eyes went back to Elizabeth and wavered. He turned and stomped out of the stable.

“Ye ain’t lettin’ him take me?” Tears welled in Tom’s eves. “Ye can’t let me go. Ye don’t know what he’ll do to me.”

“I know,” Elizabeth put an arm about the boy’s shaking shoulders, “but you must go with him. It will only be for a short time, though. I promise.”

Huge, tear-filled eyes were raised to hers. “Ye promise?”

“Yes,” she swore, “and I’ll take care of Barney till you return.”

“God bless ye, miss.” The lad pressed her hand gratefully. “I believe ye’ll do it.”

The lad’s trust shook Elizabeth. What if she were unable to do as she had promised?

Returning to the house, she hurried to her room. The abigail had removed the blue gown from its box and laid it across the bed. A glance at it sent Elizabeth to her writing desk.

“You may go, Spense.” She motioned for the abigail to leave. “I will call you when I need you. Seated before the desk, Elizabeth drew out paper and dipped her pen. Did she dare ask this of Cavilon?

I have to, there is no one else,
she thought, and hurriedly wrote.

* * * *

Early next morn Elizabeth stole from the house. She found Tom in the stables. Giving the lad the few coins she had, she instructed him to do as his master commanded and remain out of trouble until his bond was purchased. This done, she accepted the piece of rope he had tied to Barney’s collar.

“Best keep him close to ye, miss,
”
Tom instructed. “Yer the only one ‘sides me he pays a mind to. And he may try‘n follow me. Old man Bickle’ll harm him if he ‘as the chance,” he ended.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see to his care. Now do as I told you.”

“
Aye, miss.”

Farewells done, Elizabeth tugged at Barney’s collar and managed to get him to follow. Halfway to the house the huge dog suddenly halted and looked back to the stables with a soft whine. Tom ran to them and hugged the large animal tightly.

“Listen, Barney,” he commanded through his tears, “ye go with miss here. Guard her till I get back. Get now.” He rose and scuffed his foot at the dog.

Reluctantly Barney yielded to Elizabeth’s tugs and followed. She did not halt till she had him safely in her room. “I must go down for breakfast now. When I return, we shall go for a nice long walk,” she told the dog patting his woolly head. With a prayer that the beast would not do too much damage, she left him.

Returning a half hour later, breakfast having been bolted down, Elizabeth was overwhelmingly relieved to find Barney lying quietly by the fireplace. “Good boy,” she congratulated him. “Now for our walk.”

Heaven knows the Comte de Cavilon will not be about at this early hour, she thought as they made their way down the stairs, but I wish not to delay. I shall await him... if he comes at all.

Niles opened the door for the pair without showing a hint of surprise. But when he closed the door, he murmured, “Heaven preserve us.”

Barney strained towards the stables, but he followed Elizabeth’s tugs. The dog trotted willingly at her side when they reached the woods. Arriving at the place she had named for their meeting, she gasped.

Cavilon awaited her.

“My lord, ‘tis so early,” Elizabeth stammered uncertainly.

“Your note,
ma petite
, said the matter was most urgent. I knew you would come early. It would have been most ungentlemanly to have kept you waiting. Knowing your thoroughness, I concluded the hour would be sunrise. You disappoint me.” The comte sauntered forward slowly, halting but a step from her.

“You can’t mean you... you were not—” Elizabeth stuttered, then read the tease in his eyes and sighed with relief.

“Did you feel in danger that you must bring this?” Cavilon waved languidly at Barney.

“Oh, no.” She blushed at his implication. “He is the reason I wrote. Well, not really. It is his master,” she stumbled over her words, disconcerted by his nearness.

“Tom is being taken back to London,” she hurried on. “He ran away from his master, a cruel chimney-sweep master. I fear the man will... I fear for Tom.” She met his gaze.

“You wish me to do something about this?” Cavilon took hold of her free hand.

“Couldn’t you... Couldn’t you pay Mr. Bickle to release Tom?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly. His deep stare looked into her very soul.

“And what would I be given for doing this?” he asked, then immediately placed a finger on her lips. “We shall speak of that another time. Do not fear. The lad shall be saved.” Cavilon leaned forward as he spoke. His lips softly claimed hers.

“It shall be done for you,
ma chère petite
.”He stepped back and bowed with a flourish.

Barney tugged at the rope, forcing Elizabeth to look away. When she turned back, Cavilon was gone. A mist of confusion swirled through her.

Tom was saved, but what of her?

Chapter Fourteen

The afternoon of the Chatworths’ festivities proved splendidly un-English. Warm sunshine and a soft breeze dispelled the mist and any hint of clouds long before the guests arrived.

Mrs. Chatworth beamed proudly as she watched the assembled party walking ahead of her in the large formal garden, which was her pride.

The low, neatly trimmed hedges, planted in geometric patterns, gave mute testimony to the neatness of the English spirit. The gay flowering centres bespoke the lustiness of the English nature.