Splendid (41 page)

Bottomley nodded, looking quite a bit more serious than he had moments earlier.

“Shipton, go with Bottomley so that we know where he leaves the carriage and meet us back here in the main street. Ames, we're going shopping.”

“Shopping, yer grace?” He looked distressed. “I'm not sure that now is—”

Emma shot him a withering glare but held on to her temper. “I'm not going shopping for fripperies, Ames. We're going to need some supplies if we're going to rescue Belle.”

“Supplies? What kind of supplies?”

“I'm not sure yet, but if you give me a minute, I'll figure it out.” She looked up. Bottomley and Shipton hadn't moved. “Will you two get going!” she bit out. “We haven't a moment to lose!”

After the two men had scurried out of her sight, Ames turned to her and said, “Don't worry, yer grace. Bottomley sometimes says the wrong thing, but he's got his head on straight.”

“I hope you're right, Ames. Now, let us have a look at some of these shops.” Emma scanned the storefronts until her gaze fell on a fabric store with ready-made dresses displayed in the window. That might be promising. She turned to Ames and pressed a coin in his hand. “Find me some lampblack and meet back here as soon as possible.”

“Lampblack, yer grace?”

“For my hair. It's rather conspicuous. I'm going to get something to wear. I'll see you soon.”

Emma entered the shop, and all four salesladies gasped simultaneously, for so elegant a lady rarely came to the village of Harewood, much less graced their shop.

“May—may I help you?” the bravest one finally inquired.

“Yes, indeed,” Emma replied, flashing them her friendliest grin. “I need something to wear.”

The head saleslady eyed Emma's stylish green dress, her expression pained. She couldn't offer anything up to Emma's obvious standards and she knew it.

“What I need, actually, is a costume,” Emma said hastily. “I have a fancy dress ball to attend next week, and I want to get something a little different.”

“Oh. Well, we could opt for the Grecian look. I have some lovely fabric that we can use for a tunic.”

“No, I don't think so,” Emma said, shaking her head. “My hair, you know. I don't think the ancient Greeks had such bright hair.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” the saleslady immediately agreed, nodding her head furiously.

“Something simple. Perhaps…a maid.”

“A maid?”

“Yes, a maid. Of the serving variety. A housemaid.”

The salesladies looked dubious. No one jumped forward to assist Emma in her quest.

“I definitely want a maid's costume,” Emma said sharply. “Don't tell me that you don't supply any for any of the nearby gentry.”

Two of the ladies crashed into each other in their haste to help Emma, and she exited the store not two minutes later, a packaged maid's costume under her arm. A moment later Ames rushed up to her side.

“Did you get the lampblack?”

“Even better.” Ames held up a package. “A wig.”

Emma peered in the bag. An improbable shade of blond assaulted her eyes. “Well, I certainly won't
look like myself. Now, where is Shipton? We need to be off. Lord only knows what's happened to Belle.”

As if on cue, Shipton bounded around the corner and nearly ran into them. “The carriage is next to the church,” he said, gasping for breath. “Bottomley's already left for Westonbirt.”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Let's go.” Walking briskly, she led her motley crew to The Hare and Hounds, where she asked for two rooms.

“And do you have any luggage, my lady?”

Oh drat, she'd forgotten that one needed bags when one checked in at an inn. “My grooms will bring it by later. It's still in my carriage.”

“And for how many nights will that be for, my lady?”

Emma blinked. “Urn, I'm not sure. At least one. Perhaps more.” She straightened and adopted Alex's most imperious stare. “And is it necessary that I tell you now?”

“No, no, of course not.” The clerk suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. “If you could just sign the register.”

Emma picked up the quill and signed with a flourish. Lady Clarissa Trent. “There,” she muttered under her breath, “she always wanted a title.”

As soon as Emma was shown to her room on the second floor, she changed into the maid's costume and pulled on the wig. She crossed over to the fireplace and picked up a little soot and rubbed it between her hands until they were covered by a very thin residue. She slapped her hands gently against her cheeks, applying a tiny bit of the soot to her skin. A glance in the mirror told her that she was successful. Her skin now had a slightly ashen quality which, combined with the yellow wig,
made her look frightful. But more importantly, she looked absolutely unlike herself.

