Byron's Child (22 page)

Jodie’s packing did not take long, consisting only of a change of clothes for the road, her sheaf of notes on the pastimes of Regency England, and the few odds and ends she had brought with her from the future. Among these was the biography of Ada Lovelace. Before she put it into the portmanteau, she flipped through the pages.

There was the portrait of Ada as a child; a bright, loving child but frightened of her mother, she would be glad to escape. She should not be too difficult to deal with, Jodie thought hopefully. Any qualms she felt she quickly suppressed as the book fell open at the sketch of Ada on her deathbed, drawn by her mother, the mother who had told her that her agony was fitting expiation for her sins.

Her determination reinforced, Jodie went to take her leave of Charlotte, who had just gone down to the parlour.

“It is hard to believe you have only been with us a month and a half,” she said, holding Jodie’s hand in both hers. “You have blown through our lives like a breath of fresh air.

“Why, how poetic, Charlotte. More like a gale, perhaps,” Jodie said, laughing.

“Perhaps.” Charlotte’s blue eyes twinkled. “But you have changed things for the better. I wish you really were going to America, so that I could say with some hope, come back and see us again. I shall never forget you, Jodie.”

“Nor I you. You could not have been kinder if I really were Roland’s cousin. Though I had no intention of coming here, I have enjoyed it beyond anything. You will take care of yourself, will you not?”

At that moment Lord Thorncrest was ushered in, an impressive figure in his multi-caped greatcoat, whip in hand. Servants were scurrying about loading luggage onto his elegant midnight-blue chaise. Cook appeared with a luncheon hamper, which Jodie was very glad to see as she had forgotten breakfast.

There was no time now for more than formal farewells. Jodie, Emily and Dinah stepped into the carriage and they were off.

~ ~ ~

Some hours later, in the vestibule at Font Hall, Giles bid Cassandra farewell.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Whatever happens I’ll send Harry back to you in time for the wedding on Monday.” He nearly added, “If you’re quite sure you won’t come with us.” The loving glance she directed at Harry dissuaded him. “I wish you both very happy.”

“Thank you, Giles. Give Jodie my love.” Though it was her own choice to stay, she sounded wistful. Harry moved closer and took her hand.

“You won’t lose my phone number?” Giles pressed her. “If ever you do come home, if you need a job or anything else, just ring me. Jodie and I are very much in your debt.”

“I have her parents’ number too. I won’t lose them, but I don’t expect to use them. This is my home now.”

“Good-bye then. I hate to tear you away, Harry, but we’d better get going if we’re to reach town before dark.”

“Good-bye, and God speed.” Cassandra went out with them and stood on the front steps, waving, as Aunt Tavie’s ponderous carriage swayed into motion.

Giles and Harry anxiously checked the packaging around the Leyden jars. Huge as it was, the interior of the coach was crowded with equipment. They would have been more comfortable riding, but they wanted to be on hand for this short leg of the journey to make sure everything was safe for the longer drive from London to Waterstock tomorrow.

After a few remarks about their final calculations, Harry fell silent. Despite the difficulty of reading his face in the dusk, Giles received the impression that he was nerving himself to say something. At last it burst out, a torrent of doubts as to whether it was possible for Cassandra to be content with this unscientific society, with a world where her own worth would be measured by her husband’s, where all her training was good for nothing.

Setting aside his own doubts, Giles did his best to reassure his friend.

“After all,” he concluded his arguments, “you know Cassandra has thought it out carefully and come to a reasoned conclusion. She knows what to expect and she’s taken it into account—unlike Jodie, who never looks a consequence in the face until it bites her.”

Harry had to laugh. “You are right, I have not forced Cassandra into an unconsidered decision. Thank you, and I beg your pardon for troubling you.”

“Not at all, old chap,” said Giles.

He hoped he had convinced Harry. He had not convinced himself. Cassandra was an exceptional woman, highly intelligent, good-looking, amiable. She had been headed for an impressive career in her own world. On the other hand she was reserved, so self-sufficient she had been, by her own admission, close to no one there. Perhaps she really had found her niche here, with a man whose love filled her need.

