An Impetuous Miss (20 page)

“
Out with it, man!” cried Hazelforth impatiently.

“
Well,” Tom pronounced self-importantly, looking about at the rapt faces of his audience, “it was none other than our Mr. Snagworth of Sparrowell Hall!”

“
Snagworth!” cried Eveline.

“
The very one,” Tom concurred with a significant nod.

“
Fetch me a horse,” Hazelforth commanded.

****

Sleep had, at last, overcome Cat for several hours. When the carriage finally did come to a halt, it was beginning to grow dark once again, and Cat, though still feigning unconsciousness, was considerably more clearheaded than she had been earlier and surmised that the effects of the drug had worn off. When Mr. D'Ashley now attempted to rouse her from her supposed stupor, she perversely remained limp, and noted with a good deal of satisfaction that the villain was forced to grunt and strain as he awkwardly attempted to remove her (and the accompanying fifteen or twenty yards of shifting fabric of her costume) from the carriage. He succeeded at last, however, and tossed her unceremoniously over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

“
Zounds, Jeff, you haven't kilt her have you?” came a familiar voice through the darkness. Could it possibly be Snagworth? One swift glance beneath her lowered lids confirmed her conjecture. In light of past behavior, his complicity, at least, did not surprise Cat, although the vindication of her earlier suspicions was hardly rewarding at this point. She did wonder, however, how he came to know Mr. D'Ashley. This she soon discovered.

“
Never fear, Uncle,” returned her captor with a grunt as he shifted her weight, “she'll sleep it off before long.”

“
Who's this other one?” Snagworth asked testily, jerking his head at the white-faced parlor maid.

“
Ah, yes, Audrey. My artful accomplice. You must remember my uncle, Mr. Snagworth.”

“
Mr. Snagworth? Your uncle? Why, Jeff, you've not been straight with me, and that's a fact!” came Audrey's querulous voice. “Why, you told me you was a lord's son, disinherited though you was, and I'm for certain sure our Mr. Snagworth here ain't got no ounce of noble blood in him.”

“
Shut her up or make her useful, Jeff,” Snagworth snarled. “Now where's them dogs?”

“
Up there.” Peeking again through partially closed eyes, Cat could see Snagworth remove a basket, intricately secured with all manner of ropes and twine, from the top of the carriage. “Careful of those boys, Uncle. They've got a set of vicious teeth on them.”

“
I know all about them devils, Jeff. It'll be a pleasure to take off an ear or two should we need to make our guest a little more open to our schemes.”

“
Oh, Jeff,” wailed Audrey, who had grown quite attached to the little dogs in spite of their naughtiness, “you never said nothing about that.”

“
Quiet,” he snarled at her, and she began to weep noisily. Cat, whose apprehensions were now even more severe, felt herself being conveyed into a building. From her vantage point she could see only the carpet and lower portions of the furnishings, but she soon realized with a mixture of relief and outrage that she had been brought home once again to her beloved Sparrowell Hall.

“
Where shall I put her down, Uncle?” D'Ashley called out indistinctly, for a good deal of the slippery fabric of Cat's gown had by now bunched itself up in front of his mouth.

“
Lock her and them hateful dogs in the library. We've got some talking to do, boy. Can this one watch her?” Snagworth asked in disparaging tones.

“
Audrey will do anything I ask her, won't you, love?” D'Ashley returned with an insinuating laugh. “Don't worry, Uncle.

Soon Cat heard the doors to the library open and suppressed a groan as she was dumped heavily onto a leather sofa.

“Here now, Audrey,” came D'Ashley's voice, “you keep good watch on her. Now, hold on to this musket. If she tries anything, fire it up into the ceiling.”

Audrey took the musket with quaking hands as the men made their way out. As soon as the key could be heard in the door, however, Audrey placed the musket on the table beside her and wiped her hands anxiously on her skirts. Then she knelt down by the basket.

“Are you all right, boys?” Audrey whispered uncertainly. “You know I'd set you free if I could, but if they ever found me out, they'd have my head on a platter and no mistake.” She patted the basket apprehensively and made some comforting noises before dissolving once again into extravagant weeping.

Cat lay still, thinking for some time. It was clear that she was in some danger. Moreover, the likeli
hood of her abduction being discovered early on was exceedingly remote, as was the possibility that anyone would fathom the destination of her captors. It was also true that neither Snagworth nor his nephew had taken any trouble to lower their voices so, except for the conspirators, she realized she must be quite alone in the house. In short, a rescue was not to be looked for any time soon. That task, Cat determined with a sinking feeling, would have to be undertaken by herself before any harm could come either to herself or Caesar and Brutus.

She realized immediately that several aspects of
the situation were in her favor, not the least of which was that the men had apparently underestimated their victim and overestimated themselves and Audrey. In addition, Cat not only knew her own home far more intimately than they, but she had also spent much of the day sleeping and was as well-rested as they were fatigued. It would just be a matter of time before Audrey, whose emotions were by now quite spent, fell prey to her exhaustion.

In this hope
, Cat was not disappointed. Before half an hour had passed, the sounds of Audrey's sobbing had been transformed to whimpering and thence to muffled snores. After several minutes had passed thus, Cat was convinced that she must seize on this opportunity to put her hastily formulated plan into action.

Snagworth and his nephew could not have cho
sen a room more suited to Cat's purposes than the library. She rose quietly from the sofa and moved silently toward the massive fireplace. The priest's hole and the passages which connected it to the rest of the house had been a part of the original design of the Hall some three hundred years earlier. Although these clandestine features had been put to but little use during those troubled times, they had provided an endless source of amusement (and mischief) for the children of ensuing generations.

