Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  “What?” Donna looked in the direction Bess was staring and groaned out loud. “Nothing for it now—they have seen us.”

  “Yes, but what are they doing on the earl’s lands? Presumptuous, don’t you think?”

  “Hmmm, I do,” Donna said on a frown.

  Riding at a sedate pace towards them was Bernard Holland in all his finery. He looked as though he should be at a music recital and not in the saddle. Beside him was a female rider they recognized at once as Mary Russell.

  “He wants to be your beau,” Donna teased on a low note.

  “Wretch, how can you tease me about such a thing when you know he positively makes me ill?” Bess pulled a face.

  “He could marry you and live in comfort with a beautiful wife. You can almost see that thought written across his forehead,” Donna pursued on a bark of a laugh.

  “Odious child.” Bess arched a threatening look at her friend.

  However, an opportunity did not present itself for further banter on the subject, as Mary Russell and her cousin were upon them, with Mrs. Russell exclaiming, “Oh, my dears, we were just on our way to visit with you at Searington.”

  “Good morning, ladies,” said Mr. Holland, touching the tip of his fanciful blue velvet hat.

  Bess thought he looked more like a court jester than a man of fashion. “Ah, then how fortunate we have met here,” Bess said, meaning these words fervently. If she had been forced to endure Holland at Searington for heaven only knew how long it would have been intolerable. At least they could now ride off and leave them at their backs.

  “Well, I see that Dunkirk is not with you, and it was he I wished to speak with … it is a matter most urgent,” Mrs. Russell said worriedly.

  Bess regarded her with some concern. “Oh, I am sorry. The earl went off with”—Bess inclined her head towards Donna—“Lady Mabry’s husband and some friends … he is not at home.” She saw the woman’s distress and frowned. “Is there something we can help you with, Mrs. Russell?”

  “Other than to relay a message to the earl for me, I am certain there is nothing you can do,” Mrs. Russell said as she turned to her cousin. “Isn’t that right, Bernard?”

  “Precisely so, cousin,” Mr. Holland said quietly.

  “Our uncle, the squire, has asked us to tell as many people as we can, as perhaps someone has seen something that can help.”

  “I am not certain this is a wise course, but we must do as he asks,” Bernard Holland said with a sour face. “I really think all this will do is create fodder for the gossipmongers.”

  “Gossip?” Bess said. “Please, Mrs. Russell, you have naught to fear in that regard by asking either Lady Mabry or myself for assistance.”

  “Oh, I know, such good girls …” She turned to Holland and said, “Shall I tell them then?”

  “Indeed, cousin, you might as well, though I don’t know what more than gossip will be accomplished,” he answered, and Bess thought he looked more than a little irritated.

  “Well,” Mrs. Russell returned, looking sternly at him, “these girls will not gossip, and perhaps in the end we may find some help.” She turned to Bess and then Donna, gave them a considering look, and then wailed, “My uncle’s little ward has vanished!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “YOUR UNCLE’S WARD?” Bess asked, feeling puzzled and a bit shocked. “I don’t think I understand.”

  “No, of course not,” Holland almost snapped as he adjusted his intricate and heavily embroidered yellow cravat. “How could you?” He turned impatiently to his cousin. “Really, Mary, need we be so melodramatic?”

  She ignored him and proceeded as though he had not spoken. “My uncle’s ward, Thomas, is only ten years old. His circumstances are, well, unusual.”

  “Our uncle found him with his peasant mother, who had applied to our uncle for help. She was expiring in a hovel, and the boy was only seven or eight at the time,” Bernard added with a heavy sigh.

  “So sad,” Mrs. Russell said. “You see, well, it is so very delicate, but apparently they had been … friends, this woman and my uncle. He had no idea that her circumstances had deteriorated, or that … she had a child.” She drew in a long breath of air, sighed, and then continued, “At any rate, my uncle has grown very fond of Thomas—”

  “I am certain they don’t need all these details,” Bernard Holland actually did snap this time, and quite harshly.

