The Dashing Miss Fairchild (12 page)

"Because of what she is, namely the greatest quidnunc in Bath. If she thinks she is to be privy to the scandal she perceives hanging over your name, hiding in your past, or whatever floats about in her mind, she will be eager to see us."

Clare gathered up her light muslin pelisse from the chair where she had tossed it. She had dismissed Priddy for the day, urging her to see a bit of Bath while her mistress took care of pressing concerns.

Clare and Richard strolled along the walk toward Mrs. Robottom's house fully aware of the twitched curtains as they passed various houses. It might have been comical had it been other than Clare's reputation at stake. And possibly William's life.

"Go ahead, knock,” urged Clare as they at last stood before the gossip's front door.

They were ushered up to the drawing room with amazing speed. The lady stood by the window, an indication, perhaps, as to why. “Good morning.” Ice dripped from her words as sure as they hung in the air.

"I believe you know both of us,” began Richard politely. “Miss Fairchild and I have a great favor to ask of you, if we may?"

Curiosity warred with hauteur within Mrs. Robottom. She longed to know what they wanted of her. Yet she was very conscious of her place in local society. Could she actually condescend to assist these people? Of course, she would never know how improper their request might be unless she heard it. Curiosity won.

"Please sit down and explain your problem. If I am able to help you, I shall.'’ She graciously waved a hand to two chairs on the far side of the room facing the windows. She took a place on a settee not far away. “Proceed."

Clare was affronted at the lack of hospitality. The woman ought to have at least offered a dish of tea, or a glass of sherry, or something. Clare toyed with the cords on her reticule, failing to conceal her nervousness.

Curiously this very act pleased her hostess, for it made the elegant Miss Fairchild seem very human.

"First, we must beg your silence on this. It could be a matter of life or death, and we dare not take chances.'’ Richard leaned back in his chair, wondering if they were foolish to hope this woman might hold her tongue.

Mrs. Robottom's eyes fairly bugged out. She urged Mr. Talbot to continue.

"Miss Fairchild has had an exceedingly difficult problem thrust upon her. A child was left in her care, one she feels is in some danger. She dared not contact Bow Street, feeling the matter far too delicate for them."

Mrs. Robottom's mouth had gaped at his revelation and now she nodded vigorously at his words. “Indeed, we all know what
they
are."

"She is trying to locate his mother, and our trail has led us to Millsham Hall and the countess. But the present earl professes to know nothing of the countess's whereabouts, a fact we find singularly peculiar. Do you recall anything about the previous earl or his countess? Perhaps her maiden name?"

"Oh, my. Let the see.” Mrs. Robottom considered the matter at some length before replying. “I believe it was Caswell. Although I do not know where she lived for certain. I think it was not too far from here. Devizes, perhaps. The parents had a great brood of children, as I recall. Kept her mother at home most of the time. The girl's aunt gave her a come out and saw to it she met the sixth earl. They were a charming pair from what I heard. Odd, that he should die so soon after they wed. And you believe she had a baby? But why hide it? Is there something havey-cavey about the affair?"

"Indeed, Mrs. Robottom, I believe there is,” Clare said, speaking for the first time since they had sat down in the enemy's camp, so to speak.

Suddenly aware of the menace in the air, Mrs. Robottom gave them a solemn look. “I shan't breathe a word of this, you may be sure,” she vowed.

Clare could only pray her promise held true. Their next step was to locate the Caswells. Time seemed to press on Clare, suspecting that every day brought William in greater peril for his life.

"I do not know what to say to Miss Godwin about our proposed effort to locate the Caswells. She is not best pleased to have the infant in the house, and I fear she resents my interest in him. I confess that I find her behavior odd at times. Am I foolish to desire this excursion be kept as quiet as possible?” Clare turned to face Richard as they neared her dwelling. She wished to settle their story before they entered the house just in case Venetia had returned while they were out.

Richard studied the young woman before him. Her eyes were deeply troubled, and the grave air that sat on her shoulders revealed her concern for the helpless infant. “Why do you not tell her you travel to visit my mother? She is at Knowl Hill in the Dower House at this time of year. If Miss Godwin inquired, she would discover it to be not too far from Bath and a reasonable drive."

