Lady Blue

by Helen A Rosburg

  “But if she loves you as you say …”

  “All right, all right. Chalk it up to simple foolishness. But I want to do it my way.”

  “That’s how this whole conversation started … the topic of foolishness.”

  “Yes, you’re right. And I know you’re going to accuse me of it once again, but …”

  “But?”

  “I want you to take my mare, ride north at once. Today.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “I can easily hire a temporary coachman. He’ll never suspect a thing. But I need you to take care of things at home for me.”

  Sneed crossed his arms tightly, and stubbornly, across his chest. He shook his head firmly. “I won’t do it. I won’t.”

  “Who’s in charge here?”

  “Someone other than you as you’ve apparently taken leave of your senses.”

  “Everything will be all right, Sneed. I promise you. I’ll be careful. But you have to do this for me.”

  Sneed shook his head.

  “Please, Sneed. I want everything to be nice for her. Nobody even knows she’s coming.”

  “What about your mother? Don’t you think she deserves a bit of a warning?”

  “That’s one of the things you’re going to do at home. Tell her about all this. She’ll be delighted, I’m sure. Especially when she finally meets Harmony. Please, Sneed? You’re the only one who can do this for me. For us. It’s going to be hard enough on her as it is.”

  Sneed let his arms fall to his sides. “Welllll …”

  “Thank you, Sneed. Thank you.” Impetuously, Anthony embraced the older man. “Now I’m going to go sweet talk Maggie into more coffee.”

  “Good luck.” Sneed’s smile lasted only as long as it took for Anthony to leave the room. Then it slipped away and his eyes clouded over with concern.

  He had a very bad feeling about how this was all going to turn out.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The fawn was young enough to still wear its camouflaging spots. It stepped from the shade of the woodland into the sunlight and stopped. One ear twitched. It bent its head to nibble at the grassy verge that bordered the garden path.

  Harmony sat as still as a stone. The slight morning breeze was blowing in her face, so she knew the fawn had not caught her scent. If she made no movement, perhaps the animal would not see her either. It was a special moment, and she wanted to prolong it. It was the first genuine peace she had known in nearly three days.

  The fawn lifted its head, large brown eyes searching. It stepped over the brick path and stuck its nose into some mossy ground cover.

  Under her tender ministrations, the cover had only begun to grow this week, and now it appeared the deer would eat it. The fawn’s mother must be somewhere nearby. But Harmony didn’t care. Today was to be her last day under Agatha’s roof.

  A curious jubilation swelled in her breast. Soon she would be free of her sister, and bound to Anthony, the love of her life, forever. She did not yet know where she would live, or how she would live. But wherever it was, at least she would not have to sneak around. She would not have to worry about running into Agatha every time she turned a corner.

  The urge to take a deep breath was almost overpowering, but Harmony quelled it, afraid to disturb the fawn. It seemed she was afraid of many things lately. Afraid, for instance, that Agatha would see in her eyes that she was right; Harmony did fear what they might learn about Anthony. He was not, he had admitted to her, Lord Farmington. So, who was he? He had also said, however, he was genuinely titled, and she believed him. But he had added that although he had told her truths, he had not told her all of them. Would an unrevealed “truth” give Agatha the power to ruin what had grown between them?

  It was possible. Anything was possible. Agatha would do anything to destroy Harmony’s happiness; she knew it without doubt. She also knew her own patience was coming to an end. Another reason to avoid her sister was the likelihood that she just might wrap her hands around Agatha’s throat. How could anyone be so vicious? Especially to a member of one’s own family, the only family they had left in the world?

  Harmony didn’t know. She no longer cared either. She only wanted to be away, away with Anthony, away from Agatha. Even should Anthony prove to be the bandit he had initially claimed to be, she would marry him. She didn’t care. Her only fear was that if it did, indeed, prove to be the case, she had gotten away with Anthony before Agatha found out and tried to stop them.

  Perhaps the situation was, in a way, a blessing. If her love had to be put to a test, this was a good one. She hadn’t the slightest uncertainty about loving Anthony, marrying him. The moment he arrived she would fly into his arms. She would leave this cursed house, leave her sister, without a backward glance or a single pang of regret.

  Harmony took a deep breath, forgetful of the fawn. Its head snapped up and an instant later it bolted back into the sheltering shade of the trees. Harmony watched it go and rose from her bench seat. She was almost entirely packed. All she had to do was change into her traveling suit and fold away what she had on at the moment. She smiled to herself.

  The suit was the blue one Anthony had first seen her in. She would be, truly, his Lady Blue.

  Mrs. Rutledge stood in the doorway of the morning room and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Miss Simmons. I hate to disturb you, but—”

  “Then don’t,” Agatha snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “But a courier has arrived,” Mrs. Rutledge went on implacably. “He says he has a special delivery message for Miss Agatha Simmons.”

  “Why didn’t you say so at once?” Agatha rose in a swirl of pale gray silk and brushed past the housekeeper, who calmly moved aside. She followed her mistress down the corridor to the foyer.

