Runaway Miss (16 page)

Next morning, knowing his lordship would be talking at length to Joe Bland and not wanting to be on hand should he discover how she had deceived him, Emma dressed for walking, put on her boots and took herself off for a long trek on the fells. The lovely weather of the day before had disappeared. It had been like that all year: one lovely day followed by several of wind and rain. It wasn’t raining now, but overcast and quite cool considering it was June, supposedly the hottest month of the year.

Half an hour after leaving home, she was climbing a rough path that would take her on to Loughrigg, a long, low fell that stretched all the way from just above Ambleside to Grasmere.
She had made enquiries about the route and intended to make her way to the summit at Todd Crag and then down to Skelwith Bridge where she had been told there was a pretty waterfall and thence back by the road to Ambleside and Waterhead.

There were some other walkers on the hills, but they did not bother her as she picked her way to the top, her mind more on her dilemma over Lord Malvers than on the scenery. Would Joe Bland tell him that Lady Emma Lindsay had disappeared from her home and her family were seeking her? Would he put two and two together? And, if he did, how angry would he be? On the other hand, why should Joe Bland pick up any of the gossip of the
haut monde
? He was a home-coming soldier, a servant, and such matters would pass over his head.

What did she think she was doing, wandering about the hills all alone? Especially after Mrs Summers’s warning? For even up here she could not hide from the truth of who she was. It would be better to make a clean breast of it and hope for the best. At least she could then take her place in what passed for high society hereabouts. But to do that would mean making a liar of Mrs Summers and laying her open to gossip and that would be unfair to her kind hostess. And if her stepfather were to hear where she was, he would be up here like a shot, dragging her back to be married to Lord Bentwater. Unless Viscount Malvers stepped in. But what on earth possessed her to suppose he might do anything of the sort? Just because he had said he would not let anyone harm her did not mean he would condone what amounted to daughterly disobedience.

He had looked after her on their journey and kissed her, it was true, but looking after her was simply the action of a kind and chivalrous man and, as far as he was aware, he was only kissing a superior kind of servant, not anyone of any conse
quence. That kiss had set her heart beating nineteen to the dozen and turned her limbs to jelly, very different from the revulsion she had felt when Mr Griggs attempted it. It made her realise how much Alex Malvers had come to mean to her, that she loved him more than she knew how to express. But he must never know; it would be too humiliating to have him scoff at the temerity of someone as lowly as a lady’s companion aspiring to catch the eye of a viscount. And if he ever learned that she was not lowly at all, but an earl’s daughter, he would be angry that she had not trusted him enough to confide in him. And none of that meant he loved her.

She reached the summit and stood for a moment to get her breath back and found Ambleside, Waterhead and almost the whole of Lake Windermere spread out below her. The wind, which had been a gentle breeze on the lower slopes, was fierce enough up here to grab at her skirt and send it billowing about her legs. Her hat fell down her back and her hair came undone. Suddenly she found herself laughing. Lady Emma Lindsay would never have come out alone and certainly not in such a dishevelled state. Miss Fanny Draper was another matter, not important enough to need an escort. But which was she? She hardly knew any more. She turned her back on Windermere and began walking again…

‘You think she is Lady Emma?’ Alex asked Joe. They were talking in the stables. Alex was dressed for riding, having intended to ask Miss Draper if she cared to accompany him. He had been disconcerted to discover she had gone out very early, telling Mrs Granger she meant to go for a walk. He hoped she would not go far because the clouds were building up again and it could be very unpleasant on the fells in the rain. It was easy to lose your way even if you knew the paths well; if you did not know the area, it would be hopeless.

‘I’d lay odds on it,’ Joe said, answering his question.
‘The talk is that she’s gone missing, that her mother is laid low with the worry of it and her stepfather spitting fire. He sent Runners out to all points of the compass, but neither hide nor hair of her has been found. There’s a reward out for her safe return.’

‘Safe!’ Alex exclaimed. ‘Home is the last place she would be safe.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Sir George is gambling with her life.’ He saw the look of puzzlement on Joe’s face and explained how he came to know Sir George’s intentions, making Joe whistle.

