Escaping Notice (5 page)

“Then I can only hope your fees will provide you with sufficient
solace to assist me,” Hugh drawled.

With a slight bow, Petre hurried out to begin the tasks upon
which Hugh had so callously insisted.

“
She
ought also to have been accustomed to the care and management of
young children ….” —
The Complete Servant

Helen’s carriage stopped for the night at the Crown and Treaty
in Uxbridge. She had been unable to convince the coachman to return
her to Ormsby instead of her sister’s townhouse in London, perhaps
because she had refused to tell him her precise destination. The
thought of him relaying this information to her family made her
cautious about telling him anything.

So tomorrow, they would arrive in London instead, and she would
immediately inform her sister that she had received an invitation
from their grandmother and had to leave for a visit. Oriana would
understand. Grandmother was the dowager Duchess of Peckham and she
was nothing if not dictatorial. One did not refuse an invitation
from her, even if one had just returned from a ball at Ormsby in
Gloucestershire.

Nonetheless, doubts plagued her. Ormsby had been full of guests
for the ball. What if one of them had found the necklace? It would
be just too mortifying to question them – or worse, to ask the
earl. He would think she was a puddinghead, which she could not
precisely counter at the moment. She
felt
like a
puddinghead.

“They’ve given us the use of a small room, Miss Archer,” Sally
said, interrupting Helen’s dire thoughts. The lady’s maid took
Helen’s cloak and gave a series of rapid orders to the innkeeper
regarding their supper and sleeping arrangements.

Entering the tiny private room, Helen was about to take a seat
on one of the benches near the flickering fire when she noticed
another occupant poking the smoking logs with a stick.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I thought this room was not in use.”

The boy stood up and eyed her with such an expression of
exasperation that she flushed. “Well, it
is
in use, isn’t
it? Who are you?”

Helen’s surprise turned to irritation at his insolent tone. He
was a stocky boy about her height, with brown hair and eyes, and an
annoying degree of self-possession. Pulling off her gloves, Helen
strode into the room, determined not to allow this
child
to
force her out of
her
private room.

“I’m Miss Archer and this is my room. What are you doing
here?”

He gestured towards the table where the remains of a meat pie
rested at the end nearest to the fire. “I’m eating, that’s
what.”

“And who are you?”

“Ed—Ned Br—er, Ned Brown.”

The way he stumbled over his name gave her the distinct
impression that he hadn’t told her the strict truth. Not that it
mattered overmuch. His hands were a little grubby, but he appeared
clean enough overall, and the brown jacket and long pants he wore
were of decent quality. He did not look, or act, like a servant’s
child. Perhaps he was simply travelling to London just as she was,
although he ought to be in the care of a guardian. Unless he had
run away.

He certainly had the cockiness suggestive of a runaway.

“Where is your guardian, Mr. Brown?”

“I’m meeting him in London,” he replied promptly.

“You’re traveling alone?”

“I would have to be if I’m going to join my guardian in London,
wouldn’t I?”

Helen’s brows rose at this statement, but she continued in a
level voice, “No one lets a child travel alone. Who is your
guardian?”

“Mr. Brown.”

“Of course,” Helen murmured, suddenly tired. She dropped her
reticule on the table and pulled out one of the chairs. “Well, you
can’t travel alone. It’s too dangerous. Anything could happen to
you. I think it’s best if you join me in my carriage tomorrow. I’m
going to London, and at least you will arrive there safely.”

“How do I know I’ll be any safer with you than I am on my own?
You could be planning to kidnap me and hold me for ransom.”

“Nonsense. I assure you I can be trusted. I have not kidnapped
any young persons in ages. And I, at least, introduced myself using
my true name.”

Instead of reassuring him, this seemed to produce
disappointment. He turned partially away from her and stared at the
worn carpet, working the toe of his boot into one of the
rapidly-expanding holes.

She eyed him, waiting for the silence to encourage him to
confess the truth. However, before young Mr. Brown decided to
reply, the door opened again, revealing a short man whose most
prominent feature was a bulbous, bright red nose. The man glanced
at Mr. Brown and Helen before his gaze returned to linger on Helen.
Finally, he entered and shut the door.

