Miss Cheney's Charade (26 page)

“George never fails to amaze me,” Sir Peter added, while sorting out the bits and pieces attached to the horses, and connecting the proper lines to the barouche.

Emma watched from a distance, well shadowed from any light. She studied Sir Peter’s face, strongly lit by the lantern. While tired, he revealed strength of character and a certain integrity that she admired greatly. But then, was there anything she didn’t find to like in the man—with perhaps the exception of his insistence that George learn to fence? And even that was not so bad anymore.

* * * *

“I have always wanted to see Winchester Cathedral,” Lady Amelia declared as the carriage bounced along the road into the city. “I read there is a charming little river here, and now I shan’t see it or anything,” she wailed. “I believe I need another cup of tea.”

“Not again!” Swinburne declared, obviously dismayed. “It is but twelve miles from here to Southampton. Could you not wait another hour or so.”

“You’ll not easily find horses to travel that fast,” she said firmly. “I should like a cup of tea. Else I shall be ill.”

Swinburne pulled into the yard of the next inn, resigned to a long delay. It was then he discovered that one of the wheels had a serious crack and urgently required changing. It seemed to cap the trip for him, and he swore violently with total disregard for Amelia’s tender ears.

* * * *

The barouche raided along High Street and beneath the imposing Southampton Bargate about ten hours or so after departing from London. Had they not had the delay. Sir Peter might have made the trip in about eight hours, given speedy changes of horses and not bothering with meals.

A tired Emma searched along the street, looking for something that might offer help or perhaps a glimpse of Amelia or Swinburne. At the Royal George Inn on Lower High Street they drew to a halt. She felt pity for the poor horses, who had most nobly performed for the equally tired Sir Peter.

“This looks like a good place in which to inquire.” Lord Worcester jumped from the carriage as soon as it had come to a halt,

All along their route it was Worcester who had rushed into the inns to inquire if the pair had been seen and when. At discovering that they had fallen prey to a damaged carriage, and that Amelia had insisted upon a meal, thus causing a delay, he had taken heart.

“Couldn’t possibly have made the boat to Guernsey this morning, I’ll wager,” he said with growing confidence as he disappeared into the inn.

Sir Peter handed over the barouche and horses to the ostler who hurried forth from the stable area. He strolled back to stand by Emma, who was blinking in the morning sun and wishing for a cozy, warm bed in which she might drift off to sleep. Now if Lord Worcester paid her not the least attention until she could find a shadowy corner, she just might scrape through this.

“We have come to the end of the line,” he observed.

“I hope they did
not
make the boat to Guernsey. If she went reluctantly, she may have found reasons for delay—like the meals along the way. Emma said she can be perverse when she wants.”

“Emma seems to confide a great number of things to you. Remarkable.” Sir Peter pointed to the door of the inn and suggested they go inside.

More than willing to escape the revealing light of early morning, Emma needed no nudging. She marched inside the inn with promptness that brought a pleased smile to Sir Peter’s face.

Inside the inn Emma immediately spotted Swinburne slouched in a chair on the far side of the common room close to the fireplace. He looked more than disgruntled; he looked utterly furious and extremely haggard, not to mention ready to throttle someone. The sight of the dandy in apparel that was less than pristine and hair that appeared downright tatty made Emma grin. She suspected that Amelia had given him a trying time of it.

“Where is she, Swinburne?” Lord Worcester challenged in a voice that not only sounded menacing but even gave Emma the chills. Worcester made Swinburne’s name sound like something particularly nasty.

The dandy jumped to his feet, overturning the chair in his haste. The fatigue pushed aside, he now looked ready to flee if such a thing were possible.

“She is upstairs asleep, thank God,” he cried in defense. “At least she can’t eat while abed.”

Worcester gave the dandy a confused look.

At her side Sir Peter murmured, “Perhaps you could persuade a maid to show you where Amelia’s room is located. If we could but spirit her out the back door, we could leave Swinburne here to suffer his just deserts.”

Not pausing to wonder why he didn’t do the job himself, or why he asked her rather than encourage Lord Worcester to seek his childhood friend and love, Emma merely nodded and slipped from the room.

