The Bargain (12 page)

“Where could she have been going?” wondered Ariel. She hesitated, then added, “She told me once that she grew up in a back slum.”

“Did she now?” said John. After a moment's consideration of this, he shrugged. “I kept strictly out of it after that. You didn't cross Bess.”

This seemed irrelevant to Alan, and he didn't think there was any more to be discovered here. “Shall we go?” he asked Ariel.

She looked reluctant, then stood. “I suppose… yes, of course.” She straightened. “Good-bye, John.”

“You watch yourself, miss.”

“I can't let her go like that,” Ariel told him. Her jaw hardened, and the look of resolve returned to her beautiful face. “I won't.”

Unexpectedly, John smiled. “You always were a stubborn one. Remember that white pony?”

“Cloud!” A smile lightened Ariel's expression, too. “I haven't thought of her in years. Such a poorly named horse.”

“Mean little beast,” agreed John. He glanced at the others. “Kept wanting to bite or kick or shake her out of the saddle. But she just kept coming back, with her teeth gritted and a look on her face that said she'd win or die trying.”

“And I did win,” said Ariel.

“She took to you finally, didn't she?” recalled John. “I thought we'd have to put her down.”

“I never give up,” declared Ariel fiercely.

“This ain't a pony.” John moved toward the door. “If you wouldn't mind, I'll just slip back on my own.”

“You'll wait until we're gone,” said Alan sharply.

John held up his hands, conceding the point. Alan put a hand on Ariel's arm to urge her out of the room. “See that all's well,” he told Roger.

The stairs remained clear. “Let's go,” Alan commanded, and the party began to retrace the path they had taken earlier.

The slumped figures in the outer room hadn't moved. They were sunk in some kind of stuporous oblivion, Alan concluded. Perhaps this alehouse doubled as an opium den.

They left the foul place and picked their way back to the coach, where the driver was looking rather nervous. Alan helped Ariel inside as the others swung up onto the back. Ariel had just settled herself in the seat when there was a flurry of pounding footsteps and a shout from one of their guards. Alan lurched into the coach, shouting, “Move!” Ariel was thrown hard against the cushions as the carriage careened away down the dirty street with the horses of their escort pounding along on both sides.

“Is anyone following?” Alan called.

“No one in sight,” came the reply from outside.

“Bloody hell,” said Alan, venting his feelings.

They continued to travel at a dangerous speed until they reached a more populated area, with lighted shops and people still walking along the pavements. When the driver had let the horses drop into a walk, Alan finally relaxed a bit, letting out a breath and allowing his back to touch the carriage seat. “Right,” he said, as if answering some unspoken question.

“What was it?” wondered Ariel quietly.

“A gang of footpads. Five at least, with cudgels and knives.”

“They meant to rob us?”

“As I warned you might happen.” Alan took a deep breath. He had not wanted to take Ariel to such a neighborhood, and he had been absolutely right. If she had only listened to him, she would not have had to endure this scare.

“Where do you think my mother was going on those visits?” she said.

He turned to stare at her.

“Do you think we could discover it if we…?” Noticing his incredulous gaze, she broke off. “What?” she said.

“Have you lost your wits entirely?” he interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

“We were very nearly robbed just now, and most likely beaten, or worse.”

“But we escaped,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but… you… you ought to be hysterical.”

“Is that what you would like? I thought you despised hysterical females.”

“I do. But—”

“And in any case, the danger is past. So there is no need to be alarmed,” she added kindly.

Alan found himself speechless. The more he saw of Ariel Harding, the more amazing she became. She was like no female he had ever imagined. One corner of his mouth quirked upward. No doubt she would inform him that his conclusion was a failure of imagination rather than a fact based on solid observations.

“Perhaps we could question some of the hack drivers near the house,” Ariel suggested, returning to the earlier subject. “Do you think they might remember where they took Bess?”

“No.”

Ariel sighed. “I suppose not. But I should so like to know…” She brightened. “She might have dropped hints to some of her friends. She loved being mysterious. I'll find a way to ask them at the prince's masquerade.”

Alan nearly groaned. Here was yet another sore point with the prince. He had urged the regent in the strongest possible terms not to hold a huge masked ball that he had planned. Predictably, the prince had refused point-blank to cancel an affair that would offer the haunters a thousand opportunities. “You are not going to the masquerade,” he said. “I will be too busy to escort you.”

“But I must.”

They had pulled up before her house, and in the light of the lantern that hung beside the door, he could see the obstinate defiance in her face. He grasped her arm so that she couldn't get down. “We will not continue to make a spectacle of ourselves at Carlton House,” he insisted.

“Spectacle?” she repeated. She jerked away from him and opened the coach door, ready to step down. “Is that what we are?”

