An Impossible Confession (21 page)

‘Margaret told me you were attempting to shift the blame onto Ralph.’

‘Because the blame
is
Ralph’s!’ she cried, her fists clenching with helpless frustration. The tears were wet on her cheeks now.
‘Please, Gregory, look at me and know I’m not lying!’

‘I look at you, and see a woman who’s desperate to spare her lover.’

‘No!’

‘I’m not prepared to argue, Helen, my mind is made up on the matter. Drummond and I will face each other at dawn, and in the meantime you will remain in this room. It is my intention to remove you from the gossip that’s bound to result from the duel, whatever its outcome, and to that end I have already written to my aunt in Northumberland. You will be sent there within the week, and you’ll remain there until she judges you to be fit to try and salvage what’s left of your foolish life. By permitting him such liberties, Helen, you’ve brought ruin upon yourself, and shame upon this house.’ Turning on his heel, he walked from the room. The key turned once more, and she heard his limping steps moving away along the passage.

She sank weakly to her knees, hiding her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t. How was it possible that her harmless decision to masquerade as the widowed Mrs Brown had led to a duel at dawn between the two men she loved best in all the world? 

I
t was one o’clock by her watch, and Helen paced restlessly up and down in her room, trying to think of a solution to this most dire of problems yet. She had only four hours in which to somehow stop the duel; but how? If only she could think of
something
, but she was so distracted she couldn’t even think why Adam had virtually invited the duel. He had only to have shown Gregory the letter Ralph had written to him for all thought of fighting over her honor to be dropped. Gregory could hardly have pressed for a meeting at dawn over a woman who’d
apparently
forfeited all claim to any honor. Instead, Adam had allowed Gregory to think she’d been seduced, or was in the process of being seduced, and that had been the signal for the duel to become a certainty. She’d like to have thought Adam’s action had been a gentlemanly gesture in order to salvage what remained of her good name, but as she continued to pace up and down, she began to realize that that wasn’t the case at all; the cause of this duel went beyond anything to do with her, it went back to the business of Prince Agamemnon the year before. The simmering bitterness of the past twelve months lay behind this confrontation, not the question of her virtue.

Her pacing halted suddenly. Yes, this was all really to do with what had been done to Prince Agamemnon, and if it could only be proved that Adam had had nothing to do with it, then surely Gregory would retract, especially if she told the whole truth about how she’d conducted herself since the moment she left Cheltenham. There was no point in attempting to carry out the second item if the first hadn’t been accomplished, for unless Margaret and Gregory understood and accepted that Adam’s
conduct had been exemplary during the racing scandal, then they wouldn’t be prepared to believe his behavior had been similarly exemplary where she was concerned.
She
was the one whose conduct was questionable, and now the onus was on her to do all she possibly could to stop a duel that had been brought about by misunderstanding.

She began to pace again. She bore a share of the guilt, for she’d lied to Adam, but by far the greatest responsibility for all that had happened lay with Ralph St John. If anyone should pay a price, it should be he! Oh, if only she had a trump as compelling and sure as his father had had, something that would force Ralph to confess his many sins.

For the second time her agitated pacing stopped, for suddenly the solution was crystal clear in her mind; she did have a trump, she had the very same trump! St John Senior’s words came back to her. ‘
If I hear of anything else he’s done, I’ll disinherit him anyway, for I cannot and will not endure behavior as disgraceful as his
….’ At the ball, she’d declined to tell Ralph’s father everything because she’d wanted to spare the old man’s feelings, but lives were at stake now, and such fine sentiments had to be discarded. The threat of disinheritance had proved more than a little effective when first applied, and she saw no reason why it shouldn’t prove equally effective a second time. She could threaten to tell poor Mr St John everything his son had done, and was continuing to do, and she had no doubt that such revelations would cause Ralph to be cut off without a penny. He still had Lady Bowes-Fenton’s secret to barter with; Helen thought for a long moment and then knew that Adam’s sister would have to suffer any consequences, for it was the lesser of two evils, the other evil being the
possibility
of Adam’s death, or Gregory’s, or both. But maybe it wouldn’t come to that, for hopefully Ralph would prefer not to risk
disinheritance
.

Helen’s mind raced as she tried to consider the matter from every angle. Ralph was hardly going to confess to everything if his father was likely to find out anyway because of the instant furore, so there had to be a safeguard. Ralph and his father were
departing
before dawn for Falmouth, and so would soon be out of England, very far away from the stir that would inevitably result
from the real truth coming out, which meant as far as she was concerned that the obvious thing to demand of him was a letter, something she could take to Adam or Gregory once the journey to Falmouth had commenced, but
before
the time set for the duel. Time was of the essence in all this, for the St Johns’ departure, and the hour for the meeting in Herne’s Glade, were horridly close. She had to get to Ralph as quickly as possible, demand the letter, and, if she succeeded, get to Adam at King Henry Crescent before he set out for the dawn appointment.

