by Candace Camp
12
While Julia was eating an excellent meal in her room at Stonehaven and going to bed at an unfashionably early hour, her sister-in-law was pacing the floors of their home in London. That afternoon Nunnelly had rushed into the house with the news that he had lost Julia.
“Lost her!” Phoebe had asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my lady, that she is nowhere to be found. I’ve been ridin’ all over the estate and onto Farrow land, as well. I’ve had the grooms out lookin’. It’s crazy they’re thinkin’ me because no one knew she had come home.” He set his jaw. “It’s a judgment on me—I shouldn’t have agreed to her crazy scheme.”
“Oh, dear.” Phoebe sank down into her chair. “But what about…?”
“His lordship? It’s that that’s got me right worried. He’s clean gone.”
“Oh, dear.” Phoebe repeated, her face turning ashen.
Nunnelly nodded. “When I couldn’t find her, I went straight to the hut. There wasn’t a soul there. The door was standing wide-open, and inside I found a few scraps of rope and the chimney of the oil lamp, broken on the floor.” He was wise enough not to mention the traces of blood he had seen on one of the shards of glass.
Phoebe’s fears had been only partially calmed a few minutes later when a footman brought her a note from Julia, which he said had been delivered by a messenger to their door. Phoebe read it through twice, frowning, then conferred with Nunnelly, who understood as little as she.
“Why is she with Stonehaven?” Phoebe wailed. “What happened? I know she must be in some sort of trouble.”
Nunnelly nodded lugubriously. “There’s somethin’ not right here, my lady. Why would his lordship be wantin’ to marry Miss Julie? After she’d tied him up and all. It don’t make sense.”
“Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this mad scheme!” Phoebe wailed. “I can’t think why Julia would have agreed to go with him. He must have forced her.”
“Well, she says here she’s looking for important information.”
“Perhaps he forced her to write this note—to allay our fears, keep us from going to her aid. Or perhaps she’s trying to trick him, pretending that she will marry him so that she can get inside the house and then look for evidence against him. If he figures out what she’s doing, she could be in terrible danger.”
“Maybe I ought to go up to this Stonehaven place and see what’s afoot.”
“You wouldn’t get anywhere. Lord Stonehaven would close his gates against you. If anyone goes to ask questions…” Phoebe squared her shoulders “…it had better be I.”
A look of amazement passed over the coachman’s face, but he said only, “Yes, my lady.”
After Nunnelly left, Phoebe paced the room in an agitated way for a few minutes, then sat down and jotted off a hasty note, entrusting it to one of the footmen. She resumed her anxious pacing, and every noise in the street sent her flying to the window to peer out. With each passing minute she grew more worried about Julia, and when at last she heard the sound of the front door knocker, it was all she could do not to run out into the hall to drag her guest inside.
As it was, when the footman announced the Honorable Geoffrey Pemberton, Phoebe jumped up from her chair and hurried forward, reaching out to take his hands. “Geoffrey! Thank heavens you came!”
“Dear girl! Whatever is wrong?” Geoffrey asked, his usually imperturbable face creasing a little with worry. “Your note sounded, well, almost desperate.”
“It was! I am! Geoffrey, it’s Julia.”
“Of course it is.” He led Phoebe over to the sofa. “Here, sit down and calm yourself. You know Julia never gets injured, she just gets everyone else in a pucker. The most tiring girl I ever met.”
“But, Geoffrey, this is much worse than—oh, than anything she’s ever done. She’s gone to Buckinghamshire!”
“Has she?” Geoffrey looked faintly amazed. “Well, I daresay I wouldn’t want to go there, but I don’t suppose it’s as bad as all that.”
“No, no, you don’t understand. That is where Lord Stonehaven lives.”
“Stonehaven! Is she still on about that? I thought she had given that up.”
“No. In fact, well, she abducted him.”
Geoffrey’s eyebrows flew up. “Well! Fancy that. And she’s taking him home to Buckinghamshire?”
“No, no. Oh, I’m telling this all wrong. She took him to Greenwood, to a shepherd’s hut there. She was going to make him tell her the truth.” Phoebe let out a moan and sank her head in her hands. “Why did I let her do that? I must have been mad.”
