Prelude to Love (11 page)

She knew if she admitted she carried a letter, he would want it to safeguard himself, and her desire was to retain it on her own body. "The message is inside my head," she told him. He turned a shade paler, and looked extremely worried.

"Write it down and let me deliver it. You too carry this message in your head, Miss Simons?"

"Fiddlesticks!" was Miss Simons' answer, given with an impatient, accusing glance at her niece. "Mr. Carlisle has been a great help to us, Nessa, and it is time to tell him the truth."

He nodded his head. "I see. You
still
don't trust me," he said to Vanessa. "I had better travel in your carriage, and bring my pistol along with me." The ladies exchanged a frightened look but made no demur. Carlisle went to his curricle and extracted from under the seat a black leather pistol case.

"It is odd he happened to have a pistol with him," Vanessa said, her brow furrowing.

"Thank your lucky stars he has. You may be sure that villain of a Kiley, or colonel, or whoever he is, has one," Miss Simons answered.

"Lucky I had this along with me," Carlisle said as he came back to them. "I hardly ever carry a pistol, but Edward Rafferty and I had planned a spot of shooting at Manton's Gallery in London. Let us go at once."

He opened the door of the carriage and hopped in without bothering to have the step let down. The pistol, still in its case, was stowed in the side pocket of the carriage, where its bulge brought less assurance of safety than dread that it might have to be used. Carlisle's tiger happily took over the reins of the curricle, and was the happiest member of the party for the next several miles.

Within the closed carriage, spirits were low. Carlisle was naturally curious to discover where the message was secreted. He was quite as persistent as Kiley in the matter. At length Vanessa said, to silence his questions, "I have it hidden under the lining of my valise. It is quite safe. One would have to know exactly where it is to find it. The lining has been glued back over it."

She was becoming uneasy at his hard questioning. Doubts began to assail her as to his trustworthiness, but once she had told him her lie as to where it was hidden, he settled down to lighter conversation.

"I had to know, you know, in case anything happened to you. I don't wish to frighten you unnecessarily," he added apologetically. "I shall do everything in my power to see nothing
does
happen, but it is best to be prepared for any contingency."

"Yes," she agreed, and settled back to try to relax.

"Let us speak of other things," he said, trying manfully to amuse them, but his next speech was hardly one to bring ease. "Is Kiley following us? I hope the constable I sent for has stopped him."

They looked back down the road, where the dust from his curricle whirled into a cloud with that from their own carriage, making the view very murky indeed.

"We cannot very well forbid him the highway," he went on. "Don't worry. I can handle him." He glanced to the bulging side pocket, while Miss Simons fanned herself with her gloves and wondered what she was doing, mixed up in such desperate goings-on. She had not thought of the ball since morning. How very odd!

The afternoon dragged on more slowly than the morning. There was a constant peering out the back window to see if Kiley was coming. With the denser traffic of the main thoroughfare, it was impossible to tell, but when they stopped to change team and take a glass of wine in mid-aftemoon, he was observed to enter the yard not long after them. When they left, he drained his glass.

"Can't we do something to lose him?" Miss Simons begged their escort. "My nerves are on edge, always seeing him there behind us, hovering like a vulture."

"He hasn't
done
anything," Carlisle pointed out. "If he so much as
speaks
to either of you at the next stop, I shall beat him. Or call a constable," he added, perhaps more realistically. Carlisle was well enough set up, but a few inches shorter than Kiley, and smaller across the chest.

"I
know
he will break into our room again tonight," Miss Bradford worried. During the trip, she had told Carlisle of her being hit on the head and searched.

"By God, he won't, if I have to sleep outside your door with a pistol in my hands," he said hotly. "Is there no friend in the area you can go to, as you did the Raffertys last night?"

"No one. He would only make an excuse and barge in after us if we did. Maybe we had best get a fresh team and travel all night," she suggested. She was immediately talked down by her aunt, who raised the same objection as the previous night, with the same result.

"Why don't you let
me
keep the valise that holds the letter?" Carlisle asked. "I hesitated to suggest it when it was diamonds you spoke of, but a letter is another matter. I could have no possible interest in it, except to see it safely delivered. Kiley would not likely look for it in my safekeeping.