How different she was from Jodie, he mused. No matter where she found herself, Jodie would involve herself with people, make friends, captivate the women and attract the men. Look at the way Roland had succumbed, gradually ceasing to notice the exuberance he had found obnoxious at first. And without the least intention of winning him over she had Charles Thorncrest eating out of her hand.

Giles suppressed a spark of jealousy. There was nothing designing about Jodie’s charm and in that particular case it was Emily who would profit by it, as Charlotte would by Roland’s mellowing. Jodie brightened lives wherever she went.

He’d wager that Fifi, the fille de joie at the Royal Saloon, remembered her with kindness though they’d exchanged no more than a smile and a word or two.

The short journey had passed unnoticed. With much whoaing from Aunt Tavie’s coachman, the carriage pulled up in front of the house in Grosvenor Street.

“I shall pick you up at eight in the morning,” Harry said as Giles stepped down. “You know where to find me in case of need—at my cousin’s house in George Street.”

“Right, we’ll be ready at eight. See you then.”

The clock in the hall said half past seven, just time to dress for dinner. Giles handed his hat and gloves to Frederick and unbuttoned his coat.

“Mr. Giles!” It was the butler. “Her ladyship asked me to give you this the moment you arrived.”

Giles took the twist of paper from the silver salver, noting with misgiving that his name was scribbled in Jodie’s handwriting. He unfolded it. It took a moment for the message to sink in, then he screwed the note into a ball and threw it violently across the hallway.

“Bloody hell, Jodie’s really gone and done it this time!”

Chapter Nineteen

“Oh dear,” said Charlotte. “Oh dear, I had a feeling Emily was not telling me everything.” With a frilly white wrap hurriedly cast on over her petticoat, she looked like a ruffled goose.

Giles poked moodily at the parlour fire. “Ever since we came here we have been so entangled in a web of fabrications that I suppose one more seemed like no great matter.”

“Your situation made it necessary,” Charlotte said soothingly, “and you can be sure that Jodie has the child’s best interest at heart, however misguided her notions. She is acting out of pure chivalry.”

“I know it.” He smiled ruefully. “Nonetheless, it’s left to me to extract her from this folly, and I’m not sure how to go about it. The surest way to catch them is to ride after them tonight, but once I reach them, if Thorncrest does not choose to turn around and drive to Waterstock then I shall have to hire a chaise. From what I have heard of hired carriages we might not reach Waterstock in time.”

“I believe they are horrid,” shuddered Charlotte, who had never been subjected to one. “Besides, what would become of Emily? She would be left alone either somewhere on the road with Lord Thorncrest or with Lord Font at Waterstock. I shall have to go with you to lend her countenance.”

“Which means taking your carriage, which means making up yet another explanation for Roland,” Giles groaned.

“Yes, and he will insist on going too, I fear. How we shall account for Jodie going north when you are supposed to sail from Bristol, I cannot imagine.”

“That’s easy. Being unfamiliar with English geography, Jodie confused two ports and told Lord Thorncrest our ship is at Liverpool, which is where we claimed to have arrived, you may remember.”

“Jodie will not like to be thought so ignorant.”

“Serves her right,” said Giles callously. “I need a map, though, to work out what we should do.”

“There is a map-book in the book room.”

By a stroke of luck, the shortest route from London to Liverpool passed not far from Kirkby Mallory. Giles and Charlotte were planning their story when Roland came into the book room.

He greeted Giles, then turned to Charlotte. “Not dressed yet, my dear?” he asked reproachfully.

“I heard that Giles was come and I wanted to tell him that Jodie has already left. Oh Roland, the most shocking thing has occurred.”

“Fortunately my sister left me a letter. She has made the stupidest mistake. It seems she has told Thorncrest we are to leave from Liverpool.”

“Liverpool! Then they have driven north?”

“I’m afraid so. Cousin Charlotte and I have been consulting a map. If they stayed at Waterstock overnight, as they intended, they will have gone north through Birmingham, whereas the shorter way from London is through Northampton. The roads converge at Stafford, however. The only chance is to waylay them there and dash back to Bristol.” Giles could only hope that en route he would come up with an excuse for detouring to find the miscreants at Kirkby Mallory.

Before Roland could speak his mind, a considerably disturbed mind by the look of him, Charlotte distracted him.

