“Graham,” Ethan answered, his eyes never leaving Odette’s face. “Thank you. I think I will.” He walked off into the bedroom. The three women followed closely.
He stopped at the threshold and surveyed the darkened room. Cara came up behind him with a candle. Her breath brushed the back of his neck. “Perhaps the candle will make your search easier.”
“Thank you,” he said with admirable composure. He took the candle from her and walked over to the window. “You can see here how the tree branch rests on the sill—an easy route of entry for any thief, Mrs. Wright.”
Odette leaned out the window. “Indeed, yes, Mister Graham. But you can also see that the tree grows close to the building in several places. The attic, for example, would be a more logical place for a thief to enter. Perhaps in the darkness you mistook the window? In fact,” she continued, a thought striking her, “it might be wise to search the entire inn. He could be anywhere.” She turned to Ethan. “What did he look like?”
“I think it is unlikely I mistook the window,” he said doubtfully. “But since he is obviously not in this room, I agree it would be a good idea to search the inn. As for his appearance, he was a young, very slim boy. I didn’t see his face clearly.”
Odette gave an inward sigh of relief. “How did you come to spot him?” she asked but immediately regretted her question when he turned his deceptively mild attention back to her.
“I saw him leap onto the luggage rack of a moving coach, Miss Odette. A rather daring maneuver don’t you agree. Are you alright, Miss Mills?”
“Yes, quite. I must be catching Odette’s cough.”
“Since I was also headed to Hampstead, I rode as close as possible. However, I lost sight of the coach about a quarter mile back. It was just happenstance that I saw him climb up the tree.”
“Are you sure it was the same boy?” Cara asked.
He looked at her and drew in a breath. “I cannot be entirely sure, but I believe so.”
“Well, it’s all very strange,” Cara declared. She shook back her dark red curls distracting him momentarily. “I do hope you’re satisfied we’re not harboring a fugitive or plotting dark conspiracies.”
He bowed his head slightly, and she noticed for the first time the exotically slashed eyebrows and dark eyes. “You are certainly not harboring a fugitive, Miss Mills.”
Odette’s artless laugh came out a little shrill. “Fugitives! Conspiracies! I think I might swoon!”
Ethan smiled at her tolerantly. “Certainly nothing so exciting… perhaps just a young prankster.”
“Nevertheless,” Mrs. Wright declared, asserting her proprietorship. “I will have the inn searched top to bottom. Now, Mister Graham, while I thank you for your concern, I do think we should leave these ladies to their rest. Perhaps you might join me for a cup of tea while I send Johnson and Timothy to search the grounds. I always enjoy meeting Gabriel’s friends.”
“I would be delighted.” He bowed. “Goodnight ladies, and please forgive the intrusion.”
“Not at all,” Cara replied with icy politeness.
At the door, Josephine turned and gave the women a stern look before following him out.
Odette and Cara stood rooted to the floor as they listened to the retreating footsteps. When it was clear that neither Mrs. Wright nor Ethan Graham were within earshot, Cara turned, for once, truly furious with Odette.
“How could you?” she said in a fierce undertone. “How could you behave so recklessly? That man was brought here by your actions. Jumping on a moving coach! Honestly, Odette. Words fail me!” She walked over to the sofa and sat down heavily.
Odette followed her and sat in the chair opposite. “It’s worse than that.”
“What?” Cara blinked.
“He was in the coffeehouse, at the table with Gabriel and his friends. I barely noticed him, but when he spoke I recognized his voice.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure it. It could be a coincidence, him leaving the coffeehouse at the same time as I. Maybe he saw me jump the coach, but I didn’t do that until Long Acre. No. I have a weird feeling he followed me out.”
Cara groaned. “Why? Why would he follow you?”
“I was a little too close to one of Gabriel’s friends. Simon, I think. He moved unexpectedly and knocked my arm. Some of my coffee sloshed on Gabriel’s sleeve.” She smiled softly. “He was very kind about it.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Now you moon over him! What exactly did he do?”
