A Sisterly Regard (18 page)

"I want to help you. It's just that..."

"I understand, Lord Everingham. You care more for your
mother than you do for me. And you were so convincing when you swore
eternal devotion." Again she reached tentatively to touch his hand. And
sniffed.

"Oh, please, Chloe. Do not cry again. Please." He captured her
hands and put them to his lips.

Chloe found the soft pressure of his mouth pleasant, but vaguely
disappointing. Surely she should be thrilled.

He tightened his clasp. "Confound it, I'll do it!"

"You will? You really will?"

"Yes. But I must fetch my coach and prepare for the trip." His
voice strengthened.

Now that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the
near-darkness inside the hackney, she could see that his chin had gone up and
his shoulders back. He was determined, at least. But would he be able to
carry through with such a daring plan?

"How will you obtain your coach without your mother
knowing? How will you explain your absence?"

She rather imagined that he would have strutted had be been
elsewhere. "My mother knows that I plan an early start tomorrow--no, it
is today, now. I will visit a friend of mine in Hertsfordshire, and attend a
mill the day after tomorrow. She will not be surprised if I take the coach,
rather than my curricle. And Smith, my groom, will drive us if I bribe him
to do so."

"Oh, marvelous. What shall I do while you are fetching your
coach?"

"You will remain in this hackney. I shall require him to take you
toward the edge of town. You will be perfectly safe, since I intend to
reward him amply for his cooperation." Now that he was in command of
the situation, Lord Everingham showed surprising enterprise.

When Chloe said, with a melting look, "Oh Jeremy, you are so
clever," his chest expanded and his chin went up a notch. She leaned
forward and kissed his cheek, finding the action not at all
unpleasant.

Their hastily made plans were carried out forthwith. It was
scarce four o'clock in the morning when the elegant coach belonging to
the Earl of Everingham met an anonymous hackney on the north side of
Regents Park.

Phaedra was busy all morning, having fallen behind in her
correspondence with other amateur botanists. Her mama and Cousin
Louisa had gone shopping. Papa was also away from the house, gone to
Tattersall's with an old crony. So when Edgemont came to her with word
that her sister's bed had not been slept in, it was well past noon. By the
time Mama returned home, she and the staff had searched the entire
house, with no success. Chloe was gone. There was no note or anything to
indicate where she had gone, with whom, or when she had
departed.

Upon being questioned, Betty had stammered forth a disjointed
explanation. All she knew, she insisted, was that she had yesterday
delivered Chloe's note to the doorman at a club with a brass plate having
letters that matched those on the note. "I don't read so good, mum," she
wept, when pressed for the club's name. "No'm, I didn't wake her this
morning. She told me not to."

Lady Gifford scolded her roundly for carrying the note, but
shook her head when Edgemont asked if he should let her go. "I suppose I
cannot really blame her," she admitted to Cousin Louisa and Phaedra
when the grateful but still weeping maid had returned belowstairs. "Chloe
can be very convincing."

"She probably bribed the girl" Phaedra said. "It would not be the
first time, but always before what she asked was harmless--extra care with
her garments, or a sweet before bedtime."

"I wish you had told me," her mama said.

"Mama!"

"No, I can see that you would not. You've never borne tales
against your sister."

Feeling guilty as well as angry, Phaedra retired to a corner of the
parlor and picked up her embroidery. She would rather have been out
searching for her sister, but where would she go? After picking out the
same flower three times, she gave up and paced the floor.

After a while, Mama returned with the news that Chloe's
hairbrush and toothbrush were missing, as well as her nightdress, a
morning dress, and the white and pink ball gown. "All of her jewelry is
gone, too."

Edgemont came to the door. "Perhaps a portmanteau is also
missing, my lady. However, the box room is so crowded that I could not
be sure without taking everything out and counting."

"She has indeed run away, then. Where can she be?" Mama's
voice was almost firm, although her lip trembled.

"With one of her suitors, I'll warrant," Phaedra said. "She would
never be foolish enough to travel about London unattended or unescorted.
She has made no female friends, so she must be in the company of a
man."