“The inn’s terribly full tonight,” he commented, rubbing his
hands together. “Not a spare room to be had. I hope you and your
little brother don’t mind if I join you?”

“This is a private room, sir,” Helen replied coldly, not liking
the way he smiled at her without meeting her gaze directly.

“Please, I beg you to allow me to share this snug little room
for a few hours. Let me introduce myself.” He bowed at Helen,
staring at her bodice. “I am Mr. Stewart, and I have the honor of
addressing …?”

Helen ignored his request for introductions and turned instead
to the boy. She very nearly made the mistake of addressing him
formally before she stopped. If Mr. Stewart believed Mr. Brown was
her brother, who was she to discourage him?

“Ned, I’m going to my room to refresh myself. I’ll return with
Sally in fifteen minutes. Be good enough to order supper for us,
will you?”

“Yes, sister,” he replied with patently false meekness.

Helen nodded sharply to Mr. Stewart, hoping he would have left
before she returned. If not, she supposed she could have a tray
sent up to her room, although the prospect failed to excite her. As
she picked up her reticule from the table, a small blue vial fell
out. It was the medicine she used to soothe her stomach when
travelling. It rolled toward the interloper.

Mr. Stewart grabbed it and held it out to her with a bow. She
took it out of his greasy hand and thrust it back into her
reticule, before escaping the stuffy little room.

She wished fervently they hadn’t decided to stop here for the
night.

But at least she would be gone by morning.

“
A
chief part of his duty consists in assisting in the rough work ….”
—
The Complete Servant

Edward Brown-Leigh studied Mr. Stewart as Miss Archer left the
room. The man was really
offensive
, another word which had
recently come into his vocabulary and was already proving useful.
Edward wanted to punch him in his red nose for the way he stared at
the delicate Miss Archer.

“You were lucky, sir,” Edward said when the man turned towards
him. Despite teasing Miss Archer, Edward had rather liked her. She
was pretty and she hadn’t treated him like a sapskull, two
qualities which immediately endeared her to him. He was also tired
enough after walking all day with his heavy valise to be grateful
to her for her offer to take him to London tomorrow in her
carriage.

He did not like Mr. Stewart, however. Or the way his beady
little eyes had followed Miss Archer.

After Edward’s comment, Mr. Stewart laughed, although it had a
hollow, false note.

“Lucky? I agree. It was a lovely piece of luck to find the inn
so full that I was forced to share a room with such a charming
couple as you and your fair sister.”

Edward shook his head and fixed a pious expression on his face.
“Oh, indeed. But what was
lucky
was that my sister hadn’t
the
opportunity
to serve you anything to drink.”

“To drink?” Mr. Stewart echoed Edward’s words before giving
another, less hearty, laugh.

“You saw the blue vial she carries?” Edward shook his head
mournfully.

“Yes. What of it? Just smelling salts or some similar medicine.
All delicate ladies carry such things.”

Edward sighed. “If it was only that ….”

“Only that?”

“We’re going to London to see a doctor, you see. I only hope we
can get there without any more … incidents.”

“Incidents?”

“Yes. I probably shouldn’t tell you about our difficulties, but
it’s been preying on my mind ever since father took ill last winter
and left it up to me to see that my sister gets the care she needs.
I’m only praying she won’t end up in Bedlam, though if another man
…. Well, I shouldn’t tell you our troubles.”

“Bedlam?” Mr. Stewart’s voice squeaked. His ruddy face grew pale
although his blob of a nose remained bright cherry red.

“Yes. You see, my sister is easily annoyed by strange men. And
when she gets annoyed, she has a way of slipping a little something
extra into their drink.”

“
Poison
? Why in God’s name isn’t she locked up?”

“Oh, she hasn’t actually
killed
anyone.” He smiled
reassuringly and widened his eyes to prove his earnestness. “Not
yet, anyway. And fortunately, she listens to me and is quite docile
when I'm present. We have every hope for a cure after we get to
London. We’re going to see a
specialist
.”

Lifting his hat in one hand, Mr. Stewart wiped his sleeve over
his brow. When the door behind him opened, he jerked violently,
hitting the table with his hip. Edward stared at the floor to keep
from laughing at the expression on Mr. Stewart’s face when Miss
Archer entered the room, followed by a woman Edward presumed to be
her maid.

