The Dashing Miss Fairchild (13 page)

Clare glanced at Mr. Talbot, or Richard as she more and more frequently thought of him, with curiosity. What would his mother be like? He had maintained a most proper conversation about generalities all the way, while Priddy had slipped into a light doze next to Clare.

"We are nearing Knowl Hill now,” he said quietly.

Hearing the restrained pleasure in his voice, Clare wondered how he felt about being a younger son and having his brother inherit everything of great value. Although she did not know what the estate bequeathed to Richard might be like, for he had not spoken of it to her since that first brief mention, she wondered.

Knowl Hill proved to be a truly beautiful site, as Clare had anticipated. Somehow she had felt it could be no less. A stately row of trees lined the well-kept avenue that led to the main house. A turning off from this avenue brought them to a cheerful-looking red brick home with an enormous wisteria vine climbing above the front entrance. Clare would have called it a manor house, for there was nothing small about the place, like some dower houses she had seen.

The many-paned windows sparkled, and a flower bed off to one side provided a riot of summer color. It was a welcoming house. Clare hoped that the dowager countess would prove to be as well.

Mr. Talbot exited first so that he might assist Miss Fairchild from the coach. Clare noted with approval that he lent a hand to her abigail as well, a gesture few men might have extended.

"She will think we are mad, to descend upon her with no warning like this,'’ whispered Clare, thinking that if her family knew about this harebrained scheme, they would believe she had taken leave of her senses. One simply did not plunk oneself down upon a dowager countess without so much as a by your leave, not properly, that is.

"It will be quite all right, you know,” Mr. Talbot offered in the most comforting of tones. “I'd not have suggested we visit my mother had I not thought so."

Clare tossed him a grateful glance as the front door opened and a slender woman came out to greet them, followed by a lackey. She was dressed simply, yet fashionably, in soft plum mull with a sheer fichu across her shoulders. Her day cap of ruffled and embroidered muslin was most becoming to a face that, while much lined, beamed a welcoming smile to her youngest son and his companion.

"What a pleasant surprise, dear boy.” She gave Clare an inquiring glance, waiting for him to present his guest.

He performed the introductions with a minimum of fuss and with that gracious charm such a part of the aristocracy.

Clare greeted the older woman with proper modesty and an exquisite curtsy, confining her brief comments to the condition of the roads and the lovely summer weather. One did not chatter. She was well aware she was being studied with more than casual notice. Possibly Mr. Talbot had not brought a young lady to visit his mother since his return.

Over a restoring cup of tea, Clare listened while Richard and Lady Knowlton exchanged pleasantries. Then the older lady sought the reason for her son's appearance, especially with a stranger along.

"Miss Fairchild has a rather peculiar dilemma, Mother. I shall ask her to tell you the story as it has happened, for she does it quite well."

After an embarrassed clearing of her throat, Clare launched into her tale, by now most familiar. She wondered whether to omit the shot fired at the carriage on their way back to Bath, when Richard interrupted at her hesitation.

"I suspect Miss Fairchild has a reluctance to tell you how serious this has become. I can only imagine it stems from her desire to spare you worry. On our return to Bath, we sustained an accident to the coach. While we surveyed the damage, someone shot at her, creating a nasty hole in her bonnet."

After a cautious look at Lady Knowlton, Clare added, “Yes, it quite ruined one of my favorite bonnets, too."

"Shocking!” Lady Knowlton declared in ringing tones, her hand flying to her throat in alarm. “I gather you feel this was deliberate and not the result of a poacher?"

"It would seem so,” replied her son. “You wrote that you attended the Millsham wedding. Can you tell us the direction of the bride? We wish to pay a call on her parents. If she is not involved, we must look elsewhere for the baby's family. There are one or two other possibilities besides the Countess Millsham."

"Dear me, what a predicament for you to be in, my child,” she said sympathetically to Clare. “One attempts to do one's duty without counting the cost, as it were, and occasionally one finds it far more than anticipated. Of course I know the bride's family. The Caswells live just south of Bradford at a place called The Folly. Most aptly named it is, too."

