'The younger one,' Oliver replied. 'I understood he was here visiting his uncle.'
'I don't know about that, sir,' the woman said. 'Gorse Cottage's been empty this six months or more. The old man died beginning of the year. Landlord found him when he came to collect the rent. Of course, nobody much bothered with him. They said he had relatives in London or somewheres about, but we never saw no visitors come.'
Oliver frowned. 'What about the young man who came here? When did you last see him?'
'Not for a week or so now, I shouldn't think. Hush Jane, I'll see to you shortly.' The woman sighed as she hiked the baby higher on her hip. 'Nice-looking young man, but definitely one for the ladies. I saw him come here with two of the girls from the village, and they all acting silly and giggling, as young girls will.'
Anger rose in Oliver's breast, but he struggled not to show it. 'I am grateful for your help, my good lady.' He walked back towards her and reaching into his pocket, pulled out a sovereign. 'Take this and buy something for you and your family.'
The woman looked at the gold coin in disbelief. 'A sovereign?' she whispered. 'You'd give so much to a stranger?'
Oliver smiled. 'What you just told me is worth that much.'
'Then I wish I could have told you more.' The woman winked at him as she tucked the coin in her pocket. 'I bid you thanks, sir, and a fine day to you.'
Oliver tipped his hat and watched her walk away. Then he turned to glance at the empty building behind him. So he had uncovered yet another of Wymington's lies. He wondered how many more there would be. For while it might well have been his uncle's cottage, it certainly wasn't to visit the old man that Wymington had come. Obviously he was using the cottage for his own purposes, not the least of which included a love nest—perhaps even one where he had hoped to lure Gillian.
A dangerous light glinted in Oliver's eyes. Yes, it was well he had set out on his course of action. Because he would find Sidney Wymington. And when he did, he would give him the thrashing he so richly deserved.
The only question was—where the hell was Wymington now?
'Non credo di aver avuto illpiacere,' Helen said as she wrote the words on the chalkboard. 'Which means, I do not believe I have had the pleasure. Now, if you knew the person to whom you were being introduced, you would say—'
'Credo che ci conosciamo,' Oliver recited from the doorway.
As the girls began to giggle, Helen felt her cheeks grow warm. 'Mr Brandon!'
'Miss de Coverdale. Forgive my interrupting you in such a manner.'
Helen went to put the piece of chalk down—and promptly dropped it on the floor. 'That is quite all right.' She bent to pick it up, and stepped on the hem of her gown. 'We were just...finishing for the day.' Blushing furiously, she smiled at her class. 'Thank you ladies. A domani.'
The girls offered a chorus of replies and then gathered up their books and filed out of the room. Oliver waited until the last of their footsteps had faded into silence before advancing further into the room. 'So, you have decided to leave Guarding's.'
Helen inclined her head. 'Mrs Guarding asked me to stay on until Christmas because we are still short-staffed. Otherwise I would already have gone.' She averted her gaze, wishing it wasn't so hard to see him like this. 'Have you come to...take Gillian home?'
'Yes. I would have been here earlier but I thought to pay a call on Mr Wymington. I went to the cottage where his uncle supposedly lived.'
Helen started. 'Supposedly?'
'A woman passing by told me that the man who owned the house died at least six months ago.'
'Six months!' Helen blanched. 'But...if that is the case, Mr Wymington must have intended—'
'Yes, I think we both know what Wymington intended,' Oliver interrupted darkly. 'He did have a key, so I can only assume it was his uncle's cottage, but he certainly did not come here to pay him any visits.'
'Mr Brandon, I hardly know what to say.'
'There's nothing to say, except to acknowledge that we were both correct in our assumptions about him. Which is why I think it best I take Gillian back to Hertfordshire as soon as possible. I cannot trust Wymington to keep his distance, and at the moment, I'm not sure I trust Gillian to keep hers either.' Oliver drew a deep breath. 'Nor am I convinced she would not agree to do something foolish if Wymington were to suggest it.'
Helen blanched. 'You think they might elope?'