"But which one, and when did she leave?"

Seeing her mama very near tears. Phaedra knelt before her and
took her hands. "Mama, please attempt to calm yourself," she said quietly.
"We will find my sister, you know. I am certain we will learn she has been
safe ever since she left this house."

Mama sipped tea, choked. When she had done with coughing,
she said, "What if she has been in some gentleman's company
overnight?"

Cousin Louisa handed Mama a glass of brandy. "There is nothing
else to do. She will be compromised and he must marry her."

Phaedra had a terrible notion. "Perhaps that was all along her
motive."

At these words, Mama did burst into tears. Phaedra pulled her
into a close embrace. "Mama, please do not cry. You know how she was
determined to marry as quickly as possible. Perhaps she was able to
convince one of her court to elope. She could have concocted some
outrageous tale of persecution and the poor besotted fool would have been
honor-bound to rescue her."

"Have Betty back in here," suggested Cousin Louisa. "Perhaps
she knows more than she is telling us."

Betty was summoned and questioned again. While the
inquisition was underway, Papa burst into the room.

"What has happened? Isabella, love, are you all right? I came as
soon as I had your note." He enfolded his wife in his arms.

Lady Gifford wiped her eyes. "Oh, George, it's Chloe."

"What's Chloe? Has she again done something to upset
you?"

"She is disappeared."

"What?"

Phaedra handed him a glass of brandy which he immediately
drank down. "Please sit down and listen, Papa." She gave him a gentle
push toward the sofa. "Mama, drink your brandy, too. You will feel more
the thing." If only she dared take a glass of the potent spirits herself, but
someone had to remain calm.

"Will someone tell me what is going on?" Papa demanded when
Mama's disjointed explanation faltered.

"Chloe's disappeared, but no one knows how or when." Cousin
Louisa related how they had discovered Chloe's absence and what they had
done since then.

"We fear she convinced one of her suitors to elope with her,"
Phaedra added, when Cousin Louisa faltered. "Chloe could well have
convinced herself that she would not be permitted to marry this
season."

At first Papa refused to believe that his favorite's actions might
have been less than above reproach. Only when Mama agreed that an
elopement was the most likely scenario did he finally become
convinced.

"What time was she last seen? Did you say good night to her,
Phaedra?"

"Yes, shortly after we came in last night. I did not go into her
bedchamber, but she replied to my knock. That was nearly
midnight."

Papa paced the length of the room and back. "I'll contact the
Watch, ask if a respectable young woman was seen abroad during the
night."

"Perhaps we should send a note to your Aunt Margaret. She may
be able to help us," Mama suggested.

Papa dispatched his note and ordered Edgemont to confine all
servants to the house so they could not gossip abroad. The butler returned
a little later to inform them that Jem Coachman, while searching the
garden and mews for any clue to Chloe's disappearance, had discovered an
unlocked gate.

Papa paced. Mama sat on the sofa and wrung her hands. Phaedra
was taken thoroughly aback at the change in her parents, who were usually
the most calm and confident people she knew.

At least cousin Louisa seemed calm. "Our first task is to find out
who she is with, if for no other reason than to relieve your parents'
minds."

Nodding, Phaedra said, "It would help if we knew when she left
the house."

Papa stopped his pacing. " If it happened last night, then we
might as well wait for them to return," he said, his voice breaking on the
last few words, "for they'll have too great of a head start for us to catch
'em"

"Many of her most faithful suitors may be away from Town,"
Phaedra contributed. "Lord Wilderlake told me he was to attend a mill
somewhere to the north. Mr. Martin mentioned it as well, as did several
others of her usual dancing partners."

"None of those gentlemen were at last night's soiree," Cousin
Louisa said. "She could be with any of them."

The clock struck two. Mama made a small hopeless sound and
Papa slammed his fist onto the desk. "They've been gone at least twelve
hours. We'll never catch them."

Just then the Duchess was announced. When she entered, Mama
wailed, "Oh, Your Grace, I am so glad to see you. You must help us.
Chloe has eloped!"

