by M C Beaton
“Her brother,” whispered Lord Reckford. “Her brother.”
“Now what is there about Lucinda Braintree’s brother to put you in such a pucker? A wastral and a rake, I grant you. And talking of rakes,” she began severely. But she spoke to the empty air. The crashing of the outside door marked where his lordship had taken hurried leave.
Ann put down her cup of chocolate and ran to the window. Her brother’s broad back could be seen disappearing at a rapid rate down the Parade.
She sat down again with a sigh. Ever since her little brother had met Miss Sandford… well, she hardly knew him.
Jeremy Holmes was nursing a sore head and a large glass of hock and seltzer when his butler announced Lord Reckford. The Beau hurtled into the room and grabbed Jeremy by the lapels of his magnificent dressing gown.
The brother, Jeremy. Henry Sandford!”
Jeremy slowly and gently disengaged Lord Reckford’s powerful fingers. “Look,” he said patiently, “I don’t like Henry Sandford myself. But is that any reason to come burstin’ in…”
“No, listen and I’ll tell you.” Recovering his usual composure, Lord Reckford bent his head close to his friend’s and began to talk rapidly and urgently.
At that moment, Miss Sandford had given up all pretense of enjoying her companion’s company. She had laughed and chatted gaily until they were well past Lord Reckford’s residence. Then all the sparkle seemed to go out of her day and she paused for a moment by the rail of the Parade and decided suddenly to leave Brighton. Henry had written to say that he would be joining her for a few days and, although he had been all that was amiable to her for some time, she felt she could not endure him under the same roof again.
Her plan of ignoring the infuriating Lord Reckford was not working out. The only way to get over her unfortunate passion was to keep the cause of it firmly out of sight. She turned her head and addressed Miss Scattersworth. “Mattie, we shall leave in the morning.”
Her escort, a Captain Frederick Waverley, tugged his magnificent moustaches in surprise, “Oh, I say, Miss Sandford. Brighton won’t be the same. ’Pon rep. Prettiest gel ’bout to leave town. Gawd, what, eh!”
Miss Mattie let out a wail. “But, Henrietta, perhaps Mr. Sandford will bring Mr. Symes with him.”
“I doubt it, Mattie. He will want his curate to run the parish in his absence.”
Miss Scattersworth sighed dismally and touched her hair under her cap. “Perhaps it is just as well.”
“But, the ball tonight. Promised the waltz, Miss Sandford,” said the Captain. “Must have the pleasure. Last dance and all, gawd, what, eh!”
Henrietta smiled and nodded and privately thought of another gentleman who she hoped to dance with for the last time. Just once more, she would twirl under the lights of the ballroom in Lord Reckford’s arms. And then, she would never see him again. She choked back a sob and, taking her escort’s arm, moved off along the Parade.
As soon as she politely and possibly could, she took her leave of the Captain, assuring him fervently that yes, she would waltz with him—so fervently that he walked away jauntily and happily, convinced he had made another conquest.
At the end of the Parade, two elegant gentleman were propped against the rail, watching his progress. Captain Waverley recognized Lord Reckford and Mr. Jeremy Holmes and puffed out his chest. It was common knowledge that the famous Beau had been dangling after Miss Sandford and now he, Captain Waverley, had succeeded in attaching the affections of the beautiful heiress.
To his surprise, Lord Reckford stepped forward and made him an elegant bow. “Your servant, Captain,” said the Beau. “We have not been introduced but I have heard it said that you are a good opponent in a game of chance and I wondered whether you would like to try your skill against mine.”
The Captain hesitated. It was indeed flattering to be singled out by the famous Lord Reckford but there was a tightness about his lordship’s mouth and a glint in his eye which gave the Captain an uneasy feeling of danger. He opened his mouth to refuse but the Beau went on smoothly, “I had it from your Colonel-in-Chief, Lord Hadrington, that your skill at piquet is beyond compare.”
The Captain beamed. Now here was a different matter. He was anxious for promotion and he did not want his Colonel-in-Chief to hear that he had disobliged a friend.
