Romantic Rebel (19 page)

“Anyone would be sweet when she is never crossed. Try refusing her something, and see how sweet she is.”

He said he would try, in a doubtful way that did not promise much success.

“Does she ever speak of Lord Ronald?” I inquired.

“Not a word. I believe she has forgotten him. She seems perfectly content to have her escorts limited to myself.”

No lady who is just discovering her powers with the opposite sex would be content with so little. She liked Geoffrey; she did not love him. That satisfied glow on her pretty face had a different cause, and I felt an alarming fear that it was Lord Ronald.

“Do you ever bump into Lord Ronald when you are driving out with Isabel?” I inquired.

“Bath is a small city. We see him about, here and there, but they are never alone. He knows Isabel likes the Crescent Gardens, and walks there to catch a glimpse of her, I suppose. I cannot help feeling sorry for the young bleater, but I never let her out of my sight.”

“Drive her somewhere else, Geoffrey,” Annie suggested. “He is probably slipping her notes or some such thing.”

Geoffrey stiffened up and informed us that Isabel was not that kind of girl. He would not listen to a word against Isabel, and Isabel would not hear a word against Lord Ronald, for I still hammered at her whenever I got the chance. It seemed all our advice was falling on deaf ears, till Geoffrey returned that evening around nine.

He came storming in with a face like a thundercloud and said, “I hope you are satisfied, Cousin. You have driven us apart.”

“What happened?” Annie demanded.

“I did as Emma suggested, and insisted on driving Isabel to the Sydney Gardens today instead of the Crescent. Now she is angry with me. She told me that if my only intention is to vex her, I need not call this evening. I called anyhow, for Lady DeGrue expected me to. Isabel sent down word that she had a fit of the megrims. Tomorrow I shall drive her to Crescent Gardens,” he added firmly.

“It is not the trees and bushes that hold such a strong fascination at the Crescent Gardens,” I pointed out.

“No, it is that jackanapes of an Etherington lurking behind them that draws her there,” Annie agreed.

Geoffrey was beginning to admit we were right. “Well, he did not get a glimpse of her today,” he retorted.

He stayed longer than usual, as he wanted an audience for his tale of unrequited love. It was a theme of some interest to me, and I soon became his sole auditor. Annie got a reprieve in the person of Arthur Pepper, who came to call only slightly less often than Geoffrey. No announcement had been made, but an agreement was certainly simmering between them. Did I think to mention that Arthur took Mr. Percival’s rooms in the Westgate Buildings and took Annie to approve them? His removing from the wrong side of the river was considered as a preliminary to the proposal of marriage.

Arthur took his leave around ten-thirty. We were just hinting Geoffrey away when flying footsteps were heard on the staircase. For some foolish reason I thought of Lord Paton, perhaps because he and Geoffrey had twice passed on the stairs. I could not imagine what was happening when I opened the door to one of Lady DeGrue’s liveried footmen, who carried a note in his hand.

“Is Mr. Nesbitt here, ma’am?” he asked, looking over my shoulder to Geoffrey.

Geoffrey dashed forward and snatched the note. “When you wasn’t at the Pelican, I figured you might be with your cousin,” the footman said. He watched with an eager face as Geoffrey read the note. Annie and I wore the same expression.

“She’s gone!” Geoffrey exclaimed. His face turned bone-white and his eyes seemed to grow black. The paper trembled in his fingers.

Annie demanded “Who?” and I asked “Isabel?” at the same moment.

The footman could no longer contain his excitement. “Packed up a pair of bandboxes and slipped out the liberry door. It wasn’t out her bedroom winder, for there was no ladder.”

“When? How long ago?” Geoffrey shouted.

“There’d be no way of knowing, would there?” was the footman’s unsatisfactory reply. “She ate her dinner at seven, and said she had a megrim. The old dame went to say good night at ten, and found a piller stuffed under the covers. She was very nearly conned, but she wanted to check the young lady for a fever, and that’s how she found Miss Bonham had tipped her the double.”

“This is Etherington’s work. I must go to Lady DeGrue at once,” Geoffrey said, and headed for the door without even picking up his curled beaver.

“The ladies are wanted as well, if you’ll have a look at the note,” the footman said. “For propriety’s sake. We wouldn’t want Miss Bonham to spend the night with just two bachelors. ‘Twould be almost worse than one.”

