A Grand Deception (19 page)

"I'm sure you'll be able to pick up the mail coach at the
Dog and Whistle Inn just outside of Weybridge."

"Very well. Then I'll be off." Sherwin was determined to
do this. If his accomplishment could be gauged by his sheer
resolve, he would succeed.

Miss Shrope blinked at his announcement.

Of course he was afraid. His hands shook when he
reached out to take hold of the window jamb. Sherwin
steadied them by grasping the frame tightly. He lifted his
foot and realized he could not move further, as the shoulders of his jacket held his arms immobile. "One moment"
He replaced his foot on the floor and attempted to remove
said garment.

"Allow me to help you." Miss Shrope stepped behind
him, grabbed the neck of the jacket, and aided him by pulling his arms free of the sleeves.

Her intake of breath upon display of his undress was followed by her quick turn away from him. Miss Shrope's full
attention focused on straightening his jacket and folding it
over her arm.

"Before I depart, I must make it known that you are all
that is kind, and I am sure there will be a gentleman who
will value you for yourself. There is no need to coerce anyone into marriage with you." Sherwin cleared his throat,
ending the awkward moment, and returned his attention to
the window.

Before a second attempt, he unfastened the cloth-covered
buttons of his waistcoat for further ease of movement and
pulled the fabric away from his torso. His left hand settled on a pocket, assuring him the small portrait rested safely
inside, which gave him strength to continue.

"Again." He nodded, alerting Miss Shrope as well as preparing himself.

He lifted his foot and grabbed the sides of the window
frame, moved outward in a single effort, and straddled the
sill. Although Sherwin's heart pounded in fright, he would
not allow his nerves to dictate his actions. There would be
no turning back for him.

"There's a shallow ledge under the window where you
should be able to gain your footing," Miss Shrope added,
and none too soon. In a few moments Sherwin would be out
there on that ledge. "Keep close to the building"-her tone
grew more urgent-"and move in the direction of the tree.
Oh, do be careful."

He felt for the ledge under the window with the toe of
one boot, then tested his footing for stability. It was narrow.
The ridge was probably meant to be a decorative architectural element, not to support defiant males who disobeyed
their parents.

He brought his left leg out the window and stood on the
ledge, which must have been only an inch or two at the most,
with his feet spread wide. Once outside he faced into the
bedchamber, and Miss Shrope, who remained trapped inside. Sherwin hoped his actions would not cause her further
problems.

Finding handholds by feel, he slid his feet along the narrow ledge toward the tree. Eventually he came close enough
to grasp its branches and pulled himself toward the center,
holding on for dear life.

The perilous journey was made even more challenging
by his shaking legs, compromising what little balance he had. The boughs strained under his weight, and he realized
his next step could be his last.

Sherwin nearly threw himself toward the tree's solid
center. His cheek pressed into the rough bark, and an earthy
scent filled his nostrils. His hands did not meet when he
wrapped his trembling arms around the trunk.

He clung there, catching his breath and calming his frayed
nerves. A minute later, he stepped down to the heavier limbs
of the lower branches as if he were descending a library ladder. Reaching the last, lowest branch, Sherwin dropped
safely to the ground.

He brushed his hands off, making a cursory assessment
of his person.

Miss Shrope stood at the window from whence he had
come, gazing down at him. "Well done!" she whispered.

Sherwin raised his hands to her. "My jacket, if you please."

She disappeared inside and returned moments later with
his blue garment. She held it out the window and released it.

Sherwin easily caught his jacket as it fell. He waved farewell to Miss Shrope, who returned his gesture with a "Good
luck to you, my lord."

To Muriel's great relief, Aunt Penny had sent their regrets
to Lord and Lady Emerson that they would not be attending
the soiree that evening, even before the callers arrived at
Worth House that afternoon. Both aunts, Penny and Mary,
were concerned with their niece's growing fatigue and
deemed quiet and more rest was in order. They were making a concentrated effort to limit her parties for the next
week or two and to watch for Muriel's improvement.

It suited Muriel very well.