'I cannot rule the possibility out. What I have learned of Wymington's character over the past few weeks has only served to deepen my dislike of him. He hasn't an honourable bone in his body, and for what it's worth, I am grateful to you for having confirmed my suspicions.'
'Is that why you came here now?' Helen asked.
'That, and to tell you that I intend to speak to Mrs Guarding about reinstating your position here.'
Helen gazed at him in confusion. 'What?'
'There is no reason for you to leave the school, Miss de Coverdale,' Oliver said, his tone reflecting both warmth and concern for her. 'I was...angry when I spoke to Mrs Guarding. I was disappointed by what I perceived to be your betrayal. But I realise now that it wasn't a betrayal at all. You were simply doing what you thought best for Gillian. And in light of what you told me about your own past, how could I fault your motives? That is why I intend to speak to Mrs Guarding and assure her that I would be most pleased if you would return to your position here.' His mouth pulled into a thin-lipped smile. 'I only hope you will not think too badly of me for what has happened.'
'I could...never think badly of you, sir,' Helen said, painfully aware of the truth of the statement. 'I am just...surprised by the sudden turn of events. Are you going to see Gillian now?'
'I intend to speak to Mrs Guarding first. Then I shall see Gillian. Well, I suppose this really is goodbye, Miss de Coverdale.'
Not trusting her voice, Helen bent her head and curtseyed. There was so much she wanted to say to him, and yet not a word of it was appropriate. Likewise keeping his silence, Oliver merely bowed from the waist, and then turned and left the room.
After he had gone, Helen slowly sank down at her desk. She thought about everything he had told her, including the forgiveness he wished her to have, and then sadly closed her eyes. What was she to do? The man she loved was walking out of her life.
And there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him.
As expected, Mrs Guarding was greatly relieved to hear that Oliver no longer wished to see Miss de Coverdale leave. His assurances that nothing would be served by her resignation were warmly received, as were his hopes that the slight breach of conduct could be discreetly overlooked. The headmistress did express her regrets that Gillian would be leaving them, but she did not try to change Oliver's mind. She merely thanked him for his leniency in allowing Helen to stay, and then sent one of the girls to fetch Gillian.
'She retired to her room with a megrim last night,' Mrs Guarding informed him. 'I understand she has stayed to her bed this morning with it as well.'
Oliver nodded his understanding. 'No doubt as a result of my coming to take her home.'
Unfortunately, it was with considerable surprise that they both learned a short while later that Gillian was, in fact, not in her room.
'Perhaps she was feeling better and decided to come downstairs, Mr Brandon,' the headmistress said.
'I believe she is scheduled for a class with Miss de Coverdale. I shall send a note and ask her to bring Gillian here.'
'That is quite all right,' Oliver said, already heading for the door. 'I shall go and fetch her myself.'
But Gillian was not in Helen's room, nor had Helen seen her that morning. And upon hearing as much, Oliver began to feel the first real stirrings of alarm.
'I think we should commence a search of the building,' he said, 'followed by a thorough check of the gardens and the—'
'Excuse me, Miss de Coverdale, Mr Brandon.'
Oliver broke off and turned to see Elizabeth Brookwell standing in the doorway. She was holding
something in her hand and it was clear from the expression on her face that she was far from happy.
'What is it, Miss Brookwell?' Helen said quickly.
'I have a letter, Miss de Coverdale. For Mr Brandon.' The girl's voice .was noticeably subdued. 'Gillian asked me to...give it to him when he arrived.'
'When did you last see Gillian?' Helen asked as Oliver went forward to take it.
'Very early this morning, Miss. She was dressed for going out, but when I asked her where she was going, she wouldn't tell me. She just gave me this letter and said I was to make sure Mr Brandon received it.' Elizabeth's bottom lip quivered. 'She said I wasn't to give it to him until this evening, but I thought it best not to wait that long.'
'Thank you, Miss Brookwell, you may go.'
As the girl silently departed, Oliver broke the seal and read the letter aloud.