Cat and Cecily had known those passages well, and it was with a practiced hand that Cat twisted one carved rosette below the mantel, and a panel at her side swung wide. As was the custom of the house, candles and a phosphorous box were situ
ated just inside. Her escape route now secured, she picked up the musket and the still-bound basket in which Caesar and Brutus had been incarcerated, entered the passage and swung the door shut behind her. It was fortunate, she reflected, that she knew these passages well enough to forego the use of a candle. The basket and musket were a heavier, more awkward load than she had anticipated, and she did not think she could have carried one more thing.

As she slowly made her way through the dark
ness, she continued to sort her thoughts. Part of Cat's dilemma as she considered her predicament had been her dogs. Where could she put them where they would be quiet, and out of harm's way? She could, of course, leave them for a time in the passageway, but should they happen to bark and be overheard, her plans would be thwarted. As it turned out, the solution occurred to her as she remembered their history of bad behavior. The pantry, she decided, must be the very place for them, for nothing would distract them from laying waste to its tempting contents were they given free rein, and surely they would simply go to sleep once they had eaten their fill.

Cat cautiously followed the passage downward until she reached the kitchen level. Resting her load on one hip, she was able to free a hand. Slowly, she slid a slot backward to peek at the room before en
tering. All was dark. She cautiously engaged the lever which shifted back an apparently stationary cupboard to form an entry to the room. Setting down her burden with relief, she found a lamp and lit it, crossed to the pantry and opened the door. There she saw several meat pies, rounds of cheese, and some fresh custard creams. Surely this repast would keep the little gluttons sufficiently engaged while she went about her business.

Swiftly, she set about freeing the basket from its bonds; indeed Mr. D'Ashley must have been in mortal dread of the little dogs for she eventually was forced to resort to the use of a stout kitchen knife to complete this task. When she finally opened the basket, the sight that met her eyes prompted a most unladylike oath, for not only had the dogs been confined within the basket, but their muzzles and paws had been bound as well. Only fury restrained the tears which Cat felt pricking at her eyes. Snagworth and D'Ashley would pay dearly for this, she vowed, as she set the little fel
lows free, fetched water, and tried to reassure them. She was much heartened to see that the pair responded with resilience, particularly when they happened to spot the proximity of the meat pies, and with some measure of assurance she reviewed the rest of her plan.

Hazelforth had no real assurance that following the road to Sparrowell Hall would afford him anything other than the opportunity to interrogate Snagworth. Whether or not he would find any sign of Cat was another question altogether; nevertheless, the need to take action, to follow some lead, however remote, spurred him desperately on. The Bow Street Runners had been summoned, of course, but to have sat about and waited for their investigation to yield information would have been intolerable for him.

He had taken care as he progressed along the road to question travelers, innkeepers, and various others he met about any encounters they might have had with a party which seemed excessively pressed or secretive. Several thought that they had perhaps heard a coach rattle by at some speed during the night, while others vowed they had heard nothing. At one inn, however, the proprie
tor admitted that just such a coach had passed through, changed horses and gone on its way. None of the occupants had descended. There was nothing remarkable about it, the man professed as he spit into the dust, except for the paltry tip. Besides, the light had been quite dim and he doubted he would be able to recognize the driver again in any case.

This information, while fragmentary and con
veyed with an expression of rude boredom, was enough to give Hazelforth a new burst of energy. Quickly changing horses, he sped on down the highway, endeavoring to keep a rein on his imagination, which minute by minute painted more and more dire scenes of Cat's distress. Again and again he cursed himself for having done so little, to protect her. He should have investigated this D'Ashley. He had had misgivings and ignored them. It was inexcusable, he berated himself. Criminally stupid. As the miles passed beneath him, however, he was at least heartened at the knowledge that one man traveling on horseback had a fair chance of overtaking a carriage, even if it had the benefit of a sizable head start.

He had not gone much further when he en
countered another horseman, similarly intent, proceeding toward him from the opposite direction. As soon as the features of the other were clear, each brought his mount to an abrupt and dusty halt.

“
Mr. Hazelforth!” the rider called out as he reined in.

“
Chumley!” he returned in surprise, for it was indeed the butler of Sparrowell Hall. “Quickly! Tell me what brings you this way?”

“
I've come to warn Miss Cat,” he panted breathlessly. “There's something ill afoot at Sparrowell. These last weeks, I've been watching Mr. Snagworth rummaging around in the papers, receiving mysterious callers, digging up the rose garden. And when Mr. Bagsmith calls, he keeps a close watch on him and wont leave him alone for a minute with any of the staff. Now he's told us all to take a little holiday—all but turned us out, that is. There are those that took advantage of it quickly enough, but some of us have our suspicions.”

At this disclosure, Hazelforth quickly revealed the events that had taken place in the last few hours. Without another word, Chumley turned his horse about and the two set forth together to
ward Sparrowell.

****

Just as Cat was about to leave the pantry, she heard the voices of Snagworth and his nephew approaching the kitchen, and her heart seemed to stand still for an instant. It was well, she reflected after a moment, that Caesar and Brutus were too quietly and steadily intent upon their dinners to sound their yapping alarm, for she was not quite ready for an encounter. Quickly extinguishing her lamp, she stepped back into the shadows as the wavering glimmer of their light approached, and she strained to hear what passed between the conspirators.

“
Well, Jeff,” came Snagworth's aggrieved voice, “you've botched things right enough now. Beefwit! You was supposed to charm the chit, make her fall in love with you, elope with her. Then we'd have had twenty years to find that treasure. I've dreamed of that treasure since I first heard of it two years ago when I come here. But, no. Not only do I have to make a damned fool of myself playing the highwayman so you can be the gallant, but then come to find it's all been for naught.”