“Quite right,” Geoffrey said distractedly. “Get your bonnet, Emma.”

I was already flying to my bedchamber, Annie a step behind me. “I knew this would happen,” I said in exasperation. “I wonder how much of a lead they have.”

“And where they could be heading,” Annie added.

“It would be Gretna Green. Until he marries her, he cannot get his filthy paws on her money.”

We bolted downstairs at a great pace, discussing the matter as we went. “I think we ought to head straight for Gretna Green and let Annie go over to comfort Lady DeGrue,” I suggested to Geoffrey. “We don’t want Etherington to get any farther ahead than he already has.”

“Lady DeGrue might have something to help us— she might have found a note,” he parried.

Mrs. Speers came staggering out of the saloon, reeking of gin. “Is something amiss, Miss Nisbitt?” she asked.

“Nothing, thank you. We can’t stop to chat now.”

We piled into Geoffrey’s carriage and bowled along to Quiet Street. Lady DeGrue looked like death. She was wringing her hands and pacing to and fro in the gloomy old Gold Saloon, blaming herself for everything.

“I should have gone up to her sooner. It is all my fault. I left the poor child alone with a migraine.”

I put an arm around her poor bony shoulders and made her sit on the sofa. “Don’t blame yourself,” I said. “Annie, get some wine for Lady DeGrue.”

If blame belonged on anyone but the culprits, it was on me. I was the one who had unwittingly loosened Isabel’s chains. I knew in my heart she would never have done such a thing before I convinced her she was treated like a child. The trouble was that she
was
a child, insofar as practical worldly knowledge went. Lord Ronald would not have given her a second look if I had not talked her into the dashing high poke bonnet, for that matter.

“She didn’t leave a note?” Geoffrey asked.

“No, not a word.” Poor Lady DeGrue tried to stand up, and fell back on the sofa. “We must be off at once,” she said.

“You are not going anywhere. Miss Potter and I shall go with Geoffrey,” I told her firmly.

She looked at me with the eyes of a whipped dog and said in a low voice, “What will Mr. Nesbitt think of her? He will never offer for her now. Such an excellent parti.”

“Hush. He loves her better than that, Lady DeGrue. We shall bring her back, and see them married before any scandal breaks.”

She patted my hand. “You were always so kind to Isabel. I wish there were some way I could repay you, Miss Nesbitt.”

The others joined us for a hurried discussion of Isabel’s recovery. Geoffrey drew out his watch. “If they left around eight—and they could not have left much earlier—they would have gone about...” He frowned. “In Lord Ronald’s carriage, and with that team of grays, I shall never overtake them.”

“Geoffrey!” I scolded, for this speech threw Lady DeGrue into another spasm of trembling. “We don’t know when they left. Perhaps it was only minutes before Lady DeGrue discovered her gone. We’ll hire a better team.”

“Her bed was cold,” Lady DeGrue said with a forlorn shake of her head.

“What we really require is a curricle,” Geoffrey decided. “It would make twice the time, but mine is at home, and of course the livery stable at Bath has none for hire.”

Lady DeGrue looked up from her handkerchief. “Lord Paton, Miss Nesbitt,” she said hopefully. “He has the best bloods in all of Bath. We shan’t mind his knowing about this disaster, as he is such a close friend of yours. And his discretion can be counted on.”

The idea filled me with horror. How could I ask the help of a man who despised me? I had no claim on Paton’s charity. Besides, I had not heard from him for two days, and had no idea where he was. I thought he might even have returned to London by now. “I’m afraid I don’t know where he is this evening,” I said.

It was true, but it was also true that he had the best nags in Bath. If anyone could overtake Lord Ronald, it was surely Paton. But we could not afford to waste time trying to locate him. It seemed hard to leave Lady DeGrue alone, and I added, “Annie, do you think you might stay ...”

“She should not be alone,” Annie agreed. “You two run along. I’m too old to be battering along in the dark of night.”

Geoffrey and I ran back to the waiting carriage.

“I wonder if they are really headed to Scotland,” I said.

“It’s certainly marriage he has in mind, but Gretna Green is a mighty long haul. It would take days to reach it from Bath, and he knows Isabel is not without friends.”

“Perhaps he’ll try for something closer,” I worried.

“London is a mighty long haul too. His father’s estate is nearly as far away, in Cornwall. The man has no imagination. It’ll be Gretna Green. At least he cannot marry her till he gets her there. We’ll overtake him long before that.”

