Lady Blue (27 page)

For the hundredth time that afternoon, Harmony walked to her bedroom window and looked out over the drive. It remained empty. No sign of a coach. Not since Agatha’s return. Harmony turned her back to the window.

Where had Agatha gone? She had thought, surely, that upon her return Agatha would be bursting with news of some kind. But there had been nothing. Something had to be afoot. But what? Not knowing was almost worse than whatever horrible thing Agatha might have to tell her.

Please, Anthony,
Harmony prayed.
Please hurry.

Hands clasped tightly together, Harmony crossed to her dressing table. Also for the hundredth time that day, she nervously inspected her reflection. Anthony would be pleased, she was certain. She forced a smile to her lips.

The sapphire blue of the suit matched her eyes to perfection. She had pulled her hair back from her face and curled it into ringlets that tumbled down her back. She had her gloves ready, and her jaunty little traveling hat. All the bags were packed. She was ready to go.
More
than ready to become Anthony’s wife.

A thrill of pleasure coursed through Harmony’s limbs. It intensified when she heard the familiar crunch of carriage wheels on the gravel drive.

Her first instinct was to run to the window and make sure it was Anthony’s coach. But it had to be him. Of course it was him!

Harmony flew from her room to the corridor. She picked up her skirts and ran to the stairs and took them, dangerously, two at a time. One more length of hallway, one more turn …

Harmony rounded the corner into the foyer and stopped dead in her tracks, panting.

“Mr. Henry!”

“Miss Simmons.” The constable nodded gravely.

Harmony looked past him to the two younger, but equally grim-faced men who stood behind him. “What … what are you doing here?” she stammered.

Agatha took a step forward. “They’ve come to arrest a jewel thief,” she announced jubilantly. “What?”

“You heard me. They’ve come to arrest your …
fiancé.
“

“No.” Harmony shook her head slowly from side to side in denial. “No …”

“Yes,” Agatha said tartly. “Thanks to the aid of some highly placed people, we have uncovered the fact that Anthony Allen, Lord Farmington, is no lord at all.”

“But that doesn’t mean—”

“The thefts began when he first made himself known in this community,” Mr. Henry interjected. “And let us not forget that it all began with your sapphire ring.”

Harmony couldn’t speak. An abyss had opened beneath her feet. At any moment she was going to fall into, and through, the earth.

“Yes,” Agatha echoed smugly. “Let us not forget. He
claimed
to have found your ring.
I
maintain that he stole it. Then used it to gain entrée into my home, into local society, in order to perpetrate more of his iniquitous crimes.”

Stunned, Harmony felt her jaw drop. Could it be true? Could it?

Her doubt lasted only an instant. A thief Anthony might be. But he had not used her. He loved her. She knew it beyond doubt.

“You just want to ruin my life, Agatha. Admit it!” Harmony cried.

“I want to
save
your life, you foolish girl. Not to mention your reputation.”

“You mean
your
reputation!” Harmony spat.

“How dare you?”

“Now, now.” Mr. Henry stepped between the two women. “There’s no point in denying it, Miss Simmons,” he said to Harmony. “We have all the proof we need.

I’m sorry, but your … friend … is definitely the man we’ve been looking for.”

The full impact of the reality hit Harmony with the force of a blow to the abdomen. “No!”

With all her strength, Harmony pushed Mr. Henry aside and bolted for the door.

“Stop her!” the constable shouted.

Harmony felt rough hands grab her arms. She struggled, but the two other officers held her tightly. She kicked one of them and was rewarded with the sound of a grunt.

“Take her to her room,” Agatha ordered. “The vixen! Mrs. Rutledge, show them the way. Lock her in!”

“Nooooo!” Harmony screamed. She tried to kick again, but the two men simply lifted her off her feet.

Thus suspended, she was carried through the hallways and up the stairs to her room. Mrs. Rutledge opened the door and the men carried her inside where she was deposited unceremoniously on the floor. The men left, closing the door behind them. Harmony heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She flew at the door.

“Let me out! Damn you, let me out!”

Harmony balled her fists and banged on the door until her hands were raw. She kicked. Futilely. Once again, she was a prisoner.

Sobbing hysterically, helplessly, Harmony sank to the floor in a pool of sapphire silk.

Anthony drove until they reached the turnoff into the wood that surrounded Agatha’s home. He hauled his team to a stop.

“You drive from here,” he told the coachman. “And remember. We’re picking up a lady. Please treat her like one. And say as little as possible.”

The man nodded, a serious expression on his round face, and pressed a finger to his lips. Anthony climbed down and into the coach. He tapped on the front wall, hoping the driver would know what it meant, and was gratified when the carriage rolled forward.

Only a few more minutes, he told himself. Only a few more minutes and he would have Harmony safely away. Another hour to return to London and the small, private chapel where a few of his closest friends awaited. Then they would be united forever. His every prayer would be answered, his every dream come true.

Anthony tried to relax for the remainder of his journey, but it was difficult. He found himself on the edge of his seat, literally, when the coach finally pulled into the gravel drive. He was surprised to see another vehicle, a rather shabby one at that, already parked in front of the house. A prickle of apprehension traveled

down his spine.

Not waiting for the driver to climb down from his box, Anthony opened the door himself. He had one foot on the ground when the front door to Agatha’s house opened and three men emerged. The one in the lead raised a pistol and aimed it squarely at Anthony’s chest.

“Put your hands up,” the man ordered. “You’re under arrest in the name of the Queen.”

