Elizabeth Mansfield (19 page)

"Where is she?" His voice was quieter but more dangerous.

Percy's feet came down, and he inched his chair back slowly. "How d-did you find me?" he asked nervously.

Harry walked round the table and grasped Percy's neckcloth in one powerful fist. "I asked you a question," he said between clenched teeth. Pulling the neckcloth tight he used it to lift Percy to his feet "Tell me!"

"What right have you to ask?" Percy said in frightened self-defense. "We're eloping."

"Balderdash!" Harry sneered. "As if she'd run off with a mawworm like you. She'd sooner wed your valet." He gave the neckcloth one more twist. "I'll ask for the last time. Where is she?"

"Th-There," Percy choked out, pointing to a door to his right. " 'S a b-bedroom. She's sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Harry, in surprised disbelief, eased his hold. "She'd never—"

Percy caught his breath before he began his explanation. "She was screaming and carrying on so loudly I had to do something." He dropped his eyes guiltily. "I put a drop of laudanum in her tea."

"You damnable make-bait, you drugged her!" Harry said in disgust, "I ought to choke the life out of you!" He slammed the shivering fellow against the wall, dropped his hold, and ran across the room to the bedroom door.

"You won't be able to wake her," Percy said. "She'll be out for hours yet."

Harry threw the door open. Except for a small glow from a tiny fireplace, the room was dark. On the bed he could barely make out the shadowed figure huddled under a pile of bedclothes. But he could hear her stertorous breathing. The only, other sounds were the crackle of the burning logs and a tapping at the room's little window.
Damnation,
Harry thought,
it's sleeting.

He backed out of the room and softly closed the door. There was no point in waking her now. Even without the problem of the sleet, it would be almost impossible to get her back to Bath before four or five. It would be wiser to wait for daylight.

He stalked back to where Percy stood cowering against the wall. "You miserable cur," he said, grasping his neckcloth again. "If I discover that you so much as laid a hand on her, I'll run you through with that fire iron!"

"Of course I didn't!" Percy insisted, offended. "What do you take me for? I was going to marry her!"

"Yes, marry her whether she wanted to or not. You planned all this, didn't you? A scheme to keep her out all night so that she'd
have
to marry you! I ought to run you through anyway. But I think that giving you a sound thrashing with my fives may be a sufficient lesson."

As he raised a fist, poor Percy lifted a shaking hand to protect his swollen chin. "Not my jaw," he cried. "Not again."

He made such a pathetic picture that Harry's anger died. He released his hold, and Percy slipped to the floor. Harry turned away, threw himself down on the nearest chair, and unwound the scarf from about his neck. "I hope it won't sleet all night," he remarked.

Percy picked himself up. "You've ruined my neckcloth," he whined.

"Consider yourself lucky that it's all I've ruined," Harry retorted.

Percy cautiously made his way to the table. Getting no reaction from his adversary, he sat down. "But do you consider
yourself
lucky?" he asked. "There are consequences for you in this matter as well as for me. Her family will expect
you
to marry her, now, you know. After all, you won't be able to get her home before morning."

"I suppose that's true," Harry said, mulling over Percy's words. A slow smile brightened his face.

"Well, I don't mind. That was my eventual intention in any case."

Percy gawked at him. "You intended to marry her? All along?"

"Ever since I first laid eyes on her. Why are you so surprised?"

"But I thought... are you saying you had designs on her even though Leonard's your best friend?"

"What has Leonard to say to it?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, I suppose," Percy shrugged, "now that she's broken it off with him."

"Broken
what
off with him?" Harry inquired, a fearful suspicion beginning to take root inside him that they were not speaking of the same person.

"Of course," Percy mused, "I assumed she'd make it up with him after she threw me over. I had no idea that you and she..."

Though Harry's mind did not yet grasp what Percy was saying, his innards did. They knew he'd made a terrible mistake. His stomach turned over, and his heart did a flip-flop in his chest. "Hold on there, Percy," he said with a gulp. "It can't be Kate you're babbling about."

"Kate?" Percy gaped at him. "Why would I be speaking of Kate?"