She was in no mood to pretend that she enjoyed herself when all she could think of was Sherwin and his safety, for
by now, without word of him, she had become convinced
he was in some sort of danger. With his disappearance, she
became irritable and wholly disagreeable. All of which was
explained by Aunt Penny as fatigue and overexertion from
the breathtaking pace of the current Season's activities.

The dark circles that rimmed Muriel's eyes might have
been initiated by her early-morning studies. They grew more
pronounced with her sleeplessness over Sherwin's wellbeing.

She had never felt more helpless, or more angry at Freddie for not coming to her aid. He was a man, or so it seemed;
why could he not do something? And Muriel wondered if
there was truly nothing she could do to help locate Sherwin.

"What do you think of that, Lady Muriel?" Lord Peter,
who had made a pest of himself of late, insisted on an answer. "Lord Amhurst absconding to Gretna."

"There's no need for an elopement, I think. He's got a
special license, to be sure," Sir Calvin corrected his friend.

"All right, then. Whom, out of all his ardent admirers,
did he choose, do you think?" Mr. Stanley looked about
him to hear the proposed candidates.

"I am sure I cannot say." Mr. Ambrose turned to Muriel.
"What say you, my lady?"

"I have no idea," she replied rather coolly. "You might
want to check the betting book at White's. I hear that's where
all the important wagers are registered."

Lord Peter, Mr. Ambrose, Mr. Stanley, and Sir Calvin all
laughed.

"And how on Earth would you have knowledge of the betting book at White's?" Mr. Ambrose, who sat with Sir Calvin and Mr. Stanley between him and his rival, Lord Peter,
seemed amazed that Muriel was in possession of a brain.

What would Mr. Ambrose's opinion be of Muriel when
he discovered she was capable of thought as well? Men! She
could not tolerate their company any longer-she wanted
nothing more to do with them. Farewell and good riddance
too!

Muriel wondered if she might impose upon Sir Samuel
again. Perhaps there was something he could do, unlike Freddie, to help locate Sherwin. Sir Samuel, she considered, was
far cleverer than her own flesh and blood.

"Moo!" Susan nudged her. "We have new visitors, and
these gentlemen are about to leave."

Muriel pushed aside her thoughts of Sir Samuel and
turned to bid the gentlemen farewell.

"Lady Muriel..." Sir Calvin remained behind. "Might
you accompany me for a drive in the Park tomorrow?"

She could not, in all good conscience, pass any time in his,
or any other gentleman's, company, when she did not know
of Sherwin's fate.

"I am sorry. I am occupied tomorrow afternoon." Muriel
would make sure she was, for his benefit. She recognized
Sir Samuel's voice; he must have been just entering Worth
House. "Perhaps another time, Sir Calvin?"

Sir Calvin bowed. "I shall inquire when next we meet
and hope for better luck."

Had she learned nothing from spouting untruths? Muriel
drew Susan close by her arm. "Pray find Sir Samuel and tell
him he is to accompany us for a drive in the Park tomorrow."

"Us? Whatever are you-" Susan leaned against the firm
insistence of Muriel's hand, pressing her forward.

"And if you come across Freddie," Muriel added, "inform him that he will also be joining us."

"Sometimes I think you go too far, Moo," Susan replied
over her shoulder.

"I am certain you are correct, Sukey. I promise I shall
reform my ways." But now was not the time.

Sherwin located the village of Weybridge within an hour's
time. He bypassed the main street, thinking he would not
be noticed, keeping a careful watch, thankfully at a distance,
for the Dog and Whistle Inn. He approached the establishment and stepped inside, not quite knowing what to expect.

"Might I inquire as to when the coach leaves for London?" Sherwin could see but not read the signboard on the
wall, which perhaps held some information.

"Lunnun, you say?" The man in a brown jacket behind
the counter leaned closer to Sherwin, which made him
more unrecognizable.

Without his hat, cane, and gloves, Sherwin felt woefully
underdressed to command any amount of authority or respect from anyone.

"If I may introduce meself, milord? Rodney James, proprietor and manager of the Dog 'n' Whistle, at your service.
The mail coach don't arrive until after four, and don't 'spect
it to leave fer near six or so hours yet."

