High Spirits at Harroweby (14 page)

Drat!

Suddenly, her newfound sense of deliverance clouded over with a despondency which made Selinda quite angry with hersel
f. How could she wallow in self-pity at such a time as this? Determinedly, she pulled herself from her brooding and forced herself to set about her business. Too much was at stake to cater to her own selfish ends.

The first thing Selinda did was to find her way around to the back of Harroweby House and ascertain the exact location of the pouch in which she would find Lord Waverly
’s missive at midnight. She knew quite well that such a nocturnal excursion would be regarded with suspicion should anyone notice her, and she did not wish to compound the probability of discovery by blundering about in complete darkness looking for the thing. Fortunately she was able to locate the little pouch after only a few minutes of searching through the ivy.

She had wondered whether she might write a short note of gratitude and enclose it therein, but immediately thought better of it. All of their plans would be foiled if Miss Snypish should have the least suspicion of them. Even though
that serpent had treated her with unusual civility of late, comparatively speaking, Selinda also knew that, just beneath her veneer, rested the same obdurate heart of their earlier acquaintance. She knew she dared not test it.

On her way back to the house, Selinda prepared herself to make the same journey hampered by cover of darkness. She counted the number of steps it would take for her to reach the garden wall from the door by which she would exit the house, then, through each room she must pass, and last, the number of stairs she must descend. It would not do at all, she reminded herself wryly, for her midnight excursion to be punctuated by the sounds of breaking glass and muffled oaths. This task accomplished, she repaired to her chamber to assemble such items as might be useful on the journey to Darrowdean.

That evening she shared a quiet dinner with Miss Snypish who, taking advantage of her employers’ absence, had dispensed with the services of their all-too-mediocre cook and sent out for a repast prepared by the chef at The Clarendon. Selinda was a little surprised at having been invited to partake of this extravagant treat until she recollected that, to Miss Snypish’s ostentatious notions, solitary splendor was no splendor at all.

It was a vastly different sort of meal from those to which Selinda had been accustomed of late. Although she had had little appetite for the ample but bland dishes served up by their current staff, she felt her mouth water as she regarded the richly laden table: there was a steaming ham pudding, curry of rabbit,
buttered lobster, artichoke bottoms, and vegetable tart, as well as a fruited syllabub and several custard creams. Miss Snypish had also called for a bottle of champagne from the cellar.

Knowing that she would be needing every ounce of strength in the days ahead, Selinda applied herself to the repast with unusual dedication;
however, she soon discovered that she was no match for her dinner partner. Selinda watched in silent fascination as Miss Snypish demolished plate after laden plate. Even a hollow leg would not explain that sort of capacity, she reflected with wide-eyed bewilderment.

As if reading the girl
’s thoughts. Miss Snypish commented briefly, “I believe I should do much better if my form were a trifle more filled out.”

Selinda, refraining from any sort of appraisal of the companion
’s sparsely set bones, quietly allowed that such a repast as this evening’s would very likely be efficacious toward that end.

“
That is quite what I thought,” Miss Snypish pronounced, availing herself, much to Selinda’s disbelief, to another helping of the artichoke bottoms. This she dispatched with amazing rapidity; then, wiping her chin, she slowly arose. “I shall be sleeping late in the morning, so see that you do not disturb me.” With that, Miss Snypish exited the dining room and made her way to her chamber where she looked forward to applying a generous amount of oil of talc to her sallow complexion.

Selinda still had several hours to wait before she could venture out into the garden to find Waverly
’s message, but she dared not allow herself to fall asleep for fear of missing the appointed hour altogether. Taking a branch of candles from the sideboard, she repaired to the library in hopes of finding a book in which she might immerse herself until that time. Oddly enough, for all her troubles, she found her mind returning from time to time to the little novel she and Lucy had been reading just last week. It must still be in Lord Waverly’s possession. Ah, the romantic travails of Rosamonde and Roderick! How, she wondered, had it all turned out?

Because of Prudence
’s penurious habits, Selinda found the library almost unbearably chilly, and she immediately set about kindling a small fire. There were already several partially burned fagots which would serve as a good foundation, and she knelt to add a few more pieces of firewood. In among the logs, there were also several charred pieces of paper, and, as she reached her taper in to reignite them, she suddenly stopped as she recognized Prudence’s spidery hand. Carefully she drew the pages out one by one and spread them before her on the hearth. Some of these, she was interested to see, were still quite legible.

After a few moments, Selinda sat back on her knees and bit her lower lip. Unfortunately the greater part of the documents appeared to be in some sort of code; even though she could read individual words, li
ttle of it made any sense. Holding up her branch of candles, she examined each piece of paper again. All at once her eye was captured by one page in particular. On it she could clearly read her sister’s name.