  “Where is it? Give it to me,” Agatha demanded of the middle-aged, wiry man dressed in nondescript livery. He produced an envelope she snatched from his hand and immediately ripped open. She scanned the lines of the enclosed letter almost greedily. An uncharacteristic smile temporarily brightened her generally saturnine expression.

  “I knew it!” Agatha exulted. “Here’s my proof!”

  “Proof?” Mrs. Rutledge echoed.

  “Never mind. Get the coachman. Have him bring round my carriage at once.”

  “Have you forgotten, Miss Simmons? He turned in his notice and left several days ago.”

  “What? Oh … oh, yes.” Agatha turned to the wide-eyed man lingering in the doorway. “You came in a coach, did you not?”

  “Y-y-yes,” the man stammered.

  “Good. You’re hired. Come with me.”

  Mrs. Rutledge stood in the foyer and watched her mistress sail through the doorway, down the front steps, and along the front path, the driver in tow. She shook her head.

  Whatever had given her mistress such cause for excitement did not bode well for the younger Miss Simmons. Hopefully, her stay would be coming to an end sooner than expected. There had scarce been a moment’s peace in the house since the young strumpet had come to stay. Mrs. Rutledge gave a disapproving sniff and closed the front door.

  Several days of pushing the window open a little wider each time had finally loosened the ivy’s grip on the glass. Harmony was able to open it nearly all the way, which she did the moment she returned to her room. The sun climbed high toward noon and the day had grown almost stiflingly warm. Harmony leaned a way out the window to catch the breath of a passing breeze. And saw the coach standing in the drive.

  Her heart lurched. He had come.

  But no. It was not Anthony’s shining black coach, nor the four elegant horses that pulled it. Who could it be?

  Even as she wondered, she saw her sister emerge from the house. A small, thin man hurried in her wake. Agatha climbed into the coach without waiting for the driver’s assistance. She appeared to be in a hurry. It wasn’t like her.

  Harmony withdrew from the window, a sickening feeling blooming in the pit of her stomach.

  Wha
t was Agatha up to? Where was she going? The sickening feeling rose to the back of her throat.

  Agatha had said she was writing to someone in London, sending the letter by special courier. She had said she expected her answer by … today. An answer about Anthony’s true identity. Had it arrived?

  Harmony bent over suddenly, arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. She felt as if she had just received a blow to the abdomen.

  “Anthony,” she whispered. “Please come. Please come soon.”

  Lady Margaret held her pince-nez up to her eyes and read the letter Agatha had handed to her. She drew in her breath sharply and dropped the pince-nez to dangle by the chain around her neck. The piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

  “Agatha,” Lady Margaret said on an exhalation. “This is most shocking.”

  “It’s positively scandalous.” Agatha’s expression was grim, but her eyes glittered.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “That’s why I came to you, Lady Margaret. It was your good advice, and your husband’s connections, that helped to expose this … this evil charade. I must defer to you once again.”

  “Quite right. Quite right.” Lady Margaret paused for a moment in thought, then pressed a hand to her heart. “To think I had him as a guest of honor in my home!”

  “To say nothing of the fact he is affianced to my sister!” Agatha pulled a lacy handkerchief from inside the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed at her face with it.

  “My reputation as a hostess, as a woman of good character, will be ruined!” Lady Margaret reached behind her and yanked on a bell rope hanging to one side of the portrait of a nobleman standing beside a saddled horse. A uniformed servant appeared a scant moment later.

  “Bring me my fan and my salts,” Lady Margaret commanded.

  “I will never be able to hold up my head in the community again!” When the maid reappeared with the requested items, Lady Margaret snatched them from her and vigorously began to fan her face.

  “This is devastating, Agatha. We must think.”

  Agatha nodded gravely. “We must think, and we must act. Quickly. The charlatan is coming this very day to take Harmony away.”

  “No!”

  “It’s not to be borne, Lady Margaret. I must stop it. But how?”

  “Be quiet a moment. Let me think.” Lady Margaret closed her eyes, laid the fan and her salts aside, and pressed her hands to her temples. “The most important thing,” she said at length, “is to keep the entire thing hushed up.”

  “How is that possible?” Agatha mourned. Her initial excitement had turned to genuine distress. The ramifications were truly terrible. “If we expose him as an impostor, as we must, everyone will know. We really will be ruined! Both of us have had the wool pulled ignobly over our eyes,” Agatha finished. She thought it quite clever that she had inextricably bound Lady Margaret to her dilemma.

  Lady Margaret grew thoughtful. She pursed her lips and folded her hands in her lap. “The letter says only that there is no Lord Farmington, correct?”

  Agatha nodded. “Not living, anyway. The last to

  hold that title passed away eleven years ago. Childless.”

  “Why would this … Anthony Allen … need to hide his true identity, if not for some nefarious purpose?”

  “You … you mean you really think …?”

  “What else can I think?”

  Agatha’s eyes were wide. She hugged her arms to her breast. “He might really be the … the jewel thief?”

  “If it sounded plausible three days ago, why not now?”

  Agatha shivered. “It’s just so … so horrible to think of it. A thief among us in our very homes!”

  “Do not distress yourself, Agatha,” Lady Margaret said firmly. “He will not be among us much longer.”