She drew a long breath, exhaling very slowly as she tried to think if there was any other way of stopping the duel. There was the possibility of reporting it to the authorities, but that would merely postpone the matter, for the challenge would remain, and the two men would merely meet at another time and place, and by then Ralph would be well gone. No, she had to get to Ralph now. If she could pull it off, it would be poetic justice, with a vengeance. But how was she going to accomplish it? She was locked up here in her room at Bourne End, and he was six miles away at the Golden Key in Windsor. She glanced at her watch again. Time was ticking inexorably away. She had to get out of here, get to Windsor, and confront Ralph; six miles, but it might as well have been six hundred.

She hurried out onto the balcony, peering over the edge. Everything was very dark, for the moon was behind clouds. A light breeze stirred the leaves of the climbing plants twining up the columns supporting the balcony, but as she looked hopefully at them, she knew straightaway that the branches weren’t sturdy enough to hold her. Her glance moved toward the end of the house, and the way to the stables. Even if she got down from the balcony, she had to saddle a horse and ride away, something she could hardly hope to do without detection. Her eyes brightened then, for although
she
couldn’t saddle a horse or take a carriage, Peter could!

Gathering her skirts, Helen hurried back into the room,
crossing
to the door and knocking urgently on it. ‘Is anyone there?’

The footman outside shifted his position. ‘Er, yes, miss, it’s Luke.’

‘Luke, I need my maid.’

‘I don’t know, miss….’ he began doubtfully.

‘Surely I’m not to be denied my maid as well as my freedom? Send her to me at once, Luke.’ She spoke authoritatively, but her fingers were crossed.

For a moment there was silence, then the footman cleared his throat. ‘Very well, miss, I’ll go directly.’

‘Thank you.’

She breathed out with relief as she heard him hurrying away. A glance at her watch showed that the time had moved on to half past one. Oh, hurry, Mary, please hurry! It seemed an age before she heard the maid’s light footsteps hurrying toward the door. The key turned in the lock, and Luke’s voice spoke warningly. ‘I don’t know if I’m supposed to do this, Mary Caldwell, so just you see you don’t do anything we might both regret.’

‘All right, Luke Harding, don’t be such a misery.’ Mary came in a little crossly, darting a dark glance back at the footman before the door closed again and the key turned.

Turing to her mistress, Mary’s face changed to one of
shamefaced
regret. ‘I’m so sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to tell on you, but the master was so angry, I got frightened and….’

Helen went to her, taking her hands. ‘It’s all right, Mary, I don’t blame you.’

Tears filled the maid’s eyes. ‘Oh, thank you, miss.’

‘Mary, I have something very important to ask of you.’

‘Miss?’

‘I have to get out of here, and somehow reach Windsor. I need to see Mr St John.’

The maid stared at her. ‘Oh, no, miss, please don’t! You’re in trouble enough….’

‘Do you know there’s to be a duel, at dawn between Colonel Bourne and Lord Drummond?’ interrupted Helen.

‘Yes, miss. The master told Mr Morris.’

‘I must do something to stop the duel, Mary. It’s imperative that I see Mr St John before he and his father set out for Falmouth, and I need you to go to Peter and ask him to saddle a horse for me, or maybe harness a coach and drive me there himself. I know it’s asking a great deal of you both, but the alternative really doesn’t bear thinking about. I promise that it won’t put your positions in
jeopardy, for whatever the differences between myself and Mrs Bourne, she will not dismiss either of you if she knows you acted in an attempt to save the colonel’s life. Please, Mary, will you help me?’ She looked urgently into the maid’s unhappy eyes.

‘I – I don’t know, miss, Peter may not feel he can….’

‘Will you at least ask him?’

Mary was in a quandary, wanting so much to help but beset by the fear that by doing so, she might do her mistress more harm than good. At last she nodded. ‘I’ll go to him, miss.’

‘Oh, thank you, Mary! I’ll be forever grateful. But do hurry, there’s no time to waste if he’s willing to help. I have to reach Mr St John as quickly as possible, and then, if I’m successful in what I plan to do, get to Lord Drummond before be leaves for the duel.’

‘I’ll tell him, miss.’ The maid went back to the door, knocking on it. ‘Luke? I have to get a fresh pillow, Miss Fairmead has spilled water on hers.’