The maid took one look at Emma and almost refused.

“I’m in disguise, for you know no lady may travel alone,” Emma whispered. “We are here to rescue a dear friend from a forced marriage.”

Tickled to be permitted to foil the endeavor made by the obnoxious man in the common room, the maid beckoned Emma to follow her up the stairs. Once at the top they quietly made their way to a door at the end of the neat hall.

At a nod from the maid Emma used her natural voice to call to Amelia.

The door crashed open, and Amelia flung herself into Emma’s sympathetic arms. Then Amelia froze and stepped back before bursting into giggles.

“Whatever are you doing in those clothes, Emma Cheney?”

“Chasing after you,” Emma replied while urging Amelia back into her room.

Carefully shutting the door behind her, Emma walked to the window to peer out to the back of the inn. Sir Peter’s barouche, looking a trifle battered but still serviceable, had been set to with fresh horses and waited at the ready.

“Do you wish to marry Mr. Swinburne?” Emma said when she turned around to face her dear friend.

“Not in the least,” Amelia snapped. “That dreadful dandy! I merely wished to bring Edward to his senses. Only nothing worked out as I planned.” She sank down on the edge of a pretty bed and stared at Emma with a vexed expression. “Edward is so obtuse he could be a block of stone.”

“He needed to be taught a lesson and how important you are to him,” Emma replied with caution. She did not want to reveal Edward’s show of egotism.

Amelia brightened. “Do you think he really cares for me? Truly?”

“I do. He has been nearly demented all the way from London.” Emma gave a tired sigh and a longing look at the bed. It was undoubtedly soft and comfortable, and her bones nearly ached with fatigue.

“Well, how do I escape this inn? Not that it hasn’t been perfectly acceptable. The food is excellent.”

“Mr. Swinburne said something about your appetite.” Emma gave Amelia a curious look.

Amelia giggled. “I was perfectly dreadful all the trip. I made him stop for tea or a meal at every town we passed through. I feel certain I exhausted his patience, not to mention his purse by the time we reached here. We missed the boat, and that made him furious.”

“We had best slip down the back stairs and settle in Sir Peter’s barouche.” Emma picked up the bandbox in her role as George, then paused by the door. “Say nothing about my masquerade to anyone, even when we are just the four of us.” She didn’t bother to explain why, and Amelia didn’t ask, concentrating on the matter at hand.

They made a silent escape from the inn, then climbed into the barouche. Once settled, Emma sent a groom to the common room with a message to Sir Peter.

She sat drowsing against the side of the barouche when the clatter of horses alerted her to the arrival of another carriage. Curiosity compelled her to peek around the corner of the hood and she began to laugh.

“Whatever is it now,” Amelia demanded.

“It wanted only this,” Emma said with a tired giggle. “That, unless I am very much mistaken, is Lady Titheridge’s traveling coach!”

Amelia scrambled around Emma to peer at the newest arrival. The door to the carriage opened, and a groom rushed forward to assist the person within.

“Well,” her ladyship declared upon descending from her carriage and catching sight of Emma and Amelia peeking at her, “you had best transfer to my coach, and we shall leave at once. How fortunate we found you. Lady Amelia. It would be a dreadful scandal if word of this seeped out to the
ton.
I propose we visit my country house for a day or so before returning to Town. That should silence any tabby who dares to meow.”

Emma and Amelia exchanged wordless looks that spoke volumes. Not wailing for a second summons, Emma hurried from the barouche, then helped Amelia to descend. She urged her into the traveling coach, then followed as quickly as possible, shrinking into the corner with the intention of going to sleep as soon as may be.

“Shall I tell all to Lady Titheridge?” Amelia asked in a rather small voice.

“I rather expect she knows most of it, but you might give her the details of your trip here. She does enjoy a good laugh,” Emma said musingly.

Half asleep by the time Lady Titheridge returned, Emma watched through lowered lids while her ladyship settled onto the opposite seat next to Amelia.

“It is all settled,” she announced complacently. “The boys will come along later. Mr. Swinburne is off to the Isle of Guernsey for an indefinite stay.” To Emma she added, “George has been called to Sussex. But never fear, I have a selection of gowns for you in the boot.”