*Dear Oliver:
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have left with Mr Wymington. I know you do not approve of him, but I love him, and I could not bear the thought of being forced into marriage with someone else—especially someone I do not even know. Please do not worry about me. Mr Wymington loves me and has promised to take good care of me. He assures me this is the only way we can be together. I shall write again once we are husband and wife.
'Love, Gillian,' Oliver finished on a whisper. Helen felt as though the room was spinning all around her. 'Dear God, we must stop them!'
'We must indeed, but how much of a head start have they?'
Thankfully, a visit to the stables provided them with the answers they needed. One of the lads had chanced to see a closed carriage drawn by a single horse pull up to the back door of the school around five o'clock that morning, and minutes later, a young lady dressed in a travelling cloak and carrying a small case emerge from the school and climb up beside the gentleman.
It seemed that Mr Wymington had indeed, persuaded Gillian to elope with him.
Helen began to tremble. 'They will head for Scotland.'
Oliver nodded. 'Without question. Which is why I must set off immediately.' His expression was bleak. 'Wymington has only one horse, but the gig is light and they have the advantage of a considerable head start.'
'Poor foolish girl,' Helen whispered. 'She has no idea what she is doing.'
'Of course not. To her, it will all be some great adventure. I only hope to God I can catch them before it is too late.'
'Let me come with you, Mr Brandon,' Helen cried suddenly. 'I can't help but feel that I am partially to blame for what has happened.'
'This isn't your fault, Miss de Coverdale, but I would be grateful for your company. It is imperative that we find them!'
Helen did not voice her unspoken thoughts as she hurried towards his waiting carriage. They had to find the miscreant pair indeed. All they could do was hope that it wasn't already too late.
Chapter Thirteen
Drawn by a pair of fleet-footed blacks, Oliver's carriage made excellent time along the dusty road. Assuming that Wymington would head for Gretna, they set out on an identical path and drew comfort from the fact that they could travel the road faster with two horses than Wymington could with one. But Wymington had the advantage of time, and in a race like this, every second counted!
Helen said very little on the frenzied drive north. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to offer aimless conversation. Oliver too was restrained, fixing his concentration on the team and on maintaining a steady pace.
'They cannot be so very far ahead of us,' he said, his eyes scanning the horizon. 'Thank God they set off this morning and not last night. Otherwise we would be too late to save her, even now.'
Helen knew all too well what Oliver was referring to. Had Gillian been forced to spend even one night at an inn with Mr Wymington, her reputation would have been irrevocably lost. The best they could have hoped for then was marriage.
They passed through a number of small villages as they headed for the border. Oliver stopped at one coaching inn to enquire about the passage of a gig carrying a young lady and a gentleman, and described them as best he could. Most fortuitously, he was given the very good news that yes, a young couple matching their description had stopped there a little while earlier, but that they had carried on after only a brief delay. And no, they had not gone in for a meal or anything else, as far as the man could remember. Oliver had nodded his satisfaction, and then urged the horses on.
Finally, a few hours later, Helen gasped as she spotted a small carriage drawn by a single horse away in the distance ahead of them. 'Look, Mr Brandon, there!'
'Yes, I see them.' Oliver flicked the whip over his horses' heads with renewed vigour. 'It would seem we are to be spared a considerable amount of grief. Tell me, Miss de Coverdale; Would you be able to drive this carriage if forced by circumstances to do so?'
Surprised, Helen glanced at him. 'Yes, I am sure I could.'
'Good. There was a decent-looking inn in the last village we passed. Perhaps you would take Gillian back there and wait for me while I deal with Mr Wymington.'
'Yes, of course.'
'Good. Now, I suggest you hold on. I am going to try to overtake them.'
It was a daring move. The road was considerably narrower here than it had been in other places, and Helen gasped as Oliver closed the distance and then urged his carriage alongside Mr Wymington's, causing them both to sway and bounce precariously. She forgot her nervousness, however, when she saw Gillian's white face staring back at her.
'Draw to a halt, sir!' Oliver shouted. 'You can go no farther!'
