by Megan Daniel
A rare peace prevailed in the household in Laura Place. Trix was out riding with Melissa Durrant, Letty Crinshaw, and a score of others. Neil had surprised his
sisters by offering to accompany them. Willem was shut up in the schoolroom with the friendly new tutor whom Derek had suggested, struggling manfully with his equations. Mina was earnestly, if unmusically, practicing one of Mr. dementi’s sonatinas, agonizing over the tricky Italian fingering. Saskia had tried every ploy imaginable to get Mina to practice, to no avail. Then Derek idly suggested one day that a young lady who couldn’t play creditably was not to be bothered with. Now Mina practiced daily.
Mama was at work in her study; Jannie was at work in her kitchen. And Saskia was brooding.
She was no closer to winning this blasted contest than she had been the day she arrived in Bath. And that Dawes fellow this morning! Intolerable little mushroom! Treating her like an errant schoolgirl. She had been uncivil to him, but oh, how he had deserved it!
She sat curled up in an unladylike fashion in a big comfortable chair in the front parlor, pondering her next move. She had lost some of her eagerness for the contest, though she wasn’t sure why. Why could Aunt Hester not simply divide her fortune between them and be done with it? If Saskia lost, the van Houtens would be back with nothing. But if she won, her cousin would have nothing. The thought had inspired her at first. Now she found it an unpleasant, guilt-producing notion.
Ware broke in on her thoughts with a letter on a silver salver. Probably yet another invitation. Their numbers had increased almost to a torrent.
But it was not an invitation.
My dear Miss van Houteri,
Since our meeting this morning, I have had communication with the owner of Rowbridge Manor. Mr. Banks has confessed a willingness to listen to your proposition regarding the property. He will send a representative to discuss it with you. You will meet this representative at precisely three o’clock this afternoon in Sydney Gardens. Enter the labyrinth, take the
second turning to the left, and walk to the end of the
alley. Wait in the cul-de-sac. And come alone.
Your humble servant, Osgood T. Dawes, agent
Weill This was progress to be sure, if more than a little high-handed. She felt certain this odious little man would not have ordered her about in such a way had he been dealing with her cousin. But of course she would answer the summons, rudely put or not A meeting with Mr. Banks! Or with his representative, which came to the same thing. Dare she hope she had won? She ran up to change for the fateful meeting.
Derek Rowbridge threw the letter onto a table in disgust. The cheek of that Dawes fellow, ordering him about as if he were a schoolboy! And he a Rowbridge! He had half a mind to ignore this imperious summons altogether. But of course he would do no such thing. That would be the height of foolishness. This was his chance. Perhaps the contest would end this very day, with himself the victor.
He sobered at the thought. What would become of the van Houtens when their fling in Bath was over? He had grown fond of the twins. Neil was bright, a challenge to talk to. And Beatrix, it was a joy just to look at her.
Well, there was time and to spare to worry about them. He must speak to Banks’s man. He set out for Sydney Gardens.
Saskia glanced at her lapel watch as she approached the labyrinth. Quarter to three. Her eagerness and her unladylike stride had brought her here quickly. She scanned the faces of everyone nearby, chiefly small children and their nannies. An elderly woman in a shawl sat on a bench, eyes closed and face turned to the sun’s warmth. A giggly housemaid strolled by arm in arm
with her beau, a footman by the look of his rainbow- hued attire.
She paced back and forth, nervously killing time. Every so often a squeal of delight or a grumble of frustration drifted over the high hedges of the maze. “Here. I’m over here!”
“No, no. Left. Go to the left!” and “Another damned dead-end.” Saskia smiled.
Today could mean the beginning of a whole new future for the van Houtens. Neil would be off to Oxford, Willem to Eton. Mina would have a good governess. She wouldn’t like it, but she needed taming, and Saskia would find someone young, bright, and gay, someone Mina could like.