“Well, well, lead on my lord. Delighted to play you. Anywhere you wish.”
“My house is hard by,” said Lord Reckford, moving to one side of the Captain while Jeremy Holmes flanked the other. Again the Captain had an uneasy feeling of danger and hesitated but Lord Reckford’s hand on his arm was most insistent. The Captain shook his head as though to dispel his fears. After all, what could happen to him? Lord Reckford was a friend of Miss Sandford and then there was the matter of the Colonel-in-Chief.
Once inside, all his fears were dispelled. He was introduced to Lady Ann Courtney and her husband, Sir Geoffrey. Admittedly the couple looked startled to hear that Lord Reckford meant to play cards at such an early hour but Sir Geoffrey merely suggested that they use the study on the first floor where they would be sure of being undisturbed.
The Captain surveyed the luxurious appointments of the house with an appreciative eye. Wait till he told the fellows in the mess!
As he was studying his cards, Mr. Holmes placed a glass of madeira at his elbow and urged him to try it. The Captain waved his hand. “Never drink this early in the day. Wait until the sun’s over the yard arm as the navy chaps say, eh, what!”
There was a slight pause and then Lord Reckford’s husky voice said, “Ah, but I wish you would give me your opinion. I sent a case of it to Lord Hadrington.”
The Captain eyed his glass. A stray sunbeam winked hypnotically on the crystal. He could hear himself saying to Lord Hadrington, “Played a rubber with that fellow Reckford t’other day. Damned fine madeira, what,” and how the fellows would stare to hear him discussing the famous Beau in such easy terms.
The Captain squared his shoulders and brought the glass stiffly up to his mouth as if about to salute and took a large swallow. The madeira certainly had a warm and mellowing effect.
“I would like to stake a wager,” said Lord Reckford.
“Of course, of course,” said the Captain cautiously. “Not too high, mind!”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of money,” said the Beau smoothly. “Not from you, that is. I will wager five hundred guineas. What I want from you is a dance—your dance—with Miss Sandford.”
The Captain looked at him in surprise and then a slow, satisfied smile spread over his features. “Surely you can ask her yourself.”
The Beau shook his head. “I am unlucky, you see. Miss Sandford’s dance card is always full even before the ball begins. Come, come Captain. Five hundred guineas is a fair wager.”
The Captain opened his mouth to refuse and then closed it tight. The picture of himself casually discussing Lord Reckford’s madeira danced tantalisingly through his mind. And, By George, he could use five hundred guineas in any case.
“Your hand on if, sir,” he cried. “Let the game commence.”
Half an hour later, the defeated Captain moodily left the house. Why, the man was a master at cards. With his skill, Beau Reckford could earn a fortune playing for gold instead of a dance.
Upstairs Jeremy Holmes laughed at his friend. “Miss Sandford should be flattered. You’ll feel silly if her dance card is half empty!”
“Oh, but I am sure it will not be,” said the Beau. “Miss Sandford has made a point of having her card completely full almost before the ball begins.”
Jeremy looked suddenly worried. “You know, what you are about to do to Miss Sandford is downright criminal.”
“I know,” drawled his companion. “But it certainly takes the boredom out of life.”
***
Henrietta paused at the doorway of the ballroom and surveyed the scene. She was wearing a white satin slip of a dress with a black lace overdress with long tight sleeves. Diamonds
blazed at her throat and wrists and her heavy blonde hair was piled high on her head in a confusion of artfully arranged curls. Behind her stood Miss Scattersworth in a severe burgundy gown and with a matching turban covering her offending greenish hair. It was one of the few times of late that Miss Mattie had dressed in keeping with her years and, as a result, looked considerably younger.
The couples swirled and dipped before Henrietta’s sad eyes. Their gaiety seemed to remove them a world away. She breathed in the now familiar Brighton ballroom air of wax candles, scent, pomade, sweat, fish and poor drainage and moved forward across the floor.
She gave a nervous start and dropped her fan as Lord Reckford seemed to materialize in front of her. In the hope of a last dance with him, she had made sure that her dance card was half empty. He took it from her and gave a cynical laugh. “What has happened this evening? I was sure that the gallant Captain would have claimed you for every dance.”
