Love & Folly

by Sheila Simonson

Terrified for their safety, he limped along the footpath, shoving strangers out of his way as he went, trying to keep Maggie's bright head in sight. He saw them, as he thought, trampled underfoot and poised himself to leap into the swirling Mob, then caught sight of them again in their fragile zone of safety at the cart's tailboard.

  Then he, too, was swept along the street, up with the surge of the crowd and back. When he spotted the cart once more, the girls had disappeared.

  Spent, his leg aching from the abuse he had given it, he leaned against the shuttered front of a shop, caught his breath, and tried to think. Where had they gone?

  The cart was moving along slowly, still headed north. They had been farther down the street when he lost sight of them. He straightened, gritted his teeth, and began to limp back down the walkway, jostled by excited onlookers as he went. When he thought he had reached the spot where he was pulled into the crowd, he began asking. Had anyone seen two young women caught up in the Mob? He described their dress, Maggie's betraying hair, the passing cart. No one had seen them.

  Just as he reached the point of despair, a stout motherly woman in a drab cape and rusty bonnet--probably a procuress, in that neighbourhood, he thought sourly--gave him positive word of the girls' escape. But Maggie, it seemed, had been hit on the head and taken up lifeless.

  Johnny's heart lurched. "By whom? Where was she taken? For God's sake, madam--"

  The woman, who had been retailing the details of Maggie's injury with gruesome relish, sobered and pointed to a bookshop. It was shuttered and looked deserted.

  Johnny banged on the closed door with the stick he had miraculously clung to throughout his ordeal. No answer. He banged harder.

  The door opened a crack, then flung wide. "Wonders never cease," said Colonel Falk. "Come in, Johnny. We're in the devil of a pucker here and you're just the man to pull us out of it."

  Johnny slipped past the older man and squinted as his eyes adjusted to semidarkness. Maggie lay on the dusty floor with her head in Jean's lap, the pop-eyed proprietor was wringing his hands beside his till, and, Colonel Falk, his back to the closed door, looked decidedly ruffled.

  Johnny bent over the girls. "Is she all right? That woman outside said she'd been hit by a paving stone."

  "Brickbat," Colonel Falk said tersely.

  Maggie moaned.

  Jean had removed her bonnet and her red hair stood up in sweaty tufts. Her eyes were red with weeping, her face curd-white under a mask of grime. "Oh Johnny, we've sent for a surgeon. She has a knot on her head like an egg and she doesn't want to wake up. What shall we do?"

  Colonel Falk drew up what appeared to be the only chair in the establishment. "Sit," he said rather as if Johnny were a good dog.

  Johnny sat. The relief was so exquisite he closed his eyes for a moment.

  "We'll wait for the sawbones," Falk said. "Then, if he says we may move her, we'll have to find a conveyance--"

  "My hackney," Johnny interrupted.

  "You have a carriage in this melee?"

  "The driver said be would wait in Compton Street."

  "Too far for Lady Margaret to walk, even when she regains her wits." Colonel Falk drew a long breath. "If you will go find the jarvey and convince him to drive here, we shall pull through this engagement after all. The thing is, Dyott, we must avoid drawing attention to the young ladies."

  Johnny nodded his emphatic agreement. If the girls' presence in Crown Street during a riot were made known, the scandal would probably ruin them. The Duchess of Devonshire might bestow campaign kisses on the electors of Westminster with social impunity, but that had been in a wilder time and besides the duchess was a married woman of mature years. Maggie and Jean were seventeen-year-old maidens.

  The patronesses of Almack's would not look with favour on the girls doing anything so indecorous as being caught up in a riot. Especially unescorted. Especially romping about in disguise like a pair of woolly Caro Lambs.

  Johnny could only hope no member of the Ton had been anywhere near Crown Street or Soho Square that morning.

  Or Bond Street, he thought glumly. The hope was faint and fading.

  He rose, not without a twinge. "I'll be off."

  Falk's eyes narrowed. "Have you crocked up your leg again?"

  "It hurts," Johnny admitted, since there was no point in hiding the obvious, "but it will hold."

  "Never mind. You deal with the sawbones. I'll go for the jarvey."

