Lady Adventuress 02 - The Education of Lord Hartley (6 page)

Cecile nodded. “And we will need a name for the
modiste
– something memorable. Madame Finette, perhaps! It was my aunt’s married name. I like the sound of it. I think that if we cultivate an air of mystery, that might win over the fashionable ladies.”

Maggie felt delighted. “Certainly. We will spread word about town that a mysterious new
modiste,
who works miracle with satin, has opened shop for a very select clientele. That will have them lining up!”

When they were too tired to continue with their needlework, the women settled into a private parlour to take their supper. Mrs Smith brought in mulled wine, meat pies and cold cuts for what had to be the best repast Maggie had ever tasted. The night before, she had been too worn out to appreciate the food, but now the delicious meal was just the thing to lift her spirits.

Seated in the cosy dining room next to a warm fire, they spoke quietly of the journey ahead before retiring to bed.

“Oh, it will be so marvellous to have a shop. To think of all the fabrics, and the trim… We shall have silks and velvets, and glass beads from Venice,” Maggie whispered when they had extinguished the candles.

It was a recipe for utter felicity: and there was only one thing missing.

If only there was some way for her see Hart again, amidst her grand success, she thought sadly. But he would be much too preoccupied with Lady Alice too spare her so much as a thought.

Maggie lay still a while after Cecile had fallen asleep, listening to the breakers and the gulls in the distance, which had replaced the raging of the storm. The sound was an absolute marvel. She had never heard the sea before and she had fallen completely in love with it from the first.

Despite her utter exhaustion, she found it very difficult to asleep. It must have been hours that she lay quietly in the dark, ensconced in her warm blankets and listening to the waves.

But she couldn’t think of Hart. Hart was impossible, and there were so many other things to occupy her attention. That, after all, was what she had wanted from her first Season: to see and do and be.

*

Captain Tom and his crew were hard at work preparing and loading the ship when Maggie and Cecile arrived at the docks. The captain was everything Maggie had expected – weathered and piraty, with bright eyes and a roguish air about him. In a word, he was utterly charming.

Maggie and Cecile stood on the pier, watching as various crates were loaded on board the
Queen Anne
, before ascending up the plank along with some other passengers. The sky hung above them in a steely canopy, but the captain seemed confident that they would not meet with a storm
en route.

Cecile looked very reluctant once the plank was withdrawn and the crew prepared to depart. She held on to the side of the ship, looking pale. She insisted she was quite hale despite this, though she gratefully accepted a cup of water from a kindly crew member.

With the practiced ease of a dance, the crew had the schooner well on her way towards France within a matter of minutes. The sea was rather rambunctious, swelled from the night’s squall, and the cold grey waves splashed over onto the deck.

Maggie watched the white cliffs grow distant with an unmistakable sense of relief. She felt a little sorry to be leaving England, but a whole new life lay ahead and her father’s men would surely lose her trail once she landed in Calais.

*

“What is all this about Maggie being missing? Tell me everything,” Hart said as he entered the room. His voice was calm, which suggested that his mind was already at work on a solution.

Frederick Dacre was in the process of pacing the private dining room on the second floor of White’s Club, his face looking uncharacteristically pale with worry. At these words, he stopped.

Frederick was unspeakably relieved to see Hart. The marquess looked dishevelled and he was still dressed in the evening clothes he’d worn the previous night. He had clearly rushed back out the minute he arrived home to discover the missive.

Frederick was not the least surprised at his friend’s brisk manner – Hart always kept his head in a crisis.

He sighed and motioned a waiter to bring Hart a glass of wine. “There isn’t anything to tell! Father tried to force her to marry Kingsley Stanhope, damn him, and I expect my sister took flight. Nasty sort of character, Stanhope. Cousin of ours. Never liked him above half, myself. It is just like Maggie to play a trick and bamboozle us all, though. Why did she not come to me? I own I haven’t the faintest notion where she may have gone. She left no word. Took her barouche and said she was off to look at lace or some such thing. It is only a blessing she took decent horses and not a pair of bone-setters! Perhaps she’s been the victim of abduction… But there has been no ransom note, and she isn’t enough of an heiress to tempt that sort of rogue.”

“That does not seem likely,” Hart agreed, a dark frown on his handsome face. “Could she have eloped?”

“What, to Gretna Green? Impossible. Not Maggie. Father thought she may have done, but that is a banbury story – there isn’t anyone for her to elope with.”

They spent some time debating the situation, trying to decide where Maggie might have gone and what was to be done about it.

“You know what a nasty way father has about him when riled.”

Lord Hartley sat at a little table, nursing a glass of wine and looking much calmer than his friend. “I have some notion, yes.”

“And he has certainly been riled. He should have known better than to try and force her – it is obvious Maggie would never have agreed to become Stanhope’s tenant for life. And bullying her just made things worse. This is a veritable disaster!”

“She took Cecile with her, and all her jewellery. She means business, mark my words, though dammed if I know what business she is about.”

It had been some eight hours since his sister had been discovered missing and four since the news came from Chenefelt. Frederick hadn’t wasted a moment in dispatching a bow street runner with a note to Hart, because the man always knew just what to do when trouble came knocking.

Frederick was very fond of his sister and the thought of her travelling all alone just about set his teeth on edge. Sweet, naive Maggie could not hope to survive on her own. He swore that he knew utter agony for every minute that passed in inaction.

“Either way, we must keep mum on the matter – if word of this were to get out, my sister would be ruined,” Frederick said decisively.

Hart nodded grimly.