Holding back her excitement, she carefully carried the page over to the desk where she could more easily examine it. Although roughly half of the page had been destroyed and much of what remained had been crossed out, Selinda was able to decipher enough to determine that the document was a draft of a letter to Mr. Basham. For the most part, the message appeared to consist primarily of details concerning the remove to Darrowdean, the status of the sale, and the woman
’s sudden decision to bring the younger of the Harroweby sisters along with her. Suddenly, Selinda’s eye was caught by a partial phrase, “.. . then dispose of the chi...” Immediately, her heart began to pound with fear, for she could only believe the last word must have been
child.

What in God
’s name must possess the woman? Selinda raged inwardly. Neither she nor Lucy had done anything to harm Prudence, yet she planned not only to rob them blind but threaten their safety as well. Forcefully, it came to Selinda that she must not wait a moment to act. She was to check the pouch for Waverly’s message at midnight, but she knew he must deliver it some time after darkness had fallen. If only he had not yet come by, she prayed, she might be able to catch him.

Carefully, she folded the partial letter and tucked it into her sleeve. Then she swept the rest of the charred papers back into the fireplace. She silently peeped out of the library door into the long, dim corridor. No one was about. Stepping from the room and shutting the door behind her, she then noiselessly made her way up the stairs and through the halls to her chamber, her heart beating with apprehension. Once there, she quickly donned a heavy wool cloak and changed from her worn slippers to sturdier shoes, for it was altogether possible that she might have a long wait in the cold darkness. Then she transferred the charred fragment of letter to her reticule and silently made her way out.

The house was still as she opened the door to the garden, and the moonless night, damp with threatening rain, offered only the comfort of concealment. Holding her breath and carefully counting her steps, arms stretched out a little way before her, Selinda slowly approached the vine-covered pillars. The path seemed rougher than it had in the daylight, and it felt as if a long time had passed before she finally attained her goal. As her hands traced the line of the pillar, they finally found the little opening in which Lord Waverly’s pouch had been secreted. Heart pounding, she opened the clasp. It was empty.

All would be well, she thought, allowing herself to breathe again. Lord Waverly had not yet arrived. When he did, she could tell him of her frightening discovery. He would know just what to do. In the darkness she shivered, wrapped the cloak more tightly about herself, and dropping to her knees, she leaned back against the pillar to wait.

Whether Selinda had been awakened by the rain that was just beginning to fall or the sounds of footsteps near her in the darkness, she did not at first know. It took her a moment to pull herself from the sluggishness of sleep and realize where she was and why she felt so achey and miserable. Then she remembered.

“Lord Waverly?” she whispered tentatively.

There was a momentary hesitation and then a long sigh was audible to Selinda
’s ears. In the silence that followed, Selinda’s heart began to pound as she realized she had, in all likelihood, spoken too soon. After all, who knew what sort of men (and how many of them!) loitered about in the darkness of such black nights as this. Anything might happen to her, and no one would be the wiser.

“
I am Richard, Lord Waverly’s man,” a superior voice cut through the darkness at last. Sliding back the shutter of his dark lantern a mere fraction of an inch so that only a slender beam of light escaped, the footman looked down disdainfully at Selinda’s huddled and shivering form. “I had understood I was to convey this note to a
pouch,
not a
person.”

These words were delivered in tones of such icy disdain that Selinda was hard-pressed to gather her courage. Nevertheless, her situation was desperate. She swallowed hard and summoned her determination.

“You must take me to Lord Waverly at once,” she told him quickly. “We have not a moment to lose.”

Well, this was really beyond anything, Richard told himself. It was bad enough to be sent out into the damp and dark as if he were a mere errand boy, but he certainly was not in the habit of conveying females to his Lordship. He was paid far too much to stoop to that sort of thing. The lady
’s voice, however, told him she was quality, and he dared not disobey. He had witnessed his master’s anger on only one other occasion (some silliness about the beating of a horse) but he preferred not to witness it again. Leading the way into the darkness and ungraciously forcing the lady to all but run to keep up with his stride, Richard once again considered the advantages of seeking employment elsewhere.

It was not more than a mile to Lord Waverly
’s residence, but the combined effects of rain falling ever more heavily, a rising wind, and the slippery cobblestones rendered Selinda even more cold and miserable than she had been during her vigil. Half an hour later, Richard was glad to deposit the now-sodden girl in his master’s front hallway like a bundle of wet wash. Most of the lights had been extinguished, but the sounds of pacing issuing from Waverly’s library bespoke that gentleman’s anxiety as he awaited his servant’s return. Richard left Selinda for a moment, scratched on the library door, and announced in his most contemptuous manner, “A
person
wishes to see you, my lord.”