  "But--"

  "Your man has probably driven off. If so, I'll find another. I didn't want to leave the young ladies without an escort."

  A banging on the door announced the surgeon's arrival.

  Falk let him in. "In good time, sir."

  "You can put up your shutters," the young man said irritably. "The louts have hared off toward Canton House and good riddance. Time for the Riot Act, in my opinion. Now what is it? Ah, another whack on the noggin, I see. Fourth case I've treated this morning." He knelt by Maggie and went about his examination briskly.

  Johnny and Colonel Falk exchanged glances.

  "I'll hunt up a hackney," Falk said. "Do you have the wherewithal to pay the man's fee?"

  Johnny flushed. His purse must have been taken at some time during his wild career up Crown Street.

  Falk fumbled in his pockets and gave Johnny a sovereign and a handful of lesser coins.

  "Thanks."

  Falk nodded and slipped out the door.

  By the time he returned Maggie was coming round, the proprietor had taken down his shutters, and some kindly soul had brought water and vinegar from a nearby shop. Jean was bathing Maggie's temples.

  The surgeon seemed to think Maggie would be able to ride to Grosvenor Square without aggravating the injury--he had peered into her eyes, taken her pulse, probed the edge of the lump on her skull. He was a brusque man. Johnny did not like him. He was relieved when the surgeon departed.

  Somehow they got Maggie to the carriage, which was not the seedy vehicle he had hired in Bond Street.

  At Soho Square, the driver turned west and began a winding traverse of that unsavoury borough. Unsavoury as it might be, the streets were less risky than Crown Street with the mob in full cry.

  Johnny and Jean propped Maggie between them, and Colonel Falk sat opposite. Maggie was still faint and her wits still wandered, a circumstance that made Johnny extremely uneasy. At Colonel Falk's direction, the jarvey drove with great care. it seemed forever before the carriage reached the new Regent Street.

  They crossed the broad avenue at Maddox Street near Hanover Square, and the way was suddenly smoother, the traffic lighter.

  "Why Greek Street?" Johnny burst out. They had ridden in a silence punctuated only by Maggie's groans.

  Jean, thus addressed, set her jaw. "It was a lark."

  That be damned for a tale, Johnny thought resentfully. He took a calming breath. "When I reached Bond Street, the jarvey I hailed said you had given him an address in Greek Street then spurned his services when he tried to warn you that it was a low neighbourhood."

  Jean sat up. "Warn us! He insulted us...me. He was extremely rude."

  "And extremely right," Johnny snapped. "I want to know what took you to Greek Street, of all places. If Davies--"

  "It was my idea of an adventure," Jean insisted. "We were tired of being pent up and escorted and spied upon." Her grey eyes flashed.

  Johnny winced.

  "So we decided to dress in disguise and explore London."

  "But why Greek Street in particular?"

  "We'd never seen it."

  "You've never seen Billingsgate, either. I repeat, why Greek Street?"

  "Why not Greek Street? Mr. Lawrence lived there. It was very interesting." Jean burst into tears.

  "Let be, Dyott," Colonel Falk interposed. "This is not the place to be cross-examining witnesses." He handed Jean a clean handkerchief.

  The hackney swung onto Grosvenor Street. Jean sniffled. Johnny fumed in silence. At last they entered the Square and the ja
rvey drew up before the Conway town house. The butler and two footmen were at the carriage door instantly and Johnny could see Lady Clanross, her hands clasped, watching from the foyer.

  Colonel Falk got out first. "Quietly, gentlemen, if you please. Lady Margaret is unwell."

  The butler helped the bedraggled Jean down, then took Maggie in his arms without betraying curiosity or in any way impairing his dignity. Flanked by the two impassive footmen, he bore Maggie up the stairs and into the house in stately parade.

  Johnny slunk after like a dog following a regimental band.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth sent for Anne's discreet practitioner at once and bundled Maggie into bed. Jean hovered. Maggie moaned and muttered and complained of the headache--and no wonder. The knot on her skull was large as a hen's egg.