And for Beatrix! A season in London. Maybe even Al- mack’s! More gowns, all of the finest, to show her off. She would snare a baronet at the least. Maybe even an earl. How lovely she would look in a countess’s coronet and ermine.
Saskia turned and retraced her steps, pacing back toward the entrance to the maze. Her pretty daydreaming was rudely shattered as she saw a familiar figure approach.
“Cousin Saskia! What the deuce ... ?”
There stood Derek Rowbridge glaring at her, though why he should be glaring so grimly she couldn’t imagine. She felt a blush begin up her neck. What was happening to her? She never blushed! It must be guilt. Yes, she was feeling guilty because her cousin was about to lose the contest.
But how inconvenient. She glanced at her watch again. It lacked but five minutes of three. She must get rid of him.
It was clear she was not alone in her discomfiture. Derek was knocked off his stride at sight of her standing there so primly on this particular spot at this particular time. What the deuce was the girl about, and why couldn’t she have chosen the bowling green or the shrubbery for her afternoon commune with nature?
He made an effort to appear calm. The poor girl didn’t know, couldn’t even suspect, that she was about to lose the contest. The thought gave him pain. What would become of her, he wondered. Back to Eynshant, he supposed, probably to a marriage to that stick of a Kneighley, poor thing. She really deserved better. Perhaps when he was certain of his aunt’s fortune he would find some discreet way to help the van Houtens. They were family, after all.
“You’ve chosen a lovely day for your stroll in the gardens,” he commented pleasantly.
“Yes, lovely,” she answered, wondering how she could get rid of him. “You had the same thought yourself, it
seems.”
“Yes. Just out for a bit of air, you know. I find the gardens refreshing.”
“Oh, yes. Very refreshing.”
How long will she stand there, he wondered. Can I hint her away? “Did your sister accompany you today? I don’t see her about. Perhaps she has wandered off to see the tulips?”
Of course he would ask about Trix, she thought. He had been paying her a marked degree of attention lately. And Trix didn’t seem to mind a bit. “Oh, no. She is riding with friends today. I enjoy coming here quite by myself. It is peaceful, and I can think.” And please take the hint and go away, do!
He caught the hint, but he had no intention of going away. “I can understand the desire to wander about on one’s own, letting one’s thoughts meander at will. Pray do not think you must stay here chatting on my account, Cousin. You’ll like to see the waterfalls, no doubt.” Now take yourself off, girl. It’s three o’clock!
The sound of a church bell chiming the hour drifted over the lawns. A middle-aged gentleman approached the maze. Could that be the man? No, here came a little boy running. “Take me on your shoulders, Papa!” he cried. An elderly man in a big hat had taken a seat on a
nearby bench and seemed to be dozing in the sun. But the doze could be a sham. Suppose he, too, were waiting for a meeting in the maze?
So occupied were they both in searching about that neither was aware of the obvious agitation of the other. And neither did they notice a sedan chair stopped some little distance away. The curtains were drawn shut, but a pale old eye squinted through a slit, and a mischievous smile cracked the old face within.
Blast! Saskia told herself with an uncharacteristic lack of delicacy. Derek looked as though he’d taken root on the spot. Well, if she couldn’t get rid of him civilly, she must be uncivil. “I am so glad you understand my desire to be alone, Cousin, but as I was here first, I shall stay! And pray don’t feel you must bear me company!”
The little minx, he though
t. Now what do I do? Clearly to stay now was impossible. “Very well, Cousin. I leave you to your musings. Good day!” He walked briskly away, stopping as soon as he was out of sight around a comer. Then he peeked back. Surely she would go now that she had won her point. Stubborn, tedious girl!
No sooner had his broad back disappeared around the comer than Saskia plunged into the maze, her steps hurrying over the gravel. Second turning to the left, yes here it was. Now walk to the end of the alley. Yes, here was the cul-de-sac. Now wait. There was no one about, and she fervently hoped that Mr. Banks’s representative, not finding her here at precisely three, had not left. But no, no one had left the maze in the last quarter of an hour. Of that she was certain. She waited.