“Nothing really, and I’m not mooning!” she protested. “For all he knew, I was just a scared country bumpkin and… well… he just didn’t make a big deal of it. That’s all. No one else seemed to notice.” Odette stood and paced the length of the room. “Why would Ethan Graham notice?”
She turned and looked at Cara. “He’s different from the other four. He is older… more sophisticated. He didn’t talk as much. Now that I think of it, he doesn’t really fit in with the group. And if he left directly after I did, he didn’t stay for the main attraction.” She sat down again, frustrated. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”
“Maybe its best we just get some sleep and wait until morning,” Cara suggested. “Mister Graham didn’t make his visit a secret so you can ask Gabriel about it. His mother is bound to.”
Chapter 14
The morning brought little clarity and no Gabriel. Odette had descended early to the common rooms with the intention of speaking to him before he left for London.
She had lain awake for hours rehearsing her method of interrogation. She wasn’t quite sure what approach to take. Maybe the “indignant about the intrusion” approach or the “scared about the intruder” approach or the “wasn’t it so exciting” approach. But none of those seemed right. She longed to use the “I was dressed up as a boy last night because I’m a time traveler from an alternate history and I’m trying to make everything right again” approach, but knew that was a non-starter.
As it turned out, no approach was necessary, because the only Wright she could find was Barbara. The inn was bustling, and Barbara hardly had time to nod and smile before heading up the back stairs with an armload of clean linen. Odette had learned that the end of the month was often busy, with old guests moving on and new ones arriving.
She saw the Delaney sisters sitting on a sofa chirping softly to each other. Their many pieces of luggage surrounded them. Miss Constance, the youngest at seventy, motioned to Odette.
“My dear, my dear, do sit down,” she piped in her soft, high-pitched voice. “We were rousted from our beds last night!” she exclaimed excitedly and flapped her hands around exactly like a little parakeet. “An intruder! Some man saw an intruder come in through one of the windows!”
“You aren’t leaving because of it?” asked Odette, concerned that the incident would reflect poorly on the inn.
Both ladies blinked at her wide-eyed and tilted their heads to one side. The sisters were fashionably dressed with gowns opened in front to show off the decorative petticoat underneath. They were both so old and frail that Odette often wondered how they supported the heavy dress and wide panniers that were the fashion.
“Oh no, my dear, certainly not,” twittered Miss Patience, the elder. “We’ve been coming here for years. The waters keep us in excellent health, and no one runs a more congenial establishment than Josephine Wright. Her husband, the dear man, was just a gem. Wasn’t he Connie?”
“Yes, a gem, just a gem,” Miss Constance agreed. “No. We are merely leaving at our appointed time. We have a grand-niece coming out this season and must attend her début.”
Odette smiled at the ladies and stood to leave. “I hope she is successful in her first season.”
“Oh undoubtedly, she is very pretty. She’s sure to be quite the rage,” enthused Miss Patience. Then added absently, “Which is why we thought it so very odd to see Mister Graham here last night.”
Odette stopped in her tracks. “Mister Graham? Is he a friend of yours?”
�
�Oh no, not ours. He’s an intimate of our niece’s husband, Archie.”
“Archie?”
“Sir Archibald Brandon, a member of His Majesty's Most Honorable Privy Council,” Miss Constance announced proudly.
“Really?” Odette said rather breathlessly. “And Mister Graham?”
“He works for Archie.”
“I don’t know if ‘work’ is the right word, Connie,” Miss Patience scolded. “He is a gentleman.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. They collaborate.”
“On what?” Odette pressed.
“Business of State, I should imagine.”
Odette felt her knees go weak and gripped hard the back of the chair she had just vacated. “Why is it so strange Mister Graham would be here?”
“Archie held a private dinner last night in honor of Lillian, our little grand-niece. Just a small affair, but Mister Graham is usually in attendance at all family functions. I can’t imagine what brought him to Hampstead.”