  Mercifully, Dr. Stroud responded within the half hour. He accepted Elizabeth's explanation--Jean and Maggie, escorted by Johnny and Colonel Falk on an expedition to the Tower, had been set on by the Mob. It was a thin story and Elizabeth hoped it might not embarrass the two men excessively. The physician tut-tutted, and gave Maggie a paregoric draught when he had assured himself that she was not seriously concussed. Finally, sponged clean and tucked into a fresh night rail, Maggie fell asleep.

  Dr. Stroud examined the bruise on Jean's arm, and the bruises and blisters on her feet, and prescribed bed rest. Jean was inclined to resist, but she finally lay down on the daybed in the girls' dressing room. When Elizabeth returned from showing the physician out, she found Jean sound asleep.

  Balked for the moment of an explanation, Elizabeth sought Johnny Dyott. She had not far to seek, for he was hovering in the first-floor hallway, looking miserable. She led him into her small withdrawing room.

  He was inclined to be remorseful.

  Elizabeth said kindly, "My dear Johnny, it's not your fault. Indeed, I'm grateful to you for following after them so promptly. What a miracle you found them at all."

  He explained about the spurned jarvey and Greek Street.

  "I see."

  "I cannot understand their presence in Soho. Unless Davies put them up to it."

  "Up to what?"

  Johnny buried his head in his hands. "I've no idea. Lady Jean insists they were out for a lark, that it was her idea."

  Elizabeth felt her mouth curl in an unwilling smile. "The scheme certainly has the earmarks of Jean's invention."

  "But why Greek Street? I could have sworn she and Davies had no opportunity to contrive a plot. I have been remiss..."

  "Johnny," Elizabeth interrupted, "I'm the twins' sister. If anyone is to blame it is I. I should have had their confidence. Let us hear no more of your responsibility. As I know to my cost, when my sisters make up their minds to a course of action, they are neither to hold nor to bind."

  "If you say so." He looked doubtful.

  "I do. Now, if you please, a plain account."

  Johnny told his story with reasonable despatch. When he came to the point at which he lost sight of the girls in the whirling crowd, the hair stood up on Elizabeth's neck. The twins had indeed had a narrow escape.

  "I couldn't reach them," Johnny concluded with obviously unfeigned distress. "I have never felt so powerless. I should have been able--"

  "No should-have-beens," Elizabeth reminded him. "Well, Greek Street remains a mystery, but neither you nor my sisters could have foreseen that the Mob would sweep through at that moment. I am glad you were there, Johnny, and I hope your leg has suffered no harm."

  He flushed. "It aches a bit but I'm sure it will be all right."

  "Then go rest it and be sure. I've sent for Tom, and I know he'll want your account of today's adventure, but indeed, Johnny, you are not to blame yourself. I particularly admire your discretion."

  "That was mostly Colonel Falk."

  "Then I must thank him as well. Go rest your leg," she said again, rising when he showed a disposition to repeat his apologies. She hoped he would someday outgrow his exaggerated sense of responsibility. It was a trait he shared with Clanross, endearing, on the whole, but occasionally exasperating.

  She found Colonel Falk in the book room.

  He was stooped over the escritoire, writing, and straightened as she entered, laying his pen aside. "Lady Clanross."

  "Colonel."

  "I trust the sawbones was satisfied with Lady Margaret's condition." He pulled a chair for her.

  Elizabeth sat. "He seems t think she'll survive. Do you always write standing up?"

  "Only when I want to use my right hand as a paperweight," he said coolly.

  Elizabeth bit her lip, chagrined to have been so tactless. "I beg your pardon. It must be difficult--" She drew a breath and started over. "I've sent for the sherry tray, sir. After the alarums of the day, I find myself in need of a composer. Perhaps you will join me in a glass."

  He inclined his head, eyes wary.

  "I have to thank you for your good offices today."

  "Glad to be of service." He seated himself in the companion chair. Between them on the hearth stood a vase of spring blossoms. The scent was rather heavy.

  "How in the world did you happen to come on the scene so conveniently?" Elizabeth asked, unable to restrain her curiosity.

  "I was gawking at the rioters like everyone else." He smiled slightly. "I delivered a chapter of my manuscript to Murray in Albermarle Street, and I had some time to while away before meeting my solicitor in the City. So I decided to browse the bookstalls. When the Mob began to gather, I prudently retired to a doorway out of the range of flying brickbats."