Nothing happened for the longest time, and her agitation grew almost unbearable. She fancied she could hear her heart beating louder and louder in her ears. But wait. Silly girl! It wasn’t her heart at all. It was footsteps, and they were approaching. The crunch of boots on gravel grew louder, the step firm and brisk. A man’s step, and he must be much younger than Saskia had ex-
pected. But the steps did not turn into her alley. They were passing by, walking along the other side of the hedge. Disappointment flooded her. But then the steps, so determined in their approach, stopped dead. The man could be no more than a yard away from her, directly opposite to where she stood, with only the high hedge between them.
She realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out on a sigh. The gravel crunched as the man turned toward the sound. There were two beats of silence, then Saskia heard a harsh whisper.
“I’ve been sent by Dawes.”
It was him! What a relief. She hadn’t missed him after all. But why was he whispering? “Yes, yes. I’ve been expecting you,” she whispered back.
Odd, he thought. It’s a woman. He hadn’t expected that and didn’t much like the idea of doing business with a woman. But he was in no position to argue the matter. “You’ve come to talk about Rowbridge Manor?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she answered. ‘To discuss the sale of it.”
“You understand it is not for myself I speak. I am merely hoping to expedite matters for the parties involved.”
“That is my position as well, sir. Of course I do not know what terms would be acceptable. But I do know that my party is most anxious to complete the arrangements.” And so am I, she added to herself.
“Indeed? Well then, there should be no difficulty in bringing matters to a happy conclusion.” Very happy indeed, he thought.
“It is quite a beautiful house. Do you not think so?” She felt ridiculous whispering such inanities to an unseen gentleman through a hedge, but she would play the game out anyway he chose.
“Very beautiful.” Now what is her game, he wondered. Trying to drive up the price, no doubt. Well, he didn’t care a fig what it cost his aunt, and apparently neither did she. “It is easy to understand anyone’s desire to purchase it.”
“Oh, yes!” Was she sounding too eager? She had never been much of a bargainer. Well, it wasn’t her money. Not yet, anyway. “Do you not think, sir, that we might better conclude the matter face to face? I am beginning to feel quite foolish.”
“Of course.” He felt a fool himself. Very odd business, this. “If you will walk along this alleyway, I shall do the same.”
The gravel crunched again, loudly on his side, more lightly on hers. The alleys seemed much longer than they had only a few moments before. But finally a figure emerged from each and ...
“Cousin!” cried Saskia, leaning heavily into the thorns of the hedge.
“What the devil ...” exclaimed Derek, as thoroughly taken aback as she. Two mouths hung agape. Two faces grew dark with the pure thunder of indignation. They both regained the power of speech at the same moment.
“If this is your idea of a joke ...,” began Derek.
“I really had thought better of you ...” began Saskia.
“Did you send me tJiat note?” they both demanded in one voice.
Silence fell, a silence during which each glared at the other. Then, slowly, the truth began to sink in. This was the most ridiculous situation! Saskia’s eyes were the first to be touched by a sign of amusement. The little yellow flecks in her eyes began to dance. One comer of Derek’s mouth began to twitch with laughter. A giggle escaped Saskia. Derek let out a guffaw. Before long they were holding their sides, shaking with full-bodied laughter till the tears streamed from their eyes.
“Oh! Oh, dear!” Saskia finally managed to gasp. “How very foolish we must look!”
“Well,” Derek managed to say between giggles, “we
did manage to “bring matters to a happy conclusion.”* And he was off again.
“Oh, don’t, Derek, please!” Saskia cried. “I can’t laugh anymore. Please don’t make me!” With that she sat on the ground—Derek had already given in to gravity—and roared some more.
It was several minutes before they were sufficiently in control to consider just who had brought them to this.
“That odious Mr. Dawes,” said Saskia. “It must have been his idea. He sent the notes.”
“I shouldn’t have thought the fellow had enough brains to think up such a stunt. But you can be sure that he will have some fancy explaining to do to me.”
