His good mood evaporated almost immediately and Edmund forsook his stroll to jog down the street, reaching Mr Turner and Colonel Brierley in a moment.
“Good afternoon! Is there a problem?”
“A problem? Yes, you may well say - oh, Mr Gale. Excellent, yes.” Mr Turner was looking rumpled, and he removed his hat to rake his hand through his hair, worsening its appearance considerably before turning back to the milling crowd that was drawing around them. “Have you seen a young lady, by any chance?”
Edmund grasped Mr Turner’s arm, firmly but not unkindly, and forced the man to look at him.
“What has happened?”
“Why, it is Louisa.” Mr Turner blinked as if he could not quite believe the words to be true, even as he uttered them.
“What about her?”
“She is gone.”
Edmund frowned, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of his friend’s words.
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Gone.” Mr Turner shrugged his shoulders, blinking rapidly as if he, too, was struggling to process this information. “Vanished. Disappeared. We cannot find her anywhere.”
Edmund could sense the growing interest of a crowd and, fearing to provoke gossip and put both Louisa and her family at the centre of a scandal that might not exist, he took the arms of both gentlemen and steered them across the threshold of the nearest inn. Securing them a quiet table, he ordered a healthy measure of brandy for each of them and waited until they had drunk to ask the question again.
“Tell me from the beginning,” he said, addressing his question to Mr Turner, whilst keeping a keen eye on the man’s brother-in-law, who seemed to be handling the disaster with far less grace than Mr Turner.
“We did not realise she was not at home,” Mr Turner confessed, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his forehead. “We thought she merely kept to her room, sleeping late. You know how Louisa can be...”
Edmund nodded, recalling many a time he had called at Aston House only to find her slowly emerging from slumber at some surprisingly late hour.
“Juliet went to invite her out - she spent the afternoon with your mother, you see. I suppose she might be home now, and she will have to be told. Oh dear...”
“Mr Turner,” Edward said, sharply but not unkindly.
“Ah, yes.” The older man swallowed. “Well, in any case, Juliet went to her room and found it empty. We all assumed that Louisa was out with friends, you see, she is such a gregarious, outgoing young lady - well, you know. She makes friends everywhere she goes!”
Edmund nodded, although he did not quite have as much faith in Louisa’s ability to make only friends wherever she went. He had witnessed enough of her feuds over the years to think it entirely possible she made enemies with equal ease, but now was not the time for that. And in any case, a falling out over a hair-ribbon is hardly cause for a disappearance!
“Have you managed to track down her friends and ask them?” he asked, making a mental list of names so that he might aid the two elder gentlemen in their task.
“Well, that is the dilemma!” Mr Turner confessed. “We know of none.” He seemed to recognise Edmund before him for the first time and leaned forward, grasping tightly to his arm. “Do you know? You and Juliet, surely you know other young people in London, those that might know Louisa, places she might like to go to?”
Edmund smiled, wishing to be reassuring but all the while unnerved by this question. He did not have the first idea who Louisa was friends with in London, and all of the places that he was fond of frequenting he could not imagine housing his dainty little friend. His heart sank. There was one person Louisa knew in London, and who would have any number of places in mind where they might spend their time, away from the care of her family and the interference of his.
“I have an idea - not where to find her, but an idea of someone who might have seen her.” He glanced at his watch, trying to calculate how long Louisa had been missing from the vague account he had received from her uncle and father. His heart grew stony. Nash would not be so foolish, surely, as to elope?
He is engaged to another, he reminded himself, but even that excuse felt hollow when he recalled his meeting with Nash’s aunt and cousin that day. The engagement was surely not a happy one, nor any circumstance Nash rejoiced in.
Let us imagine he might be desperate enough to consider it, then, surely we can give Louisa more credit than that. She is no fool. She would not allow herself to be swept away by the impetuous, foolish actions of a gentleman who is not free to offer for her.