“Now, now.” Geoffrey awkwardly patted her back. “One doesn’t ‘let’ Julia do things. She simply does them. I am sure you could not have stopped her.”
“But I did nothing!” Phoebe wailed and began to cry.
“Oh, dear. Now, don’t do that.” Geoffrey’s usual sangfroid deserted him at the sight of Phoebe’s tears. “Here. A spot of brandy. I’m sure that will fix you right up.”
He hurriedly pulled the bell cord on the wall and, when a footman appeared, ordered brandy, adding, with a harried glance toward Phoebe, “In a hurry.”
The footman brought the brandy without delay, and Geoffrey persuaded Phoebe to drink a sip. She gasped as the fiery liquid burned down her throat and blinked. “My goodness.”
“There. You’ll feel more the thing now. Brandy’s the best medicine.” In demonstration of this opinion, he proceeded to drink the rest of the snifter. “Now,” he said, thinking that at least he felt more the thing, “if she has taken him off to Greenwood, what’s all this about Buckinghamshire?”
“He escaped! At least, we assume that is what happened. Nunnelly came here this afternoon and told me that the shepherd’s hut was empty, and neither Stonehaven nor Julia was anywhere to be found.”
“Nunnelly?” Geoffrey asked, a little lost.
“The coachman. He helped Julia kidnap Lord Stonehaven.”
“Odd sort of servants you have.”
“He’s terribly loyal to Julia. And to Selby.”
“But if he didn’t know what had happened to them, why do you think she’s run off to Buckinghamshire?”
“I got a note from her. I was so confused. It came by messenger and was sent from here in London—yet I knew she was at Greenwood. And it is so odd. She assured me that she was safe. Then she said she was going to Buckinghamshire, and that Stonehaven wanted to marry her!”
“Marry her!” Geoffrey repeated. “Are you sure? You can’t have got that right.”
“I know. It sounds preposterous, but that is what she said—and right after that she said that she would not marry him. Here, see for yourself.”
She handed him the note, much creased. “She wants me to send her a trunk of her clothes—to Stonehaven!” She turned the note over. “Look at what she wrote on the back—she wants her teak box. Now, isn’t that peculiar?”
“Dash it! I should say so. What does a teak box have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. It seems very odd. She keeps mementos in it—a pressed corsage, some dance cards, mostly letters.”
“Why would she be eager to have a few old keep-sakes?” Geoffrey asked, perplexed, and Phoebe shrugged.
“The only thing I could think was that she was trying to send me some sort of message.”
“Message?” Geoffrey looked blank. “Why didn’t she just say so, then?”
“I thought maybe Lord Stonehaven was looking over her shoulder, so she could not be free in what she said. Perhaps she wanted me to know something, do something—only I am too stupid to figure it out!”
“No, no. Not a bit of it. I say, don’t cry again.”
Despite her perturbation, Phoebe had to smile at his horrified expression. “No. I shan’t. But, Geoffrey, what do you think she was trying to tell me?”
Geoffrey looked back down at the note in his hand. After a moment he said, “Do you suppose she’d been hit on the head?”
“Geoffr
ey!” Phoebe cried.
“Well, it just doesn’t make sense. If I had been kidnapped by some female and got loose, do you think I would turn around and ask her to marry me? And if I did ask her and she said no, would I drag her off to Buckinghamshire? I ask you.”
“I know. But why would she write me such nonsense? He must have seized her and forced her to write it.”
“Forced her to tell you she don’t want to marry him? Or that she needs clothes and a box of letters? The truth is, Phoebe, she sounds to me as if she’s foxed.”
“Foxed! Are you saying she had been drinking?”
“It’s the only explanation I can think of,” Geoffrey admitted. “You didn’t like the idea of her getting knocked in the head.”
“But why would she be drinking? Julia’s never drunk more than a glass of sherry in her life!”
“I daresay you’re right,” he conceded.
They were silent for a moment. “Perhaps it’s all a hum,” Geoffrey suggested after a moment.
“Julia would never play a joke like that on me,” Phoebe protested.