  Mrs. Russell put up her chin. “The thing is, I think perhaps he is being held by villains for ransom.”

  “I must add to this that Thomas is a wayward boy, more than a little wild. You see, he knows that he is my uncle’s … well … there is no other way to put this, but he is my uncle’s bastard son, and though the rumor is that Uncle changed his will, he still has not publicly acknowledged or adopted the boy.” Holland shrugged. “I have witnessed the little demon’s behavior, and it is my considered opinion that he has run off.”

  “Absurd man,” scoffed Mrs. Russell. “He has a governess, and she said they were at the fair. One minute he was enjoying petting the baby goats, and the next minute he was gone.” She sighed heavily. “There can be no doubt that it was an abduction for ransom. Our uncle has been waiting for the ransom request, but none yet has arrived.”

  “Precisely so, which leads me to believe that my conjecture that the boy has run off is the correct one. He will return when he finds himself cold and hungry,” Holland said with a sneer. “Mary, you like to think the best of everyone.”

  Bess thought about this with great misgiving and said quietly, “I agree with Mrs. Russell. I think the child has been abducted.”

  “Mary, please, do call me Mary,” Mrs. Russell interjected.

  “What I don’t understand,” stuck in Donna, “is the timing in all of this. Have you only just discovered he is missing? You gave no hint of this last evening.”

  “Indeed, apparently my uncle wished to keep the news to himself until this morning, when he sent word of his problem. You see, the boy was supposed to be coming to Mary’s for a spring visit. He had no choice but to advise her of Tom’s disappearance.”

  Bess took it all in, especially Bernard’s attitude. He didn’t seem concerned. Even if the boy had taken a pet and run off, one would still be concerned. After all, he was just ten years old. She hesitated and then said, “Mary I don’t wish to worry you further. I do feel, though, whether the boy ran off on his own or not, he is a babe all alone. We must do something—notify the authorities, something.”

  “This is absurd,” Bernard uttered with exasperation. “What can we do? Send the beadles after the child? Think of the scandal. The next thing they will say is that my uncle was abusing the boy. Outrageous.”

  “No, but we can make a concerted effort to look for him. We enlist friends and fan out and make discreet inquiries. One doesn’t know how much people see and dismiss until they are asked,” Bess said gravely. And then a thought occurred to her. “May I ask, Mary, was your uncle actually going to adopt this boy? Would that have made the boy his heir?”

  “That seems a far-fetched implication and very direct from a young lady,” Bernard said in a low voice. He looked angry, very angry.

  Bess made light of it. “My besetting sin—I am always too direct.” She met his narrowed eyes with a look that was cool.

  Mary shook her head and waved this off. “As to that, I am not sure. No one really knows what my uncle meant to do in regard to the boy. You see, my uncle’s estate is not entailed. He can leave it where he chooses.”

  “Is there no one he favored over the years that may have found themselves suddenly cut out by this boy if your uncle changed his will? For I tell you frankly, the idea of his being abducted for ransom, in view of the fact that no letter for said ransom has been submitted, seems odd,” Bess said, her mind racing over her conversation last night with Fleet. Someone wanted the young boy out of the way. Was Fleet right? Would Holland inherit if this child wasn’t around to? And she knew. In her heart she knew that th
e boy she saw in the Gypsy wagon could be this missing boy. She had to maintain her quiet façade. She couldn’t let on that she knew anything. Holland was not to be trusted!

  “As to that, he always liked his one remaining sister, Augusta, but she is older and well off.” Mary shook her head. “No, I just don’t know.” At this point, Mary dug into the deep pocket of her riding skirt and pulled out a miniature to hand to Bess, saying, “This is a very good likeness of Thomas. I had it done when they visited at Christmas.”

  Bess held the miniature up, and when she looked at the face of the boy, she nearly choked. She controlled herself and managed to swallow the words that came to her mouth. It wasn’t the time. She had to think about this. She knew just where she had seen that face before. She looked up and found Bernard staring at her.