This thought comforted him for all of half a moment. He recalled the lovesick look Louisa had worn at the assembly when he caught sight of her and Nash, and his heart sank still further. Yes, he could just see how the matter might play out. Louisa, affronted at being the only one of her sisters not engaged or married would be eager for any sort of admiration. And Nash was adept at getting what he wanted. Was Edmund himself not a testament to that, having housed his friend at cost for the past several months?
He will not throw away his chance at an estate, he told himself. Not for as modest a dowry as Louisa Turner might offer.
Yet, had not people done more foolish things throughout history on account of love? If Nash’s affections for Louisa were genuine, and Edmund had to believe they were, might he justify any action he chose to take as the actions of a man in love? Nash was flighty and idiotic, charming to a fault, but he was not cruel. He did not make a habit of encouraging ladies he had no feeling for.
I only hope his feelings for Louisa are genuine, he thought, grimly. For if my fears are correct and they have run away together, he shall have no way out of this mess but to marry her!
Chapter Fifteen
By the time they tripped over the threshold of the small inn partway along their journey, Louisa was exhausted. Her limbs and joints ached from the combination of being cramped into the corner of a carriage and jostled with every turn of the wheel, for whilst they had broken their journey, their travel was far less comfortable than that which she was used to.
Nash did not seem to mind it, for he chattered with his fellow travellers and moved as if he was used to such discomforts and found them amusing, rather than painful.
“M’dear,” he said, turning and passing her the key to the room she had insisted on taking, separate from his. That he had even hesitated when the innkeeper enquired after their requirements made her blush scarlet, even now, although he had, at length, declared they would require two rooms.
“Aren’t we to dine?” Louisa asked, casting an anxious glance into the dining area, which was dominated with loud, male voices, with only one or two spare tables open to them. A whiff of stew caught Louisa’s nostrils and her stomach growled with hunger.
“I thought you would prefer to take a tray to your room, Lou,” Nash remarked, his attention already captured by a tense card game that was taking place in one corner of the room. “Surely this is no place for a lady.” He winked as he said it and Louisa snatched the key from him, stalking upstairs without a backwards glance. Where was the doting Nash Weston she thought she knew? The man who would lay his coat over a puddle to save her shoes when they walked?
I wonder if he ever existed at all, she thought, miserably. Reaching the numbered room that was to be hers, she placed the key in the lock, jiggling it and reinserting it several times until at last the lock caught and turned, and the door swung open on creaking hinges. The little room was clean but sparse, yet Louisa did not seem to notice. In a stupor, she stumbled across the bare wooden floor and flopped face-first onto the bed, ignoring the vaguely musty smell of the worn cotton bedspread.
What have I done? She curled up on the bed, not even bothering to remove her shoes. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks and she drew in a ragged, shaky breath. She hugged her knees into her chest and thought over all that had happened today. She might have imagined some hardships on their road to romance, but she had never imagined this! Holed up - alo
ne! - in an anonymous inn, with no word of what would happen next. She had barely succeeded in drawing Nash to speak of his plans for the next leg of their journey, only that it would continue tomorrow, at first light.
There was a light knock at the door and for one wild, fleeting moment, Louisa thought it might be Nash, coming to apologise and to escort her down to dinner. Maybe he had had a word with the innkeeper and arranged for them to have a table in the back, somewhere quiet. There would be a clean white table-cloth and candles, and their dinner would be brought to them on silver platters, and they would eat and talk and smile...
“One moment!” she called, hurrying to her feet. There was a small wash-stand with dusty-looking water but she poured some into the bowl, all the same, splashing her face and washing her hands. She raked damp fingers through her hair, plastering down those curls which had come loose with the exertion of travelling and began to feel the tiniest bit more human again. It was not the same as if she had had her own home-comforts on hand, but it was better than she had looked and felt even a few moments earlier. Tripping lightly to the door, she pulled it open, smiling and agreeing to Nash’s suggestion before it was even made.
