Skylark (15 page)

“That’s no problem,” her father said heartily. “In fact, it’s a treat for us.” He and Ned were very alike.

Her mother understood. “They all go in the end, love. Particularly the boys.”

“But he’s so young.”

“And he’ll miss you dearly. But they become dictators if we let them, and it never serves. You go and have your little visit. It’ll do you both good.”

Laura hugged her mother, who meant well and was probably right, but—Lord!—it crashed in on her that she would be leaving Harry unprotected. She believed he would be safe here, but even so, she had to warn someone.

Her parents? Ned? But she knew them too well to think that would work.

Juliet.

“Oh,” she said, “I have all Harry’s things packed. I must undo that.”

She commanded the valise unloaded and carried back into the house, then dug through it to extract Harry’s clothing. When Juliet came to help, Laura looked for condemnation but saw none.

Even so, she said, “I have to go.”

“So I gather. Don’t worry about Harry. He’ll be fine.”

Perhaps I don’t want him to be
, Laura thought, then was ashamed of herself, but his content with the separation was a knife in her heart. He wasn’t even here to see her off.

She grabbed the pile of Harry’s clothes. “I’ll take these back upstairs.”

“No need. I’ll do it.”

Laura shook her head and Juliet caught the hint. She took half of the small pile, and they went upstairs together. Once in the room, Laura dropped the clothing on the bed and explained the essentials as succinctly as she could. She wanted to tell Juliet only about Jack, but she had to say something about Draycombe to explain leaving at all.

Juliet frowned as she followed it. “You truly think Reverend Gardeyne might come here to try to kill Harry?”

Laura put a hand to her mouth. “No. If I did, I’d never go. If Jack’s doing anything other than writing his sermon, he’ll be heading for Draycombe. That’s why I have to get there first, but I couldn’t bear to leave Harry here with no one alert for problems. I don’t
expect
any, but I need you to promise that if Jack Gardeyne comes here, you won’t let him be alone with Harry for a moment, no matter what pretext he comes up with.”

Still looking skeptical, Juliet nodded. “I promise.”

“And don’t let him take Harry anywhere. Not even to church.”

“Very well. But in that case, you know, I might have to tell Papa or Ned.” After a moment, she asked, “Don’t you think you should tell them now?”

From downstairs, Laura’s father called, “Laura? Are you all right, love? Don’t keep the horses standing.”

She opened the door. “Coming, Papa! No,” she whispered to Juliet. “They’d think I was mad, and you know what they’d be like! They’d want to go to the magistrates. I don’t have time for that, and in the end I have no proof. Oh, if only Harry would come with me!”

“Into danger?” Juliet asked.

That caught Laura. “Heavens, you’re right. I’d rather leave him here than with strangers at Redoaks.”

“But what about you? Are you going into danger? Who is this Mrs. Delaney? Laura . . .”

At any moment, Juliet was going to decide that she had to tell their parents herself.

Laura had left out one detail.

“Stephen is helping me. Stephen Ball. The Delaneys are friends of his. He’s meeting me there, and we’re going to investigate this together.”

Juliet’s eyes went wide, but now with mischievous delight. “I
knew
there was a man involved! Go, go, and have a wonderful time!”

It took three hours to travel to Redoaks, and three hours gives ample time for worry. Laura worried that Harry would already be missing her. She worried that he wasn’t. It still hurt that he seemed able to wave good-bye to her without a care in the world. It hurt, simply, that each turn of the wheel separated them more. They had been so little apart.

Perhaps everyone was right. Perhaps even Jack was right that she clung too closely to her child. She would try to do better, but only when Harry was safe. She prayed that HG was Henry Gardeyne’s legitimate child, and that she and Stephen would be in time to save him.

When the post chaise rolled up to the elegant brick house called Redoaks, she was ready to leap out and go on immediately to Draycombe. She knew that couldn’t be. They would have to plan a little, and she would need some disguise.

Because what she was about to do was scandalous.

That awareness had grown in her. She and Stephen were old friends, once as close as brother and sister, but that wouldn’t count for anything if they were caught together at an inn. It would ruin her.

