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BOOK: Anne Barbour
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“No,” agreed Alison faintly.

“To make matters worse, he was with another, er, sporting gentleman, and I recognized him, too. Yes,” she said in response to Alison’s expression of surprise. “He ain’t—hasn’t never been to the house here, but I’ve seen him hangin’ about, asking questions of the younger maids when they were outside polishing the door brass or sweeping the steps. Short little weasel, he is, with squinty eyes.

“Anyway, Mr. Crawford was all grinning surprise when he greeted the girls and their mamas, and after a few minutes of him emptying the butter boat over Lady Meg, she invited him to come along on their visit.”

“Oh, no!”
Damn
Jack Crawford! How dare he try to cozen Meg after he had been warned to stay away from her.

“Yes. Well, there wasn’t room for him and Giles Something—the squinty-eyed fellow—in either of the coaches, so Mr. Crawford says, cool as you please, that he would take Lady Meg up in his curricle. The little minx—begging your pardon ma’am—was tickled purple at the offer, of course. Now, there was only room for two in the curricle, so Squinty Eyes—Morganton, his name was,” said Hannah in sudden memory, “Giles Morganton, Anyways, he says, oh, that’s all right because he wished to return to town anyway and would hire a rig to take him back.”

“But, I don’t understand. Why did you return home as well?” asked Alison with some impatience.

“It was all because,” continued Hannah Finster indignantly, “of that Mrs. Binsham, Mary Binsham’s mama. If you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am, the woman is fat as one of those hippy-potteruses and she’d been complaining from the start of the journey about me being along. Said she was being squeezed to a thread, and Lady Meg didn’t need to be accompanied by her maid anyway, since she and Mrs. Featherstone were along.

“I didn’t like the idea of Lady Meg traveling in Mr. Crawford’s company, but I thought it would be all right as long as I would be following in the coach. Well, I had no sooner started to climb up when Mrs. Binsham says to Lady Meg, You may as well send your maid back to Bath with Mr. Morganton. That way we can all travel comfortably.’’’

Alison muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

“Yes,” said Hannah. “Well, as you might imagine. Lady Meg thought this a brilliant idea, and despite my protests insisted that I return home, and they all clattered off without me. Lady Meg looking like the cat that ate the canary as she tooled off with that Crawford feller.”

“I’m surprised Mr., er, Morganton agreed to this,” said Alison after a moment.

“It’s my belief he and Mr. Crawford had it all planned out, for they exchanged such a look before they parted. Then—if you can believe it—Morganton turned to me and said he wanted to get a bite to eat before we left, if I didn’t mind. Well, I wasn’t about t’be outsmarted by the likes of him, so I smiles politely and says I had to use the necessary house and I’d wait for him outside. As soon as he went into the tea shop, I nipped across the road to the livery stable there and hired a gig to bring me home. Luckily I had the needful in my reticule, and I set off that instant.” The little maid drew a deep breath. “I may be all wrong, ma’am, but it’s my belief that Mr. Jack Crawford is up to no good with Lady Meg, and that squinty-eyed Giles Morganton is helpin’ him.”

Alison did not respond immediately, her thoughts whirling in distress. Jack had been furious at her defection and frightened as well. Desperate for money and terrified of his creditors, he must have searched frantically in his mind for a solution to his problems. Obviously, it had not taken him long to realize that little Lady Margaret Brent could provide his salvation. Good God, Jack meant to compromise Meg, forcing the wealthy Brent family to accept him as a husband for her! Jack Crawford would be supplied with funds for his immediate needs as well as almost unlimited treasure for future speculation.

Not if Alison could help it.

She whirled around. “Hannah, you are a godsend! And I think you may have saved Lady Meg from a very sticky situation. Go get one of the footmen and meet me in the stables. We’re going after them.”

The maid ran from the room, and Alison, pausing only to scribble a note to Lady Edith, ran from the house. Once in the stables, she made a hurried perusal of the vehicles available. Unfortunately, Lady Edith did not possess a curricle, having no need for a sporting rig. Her town carriage was large and heavy, and the traveling coach even more so.

“We’ll take the gig,” said Alison to the bemused head groom. “We shan’t need to bother John Coachman, for—ah, Blickling!” she called to the young footman running toward her with Hannah close behind him. He was tall and sturdy, with yellow hair and round blue eyes that were at present blazing with excitement.