The key turned in the lock, and the door opened. Mary slipped quickly out, and the door closed again. The turning of the key was a horrid sound, for it brought the feeling of helplessness back.

The minutes ticked relentlessly by, and there was no sign of Mary’s return. Helen resumed her frustrated pacing. It was a
quarter
to two, then ten to, but at last she heard the maid’s footsteps.

Luke was disgruntled. ‘What took you so long?’

‘I couldn’t find the right pillow. Oh, I pity the girl you marry, Luke Harding, for you’re the most complaining ferret it’s ever been my misfortune to meet. Now open that door and let me get on with my tasks.’

The key turned again, and Mary slipped in with the fresh pillow. She waited until the door closed again before coming close to whisper. ‘It’s all planned, miss, Peter will gladly help. He says it’s safe on the roads now for Lord Swag was caught by all those gentlemen and flung into Windsor jail. Cook heard all about it tonight from a peddler.’

Relief flooded weakeningly through Helen. ‘Oh, thank God,’ she whispered.

‘Peter’s gone directly to the stables to harness up the small carriage. He says it’s too risky taking three horses….’

‘Three?’

‘I’m coming too, miss, I won’t hear of anything else. Anyway, he says the saddle horses are too close to the grooms’ quarters, but the coach horses are further from them and therefore easier to take. The small carriage is kept right at the far end of the coach house, and he’ll wait there until we arrive.’

‘But how am I going to get out?’

‘Down over the balcony. Peter says if we knot your bedsheets together….’

‘Of course, why didn’t I think of that?’ It was so simple.

Mary glanced back at the door. ‘I’ll go back out in a moment, making as if you’re going to sleep, and then I’ll come around beneath the balcony. When you climb down, I’ll take you to Peter.’

‘Mary, I don’t think you’ll ever know how grateful I am to you, and to Peter. I know I’ve no right to involve you both, but I
couldn’t
think of any other way.’

‘’We want to help, miss. I’d stand by you, no matter what, and there’s nothing Peter wouldn’t do for you, or for the colonel and Mrs Bourne. If I seemed reluctant, it was because I’m anxious for you.’

Impulsively, Helen hugged her. ‘I know, Mary. I don’t deserve an angel like you.’

Mary hesitated, and then returned the hug. ‘I could say the same, miss,’ she replied, blinking back tears and then drawing away, afraid she’d start to cry. ‘I’ll help you knot the sheets together, and then tie them firmly to the balcony rail.’

Together they dragged the sheets from the bed, attaching them with knots as firm as they could manage. Then they carried it all out onto the balcony, tying one end tightly to the wrought iron railing.

Mary straightened. ‘Don’t lower it over the edge until I come outside, miss, for someone might see it and raise the alarm. I’ll go now.’ The maid went to the door. ‘Luke? Let me out now.’

Again the key turned, and the door opened. Mary paused,
looking
back at Helen. ‘Good night, miss. Please try to sleep.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

The maid went out, and the door closed yet again.

Helen hurried to a wardrobe and took out a warm shawl. Did she need anything else? She glanced at her reflection. Her hair was
brushed loose, tumbling about her shoulders in a way that wasn’t at all proper for leaving the house, but apart from tying it back with a ribbon, there wasn’t much else she could do. It would take time to pin it up into a creditable knot, and time was the one thing she didn’t have. Searching in a drawer, she found a white ribbon, and dragging the brush through her hair once more, she tied the heavy tresses back, fluffing out the bow at the nape of her neck. Then she pulled the shawl around her shoulders, and stepped out onto the balcony.

A minute or so more passed before Mary’s shadowy figure appeared below. Helen lifted the tied sheets, lowering them carefully over the edge. Suddenly the drop seemed further than ever, and her heart began to beat more swiftly at the thought of
entrusting
herself to those hastily tied knots. Her tongue passed nervously over her dry lips, but she made herself climb onto the railing. Closing her eyes, she slowly lowered herself into the darkness, every muscle in her body trembling as she began to climb down.

It seemed a lifetime before she reached the bottom. Mary
whispered
urgently, ‘Come on, miss, someone might come at any moment.’ Catching her mistress’s hand, she moved swiftly away past the front of the house.

Their steps crunched lightly on the wide gravel area before the entrance to the stable yard, but instead of taking Helen beneath the clocktower, Mary led her on around the outside, where the perimeter wall seemed impregnable, but at last they came to a wicket gate which creaked a little as it was opened.

As they stepped through the gate and into the shadowy coach house beyond, the moon came out, throwing a clear silvery light over the house and park, and illuminating the straw-strewn cobbles on the floor.