A bare moment later, Selinda found herself being borne in strong arms to the library, deposited carefully on a sofa in front of a roaring fire, and her wrists chafed by anxious hands. She blinked away the raindrops from her eyelashes and encountered the grave face of Lord Waverly.

“Some blankets, Richard, and be smart about it,” Waverly commanded in a terrible voice. He had been struck to the core when he saw Selinda’s pitiful form leaning against a wall for support in his own entryway. What a fool he’d been to send that useless Richard on so delicate a mission. Wretchedly, he looked into Selinda’s pale face as a wave of guilt and apprehension washed over him.

Richard, daunted by his master
’s wrathful tone, quickly returned bearing an armful of blankets. Waverly had by now removed his own cravat and was wiping rain from the girl’s face with it. He knew that she must eventually get out of those wet clothes, but, for now, she needed to be kept warm. Without ceremony, he relieved the footman of his burden and arranged the blankets over her, tucking them in well. This task accomplished, he turned and addressed the man.

“
Well, Richard,” he pronounced with a controlled iciness, “you may now explain why a hackney was not engaged.”

Richard
’s chin tilted up just a fraction, and he held his employer’s eye a moment before looking away. “It did not appear seemly to me, my lord,” was his reply.

“
And criminal negligence is more seemly? Idiot!” Waverly turned back to Selinda, who now, at least, was shivering less violently than before. Controlling himself with an effort, he continued, “Rouse Mrs. Fortnum and have a hot bath prepared in the blue room. Then you will wait until I call for you again.”

By now Selinda had recovered sufficiently to look about her. Of all the rooms to which she might have been shown, the library spoke most compellingly of Lord Waverly
’s personality and tastes. Certainly, it bespoke comfort with its rich paneling and deep cushioned chairs and sofas. This was a room for living, not for show. Unlike many libraries, it actually looked as if it were used for reading. Many volumes, in fact, lay open on tables or were piled haphazardly about the room. Much to her chagrin, she noticed that one of these was the romance which had come into Lord Waverly’s possession that fateful day—it must have been a hundred years ago! Catching the direction of her gaze, Waverly put the volume into her hand and quietly smiled down at her.

He said nothing of it (although Selinda was torn between wishing and dreading that he might) but poured a glass of brandy and brought it to her.
“Try drinking some of this, Lady Selinda,” he told her, his expression carefully unreadable as he looked at her. She had forgotten how very blue his eyes were. “It will make you feel a little warmer, you see.”

Obediently, Selinda took a small sip, raised her eyebrows, and shook her head a little as she pulled back.

“I know it is not what you are accustomed to, Lady Selinda—I remember how you quite lost your heart to champagne—but you must take one more sip. Please. Then I shall allow you to tell me what brings you to risk your well-being on such a night as this. There, now.”

Selinda swallowed once more and realized that this second taste was not nearly so bad as the first had been. She sipped again and felt the warmth course through her. Then, taking a deep breath, she began without preamble.
“It’s Lucy. I fear she is in even greater danger than I had ever imagined. We must set out directly to find her, sir.”

Another gentleman might well have discounted the look of apprehension which overcast Selinda
’s features, might have chalked it up to female excitability or hyperbole.

“
Tell me,” was all Lord Waverly said.

By
way of reply, Selinda pulled the remains of the charred letter from her reticule and watched breathlessly as the gentleman’s features gradually became as grave as her own.

“
I am afraid you may have the right of it, Lady Selinda,” he said at last. “I shall go at once.”

“
And I shall go with you,” Selinda told him resolutely. It was not a question.

“
Lady Selinda...” he began hesitantly, as he took her hand in his and knelt beside her. Aside from concerns about her physical well-being after such a harrowing night, Lord Waverly had no objections to her accompanying him. In fact, he could think of nothing he would like better. However, he decided, it was high time he attempted to curb his eccentric outlook and have a care for the reputation of others. Richard’s obvious conclusions about the nature of Selinda’s visit had not been lost on him. He did not care one jot for the malicious whispering of the cats of the
ton,
but he knew he must protect Selinda. Silently, he cursed himself for a fool for ever suggesting that she might join him in his attempt to rescue Lucy. It was just that he had never been used to considering such matters before.