Clare longed to know why, but hesitated to ask.

A twinkle entered Lady Knowlton's eyes as she added, “I shan't explain that remark to you. You shall see for yourself.''

Which put Clare in a great desire to be on their way to Bradford without delay. She waited politely until the dowager countess rose, then, her poise wrapped nicely about her, Clare also stood.

Richard said, “We shall drive on to The Folly as quickly as we are able, then return here by late afternoon. I have the feeling that Mrs. Caswell will not detain us?"

"Quite,” Lady Knowlton said. Her eyes seemed to dance, and there was a naughty little smile curving her lips.

The traveling coach seemed horridly slow to Clare in her impatience to reach their destination. The distance from Bath to Knowl Hill was approximately four or five miles, not too long a drive. From the Hill, she learned it would be another six or seven miles to where the Caswells lived at The Folly.

"What an intriguing name for a home,” Clare said while peering out of the window at the passing scenery. Glancing at her escort, she chanced a smile. “Your mother is a very charming lady."

"Yes. I quite missed her while I was away. She adores my brother's children, and I can only thank your presence that she did not tease me about starting a nursery. She does so with great regularity.” He watched Clare's face with a sharp gaze to discover her reaction to his carefully chosen speech.

Clare could feel her face bloom with warmth at his words. He had an ability to disconcert her as no other. “I expect mothers have that uncomfortable habit. I do not recall what my mother did regarding my brother. I expect I paid it little heed, as young as I was at the time."

The horses had enjoyed their rest while at Knowl Hill. They drew the coach along at a good clip. How thankful Tom Coachman must be that Venetia Godwin was not along today. He could spring the horses at will.

They paused at the White House Inn once in Bradford to partake of a light meal. It was an adequate place with decent food. Fortunately Clare was not hungry and made quick work of her lunch.

The drive south to the Caswells’ house was one of tense anticipation. Clare hoped they might meet with success. But what did that mean, precisely? The best of all would be that one of the Caswells would know where Jane was residing now. The worst was that Jane presently lived with them, which then meant that William belonged to someone else.

The mile took only a short while to cover, and within less time than Clare believed possible they were entering the road to the Caswell home.

The large house presented a neat enough, although most peculiar view. It appeared that a great number of additions had been made at various times, for the building sprouted ells and gables in the most unlikely spots. This assuredly was a folly. There were a great number of children playing about to the rear. Clare wondered if they had company visiting and was loath to intrude.

"I will have none of that,” Richard said firmly. “We have come some distance, and I feel sure Mrs. Caswell will see us.” He offered Clare his hand, then tucked it next to him while they approached the front door.

The housekeeper wore a harassed expression as she welcomed them into the cool, spacious hall. Considering the vast number of youngsters outside, the interior was amazingly peaceful. Which did not explain the housekeeper.

"We wish to see Mrs. Caswell concerning her daughter, Lady Millsham."

The housekeeper gave them a disinterested look, then bustled off to a room across and down the hall from the door. In moments she returned, requesting them to follow her.

They entered a room filled with shadows. Draperies were drawn nearly together, and the remaining sheer curtains hid what view there might have been. Reposing on a gray chaise longue on the far side of the room reclined a faded little woman who looked as though it would be beyond her to lift a finger. Her day cap drooped about a thin, lined face, and her eyes were curiously lifeless.

"Dear madam, I trust we do not find you ill,” Clare said in her softest voice. Considering the number of children outside, she was at a loss to explain the lack of people within.

"No, no, I daresay my days are all of a muchness. You wished to inquire about my daughter, Jane?"

"We do,'’ Clare replied, wondering at the lack of animation in the woman. “Could you tell us where she is?"

"Why,” Mrs. Caswell replied languidly, “she is at Millsham Hall. Where else would she be?” It was the first time Clare had heard a question asked with absolutely no inflection whatsoever.

"With the death of her husband, she ought to be residing at the Dower House. She is not.” Clare found it difficult not to rebuke this woman for her lack of interest or concern for her daughter.