“He was the man who reported the intruder to Mrs. Wright, you know,” Odette informed them.
They sat up straighter and twittered in surprise. “We had no idea!” exclaimed Miss Patience. “But it is like him—so attentive.”
“Oh yes, very attentive. But not the most fashionable of gentlemen,” interjected Miss Constance. “Sometimes one hardly notices him.”
“Except us,” chirped Miss Patience, “we notice everyone.” The two sisters leaned toward each other laughing, their heads bobbing up and down.
Odette made a mental note on the acuity of old ladies and bid them goodbye. It was several moments before she regained her senses enough to find herself in the gardens. She sat down on a stone bench next to one of the topiary chess pieces. With every breath of the chill morning air, she felt her mind clear.
Ethan Graham, friend of a high level government official, had almost certainly followed her from the coffeehouse. The Privy Council consisted of the King’s most trusted advisors and, if she had her history right, often yielded a spymaster from among its ranks.
Could this be Sir Brandon? And, if so, was Ethan Graham one of his agents?
She stood and paced the gravel path.
But what was he doing in the coffeehouse among Gabriel’s friends? And why follow me?
“Such fierce concentration.”
She looked up and immediately wished she had taken more time with her toilette. Gabriel stood directly in front of her looking splendid in rough-spun work clothes. His blond hair was perfectly disheveled and his smile was both warm and cautious. She forced herself not to blush.
“Oh, Mister Wright, just the person I wanted to see.” She had hoped to sound businesslike but croaked a little and cleared her throat.
He stood silently regarding her. She needn’t have worried about her appearance. The simple morning gown of pale rose was a lovely compliment to her skin and dark hair. There were no hoops or large panniers so the silk fell in a natural silhouette. She had thrown a fine woolen shawl of dark green about her shoulders. To Gabriel she resembled an early spring flower. He almost sighed aloud and cleared his throat as well.
“I am, of course, at your service, Miss Swanpoole.”
Odette smiled and said, “Perhaps we are overly formal. Can I call you Gabriel?” She saw him stiffen and immediately regretted her friendly impulse. “Forgive me, I—”
“No,” he interrupted her awkwardly. Gabriel looked down at his feet and then up again at her. “It is not my intention to insult you.” He stopped and seemed to struggle with his words. “My mother was once in a very delicate position. And while marriage to my father and her own hard work has earned her respectability and some status, I think even she has forgotten how tenuous a woman’s reputation can be. I am sometimes overzealous in protecting it.”
Odette felt a certain depression steal over her. She knew intellectually that his fears were well founded but couldn’t help the lump of disappointment that rose in her throat.
Was this respectability for his mother’s sake or his own?
All thoughts of confiding in him were swept away. The hope of an advisor and ally, at least in Gabriel Wright, was dashed. How could she expect him to shoulder her problems, a woman he barely knew, as well as his own? But he had done so for Odell. She guessed that being crazy was more respectable than being a wanton woman.
“Of course, Mr. Wright,” she replied with admirable composure. “It is perfectly understandable, and one of the reasons I wished to speak with you. Miss Mills and I would like to move into London at the earliest possible date. I was thinking somewhere in the Covent Garden area. Perhaps somewhere convenient to Drury Lane.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. “You still insist on moving forward with this ridiculous plan?”
Odette pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and jutted her chin out in a belligerent attitude. “Mister Wright, I understand you mean no offense, yet you consistently give it. I, too, have a family to protect. And while you may doubt the veracity of my story, I have every intention of finding my brother and removing him from harm’s way. No matter the cost!”
“I just don’t understand why you won’t go to the authorities—”
“And have them think me as mad as my brother? No thank you, Mister Wright, I’d rather not need your services to keep me out of Bedlam.”
She turned from him and walked back toward the inn.
