The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love. (22 page)

Hitchins poured water from a large pitcher into the
matching basin. “Come wash your face, miss. You’ll feel
better for it and besides, it won’t do to show Mr. Stafford
those reddened eyes.”

“You are right, of course,” said Thea dully. She washed
her face, and at her maid’s urging changed her gown as well.
The maid insisted on brushing out Thea’s hair, too, before
she was satisfied with her mistress’s appearance.

Thea went downstairs. She found her father and brothers
in the parlor with her aunt and uncle. Mr. Stafford and Philip
and Thomas were attired for travel in their greatcoats and mufflers and gloves.

“Ah, here is Thea now. I was just remarking that you
must have been very tired to have fallen into such a deep
sleep for these past two hours,” said Mr. Stafford, wrapping
one arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him in a fond embrace.

Thea managed to smile as she emerged from her father’s rare display of affection. She had no desire for her father to
question further into her affairs. “I was merely tired, Papa.
It has been a fatiguing several days, you know.”

Fortunately, Mr. Stafford was never very perceptive and
he accepted her explanation without question. “Well, you
must build up your strength as soon as may be, for I suspect
that your aunt has many entertainments in mind,” he said
with a chuckle.

“Indeed I do, Carter. I hope to introduce Thea into all of
the best circles.” said Mrs. Owen. Her quick gaze took in at
once the subdued expression in her niece’s eyes. She turned to her nephews and held out her hand to each of them, say
ing, “I am glad to have had the opportunity to renew my ac
quaintance with you, Philip, and with you also, Thomas.
You must come to visit again, perhaps when the hunting is good.”

The two brothers enthusiastically assured their aunt of
their complete willingness to comply with her invitation.
Mr. Owen also took leave of the young gentlemen, before he
turned to his brother-in-law. “I shall take good care of Thea, Stafford.”

“I am confident of it, Owen,” said Mr. Stafford.

The exchange between them was bereft of most of the
former animosity. Thea noticed, of course, but it was as
though she watched from outside herself. Nothing really
mattered at the moment but the gaping hole where her heart
used to be. Strange, how easily it had been for Lord Cardiff to take it with him, she reflected. She distantly wondered if
one could survive without such an essential organ. Certainly
she did not feel very alive at that moment.

Thea walked to the front door, accompanying her father
and brothers. With her uncle and aunt standing on either side
of her, she waved good-bye as her family got into the car
riage and the vehicle began to drive away.

When the front door was closed, Thea stood looking around her as though she was left at odd ends. “My dear
Thea, why do you not go into the parlor and practice your
music?” suggested Mrs. Owen.

Thea looked at her aunt and recognized the compassion
in that lady’s gaze. A tinge of color rose in her pale cheeks.
“Thank you, Aunt. I should like to do that, I think,” she said
quietly with a small smile.

“That is a very good notion. I shall like hearing your
playing while I am working in my study,” said Mr. Owen approvingly.

Thea smiled again. “You are kind, Uncle.” She turned to
walk quickly away towards the parlor.

That evening, Thea made an indifferent supper. She
pleaded the headache when her uncle quizzed her on it.
“Perhaps I practiced too long this afternoon,” she said in
feeble excuse.

“I wouldn’t know about that. I only know that it gave me
great pleasure to listen to you play, Thea,” said Mr. Owen. He
turned to his spouse. “My dear, I believe I have had an in
spired notion. Why do we not sponsor a musicale one evening
in London? I am positive that our friends and acquaintances
will derive just as much pleasure as I do from our niece’s per
formance on the pianoforte.”

“I like the idea very much, Thatcher,” said Mrs. Owen.
She glanced at her niece’s unresponsive face. “Let me give it some thought, for I shall wish everything to go off just as it ought.”

Mr. Owen was satisfied with his wife’s agreement, and
while he finished eating dinner he waxed eloquent about the
treats in store for his niece in London. In particular, he extolled the city itself. “The metropolis is a place quite unlike
anywhere you have ever been, Thea. It is so big and crowded,
and the streets will be filled with so many carriages and carts
and horses that you will be utterly amazed.”