“With the way that you have been behaving there—yes!”

“If you are afraid I will wreck your reputation, I am sure I can find another escort,” Ariel jeered.

With a muttered curse, he grabbed Ariel by the waist and swept her back into her seat, slamming the carriage door shut with the other hand. “Tell me what you intend to do,” he demanded.

“Why should I?” She struggled to free herself, but his grip was unbreakable.

Alan couldn't remember when he had been so angry. Among his brothers, he was known as the even-tempered one, the one who ended disputes rather than started them. His colleagues at Oxford knew him to be a supremely rational debater, a man who reasoned rather than attacked. And yet here he was, longing to force Ariel to obey him by sheer brute strength. “What are you going to do?” he demanded again.

“I don't see any reason to tell you,” she replied.

Retaining his grip on her, Alan took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. There was only one way he could have any control over what she might do, he concluded finally. “I'll take you,” he muttered.

She turned to look at him, her surprise and dawning hope evident in the lantern light.

“And you will swear to continue to communicate your ideas to me before taking any action,” he added.

“Could you let go of me now?” was the reply.

Abruptly he released her. All London assumed she was his mistress. Though she didn't realize it, she had been labeled. Without his protection now, she would be fair game for any man. “If I escort you, will you give your word to go there with no one but me?” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“
Do
you give your word?” he added. His anger was dissipating, and being replaced with a kind of reckless elation that he had never experienced before.

“I promise,” Ariel assured him.

Surprising himself as well as Ariel, Alan began to laugh. “You would do quite well as a blackmailer,” he said after a while.

Her eyes gleamed in the lantern light. “Perhaps I'll consider it when I'm older,” she replied.

It was very likely that Bess had had costumes made for masquerades, Ariel thought as she made her way up to the attic two days later. She had loved them. And just because Lord Alan was being stuffy about wearing fancy dress didn't mean she had to be. She intended to enjoy the occasion to the fullest. Who knew when she would get to attend another?

“Ooh, miss,” breathed Ellen the housemaid, who accompanied her to the attic for the first time. “Look at all these dresses!”

“Would you like one?” answered Ariel somewhat absently. She was concentrating on the search for the costumes.

“Me, miss?” The girl seemed flabbergasted. “Hannah wouldn't allow it.”

This caught Ariel's attention. “Why would she care?” she wondered.

Ellen had moved to one of the wardrobes and was stroking a silk gown. “She'd say they weren't for the likes of me,” she answered, her voice distant, as if she had drifted off to some other realm.

Ariel hesitated. Ellen wouldn't have any place to wear one of her mother's dresses. But what harm could there be in simply owning one? “We'll ask Hannah,” she decided. It would give her a chance to learn more about her possible adversary, she thought. She hadn't yet been able to make out Hannah's true opinion of her.

“Do you think we should, miss?” Ellen was clearly doubtful, but her fingers continued to stroke the luxurious cloth of their own volition.

“Why not? Come, we'll do it now.”

They found Hannah in the kitchen, as usual. She was sprinkling some green herb into a large pot on the cookstove, and she looked up in surprise when Ariel marched in with Ellen at her heels.

“Hannah, my mother left a great number of gowns in the house here. She had a penchant for new clothes. I would like to give Ellen a silk dress. Have you any objection?”

The older woman looked from Ariel to Ellen's hopeful face. Ariel realized she was a little nervous. There was something formidable about Hannah, even though she was the quietest, most unobtrusive person.

The pause lengthened. Ellen shuffled her feet on the brick floor but didn't speak.

“Let's have a look,” Hannah said at last.

They climbed back up the stairs together, Hannah beginning to puff a bit by the third floor. She stopped to catch her breath at the top, and then followed them into the attic storage room. “Merciful heavens,” she exclaimed at the rows of crammed wardrobes. “No wonder you've been keeping this room locked up.”

Of course she had noticed that, Ariel thought.

Hannah walked down the row, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe her eyes. “What a waste,” she murmured at the end.

“Isn't it?” agreed Ariel. “I would like the gowns to be enjoyed, instead of just hanging here getting dusty.”

Hannah gave her a look that said she saw right through this altruism.

“I could just keep it in my room,” ventured Ellen. “To look at, like. And mebbe when I went home at Christmastime, I could—”

“Having a silk gown wouldn't let you out of any of your work,” admonished Hannah.

“No, ma'am. Of course not,” replied Ellen, sounding shocked at the idea.

Hannah smiled slightly. “I don't see any harm in it,” she said.

Ellen gasped with pleasure and turned to stare at the dress she had been touching earlier.

“Any one you want, Ellen,” said Ariel.