  Bess hurriedly said, “I am shocked. He looks no more than a babe. Thank you. I will keep my eyes and ears open and advise the earl of this awful circumstance as soon as he returns.” She handed the miniature to Donna, who clucked her tongue and murmured words of concern.

  Donna returned the miniature to Mary and said, “I am certain you must have things to do. We won’t keep you, and as Bess said, we will advise the earl, who is very knowing and might be able to help.”

  Mary thanked them profusely and turned her horse about, taking a path that would lead to the open road. Her cousin tipped his hat and silently followed.

  Donna and Bess watched them for a time before Donna rounded on her friend and shrieked, “Don’t fib to me, Bess. Something is towards. I saw it on your face the moment you looked at that boy’s picture!”

  “Donna, that was the face of the little boy in the Gypsy wagon that I saw, that first time, after Stonehenge. Remember, when we stopped at the Red Lion? Donna, I never before believed in fate, but it was more than a simple coincidence that I was there that day and saw his little frightened face, and then I saw that same wagon at the carnival. Donna, it must have been Thomas that I saw that first time in the Gypsy wagon. He is being held by that awful Gypsy man and the old Gypsy woman. I am certain of it. Donna, ’tis fate that I saw him. It can only mean one thing.”

  “Oh, no, what one thing?”

  “We must go and find him,” Bess said with conviction.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “FAITH! OH, FAITH, you are certain the boy in the Gypsy wagon was the same as the face in the miniature, aren’t you? Yes, I know you—of course you are. What are we going to do? Why would a Gypsy abduct the child?”

  Bess bit her lip as she often did when distressed and nibbled there a moment before she looked Donna in the eye and said on a sigh, “I don’t know. Why would a Gypsy abduct a boy? It doesn’t make sense. A Gypsy’s life on the road is hard, and many of them usually do what they can for remuneration. Therefore, we must conclude and assume there was money in it, and if so, we are back to two theories. Ransom or …” She hesitated.

  “Or what?”

  “Someone doesn’t wish the squire to leave his fortune to his illegitimate son. Someone who expected to inherit and needs to inherit must want the boy out of the way,” Bess said portentously.

  Donna sucked in a long drag of air. “Oh, no, that is quite a leap, but, Bess, it wouldn’t be the first time foul play was used for financial gain.”

  “My thought exactly. It has to be Holland. I don’t know who else stands in such a position. One must assume that it can’t be Mary Russell, as she seems to be making an attempt to find the boy, and she doesn’t appear to be in poor financial straits.”

  “Yes, but Bess, Landau has a sister, and I believe she has a son. We can’t put the blame squarely on Holland’s shoulders yet, can we?”

  “Yes, we can. He is the only one that was anywhere near the Gypsy—right?” Bess answered thoughtfully. “However, that doesn’t matter right now. What we have to do first is rescue the boy at once.”

  “We? What do you mean we?” Donna yelped.

  “There is no time to lose, so it is left to us,” Bess said, regarding her friend with one brow up. “Donna, since when have you been faint-hearted?”

  “Bess, you wretch, I am not, but we should wait for the men,” Donna put forth reasonably.

  “Indeed, and so we shall. I meant only that we must track the wagon I saw from its last place, the carnival. Then you will ride home and fetch Robby and Dunkirk, and then we can rescue the boy before they finish the job. For, Donna, I do believe they are supposed to finish the job, and that can only mean one thing.” She lowered her voice and with fear edging her tone said, “They are in the end, I have no doubt, meant to do away with the poor boy. Scoundrels. I think they are supposed to murder the child and can’t imagine why they haven’t.” She shook her head. “Donna, time is of the essence. We must find where the boy is and rescue him.”

  “Bess, this is seriously dangerous. You must promise me that we shall track the caravan—only track it—and then fetch help,” Donna said and clucked with concern. “Promise!”

  “Done. Now, off to the carnival grounds. We shall start from there.”

  Donna sighed and followed.

  * * *

  They had traveled for nearly an hour at a reasonable pace, as they did not want to overstrain their horses, when Donna pulled up her animal and put up her hand to say, “Bess, I have been thinking that no one even knows where we have gone off to. I don’t think going off half-cocked like this is very brilliant, do you?”