She scooted out of her room and knocked on the next door down the hall. Ames pulled open the door. “Dear God, yer grace, you look
awful
!”

“Good. Now, one of you, go get my trunk before the innkeeper becomes suspicious. I'll try to figure out which room Belle is in.”

After her grooms departed, Emma slunk down the hall, looking this way and that, all the while keeping an ear open for approaching footsteps. When she was convinced that she was quite alone, she pressed her ear up to the door next to hers. She heard passionate groaning.

“Oh, Eustace. Oh, Eustace. OH, EUSTACE!”

Emma jumped away as if burned. Definitely not Belle's room. She moved across the hall. She heard a female voice.

“And idle hands are just an invitation for Satan. Satan I say. He lurks in every corner.”

Emma shook her head and stepped back. First of all, Belle's captors were most definitely male, and anyway, she didn't think they conducted conversations about the devil. She moved on down the hallway to the door next to Eustace's.

“Not another word out o' you, little missy. One more peep and I'm gonna take this belt an'—”

“Shut up, you ass. You know we promised the mort we'd serve 'er up safe an' sound. 'E's not gonna give us the gold if we touch 'er.”

Emma gasped. Belle must be in that room and from the sound of it, she wasn't doing very well.

“'Ow much longer 'ave we got ta wait?”

“'E said 'e would get 'ere by nightfall. Now shut up and leave me alone.”

“She shore is a fancy piece. 'E might not notice if we just 'ave a wee taste of 'er afore 'e gets 'ere.”

Emma's stomach dropped into her shoes, but she forced herself to remain strong, for she knew that whatever she was feeling, Belle was feeling it a hundred times worse.

“Are you stupid? Of course 'e's gonna notice if we touch 'er. Damn it, if you ruin this fer me, I'll kill ya. Don't think I won't.”

A scuffle ensued. Slightly panicked, Emma knocked on the door.

“What the hell?” An unkempt man whipped open the door. Belle was sitting on a bed by the far wall next to the other man. Next to the bed was an open window. Emma noticed that her cousin wasn't moving a muscle, and she strongly suspected that the man next to her had a pistol pointed at her back.

“Beggin' yer pardon, sir,” Emma said quickly, bobbing a curtsy. “But the innkeeper was wonderin' if you'd be wantin' something ta eat. 'E thought you might want it up 'ere in yer room.”

“I don't think so.” The door started to close in Emma's face.

“Hey! Wait a minute. Did ya ever think that I might be 'ungry?” The man on the bed glared viciously at his partner.

“All right. Bring us up a meal. Meat pie, if you got it. And some ale.”

“Thank you, sir. Oi'll get it up ta you as soon as oi can.” Emma bobbed another curtsy, afraid that she'd overdone the accent. She waited by the door for a few moments after it closed, listening to see if the villains suspected anything. They only continued to bicker, so Emma was convinced that she'd carried off her charade. Besides, Belle hadn't even recognized her.

Once Emma returned to her room, she sent Ames down to order some meat pie and ale. He brought it back to her on a tray about ten minutes later.
“Wish me luck,” she whispered, and disappeared down the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Emma knocked on the door again.

“Who is it?”

“It's me, sir, bringin' ya some meat pie, jest like ya asked fer.”

The door opened. “Come on in.”

Emma entered and put the tray down on the bureau, taking the plates one by one to a nearby table. She had to prolong her precious few minutes in the room. She needed to let Belle know that help was on the way. But her cousin had her gaze fixed on one of the bedposts and wasn't moving.

“Could you believe the rain we 'ad yesterday?” Emma said suddenly. “Oi swear, it was a tempest out there, don'tcha think?”

The villain by the door gave her a funny look. “Yeah, I s'pose.”

Emma brought the third and final plate over to the table. “And everybody got so upset about it. Personally, oi thought it was all much ado about nothing, but ya know, some people won't listen to reason.” She moved back to the tray and picked up a mug of ale with two hands. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Belle's eyes narrow. “Oi don't know,” she continued brightly. “It all turned out fine in the end. Don'tcha think? And that's all that matters, right? All's well that ends well, that's what oi always say.”

