Wiles of a Stranger (20 page)

“You’ll have her watched, surreptitiously, to let Beaudel see she is involved?”

“Something like that. I haven’t got all the details worked out. First I have to buy the remainder of the collection. I meant to explain all this to you tonight, at our tryst. I would have done so sooner, but events moved rather rapidly, after we both realized in the meadow that it was to be a kidnapping, and not theft pure and simple. I had to see Mills and coerce him to claim that a perfect jewel—wasn’t it a beauty?—was a fake. There wasn’t time, or later, opportunity, to tell you what I was about. You forgive me?”

“We’ll make a deal.”

“But of course I forgive you for thinking me a murderer, and for that ludicrous attempt to take French leave.”

“Too kind, but that’s not the deal. Tell me who you are.”

“You can consider me a guardian angel, in disguise.”

“An excellent disguise. I never saw an angel in a black beard and moustache before.”

“How do they usually look, when you see them?”

“Blond and blue eyed,” I answered gravely.

“That has been my experience also. I am going to the inn to speak to Mills. He will be with me tomorrow to look at the Indian collection. Can I trust you to remain here, till I come back?”

“Certainly not. I’m going with you as far as the Park.”

“The Park is not exactly on my way to Chelmsford.”

“You will be happy for my help at the Park. It’s not that far out of your way.”

“I would rest easier knowing you are here, safe. Anything could happen tomorrow. There might, in the worst case, be gunshots.”

“Then I should be there, to protect Lucien.”

“Hmm, and I will be there to protect you, so I think I’ll let you return, but do be careful.”

When I was allowed to go back, I took it for proof Morrison was, if not an angel, at least on their side, but was still curious to know his identity. My gaze happened to fall on the newspaper with foreign writing. “What country is this from?” I asked, holding it up.

“India,” he answered, then looked a trifle disconcerted. “We develop a dark tan in India, as you may have noticed.”

“I seem to remember Beaudel mentioning Sacheverel had a son there.”

He hunched his shoulders disparagingly. “A younger son. In fact, the baby of the family. I am not Papa’s heir, alas. All that will go to my elder brother, but I have enough blunt to support an undemanding wife.”

“I am sure that’s the only sort who would ever marry you. Shall we go?”

A loudish laugh rang out. “Let’s, before my patience breaks.”

I went back in his carriage with him, the groom returning my gig behind us. “How did you get my father to go along with that story that the diamond was glass?”

“He knows the whole story. Finding the real thief will free him.”

“What if this strategy doesn’t work, Major?”

“Bertie is the name. If this doesn’t work, then we’ll come up with another stunt. I have dozens of ideas. Not to worry.”

“If worst comes to worst, you can always try your charms on Stella again.”

“Not an entirely unappetizing suggestion. She’s a pretty thing, but not bright. It would serve her well if she put herself to ransom and Beaudel didn’t buy her back. There would be a pretty pickle. If he had any wits, he’d pay the hussy to stay away, but when December mates with May, there is no saying what weather will ensue.”

“You’d better tell me the whole plan. Is that the idea, that you let her be kidnapped, and not pay to get her back?”

“That is up to Beaudel. We have to let him see with his own eyes that she is being voluntarily abducted. I have some hopes Wiggins will drag a ladder to her window, and she leap into his arms. It will be impossible for Beaudel to refute such evidence as that. Then we’ll sit tight and wait for the ransom note.”

“I wonder where he plans to take her—what place it was they had the Cantors hire. I wonder if she ever means to come back at all, after he pays.”

“We may never have the satisfaction of knowing that, as they won’t get the money.”

“Will you have the law on hand, to witness the whole?”

“If my man in London is on his toes, there should be one of Townsend’s boys at the inn waiting for me. I told him to send a Bow Street Runner along. I’ll have to arrange some device for having him at the Park tomorrow. We can always use another authenticator of gems, if our imagination fails us. Or let on Sacheverel sent a footman to the house with some message or other. A very confidential letter from the old boy himself might account for a private messenger. Papa may have heard unsettling rumors, and be writing to question Beaudel.”

“Poor Mr. Beaudel. It will be enough to give him a stroke. He wasn’t far from it this afternoon.”