“Dinner, Miss?”
Her smile fell. It was not Nash that stood before her but an old, weary-looking servant, who held out a tray of tea, jam and bread. Louisa did not reach out for it right away and the woman shrugged, causing the tea things to rattle.
“The gentleman said you were tired and wished to take a small supper in your room.” She held the tray out and dumbly Louisa took it, standing open-mouthed as she watched the woman slope off.
There would be no elegant dinner with Nash, then. No candlelight, no linens.
For a moment Louisa had the fleeting urge to jettison the entire tray, to launch it at the floor and relish the sound of crashing plates and broken crockery. She resisted, though, setting it down on a low table that must serve as dresser, end-table, writing desk and all. She was very hungry and eyed the thick slice of fresh bread with eagerness. Her hands shook as she poured her tea, and spread thick, homemade strawberry jam on the bread, cramming half a slice into her mouth in one go.
I am just weary from travel, she told herself, already feeling her spirits lift a little with the first few bites of food. I will eat and sleep and tomorrow I will feel better again. This is what I wanted, after all. She swallowed, reaching for her tea and washing the bread and jam down with one scalding sip. This is exactly what I wanted.
THIS IS NOT WHAT I wanted, Nash thought, as he nursed a watered-down beer and watched two burly-looking men proceed to arm-wrestle, as a group of their friends noisily cheered one or other of them on, wagering extravagantly on the outcome.
The last look Louisa had given him had been piteous, filled with reproach, and it was that he saw whenever he closed his eyes. That, and his aunt. He could just imagine her thrashing about the house, calling him every name under the sun and trying to orchestrate some way to manage the social fall-out from his flight. She would cut him off completely, or she would construct some other story to save face, but either way, he would not escape without feeling the full force of her wrath. He shuddered, lifting his glass and draining it in a long, bitter swig. He waved it to the innkeeper, who took it from him and refilled it, returning it to him with a vague nod.
There was nothing to be gained from lingering here. He had no money to speak of, or not enough to waste on gambling, even if he could be certain of a return. He eyed his fellow drinkers warily, thinking that these would not be so gentlemanly about debts as his friends might have been.
His heart sank. He had not thought about how this would affect his friends. The story would spread like wildfire. How could it not? Edmund owed him nothing, and when he discovered that Nash had not only fled his obligations but persuaded Louisa Turner to come with him, there would be no mercy. His hand shook as he lifted his glass. They would notice she was gone now. The family would be frantic, tearing about London looking for her. Not for the effect their disappearance would have on his family did he lament, but for the Turners. They had been nothing but kind to him, welcoming him as one of their own friends. He thought of kind-hearted Mr Turner, so like the father he might have wanted in place of his own. Of Mrs Turner, who was everything his self-interested, proud aunt was not. Of the sisters, all of whom would be his now, too, once he and Louisa were married. Would it be enough, he wondered, the fact of their marriage, to overcome the scandal of how it had come about? It will have to be, Nash counselled himself. There is no turning back now.
The door to the inn banged open and on reflex, Nash glanced towards it, never once expecting to recognise the late arrival. When he did, his blood ran cold in his veins and it was pure luck that he managed to keep hold of his cup, setting it shakily down on the table next to him and backing away as Edmund Gale strode into the inn.
“Excuse me,” he called to the innkeeper. “Is there a man here by the name of Gale?”
He was breathless with the exertion of riding, for his clothes suggested he had come without a carriage. It would be quicker, Nash supposed, if his goal had been pursuit. He was not quick enough to conceal himself, or perhaps he did not truly wish to. Here was the escape he had longed for, however much he dreaded it.
“I am here,” he murmured, stepping forward and greeting Edmund with a wary smile. “Well travelled, Ed. You have discovered us.”
The tiniest shadow flickered across Edmund’s face at that single word, us. In it, his worst fears were confirmed, and he looked as if he could quite contentedly lash out at his friend.
