Sally James (10 page)

Araminta, not unduly concerned, was easily able to direct her attention to such shopping, and to gratified thoughts of seeing Denzil again sooner than she had thought possible.

* * * *

Denzil’s thoughts were far from Araminta, however. He had been informed, on rising that morning, that a lady waited below to see him.

“A lady? Alone? At this hour?” he queried of his valet who had brought this message, conveying it in a most disapproving tone.

“She seems a lady, from the looks of her,” Sugden admitted grudgingly. “Though why she should be so wishful to stay when we said you weren’t up, I can’t tell!”

“She gave no name?” Denzil was carefully adjusting his cravat.

Sugden snorted. “No. I tried to deny you, Sir Denzil, but she said that she did not mind how long she waited, for she was well aware of gentlemen’s habits!” he concluded indignantly.

Denzil laughed. “And no doubt disapproves! What is she like?”

“Tall, severe, middle aged. Her hair was greyish, what I could see. She was well dressed, and spoke ladylike. I can’t make her out,” he said, dissatisfied, as he held up Denzil’s coat of blue superfine, and helped him struggle into the close fitting garment.

Denzil grinned. “Then I shall undoubtedly have to see her to satisfy your curiosity.”

He passed down a flight of stairs and entered the drawing room. His visitor was standing looking out of the window, but turned swiftly at his entrance. He surveyed her calmly, his expression a mixture of polite enquiry and slight boredom.

“Miss Brockton, I think?” he drawled. “To what do I owe this delightful surprise?”

“I think you know very well, Sir Denzil!” she snapped angrily, moving a few steps into the room.

He raised his eyebrows. “Pray be seated.”

Unwillingly she subsided into the chair he held for her, and then he leaned against the mantelpiece, looking down at her with a puzzled frown in his eyes.

“I understood you never left your delightful island retreat,” he said after a slight pause.

Miss Brockton flashed him a glance, suspicious he mocked her, but could read nothing in his expression. She took a deep breath.

“Where is Redruth?” she demanded abruptly.

“Redruth?” he repeated slowly. “Oh, you mean the girl, your charge? I cannot conceive why you should imagine I can tell you that. Has she left the island?”

“Yes, and I would be prepared to swear you had a hand in it!”

“But why the deuce should you think that?”

“I have my reasons.”

He surveyed her calmly. “I would hope so, before you go about making such accusations. Have you any proof? Or is it mere speculation that, since I was unfortunate enough to be shipwrecked on your island, I am responsible for the disappearance of. your charge?”

She flushed dully at his tone, contemptuous and cutting. “I have no proof other than the interest you took in the girl! It is highly suspicious she should disappear so soon after your visit, tempted, I have no doubt, by wicked promises you made the poor deluded child!”

“How can you be certain she left the island? Could there not have been some fatal accident?” he suggested.

“And many of her clothes missing from her room? No, Sir Denzil! You will not fob me off so easily! Where is she?”

“Why should I know?” he countered.

“She was unsettled after your visit. I told you how it was with her! Please, Sir Denzil!” She dropped her accusing tone and pleaded with him, twisting a handkerchief worriedly between her fingers. “If you know where she is, restore her to me! She is not normal, like other girls! I must take her back!”

“She was perfectly normal, as I insisted before,” he said calmly, unmoved by her evident anxiety, putting it down to fear she had failed in her trust. “If that poor girl has indeed escaped from her captivity, then I am vastly delighted, and would not in any way assist you in restoring her to it. I considered your treatment of her to be intolerable, for she was no more mad than either of us. I sincerely trust you will not find her, if your intention is to imprison her again!”

She stared at him, biting her lip. “I was trying to protect her,” she said tremulously. “She was unhinged!”

“I cannot judge the sincerity of your belief in that,” he replied, “but you could have obtained expert opinions, which you did not.”

“She was my responsibility. I had to care for her, but her guardian would have made such arrangements had he considered them to be of any value. I had not that power,” she protested.

“Who is this guardian?” Denzil asked slowly.

Miss Brockton shut her mouth firmly, and recovering some of her calm, shook her head.