Thea felt that some response was required of her, even
though she could hardly drum up any curiosity concerning a
destination that had once seemed like the answer to her
prayers. “Oh, dear. I hope that I shall not feel lost in such a
crowded place.”

“Pray do not be anxious, dear Thea. Your uncle and I are
quite capable of steering you safely through a London sea
son. We shall soon have you feeling quite at home,” said
Mrs. Owen reassuringly.

Thea bestowed an abstracted smile on her aunt. “I am cer
tain of that, ma’am. You and my uncle have been more than
kindness itself. Will you mind it terribly if I excused myself
early and went up to my bedchamber? I fear that I am not
very good company this evening since I have the headache.”

“Of course we do not mind, Thea.” said Mrs. Owen in a
quiet, soothing voice.

Thea exited, leaving the Owens to exchange a long look
with one another. Mr. Owen frowned as his gaze traveled
back to the door which his niece had just closed behind her
retreating form.

“What ails the girl? She has been listless all day, quite unlike her vivacious style yesterday evening. Is Thea sickening
for something?” asked Mr. Owen with a worried expression.

Mrs. Owen gave a small, fatalistic shrug. “I believe Thea
is moping over Lord Cardiff’s leaving us. His lordship made
a remarkable impression on her in a very short time. I fear that Thea’s heart is engaged, Thatcher.”

Mr. Owen frowned again, the lines in his face deepening.
“That’s bad, for Cardiff is not likely to try to fix his interest
with our niece. Besides, from what I gathered from his lordship in our talk yesterday, Lord Cardiff anticipates leaving
England again, quite soon. So even if he is disposed kindly
in Thea’s direction, there is still not the remotest chance that
they will meet one another again for some time. Indeed, if ever, for no one knows how long this war will last.”

Mrs. Owen nodded. “That is why I have been thinking
today that perhaps we should remove to London earlier than
planned. Thea will do better with some distraction. A long
shopping excursion and the social functions of the Little Sea
son could suit the purpose to admiration.”

Mr. Owen frowned thoughtfully over his spouse’s sugges
tion. “Perhaps you are right.” He shot a glance at his wife. “Then let us waste no time. By all means, let us remove to London,” he said decisively.

“I suspect it will be just as well to have a few months in
London before the Season’s beginning,” said Mrs. Owen in a
practical fashion. “It will enable Thea to adjust to society without it being such an overwhelming shock to her.”

“Quite true. I gave thought to that, as well,” said Mr.
Owen, nodding.

“Oh, I do hope it answers,” said Mrs. Owen with a sigh.

“It must, my dear,” said Mr. Owen with firmness. “For it
is all that we can do.”

“Yes, I know,” agreed Mrs. Owen.

“I would not be at all surprised if Lord Cardiff attends a few functions until his departure date,” said Mr. Owen. He
glanced at his wife. “It would be churlish not to send his lord
ship invitations to our own parties.”

“Just so,” agreed Mrs. Owen. Briskly, she said, “Well, there is much to be done tomorrow if we are to leave for
London before week’s end. I shall send a note at once to our
staff at the town house to alert them of our impending arrival.
How fortunate it is that I made a trip to town only a month ago, for as I recall, several of our particular friends told me that they meant to remain fixed in town. We shall therefore be able to show Thea a most enjoyable social round.”

“Quite delightful, I am sure,” said Mr. Owen. He frowned slightly. “I trust that the snow continues to hold at bay for the next day or two. Lord Cardiff was undoubtedly right about a
significant turn in the weather to be in the offing. I hope we
are not to be stuck here now that we have decided to make
the journey.”

“I shall begin the task of organizing for our immediate de
parture at first light,” promised Mrs. Owen. “If we must, we
shall leave for London with only the bare necessities.”

“Thank you, my dear. I know you will do your best,” said Mr. Owen. His frown lightened with a happy thought. “Per
haps, if things go as we hope, we shall enjoy a spring wedding.”