"An excellent idea," Miss Simons thought.

As the valise was innocent of anything but her clothing, Vanessa agreed to it. This was the plan set on. He would take the valise, guard it with his life, while still keeping an eye on the ladies from the next room. It was their hope to get three rooms all in a row, possibly even adjoining.

"We must stop in a city, where a constable is within easy call," Nessa insisted.

"That means Colchester," Carlisle said. "We had hoped to get a little farther before we stopped."

"No, I won't be stranded in some country inn on a dark road, away from civilization," she insisted.

"By all means, stop at Colchester. My head will split wide open if I don't get out of this carriage soon," Elleri moaned. "We are certain to get rooms there. If we go past it, there is no saying we will be in luck. We might end up driving through the dark ..." She gave an involuntary shiver.

"Both the Red Lion and the Three Cups, at Colchester, are decent places," Carlisle mentioned.

"I have eaten at the Three Cups," Elleri said, nodding her approval. "They have a fine Renaissance dining room, with a musicians' gallery all around. I wonder if they still have music."

"This is not a social outing," her niece reminded her.

They stopped at the Red Lion, an old half-timbered inn. They could not get exactly those accommodations they wanted. Carlisle had to take a room across the hall, but for the women, a pair of adjoining rooms was hired. When the clerk shoved the register toward them, Vanessa reached for the pen, and wrote "Miss Forrester." With a sly smile, Elleri inscribed in her dainty hand "Mrs. Forrester" below it. "I know what put that name in your head, sly puss." She laughed.

"I just wanted to put some other name than our own," Vanessa said.

"That will be the White Rose Suite, ladies," the cleric said, handing them their keys.

"I'll take up the valises," Carlisle said. "I signed myself up as Mr. Pettigrew. I assume it was your hope to fool Kiley by using an alias."

"Yes, of course it was."

"You had better give me your valise," he reminded her.

"Let me get my nightclothes out of it first," she said, to allow opportunity to rip up a corner of the lining and glue a paper under it, to give an air of authenticity to her story. And where was she to get glue at a public inn?

It was better luck than she expected when the serving wench told her she would bring up a bottle.

"I hope our luck is changing," she said wistfully to her aunt.

"You'll change your mind when you try that bed," was the glum reply. "The mattress is stuffed with sticks and stones."

"I could sleep tonight if it were stuffed with needles. How
tired
I am, and I haven't done a thing all day but sit in a well-sprung chaise."

"We have worried. Worry is the most fagging thing in the world. Worry and pain." She went on to issue several instances of friends whose health and appearance had been ravaged by these twin destroyers. While she complained, Vanessa did what she had to do to her valise, then waited for the glue to dry. She walked to the window and looked out, trying for a glimpse of Kiley.

The inn was built around a courtyard, where horses were being walked to and fro. Behind it was a bowling green. There was an open gallery built around the courtyard, up one story, just beyond her window, but there was no door to reach it from her room. Access was from the two ends of the hall. She would have enjoyed a stroll along it, to take the cooling air, but it would only advertise her presence if Kiley
should
happen to enter that courtyard.

"I'll just leave my clock here with you, my dear, and take my valise into my own chamber," Elleri said. "Change into your light-green frock. It goes well with your eyes. I shall do something to your hair. I
do
wish we had got it cut before coming. I shall do it after we get to Harkmans. I wonder if there are any nice young gentlemen around Ipswich," she added, her thoughts already channeling themselves into the old familiar themes.

"Have you taken Carlisle in aversion so soon?" Vanessa asked. "I made sure his taking such good care of us would incline you to give him my hand."

"That must depend on how he is situated financially. All we know thus far is that he has a place in the Cotswold Hills. Gentlemen more usually have a small hunting box there, you must know. It could be nothing more than a hunting cottage he has. It was the Cotswolds he mentioned, was it not?"

"Yes, how long ago it seems, way last night."

Water was brought up. They bathed the dust of travel from their bodies before outfitting themselves in clean gowns for the dinner with Mr. Carlisle.