Two long strides brought Gabriel alongside her. He gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Odette, what would you have me believe?” His voice was full of frustration and confused feeling. “You come here out of nowhere—literally nowhere. No horse, no carriage… wearing next to nothing and carrying a bag full of gold and money. Your brother is missing and an unnamed villain is responsible. Whom you, by yourself, are setting out to trap. It certainly sounds like madness to me!”
“Well, Gabriel, you don’t know the half of it!” She could barely speak. Her throat was tight, and she clinched her fists to stop herself from crying. She breathed deeply to regain her composure and looked up at him. “Listen, I really don’t want to drag your family any further into this mess. But if you can’t believe me, at least open your eyes and your mind. You know about the man who reported an intruder last night?”
“Yes,” he replied briskly. “My mother told me of the incident. Ethan Graham is a friend of mine. It’s a strange coincidence. But Graham is a gentleman, and—”
“He is more than that,” she countered forcefully. “He is an intimate of Sir Archibald Brandon, member of His Majesty’s Privy Council.”
“So…” He stopped, suddenly pensive. “Sir Brandon, you say?”
“Yes. Do you know something?”
Gabriel shook his head vaguely. “Only rumors.” He looked at her. His eyes were calm and assessing. “How do you know this?”
“The Misses Delaney.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Old ladies…”
“…know everything. Sir Brandon is their dear niece’s husband. With his daughter coming out, they were rather shocked to see Ethan Graham here instead of at a special dinner last night in her honor.”
Gabriel’s hands were still resting on her shoulders. “He saw a lad jump on the luggage rack of a moving coach.”
Now she raised her eyebrows. “So he follows the coach to Hampstead? Somewhere he just happens to be going?” she said disbelievingly. “I know it’s unusual, but I’ve seen boys do the same.”
Where do you think I learned?
“And I don’t follow them all over the countryside,” she concluded aloud.
Gabriel looked intently down into her face and drew her closer. “You think Ethan had an ulterior motive for coming here?”
“I think it’s strange,” she equivocated.
“And the boy he saw climb into your window?”
He was too perceptive by half. It was obvious his mother had yet to tell him of her little dress-up act. But she had
to risk it. He had to be wary. It wasn’t just Benjamin Franklin now. It was all those good men she had seen last night, all of them working toward a new world. She wasn’t going to see them die in a history-altering purge.
“I don’t know what he saw. Maybe he’s lying. The questions you should be asking are who or what is Ethan Graham? And why should he concern himself with you?”
Cara found them thus, standing close, Gabriel’s hands on Odette’s shoulders. But for once, the intimacy of their pose was lost on her.
She glided up gracefully, waving in her hand a heavy sheet of writing paper and said excitedly, “Mister Garrick of the Theatre Royal will meet with you tomorrow!”
Chapter 15
Odette stared out the window of their hired coach and watched the barren fields gradually change into the straggled beginnings of a city. Small, distance clumps of buildings grew closer together. The small-town bustle of Hampstead was replaced by a constant stream of conveyances moving purposefully into the crowded streets of London.
Odette had always wanted to visit London. She smiled to herself. Well, here she was. It may be over two hundred years in the past, but it was London nonetheless.
“You lived here once didn’t you, Cara?” she asked.
“Aye, to be sure.” Now that there was no prohibition on just being Irish, Cara’s natural lilt reasserted itself more frequently. “I was just a lass of sixteen. I came to study design and dressmaking.” She contemplated her hands encased in soft kid gloves. “My aunt sponsored me. My mother was English, you see. I had to sign a pledge renouncing my Irish citizenship. But I was mad to study and make something of myself. And Ireland was so impoverished. That was long before the Gender Laws, of course. But the fact that I was Irish was bad enough. After school I wanted to get as far away from England as possible. So I signed on as apprentice to a fashion house in New York.”
She looked up at Odette and smiled sadly. “I left everything behind to build a new life, a business, and still oppression followed me. When they passed the Gender Laws, I wondered what it was all for. Why I had given up so much.”
Odette Speex: Time Traitors Book 1 Page 12