Wymington turned to glare at them, an ugly expression marring the handsome lines of his face. For a moment, Helen wondered if he would ignore Oliver's order and push on regardless. But he must have seen something in Oliver's face that convinced him of the futility of continued flight. Reluctantly, he drew the lathered bay to a halt.
Oliver sprang down and ignoring Wymington, went immediately to see to Gillian. 'Are you all right?' he asked as she shakily emerged from the carriage.
Gillian's eyes were the size of saucers. 'Of course, but...what are you doing here?'
'I have come to take you home. Surely you did not think I would allow this abomination to take place!'
'But I love him!' she cried desperately.
'I will hear no more of this, Gillian,' Oliver snapped. 'Go with Miss de Coverdale. She will see you safely back.'
'Why? What are you going to do?'
'I am going to have a word with Mr Wymington.'
Impulsively, Gillian reached for his arm. 'He did not force me to come, Oliver. Please, you must believe me. I am here of my own free will!'
'Yes, no doubt after he convinced you of how wonderful your life together would be.' Oliver glanced at Helen and she saw the anger shimmering in his eyes. 'Take her back to the inn and wait for me.'
Helen nodded, and moved towards Gillian. 'Come, my dear. We must leave here.'
'Oliver, please don't hurt him!' Gillian cried.
'Do as I say, Gillian!'
Sobbing, Gillian put her hand to her mouth. She ran back to Oliver's carriage and flung herself into the seat.
'Take me away from here,' she cried as Helen climbed up beside her.
Suppressing a sigh, Helen gathered up the reins and set the pair to a brisk trot. Gillian obviously had no desire to stay and listen to what Oliver had to say to her beloved Mr Wymington.
Gillian was very quiet on the ride back to the Rose and Crown, and wisely, Helen did not press her for conversation. A great deal had happened over the past twelve hours and she had no doubt that Gillian was trying to make sense of it all. Only a short time ago, she had been headed for Scotland with the man she planned to marry. Now, she was driving back to an inn with a former teacher at her side, after having left her dashing young man at the side of the road to face a very angry and displeased guardian. Indeed, there was much for her to think about.
Helen, however, was not sorry for the silence. It gave her ample opportuni
ty to focus her attention on her driving. While she was relieved that the blacks had such responsive mouths, they were spirited creatures demanding of her full attention. She did not wish to put them at a hole and risk possible injury to the animals or to themselves.
Fortunately, it wasn't long before she got the feel of the reins back and was able to relax a little. But she could not relax her mind, filled as it was with the enormity of everything that had happened. What would Oliver do now? What was he saying to poor Mr Wymington? Helen knew she was probably foolish to feel any kind of pity for the man, but she would not have wished to be in his place. Oliver's anger would be frightful, and while she knew that duels were seldom fought in England any more, this would be a matter of honour. Helen was quite sure that, given the type of man Oliver was, he would demand justice.
At the Rose and Crown, Helen asked the landlord for a room where they might rest awhile and then ordered a light meal for Gillian. The poor child had not eaten anything, given that Mr Wymington had been anxious to reach his destination. Helen had no stomach for food, and ordered nothing for herself. Instead, she sat next to Gillian at the table and tried to break through the girl's wall of silence.
'Did you really think about what you were doing?' Helen asked gently. 'Your brother was nearly beside himself with worry.'
Tears bubbled in Gillian's eyes. 'Sidney told me he loved me. He said he...wanted to marry me.' She looked up at Helen and her mouth began to quiver. 'He even showed me the ring he had bought.'
As Gillian began to weep in earnest, Helen pulled her into her arms and held her close. Poor child. How hard it must all seem to her. Indeed, Helen remembered all too well the pain and the grief she had suffered in the days following her separation from Thomas. At times, she had wondered if she would ever stop crying.
'I know this seems like the end of the world, Gillie,' Helen whispered against her hair, 'but you must believe it is for the best. Mr Wymington was dashing and handsome, but he was not an honourable man. I know that is hard for you to accept, but I am telling you the truth, dearest. He would have taken advantage of you.'
The Guardian's Dilemma Page 15