The Hopeless Hoyden (23 page)

             
Soon Emily drew Marabell to a halt in the middle of the busy yard of the White Lion, an ancient inn that had been serving wayfarers for two centuries.   She slid from the mare's back as a wizened old man approached.

             
“Ain't seen you in a while, Miss Emily," he called out with the familiarity of one who'd known her family for many years.  He pointedly looked about for a Pendleton groom.

             
Emily smiled.  “You need not worry, Timmons.  I came with the party from Lindemann Park."

             
“Heard you was staying with them swells.  Been behaving yourself, Miss?" 

             
Since Timmons flashed her a fatherly smile, Emily returned the ostler's sally with a cheeky grin.  “What if I were not, what do you expect to do, Timmons?  My brothers are not at the Grange."

             
“Well, now, Miss Pendleton," the old ostler said, drawing Marabell's reins about his arm, “seeing as how the mistress of this here establishment, Mrs. Purdy that be, is first cousin to the Grange's cook, who’d be Maude Hopkins, then I reckon I need only drop a word or two here--if you ken my meaning.  Come on, Marabell."   He shook his head and chuckled to himself as he led the mare into barn.

             
Unoffended, Emily ambled inside the inn where Mr. Purdy, the landlord, greeted her warmly.  He showed her to the private parlor secured for their party just as the other ladies arrived.

             
In the confusion of washing off their dirt for lunch, Prudence shyly approached Emily.  “Miss Pendleton," the young girl whispered, casting a wary eye over her shoulder to where Lady Spivey stood.  “Your brother said you do not live far from Lindemann Park."

             
“Pendleton Grange is east of the Park, across the high ridge," Emily answered.

             
“Tom, er, Mr. Pendleton, suggested visiting it sometime."

             
“Of course you must," Emily said, eying the nervous girl in the new light of a future sister-in-law.  “Do you care to ride?"

             
I fear I have no seat, but...but I do like horses."

             
Emily laughed.  “You would have to if you spend any time with my brother.  That is all he ever talks about."  Or used to, Emily amended to herself as she studied the delicate blush gracing Miss Burke-White's complexion.

             
“Miss Pendleton, would you mind--"

             
“Oh pooh, please call me Emily."

             
Prudence gave her a warm smile.  “Emily, would you mind accompanying Tom and myself one afternoon--"

             
“What's this, Prudence?"  Aunt Esmeralda came sailing over, obviously displeased to find her grandniece engaging Emily in a dialogue.

             
“I was inquiring if Miss Pendleton would mind if I were to visit her home," Prudence timidly replied.

             
“Nonsense, child," Aunt Esmeralda said, stirring the biddable girl over to where Deborah and Sylvia were seated.  “The Grange is nice enough but hardly the palatial home you'll find with an earl or marquis."

             
With an apologetic smile, Miss Burke-White took her seat, and before long, her attention was diverted by the two London belles who pointedly ignored Emily.  Lady Raines, on the other hand, directed a frigid stare at her from time to time.  Sylvia's mother had yet to reconcile the fact that Emily had nabbed the Viscount.  Neatly ostracized by the others, Lady Spivey was the only one who spoke to Emily, specifically to offer her a dish since the old lady was seated next to her.

             
When the innkeeper's son, a pimply adolescent who gawked at Sylvia and Deborah every time he entered the room, came to clear the last of the dishes, the older ladies began haggling over whether to begin their shopping first at the haberdasher or linen drapers.  But Emily’s eye was drawn to Deborah who inched her way to the door, then slipped out of the parlor behind the youth.  Without hesitation, Emily decided to follow. 

             
She expected the other girl to visit the necessary at the back of the inn but was surprised when Deborah turned to trek down the alley behind the inn.  Curiosity got the better of Emily, and she hitched up her skirts in hot pursuit.  Emily hung back, hoping to stay concealed.  Deborah did stop several times to glance back, and each time Emily popped into a door enclosure or dashed behind a wall, staying as close as she dared to keep from losing the girl. 

             
Several blocks over, they came to a particularly seedy area.  Deborah turned down a narrow street with an open, foul-smelling ditch running down the center.  The second stories of the shuttered houses jutted over the unevenly cobbled lane, blocking out the sun. 

             
Deborah's pace slowed as she searched the house numbers and, apparently finding the one she sought, knocked on the door.  When it opened almost immediately, Deborah seemed startled by whoever answered the door before she stepped back in a fugitive manner and looked down street.

             
Emily, seeing what looked like an abandoned building, quickly ducked inside the open doorway and held her breath.  Hardly a minute passed when she heard footsteps and glimpsed Deborah heading toward her hiding place.  To keep from being seen, Emily stepped back inside the dark interior.  Noticing the heavy planked door pushed against the wall, she whipped it around, leaving only enough space for the smallest beam of light to penetrate the dark, windowless room.  She counted slowly to ten, just time enough, she thought, for Deborah to pass the doorway and turn the corner.               

             
Suddenly, the door was wrenched shut, with the heavy thud sound echoing in her heart.   Plunged into total darkness, Emily reached forward, grasping for a handle, a purchase, anything.  Her hand felt a wooden knob, and she pulled on it with all her might.  But the door held fast.  Frantically, she shook the handle, then pounded on the door's rough planks, screaming for help.

###

              It was late when the men returned from the village, for the most part in a jovial mood.  All afternoon, Freddy wore a grin from ear to ear.  His uncanny luck, betting on one winner after another, had considerably fattened his purse.  On the other hand, Cecil's foul mood gave vent to his heavy losses, for not a single cock he'd bet on had shown to advantage.

