by Joan Smith
“Lady Haldiman would not make for easy attaching though,” Sara said, and drew a deep sigh.
The fresh sea air had made her sleepy, and when Deverel arrived after dinner, she went to her room. She lay on her bed, thinking. How odd that little Mary should have found a husband before she did. Richard had proved, on closer acquaintance, to be unexceptionable. His good sense was already having a beneficial influence on Mary. She no longer quoted Miss Harvey as her arbiter in social matters.
* * * *
At the Hall Miss Harvey also announced she was “fagged to death after all that fresh air,” and would have a lie-down. Her announcement came not five minutes after Mr. Moore’s departure. She had accompanied him to the door and had a few private words with him before he left. No one thought anything of it.
“It is pretty early,” Peter pointed out. With Moore bounced off, he hoped to rush his own suit with Betsy forward.
“I plan to come down again,” she said. “I shall just read for a bit and return for a nightcap, about ten.” Her eyes batted an invitation at Peter. “Will you still be up?”
“I never retire that early,” he assured her.
Lady Haldiman made an early night of it, too. It was only Haldiman and Peter who sat below, chatting idly as they scanned the journals. The former had taken the habit of waiting up for Deverel, to learn what was said at Whitehern. Mostly he wanted to know if Sir Swithin had been there. Peter kept an eye on the longcase clock, counting the minutes till ten. Ten o’clock came and went, with no sign of Betsy. At ten-thirty, he became restive.
“She said ten o’clock,” he mentioned to his brother.
“No doubt she nodded off.”
“But she ain’t in bed. She would not undress when she planned to come back down. Perhaps I should have her woman just take a look in.”
“You can speak to her in the morning,” Haldiman replied.
“Yes.” Peter tapped his fingers nervously on his knees a moment. “But I think I shall just have her woman take a look in,” he decided, and rang for the butler to deliver the message.
Deverel returned and had a glass of wine, over which he was discreetly quizzed. “Any other company at Whitehern?” Haldiman asked blandly.
“Not for most of the evening. Idle—what a quiz the man is—arrived late, about nine-thirty, with a poem he wanted to read Miss Wood. She came downstairs to meet him, though she had said earlier she had the megrims. She did look drawn, but Swithin was still there, prosing her ear off, when I left.”
“I don’t know what Mrs. Wood is about, letting that popinjay run tame.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the butler. They knew by his bulging eyes he had great news, and when he spoke, he spoke in an ominous voice. “I’m afraid it is impossible to speak to Miss Harvey, Lord Peter.”
“Good God! She’s not taken ill!” Peter exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
“She’s not here at all. She’s gone, bag and baggage,” the butler announced.
“Gone!” Peter looked wildly from butler to brother. “What do you mean, gone!”
“Gone, and her woman with her.”
“Impossible. Deverel—was she at Whitehern?”
“Lord, no. What would she be doing there in the middle of the night?”
“Did she say anything to you in the carriage on the way home?”
Deverel tugged his ear. “It’s odd, now you mention it. She kept telling Mary how much she had enjoyed her company, and how she’d never forget her. I remember Mary laughing and saying that she sounded as though they would never meet again. But that’s all. She did not say word one about actually leaving.”
“You say her baggage is gone?” Haldiman asked the butler.
“Minnie went in and had a look around her room. She’s packed up a few things and taken them with her. Her trunks are in the middle of the room, also packed. She’ll send for them, we figure. Miss Harvey’s woman did come looking for packing paper this afternoon,” the butler remembered. “I thought nothing of it. She said she was putting away some woolens that her mistress would not be using for a few months.”
There was a moment’s silence while this was digested. Into the silence Lord Peter exclaimed, “Moore!”
“By God, she’s gone off with him!” Deverel said, in a voice more excited than anxious.
“She was here after he left,” Haldiman pointed out.
“This is more than coincidence,” Peter worried. “But how did she meet up with him? She must have taken a carriage, or hack. Call the groom,” he said to the butler.
Soon the groom appeared, bristling with indignation. “She didn’t get her hands on any of our horseflesh,” he said firmly. “If the young lady is gone, she went on shank’s mare. Our bloods are all bedded down for the night, sir.”
“She certainly did not walk far in the darkness,” Peter said. “Moore must have been waiting a few yards down the road. They planned the whole thing in advance. Did Moore receive a letter today?” he asked the butler.
“No, milord. He has not received anything in the post since his arrival.”
“By God, it was a ruse. And that means she’s been gone since eight-thirty. Damn, Rufus, they could be well on their way to Gretna Green by now.”
“Yes, if he plans to marry her,” Deverel added in an ominous voice.
It was all Lord Peter needed. “Saddle up my mount,” he said to John Groom.
“Take my curricle and grays,” Haldiman suggested. “They’re fast, and you’ll want a carriage to bring her back.”
“Can you bring her back?” Deverel inquired politely. “She is an adult, only nominally under your protection, Haldiman.”