  “We will be in no danger whatsoever, as I don’t mean to confront anyone. As soon as we find the Gypsy wagon in question, you will go back, get the men and a fresh horse for yourself, and return with them while I will keep watch.”

  “No, you will return with me,” Donna said with a wag of her finger. “If I have to drag you off, you will return with me.”

  Bess laughed and calmed her friend by saying, “Right then, let us first find the dashed thing.”

  “The thing is, I know you. We shall find this blasted God-awful Gypsy and his wagon. I know it. That farmer pointed us in the right direction, and I feel it in my bones that we are getting close.” She nodded and said, “There—I can see the circle of Gypsy wagons in that unplowed field down the road …”

  Bess frowned and said, “I don’t like it. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “First bright thing you have said since we started out on this absurd venture.”

  “No, I mean … look, that camp can be seen from the road. They have permission to camp there no doubt and have no concern.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning our Gypsy has concerns. He wouldn’t want to be near his camp, would he, if he means to conclude his business with the boy?” Bess indicated the woods that bordered the road with an inclination of her head. “Come on—we need to get nearer without being seen.”

  They took a shortcut through the woods and slowed their steeds so they could get a better look at the Gypsy camp.

  A camp fire had already been lit, and men were milling about preparing the fire so the women could cook for their lunch. Jesting and back slapping indicated that they had no present concerns.

  Donna said, “I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

  “La, but just hush, Donna! You are still screaming, and although we are at a distance, someone might hear you and come to investigate.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I am not sure. Perhaps we can just ride up to them and dismount. After all, it is broad daylight still, and we could just profess a curiosity or say we are interested in buying some leathers or—”

  “Or? Listen to me, Lady Elizabeth. There is no or!” snapped Donna. “We are going to turn around, and ride back, and get the men.”

  “Not yet.” Bess shook her head. “Here is the thing, Donna. I don’t see the Gypsy wagon in question. I thought I would just maybe idly ask about it.”

  “You will do nothing of the sort!”

  “Yes, but—” Bess started.

  “No. If your Gypsy wagon isn’t here, that is that
. We shall get the men and then hunt it down. Mine is the better plan.”

  “No, Donna. I don’t see his wagon in that circle of caravans. Each one has a unique design, no doubt signifying their status. His was very different, and it isn’t there,” Bess said as she scanned the circle of vehicles.

  “If your Gypsy wagon isn’t here, that is that. We shall get the men and then hunt it down—that is the smart thing to do.”

  “Perhaps, but it might then be too late,” Bess whined. “Think about it. If our Gypsy has gone off by himself, he must be planning to do something to the boy soon and doesn’t want witnesses.”

  “Yes, but how do we know where he has gone off to? He could be anywhere,” Donna complained. “Time to get back, Bess. I am certain that Robby and the earl will be at Searington by now and looking for us. I don’t like to worry Robby.”

  “Robby will think we went into town to do some shopping. He won’t worry yet.” And then she heard something on the road, and not the main road flanking the woods but one that cut through the woods. It was an old, little-used dirt road.

  Carriage wheels. She heard the sound of carriage wheels lumbering over a badly rutted road.

  Bess silently thanked the heavens for the thick brush hiding their presence in the woods as she watched a brightly painted wagon, with its unique and familiar design and the two same cob horses she had seen before, lumber heavily down the country dirt road.

  She and Donna exchanged glances before Bess said, “As I said, he obviously doesn’t want to make camp with his friends.”

  “Oh no, oh no,” Donna started to moan.

  “I am telling you, Donna, he is going to do something horrible to that boy soon.” It was in that moment that Bess made up her mind. “I am going to follow him, and you are going to fetch the men. Go now, Donna, go now.”

  “But how will I know where you will be?” Donna was shrieking again.

  “He will camp soon, somewhere as deep into these woods as that old dirt road will take him. Follow it—that is where I will be, keeping watch.”