             
“Don't always do so well," Freddy explained to no one in particular as the men piled into the hall to hand over hats and gloves to the attending footman.  “Also know my birds, you know," he added, clapping Caldwell on the back.

             
“Leave me be, you imbecile," Cecil growled, shrugging off the baron's hand.  “Your so-called skill had nothing to do with it.  'Twas mere luck.  And if you lay another hand on me--"

             
“That will do, Cousin," Gabriel said, stepping between the two.  “As we are joining the ladies, it's best we leave off with talk of betting and cockfights."

             
“Especially with the old biddies present," Ellison said with an expressive shudder.  “Can't abide Lady Raines.  Reminds me of my mater, always nagging me.  ‘Sides that, she's been quizzing me about my prospects."

             
Chesterfield acknowledged his understanding for the dandy's feelings with a nod of his head.  “Remember that conversation with Miss Pendleton, Ellison?  Happens just like the chit said."

             
At the mention of Emily's name, Cecil snorted derisively but couldn't keep from asking, “And just what did the hoyden say?"

             
Freddy glanced at Gabriel before giving Caldwell a funny look.  “Don't you like Em?"

             
But Chesterfield forestalled Cecil's reply.  “Said the debs sought our money and titles and nothing more."

             
“You don't have any money, Chesterfield," snickered Cecil.

             
“Got more than you," Freddy replied, for once goaded into a sharp retort.

             
No good could come out of this conversation, thought Gabriel, though he was curious to hear Cecil's comments concerning Emily.  He suspected his cousin's dislike of his wood sprite had more to do with the engagement than any personal repugnance Cecil might feel toward Emily. 

             
“Have done, gentlemen.  Come, let's join the ladies in the drawing room.  I confess a glass of brandy would not go amiss," he added over his shoulder, leading the way up the broad stair case.

             
The drawing room was empty, however.  So Gabriel applied to Pickering for the whereabouts of the ladies.

             
“They have not yet returned from Winchcombe, my lord," was that worthy's reply.

             
“Rather late, ain't it?" said Chesterfield just as a carriage was heard bowling down the gravel drive.

             
“Bet a monkey they found bargains," said Freddy, jiggling the coins in his pockets.  “Can't think why the old harridans would be late for their tea, otherwise."

             
Moments later, the ladies arrived.  Leading the way, Lady Raines sailed into the room, her livid face a vivid contrast to Lady Spivey's worried frown.  While the latter collapsed into to large wing chair, Lady Raines arrogantly settled herself on the sofa, removed her poke bonnet, and slapped her gloves into it before placing the hat on the seat next to her.  “A sherry, please, someone," she requested haughtily through tight lips. 

             
Gabriel watched the younger ladies file in with the same mixture of consternation or anger registering on their countenances.  Deborah, he saw, was the only one who appeared unperturbed.  Looking among them, he noted Emily's absence.  After reaching for the bell pull to order sherry and tea, he said, “We expected you ladies would be back hours ago."

             
“Humph," grunted Lady Raines from the couch.  “That gel took off without a word.  One would assume common decency--"

             
“What girl?" asked Gabriel with growing dread.

             
“Lay you odds it's Emily," Tom said with certainty.

             
“Of course, Emily," corroborated Aunt Esmeralda, digging in her reticule to retrieve a laced hanky.  “The unnatural gel left the inn after lunch, and no one has seen or heard of her since."

             
“What's this?" asked Gabriel, but as Pickering entered with a tea cart, no one answered.  Grinding his teeth, Gabriel immediately dismissed the butler and paid little heed to Deborah when she took a seat on the sofa and began to pour.  Instead, he demanded, “Where did Emily go?"

             
Accepting a glass of the sherry from Chesterfield, Lady Raines took a long sip before saying, “No doubt, she came back here."

             
“On her own?" asked Gabriel, now experiencing alarm.

             
“Nor could I blame her," Jane said.  Though there was a timid quiver to her voice, her eyes held Lady Raines's with a challenging glint.

             
Gabriel turned to Miss Taber.  "What do you mean?" he asked, only to be ignored again.

             
Aunt Esmeralda sniffed into her wrinkled hanky before raising her watery eyes to lady Raines.  “She didn't come home, Lydia.  How could she when her horse is still at the inn?"

             
“Which inn?" Gabriel asked Lady Spivey

             
With a sigh, Sylvia sank gracefully down on the sofa next to her mama and declared, “Well, she certainly managed to ruin our afternoon."

             
Giving the blond beauty a pointed look, Gabriel asked, “How long has Emily been missing?"

             
Prudence, accepting a cup of tea from Deborah, added, “Surely, we would have heard if anything actually--"

             
“Enough!" Gabriel shouted, glaring at each one of the ladies in turn.  “I want answers and I want them now."

             
Leaning toward her daughter, Lady Raines arched one eyebrow.  “What is wrong with Lindemann, Sylvia?  Thought his hearing was good."

             
“It is, Mama," replied Sylvia, throwing Gabriel a disgusted look.  “It is late, and you know how sharp set men become when they miss a meal."

             
Ignoring this, Gabriel applied to Miss Taber, a sound of desperation entering his voice.  “Jane, please tell me what has happened to Emily."

             
“We do not know, my lord," Jane answered, casting her eyes toward the two women sitting on the sofa.  Since Sylvia chose to roll her china blue eyes, indicating her displeasure with Gabriel, Jane continued.  “The last anyone saw Miss Pendleton was at the inn.  She excused herself after lunch, and I thought. . .that is. . . ."