“
Do not think to dissuade me,” Selinda broke in on his deliberations. Seeking valiantly to suppress her shivers, she went on, “Oh, I know what you will say, and you are right in part. I am tired and cold and wet and very much distressed. But I shall be more than distressed if I am left behind; I shall be
distracted
if I am treated like a useless female. Now, I think we might just as well wait until it is light, for we shall need to get some rest if we are to be of use to anyone. By then my things will be dry. I believe the roads will be quite muddy, so we had best ride, don’t you think? Have you such a thing as a sidesaddle about?”

When Selinda had finished her hurried little speech, she bit her lower lip and there rested in her eyes such a hopeful expression that Lord Waverly was, for a moment, quite unable to pronounce the objections which he had been formulating. After a time, however, he smiled,
“My Lady Selinda, I know you are quite in earnest, but I feel enough of a rattle for having let Lucy down in this way. I will not on top of everything else be responsible for your becoming ill or—”

“
But Lord Waverly,” she interrupted him with a small smile, “you can have no notion of my constitution. I have never been sick a day in all my life and, even should I contract some chill or other, I do not imagine I shall die from it. On the other hand, should you be so rash as to leave me behind, I must give you fair warning—I shall somehow contrive to follow you on my own, and
that
would be far more disastrous. As for other considerations, they are my concern, not yours. I pray you do not think of them.”

But Lord Waverly did think of them with unaccustomed dedication, and it did his newfound sense of propriety little credit that its preachments were punctuated with visions of taking Selinda once more int
o his arms and kissing her thoroughly.

Selinda
’s mind was similarly occupied. Why, she fretted inwardly, must she wait to be kissed? What would happen, she wondered, it she just reached her hand out and traced the line of his jaw? Or pulled his hand to her cheek? Just to let him know that this endeavor was one they shared together?

Tentatively, she drew her hand out from under the blanket. He caught it in his and held it. Well..
.that was...acceptable. She frowned inwardly, suspecting that what she really wanted was to live her dream of the previous night. But, was that so bad? After all, she loved him. And the brandy had warmed her so delightfully. And he was so handsome. Well, then. She
would
kiss him.

She leaned in toward him just a fraction further. He smiled slowly and began to lower his face to hers. Just then, an insistent miaow broke the silence and a round orange kitten nimbly hopped up between them and began purring loudly about Selinda
’s face.

“
Well!” she exclaimed with a short laugh as they drew apart. “Who’s your fat friend?”

“
You may well ask!” he replied ruefully, picking up the kitten and staring into its bright blue eyes. “This cream-swilling fellow doesn’t seem to know where he’s not wanted. Well, my lord Cat, you’d best make yourself scarce or I shall take you along on tomorrow’s adventure for your meddling!”

It was a very good thing the kitten had insinuated itself when it did, Lord Waverly frowned to himself. A very good thing indeed. Selinda
’s eyes looked very large and her hair had begun to dry in soft ringlets about her face. If he had kissed her, he did not know where it might have ended. After all, there was no congregation to repress their passions this time, nor did he think, were any of the servants likely to enter without being summoned. Sternly pulling himself from Selinda’s charms. Lord. Waverly delivered her forthwith to Mrs. Fortnum’s efficient care. As he retired to his own chamber, his imagination was full of visions of rapturous embraces, diminished only by the remonstrances of his conscience. Long into the night and early hours, he stared into the darkness waiting for sleep or morning—whichever came first.

* * * *

Elsewhere on that dark and wretched night, Lucy and the rest of her party were as badly soaked as Selinda. In consequence of Prudence’s having enjoined the driver to take them one village farther than had been planned in hopes of securing a room at less exorbitant cost, they had been caught in a powerful downpour. Almost immediately the wheels of their conveyance had become securely mired in several inches of sticky mud at a low spot in the road. While Rupert, Prudence, and the hapless coachman railed against their predicament and each other, Lucy stuck her head out the window and looked about. It was a desolate stretch of road.

It took several minutes before Prudence had exhausted her store of invectives and set her mind to deciding just what was to be done. Come what may, she was not about to spend the night in a damp coach.

“Well,” she snapped poisonously at her son, “don’t just sit there like a great slowtop. Get out and push.”

“
Wouldn’t serve at all, Mater,” he told her without budging. “If four horses cannot move the cursed thing, I hardly think my efforts would signify.”

“
Possibly not,” his mother told him crushingly, “but the elimination of fifteen stone might.”

More than usually sensitive about his weight since his horrifying nightmare, Rupert was in no mood to take this criticism without some sort of retaliation.
“Perhaps,” he spat, “you will join me outside the carriage, then, Mater. Where the loss of fifteen stone is a boon, will not thirty be a benediction?”