Mayhem in Bath

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Mayhem in Bath Page 25

by Sandra Heath


  “Leave Bath? Why on earth should I do that?” Polly answered.

  “We both know why, my dear,” Georgiana murmured.

  Polly was all wide-eyed innocence. “Oh, I suppose you’re referring to Sir Dominic. Please do not concern yourself about me, for I wish you every joy and happiness.”

  Georgiana was taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t be so surprised. Lady Georgiana, for I mean it. I only feel sorry for the poor marquess, who clearly worships the ground upon which you tread. His hopes must have been cruelly dashed. Actually, I’m truly glad we’ve had a chance to speak like this, because I wish to be your friend. After all, I now have every expectation of soon becoming your sister-in-law. Your dear brother has been most patient and understanding with me, and tonight I intend to make amends for my past stupidity.”

  A mask settled over Georgiana’s face. “I’m sure Benjamin will be more than willing to meet you halfway. Miss Peach,” she murmured, glancing across the bonfire and perceiving Dominic’s gaze upon them. He’d been there for several minutes now, watching very closely. Something was going on, but what? As she looked, Dominic’s hem flicked a little oddly, as if a child had tugged it. He glanced down, seemed to listen for a moment, and then hurried away. Georgiana watched him disappear in the general direction of the equestrian entrance, and then she gave Polly a brief smile. “If you will forgive me, I’ve seen someone I wish to speak to,” she said, and slipped away to follow him.

  Bodkin paused only to pick up a small glowing stick from the fire, and hurried after her. His tail was twirling almost to a blur, and he decided it was time for his bees to go to work. Pursing his lips, he gave the warbling whistle that would summon his friends from the beech tree. He was so attuned to them that he immediately heard the first stirrings of their battle buzz. He whistled again, and the buzz intensified to something that was almost a roar, then they swooped down to him in a long column. He pointed at Georgiana. “There is your target. Teach her a lesson!” he cried, and the column set off after her. Bodkin watched with delight, his tail revolving at such a rate that once again his rear end was almost lifted from the ground. “Chase her, boys! Chase her!” he yelled.

  The bees were now loud enough for everyone to hear, and people began to glance around in puzzlement. Bees? At night? Then they saw the flying phalanx, and there were screams of alarm. Georgiana heard the angry buzzing and turned to look back. Her eyes widened with horror as she saw what was coming toward her. Realizing she was their target, she gave a screech like a scalded cat and ran for the royal pavilion, which offered the only likely shelter within easy reach. Etiquette and protocol were completely forgotten as she stumbled breathlessly into the royal presence and tried to hide behind Harry Dashingham. He had that very day been promoted to aide-de-camp to the duke, and was togged in his finest regimentals, but Georgiana seized his arm, spilling his glass of champagne all down his front. As he smothered a rather ungentlemanly curse, the bees swept into the tent. He staggered backward in alarm, knocking into several nearby gentlemen, who tumbled into others like dominoes. There was pandemonium as the bees zoomed around the tent, trying to catch Georgiana as she dashed from useless hiding place to useless hiding place. The duchess gave a squeal and collapsed in the duke’s arms, and courtiers scurried in every direction as the swarm twisted and turned on their quarry’s trail.

  Georgiana was now quite hysterical. How could she escape? Water! That would save her. Seeing a large fountain about fifty yards away across a bowling green, she gathered her skirts and fled out of the tent, elbowing the duke aside so violently that he and the duchess tumbled ignominiously onto a sofa. Georgiana ran like a hare, with the bees only inches behind her, then she flung herself into the pool where the fountain splashed from a stone pedestal. She scrambled and splashed to get behind the silver curtain of falling water, then pressed herself against the pedestal. Thwarted, the bees buzzed angrily overhead, watching and waiting for the moment she dared to emerge. But Georgiana had no intention of emerging. If necessary she would stay there all night!

  By now, the bees had caused consternation throughout the gardens. Several ladies swooned with shock, not the least of these being the unfortunate Duchess of York, who on coming around gave way to a fit of the vapors second to none. The duke was scarcely less shaken, for he wasn’t accustomed to being shoved roughly aside. It didn’t become his dignity! He sent a courtier to summon his carriage, and within minutes the royal cavalcade had quit the gardens at a canter that threatened to overturn each vehicle as it swept hectically into Great Pulteney Street.