The disguise had better be excellent.

The door opened and a couple came out, the man carrying a pretty infant in a pink dress. Eleanor Delaney, a handsome woman with auburn hair, came forward. “Laura! How lovely to see you again.”

Laura missed her cue by a heartbeat, then realized that indeed they should act their parts, even before the indifferent postilions. She went into the other woman’s arms. “It’s been so long.” Pulling free, she turned to the man and child. “And this must be Arabel.”

She would have kissed the child, but the girl shrank back, face puckering as if she’d cry.

“She’s shy,” Nicholas Delaney said with an easy smile.

King Rogue. He didn’t look regal or wicked, though there was something unusual about him—apart, that was, from the fact that his shirt was open-necked beneath a loose jacket. Informal, to say the least. Perhaps the uncommon impression came from his coloring, for unlike most fashionable gentlemen his face was tanned by the sun to a shade that almost matched his dusky gold hair.

“A pleasure to see you again, Laura,” he said. “I’ll attend to your luggage and the carriage. You go into the house. You must be ready for refreshment.”

Laura went, but she couldn’t help finding it strange that Delaney kept the little girl with him rather than passing her to his wife.

Eleanor Delaney didn’t seem to mind. “No Harry?” she asked as they went upstairs. “Arabel will be disappointed.”

“I’m sorry. He’s enjoying his cousins, and there are kittens in the barn. No Stephen?”

“Not yet, but we expect him shortly.”

Eleanor Delaney took her into an airy bedchamber with blue-and-white curtains and bed hangings. In this house Laura had an impression of casual elegance that made her long to settle in and enjoy. But there was also something as unusual as its owner.

Perhaps it was the colors, or even the scents. She detected potpourri, but perhaps incense, as well. On the landing, she’d recognized a large pale statue of a laughing fat man as a representation of Buddha. She remembered Stephen saying once that King Rogue had gone traveling instead of to university.

So it would seem.

“I’ll go and get some hot water for you,” her hostess said.

She left, which was tactful, as Laura did need to use the chamber pot. She hadn’t anticipated, however, how very strange it would feel to be foisted upon strangers with Stephen not here. Was she to carry on chatting as if they were old friends? When would she be allowed to stop lying?

She took off her black bonnet and gloves and her gray spencer, then relieved herself. As she waited for her washing water, she looked out at a pleasant, unpretentious garden, an orchard, and placid scenery beyond. A lovely spot, but not the setting she’d expected for daredevil Nicholas Delaney.

Stephen put great faith in him, but was he really able to help them? People changed.
Yes
, she thought, considering the past few days,
indeed, people do
.

Eleanor returned, carrying the jug of hot water herself.

“This is a lovely house,” Laura said.

“We like it. May I call you Laura all the time? It’s best to act a part completely—I have that from a master of deception. And you must call me Eleanor.”

It would feel awkward, but Laura said, “Of course.”

“And do call Nicholas, Nicholas. No one who knows him would believe that an old friend of mine wouldn’t.”

That would feel even stranger, but pouring water into the bowl, Laura agreed. As she washed her hands and face, she asked, “Is there need to pretend in front of the servants?”

“It’s best to be thorough. Did you have a smooth journey?”

Laura followed that lead. She wouldn’t be here long, after all, but she wished she knew how much Stephen had told his friends.

“I gather that you and Stephen intend a further journey,” Eleanor said.

So he’d told them that much. “There’s nothing improper about it. Well, there is, of course, but we do it only from necessity.”

Eleanor’s eyes twinkled. “Exciting necessity, I’m sure, Stephen being a Rogue.”

Did it seem she was engaged in this for
amusement?
“Perhaps I should explain . . .”

But Eleanor waved a hand. “Oh, no, it will be more efficient to do it all at once. Now, would you like tea? We will have a lunch when Stephen arrives.”

“Tea would be lovely.”

Laura realized that what she really wanted was to be alone, to be free of pretending friendship and guarding what she said. She remembered a good reason.