“I felt badly to upset him so, but it is necessary to our success that he be sufficiently upset to turn against Madam Wife.”

He had the carriage stopped at the edge of the main road, and walked with me up the walk, to prevent the sound of carriage wheels being heard in the house.

“How will you get inside?” he asked.

“By the kitchen door. It’s nearly three hours since I left. I don’t know what excuse to use, to explain my long absence.”

“Where did you say you were going?”

“To town, to pick up something. I didn’t say what.”

“They’ll think it was a young man. Let them. A stranger to the area, you took the wrong turn and went a few miles along the road, before discovering your error.”

“I hope the gig is not far behind us. I can’t go in without it.”

“It can’t be far behind. We set a slow pace. I wanted to have you all to myself for a while. Not that we took much advantage of the privacy. I think I hear Dobbin coming down the lane now.”

When the gig caught up to us, I got in to take it around to the stable. “Come to our trysting window to let me know you got in without getting your ears boxed,” he said.

“It won’t be for a few minutes. I’ll have to talk to cook for a while.”

“See if she has anything of interest to tell us while you’re at it. About what the Beaudels are up to, I mean, and the handsome butler.”

Cook eyed me with the liveliest suspicion when I entered the kitchen. I asked if the Beaudels had been looking for me, and she said no.

“I’ll go up and see that Lucien is settled in comfortably,” I said, eager to get away before she started any hard questioning.

Tess was just coming down from the servants’ quarters when I got upstairs. She assured me Lucien had gone to bed without any trouble. “The Beaudels didn’t ask you about me?” I checked.

“Not they. They were downstairs billing and cooing till an hour ago, then they came up—together. They’re in his room now. He looks like death in a jacket, but she’s trying to cheer him up. I’m surprised she’d bother.”

“Where’s Wiggins?” I asked.

She smiled slyly. “Didn’t he come home with you? We know you were with him, Miss Stacey. The two of you darting out ten minutes apart, with no explanation. You’re a fast worker. I’ve been rolling my eyes at him any time these six months.”

I cast down my eyes in a maidenly way, to encourage her along this line of thinking. I now had two choice bits of information for my accomplice. Before I went to the door to him, I went into my room for a moment. I was exhausted from the exertions of the day. I was also very hungry, and still worried about my father. It also occurred to me that the son, even the youngest son, of Lord Sacheverel would have no serious interest in a merchant’s daughter. He enjoyed romance and melodrama, the theatrical gesture, but I must not let my head be turned. When he had finished his business here, he would go back to his father’s castle, and I to my father’s hired rooms on Upper Grosvenor Square.

A quick glance at the reflection in the mirror did little to renew my confidence. I looked as hagged as he had told me I looked. I braced myself for one final exertion before the day was done. He was waiting at the door.

“You made it. Good. Any trouble?” he asked.

“None. Wiggins accidentally provided me with an excuse. They think I was with him. I wonder where he really was.”

“Conspiring with the Cantors, perhaps.”

“Stella has spent the evening reinstalling herself in Beaudel’s good graces, so he’ll be sure to ransom her. She’s with him now, in his bedchamber.”

“Have you been peeking in keyholes, Anna?” he asked, laughing.

“Certainly not. Tess told me. Servants all keep an eye on their master and mistress.”

“We must remember that. One doesn’t want his servants keeping too close an eye on him. We’ll stuff the keyholes with sealing wax.

“I assure you that won’t be necessary,” I said, shocked at his free talk, and too tired to find it amusing.

“That’s what you think. I don’t want any chits of servants spying on us. Puts ideas into their heads. They’re hard enough to keep in line as it is. Of course we won’t have so handsome a butler as Wiggins.”

“We’re not—”

“No, we’re not, and it’s time we were. I’m already late for my appointment.” On this speech he pulled me beyond view of the door and tried to kiss me. I struggled against him, becoming angry. Gentlemen did not take this form of freedom with ladies, not ones they were serious about. He mistook my reaction for coquettishness, or modesty, and overcame my resistance. I was crushed in a passionate embrace that went on and on, until I forgot the implicit insult, the possibility of being seen by a prying servant, or any external consideration. For those moments, the world stopped at the perimeter of his arms. Inside it was a tumultuous ecstasy. He was worth the coiffeur, and the powdered nose, but they would be of no avail. Lord Bertie wasn’t serious about Diamond Dutch’s daughter. I pushed him away, and heard a hiccup, or sob, escape my bruised lips.