  Meanwhile, Bodkin had run back to his precious jack-o’-lantern. He found Dominic, Ragwort, and Caraway waiting for him, and made himself visible for Dominic’s sake. Dominic was about to hurry back to keep a watchful eye on Polly, but Bodkin prevented him. “Let Caraway go—she’ll be faster than you. Go on. Caraway. Miss Polly’s by the bonfire.” As Caraway dutifully hurried away again, Bodkin looked at Dominic. “Have you been told about the change of plan?”

  “Yes. I wish I’d been told by the bonfire, so I could have removed Polly from all risk of Beddem,” Dominic replied a little crossly, for he’d given Polly his solemn word that she would be safe at all times. There had been no need for him to come here, but Caraway had said it was very urgent indeed.

  Bodkin pressed his lips together and nodded. “We didn’t think,” he confessed. “Anyway, Caraway will bring her now. What do you think of the new plan?”

  “It’s good—I approve.”

  “All the Royal Crescent brownies are ready to help, and with so many we’ll easily overcome Lord Benjamin and strip him if necessary. But before we get to that, I intend to pursue him with my jack-o’-lantern.” Bodkin held the lighted stick to the candles in the pumpkin, and then stamped on the stick until it no longer smoked. As the candle flames grew stronger, and the terrible face shone in the darkness, the brownie rubbed his hands with anticipation. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy all this,” he declared.

  But then Caraway ran breathlessly back. “Lord Benjamin has Miss Polly!” she cried.

  Guilt and alarm seared through Dominic, and he tore off his robe and turban. “Which way have they gone?” he cried.

  “Up the hill toward the canal!”

  As Dominic ran to the rescue, Bodkin turned to Ragwort and Caraway. “Alert the other brownies, then go after Sir Dominic.

  Miss Polly must be saved!” They nodded and hastened away. Bodkin then turned to his jack-o’-lantern. “Your moment has come, my laddo,” he said, making himself invisible once more. Then he heaved the pole onto his shoulder, and stepped from the bushes.

  Still hysterical after the bees, a lady was being comforted by her gentleman on a bench beneath a leafy arbor about twenty yards away. She saw the giant jack-o’-lantern emerged into view, apparently moving magically on its own, and gave such a broadside of uncontrollable screams that her unfortunate companion didn’t know what to do. The lady’s hysteria attracted attention, others turned, saw the jack-o’-lantern, and scattered in the utmost panic as Halloween no longer seemed quite the time of fun it was meant to be. Bodkin paid them no heed as he set off after Dominic. Ragwort and Caraway had begun to collect the other brownies, who came from all directions to hurry behind Bodkin and the jack-o’-lantern. The only signs of their presence were the little indentations of their feet in the grass and their low, determined voices, which many took to be more bees.

  The candles in the pumpkin flared and guttered, and the huge jack-o’-lantern could be seen quite clearly as it bobbed up through the gardens. The result was more mayhem than ever; indeed the elite of Bath was reduced to utter chaos. One half thought it was a trick that was too clever by far, the rest that it was a supernatural visitation. There were more screams, more vapors, as the remnants of Halloween frivolity collapsed. Fashionable witches, wizards, goblins, and devils dove for cover beneath handy bushes, or scuttled for sanctuary in the temple and sham castle; morris men scattered, bells jing
ling; and the hobbyhorse picked up its skirts to gallop after them.

  Bodkin remembered his bees and whistled to them. As they abandoned the fountain to obey his commands, Georgiana put her head tentatively through the curtain of water. The first thing she saw was the giant jack-o’-lantern, and with a most unbecoming wail, she drew hastily back out of sight again.

  Chapter 40

  The cause of all this pandemonium—Polly’s abduction by Lord Benjamin—had taken place only minutes earlier. Georgiana had just left her, and she’d had been scanning the crowds around the bonfire for Dominic, when Lord Benjamin suddenly blocked her view. “Good evening. Miss Peach,” he murmured in as civil and agreeable a tone as could be imagined.

  Her heart tightened in dismay. “Lord Benjamin!”

  “I trust your letter still holds good, and you wish to warm the atmosphere between us?”