"Oh, I see." Sherwin wasn't sure what he would do until
the coach arrived or until its departure.

"There be a private parlor ready if'n yer lordship is in
need of a place to rest or 'ave a meal whiles ya wait."

"Yes, that sounds splendid." If nothing else, it would keep
Sherwin out of sight. Might he mention to Mr. James to
remain silent if anyone should ask about him? Sherwin decided against it. His request might draw more attention his
way.

He said nothing and followed Mr. James up the staircase
to a private parlor. Sherwin remained there for nearly seven
hours. He spent his time waiting, sitting quietly, pacing a bit, sipping tea, and nibbling on bread and cheese throughout
the afternoon.

At a knock on the door, Mr. James entered with a servant
girl, who piled the empty dishes on her tray.

"The mail coach is 'ere," Mr. James told him. "I fought
ya might want to settle yer accounts 'bout now."

"My `accounts'?" Sherwin stood and had the most uncomfortable feeling. "I beg your pardon, sir. What exactly ..."

"Payin' fer coach passage, fer one thing. An' what's 'bout
the parlor, a private one at that-it costs aplenty-and yer
meal?" Mr. James had lost his prior friendly manner of address. "Yer fancy city wardrobe musta been dear. Are tellin'
me you ain't got the blunt?"

Money. He was asking to be paid. Mr. James had every
right, of course. But Sherwin hadn't a farthing with him.

"Don't thinks I don't know?" He stared hard at Sherwin
with one squinting eye. "A swell the likes of you, showin'
up 'ere, lookin' like ya do? Wiffout a hat? No travelin' coat?
Ya smell of a lad in trouble."

Sherwin gulped, finding it difficult to swallow.

"And whens a couple o' fellows come 'round asking for a
chap wif yer looks, Roddy, I says to meself"-he poked his
own chest, as if he truly were in conversation-"I ain't
givin' the lad upstairs away. 'E might be in the briars, but he
ain't done nuffin' bad. No, I says. So I turns 'em away. Says
I ain't never seen ya."

"I've done nothing wrong," Sherwin explained. Mr. James
may not have had a formal education, but he clearly knew
exactly what Sherwin was all about.

"And this is 'ow ya repays me fer savin' yer hide?" Mr.
James balled his hands into fists.

"If I could only ..."

Even without his glasses, Sherwin could see Mr. James' head angled downward, examining the London-made attire, which must have, if Sherwin had given it some consideration, been costly, indeed. At the time he hadn't given a
thought as to the bill; Freddie had taken care of the details.

"I had-have no intention of leaving without paying. It's
only that . . ." Sherwin wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do. Perhaps Mr. James had a suggestion? "I haven't
any money with me."

"Well, now, I 'spose ye gots somethin' of value?" The
innkeeper appeared to have found his good humor, and a
wide smile returned to his face. "A trade's what we'll do to
settle yer accounts."

The most precious item Sherwin possessed was his lover's
eye, and he could not part with that. His hand slid protectively over the pocket where it rested.

"Oh, no, not there-I be wantin' yer pocket watch. 's
gold, I take it?"

Sherwin drew his watch into his palm, catching the play
of the flickering candlelight on the elaborately engraved
cover. The timepiece had never been of real use to him ...
until now. "You will take this as payment for my stay in
your ... establishment and for passage in the coach to London?"

"Oh, aye, milord." Mr. James nodded. "And the chain, if
ya please. We'll be considerin' that a deal amongst us gentlemen."

"I agree." Sherwin unclipped his small portrait from the
bartered item and handed the gold watch, fob, and chain to
Mr. James. There it was-payment in full.

Fifteen minutes later he was seventh in line for the mail
coach. Sherwin stood behind an old woman clutching a small
brown panting object, which he surmised was a dog, in one
arm; she had her other wrapped around a young, sickly child. At the head of the line were two large men and their large
wives.

Sherwin turned to take his last glimpse of the Dog and
Whistle in the fading light of day. By this time tomorrow he
should surely be in London, and if luck were with him, by
Muriel's side.