“Hannah explained everything, ma’am,” said the young man, the words tumbling from him. “We’ll find them, never fear.”

Whatley, Lady Edith’s head groom, hitched a horse to the rig in bemused silence, shaking his head as the little group clattered from the stable yard.

“I wish,” said Alison rather breathlessly, “that the gig could be pulled by two horses instead of one, but perhaps since it is so small and light—even more so than a curricle, I think—we shall have the advantage.”

Conversation among the three was minimal as the young footman guided the gig with surprising expertise through the traffic of Bath, soon emerging on the London Road. He let the horse have its head, and it was not long before they left the environs of the city.

It was not for another two hours, however, until they passed Lambridge, that their pursuit bore fruit.

“Look!” cried Hannah, pointing a finger.

Alison strained to look, and saw two coaches at the side of the road ahead. As they drew nearer, a small group of persons could be seen standing about, chattering excitedly. Alison perceived Sally Pargeter in the group and ordered Blickling to pull up. As she dismounted, Sally separated herself from the group and ran up to the gig.

“Oh, Miss Fox! How fortunate that you are come! We have had an accident!”

Alison, ascertaining that no one in the party was injured, hurriedly questioned the two coachmen, who were laboring at the left rear wheel of one of the vehicles.

“Demmed—beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am—dratted thing just up and broke. One of the spokes snapped. Don’t understand it, neither. I’d he willin’ to swear there warn’t nothin’ wrong with it when we left. I’da noticed, sure.” The burly man gestured to the wheel, lying in the road near the awkwardly leaning coach. “Can’t be fixed, neither. We was just about t’send t’other coach on ahead for help, but pr’aps y’could send the youngun there instead.” He gestured with a stubby thumb toward Blickling. “He’d prolly get there sooner.”

“But—” said Alison, looking around, “did you not send Mr. Crawford for help? I do not see his vehicle.”

At this, Mrs. Binsham bustled up, her plump face florid with indignation. “No, nor are you likely to,” she said, puffing noisily. “We haven’t seen hide nor hair of Mr. Crawford—or young Miss Meg— for the last ten miles.”

“What?” gasped Alison, her heart lurching in fear.

“Immediately we set out, Mr. Crawford slapped his reins and that dashing rig of his spurted ahead of us and was very soon out of sight. Scandalous, I call it!”

Alison turned away without answering and, remounting the gig, ordered Blickling to drive on.

“Wait!” shrieked Mrs. Binsham. “You are not just going to leave us here!”

“I am sorry,” Alison called back as the gig picked up speed. “I shall send help back when we have caught up with Meg.”

It was not long before they came to the Bailbrook turnoff and Blickling lifted his hands to guide the horse to the left.

“No,” said Alison sharply, “I do not believe Jack has taken Meg to Bailbrook. I think he will continue on—and so shall we. Keep on the London Road, and we shall soon catch sight of Jack’s ‘dashing rig.’ “

Please God, thought Alison, let them find the pair soon.

With a start of guilt, she realized that, though she was filled with outrage at the thought of what Jack was doing to Meg, her anger was mainly on March’s behalf. Was tragedy about to strike his family again? True, Meg stood in no physical danger, but if she were forced to marry Jack, her life would be ruined, and March would feel her pain as his own. With a surge of desperation, Alison knew that, just as with Susannah and William—and the old earl—she was at least indirectly responsible for this latest disaster. For it was through her that Jack had become acquainted with Meg. March would not likely see this as her fault, it would be simply one more reason for him to wish devoutly that Alison Fox had never left the small, safe village of Ridstowe to blunder into his life.

As the miles slipped by with no sign of Jack or his curricle, Alison’s hopes sank. Jack would be unable to reach London today, but once he reached Marlborough, he could branch off onto one of several other, less traveled roads leading to the metropolis without much loss of time. It seemed unlikely that he would risk a moment to stop at an inn along the way.

Still, she hastily scanned the yards of every hostelry they passed, and suddenly her breath caught. At the same time, Hannah jerked to attention.

“Look—there!” she exclaimed, pointing. “Just outside that little posting inn. That girl in the pink dimity! It’s Lady Meg!”