“Only the waltz,” said Henrietta, as he bent to retrieve her fan.
“Then I must disappoint you. The Captain begged me to inform you that he is… ah… somewhat under the weather. I shall stand in for him, of course.” He began to write busily in her card.
Henrietta gasped. “My lord, you have engaged me for so many dances. More than two would cause a scandal.”
“We shall sit most of them out,” he remarked with arrogant indifference. “But first of all, I have something of a serious nature to say to you, Henrietta. After the next waltz, please step outside with me. We must have privacy. Do not look so frightened. We shall take Miss Scattersworth with us.”
The strains of the waltz started up and he drew her into his arms, holding her much closer than the proprieties allowed. Henrietta shut out the past and the future and concentrated only on the feel of his arms around her. They danced in silence while the gossips turned to stare. Out of the corner of her vision, Henrietta could see the pouting and painted face of Edmund Ralston and then, after another turn of the waltz, the high-nosed stare of Lady Belding and the set white face of her daughter, Alice. Another turn, and Jeremy Holmes was at their side. Lord Reckford stopped and dropped his arms to his side and the sounds and sights of the everyday world flooded into Henrietta’s ears. “It’s time,” said Mr. Holmes simply.
“Come, Henrietta!” Lord Reckford’s hand was on her arm, but this time his grip was like a vice.
“Miss Mattie,” she cried, looking round the crowded room. A few curious stares were already being directed at their party.
“Miss Scattersworth is already waiting for you,” said Jeremy Holmes. She allowed herself to be drawn unresistingly from the ballroom.
She stopped in the courtyard outside and looked round. “But where is Miss Scattersworth?”
“She is waiting in that coach over there,” said Mr. Holmes in a soothing voice. “Lord Reckford wishes to talk to you in private but as you can see you will not be unchaperoned.”
Henrietta was too bewildered to question why the coachman was seated on the box and why the coach was flanked by two outriders if his lordship wished to be private with her. But she climbed into the coach… and then tried to draw back.
The light from a passing link boy’s lantern shone briefly into the darkness of the coach.
Miss Mattie Scattersworth was propped up in the corner bound and gagged, her eyes dilated with fright. Henrietta received an unceremonious shove in the back and fell forward into the straw at the bottom of the carriage. Lord Reckford jumped in after her and then thrust his head out of the window. “Spring ’em!” he shouted. The coach bounded forward and Henrietta slowly dragged herself up onto the seat. “You may un-gag your friend,” said his lordship in a quiet voice.
He was seated opposite Henrietta. The passing lamps showed his aquiline face set in hard lines. He held a long duelling pistol in his hand and it was pointed straight at Henrietta.
She put a trembling hand up to her mouth. “It was you. It was you all along…”
He did not reply. He turned his head and gazed indifferently out at the lights of the fast disappearing town.
But the long fingers which held the pistol did not waver by so much as an inch.
Chapter Twelve
Feeling sick and shaky, Henrietta turned to loosen Miss Scattersworth’s gag. The spinster immediately opened her mouth to scream but shut it again as his lordship said in a voice like ice, “One word from you Miss Scattersworth and I shall blow Miss Sandford’s pretty little head from her shoulders.”
Miss Mattie shrieked in alarm and turned wide-eyed to Henrietta. Henrietta motioned her to be silent and turned, grim-faced, to her captor. “What are you going to do with us, my lord?”
“You are to be my guests for some time and provided you do not try to escape, we shall contrive to be comfortable.”
Miss Mattie gasped, “He is trying to force you to marry him.”
“Believe me, madame, marriage is the subject farthest from my mind at this moment,” said Lord Reckford.
The spinster clutched Henrietta’s arm. “Then he means to ravish you. He will keep you locked in a tower with only rats and bats for company and when he is tired of you, he will ship you to the West Indies as a slave.”
Henrietta fought down an insane desire to laugh. But Miss Mattie’s nonsense had a bracing effect. Her heart may be in pieces, but at least she knew her enemy.