The butler entered to snuff the candles and bank the fire
for the night. Mrs. Owen encouraged her spouse in his
praiseworthy hopes as they left the parlor and made their way
upstairs to bed.

The following morning, when Mr. Owen announced to
Thea the change in their plans, she was mildly surprised but
she accepted the decision without demur. However, as it
began to sink into her mind, she realized that Lord Cardiff would still be in London. He could not possibly have embarked for Spain already in the short space of time since he
had left the Owen manor. Hope sprang into her breast, and
Thea threw herself so willingly into the preparations for the journey that Mr. Owen was moved to say, “See how our de
cision is already having a good effect, my dear!”

Mrs. Owen agreed and did not confide her inevitable reflections to her husband. She rather thought she had a fair
notion of what was going on in her niece’s head. Thea had no idea yet of how vast the metropolis was, nor how unlikely it
would be to simply chance upon Lord Cardiff in one of the
streets. Indeed, it was improbable that the two would en
counter one another at all unless they happened to attend the
same function. “And that is one thing that we can do for Thea,” she murmured to herself, a determined light in her
eyes. Already she was devising plans for several such elegant functions.

The Owens and Thea got off on the journey to London
without difficulty. They rode in one carriage, and another fol
lowed carrying their personal servants and the baggage. Be
fore their departure, Mrs. Owen had discharged the
chambermaid who had accompanied Thea from the inn,
sending the young woman back to her home on the stage
coach.

Tiny flakes started to fall as the carriages started out, but
Mr. Owen prophesied that the weather would not turn bad
that day. “I am vastly content, dear wife. We have gotten off in splendid time. Even if we are forced to take two or more days on the road, it will not prove arduous,” said Mr. Owen.

Lord Cardiff did not waste time on the road. He directed
his servants to return to the small inn where he had first
met Miss Stafford. He hoped that his valet was still to be
found there and was relieved to find the manservant still in
residence. He had half feared that Potter might have at
tempted to hare off in pursuit of his employer.

The stout innkeeper was delighted to receive Lord
Cardiff. His broad face creased in a wide smile. “My lord! I
am that glad to see you hale and hearty, as it were.”

“Thank you! And my man, Potter?” asked Cardiff, beginning to pull off his gloves.

“Upstairs, my lord. I shall take you to him at once.” The
innkeeper immediately led Lord Cardiff up to the bed
chamber, keeping up a running commentary. “I did all that
you requested, my lord. The physician was brought, and
after poking and prodding a bit, was very encouraging. Your
man is still weak as a cat but a game ‘un. If he hadn’t felt so
dizzied whenever he tried to lift his head, I am certain he
would have chased after to save you from those black
guards.”

“That sounds like Potter.” Cardiff swept into the parlor
and strode across it to the bedchamber. He entered the bed
chamber to discover his valet lying in the bed.

Lord Cardiff’s voice had carried and upon hearing it, the valet had tried to raise himself and there was a strained ex
pression on his face as he stared anxiously toward the door.
When his lordship stepped across the threshold, the man
servant heaved a huge sigh. “My lord!”

Cardiff stepped quickly forward to the bedside and firmly
pressed down on the valet’s shoulder. “No, don’t get up. Pot
ter! You look like death warmed over, man.”

The valet gave the ghost of a laugh and subsided on the
pillow. A formidable sticking plaster decorated one side of
his head. His face was unnaturally wan. “Yes, my lord. I
may rest easy now.”

Cardiff thoughtfully regarded the valet. There was some
color coming into the manservant’s face, and the haunted
expression that he saw when he first entered the bedchamber
had vanished from the valet’s eyes. “When you are well
enough to travel, Potter, I shall have you conveyed directly
back to London. I think you will recover faster in our own
lodging.”

“I shall recover faster now that I know you are safe, my
lord,” said Potter simply.

Cardiff once more squeezed the valet’s shoulder. “You’ve
fret yourself into flinders, fool that you are,” he said with
rough affection. He conveyed more than mere words with his gesture, and the valet obviously understood since the
man gave the slightest of nods. It had been a heroic act on
Potter’s part to intercede on Cardiff’s behalf, and his lord
ship would not forget, it.