  “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “The local authorities have been quite vexed about their inability to apprehend the criminal in our midst, operating right under their noses. I should think they would be most glad of information that will lead to his immediate arrest.”

  “But … but won’t that be worse for us? It’s bad enough if everyone finds out we had been taken in by, and harbored, a simple impostor. But a jewel thief!”

  “Calm yourself, Agatha. Please. You forget who you are dealing with.”

  Agatha squirmed in her seat. “I apologize, Lady Margaret. Still, I don’t see …”

  “Angus has some very powerful connections. I thought that had been proved to you.”

  “Well, yes, but …”

  “And we are the very pillars of this community, are we not?”

  “Oh, certainly. Yes, Lady Margaret.”

  “Then I beg you to have some forbearance. Many things can be accomplished by people in … our position.”

  “Of course … of course, Lady Margaret!”

  Lady Margaret once again reached for the bell rope and tugged it. The maid appeared with familiar alacrity.

  “Have the coach prepared, Cynthia,” Lady Margaret ordered. “And inform my husband I have need of him. Hurry up, now. Off with you!”

  “Where … where are you going?” Agatha squeaked.

  “To the authorities, of course. Angus and I must inform them that the perpetrator of the monstrous villainies that have taken place in our fair village has been unmasked. We must arrange for his capture.”

  “But …”

  “The whole sordid affair will be kept quiet, I assure you. Lord Farmington is going to disappear as quickly and mysteriously as he appeared. I have a plan …”

  Anthony stood outside the rundown livery stable and glared at the fat, balding man who had professed to be able to drive a coach and four. That had been inside the musty stable where Anthony had found him. Now, looking at the carriage and the horses standing outside his establishment, the man seemed less sure of himself.

  “Well,” Anthony said impatiently. “Either you can drive it or you can’t. Which is it?”

  “I dunno.” The man scratched his naked, pink scalp. “Them be some pretty fancy horses. What they be called?”

  Anthony sighed with impatience. “They’re Hackneys. Hackney horses.”

  “Hey!” The man brightened. “I heard o’ them. High steppers, ain’t they?”

  “Yes. Yes, they are. Can you drive them or not?”

  “Where you git ‘em?”

  “I breed them, actually. Not that it’s any of your burning concern. Can you drive them?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Good. Wonderful. Let’s get going.”

  “Wait there half a minute, Mr. Fancy Pants. There’s a little matter of me pay.”

  Anthony reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small leather sac. He bounced it once on his palm, then tossed it to the driver. “I believe this will do.”

  The man hefted the bag’s weight, eyes bulging. “I guess it will.”

  “Can we get going, then?”

  “After you, young gentleman, sir.” The man made

  to open the coach door, but Anthony stopped him.

  “I think I’ll ride up beside you,” he said. “For a way, at least. Just to make sure you’re as … proficient as you say you are.”

  “Have it your way.”

  The two men climbed up on the bench seat. The driver took the reins and shook them. Nothing happened.

  “The brake,” Anthony growled, exasperated. “You have to release the brake!”

  “Oh … oh, yeah.” The driver pushed the handle forward and shook the reins again. The team moved forward onto the main roadway.

  The stable Anthony had found was on the outskirts of the city, and within a few minutes they had left the London traffic behind. The horses trotted smartly along on the open road.

  “Let them have a little more rein,” Anthony advised. “They can move out at a much brisker pace.”

  The driver gave the lines another modest shake. It was more than Anthony could stand. The urgency growing within him had r
eached an intolerable pitch. He grabbed the reins from the startled man, pulled the carriage whip from its holder, and snapped the lash sharply. The coach surged forward.

  “Hang on!” he yelled to the driver. He snapped the whip again and the horses broke into a gallop. He knew suddenly, inexplicably, he had no more time to waste.

  For the hundredth time that afternoon, Harmony walked to her bedroom window and looked out over the drive. It remained empty. No sign of a coach. Not since Agatha’s return. Harmony turned her back to the window.

  Where had Agatha gone? She had thought, surely, that upon her return Agatha would be bursting with news of some kind. But there had been nothing. Something had to be afoot. But what? Not knowing was almost worse than whatever horrible thing Agatha might have to tell her.

  Please, Anthony, Harmony prayed. Please hurry.

  Hands clasped tightly together, Harmony crossed to her dressing table. Also for the hundredth time that day, she nervously inspected her reflection. Anthony would be pleased, she was certain. She forced a smile to her lips.

  The sapphire blue of the suit matched her eyes to perfection. She had pulled her hair back from her face and curled it into ringlets that tumbled down her back. She had her gloves ready, and her jaunty little traveling hat. All the bags were packed. She was ready to go. More than ready to become Anthony’s wife.

  A thrill of pleasure coursed through Harmony’s limbs. It intensified when she heard the familiar crunch of carriage wheels on the gravel drive.

  Her first instinct was to run to the window and make sure it was Anthony’s coach. But it had to be him. Of course it was him!

  Harmony flew from her room to the corridor. She picked up her skirts and ran to the stairs and took them, dangerously, two at a time. One more length of hallway, one more turn …

  Harmony rounded the corner into the foyer and stopped dead in her tracks, panting.