"And if we find we must remain overnight, she would have no cause to think ill of us?” Clare inquired softly. “Priddy will be with us.” Her wry expression brought a chuckle from Richard.

"Come. I suspect you could do with a cup of tea and some of those excellent tea cakes your cook bakes. We shall work out the details while we restore ourselves."

"You do not hesitate to make yourself to home, sir,” Clare teased as they entered the house. Her heart raced at the warm look in his eyes. How strange, to be casually walking into the house like this with him, as though they had done it a hundred times together. There seemed a certain rightness in being with him. Strength radiated from him, and she felt even without touching him that she drew from its source to bolster her own.

She issued orders for tea and cakes to be served in the drawing room, then they strolled up the stairs side by side in great amiability.

"The lad will be safe with the maid?"

Jolted from her romantic musings back to the reality of the present, Clare nodded. “I vouchsafe for Jenny, sir. She welcomes the chance to work here and has a fondness for the boy, I believe. I will caution her to use care."

How silly, to be deep in fantasy while Mr. Talbot dwelt only upon the problems to hand. It served her right, she fancied, the nonsensical wanderings of a spinster mind.

"I suggest you order a groom, or some man from the house, to go with her when she walks out with the baby. One never knows. And if there is trouble afoot, not that I feel there is any real danger, mind you, it is best to be prepared. We do not know for certain that the present earl is directly involved, you know. I feel obliged to point out that there could be another reason for his desiring to hush up the birth of an infant who appeared on the scene after his cousin's death."

"I take it you think she might have had the child from someone other than her husband? I cannot accept there might be an illicit love affair in Jane's past. She seemed far too proper for such.” Clare's eyes rebuked him for such horrid thoughts.

But what did she know of the shy young Jane, now Lady Millsham? A chance meeting, casual sightings at a ball or rout while in London? Hardly the sort of thing upon which to base an opinion. Yet, she would have sworn the girl would never stoop to such unseemly behavior.

"Let us devise a plan for our coming expedition.” Richard sipped his tea, then picked up a dainty cake. It seemed a very domestic scene to his eyes. He had often thought about something like this while in the heat of Jamaica, longing for the humdrum and dear rituals of English life.

He studied Clare while she poured her tea and selected a cake. He probably knew her better at this point than most young men who took a wife. It was unfortunate that society deemed it improper for two people to truly get acquainted—to talk at length, perhaps differ in opinion, exchange philosophies—prior to being wed. There might be a greater number of happy marriages were it possible.

"I believe we ought to stop first at my mother's place,” he suddenly said. “She would know the family, having attended the wedding and all. I feel sure she could give us their direction. She might be able to help us in other ways as well. I've always felt mother had a sound head on her shoulders."

Clare offered him an amused smile. “Why is it men so often seem surprised when a woman has good sense? If we are to manage the household and all that entails, it stands to reason that we ought to know a good deal about running these affairs and more. I do not imply she or any other who does well at that sort of thing is a bluestocking. But men can be shockingly bad at management of their estates. I believe both sorts can be found in both sexes."

"Plain speaking, indeed, my dear Clare."

His eyes mocked her, she reflected. Teasing and mockery were all very well, but she doubted there lurked any serious intent behind them. She took a fortifying breath and plunged into the preparations for the coming visit.

"Since my traveling coach is repaired and ready to go at any time, we may as well take it,” she offered, knowing his phaeton was not the thing for a journey—even a short one. “Tom Coachman is a sensible person, and your man seemed to get along with him. With Priddy joining us, we shall be quite a respectable party."

Her eyes twinkled, and a hint of a smile lingered about her mouth. Then she sobered. “This is a serious matter, and I ought not make light of it. What time shall we depart on the morrow?"

"Depart?” came a high, fluting voice from the door. “Are you to go someplace tomorrow? Where?"

There was more than a hint of wishing to be included in Venetia's voice, Clare realized. And it would be only proper to do so, since Venetia was a guest in Clare's home. Indeed, she knew she would be censured by her family for such wanting manners were she not to invite Venetia along. Yet, she couldn't bear to have Venetia, with her probing ways and nasty little barbs about men, in the coach and along for all the meals.

