The House in Grosvenor Square (28 page)

Mr. Pellham, dear soul, had been reading his newspaper. When word arrived from Hanover Square, he knew only that Mrs. Bentley was unwell and required his presence. He immediately flew into a frightful discomposure. What was her complaint? How long had she been ill? Had the doctor been sent for? The footman knew none of the answers to these questions. This caused Mr. Pellham, who barely had a moment to locate his snuff box and shove it into a waistcoat pocket, to hurry from his house with a great deal of worry on his brow.

He made his way as quickly as his legs and cane would allow but grew more alarmed when he caught sight of several of Mrs. Bentley's servants scurrying in all directions. Perchance his love was dying! His own breath came out swiftly, and a sweat broke out on his head and neck. He must hurry! Mr. Pellham was not a man given over to much fretting, but he was certainly fretting now.

When he finally reached the house, he was breathing heavily, and Haines, with a concerned look, took him directly to the sitting room. When Mr. Pellham saw that Mrs. Bentley was in the ground floor sitting room, this strange happenstance only added to his fears. He turned to Haines and asked, “Will she make it, do you think?”

Haines raised his brows in surprise. “Do you mean Miss Herley?”

“Miss
Herley
? Why would I mean Miss Herley? I mean your mistress, of course.”

“Mrs. Bentley was unharmed, sir.”

“Unharmed? Is she ill or isn't she? Why was I sent for, man, if she is unharmed or not ailing?”

“Oh, she is ailing, sir. I daresay you will be a great comfort to her.”

Mr. Pellham was no fool, but he could make heads nor tails out of the conversation. He looked at Haines evenly. “Open the door, Haines.”

“Yes, sir.” He went in and rushed to the side of the languishing lady. “My dear Mrs. B., whatever is the matter?”

“Oh, Mr. Pellham! Thank God you are come! Such goings-on! You will not believe your ears!” In the ensuing minutes, he had taken her hand and patted it often while she poured out her tale of sorrow. Mr. Mornay took the opportunity of overhearing the detailed account—as did the constable, beadle, one watchman, and one officer, so that they all understood what had happened.

Mornay was able to supply the further information that Lord Wingate was definitely behind the abduction and that his brother, Lord Antoine, might also be involved. He quickly related all that had happened to Miss Forsythe on the previous day.

One or two of the men were familiar with the name of Wingate, and the officer knew him by sight. Lord Antoine was less known, but the brothers were acknowledged to be noted bluffs, scoundrels, blackguards of the first order.

Mrs. Bentley called for the arrest and imprisonment of the impudent ruffians. She was still in a rare pet. Seldom had she been so put upon as she had this day. Never had she been forced to endure such brutality! A pistol— right in her face! She had looked down the barrel, expecting any second to breathe her last! And she feared to think what Miss Herley must be suffering! Oh, it was unendurable!

The doctor had also been listening, allowing the lady to tell her tale, but he stepped forward now. “Gentlemen, I beg you, allow me to see my patient privately. She must not continue to relive this distressing experience. I daresay you have all received adequate information to begin your investigations into this matter and recover the unfortunate young lady.” (This elicited a fresh moan from Mrs. Bentley.) There were murmurs of agreement, wishes for her recovery, and thanks for her help, and then finally it was only Mr. Peabanks left with the lady and Mr. Pellham.

He prescribed a dose of laudanum, but the patient, though she knew it would help her sleep, was not quite ready for it. She had an illness no doctor could fight. She was absolutely ill with the thought that she had sent for Miss Herley only on account of her own refusal to accompany her niece to Grosvenor Square. And harm had befallen the girl simply because Mrs. Bentley didn't wish to endure the discomfort of staying somewhere other
than her own house. She had always preferred to stay in her own home; so much so that she had not visited the Forsythe's in Chesterton since they'd left London! But this was too vexing. She needed to
do
something about the situation. She needed to know that something was being done to recover Lavinia! She needed—oh, what
did
she need?

She had a sudden thought. “Randolph, please summon a maid for me.”

“Of course, Mrs. B.!” He went toward the bellpull.

To the chambermaid who appeared, Mrs. Bentley said, “I need my prayer book. Run to my chamber and get it from the night table near my bed.” She looked at Mr. Peabanks. “Sir, I must have a few minutes with my betrothed.”

He bowed. “Of course, ma'am,” he replied and went out to the hall where, to his surprise, all the gentlemen who had previously been in the sitting room were now gathered. They were still speaking of the abduction, other crimes of late, what could be done to prevent such things, and who should be in charge of searching for the brothers. Mr. Mornay listened to the talk only long enough to ascertain whether or not it was going to help him in his own search for Wingate, but hearing nothing of moment, he left.

His intention was to follow up on Mr. Whiddington's lead, which was that Wingate often stayed at what was called the
Holy Ground
of St. Giles' parish, where criminal nurseries were common and criminal minds congregated. He hoped the man had been truthful—there were other criminal nurseries in the city, and without a proper lead, he could search for weeks without ever uncovering Wingate's hideout.