“That I am not able to tell you. But I am convinced you had something to do with Redruth’s disappearance, and when I see her guardian, he will no doubt wish to make further enquiries of you.”

Denzil smiled slightly. “Then he does not yet know of her disappearance?” he asked softly. “That is decidedly odd, is it not?”

Miss Brockton cast him a glance of dislike. “There are special circumstances which in no way concern you,” she attempted with some dignity after a slight pause. “But he will hear soon.”

“Then I look forward to meeting him, and conveying to him what I have said to you regarding the barbaric treatment the girl received,” he responded swiftly.

Baffled, she stared silently at him, noting the cool, aloof glance.

“You will regret it if you have abducted her!” she threw at him.

“I can but wonder at your persistence in that delusion,” he said easily. “I freely confess, though, that I will in no way wish you success in your search if you mean to force that poor child back into the abominable life she was leading. Pray be so good as to inform her guardian I will be happy to discuss the matter with him if he so desires. As for the girl, whatever her present circumstances, I cannot think they are likely to be worse than on the island.”

As she seemed to have no more to say, he pulled the bell rope, and when his butler came, bade Miss Brockton farewell. She rose, unable to pursue her enquiries without creating an undignified scene, and after staring at him for a long moment in silence, abruptly took her departure.

* * * *

It was a select party that night at Lady Devoran’s, with only a couple of dozen guests. Miranda was already there by the time the Floodes arrived, and Araminta had no need of being told who she was. Entering the room where the guests were congregated, Araminta’s glance flew immediately to the group of men surrounding Miranda. The girl’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment her step faltered, for Miranda was indeed lovely, in a most striking way. Then, realising there would be many interested spectators of this meeting, she raised her chin, smiled unconcernedly, and greeted her hostess.

Lady Devoran was a well made woman in her late forties, a widow with an only son. Tom, in his mid twenties, had made an offer to Araminta towards the end of the season, and had been rejected, so this, their first encounter since, was embarrassing for them both. But Araminta smiled at him, the faintest suggestion of an apology in her eyes, and he made some polite remarks about her visit to Essex, so that the awkward moment passed. Other friends came across the room to speak with her, and she was highly gratified to observe that several of Miranda’s court were amongst these. At last Denzil, who had been chatting with an older man, strolled across.

“Welcome back to town, Araminta.”

“I am surprised you beat me to it!”she responded cheerfully, laughing up into his face. “I had thought you intended to stay in Cornwall for a few months.”

“I did, but I discovered some unfinished business that required my presence in town,” he said, smiling at her in his old way.

Hoping he was implying he had missed her, and intended to make his offer at last, she smiled back warmly.

“I have heard a vast amount of gossip about your ward,” she plunged. “I suppose that is she, in the white dress? Will you not present me?”

He smiled appreciatively, led her across the room watched surreptitiously by everyone present, and made her known to Miranda.

The two girls inspected one another curiously while they uttered conventional greetings. Miranda saw a dark haired, brown eyed beauty, with rounded features and an excellent figure, though a few inches shorter than herself. Denzil had certainly selected the best looking of the girls she had yet seen, she reflected, firmly suppressing the stab of envy that assailed her.

“I have heard so much of you from my mother,” Araminta said winningly. “She was most taken with you, and hoped we might be friends.”

Miranda would not have interpreted Mrs Floode’s attitude in precisely those terms, but she reminded herself she had little experience of other people, and smiled, politely expressing the same hope.

Just then Lady Devoran began to shepherd her guests into the music room where they were to be entertained by a small professional group of musicians and singers, and Miranda went to sit with Judith while Araminta found a seat beside Denzil. There was no time for further conversation until after the concert, when they were at supper.

Seeing Tom Devoran bear Miranda off to the supper room, Denzil made his way to Judith and guided her to a small table at the side of the room, screened by potted palms.

“I must talk with you,” he said softly. “I will procure some food.”

Swiftly he did so, and returned with plates laden with lobster patties and other delicacies. Judith eyed him anxiously.

“Has something occurred to disturb you?”