‘If our Miss Draper is the same lady,’ Alex went on, ‘I can understand her wish to remain undiscovered.’

‘Are you going to face her with it?’

‘No. We will allow her the comfort of her disguise. And you will say nothing either. If she wants me to know, she will tell me in her own time.’

‘You can rely on me, Major. But o’ course we could be wrong all along.’

‘We could.’ He paused. ‘There’s a dozen or so men coming here today. Find out what they need in the way of implements and materials and set them to work on the yacht. I want it to look like a miniature battleship. I’m going to talk to my aunt and then I’m going after our intrepid adventurer. She could find herself in danger without even knowing it.’

He had already explained to Joe about his project and been promised his wholehearted support, so he had no qualms about leaving him in charge. No one knew better that Joe Bland, one-time long-serving sergeant, how to get the best out of a band of men. He found his aunt in her parlour with a pair of wire spectacles on her nose, reading a local newspaper.

‘You have already made your mark,’ she said when he entered the room. ‘There is an account here of everything you have done since you arrived and couched in the most glowing
terms. There is even a hint that you are planning a most spectacular entertainment for the whole population.’ She put the paper down and looked up at him. ‘That is what you need to make the regatta a success, Alex, good publicity.’

‘Yes, I know. Without it, no one will know what is happening. I thought I might go into Kendal and arrange for posters to be printed and distributed.’ He sat down opposite her. ‘Aunt, there is something particular I want to ask you.’

‘Ask away, dear boy, I will answer if I can.’

‘Do you know who Fanny Draper really is?’

‘Oh, dear, perhaps I should have said I will answer if I am at liberty to do so.’

‘It is not your secret to tell?’

‘No.’

‘But you do know she is not Fanny Draper?’

‘Alex, you are making it very difficult for me. It is not in my nature to tell an untruth.’

‘Then do not say anything. Nod your head if I am right. She is not Fanny Draper, she is Lady Emma Lindsay.’ Amelia nodded, obviously distressed. ‘Do not worry, Aunt, I am not going to tax her with it. I know perfectly well why she had to leave home. I was there when the bargain was struck.’

‘You were?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Yes.’ For the second time that morning he explained what had happened.

‘Does she know you were there?’

‘Heaven forbid! But how did you become involved?’

‘Her mother is an old friend of mine. She sent her to me. It was done in such a hurry, she could not pack properly, nor be given sufficient funds. Her mama gave her a pearl necklace and told her to pawn it if she needed money. Unfortunately, it turned out to be made of paste. I was so thankful you were on hand to see she was safe.’

‘The devil had the real pearls, I’ll be bound. Is there no end
to his wickedness? But talking of being safe, do you know where she has gone this morning?’

‘She told Mrs Granger she was going for a walk and asked her where the best views were. Mrs Granger suggested Loughrigg, seeing it’s a fairly easy climb, or round Wansfell to Jenkyns Crag.’

His heart sank; the walks were in opposite directions. Grimly, he said, ‘The wind is getting up and I think there’s a storm blowing up. I’m going to look for her.’

‘A storm? Oh, merciful heavens! Take some of the men with you. You’ll never find her alone. Oh dear, oh dear, whatever will her mother say? She sent her to me to be safe and I have failed her.’ She had left her seat and was pacing the room in her agitation. ‘Oh, I shall never forgive myself if she is lost or hurt. Find her Alex, find her, please.’

He endeavoured to retain a calm façade, for his aunt’s sake, but his voice betrayed his fear as he promised, ‘I will. Do not distress yourself. I’ll be back with her safe and sound in no time.’ He left her standing at the widow, peering up into the hills, as if trying to see into the distance and discover Emma’s whereabouts.

Back in the stables he had his horse saddled because he would be quicker on horseback. Then he told the men to leave off what they were doing and search the fells, some to go to Wansfell, some to Grasmere and Rydal Water. ‘Every nook and cranny,’ he commanded. He did not wait to see if they understood but, slinging a coil of rope over his shoulder just in case it should be needed, mounted Salamanca and galloped off down the road to Waterhead, crossed the bridge and made for Loughrigg. He did not know if the stallion would manage the whole ascent, but he would ride as far as he could, then tether him.