Back in the sitting room, Mrs. Bentley looked plaintively at her future husband. “Randolph, may I ask—may I ask you to pray with me?”

Her voice was greatly subdued all of a sudden, and his surprise at the change in her tone was second only to his surprise at her request. But he instantly responded. “Of course, my dear Mrs. B.” And when the maid returned with the little leather book, Mrs. Bentley took it and flipped through the leaves impatiently until she had found the collect she wanted to read. She gave him the book, and Mr. Pellham got heavily to his knees—not so easy as once it was—and there on the floor, beside her where she lay on the couch, he read from its pages quietly and with conviction. When he got to the prayer, Mrs. Bentley closed her eyes. “
Hear our prayer, O Lord…”

Afterward, for the first moment since Miss Herley's abduction, Mrs. Bentley felt an easing of her vexed spirit. Had a mere prayer really accomplished so much for her?

“Thank you, Mr. Pellham,” she said, patting his hand most gratefully and affectionately. “I daresay I will be able to get some rest now. I just
know
that God has heard us!”

“I am inclined to agree with you, Mrs. B.,” he said, and he went and started dragging a wing chair closer to where she lay on the couch. They could both use some rest after such unnerving events.

When Mr. Peabanks had the temerity to knock softly on the door a few minutes later and, upon hearing no response, quietly enter the room, he took a look about him. His expression softened at what he beheld. Mr. Pellham was asleep in a wing chair that was adjacent to the bed, close enough so that one of his hands still held one of Mrs. Bentley's. The lady, meanwhile, was asleep on the couch, and both souls looked perfectly peaceful. He left a sample of medicine, in case it was needed, and instructions for Haines to call upon him at the first hint that his assistance might be needed.

After Mr. Mornay had gone, Frederick sent for Mrs. Hamilton. She was supposed to keep company with Miss Forsythe, which he understood to mean that she ought to join her future mistress in the guest bedchamber and personally keep an eye on the lady, as the master had wished.

“Mr. Frederick!” she exclaimed, after he gave her the orders. “Are you not shocked that Miss Forsythe has agreed to remain beneath the roof of this house before the wedding? And without a proper chaperone? Are you not disappointed in her character, sir?”

Mr. Frederick knew nothing of the abduction attempt, and he had to admit that expressed thus, Miss Forsythe's presence in the house did sound rather questionable. But the master surely would not sanction the thing if it were not proper, and he begged to remind her that the young woman did bring two maids with her. He supposed they were companions of a sort, which made her presence more digestible.

“Bless us, she's gone and brought her own servants already! Did I not
warn you, Mr. Frederick, of her intentions? She'll have us turned out directly, I've no doubt! It's the Draper's Asylum for me, I fear, for I am nothing but an old, decayed housekeeper.”

Frederick's face softened, but he had not had the chance to check with the master regarding his future or any of the servants, and he could offer her no consolation.

“I wouldn't be surprised,” she whispered in a confidential manner, “if Miss Forsythe turns out the lot of us now that she's here. She won't go back to her own house, I assure you. Whatever her pretext is for coming here, the master, I fear, is sadly deceived in it. I daresay I will find her well and strong, and all this fuss about footmen at the door and myself in the chamber—all for what? For what I ask you? Not for
her
sake, I warrant! Perhaps our master realizes the thieving that's gone on has coincided with her visits one time too often, eh? We are to keep an eye on her, indeed! What think you of that?”

Mr. Frederick's face was troubled. “Mr. Mornay did say not to leave her alone in the house for a second.”

“Just as I feared, sir! We must nail down the house now before she carries off anything more! Trouble, trouble, trouble,” she said shaking her head.

“But I must think she is ill, Mrs. Hamilton. The master did carry her into the house, you know, in his arms, and she has been asleep since. I daresay she has some malady or illness.”

“He
carried
her in? That is shocking, Mr. Frederick. Shocking, indeed! I am above certain,” she said with great feeling, “that our Miss Forsythe may well have been
foxed,
sir! As I say, she is trouble for this household!”

“Surely not that,” he returned. He was remembering the incident when Mr. Mornay was foxed and how Miss Forsythe had clearly disapproved of such a state. That was only weeks ago. Could the lady have changed so drastically in character? He doubted it.

“I am afraid the master was quite clear in that he wished you to stay in her chamber with her, nevertheless,” he said apologetically.

“Humph!” she responded. “I'll get my shawl and a book. Make no mistake, sir. I will do my duty, for the master's sake—but not for
hers
, mind you.” She sniffed loudly. “When is the master to return?”

“Only God knows, Mrs. Hamilton. There was an abduction of a lady who was on her way here with Mrs. Bentley from Hanover Square—he has gone to be of assistance in recovering her, I think.”

“The master is gone to help recover her? Why should he do that, I wonder?” She shook her head and gave Frederick one of her most severely
disapproving looks. “It gets worse an' worse. Nothing but trouble. That's all we've had since Miss Forsythe appeared.”