Harry put up a hand, as if to stop a runaway horse. "Then, confound it, man,
who is it sleeping in that room?
"

The bedroom door opened at that moment, and a disheveled, tear-stained figure stumbled into the parlor. The expression on her face showed sheer terror, but at her first glimpse of the new arrival, it took on a glow like a morning sky. "Harry!" she cried joyfully. "You've come to rescue me! I knew you would!"

"Good God!" Harry gasped, wincing. "It's
Deir-dre!
"

THIRTY-TWO

Leonard chose to take his phaeton rather than his lighter gig, first because it could provide some protection against the rising winds, and second because it accommodated two horses rather than the one-horsed gig. Even with a heavier vehicle like the phaeton, two horses were better than one.

As he and Kate waited for the horses to be readied, they discussed some of the possible routes the abductor might have taken. There were really only two likely routes—east to London or north to Gretna. "It's Gretna, certainly," Kate insisted.

"I don't see why you're so sure," Leonard said dubiously.

"Because," Kate answered promptly, "Percy's not the sort to take a girl to London to use for his pleasure. His object is wedlock, not debauchery."

Convinced, Leonard set out toward the north.

Riding into the wind that was roaring down from the north, they could not make good time. It was more than an hour before they trotted past The Red Falcon Inn. Reasoning that Percy must have gone farther before stopping, they went on. Two hours later, having made two fruitless stops at roadside inns, and with the sleet icing the road dangerously, Leonard held a whispered conversation with his man Hawkins. Then he turned to Kate. "We can't go any farther," he said in despair. "I suspect Percy will try to reach Worcester before stopping for the night, and we're not even halfway there. I've slid off the road twice already. The blasted sleet makes it hard for me to see. I'm afraid we must turn back at once, or we may not get back home tonight at all."

Kate could not disagree. In miserable silence they started back. Leonard peered out into the darkness, trying to make out the edges of the road. Hawkins hung out the window on the right, trying to keep the sleet from accumulating on the glass of the lantern, while Kate tried to do the same on her side. None of them had the heart to say a word.

It was well toward morning when Kate spotted The Red Falcon Inn again. "Please, Leonard," she pleaded, "let's stop here for a while, just to get warm. I can't even feel my fingers anymore."

He did as she asked. They entered the taproom, hoping to find someone to serve them a hot drink, but the place was deserted. Even the fire in the huge fireplace was banked. "I'll find the kitchen," Hawkins said, making his way toward a door at the rear, "an' get us somethin' 'ot to drink."

Kate noticed a dim light coming from a doorway to their left. Hoping to find a fire, she went to the door and threw it open. What she saw made her gasp so loudly that Leonard came running up behind her. There was Harry, right in front of them, seated at a table with Deirdre kneeling before him, her head resting in his lap. And Percy, the cause of all this turmoil, standing near the fire fussing with his neckcloth.

At the sound of the opening door, all three looked up. Deirdre gave a glad cry. "Kate! How wonderful!"

Leonard, in relief at seeing her safe, reacted as a mother might when her lost child is restored to her. Instead of embracing the child, a mother sometimes shakes him in fury, with words like: "You naughty creature, how could you frighten your mother that way!" Leonard experienced the same fury.
"Wonderful?"
he snarled. "We've ridden all night through the most punishing winds and sleet in search of you, only to find you calmly sitting there with your head on Harry's lap, and
wonderful
is all you have to say?"

"But you needn't have gone to all that trouble," Deirdre said with a trilling laugh. "Harry came after me, and he saved me, and he's going to marry me, so everything's absolutely wonderful!"

"Marry you?" Kate asked, aghast.

Harry's eyes met hers. They seemed to be pleading for her to understand, but Kate did not understand at all. What had happened here?

"So Harry's going to marry you, is he?" Leonard snapped. "Wonderful, indeed!" He stormed into the room. "I'll show you something wonderful. First, you, Harry Gerard, for betraying our friendship and stealing my betrothed behind my back!" With that he struck Harry a smart blow to the eye. Harry's chair toppled over, sending him to the floor with a loud crash.

Deirdre screamed and ran to Harry's side.