“To us, Cousin Derek. Don’t you dare go see him without me!”
“Come then.” He rose and brushed off his buckskins, reached out for her hand, and pulled her lightly to her feet. “We’ll see him at once.” They headed toward the exit.
Unfortunately, during their fit of laughter they had managed to get themselves completely turned about and had lost all sense of direction. They were soon deep in the maze with no idea whatever of which way was out.
“Another damned dead-end,” muttered Derek.
“No, no. It’s left. Go to the left!” said Saskia.
They were hopelessly lost, and Saskia half expected a minotaur to appear at any moment and gobble them up. It would seem a fitting end to this very unusual day.
“All right. Now let’s just think this through calmly,” said Derek. “There is obviously a very simple, direct way out.”
“Wait! I’ve remembered something. I read once that if one always keeps one’s left hand on the hedge, following wherever it goes, one must eventually come out at the other end. Shall we try?”
And so they made their way out, with only a little more grumbling, a few chuckles, and some thorn pricks. When they emerged at last, they were laughing, they
were arm in arm, and they were more in charity with each other than they had ever been.
They did not see the sedan chair nearby move off shortly after their emergence. Inside was a very satisfied old man, chuckling to himself.
Chapter Fourteen
It had been a very long time since Saskia van Houten had had the leisure to look forward to, shop for, and linger over her toilette for a ball. There had been one small assembly in Whitney last season to which she had taken Beatrix, but it was scarce worth the name. Saskia had spent most of the evening trying to keep the Squire’s son away from her sister, the rest of the time propped on the sidelines with the chaperones, tapping a foot or a fan in time to the whiny music poured out by the sadly inadequate little orchestra.
But tonight was an entirely different matter. This was a Bath Assembly, and Saskia was attending as a Young Lady and not as a chaperone. Aunt Hester was to accompany them, thus assuring them of a warm reception, and Saskia had given in to her excitement.
She felt she deserved it. She had planned to have a quiet day in preparation for the evening, but it seemed that nothing much turned out as she planned it lately. In fact, today had been trying in the extreme. She only hoped she wouldn’t collapse with fatigue in the middle of the cotillion. She had traipsed all over town the whole of the day, and her feet hurt.
Her visit with Derek to see the odious Mr. Dawes the previous afternoon had not been noticeably productive—the agent was not incli
ned to be helpful—but they had gleaned one vital piece of information. Mr. Banks was in Bath. That was the positive side of things. The negative was that Mr. Banks knew all about them, their search for him, and their aunt’s desire to buy Rowbridge Manor. And apparently he wasn’t interested, or why pull such a silly stunt on them as that farce in the labyrinth? They each and separately decided to find him and convince him to change his mind before the other could do so.
Consequently, Saskia had visited virtually every hotel and lodging house in Bath this day—and there was a ridiculously large number of them, she learned—in search of the old man. She had sent Neil to the Guildhall to peruse the list of rate-payers in the city, hoping to turn up his name. There were fourteen homeowners by the name of Banks in Bath, and she saw them all. None of them bore the slightest resemblance to her man. All the questions asked along the way lead her nowhere.
And Saskia knew that she had not been alone in her enquiries. At several stops she had been preceded only moments before by Derek Rowbridge. She had little doubt that at others he followed her just as closely. It was a miracle they hadn’t bumped smack into each other.
But they would meet this evening. He might even dance with her. She wasn’t at all certain how she felt at the prospect. But suddenly she didn’t feel quite as tired as she had.
She picked up the fine Norwich silk shawl, of gossamer green shot with gold, that her Aunt Hester had positively insisted she have, and which she was certain had cost every penny of fifty guineas. It was but the finishing touch to an elegant, softly draped gown of water- green crape cut on classical lines that left bare a rather large expanse of white bosom. It was quite the most daring gown Saskia had ever imagined, much less worn, and she suffered a twinge of doubt at the wisdom of giv-