At that moment the footman knocked on the door and entered the room again. “The Honorable Varian St. Leger, my lady.”
“Oh, dear.”
“That Fitzmaurice ain’t with him, is he?” Geoffrey asked suspiciously.
“No, sir. Merely Mr. St. Leger.”
Phoebe cast a harried look at Geoffrey. The last thing she wanted at this moment was a social caller, but she could not escape the nagging hope that perhaps Varian would tell them something that would shine some light on their problem. “Yes, send him in.”
A moment later Varian entered the room. “Ah, Phoebe, you are a picture, as always. And Pemberton. I say, you seem to be a fixture here.”
“Well, family, you see,” Geoffrey said by way of explanation.
“Of course.”
“How are you, Varian?” Phoebe asked, putting on a smile. “Please, sit down.”
“I am fine. But I heard some news this evening that I could hardly credit. I felt I had to ask you.”
“Oh?” Phoebe’s stomach clenched.
“Yes. I saw Fitz at my club just a few minutes ago. I was rather surprised. He had gone, you see, to escort Thomas and Pamela to Farrow, and I hadn’t expected him back for a day or two. But he says Pamela was in such a snit that he decided to ride right back to town. You know how she can be. What had gotten her all discombobulated was hearing about Julia and Stonehaven.”
“Oh?” Phoebe asked through stiff lips. “What about them?”
“They ran into the two of them at the inn in Whitley. Stonehaven told them they were married.”
“Married,” Geoffrey repeated blankly. “Already?”
“Then you knew about it?” Varian asked, surprised. “Were they planning to wed? I had never heard anything of it.”
“No, we knew nothing, not until today,” Phoebe said carefully, feeling as if she were navigating treacherous social waters. She did not want to create further scandal by denying that Julia and Stonehaven were married when he had already told people that they were. On the other hand, she did not want to pretend that they were married when Julia might return and say it was all untrue. “I received a note from Julia. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
“Odd business, that. I would have sworn the two of them hardly knew each other,” Varian mused. “Of course, Julia did say that she was trying to investigate Selby’s—well, the embezzlement. Perhaps they were thrown together a lot.”
“Perhaps.”
“Still, hardly seems the sort of thing Dev would do. He’s not usually impulsive. Very good fellow, of course—true blue, couldn’t ask for a better friend in a fight—but not usually one to do anything rash.”
“I am sure that we will hear the full story soon,” Phoebe told him, smiling.
He stayed for a few more minutes, chatting, but neither Phoebe nor Geoffrey was terribly talkative, and before long he took his leave of them. As soon as the door had closed behind him, Phoebe whirled to look at Geoffrey.
“What do you make of that?”
“Very much what I make of the rest of it, which is nothing sensible. Julia says Stonehaven wants to get married, but she won’t marry him. Stonehaven says they are already married—to Pamela St. Leger and Fitzmaurice, than whom there is no one more likely to spread word of it. Fitzmaurice is too big a chucklehead not to talk about it, and Mrs. St. Leger loves nothing more than gossip.” He paused, then added judiciously, “No, that’s not true. She loves herself more than anything else, but gossip runs a close second.”
“Do you know Pamela well?” Julia asked.
“Me? No.” He shook his head. “Pretty enough, but she’s the sort that expects every man to dangle after her all the time. Tiring sort of thing to do, I think. ’Sides, she don’t like Armigers, you know. Always going on and on about Selby—even now. Well, a fellow can’t sit around and listen to someone denigrate his family, now can he? I mean, I’m not an Armiger, of course, but Selby was my cousin.”
“I know.” Phoebe smiled at him. “I think that’s very good of you, Geoffrey.”
Geoffrey looked a trifle embarrassed. “Now, now.” He cleared his throat. “About Julia…”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Sometimes I am so scatterbrained. We must decide what to do about Julia.”
“I don’t know that there is anything we can do.”
“I’ve been thinking and thinking about it, for hours. I can’t help but think that Julia must be sending out a plea for my help.”
“Oh. Sending her the trunk, you mean? And that silly box?”
“No. I shall do that, of course. But I think what she wants is for me to go to her.”