Smiling beatifically, the girl went to take down the dress—a stunning peach silk that was perfect for her dark coloring.

“Would… would you like something as well, Hannah?” Ariel ventured.

The older woman snorted. “It'd take two of them to fit round me.”

Should she offer her two? wondered Ariel.

“However…”

Ariel waited.

“I have two nieces, down in Devonshire, who'd probably faint dead away to get a gown such as that.” She was looking at Ellen, who was holding the silk gown up against her and smoothing its folds.

“Let us send them some,” urged Ariel, delighted and relieved.

“I don't know what their mother would say to me,” answered the older woman. “Look at that neckline. It's near down to your…” She sniffed.

Ellen started and flushed deep red. “I'm going to put in a kerchief,” she mumbled.

“There are morning dresses that are not cut so low,” Ariel responded hurriedly. “I'll show you.” She moved toward another wardrobe, and was gratified when Hannah slowly followed her. “Tell me about your nieces,” she added. “Are they dark-haired or blond? Here, look at this.” She pulled out a sprigged muslin gown with a deep ruffle at the hem and long narrow sleeves, also ruffled at the cuff. The neckline was fairly decorous—astonishingly so for her mother, Ariel thought. Probably that was why the gown hung here; it didn't look as if it had ever been worn.

Hannah touched the muslin. “Fine stuff,” she commented. “Alice would look right lovely in that.”

“Good,” declared Ariel. She thrust the dress into Hannah's arms. “Now, let us see. What is your other niece's name?”

“Lizzie,” answered Hannah absently. She was looking down at the dress. “I don't know, miss.”

“Oh, please. I would so like to think of them in these dresses.”

Hannah looked up and met her eyes. Ariel saw traces of suspicion, and doubt, and uneasiness. She let the woman examine her as long as she wished. It felt very much like a test, but she was confident of her ability to pass it.

After what seemed like a long time, Hannah nodded. “Thank you, miss,” she said. “The girls'll be that thrilled.”

The three of them spent a pleasant half hour choosing another dress to send south, and then Ariel returned to her original purpose. She finally found what she was looking for in the wardrobe in the far corner. There were fewer dresses here; room had been left so that the elaborate ensembles would not be crushed. She took them out one by one and examined them. There was a lavishly ornamented gown in the style of the last century, with panniers and a skirt made of yards and yards of silk brocade. But when she peered into the recesses of the wardrobe, she saw no sign of the hoop or crinolines necessary for wearing it, so she had to put it aside.

There was an Elizabethan-looking dress in deep blue silk shot with bronze. Its bodice came to a sharp point in the front, and a starched ruff, rather crushed, was pinned to one sleeve. Ariel smiled. Her mother had gone to some masked ball as Good Queen Bess, she thought, and it was just like her.

There was a classical sort of toga made of pale cream silk, but when Ariel handled it she could barely tell which was the neck and which the hem. She didn't trust its draped folds; it looked as if it would fall off at the slightest movement.

Finally, in the back of the wardrobe, she found just what she wanted. It was a Gypsy costume, with a snug narrow bodice and a skirt made of layers and layers of multicolored ruffles all trimmed in gilt ribbon and embellished with little gilt coins. The dress swayed and twinkled in her hands as if it had a life of its own. There was a matching scarf to tie over her hair, and in a small pocket she found hooped earrings that also tinkled with little bits of gilt. With a black mask, it would be a marvelous costume.

Ellen was equally excited as she helped her carry the dress downstairs. They were in Ariel's bedchamber agreeing on how it should be pressed when Ariel noticed something outside. Her stableyard was occupied by a gigantic chestnut, guarded by a stableboy she had never seen before. “Do you know who that is?” she asked Ellen.

“That's Billy,” answered the girl, surprised.

“Billy?”

“He used to work in the stables at Langford House, but now he's… Oh, I expect Lord Sebastian's here to visit Hannah.”

“Ah?”

“Major Lord Sebastian, I should say.” The girl frowned. “I think.”

“He is the one in the cavalry regiment?” asked Ariel.

“Yes, miss.”

Ariel contemplated this information. “All the brothers seem very fond of Hannah,” she ventured.

“She was their nurse, miss. And she still… helps them out, like.”

“How?”

Ellen shrugged. “I don't rightly know, miss. She listens to them talk.”

“Does she?”

Ariel considered resisting the temptation before her and rejected the idea with a shrug. “Would you put the dress away for me, Ellen?” she asked. “And, er, tidy up?”

“Of course, miss,” said the maid, looking a bit surprised at this sudden change in direction.

Leaving her to wonder, Ariel ran lightly down the stairs, moving very softly when she reached the final steps that led into the kitchen. Voices were floating up toward her, and she paused to listen.