“Miss Brockton bearded me in my den this morning,” he replied, grinning at her. “She accuses me of abduction and breathes of unspecified vengeance when Miranda’s guardian – again unspecified – hears of her disappearance.”

“Do you think she knows where Miranda is?”

“She has no idea, merely connects me with her flight.”

“Did she mention Sir Henry?”

“No. She was very distressed, but sufficiently mistress of herself not to give away his name.”

“She knows you helped Miranda?”

“I do not think she has any proof, but you must admit the circumstances point strongly to my involvement. I had been expecting her to come to me before.”

“Why has she delayed so, do you think?”

“She may first have been making enquiries about Sir Henry and when he is to be expected back in London. She must be in a quandary about what to tell him.”

“Will she try to reach Miranda?”

“It will take her some time to make the connection between us, for she cannot move in polite circles. I do not think you can expect a visit from her.”

“But what if she sees Miranda accidentally?”

“That we cannot prevent. But we are forewarned. Never allow Miranda to go out alone. And I had best warn her Miss Brockton has appeared, so that if they meet it will not come as too great a shock. Do you think she will be afraid?”

Judith considered. “No, I think not. She has gained enormously in confidence these last few days, and after all, what can the woman do? Would she hire bullies to carry Miranda off by force?”

Denzil laughed. “I hardly think so! Where would a lady – for she is that – who has lived isolated from the world these past sixteen years, find such convenient allies? No, my dear, there is no need for undue concern, provided we take sensible precautions. But can you ensure she never goes out alone?”

Judith reassured him, and he smiled at her gratefully, then looked across the room, becoming silent as he watched Araminta, who had joined Miranda and Tom and some other young people, and was laughing gaily, flirting vivaciously with a couple of admirers.

Araminta made further efforts to become friendly with Miranda, and as the guests began to take their leave, she suggested they should go shopping together on the following day.

“I need more stockings and gloves, and there is a new lending library I mean to visit. I want to obtain the new book by the author of
Pride and Prejudice
, which I have not yet been able to do. Shall we ask Lady Beverley if you might come?”

Permission was sought and granted, and satisfied, Araminta permitted herself to be taken home without a backward glance at Denzil.

* * * *

The shopping expedition was a success, and from then on Araminta made certain she saw Miranda several times a week.

Judith suspected what was in her mind, but thought it wisest not to interfere, though she watched Denzil’s apparent renewal of his attentions to Araminta with considerable disquiet.

As well as the friendship with Araminta, Miranda by now had a wide circle of friends and admirers, foremost amongst the latter Richard Fellowes and the Earl of Devoran.

Every evening there seemed to be some social function, and Miranda found it hard to believe Judith’s assertion that there was a distinct lack of company in town. Miranda could now ride the docile mare Denzil had provided for her proficiently enough to ride with him and others in the Park.

Her dancing lessons had progressed well, and since she had a natural grace, and was quick to learn the steps, it was soon decided she could dance in public. The hurdle of the first ball was passed triumphantly, and anxious as Miranda had been not to make mistakes, her lack of practice went unremarked, and now she thoroughly enjoyed dancing, inevitably being besieged by hopeful partners.

As soon as Araminta considered her intimacy with Miranda permitted of confidences, she began to drop hints about Denzil. The first time she did so was when the girls were taking tea in her own sitting room. Araminta had laughingly teased Miranda about the many partners who had crowded round her at a ball the previous evening, and then had led the conversation round to Denzil.

“Do you not think him handsome?” she sighed, and Miranda agreed.

“There have been so many girls casting lures for him,” Araminta went on. “But now – “ she halted, as if confused, and achieved a giggle. “Oh, dear, I have said too much!”

She looked at Miranda with wide, innocent eyes that missed nothing, but Miranda did not even blink. Disappointed at her cool reaction to this effort, Araminta then tried to persuade Miranda to talk about her own home, but she learned little more than her mother, despite exercising far more tact in her approach. The main outline as invented by Denzil and Miranda was of course well known by now, but Miranda mentioned to Araminta her governess Miss Brockton, and described parts of Cornwall that she had seen on her journey to London, while being careful not to let fall the slightest reference to the island.