  She stared at him, her courage suddenly almost deserting her now that the moment had arrived. Her eyes flew for reassurance to where Dominic had been a moment before, but he’d gone! She glanced back to Lord Benjamin, and incongruously she thought how ridiculous he looked, squeezed so tightly into his costume that his face would have been red and sweating even without the bonfire’s assistance. He had no coat!

  “Miss Peach?” he prompted, giving her a sleek smile.

  “Forgive me, Lord Benjamin, I... I’ve been anticipating this moment so much that now it’s here, I’m all at sixes and sevens.” Did she sound convincing? Oh, how she prayed so! What was she going to do now? Because of his costume, their plan had fallen at the first fence.

  He smiled. “I fear we have been unnecessarily at odds in the past, but all should be well from now on. It would please me immeasurably if you and I were to be true friends. Miss Peach, er, Polly ...”

  “It would please me too. Lord Benjamin. I... I mean Benjamin.”

  At that moment Bodkin’s whistle rang out as he set the bees on Georgiana, and Polly turned, distracted, but Lord Benjamin took her hand. “It’s disagreeably warm here. Shall we walk where it’s cooler?”

  And darker, she thought with alarm, and quickly endeavored to divert him. “Oh, look, something’s happening,” she said as the first onlookers spotted Bodkin’s bees.

  He wasn’t to be put off. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he murmured, drawing her hand firmly over his sleeve.

  Polly was in too much of a quandary to think of any reasonable way to resist. Nutmeg’s fate remained uppermost in her thoughts, but everything felt as if it were going horribly wrong. Where was Dominic? He must be somewhere nearby, because he’d promised, and so had Bodkin and Ragwort. Yes, they were all keeping watch. She overcame her alarm and accompanied Lord Benjamin away from the bonfire, toward the canal, which lay hidden in its cut at the top of the garden. Suddenly she remembered Hordwell. “Where is my uncle?” she asked “I haven’t seen him tonight, and—”

  “I fear he felt indisposed, and decided not to come after all,” Lord Benjamin interrupted smoothly.

  An icy finger of renewed disquiet passed down Polly’s spine. Something was definitely wrong! Tonight of all nights, her uncle would have sent a message if he was unable to come. Her steps faltered, but Lord Benjamin walked calmly on, and his hand rested so strongly over hers that she had to go with him. Should she scream? But even as she thought of it, a cacophony of shrieks broke out behind, caused by the appearance of Bodkin’s jack-o’-lantern, although Polly could not know that. To add her screams to such a racket would be futile. What was happening? Where was Dominic?

  Lord Benjamin didn’t care what was happening behind them; he was concerned only with getting Polly to the canal, and thence to the carriage waiting at Bathampton. Georgiana must be succeeding in diverting Fortune, he thought, quickening his steps just a little. He spoke cordially to Polly, as if the atmosphere between them was lighthearted and carefree, although he knew it wasn’t. “I think you and I could do very well together, Polly. Granted we’ve known only friction until now, but deep inside I think we are very well suited. Don’t you agree?” His gaze was fixed ahead, where the canal bridges, decorated with small green jack-o’-lanterns, had now appeared through the darkness.

  “I... I cannot really say,” she replied, frantically glancing behind again.

  “Cannot say?” He affected to be a little offended.

  She stumbled over a suitable reply. “Well, one cannot know such a thing until one is married.”

  He kept walking. “I find your frankness most refreshing,” he murmured, steering her to the westernmost of the bridges. The pleasure boat he had secured was waiting beneath it at the foot of stone steps that were set against the retaining wall. In a few short minutes now, dear Miss Peach—and her fortune—would be on their way to Gretna Green.

  As they reached the top of the steps, Polly’s increasing fear at last spilled over, and suddenly she pulled away from him. “I... I want to go back,” she said.

  The time for false smiles was over. He seized her arm and propelled her down the steps to the narrow towpath. She screamed and struggled, and he cursed as he clamped a hand over her mouth. Her spangled witch’s hat fell as she tried to beat him off with her fists, but he was far too strong. In a blur she saw how the jack-o’-lanterns on the bridges cast a baleful green light over the waiting pleasure boat, with its single lantern at the stem. The muslin draped over its canopy resembled a shroud, and the black wooden witch silhouetted at the prow seemed about to take come to life as the boat rocked gently at its mooring.