“I can punch Moore’s nose in at least,” Peter said, and stalked from the room.
“It may be London they headed for. Miss Harvey speaks of it a good deal,” Deverel mentioned to Haldiman.
“I’ll take the London road. Do you want to come with me?”
“Certainly—or would it be better for me to head west, in case he’s taking her to his own home in Devon?”
“We might as well cover all possibilities.”
“I shall ask Mary to come with me. It would be well to have a lady along, don’t you think?”
“She has her woman,” Haldiman reminded him.
“Then Mrs. Wood will not object to Mary’s coming,” he said happily, reinterpreting it to his own liking.
Lord Haldiman did a little interpreting of his own and added, “I’ll stop at Whitehern as well. Perhaps Mary will remember something to help us. It is odd Betsy decided to drive home from the picnic with you two.”
Deverel gave him a bright-eyed, laughing look. “Yes, and Miss Wood might just insist on accompanying you, Haldiman, though to tell the truth, she don’t care a jug for Miss Harvey.”
Haldiman didn’t hear this jibe. He was already on the way to his office, to get money from his safe. There was no saying what straits Moore might have landed himself and Betsy in. It was well to be prepared to pay any bills they might have run up. Considering Haldiman’s dislike for both the principals in this runaway match, he looked to be in remarkably good humor.
Chapter Fifteen
Sir Swithin was just rising languorously to take his leave of the Woods when the clatter of a hard-driven carriage was heard beyond the window. “How the blood stirs to hear that sound!” he exclaimed. “One envisages a message from his monarch, summoning the lieges to arms against invasion. But I daresay it is nothing more interesting than that Deverel forgot his snuffbox.”
“He doesn’t use snuff,” Mary said.
A second carriage was heard, hot on the heels of the first. “There is another!” Sara said, jumping to her feet.
The arrival of two carriages at such an hour was unusual enough that everyone trooped into the hallway to see what was happening. Deverel was the first at the door with Haldiman hard behind him, both faces showing unusual eagerness.
Deverel was smiling from ear to ear. “The most exc
iting thing, Mary! Miss Harvey has run off with Moore and we are going to go after them. Will your mama let you come with me? I am taking the route west toward Moore’s house.”
Sara looked at Haldiman. “Is it true?” she asked, examining him for signs of distress. She noticed at once that he was as excited as Deverel, yet she could not find in his expression much of chagrin or even anger.
“I’m afraid it is. We stopped by to see if Betsy had said anything to Mary that might tell us which way she planned to go.”
“Nothing about a runaway match,” Mary said. “Mama, may I go with Richard?”
“At this hour of the night?” Mrs. Wood asked. “Oh my dear, I cannot think it at all the thing. You might be gone all night.” She glanced uncertainly to the older gentlemen for their opinion.
“Deverel will only have to go a few miles to make inquiries at the tollbooths. We do not really think they have gone west. London or Gretna Green are the more likely destinations,” Haldiman explained. “But we wish to cover all possible contingencies. I expect Deverel will be back within a few hours.”
“Oh please, Mama!” Mary begged. “You know Richard and I are going to get engaged, so there can be no harm in it. Tell her, Haldiman.”
“I can vouch for Deverel’s character, ma’am. Really, no harm will come to Mary,” Haldiman said. He knew as he said it that it was out of character for him to recommend anything even hinting at impropriety, but he felt there was no real danger in it. And if he cast any aspersions on Mary’s going, how could he hope to get Sara into his own carriage?
“We’ll be engaged, right this minute,” Deverel suggested. “I mean to say I have already asked Mary, and she has accepted. I have written to Papa. There can be no question of his refusing. Surely a gentleman may take his fiancée for a drive, even at night.” As he spoke, he yanked a heavy gold signet ring from his finger and pushed it onto the appropriate finger of Mary’s left hand. She smiled beatifically.
“Now it is all right,” she said. Her mother gave a worried frown but did not contradict her. Mary darted off for her bonnet and pelisse. The only shadow on her evening’s entertainment was that Richard had chosen the western route. If it proved futile, she would convince him to dash for Gretna Green. Where else would anyone run away to to get married?
“Miss Harvey’s woman is with her, so if we do chance to meet up with them, we will have a chaperon,” Deverel added.
“Yes, but it is your not meeting up with them that concerns me,” Mrs. Wood pointed out.
“Oh, in that case, we will be back before you know we’re gone. Mary would not like to miss such an opportunity as this. She may never have another chance to chase a runaway bride. It would be a pity to rob her of it,” Deverel said, with earnest sincerity.
Sir Swithin nodded. “True, Mrs. Wood. Outrageous, but true. Life offers too few adventures. Let the child go. It will be a night to remember. I too shall join in the chase. Sara, will you come with me?”
Sara looked uncertainly at Haldiman and noticed his quick scowl. “I must own, I should like to go,” she said, with a tentative glance at her mother. Sara, of course, did not have a fiancé to lend her countenance in this scheme.