“I shall go with Giles,” she announced. “Emily will need a chaperone on the way home.”

“But my dear, in your condition!”

“I am very well, Roland, and it will do me no good to stay here fretting. Our carriage is excessively comfortable, since you were so clever as to have it built with the most up-to-date springs. Indeed I shall come to no harm.”

“Liverpool!” said Roland again, helplessly. “It is at least two days journey. What can Emily and Thorncrest have been thinking of?”

“Young people in love are notorious for not thinking,” Giles pointed out. It was no time to let Roland think either. He hurried on, “I must let Harry know of the change of plans. You agreed that he might go to Waterstock on the way home from Bristol, to experiment with your lightning rod. I hope you will be kind enough to let him go straight there now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I shall write to my steward immediately directing that Lord Font be given every assistance, and you may send it to him with your own message. But Charlotte dear, do pray go and dress.”

“At once, Roland,” said Charlotte meekly.

She did go and dress, but in a travelling costume not an evening gown. She managed to convince Roland that it was his notion to go as far as St. Albans that night, in order to shorten the morrow’s journey. By the time they finished dinner her efficient household had everything ready, the carriage was at the door, and off they went.

~ ~ ~

My lord and lady Faringdale, accompanied by coachman, footman, abigail, and a generous purse, travelled swiftly. With frequent changes of horses, they reached Northampton on Thursday in time for luncheon at the Red Dragon. Charlotte consented to lie down for half an hour, though she did not appear to feel the need. Giles was amazed at her stamina. While she rested, he and Roland strolled a little to stretch their legs and then went to the tap for a glass of ale. The tapster regaled them with tales of runaway couples who had passed through the inn on their way to Gretna Green.

When they pulled out of Northampton, Giles still had no idea how to explain to Roland why he wanted to turn aside from their road to go to Kirkby Mallory. Roland himself provided the answer.

He had grown increasingly uneasy since listening to the tapster’s revelations, casting glances at Matty, the abigail, as if wondering whether to speak in her presence. “That’s all very well,” he suddenly burst out, “but Emily and Thorncrest are not in love.”

Charlotte looked as blank as Giles felt.

“Not in love?” she repeated in puzzlement.

“Giles said they did not consider the distance from Liverpool to London because they are in love, but they are not. Thorncrest simply wants a conformable wife and you may recall that Emily was set against the match at first. Indeed, I almost called it off. It cannot be expected that they should dote upon each other even though I was under the impression that she had come to see the wisdom of my choice.”

“You were under the impression, Roland?” Charlotte picked out the salient phrase.

“It’s my belief that my sister still objects to the match and that Judith is eloping to Gretna with Thorncrest in order to save Emily from him.”

“Good lord, she’s not so quixotic as to marry a man just to save…,” Giles started.

Charlotte silenced him with a look. “She is excessively quixotic, as well you know, cousin.”

“It was obvious from the start that Thorncrest admired Judith.” Roland conveniently forgot any number of contretemps. “I had not realized that he was infatuated to such a degree as to run off with her. The only thing I cannot fathom is why Emily should go with them.” He frowned in bafflement.

“Why, as chaperone of course,” Charlotte assured him. “The dear girl would not want Jodie to be compromised when she was going to such lengths for her sake.”

“Some accident might prevent the wedding and leave Jodie in the lurch,” Giles pointed out, wondering why Charlotte was fostering the illusion of an elopement but willing to trust her judgment.

“Or Thorncrest might harbour less than honourable designs,” Roland said darkly. “I knew him to have something of a rakish reputation, but I trusted that marriage would settle him. I was never so shocked in my life as when he presented our girls to Byron the other night. I begin to doubt that he will do for Emily, even if we succeed in preventing this mad start.”

Giles saw by Charlotte’s look of alarm that this was taking the matter further than she had reckoned.

“I expect there’s some perfectly harmless explanation,” he said. “We’ll find that Jodie did muddle Bristol and Liverpool, and the others simply didn’t take the distance into account. However, in case you’re right, I’ll make a point of asking at every stop whether Thorncrest’s carriage has been noticed.” Of course, he thought, that was what Charlotte had been getting at. It would give them the perfect excuse to turn off the turnpike and head for Kirkby Mallory.