 

Chapter 21

 

“Oh, thank God,” breathed Alison. For Meg, though struggling in Jack’s grasp, seemed unharmed. So engrossed were the combatants that they apparently were not aware of the approaching gig. Blickling, who had been apprised by Hannah of the facts regarding Lady Meg’s present contretemps, strode up to Jack and placed a purposeful hand on his shoulder.

“What the devil—?” Jack snarled, whirling about Seeing Alison, he stopped abruptly. Meg caught sight of Alison at the same moment and flung herself upon the young woman.

“Oh, Alison! You’ll never guess what happened! This awful man was trying to abduct me!”

At this, Blickling, who apparently felt words at this point were insufficient, threw a punch at Jack and dropped him like a felled tree.

“Oh, my goodness,” breathed Hannah, gazing worshipfully at the young footman.

“Thank you, Blickling,” said Alison unsteadily. “No, do not hit him again. I think he has been properly subdued.” She turned to Meg, whose face was buried in Alison’s bodice and whose shoulders shook with sobs. “There, there, my dear. It’s all right. You are safe now.”

With the point of her toe, Alison nudged Jack, who was beginning to stir. “You unspeakable blackguard,” she said flatly. “To think all this time I have been trying so hard to convince myself and others that you are not a truly bad man. Get up.” She prodded him again and Jack rose to his feet with a groan. He turned a baleful glance on Blickling, but made no move to offer retribution for the bruise swelling on his jaw.

“Alison! I can explain ...”

“Explain!” shrieked Meg, moving to add her own punishment to that of the redoubtable Blickling. In a swift movement, she administered a stinging slap atop the bruise, prompting an inelegant scream of anguish from Jack. “I’d like to hear you explain how you tricked me into getting into your curricle, and then, when I pointed out that we had gone past the turnoff to Bailbrook, you spouted some nonsense about taking a shortcut.”

“Yes,” said Alison, her blue eyes turned to steel, “I should very much like to hear all about this.”

“M’am,” interjected Hannah, gesturing to the little crowd of onlookers gathering about them, “pr’aps we should go inside.”

Alison nodded and swept Meg into the inn, indicating to Blickling her wish that Jack follow. Blickling saw to this by the simple measure of twisting Jack’s arm behind his back and lifting him from the ground to propel him forward.

After the landlord had ushered them into a private parlor at the rear of the inn, Alison turned to face Jack.

“Now, Jack, what is this all about?”

“I
told
you what it was about!” wailed Meg before Jack could answer. “He was abducting me! When I saw that we were actually on our way to London, I pretended to be sick and said he would shortly be very sorry if we didn’t stop for a moment.”

“How clever of you, Meg,” said Alison soothingly.

*’l wasn’t really going to abduct her,” Jack
said sullenly, then ducked as Meg rounded on him once more.

“You dreadful man! If you say one more word, I shall—” Meg raised two small fists in a threatening manner, to Blickling’s obvious admiration.

“Alison!” Jack’s voice held an agonized plea. “Could we speak privately? Truly, I can explain ...” He flinched, shooting a wary glance at Meg. “I will tell you what happened if we could just get out of this commotion for a moment.”

Alison hesitated. She did not trust Jack Crawford any farther than she could throw the sturdy table against which he was leaning, but if he did have an explanation of what he had done ... And, after all, she had Blickling’s fierce protection.

“All right, Jack. Meg, do you feel well enough to travel back to Bath?” At Meg’s vehement nod, she continued. “Then, Hannah, will you take Lady Meg outside? Blickling will wait with you. I shall only be a moment.”

The little group, though vociferous in their disapproval of this program, eventually trudged from the room to the front of the inn. Alison turned once more to Jack.

“Now then,” said that gentleman with a nervous chuckle, “I really had no intention of abducting Meg. At least, not permanently.”

“Of course not,” retorted Alison. “You merely wished to compromise her. Marriage into the Brent family would solve all your problems, would it not?”

“No, that wasn’t it at all,” said Jack in some indignation. “I did plan to compromise her, but as for marriage ... No, all I wanted to do was put Marchford in a position where he would pay a great deal of money for my silence.”

“Good God! You were going to blackmail him?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably and tried out an ingratiating grin. “Only a little. And, it’s not as though Marchford can’t afford the blunt.” He perceived the grin was having little effect, and continued hastily. “Well, what else was I to do? I told you, I am in between the devil and a steep cliff.”

BOOK: Anne Barbour
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