“And where are you taking us, my lord?” said Henrietta in a deceptively calm voice.
“To my home,” he rejoined laconically. “To the Abbey. I am sorry it is not a hideous tower, Miss Scattersworth, but we do have dungeons.”
Henrietta folded her lips, determined to watch for a chance of escape. The hours passed as the strange trio, resplendent in evening dress, rocked and lurched with the motion of the coach, each with their troubled thoughts.
Miss Scattersworth had settled into a kind of heavy despair. She would never see Mr. Symes again and it must be some divine punishment for all her racketing around. Henrietta felt numb with misery. This was where all her wild romantic dreams had brought her. She now heartily wished that Mrs. Tankerton had bequeathed her fortune to Edmund Ralston. She would still be at the vicarage, humiliated and bullied, but safe and with her heart in one piece.
They made several stops at posting houses along the road. The two women were allowed to alight and snatch hurried meals, conscious all the time of Lord Reckford’s pistol which he had concealed beneath his cloak, Mr. Holmes who was riding beside the coach was similarly armed and his cherubic countenance looked grim and stern.
Henrietta tried to feign sleep as the night wore on but the hand holding the pistol never wavered. A pale grey dawn finally lit their weary faces and still the coach sped on, lurching and bumping along strange country roads, never slackening speed.
Just as she was thinking she would never sleep again, Henrietta’s eyelids drooped. When she opened them again, the sun was high in the sky, the heat inside the coach was nigh unbearable. The horses were slowing and she looked hopefully out of the window. But it was only another posting house.
“We will stop here for refreshments,” said the now hateful voice of Lord Reckford. “Remember, not by one sign or one glance will you indicate to anyone at this inn that aught is amiss. I will shoot you down on the spot Out!”
Neither Miss Scattersworth nor Henrietta had any appetite for the excellent meal that was put in front of them. Then they had to endure the humiliation of being escorted to the privy at the foot of the garden under the armed escort of Mr. Holmes who assured the landlord with a sweet smile that since both ladies were liable to fainting fits, he had better be on hand.
Henrietta was about to ten Mr. Holmes that she would never forgive him for as long as she lived and then realized gloomily that that showed every sign of being a very short span of time indeed.
Henrietta had been long enough in fashionable society to learn that, despite all the appearances of public law and order, the powerful aristocratic families were still able
to do pretty much as they pleased on the privacy of their estates.
The long journey began again and night was beginning to fall as the coach lumbered up to the drive of the Abbey.
Both women were hustled into the great hallway, up the stairs and along a bewildering series of passages. Trying to keep her wits about her, Henrietta judged that they must be heading somewhere towards the east wing. At last Lord Reckford stopped outside a door and pushed it open. Both were thrust inside and then they heard the key turn in the lock.
Henrietta clutched Miss Scattersworth and then looked about her. They were obviously in what had once been a nursery. There were two bedrooms adjoining it and a small dressingroom. The key turned in the lock and two footmen came in. One stood guard at the door while the other laid a tempting tray of food on a small table and then lit the fire in the hearth. Both bowed solemnly and withdrew.
“I am going to eat,” said Miss Scattersworth. “I absolutely refuse to be frightened,” But her voice quavered piteously and she suddenly looked very old and frail. Henrietta began to feel very, very angry indeed. What kind of monster was this man who could make an elderly lady suffer so?
“We shall escape, Mattie,” she said firmly. “We shall eat well, sleep well… and we shall get away. Of that, I am determined.”
“But the windows are barred,” said Miss Scattersworth, “and the door is locked.”
“We will find a way,” said Henrietta, sitting down. To her surprise, she found she was very hungry indeed.
The door opened again and this time it was Lord Reckford, looking huge and menacing in the low-ceilinged room. Following him came the two footmen bearing an enormous trunk.
“These are your clothes,” he said abruptly. “I am sorry that you have to be confined like this but it is for your own good. Do not be frightened,” he added in a gentle voice. “It was necessary to terrify you on the road here in case you thought to escape.”