“Oh, you’re back!” Mr. Stewart exclaimed. “I’m dreadfully sorry,
but you must excuse me. Terribly sorry.” He dashed past the two
women who stared after him, open-mouthed.

Edward smiled triumphantly at Miss Archer and was rewarded with
a puzzled look that made him somewhat nervous. A slight frown
pinched the skin between her brows. If she heard what he had told
Mr. Stewart, she might take it amiss.

He shuffled his feet and gazed at the door, wondering if
discretion really was the better part of valor as The Aunts had
insisted.

Perhaps they’d been mistaken about that and he should admit the
truth to Miss Archer and hope for the best.

“
Quietness, in every respect, is of the first
consequence.”—
The Complete Servant

Helen recovered from her astonishment at Mr. Stewart’s abrupt
departure and faced Ned Brown. He was brushing invisible dust off
his sleeves and looking suspiciously angelic.

“What did you say to him?” Helen asked.

“Nothing. I think he had an appointment elsewhere.”

“No, he did not, or he would have mentioned it earlier.” She
held up a hand. “And do not try to gammon me,
brother
dearest. I’ve already spoken with the management and the inn is
indeed overflowing with patrons. There’s scarcely an inch of floor
space to spare. Now, please be honest with me, what did you tell
Mr. Stewart that made him leave so precipitously?”

“Precipitously ….” Ned repeated, as if savoring a new word. He
refused to meet her gaze and stared at the floor, tracing the edge
of one of the thick boards with his toe. “I didn’t —”

“You must have said something. Truly, I won’t be angry if you
tell me the truth.” When he did not raise his glance, she
continued, “I don’t see how we are to take you up in our carriage
tomorrow if you can’t trust me enough to tell me the truth
now.”

“I —”

“The truth, Ned. Please.”

He glanced up at her with a defiant angle to his stubby chin. “I
told him to leave you alone. I didn’t like the way he ogled
you.”

Helen laughed, touched by the boy’s admission. He had a rather
lost air about him that made her want to throw an arm round his
shoulders and hug him, before giving him a plate of cakes. “Is that
all? Surely, you must have said something else to make him run off
in that nervous manner. You did not threaten him, did you?” she
teased.

“Well, I asked him if he had seen that blue vial you carry.”

“My blue vial? Why would that alarm him? It’s just oil of mint
to soothe my stomach when I travel.”

“Well, you see, I rather let him think it might be poison.”

“Poison?” Helen repeated in horrified tones. Images of Bow
Street Runners meeting their carriage in London and hauling her off
to gaol flickered before her eyes. “You told him I was carrying
poison
? I supposed you also just happened to admit that I’m
in the habit of poisoning rude strangers too?”

A gleam of satisfaction lit up Ned’s brown eyes. He nodded, and
then added with a great deal of relish, “And I told him I was
taking you to see a doctor in London. And perhaps to Bedlam, as
well.”

“You told him I was
mad
?” Helen did not know whether she
ought to laugh or cry. She leaned against the table, but before she
could decide, her body quivered. A small giggle escaped.

Ned grinned back and let out a deep breath. “Now you can enjoy a
quiet supper, can’t you?”

She could not help it. She burst into laughter. “You really
shouldn’t have told poor Mr. Stewart those dreadful things, Ned.
What if he goes to the authorities?”

“Oh, I told him you hadn’t quite killed anyone. Yet.”

“And I appreciate your self-restraint, but it might have been
easier if we’d let Mr. Stewart have this room and gone to our own
quarters.”

“This
is
my room. I didn’t want to waste my money on one
of their silly bedrooms when I can sleep right here by the
fire.”

“You shall do no such thing!” Helen replied, appalled that the
boy intended to spend the night curled up on the rug like a dog,
instead of safely tucked up in a proper bed. Then she remembered
the overabundance of guests and the resulting shortage of rooms.
She had been lucky to get the last room, according to the
innkeeper. “We’ll have a trundle bed set up in our room for you.
It’s just for one night, after all.” Helen turned to her maid.
“Sally, please see to it before all the beds are bespoke.”