“He doesn’t have to marry her. Once he spends the night with her, she’ll have no choice but to have him.”

I had spoken without thinking, and I could see how my words affected Geoffrey. He froze into a perfect statue, with his lips clenched tightly together. “I’ll kill the scoundrel,” he growled. Something in his voice reminded me of a mad dog.

He urged the coachman to go faster, till we were flying along the road, being mercilessly tossed to and fro in the carriage.

“Do you think we should stop and make inquiries at some of the inns?” I suggested.

“Not yet. There’s no point till we get a few hours from Bath. He won’t risk being seen and recognized close to home. By Stroud, or thereabouts, he’ll start to feel safe.”

Our destination was a little more than twenty-five miles, when the twisting road was taken into account. There was no escaping hills. Our trip took us into Cotswold country, through pretty villages with magnificent churches. The hunting boxes of the wealthy stood atop the hills and nestled into the valleys beyond. With relentless pressure on John Groom and the nags, we made it to Stroud in three hours, with a few stops at inns close to the city. The town was as hard on the horses as Bath. It rests on the steep side of a narrow valley, with the Thames and Severn cutting through it.

It was the dead of night, actually early morning, for it was after two o’clock when we arrived. There was no gaslight in this part of the country. The buildings were all dark except the inns, where torches blazed outside and a few lights within told us someone was still up.

“Where shall we begin?” Geoffrey asked, his eye running down the main street to three or four establishments.

“Right here, at the Three Feathers.”

I was cramped and sore and tired. My eyes felt as if someone had thrown sand in them, and I was as hungry as a horse. But it was a relief to have reached Stroud, and I alit from the carriage with hope soaring. We went into the Three Feathers and straight to the desk, where Geoffrey roused the clerk by ringing the desk bell. Within two minutes we knew Isabel was not here. The performance was repeated at the Rose and Thistle, the George, and the Shipwalk, with the same results.

We returned to the carriage, crestfallen. “We must make a tour of all the inns close by, just beyond town,” I said. “Etherington is poor. Perhaps they are putting up at a smaller, cheaper establishment.”

“Or rushing straight on to Gretna Green,” Geoffrey said, jaw muscles working.

“They are only made of flesh and bone, like us. They will have stopped somewhere nearby. They are at some inn, having dinner and taking a rest.”

Geoffrey’s jaws clenched furiously. “I’ll kill him,” he growled in a very good parody of a hero. Unfortunately he had brought neither pistol nor sword with him, and I did not think him capable of execution with his bare hands.

“Let us continue and try the next spot,” I suggested.

We re-entered the carriage and went on to a small stone place called Jack Duck’s Tavern, with a discreet sign in the window saying Rooms, Meals, Ale. “He wouldn’t have brought her here,” Geoffrey said, nose turning down.

“It’s worth a try. In any case, the front hall is all lit up inside. We shan’t have to rouse the clerk. Geoffrey! Maybe Etherington has already done it for us! Why is this place ablaze when none of the others were? They’ve had a recent arrival!”

“By God, you could be right! I’ll nip around to the stable before we enter and see if his carriage is here.” He left, to return a moment later, bristling with success. “They’re here! And he cannot have had time to—I mean they only arrived fifteen minutes ago.”

“Let us go in!”

Chapter Sixteen

A decrepit old hag wrapped in mismatched and soiled shawls sat at the desk thumbing through a copy of
The Ladies’ Journal.
Was this really my audience! Before we said a word she turned a knowing, bloodshot eye on us. “Too late, dearies. I’m all filled up. If you’d care to wait an hour, Mr. Smith may be finished with his suite. He must get his lady home before morning.”

“Good God!” Geoffrey exclaimed, and looked at me as if he would like to cover my ears. “You’d best wait in the carriage, Emma. This is no place for a lady.”

It was a temptation, but before I decided, the air was pierced with a shriek, coming from behind a door across the hallway. Geoffrey and I exchanged a look of mute horror. “Isabel!” we said in unison, and darted to the door. It was locked. The hag waggled her head and said, “Mr. Jones is a bit of a lad, but he never hurts them.”

“Open this door at once!” I demanded.

Geoffrey was already slamming at it, first with his shoulder, and next with his foot, which proved more effective. The battered old door flew open and we stared at just such a lively scene of dissipation as we had both been dreading for three hours.