“Eh? Now, dash it, I didn’t see anything in that note about that!”
“I think it was a hidden message. She and I once read a book where the heroine sent a letter to her fiancé—under duress, of course—saying that she had decided not to marry him. But she made reference in the letter to a certain statue of Ares, where she and he used to meet. Only he knew, you see, that they had never met at any statue, and he guessed from her using Ares that she was in need of a champion, his being the god of war and all.”
“Did he?” Geoffrey looked much struck by this idea. “I would never have figured that out from her talking about one of those plaguey Greek fellows. Never cared much for Greek studies, you see. They always seemed a dashed bunch of loose screws—always running about becoming swans or bulls or such, and turning girls into trees.”
Even in the midst of her turmoil, Phoebe could not help but giggle. “No. You are perfectly right. But the thing is, I think Julia was trying to send me that sort of message.”
“You think she’s in need of a champion?” he asked doubtfully.
“I don’t know. In need of help. I mean, there isn’t any special meaning about that box that I can think of, except for its being so odd. I think she was hoping that I would realize that something was wrong. And indeed I do! I think something must be terribly wrong, and the only thing I can think of to do is to go to her. I will travel to Stonehaven. They can scarcely turn me away. After all, it would look quite odd not to let a future bride have the comfort and support of her relatives. Don’t you think?”
“Yes. If they did turn you away, it would be obvious that they were holding Julia against her will. Do you think they are? I must say, it doesn’t seem like something Stonehaven would do. Sounds more like one of those Greek chaps.”
“I’m not sure. But I do think that she needs me. So I must go to her.”
“But you can’t go running up there by yourself,” Geoffrey protested.
Phoebe turned limpid blue eyes upon him, and it was then that Geoffrey saw that he had been neatly caught. “Oh. Yes, I see. You’re asking me to escort you.”
“Would you, Geoffrey?” Phoebe leaned closer, clasping her hands together eagerly. “It would be so good of you. I know I really have no right to call on y
ou, but I could think of no one else. All my family is in Northumberland, except for my brother Robert, but even he lives too far away. I would have to write him, and then he would have to come here and, knowing Robert, he would have to think about it, and well, it would take days. I need to go tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” Geoffrey exclaimed. “No, now, really, Phoebe, you can’t have thought. You can’t get packed and leave by tomorrow morning.”
“I can try. Maybe we can’t be ready to leave in the morning, but surely by noon we could be gone. Buckinghamshire isn’t far away. We could arrive by evening, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. Never been there.” Geoffrey was notorious for rarely leaving London. It was said that it took a death in the family to make him travel—and even then, that it had better be a close relative.
“I have been there a few times with Selby, and it was only a day’s travel, and that was traveling from Greenwood.”
“Mmm. I daresay you’re right. Still, I’m not sure that from now until noon tomorrow is enough time to prepare oneself for the journey.”
“Certainly,” Phoebe responded stoutly. “Your valet will pack all your things, won’t he?”
“Of course.” Geoffrey looked astounded that anyone could think otherwise. “Still, there are other things that need to be done. Must toddle to the bank to get some money, I should think. Can’t go somewhere without a bit of ready, you know.”
“Oh, Geoffrey!” Phoebe smiled at him, her face glowing. “Does that mean you’ll escort me to Stonehaven?”
Geoffrey looked a trifle taken aback, then responded in a faintly surprised voice, “Yes, I guess it does.”
“Thank you!” Phoebe reached out impulsively and took his hand. “You are so good. I knew I could count on you.”
“Of course, of course. Your servant, you know that.” He paused, then said a little reluctantly, “Well, I suppose I better go home and start getting things in order.”
Phoebe almost had to laugh at his less-than-eager expression. She strongly suspected that Geoffrey’s valet would be the one doing all the work, so she could not feel too sorry for Geoffrey. However, she did appreciate his escorting her to Buckinghamshire; she was not sure she would have been brave enough to go alone. So she walked him to the door, her hand linked through his arm, assuring him of how much she depended on him and how kind he was. By the time they reached the front door, he seemed to be in good spirits again and rather proud of himself for rescuing a damsel in distress.