  Lord Benjamin hauled his prize across the towpath, then into the boat, which swayed alarmingly as Polly fought every inch like a wild cat. He forced her beneath the canopy, where a handkerchief and a coil of rope lay on the seat. After forcing the former into her mouth to silence her. Lord Benjamin made short work of binding her hand and foot so she could only lie helplessly in the bottom of the boat. Then he stepped out from the canopy again, carefully pulled the muslin over so she couldn’t be seen, and undid the mooring rope. Seizing one of the oars, he shoved it against the bank.

  At that moment Dominic appeared at the top of the steps. “Stop, Beddem, or so help me I’ll kill you!” he cried, producing a pistol from inside his coat.

  Lord Benjamin’s lips parted in dismay as he feared the game was up, but then he reasoned that Dominic wouldn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Polly, so he didn’t even acknowledge the challenge as he began to row strongly in the direction of Bathampton. The canal passed out of the gardens in only a few yards, and he would get away! Dominic scrambled down the bank and began to take off his boots as quickly as he could, the better to swim, but help was already at hand in the form of Bodkin and his magic jack-o’-lantern.

  The brownie ran breathlessly onto the bridge, untied the pumpkin, and threw it at the departing pleasure boat. As always, his aim was perfect, and the jack-o’-lantern hit Lord Benjamin on the head, before rolling overboard into the water, where by good fortune it landed upright. Still intact, with its candles miraculously alight, it bobbed up and down, its leering face seeming eminently well pleased as Lord Benjamin slumped senseless over the oars. Wavelets rippled across the canal, obligingly carrying the drifting pleasure boat toward Dominic, who was soon able to pull it to the bank. He immediately stepped aboard to gather Polly in his arms and take her to safety. Laying her gently on the towpath, where Bodkin’s brownie friends crowded around, he removed the handkerchief from her mouth, then untied her.

  “Forgive me, my darling,” he whispered as she sat up. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d—”

  She caught his hands, kissed them both, and smiled up at him. “I know you wouldn’t have willingly left me, and you’ve saved me now, so nothing else matters. I love you, Dominic,” she whispered.

  “As I love you,” he breathed, sinking his fingers into the warmth of her hair and pulling her lips up to meet his.

  The watching brownies, sentimental souls one and all, gave unanimous sighs, for if there was one thing brownies adored, it was
romance.

  Lord Benjamin began to groan as he came around, and Dominic quickly took the rope and jumped lightly back onto the boat to bind Polly’s vile abductor. Bodkin ran from the bridge to jump in the boat with his pole, which he stretched out to guide the pumpkin toward him. Then he lifted it out of the water and carried it triumphantly ashore to the cheers of his friends. Above their cheers there was the buzzing of the bees as they waited to see what Bodkin required of them.

  Ragwort mustered the brownies. “Bring Lord Benjamin ashore,” he ordered, and as one they scrambled into the boat. On the count of three, they managed to haul Lord Benjamin onto the towpath, where they pinned him down by sitting and standing on his outstretched arms and legs. He was terrified, for although he couldn’t see his assailants, he knew they were brownies, and that they would show no mercy to someone who’d planned such a terrible fate for one of their number.

  Then Bodkin stood over him, a foot on his chest, and made himself visible. “Where’s Nutmeg’s belt?” he demanded.

  Lord Benjamin stared up at him, for this was the first time he’d actually seen a brownie. Lord Benjamin’s tongue passed dryly over his lower lip, and he swallowed, too frightened to speak.

  Bodkin jumped up and down on him. “Where’s her belt?” he cried furiously, his tail beginning to lash. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll set my bees on you!” The mood of the other brownies turned to anger as well, and some of them urged him to let the bees do their worst regardless. The swarm buzzed threateningly and descended a little closer, so Lord Benjamin could see them against the starlit sky.

  Dominic had drawn Polly gently to her feet, then turned as Caraway tugged his coat, and held up Polly’s witch’s hat, which she’d rescued intact from the foot of the steps. He thanked the brownie and smiled at Polly as he placed the glittering hat tenderly on her head. Then he glanced down at Lord Benjamin. “You’d be wise to divulge the belt’s whereabouts, Beddem.”

 

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