The wind blew the rain in from the west and Emma pulled her jacket closer about her and plodded on. She ought to
abandon her walk and return by the quickest route to the valley and home. There was a path leading downwards and she took it, but it petered out and she found herself looking about her for a landmark, something to give her a direction, and was shocked to find she was alone. There were no other walkers in sight. They had obviously interpreted the weather signs before she did and made their way off the fells. She told herself she could not possibly be lost. Ambleside lay behind her and Grasmere to the north, though what was on the western side of the hill she had no idea. Had she strayed there? The wind was in her face. That was surely the wrong direction. She turned and tried walking with it at her back, but there was no path and the rain was making the scree slippery.

It was then she heard the dog barking. A minute later it raced up to her, wagging its tail. It was a wiry little terrier and she stooped to pet it. ‘Have you come to see me safely home, or are you lost, too?’ she asked. The answer was more frenzied barking. It raced off a few yards and then stopped and turned back to her. ‘Yes, I know you want me to follow. So lead on, little fellow.’

The dog ran off and she followed. It stopped several times to wait for her to catch up before setting off again. She had no idea where the animal was leading her. Sometimes they were struggling uphill, sometimes almost running downwards. Sometimes she had to scramble over boulders that the rain had made slippery. She found herself crawling on hands and knees more than once.

The dog stopped suddenly on the edge of a steep scree slope and stood barking. She went to the edge, knowing there was no way down. How foolish she had been to follow the dog, for now she was hopelessly lost. A thin cry came to her from somewhere below her feet and she bent down to see a little boy about ten feet down on a ledge between two massive rocks, which had checked his fall.

‘Are you hurt?’ she called down, but he was too distressed to answer.

She looked about her. There was no one in sight and the rain was making visibility very poor. ‘Do you know where I can get help?’ she asked.

‘I wanna go home. I want me ma.’

There was nothing for it. While the dog continued its frenzied barking, she scrambled down the steep incline until she joined the child on the ledge, breathless, scratched and bruised. ‘Now we’ve both to climb back up,’ she said. ‘If I help you, do you think you can make it?’ She put an arm about him and hauled him to his feet. He was barefoot and not above seven years old. He stood on one foot, but refused to put his weight on the other. She sat him down again, tore off her petticoat and made a bandage to tie about his ankle. ‘We will have to go up on hands and knees,’ she told him. ‘Do you think you can manage that if I come up close behind you?’

He nodded, braver now he had company, but though he tried, the climb was too painful for him and they were forced to retreat back to the ledge. She sat down beside him and cuddled him to her. ‘We’ll just have to wait here until someone finds us.’

It was cold and wet and he was shivering. She held him close, opening her jacket and wrapping it about both of them, talking soothingly. ‘What is your name, little one?’

‘Sam, missus.’

‘How did you come to fall down here? Were you lost?’

‘No.’ It was said scathingly. ‘It was Nipper. He chased a rabbit and fell down, so I went after him, but he got back on his own…’

‘Leaving you hurt and stuck. Never mind, he found me, so perhaps he will find someone else. He is making enough noise to rouse the whole town. Do you live in Ambleside, Sam?’

‘On the fell.’

She looked up at the dog, which was peering down at them, barking fit to burst. ‘Go home, Nipper,’ she shouted. ‘Go and fetch help. Go on, Nipper. Go!’

He disappeared, but was back in a few moments and barking again, obviously reluctant to leave them. Emma realised it could be a long while before they were found and wondered if she ought to persuade the child to let her try to climb up and go for help, but she did not like to leave him. There was a nasty drop on one side of them; if he fell again, he would be dashed to pieces. Come to that, so would she.

She did not know how long it was, but it seemed an age when the dog, which had become quiet, started barking again. ‘All right, young feller, what’s all the noise about?’ The voice was a man’s and it was addressing the dog.

‘Help!’ Emma shouted. ‘We’re down here.’

A head peered down at them. ‘Miss Draper, is that you?’

She was never more pleased to see him and hear his voice, so matter of fact that he might have been making polite conversation over the teacups. ‘Yes. There’s a little boy with me. He’s hurt his ankle.’