But Leonard paid no heed. He swung round to Percy. "And you, Greenway, for abducting the girl. Take this!" Before Percy could protect himself, he was struck on the jaw again and fell to the floor.

Hawkins appeared in the doorway at that moment, bearing a heavily loaded tray. Ignoring the chaos like a proper gentleman's gentleman, he asked, "Does anyone wish a cup o' 'ot tea?"

"Never mind the tea," Leonard said, motioning him to set down the tray. "I think we've warmed up enough."

Kate, meanwhile, stood rooted to her spot in the doorway, too benumbed by shock to move. Deirdre's news had struck her a terrible blow—a wound that numbs before the pain sets in. She did not yet feel the pain, but she knew she soon would. It came as a great surprise to her—greater than the news of the betrothal itself—that the wound was so severe. She'd been aware that she was attracted to Harry, but she hadn't realized the extent of it.
How could I have been so foolish,
she asked herself,
as to have let myself fall in love so deeply?

Leonard, after surveying the chaos he'd caused, turned to her. "Let's go home, Kate. There's nothing more for us here."

"Wait a moment, Leonard," Harry said, lifting himself on one elbow. "Whether or not you realize it, you are needed. Did you come in your phaeton?"

"Yes," answered Leonard tightly. "Why?"

"You see, Percy's carriage has a broken wheel, and I came in my curricle, which would not be a satisfactory equipage in this weather. So, awkward as it is to ask it of you under the circumstances, I'd be obliged if you took Deirdre home with you."

Leonard sighed. "I suppose I must. Very well. Deirdre, go and get your cloak."

Deirdre got up, and with a last, loving look at Harry, went to the bedroom.

Leonard looked down at the unconscious Percy. "I suppose you'd like me to take him back, too," he muttered.

Harry got up, and both men stood looking down at the prone figure sprawled on the floor. "It would be a favor to me if you would," Harry said.

"Then help me lift him up. Hawkins, give us a hand here."

They set Percy erect, and, with Hawkins holding him up under one arm and Leonard the other, they dragged Percy's limp body to the door. "I'll wait in the carriage for you, Kate," Leonard said, and they carried their burden out.

Kate was about to follow him, but she took one last look at Harry. This man, whom she'd so often thought of as a rake, looked anything but rakish now. His dark hair was dishevelled, the skin under his eye was already turning purple, his clothes were rumpled, and, worst of all, the look on his face was one of abject misery. As she watched, he sank down at the table and dropped his head in his hands. If he was at all elated by his betrothal, he gave no sign of it.

As if she were guided by some outside force, Kate went up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "It was noble of you to have done this," she said softly. "You saved Deirdre from terrible disgrace."

"Noble?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "It was idiotic!"

"Idiotic? I don't understand."
 

"Don't you see?" His voice shook with self-mockery. "I thought I was saving
you"

THIRTY-THREE

Madge managed to keep her secret all evening long, although her agony increased as the hours passed. When Charles and Isabel complained about their daughters' keeping such late hours, Madge made excuses for them. This did not assuage Charles. "One would think they'd hurry home on so cold an evening," he muttered. "I, for one, will make an early night of it and get under the covers. But when I hear those young ladies come in, I intend to get up and give them a good scolding."

The women agreed on an early evening, and they all went to bed. In spite of swearing he'd wait up for his daughter and his niece, Charles fell promptly asleep. Madge, however, could not. The tall clock in the master bedroom struck two, and then three, but there was no sign of Deirdre's or Kate's return. Madge's terror for the safety of her daughter—and her niece, too—grew with every passing minute.

She lit a candle to watch the clock, but hours pass incredibly slowly when one watches the minute hand inch its way round the clock's face. By four, Madge found the wait unbearable. She rose from her bed and, taking her still-burning candle, stole out of her bedroom. She made her way down the corridor to Isabel's room and tapped at the door. It took a long while before Isabel peeped out. One glance at Madge's face was enough to frighten her. "Madge?" she asked tensely. "What's amiss?"

"I'm sorry I woke you," Madge whispered, "but I'm out of my mind with worry."

"I wasn't sleeping." Isabel drew her in and closed the door. "I'm worried, too. The girls aren't home. Where can they be at this hour?"