Her Grace's mouth dropped open and she stared for a moment
before recovering her usual
sang froid
. "Headed for Scotland, I'll
not doubt. The silly chit! I was afraid she would do idiotish, when I saw
how willful she was. Isabella, that one was too often unspanked as a
child."

"I know that, but it is now too late for spanking. What are we to
do?"

The Duchess settled herself in a comfortable chair. "First thing,
stop that caterwauling. You might as well resign yourself that the chit's to
be wed. 'Twould be nice to know the identity of your son-in-law-to-be,
though."

Mama's sobs increased in intensity and Papa pressed a
comforting hand upon her shoulder.

Cousin Louisa related the conclusions they had reached.

"Good God! That does complicate matters," the duchess said.
"No way to know who she's with if all her suitors are out of Town."

"My lord," Edgemont said from the doorway, "here is news. A
stableboy saw a cloaked figure stealing from the mews sometime after
midnight."

Papa went with the butler to question the lad further. The
women waited in worried silence. Phaedra wanted to offer her mama
words of hope, but found none within herself. When Papa returned, all
looked expectantly at him.

He shook his head.

Papa paced. Cousin Louisa embroidered. Mama sat with her
embroidery in her lap, but instead of plying a needle, her fingers plucked
nervously at the cloth. Phaedra forced herself to sit still, although she
wanted to go outside and run as far and as fast as she could. The silence
went on for an intolerable time. At last it was broken by loud knocking at
the front door. Again they waited. Hoped.

Edgemont entered, holding a silver salver, after a few minutes.
"This note just arrived, my lord. 'Tis from the Master of the
Watch."

Papa unfolded it with a shaking hand. "Thank God!" he said,
after a moment.

"What is it, George? What does it say?"

"It seems a young man hired a hackney to bring him here, or
rather to the next street over. The hackney waited while the man
disappeared for some minutes. When he returned, he was accompanied by
a woman, hooded but the driver swears she was young.

"They drove around for nearly an hour, before the young man
was dropped in St. James Street and the young woman was taken to
Regents Park, where she waited in the coach for nearly an hour.
Eventually a coach with a crest on the door met them, and the pair
departed in it. That was around three this morning. The driver did not
recognize the crest, but he was able to describe it well enough that the
Master recognized it." He pursed his lips and frowned. "Everingham. He's
not whom I'd have chosen, but at lest he's respectable."

Phaedra sat mute as the others babbled.
Poor Chloe. She'll be
well paid for her foolishness. Her life will be uncomfortable, to say the least, with
Lady Everingham as a mother-in-law.

The Duchess called them to order after a few minutes of
confusion. "Three this morning. It is three of the afternoon now. You've
little chance of catching her, George. Isabella, I suggest you start planning
a wedding."

Mama's expression was woebegone as she looked across the
room at Phaedra. "Oh, darling, I am so sorry."

"Sorry? Why?"

"Enough, Isabella," the duchess said. "We'll come about with no
great harm done, as long as the silly chit marries. I do wish you will allow
me to send for Reggie Farwell, though. He may be able to assist us."

"Oh, your Grace, how could that fop be of any help?" Phaedra
protested.

"I do not like it, Your Grace," Papa protested. "What is the
guarantee that he will not broadcast the story at his club? I've a poor
impression of that overdressed fribble and do not want my daughter's
escapade to become the latest
on dit
of St. James Street."

"Reggie is a very resourceful young man," the Duchess told him.
"He will not tattle, George, you may rest easy on that score. Fetch a
footman, Phaedra," she said, moving to the small escritoire in the
corner.

A footman was dispatched with Her Grace's hurriedly written
note. Again the family waited, but now the Duchess directed the
conversation along other paths. She related several humorous tales of
minor scandals among the
ton
, and generally kept their minds off
of their problems for as much as two or three minutes at a time.

By the time Mr. Farwell arrived, rain was falling heavily. He
entered, shaking droplets from his greatcoat. As Edgemont helped him off
with it, he was quickly informed of the situation.