“The damned girl ignores me,” she heard Lord Sebastian Gresham say.

Hannah made some inaudible reply.

“Well, I'm sorry, Hannah, but it drives a man to strong language,” he answered. “I know I'm not repulsive to the ladies.”

Ariel crept closer, but she still couldn't catch more than a murmur of sound from Hannah.

“Don't say comeuppance,” objected the visitor. “Hannah, I'm serious this time. I mean to marry the gel. I swear you've never heard me say that before.”

Just outside the door, Ariel heard Hannah say, “No.”

“I always meant to marry an heiress,” added her companion. “I was in no hurry though. There's a fresh crop of them every year. But this one is… something special.”

“I'm sure she won't refuse you,” said Hannah comfortably. Ariel was close enough now to hear the click of her knitting needles.

“That's what I'm trying to tell you,” protested Lord Sebastian. “She won't so much as look at me. There's a flock of fellows around her every minute. I can scarcely snag a dance.”

Ariel pushed open the kitchen door and went in, then stopped abruptly. “Oh. Hello, Lord Sebastian,” she said.

He leaped to his feet, looming very large in this low-ceilinged room. He wore his uniform, and the buttons and braid glittered impressively. His magnificent whiskers curled along his cheeks, completing the picture of an extremely dashing cavalryman. “How do?” he said. “Just having a jaw with Hannah.”

“How nice,” said Ariel. She sat in the chair opposite him at the kitchen table and looked up with a sweet, expectant smile.

“I, er, I should be on my way,” he responded.

“You cannot go yet. I see Hannah has the teapot all ready.”

Looking slowly from one of them to the other, Hannah rose to pour the boiling water over the tea leaves.

Lord Sebastian shifted from one large booted foot to the other.

Hannah got out another cup and brought the tea things to the table on a tray. There were macaroons, Ariel noticed. She wondered if she would have been offered them above stairs, or if they had been procured for Lord Sebastian's enjoyment. She reached out and took two. “So, I understand you are pursuing an heiress,” she said cordially.

Lord Sebastian choked.

“What is her name? Hermione?”

He goggled at her.

“I may have it wrong,” added Ariel blithely. “You know how it is with gossip; everything is twisted around.”

“Gossip?” he cried. “You can't mean people are talking… no one could possibly know. Hardly knew myself till yesterday.”

Ariel waved a hand. “It only requires the least hint. What
is
her name?”

Lord Sebastian sighed. “Georgina,” he replied. “Lady Georgina Stane.”

“Much nicer than Hermione,” commented Ariel. “When shall I wish you happy?”

He sighed again. “Never.”

“Really? Is there some obstacle?” Ariel saw that Hannah was watching her very closely. There might have been a twinkle in the older woman's eyes, or it might have been a trick of the light.

Lord Sebastian hesitated. The struggle between discretion and a strong desire to pour out his woes was evident on his face. The latter finally won out. “She don't care a snap of her fingers for me,” he complained. “I have to fight my way through a battalion of fops and fortune hunters just to speak to her, and then, likely as not, she flits off just as I open my mouth. It ain't what I'm used to,” he muttered darkly. “I don't wish to brag, but the ladies are generally dashed glad to talk to me.”

Ariel remembered that Lord Sebastian had quite a reputation among a certain set of ladies. “It sounds just like
The
Rake
Reformed
,” she offered.

“Eh?” He eyed her as if she'd spoken in a foreign language.

“That is a play my mother once acted in,” she added. “The situation is very similar.”

He simply stared.

“You see,” she explained kindly, “young ladies are sometimes instructed not to take anything seriously from a… a certain sort of man. They are told that he doesn't mean what he says and that he is simply amusing himself at their expense.”

“That's an outrage,” complained their visitor, who had been guilty of precisely this fault on many occasions.

“The stratagem that the hero used in
The
Rake
Reformed
might be just the thing for you,” she said.

“Stratagem?” She had his full attention now.

“Yes, it was rather clever. But, well, you have to really mean to marry the lady.” She had no intention of helping him deceive a fellow female.

“I do,” vowed Lord Sebastian.

She decided to probe a bit further. “Because you want her money?” she asked.

He nodded. “Couldn't marry without it,” he claimed. “But it ain't just her money, though. Met a score of girls with money since I joined up. But Georgina…” He trailed off thoughtfully.

“What is it that you like about her?” Ariel asked.

The large cavalryman looked surprised, as if it had never occurred to him to think about this. His brow furrowed. “Dashed if I know,” he concluded at last. “Odd, ain't it? There's just something about her. Can't get her out of my mind. Likely to make an ass of myself when I see her. Don't make sense, but there it is.” He spread his big hands.