"Really?” replied the remarkably incurious voice. “Then I fear I cannot answer your question. For I felt sure that was where she would be."

"Could you tell us if Jane had a child a few months back?” Clare asked with great patience.

"I do not actually know for a certainty” came the slow reply. “She wrote me that a babe was expected. When I heard not a word, I supposed the birth did not go well. Some do not, you know,” she added with a faint frown. “Not that I ever had such happen to me. I had ten births, all well and growing, thank the good Lord."

Clare tried to keep a serene face in view of the remark from Mrs. Caswell, for it seemed to Clare that the pious conclusion was more of a complaint than thanks.

Mrs. Caswell lifted a dainty glass of rather dark red liquid that Clare suspected might be blackberry cordial, and downed it in one swallow. An enormous sigh was followed by an application of a huge white cambric handkerchief to her brow, as though in utter weariness.

"We visited Millsham Hall recently, and the present earl could give us no direction for Jane. You know nothing?” Clare normally would never repeat a question, but she found it so difficult to accept that a mother could be so ignorant of her daughter's whereabouts that she felt she must try again before leaving.

"Nothing?” drifted back the answer.

Clare met Richard's gaze in the dim light, trying to fathom what he was thinking. Ought she reveal a possible child and heir to Millsham to this poor, indifferent woman? Somehow it seemed to Clare that the less this woman knew, the better. Besides, it looked highly unlikely that she would do anything one way or another.

"Forgive us for intruding upon your peace, Mrs. Caswell,'’ Clare concluded, rising from the hard chair where she had sat during the conversation.

"Quite all right,” Mrs. Caswell replied in the most die-away air Clare had ever heard.

Both Clare and Richard blinked in the bright light of a summer's day when they left the house. Clare turned to look beyond to where at least a half-dozen children rolled hoops, swung, and played at games. “At least they appear to be healthy and normal. Poor woman. What a pity she cannot tell us anything of use. I fear the journey was quite wasted."

"Not totally,” Richard said as he assisted Clare into the coach. Priddy darted a glance from one face to the other, looking for clues to their success or lack of it.

"How so?"

"We know why Lady Millsham did not return to stay with her parents. That mother would scarce be welcoming to any young woman with a baby."

"I see what you mean,” Clare replied thoughtfully. “So where does that leave us?"

"On the way back to Knowl Hill, for the moment."

Clare left him to his thoughts while she softly explained to Priddy what they had found at the Caswell house.

"I can see why it was named The Folly,” Richard said of a sudden.

"Why?” Clare dutifully replied.

"Well, architecturally it is all of that and more."

"I declare! What a terrible thing to say,” she sputtered, trying not to give in to the laughter that bubbled up. She utterly failed, and they shared a delighted laugh.

Once past Bradford, Clare turned her mind to finding Jane, if she still lived, that is. “Mr. Talbot,” Clare said with a quick look at Priddy, “you do not think she is dead, do you? Killed, that is?"

Instantly perceiving the line of thought Clare pursued, Richard immediately shook his head. “No, if she were dead, I doubt if the present earl would be so curious as to her whereabouts, or so concerned."

Clare fastened her eyes on his, a shock going through her as she realized the great danger that Lady Millsham might be in, wherever she presently lived.

"I feel she took refuge when her husband died. Perhaps she suspected her husband's death was not an accident, and sought to protect her son from a like fate? Something must have happened to frighten her recently, however. A peril great enough to force her to place her dear son in your coach, hoping you would care for him until that danger passed."

"Pray that we find her before that danger becomes a reality. I feel as though it presses in on us. Let us return to Bath immediately,” Clare cried.

"I fear it is too late to do so today with safety. I promise we shall leave first thing in the morning."

"I hope all will be well,” Clare murmured, full of forebodings. The pleasant hours she had spent with the baby had increased her affection for the lad. She would allow no harm to come to him if she could help it.

"I had feared that it might be the case,” Lady Knowlton said with a twinkle in her kindly blue-green eyes. She welcomed the two travelers into the drawing room while Priddy hastily went up to the room assigned to Clare to work magic on a crumpled gown for dinner.