  "Then it was chance."

  "The purest coincidence, Lady Clanross. The sort I shouldn't dare use in a novel."

  Elizabeth smiled. "Life being stranger than fiction--"

  "I have often found it so."

  "Well, your presence was a piece of good fortune for Jean and Maggie, and I thank you very much for the rescue."

  "Strictly speaking, they rescued themselves, ma'am."

  Elizabeth stared.

  He was frowning. "As I said, I was watching. I noticed them at once, because there were so few women in the street."

  Elizabeth grimaced.

  He said dryly, "An unhappy choice of words. At any rate, they were visible but not immediately identifiable."

  "Thank God for that."

  "I watched as they were swept into the middle of the street and wondered if I ought to try to reach them. And whether I could do them any good if I did."

  He had slipped his right arm back in the discreet black silk sling. Now he touched the fabric, adding with evident regret, "I'm not much use in a set-to these days." He flashed a grin. "There was Johnny Dyott with one good leg and me with one good arm. Between the two of us, we might have made an adequate knight errant, but I think your sisters would have been better served by a troop of Guards."

  Elizabeth had to smile, too, but she said, "They were very well served as it was."

  He shook his head and went on, "They kept their wits about them. They waited in the shelter of a cart that had been caught in the confusion, and when they saw a gap in the crowd they made a dash for safety. Lady Margaret's cap was torn off. That was when I recognized them. I was some way off."

  "I see"

  "Lady Margaret was struck as they reached the walkway and pulled to safety by her sister and two onlookers. I made my way to them at once, but I can't claim to have rescued them. Or that they needed rescue They are redoubtable young women."

  "They're a pair of pestiferous hobbledehoys," Elizabeth said roundly, "and so I shall tell them when they wake. I blush when I consider what you must be thinking of their breeding."

  "I'm thinking that they have a great deal of spirit," he said mildly.

  "Spirit!"

  Fortunately, the butler entered before Elizabeth's exasperation betrayed her into unbecoming language.

  When the wine was poured and the butler had left the room, she found Colonel Falk watching her with considerable amusement in his ha
zel eyes "If your sisters had fallen into hysterics or swooned in one another's arms I daresay that would have showed good breeding."

  "Not being there at all would have showed good breeding." She took a sip of sherry. "Johnny says they refused to explain their presence, unescorted, in the seamiest purlieus of Soho."

  Colonel Falk toyed with his glass. "Lady Margaret was in no state to be explaining anything. Lady Jean said they were tired of, er, being hedged about by solicitous guardians. I was inclined to believe her:" He took a swallow of wine. "They were looking for adventure, ma'am. An understandable impulse."

  Elizabeth's wrath kindled. "Understandable in young men, perhaps, but not in well-bred young ladies."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Are young ladies immune to natural inclinations?"

  Elizabeth said grimly, "They must learn to consider the consequences of heedless behaviour."

  "Your sisters merely went for a little jaunt in each other's company and found more adventure than they bargained for. Lady Margaret's injury will mend. Where is the harm?"

  "There might have been a great deal of harm if you and Johnny hadn't found them. I can only hope no one of note recognised them before you were able to give them respectable escort."

  Colonel Falk's mouth quirked at the corners. "That's the first time anyone has ever accused me of respectability."

  Elizabeth stared.

  He cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

  Finally recalling his scandalous antecedents, she blushed to the roots of her hair, but when he began to laugh she did, too. The situation was fraught with absurdity, after all. In her concern for the girls' reputation, she'd been in danger of forgetting that. She was grateful to him for restoring the balance of her judgement.

  He was a quiet man. She had thought him colourless and unpleasantly reserved, assuming his friendship with her husband was just another instance of Tom's kindness. Tom had told her often enough that Colonel Falk was his oldest friend. She began to see why the friendship had endured.

  13

  "I want a proper mount," Matt announced, sliding from the saddle. "Tommy can have Pie." Pie, short for Piebald Prancer, was Matt's pony, a fat, good-natured beast, and with Amy's pony, Eustachio, the universal family pet.