Furthermore, Clare would have to bear the cost of lodgings and meals for Venetia. She was of a sudden loath to do so.

Richard Talbot took charge of the scene at once. “I have invited Clare to Knowl Hill to meet my mother.” He strongly suspected the interpretation she would give his words, but it bothered him not one whit.

Eyes narrowing with the information, Venetia drifted across the room, her soft boots making little sound. “My, this is indeed interesting, dear Clare."

Annoyed at the coy insinuation ill-concealed in Venetia's tone, Clare sat a trifle straighter, giving her a cool look in return. “Mr. Talbot feels his mother may be able to offer assistance in our search."

Richard broke in at that point. “I would like Miss Fairchild to see Knowl Hill. If it were possible, we should ask you to join us, but I fear my mother's indifferent health makes that pleasure impossible. She has her good days and her bad. A deluge of people might send her to her bed."

"I doubt we shall be gone overlong. Did you not say that Susan has planned a small party at Lady Kingsmill's house at Laura Place? I am sure you would not wish to miss that, especially if Sir Henry is to escort you."

Venetia stilled in her wanderings about the room. Looking back at Clare to study her face, she finally nodded. “Yes, I believe that to be preferable. I detest jolting about in a coach anyway, even though yours is quite well sprung, dear Clare."

"Dear Clare'’ wondered if Venetia had totally forgotten that she had told Mr. Talbot how she longed to travel.

Uneasy about the expression on Venetia's face, Clare resolved to ask Jenny to exercise even greater care, and request Susan to check on Venetia while Clare was away. Silly, foolish notions, she supposed. But the situation for William appeared to be more ominous each day.

"We shall be departing early tomorrow,” Richard now inserted into the conversation. “I had best leave so you can set your plans in motion. I shall stop to have a chat with Tom Coachman as well. Is that agreeable?” His gaze sought hers with a wordless question in his eyes.

Wondering precisely what arrangements he intended to make with her coachman, Clare could only agree to this handsome suggestion. Whatever he had in mind was most likely sensible. She gave an inner sigh, to think she had reached the age when the gentleman whose company she was to enjoy thought about practicality first.

"Well,” tittered Venetia, “I have letters to write. I shall leave you to make all your tedious arrangements. Although you will only be gone a day or two?” Her eyes narrowed in sly speculation again, leaving Clare with the oddest notion that Venetia was not displeased in the least to be left behind.

"I will instruct Cook to prepare your favorite dishes, Venetia. Although I daresay that Susan will be offering a dinner as well as entertainment, so your time will be well occupied."

A smile crept over Venetia's face. “I feel sure it will.” She whirled about and soon could be heard whisking herself up the stairs to her room.

Dismissing her from her mind, Clare returned to the pressing matter of the trip. “Is your mother truly unwell, Richard?” she whispered, knowing how acute Venetia's hearing was. “I would not discommode her with our visit."

"Never tell her I uttered that tarradiddle about her. She has an iron constitution. I believe you will enjoy her gardens, and the Dower House is an attractive place."

Satisfied that they would not prove to be an encumbrance, Clare walked with Richard to the door, thinking all the while about what might prove needful on the trip.

Once the door closed behind him, she rang for Priddy, then began a list.

The following morning, before social Bath stirred, Clare and Priddy entered the traveling coach. Mr. Talbot discreetly remained within, hoping to prevent any tittle-tattle about the departure.

He had joined Tom Coachman at the mews, observing his portmanteau placed in the luggage box under the boot with a keen eye. He noted with approval that the luggage Miss Fairchild intended to take along had already been brought to the coach and placed within. The lady believed in sensible precautionary measures, it seemed.

The road to the south and east crossed the Kennet and Avon Canal, then proceeded due east, passing carters coming to Bath with loads of merchandise and farm produce. It was not long before the coach rumbled through the small town of Claverton on their way south. Tom Coachman was not dawdling in the least. They paralleled the canal a short distance before turning from the main road and crossing the canal once again near the lockkeeper's cottage, just above one of the locks.