“Where is Louisa?” he asked, pulling off his gloves and dropping them next to him on the bar.
“In her room.” Nash took a step back, eager to put some space between him and his furious friend, and noticing then, as he never had before, that whilst Edmund matched him in height and gait, he was a little broader about the shoulders. That would make all the difference, were the two to come to blows. Blows? He shook his head. This was Edmund. There would be no resorting to violence.
“In her room,” Nash reiterated. “We travel as companions, Ed, so do not act rashly -”
“Rashly?” Edmund hissed, glancing over his shoulder to be sure he had not been overheard. “You persuade an impressionable young girl to run away with you and now counsel me against acting rashly? Just what did you expect to gain from this?”
“I don’t know,” Nash blurted, after a long moment of silence, interrupted only by heckling and shouts from the betting corner. Nash shook his head, his eyes blurring with unshed tears as he realised the enormity of the disservice he had done to Louisa. He cared for her, yes, but if he truly loved her, as he claimed, he ought never to have led her into such a misadventure as this. The disappointed backward glance she had offered him as she climbed the stairs to the room he had taken in a falsified name taunted him, then, a reminder of the position he had placed her in.
“Did you even plan to marry her at all?” Edmund asked, raking a hand through his hair and looking older and wearier than Nash could ever recall having seen him before. “What was your goal here? You sought to hurt her, to hurt the Turners?”
“No!” Nash insisted, holding out a placating hand he removed only when Edmund looked as if he might prefer to rip it from his body. He dropped his arm to his side fumbling with his cufflink. “I meant to marry her. I mean to. But my aunt...she never would have allowed it. You have met her.” He let out a low, bitter laugh. “Could you ever see her giving up her own dreams to allow me to pursue my own?”
“That is no excuse.”
“It is not,” Nash agreed. “But I felt desperate. She had me married before I had even been given the chance to properly know my fiancée, had shared the good tidings of a de facto engagement before I had ever even posed the question to Miss Carter.” Nash swallowed. “I confess, I flirted and played the game with Louisa in the countryside. I was enjoying my liberty, knowing it would come to its end all too soon. That was why I was so
reluctant to come back to London. I daresay I outstayed my welcome a little and you were eager to at last be rid of me.” He smiled, but Edmund remained stony-faced and silent. “When I saw Louisa again, at the assembly, I realised what I had walked away from and I realised I shouldn’t - I couldn’t - live my life without her.” He sank his head into his hands. “I saw no other solution than this, but I am - I am sorry, Ed.” He lifted his gaze, hoping to see something like forgiveness in his old friend’s features.
Edmund did not smile, but his voice softened, almost imperceptibly, and had Nash not known him so long or so well he would have missed the tiniest way his frown relaxed.
“You are a fool, Weston. And you’ll not live this down easily.” He let out a long sigh. “But I dare say you will live it down eventually. Come, let’s fetch Louisa and make for London. It is late, but not so late that travelling this evening is out of the question.” He glanced around the inn, barely concealing his disgust with a curl of his lip. “I do not imagine either of you would prefer to remain here when you might be at home.”
Home. Nash nodded, for he well saw the wisdom in this plan for Louisa. Louisa would be welcomed back, would have a room ready and waiting for her at her aunt’s house. As for Nash’s aunt...
“She knows, I suppose? My aunt, I mean.”
“She is aware that something is amiss.” Edmund fixed him with an unflinching look. “I do not know how much she will have pieced together from my enquiry, although I sought to be circumspect. It is lucky I found you here at all, a hunch following a question following a hope.”
“I am glad you did,” Nash confessed. “It was wrong - I was wrong and I - I am sorry, Ed.”
“It is not me you need to apologise to,” Edmund said, stiffly. “And I doubt that this is the last apology you’ll be forced to make in light of this.” He glanced at his watch, then at the darkened windows. “Come, let’s not linger any longer. We have quite a journey back and Louisa’s family must know she is safe.”
A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3) Page 11