“I shall be ready to leave this place as soon as may be, if that is your lordship’s desire,” said the valet, intensity in his
eyes and his voice.

Cardiff understood that his manservant would not willingly remain behind while he himself continued to London.
At once he made the decision to carry the valet back with
him, even though it meant a slower pace than he would nor
mally set. “Very well, Potter.” He turned to the waiting
innkeeper. “I shall have luncheon before I leave. At that time
I shall pay you whatever I owe for taking care of my valet.”

“Aye, m’lord.” The innkeeper bowed and left.

The valet sighed and closed his eyes. His former tight expression had relaxed, and even as Lord Cardiff stood watch
ing, he slept deeply.

Cardiff quietly left the bedchamber, a frown on his face. He went downstairs and had a word with his coachman be
fore returning to the parlor for his luncheon.

The innkeeper served Lord Cardiff himself, counting it as his privilege. The man told Lord Cardiff about how the con
stable had come and a complaint had been lodged against
the Staffords by himself and by the valet. “Your man looked
almost done to death, and the constable took it very seriously indeed, m’lord.”

Cardiff listened with knit brows. It seemed his departure
would be delayed yet a while until he could see the consta
ble. He had promised Miss Stafford that her brothers would
not suffer through the law for their ill-advised actions.

Cardiff therefore sent for the constable, and when the
man was ushered upstairs he talked with him for several
minutes in private. The constable consequently left, feeling
dubious and mystified by his lordship’s wishes. It was not in
his honest character to allow such lawlessness to go unpun
ished. However, he had no choice except to comply since his
lordship had withdrawn all charges.

When the valet wakened and was informed by Lord
Cardiff of his lordship’s decision, he remonstrated as stren
uously as he was able with his master. “I wish you hadn’t,
my lord. I would like to see those ruffians clapped in gaol.”

“If they had broken my head, I might have felt just the same as you do,” said Cardiff with sympathy.

“But my lord!”

“Content yourself with my safe return, Potter,” said
Cardiff firmly. “I made a promise to a lady. Now let us see about getting you out of that bed and down to the carriage.”

The valet recognized that the subject was closed, and
though he was reluctant to let it go, he did so without any
further protest. It was almost more than he could do to stand up without feeling himself to be reeling and he clutched the
bedpost for support.

“Now let our good innkeeper here lend you a strong arm.
It is time to be off,” said Cardiff cheerfully. Well aware that it would have both scandalized his valet and injured the manservant’s pride if he were to offer his own help, he had
enlisted the aid of the stocky innkeeper to guide the valet’s
tottering steps.

“Yes, my lord,” said Potter meekly.

Their progress downstairs and through the inn was nec
essarily slow since the valet could not force himself to move
at more than a snail’s pace.

When the trio reached the carriage, the valet’s appear
ance was met with shocked expressions by Lord Cardiff’s
other servants. “Mr. Potter!” exclaimed the groom. “Ye’re
all knocked up.”

“I’ll have none of your sauce, my lad,” said Potter with a
faint assumption of his old authority.

“O’ course not, Mr. Potter,” said the groom hastily.

“ ‘ere, Mr. Potter, let me help ye,” urged John Coachman.

The valet consented and the coachman solicitously took
the manservant’s weight from the innkeeper and helped Pot
ter up into the carriage.

Cardiff settled his account with the innkeeper, which left his purse very much lighter. He also got up into the carriage.
He had himself packed all of his belongings which had been
left at the inn when he was kidnapped, and a waiter had already carried out the baggage to be loaded onto the carriage.
Satisfied that he had seen to everything, Cardiff gave his coachman the order for London. As he sat back against the
squabs, he remarked, “We are back at the point from which
we started, Potter.”

“I am more glad than I can say, my lord,” said Potter wanly. The valet closed his eyes against the movement of
the carriage.