“I wish I knew what was going on,” Lady Amelia complained. “Nobody tells me anything.”

“Peagoose,” Emma replied affectionately. “Not to worry about a thing, in fact, the less you know, the better. Rather, you should concentrate on what you intend to say to Edward when you confront him at Lady Titheridge’s.”

The traveling coach moved out from the inn yard and along the Lower High Street until they were once again on the London Road—going away from Southampton.

“Indeed, I will,” Lady Amelia declared. Turning to Lady Titheridge, she began to explain. “You see, Edward has treated me like a child since we were in short coats. Of course I
was
one when we first played together, but I am not a child now,” she said with an indignant nod.

Her ladyship exchanged looks with Emma and winked.

“At any rate, I thought to encourage Mr. Swinburne with the hope that it would make Edward jealous. I did not count on Mr. Swinburne needing money and kidnapping me so I would have to marry the wretch. It is all Edward’s fault.”

“It is?” her ladyship dutifully inquired.

“If he had asked me to wed him a year ago, this need not have happened at all, and so I shall tell him the first chance I have!”

“Oh, I am so pleased that Peter sent me that message to follow him. I would not have missed this for the world,” Lady Titheridge murmured to Emma.

Emma nodded her agreement, although most muted, and promptly dozed off.

Chapter Fifteen

“You slept the entire way to Under Petersbridge and right up to this house,” Amelia complained when Emma woke with a start. It did not matter that Amelia had dozed most of the trip; Emma had slept all the way.

The carriage was motionless, no more jouncing over roads nor pauses for a change of horses. It was that very stillness that had awakened an exhausted Emma. Judging by the sun, it was rising noon. The door of the carriage stood open, and Amelia waited to exit with impatience.

“Well, I had been up all night, not to mention helped right the barouche after we were forced to the side of the road and overturned.” Emma shuddered at the memory of that upset and what might have happened.

“Overturned! You never said a word about that,” Amelia said with an accusing look. “Nor have you completely explained about your odd attire. I must say, those pantaloons are most shocking.”

“It was all terribly involved. And explanations take too long,” Emma said, still not quite awake and yawning hugely. She much preferred a good night’s sleep in her own bed, or at least one where she was not disturbed.

Lady Titheridge had paused patiently before her door and now beckoned to the girls. “Come, you must have a bite to eat, then a bath, and after that you may rest again if you please.”

Amelia gave Emma a look that said she would demand details later on, then turned to leave.

They climbed down the traveling coach and stretched as much as was proper for young ladies. Emma gazed appreciatively at the pretty manor house of warm red brick with mullioned windows and a large oak door with the typical Tudor arch.

A lovely garden full of pinks, wallflowers, and Canterbury bells bloomed to either side of the brick walk. A wisteria vine now past its bloom clung to a far wall with a pretty cascade of delicate greenery.

Over the entry door initials had been incised many years before. It read, “C.T. & J.T. 1692.” Emma rather liked that little touch. The first owners of this home must have felt great pride in it one hundred and twenty-three years ago. It was a house of immense charm and seemed most welcoming to a weary traveler.

“Hurry, hurry,” insisted her ladyship. “You want to change from your clothing before the boys arrive.”

Emma grinned at the thought of Sir Peter being called a boy. Anyone less to be considered a boy she could not imagine. But it would never do for them to see her in her garb as George ... at least Lord Worcester. It was bad enough that Amelia might blurt out something at an inauspicious moment. She ran ahead to present the matter to her ladyship.

Lady Titheridge convinced Amelia that Emma had donned a man’s clothing so she might pursue Amelia with Sir Peter and Edward and not fear censure. Amelia understood that threat immediately. Emma trailed her friend into the house while wondering how this would all work out without a disaster of some sort.

The muted gray slate floor was clean and crisp in appearance, and the soft brown of the oak paneling offered intricate carving and interesting shadows. A long-case clock off to one side chimed the hour of twelve.

Lady Titheridge again fussed at them, urging the girls up the staircase with its carved newels, pierced balustrading, and rich carving. There was an air of dignity and spaciousness in the entry and stairs that greatly appealed to Emma.