"How pleasant to have a quiet evening to look forward to," Elleri said, smiling. "I shall insist on paying for dinner. I'll tell them to put it on our bill. We are falling too deep into Mr. Carlisle's debt. Henry would not like it. Be sure you don't tell him." This was her solution to anything which the colonel would dislike. To keep him in ignorance of it.

Carlisle came for the valise. "My tiger is to stay with it locked in my room while we eat. He is completely reliable. He won't let anyone in." He said this before noticing the changed gowns and refreshed coiffures.

"How lovely you both look," he said. "I will be the envy of the place, having
two
such belles to escort. Shall we go below, ladies? I have spoken for a private parlor."

"You think of everything, sir," Elleri complimented, wondering how she could tacitly tell the waiter to put the charge on her bill.

Vanessa smiled her approval. She was looking forward to dinner with him. He seemed a lively and effectual gentleman. If only she could be sure an even more effectual one would not intrude to spoil their evening. She had the liveliest dread that he would. She was correct.

Chapter Ten

Carlisle considered himself the ladies' host, and seemed intent on being a good one. He had the private parlor waiting, with a bottle of wine ready to be served. He had scanned the menu and suggested for their delectation the ham and fowl, as mutton was too heavy for this weather. Fresh fruit and cheese he had selected for their dessert, which was quickly changed to a richer pastry at the slightest hint.

How he had contrived all this while also making a careful toilette was a matter of interest to Miss Simons, who thought she had the art down to a speed not often equaled by others, but he had certainly outstripped her. On top of it, he did not appear rushed or flustered as he outlined his arrangements. She was convinced no mere owner of a hunting box could be so efficient.

They ordered dinner, then sat sipping a glass of wine while awaiting its arrival. "I assure you the letter is being guarded as I outlined, and that is the last word we shall say of its existence this evening," he promised. "By tomorrow it will be delivered safely to Ipswich, and we can relax, with the satisfaction of a job well done."

"Here, here," Miss Simons approved, lightly tapping her glass on the tabletop. "We must not lose track of each other afterward, Mr. Carlisle. You shall come to visit us whenever you are in the vicinity of Hastings."

"I will certainly avail myself of that kind offer," he told her, then turned to cast a quizzical smile at Vanessa, who had not seconded the offer. "If Miss Bradford does not object, that is?"

"Forgive me. I was wool-gathering. We will be delighted to receive you at any time."

"Do you not think we might be on a first-name basis, now that we are partners in adventure?" he asked. "We shall ask Miss Simons to decree on the propriety of it. Miss Simons, what do you say?"

He meant the question for no more than a formality, but soon learned she dealt the matter more careful consideration. She began ticking off on her fingers the length of their acquaintance—in hours, weighing against this what time to allow for the particular importance of their joint mission. "In the normal way it would not do at all," she said, shaking her head. "Not at all the thing, but then, when we have to speak of spies and fights and calling constables, it
does
seem rigid to be forever saying Mr. Carlisle, or Miss Bradford, though you must not call
me
Elleri."

While he was behind the chaperone's back to refill their glasses, he smiled at Vanessa, a boyish smile that laughed at the antique notions of the elderly. "True, the nature of our relationship must be taken into consideration," he agreed. "Were I to say, for instance, 'Duck, Miss Bradford—there is a bullet coming toward you,' only look at the time I should waste. What should I say instead? Vanessa, I believe, is the name I hear Miss Simons use. You do not hear mine, but if you did, it would be Harvey.''

"Harvey," Miss Simons repeated consideringly. "It has quite a formal sound to it. I think we might call Mr. Carlisle 'Harvey,' Vanessa," she decreed.

"May I call Miss Bradford 'Vanessa' as well?" he persisted.

"Yes, you may," he was told, "but you ought not to call her Nessa till after we are a little better acquainted."

"I hope that will not be too long," he replied, with a bow divided between the pair of them.

Having dispensed with talk of their mutual business, he was intent on turning the conversation toward furthering the intimacy. This met with approval from the chaperone, all of it done quite properly under her own eye, but she missed a few meaningful looks and smiles that passed behind her back.