Cardiff was left to his own reflections, and they were
many and varied. A smile never quite left his face as he re
called the details of the last very strange days. He believed
it had been the most bizarre episode of his life, and he al
ready had many strange experiences to his credit.

Lord Cardiff’s own team had been recovered and now
drew the carriage with steady gait towards London. The
journey to the metropolis was swiftly accomplished by
evening, despite being made at a slower pace than was his lordship’s usual habit, since the cold had frozen the roads to
iron and there was no more snow or damp to turn what was already on the ground to slush.

Arriving at his lodgings, Cardiff gave orders for the care
of his valet. His manservant naturally protested that he
should at once resume his former duties, but Cardiff was
firm in rejecting Potter’s services. He managed to change
his attire and went out to a hotel frequented by the soldiery, where he could be assured of a decent meal and perhaps fall
into convivial company.

The clientele was sparse that evening, but Cardiff recog
nized a couple of gentlemen, soldiers like himself, and he
was invited to join them. A game of cards was proposed and
another gentleman was pressed to make a fourth.

“By the by, Cardiff, I heard there was someone looking for you,” remarked one of the gentlemen.

“Oh? Did you hear who it was?” asked Cardiff, laying
down a card. His curiosity was vaguely stirred since there were none who yet knew that he had returned to London.

The gentleman shook his head, frowning over his own discard. “No, unfortunately. However, I daresay whoever it
is will catch up with you now that you are in town.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Cardiff, dismissing the remark from his mind.

Cardiff made an early night of it, saying good night to his
acquaintances, and returned to his lodgings where he swiftly
dropped into sleep.

When he presented himself at Whitehall the following morning, he was greeted with mild curiosity because of the
few days’ delay in his return to the metropolis. Cardiff
turned aside the queries with a laughing allusion to carriage
trouble on the road. Recalling the chance remark from the
night before, he asked if there were any messages for him,
but there were none. He shrugged and decided to forget
about it. If there was indeed someone looking for him, the
word would eventually get around to him.

His report was well received and Cardiff left Whitehall,
free to pursue his plans either to drive down to Armouth to
visit his parents or perhaps to make arrangements for his re
turn to the army in Spain.

When it came right down to it, Cardiff felt a strange reluctance to leave England. He did not know whether it was
mere whimsy on his part or because he had a dislike for the
discomfort that the crossing to Spain in the gathering winter weather would entail. In any event, he decided it would be
the height of selfishness on his part to expect his valet to en
dure a rough sea crossing until poor Potter was more fully recovered from his concussion. He could leave the valet be
hind, of course, but Cardiff at once dismissed that option.
He had done too long without his manservant already. He
was not going to extend the inconvenience for weeks more.

The decision made, Cardiff returned to his lodgings and
gave orders for preparations to be made for a filial visit to
his parents at Armouth.

Potter insisted upon accompanying his lordship, and not
all of Lord Cardiff’s firmly stated wishes otherwise could
sway the valet. “I am sorry to disobey you, my lord, but I
cannot and will not let you depart to Armouth without me,” said the valet. “I have my reputation to think of, and I would
be ashamed if you were to sit down at their graces’ table in all your dirt.”

“For the last time, Potter, I have no intention of sitting down in my dirt,” said Cardiff, becoming almost impatient with his manservant. “These histrionics are not necessary, believe me. Why, you are still scarcely able to stand upright
without staggering.”

“My lord, pray do not deny me,” said Potter in a low
voice. “I failed you horribly just days ago. I cannot bear to
do so again.”

There was a short silence as Cardiff realized that to his manservant, more was at stake than professional reputation. “Potter, you did not fail me. You did as much as any man could in the circumstances. I have never voiced it, but my
thanks are in order for your fearless action,” he said.

The valet flushed. “Thank you, my lord.”

Cardiff made a show of rotating his right shoulder. “Do
you know, my shoulder is still a bit stiff. I have had the
devil’s own time getting into my coats since I have been
without you. Have you the recipe for a hot poultice? Perhaps
at Armouth it will do me good for you to quack me.”