No doubt about it, Belle had definitely torn her eyes away from the bedpost and was now regarding Emma curiously.

Emma, meanwhile, was still holding the second mug of ale. “Some folks, though, they just like ta complain, an' there's nothin' ya can do about it. My sister Cymbeline, she just went on and on about the rain. I thought my brother Julius was gonna
kill 'er. When Julius sees 'er wailin' it's like the devil's gotten inta 'im.” Emma paused and put the last mug of ale on the table. “But my other sister, Emma, she stepped in afore Julius could 'urt poor ol' Cymbeline. She took care of everything.”

Belle started coughing uncontrollably. Her fit seemed to jolt the villains, who had been almost mesmerized by the strangeness of their serving maid, back into reality. “Listen you,” the one by the door said. “We've got a lot to do. Get on out of 'ere.”

Emma bobbed another curtsy. “As you like it.” And she was gone.

Through the door she could hear the men yelling at Belle. “Whatsa matter with you now? Yer not getting sick on us, are you?”

Belle's coughs petered out with a few feeble clearings of her throat. “It must have been the rain.”

 

Bottomley rode like the devil himself was on his tail. He sailed through villages big and small, pushing his horse nearly to exhaustion. If he hadn't been convinced of the urgency of his task when he left, he certainly was by the time he arrived at Westonbirt. The hard, unrelenting pace of his ride had slowly pushed him further and further into a state of panic, until he was certain that the very fate of the world depended on his reaching the duke.

Sliding off his horse onto wobbly legs, he ran into the house, gasping for breath and shouting, “Yer grace! Yer grace!”

Norwood appeared instantly, ready to upbraid Bottomley for his complete lack of decorum, not to mention his use of the front door. “Where is his grace?” Bottomley gasped, clutching Norwood's shirtfront. “Where is he?”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Norwood bit out. “It's hardly seemly—”

“Where is he?” Bottomley demanded, shaking the butler.

“Good God, man, what is wrong?”

“It's her grace. She's in danger. Terrible, terrible danger.”

Norwood paled. “He's gone to London.”

Bottomley gasped. “Lord help us all.” Infused with the urgency of his mission, he drew himself up tall. “Norwood, I need a fresh horse,” he said in quite the most imperious tone he had ever used.

“At once.” Norwood himself dashed out to the stables, and five minutes later Bottomley was on his way back to London.

Chapter 24

E
mma strode down the hall and barged into Shipton and Ames's room. “I found her. She's in room number seven.”

“Does she look all right?” Ames asked quickly.

Emma nodded. “She hasn't been hurt. Yet.” She took a breath and tried to still the nervous churning of her stomach. “But there are two awful men guarding her. We have to get her out of that room.”

“Maybe we ought to wait for his grace to arrive,” Shipton suggested hopefully.

“We haven't got time.” Emma wrung her hands together as she paced the room. “I think that she's been kidnapped by Woodside.”

At Ames and Shipton's blank looks, she said, “It's a rather long story, but he's somewhat obsessed with Belle, and I think he may want revenge against our family. I—I insulted him once.” Emma gulped as she remembered how she had laughed in Woodside's face when he had said he would marry Belle. And there was no doubt that he was furious over the loss of the gambling voucher. Ned had accused him of trying to collect the debt twice, and he had been publicly humiliated. That surely stung even more than the loss of the money. The more Emma thought about it, the more worried she became. “We've got to get her before he arrives.”

“But how?” Shipton asked. “Ames 'n me, we're not as
strong as those thugs.”

“And they have pistols,” Emma put in. “We're going to have to outwit them.”

The two footmen looked at her expectantly. Emma swallowed nervously. “There was an open window,” she said. She rushed to the window, threw it open, and stuck her head outside. “There's a ledge,” she said excitedly.

“Dear God, yer grace,” Ames said, horrified. “You can't mean to—”

“There is no other way to get into the room when the men aren't there to let me in. I don't have any choice. And the ledge isn't too narrow.”