“I promised my son letters. Deceptive, I know, but if I write them, will you send them each day?”

“Of course,” Eleanor said, without a hint of disapproval. “I’ll get you some of our stationery.”

She left, and returned in moments with a portable desk containing everything Laura needed. “I’ll send up tea and let you know as soon as Stephen arrives.”

Laura sat at the table by the window, aware of feeling disgruntled and it being unreasonable. Eleanor Delaney was so very amiable and even tempered that it was irritating. Of course, Eleanor had not married a man like Hal Gardeyne. She was the type to have more sense.

Laura winced. She wouldn’t be reduced to thinking mean thoughts about Hal. She’d made that choice and would live with it. He hadn’t changed; she had. Or perhaps simply come to know herself better.

It wasn’t even as if she wanted a life like this for herself. It struck her as much too placid.

She liked the bustle of Merrymead, and she loved London.

Thinking of that was a waste of time. She uncapped the inkwell and chose a pen. Stephen would be here shortly, and these letters must be written.

Tea came and she sipped it as she wrote. Soon she had five simple letters written, dated today and subsequent days, except that one was for both tomorrow and Monday. Neither people nor letters traveled on Sunday.

On Monday, Jack might set off for Draycombe, but it would take him at least two days to make the journey and by then surely she and Stephen would have dealt with the situation. She had four days. Four days that might solve her problems or land her in disaster.

She enjoyed gambling, but only for trivial stakes.

A clock somewhere began an interesting harmonious chime. Laura counted, but she knew it had to be noon. Where was Stephen?

She didn’t want to join her hosts until he arrived. She remembered promising Harry drawings, so she began to illustrate the letters. On the first one, she drew a post chaise across the top, with herself at the window, waving. On the next one, she drew a church with her coming out with the Delaneys and little Arabel.

Such a pity the child was so shy. She gave thanks that Harry had a robust, sunny temperament. It made him trusting, however. Too trusting.

Juliet would keep him safe.

She drew the view from her window on Tuesday’s letter, then, her imagination failing her, a meaningless border of flowers on the last. By the time Harry got Wednesday’s letter, she might be home again.

There was a tap on the door, and Eleanor came in. “Stephen’s here, and lunch is ready.”

At last
. Laura quickly folded her letters and sealed them. Sadness poked at her. “Harry usually does this. He loves it.”

“Arabel, too.”

They shared a smile and Laura felt more comfortable. Children were children and mothers mothers. It would not be long before Harry was sealing her letters for her again. She stacked the letters and gave them to Eleanor, then they both went downstairs.

Stephen was in the drawing room, seated on the sofa with little Arabel leaning trustingly on his knee, apparently showing him her doll. It was quite a plain one. A stick-and-rag doll. Stephen was smiling, and the little girl was smiling, too. He liked children and they liked him, even shy Arabel.

He would make a good father.

Then Arabel saw Laura and ran to her father.

He picked her up as if this were normal, but said, “Mrs. Gardeyne is a friend of Uncle Stephen’s and thus a friend of ours. Make your curtsy, poppet.”

He put the girl down. The child’s look was so distrustful that Laura thought she might refuse, but she dropped a curtsy. Immediately afterward, however, she scrambled back into her father’s arms.

Laura felt mortified to be terrifying a child so, but why? Harry had been terrified of one of his great-aunts, who wore red circles of rouge on her cheeks in the old style. She, however, was without face paint and wearing a simple dark gray gown and white cap.

She caught a flicker of something on Eleanor Delaney’s face. Perhaps it was embarrassment at the way her child was behaving, or even unhappiness that Arabel so clearly preferred her father. All was not well in this house, after all.

Stephen greeted Laura in a casual sort of way. “Did everything go smoothly?”

“Perfectly. Our plans are in place.”

“Yes, and when I left the Caldfort area a second time, the vicar was making no unusual moves.”

Laura had thought that Stephen’s arrival would make everything easier, but it was quite the opposite. She realized that she’d expected Stephen to be more struck by their reunion.

As she was?