“Anna, what’s the matter?” he exclaimed, staring at me, puzzled.

“You—everything. I—I’m worried about my father,” I added, as an excuse for my condition.

He closed his arms around me, but gently, soothingly.

“Poor girl, you have been through the mill. And I haven’t helped either, have I? I didn’t mean to vex you so.”

I swallowed down my feelings, willed them to abeyance, until he was gone. “I’m overwrought. I have to get to bed.”

“And I have to leave you—again. It becomes harder to do each time I’m with you.
Au revoir
.”

“As they say in Paris,” I added sarcastically.

“Actually I haven’t been to Paris yet. Nice spot for a honeymoon, I should think. Happy dreams.” He waved a kiss. “By the bye, did I remember to tell you what I found out?”

“What’s that?”

“What we were discussing the other day, about kerseymere. It has nothing to do with Kersey, but is a corruption of cassimere. I told you I would look into it. Ah good, you are smiling. That’s how I like to leave you.”

Chapter Fifteen

After a disturbed, unsatisfactory sleep, I awoke next morning to be greeted by dull gray skies. There was no unusual bustle of activity going on at Glanbury Park. Lucien and I breakfasted in the nursery, as usual.

“Is anything interesting happening downstairs?” I asked Tess, when she brought the tray.

“Missing your beau, are you, Miss Stacey?” she answered with a pert smile. “You’ll be happy to hear Wiggins is sitting in the kitchen polishing silver, looking every bit as blue as you do yourself. Where did you two go last night?”

“I didn’t say I was with Wiggins,” I answered primly.

“No, and didn’t say he came in the back door not ten minutes after you either, but I have eyes in my head. I can see a romance going on underneath my very nose.

She tossed her saucy head and left. As I ate, it occurred to me that unless the weather cleared, I would not be able to see Bertie, whom I could not think of as anyone but the major, in the meadow that day. Depending on the hour he was to come to the Park, he might not be at our usual assignation, which cast a cloud over my breakfast. When Tess came to remove the tray, she was smiling.

“Wait till you see the caller just arrived,” she exclaimed. “I may not bother trying to steal Wiggins from you. I think I like Sacheverel’s messenger better. Not nearly so handsome, but more gallant, I think. He’ll be coming up to see Master Lucien. He has a present for you, lad.”

I felt Morrison had arranged the present to allow the Bow Street Runner an excuse to speak to myself, and was highly curious to hear what he had to say.

When a young man dressed in dark green livery entered the room, I was surprised, though of course some disguise was necessary.

“Mullins, from Danely Hall,” he said, bowing. He was of medium height, with a shaggy crop of reddish curls. He must have exercised some outstanding gallantry toward Tess, to have weaned her affection from the handsome Wiggins. I smiled to see how ill his livery fitted him. There was room for two of him in the jacket. It was strange to think of Major Morrison having liveried servants at his beck and call. He had not the pompous air one associates with the nobility.

“Your grandpa sent you this here gift, boy,” he said, stuffing a wrapped parcel into Lucien’s eager hands. The boy sat at the table to unwrap it, leaving me free to beckon the Runner to a corner for some private conversation.

“You are a friend of Mr. Townsend, I believe?” I asked.

“That’s it, miss. The major sent me to have a look about the premises. Have you noticed aught amiss?”

“Nothing, but I haven’t been downstairs.”

“The Mrs. is all but spooning his tea into the old fellow. It might be as good a time as any to have a look about her room.”

“What for?” I asked.

“Clues,” he answered grandly. “To find out where the place is they hired, and if she has a bit of a bag packed up.”

Without more talk, he slithered out the door, as though he hadn’t a bone in his body. He moved glidingly, like water.

After scanning the hallway for traffic, he asked me to point out her chamber. He flowed to it, and soon disappeared from sight. While awaiting his return, I went to praise Lucien’s present. It was a boxed set of animals, carved in ivory. I smiled to think of Bertie’s thoughtfulness in having brought them from India for his nephew. Lucien was busy setting out dainty elephants, tigers, horses, dogs and other specimens.