“It seems to me that her flight may indeed have been deliberate, if your father really tried to bully her into matrimony with this cousin of yours!”

Fredrick was momentarily taken aback at the passion in his friend’s voice.

“You know, I think so too. What’s more, I suddenly have a nagging suspicion I know just where the girl would have gone. She’s always had a head full of fancies, Maggie. I think it very likely she may have decided to follow one such whim. Not a week ago, I overheard her conversing with Cecile on the subject of Paris. She was all moon-eyed about it, but I didn’t give it much thought then. And she’d questioned me about Paris after we returned from the Tour, remember? It would be just like Maggie to decide to see for herself – I imagine she fancies that she is having an adventure. That she will come about and land on her feet the moment she’s out of Father’s reach.”

“Hmm. To Paris… that is easy enough to determine.”

“Indeed. It may be a wild goose chase, but I think it may also be the best trail we have just right now. There is no time to lose. We must go after her. Tonight.”

Hart considered this as Frederick moved across the room to ring for his cloak.

“We cannot both go,” he said at last.

Frederick turned around to give his friend a bewildered look.

“But we must! Already she has a day’s head start.”

“That is correct. But if we both go running heedlessly in pursuit of your sister, then we won’t hear of it if some other news should come in. This is not the time to be hasty.”

“Then you propose we stay here and wait?” Frederick’s expression made it clear what he thought of such a notion.

Hart gave him a patient look, while retrieving his driving gloves from the table. “Not at all.
You
will remain here in case another runner should come.
I
shall go to France. I could have my chaise ready within the hour. You, my friend, speak barely a word of French and so could not hope to be of any help in that country.”

Frederick considered arguing before deciding that Hart had always been much better when it came to plotting and strategy, and his advice did seem sound. Hart thought of Maggie as his own sister. And Frederick could not pretend that his French was even remotely passable.

“Very well. I see that I am fated to stay here and wait – you have me brought at
Point Non Plus
.”

Frederick’s dark expression communicated just how much he hated the thought of staying behind.

“I will find her, and bring her home. I promise,” Hart said in a low voice.

*

The Strathavon house in Paris was magnificent, situated squarely on the fashionable avenue de Richelieu. Maggie could not quite believe it when she first caught sight of the elegant façade. Judging from her expression, neither could Cecile.

They hesitated a moment, unsure how to proceed.

“Well, I expect we had better knock on the door – I wonder if they really are expecting us?” Maggie said at last. She felt nervous about appearing suddenly on the front step of a strange house, without even Lady Strathavon to introduce her to the staff.

“I hope they are. There would have been time enough for them to receive word,” Cecile said, though her voice was a little hesitant.

“Then there is only one thing to do – and it’s no use sitting around here.” Maggie let Cecile hold the horses while she descended the barouche and proceeded to the front door.

She did not allow herself a moment’s hesitation before giving two brisk, precise knocks with the bronze knocker.

A footman opened the door, and a butler arrived swiftly in his wake.

“Good morning, Madame. You must be Madame la Baronne – her ladyship has written us that you are to be our new tenant. I am Duby, the butler,” the man said with the professional efficiency that was such a hallmark of the profession.

“Good morning, Duby. Yes, I am Madame de Gramont, and the lady in the barouche is my cousin, Mademoiselle Cecile Firmin.”

The footman stepped gracefully outside to hold the reins while Cecile descended and a groom arrived to take charge of the barouche.

*

After meeting the rest of the staff, the ladies took tea in the comfortable yellow parlour to which they had been directed by Duby.

“It is such a grand house!” Cecile said to Maggie quietly. “One never quite expected it to be so vast and well-appointed. I own I feel quite out of place here.”

Maggie nodded. “I feel the same. I imagine it is not easy to feel like one belongs under such tall, moulded ceilings. But we must grow accustomed, Cecile – for this is to be our world now. And we will. I just know it in my very heart than things will work out for the best.”

“To grow accustomed to luxury.” Cecile giggled and leaned back in her chair lightly. “Yes, I think that won’t be too much of a trial.”

Maggie giggled too, letting herself get lost in the levity of the moment, because these were the sorts of moments of which friendships and happy memories were made.

Refusing to waste time with sitting about, and needing to stretch their legs after the long journey, they decided to head out once they had changed into more appropriate garments.

It felt like a dream to finally be able to stroll down the avenue, feeling part of the bustling city around them. Cecile looked as delighted as Maggie felt, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sights and sounds of their new home.

“If only mama could see me now,” she breathed in awe. “I am finally here!”

“Yes, I cannot quite believe that it is real – a part of me is scared that I should wake up at any moment and find myself back in Chenefelt, awaiting cousin Kingsley.”

“Oh, no! No, this is real. I think this is the most real place I have ever been,” Cecile said. “Let us first visit the draper’s and then perhaps we ought to see about taking a shop.”

After an impromptu visit to a solicitor dealing with the letting of shops, and flustering his clerk on account of being female and very persistent that a shop was precisely what they wanted, Maggie and Cecile took the lease of a charming little establishment in the very heart of the city.

“It is a little dear,” Maggie said, “But I expect we will make it up very soon. We must set it in order as soon as we may, and then display some of our most recent gowns in the window.”

There would be time to take in the sights of Paris later, she reminded herself as she felt her spirit reaching out longingly towards the bustling streets. Cecile wrote out a list of everything that needed doing and over the next few days they systematically began to organize their shop, ordering fabrics and trim, and writing advertisements to send out to the most popular Parisian ladies’ journals.