Time came to a halt. This was incomprehensible. Slowly, Anthony raised his arms. He saw Agatha appear at the top of the front steps. She squinted in the bright sunlight. And smiled.

While the one man held the gun on Anthony, the other two came around to flank him. One of them pulled his arms down and pinned them at his back; the other slapped on a pair of handcuffs.

“And to what,” Anthony drawled sarcastically, “do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Jewel theft,” Mr. Henry replied promptly.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“No, Mr. Allen, I am not. It was you who was out of your mind if you thought you’d get away with your thievery indefinitely.”

“This is outrageous!”

“Shut up!” Agatha, who had been watching from the top of the steps, hurried down the path to stand behind Mr. Henry. “Shut up, you … you scoundrel.

You fiend!”

Anthony forced himself to recover a measure of calm. “Miss Simmons, I’m afraid there’s been a great and terrible misunder—”

“Don’t you ‘Miss Simmons’ me!” Agatha shrieked. “Gag him!
Gag
him!”

“Don’t you worry, Miss Simmons,” Mr. Henry soothed. “We’ve been warned about his silver tongue. We’re ready.”

“What are you—?” It was all Anthony got out before a strip of linen was clapped over his mouth and secured tightly at the back of his head.

It couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t be happening.

“All right,” Mr. Henry said. “Take him to the wagon.”

There was no point in resisting. The two young officers hustled him toward the other vehicle. He was shoved rudely inside and stumbled with his hands secured behind him. Quick as a cat he turned over on his back, not trusting the two officers. As he did so, he chanced to look up. His heart froze within his breast.

“Anthony!” Harmony screamed. She thrust her window all the way open and leaned precipitously over the sill. “Anthony!”

The coach door slammed shut. Harmony was lost from his sight.

Harmony did not think she would ever sleep again. She had lain down on her bed out of sheer, physical exhaustion. She had paced the floor, pounded and kicked on the door, and screamed herself hoarse. She had carried on until sheer exhaustion had felled her. Never had she actually expected to fall asleep. But she awoke, with a start, to realize darkness had fallen. Harmony scrambled to her feet.

“Anthony …”

Where had they taken him? To jail?

Was she still sleeping and tangled in the fabric of a nightmare?

Not bothering with a light, Harmony hurled herself at the door and raised her hands to begin pounding anew. It opened so suddenly she lost her balance and nearly fell into her sister’s arms.

“Agatha!”

“Who else did you expect? Your charming fiancé?” she inquired cruelly.

“Where have they taken him?”

“To jail, of course. Where he belongs.”

“You can’t do this. He’s innocent!”

“Oh, yes I can. And no, he’s not.”

“You can’t prove it! You can’t prove any of it,” Harmony said desperately. “There’ll be a trial and—”

“Oh, no, there won’t be.” Smiling, eyes fixed on Harmony, Agatha shook her head. “That’s what I came to tell you, as a matter of fact. So I could spare you needless suffering and worry. There will be no trial.”

Harmony’s arms suddenly felt so weak she didn’t think she could raise them if she wanted to. “What … what do you mean there won’t be a trial?”

“Just what I said.” Agatha’s smile never faltered.

“But you can’t … it can’t happen that way. It’s not—”

“It’s what some very powerful people want,” Agatha interrupted. “And so that is the way it will be.”

“People? Lady Margaret, you mean.” Harmony’s tone had subtly hardened.

“Lady Margaret’s husband will never let it be known they hosted a common criminal in their home.”

“He’s
not
a—”

“The scandal would be ruinous,” Agatha went on blithely, ignoring her sister. “There’s our family name to consider as well. And
your
honor, Harmony.”

“I don’t care about my honor!”

“No,” Agatha agreed. “You obviously do not. I, however, do. Furthermore, I still hope to see you respectably married one day. No decent man will have you should it become known you were involved with not only an impostor but a criminal.”

Harmony’s fists were clenched so tightly her fingernails cut into her flesh. Unnoticed, a drop of blood fell to the floor. “He is
not
a criminal,” she said through gritted teeth. “And you cannot deny him a fair trial.”

“Au contraire
,” Agatha replied lightly. “There will be no scandal because there will be no trial. Anthony Allen will simply disappear. The story will be put round that you and he had a lover’s spat, and he moved on.”

“You can’t make Anthony ‘simply disappear.'”

“Oh, no?” Agatha’s smile was almost feral. “You underestimate the power of the people who are my friends. Anthony will be hanged at dawn, secretly. Even now, as we speak, a scaffold is being erected within the confines of the Millswich jail.”

Horror clutched at Harmony’s heart. Icy terror held her in its grip.

But her anger was growing. And it was white-hot.

“You
witch
,” she hissed.

“Call me all the names you like, sister dear,” Agatha snarled. “There’s nothing you can do to save your precious Anthony now. I’ve
won.
I’ve beaten you!”

“And it’s what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it, Agatha?” Harmony said with quiet menace. “It’s what you’ve wanted all your life.”

In response, Agatha laughed, a sharp, bitter sound like the bark of a dog.

Harmony smiled grimly. “Well, Agatha, this is

what
I’ve
wanted.”

Harmony put all her strength, all her anger, all her desperate fear for Anthony into the punch. It caught her sister squarely on the jaw and lifted her from her feet. She flew backward and slammed into the door-jamb. Her expression registered momentary surprise. Then her eyes rolled up in her head and she slipped to the floor. Something fell from her pocket.