“There is no need for you to put yourself out,” Haldiman said to Idle. “We have all the roads covered.”
“I go to amuse moi-même,” Idle admitted unblushing. “Ah, more’s the pity,” he gave a tch of dismay. “I walked down from Heron Hall. I must make a detour home—unless you would be kind enough to let me go in your rig, Haldiman?” Before Haldiman could object, Idle rattled on. “Too kind. Get your pelisse, Sara, my dear. You, too, must have something to tell your children. Do not crease that lovely brow with a frown, Mrs. Wood. Your girls are in respectable hands.”
Sara could accept Idle’s company when it got her into Haldiman’s carriage without argument. She, too, dashed off for pelisse and bonnet. Within sixty seconds they were all reassembled in the hall, chattering excitedly among themselves and sounding as happy, Mrs. Wood thought, as if they were heading off to an assembly.
“The livery stable is the first stop,” Deverel said. “John Groom tells us the carriage that drove Moore to the village returned to the Hall right enough, so he must have hired something. Perhaps they overheard at the stable where he was headed.”
The two groups hastened to the carriages and were off in a noisy flicking of whips and clatter of hooves and wheels. Lord Peter was at the stable before them. He had already quizzed the proprietor and was just leaving. “Moore hired a carriage and team of four,” he called to his cohorts. “He won’t make much time on the old jades he hired here. Your grays will soon run him down, Rufus.”
“Did you learn which way they went?” Haldiman called back.
“They said London, so I am assuming it is Gretna Green. Moore is too sly to announce his destination, and he will be eager to get a ring on her finger, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. You go north, I’ll take the London road, just in case, and Deverel will go west.”
Deverel’s curricle, with Mary sitting by his side, was the first to rattle off. Lord Peter, the only one who was really anxious, whipped up his brother’s horses and headed for the Great North Road. The possibility of losing Betsy made her dearer to him, or perhaps only made him realize how dear she was. As he drove along, he remembered all the good times they had enjoyed together: how helpful she had been after Fiona’s death, what a keen interest she took in his sons, and how easy she was to talk to, always good-humored and finding a laugh in everything. He inquired at the first tollbooth for Moore’s carriage and was told no rig holding a young couple and a doyen had passed.
Such was Lord Peter’s opinion of Moore that he feared the man had bribed the toll collector. He drove hell for leather to the next tollbooth, where he was told the same story. He pulled a golden boy from his pocket and handed it to the man. “That’s more than Moore used to bribe you. The truth now, and be quick about it. You’ll have Lord Haldiman making mischief for you if you’re lying.”
The man pocketed the gold coin. “It’s the honest truth, sir. No such a carriage has passed this way. It’s been a quiet night. I’ve only collected five tolls, and none of the carriages held a lady, except for old Lady Gavin, going to visit her daughter who is lying in.”
It sounded like the truth, but Lord Peter forged on to the next tollbooth. It was possible Moore had taken some back roads to fool him. At the third booth he cunningly inquired for a curricle carrying a single gentleman. The toll gatherer told him he had not seen such a rig and rhymed off the five carriages that had passed through his gate. None of them matched Moore and Betsy. He pulled aside to consider his next step.
Moore’s having announced London as their destination certainly sounded like Gretna Green. Why had Betsy done it, when she had been so friendly that evening? She had particularly told him she would be downstairs at ten o’clock. She knew what he wanted to say to her. And in his heart he felt she would prefer himself to the penniless Moore. Betsy was no fool where money was concerned. Telling him she would come down at ten almost insured discovery of her departure. Was that what she wanted? And telling the stable where she was going—that almost seemed like instructions to follow her.
She was paying him off for his neglect. That’s what it was. She was showing him he must look lively if he meant to have her. And he deserved it, too. Why had he not slipped the ring on her finger weeks ago? There had never been anyone but Betsy for him, not since Fiona’s death. It was Rufus who talked him out of it, telling him he owed Sara an offer. Sara didn’t love him and never had. He turned the rig around, whipped up the team, and pelted back. After a few miles he met Deverel and Mary.
“They ain’t headed west, so we have come along to help you,” Deverel explained, as their carriages drew alongside for a moment.
“Kind of you, but they tipped me the double and went to London. Haldiman will overtake them. You’d best get Mary home, Deverel.”
“No, we shal
l follow you,” Mary said at once. “If Sara and Idle and everyone is there, I shall be more than sufficiently chaperoned.” Richard had already executed a turn and kept the pace behind Lord Peter.
This part of the countryside was familiar to Peter, and by taking a shortcut, he could save five miles. He would not be far behind Rufus, but it was Rufus who would overtake Betsy. That wouldn’t please her, but it would keep her out of mischief at least.
**
Haldiman, Idle, and Sara went in a closed carriage with a team of four. The story they heard as they progressed was startlingly different from that Peter listened to. Aye, such a rig had passed several hours ago. The lady was very nervous, chatting about being overtaken. If they had known she was a guest of Lord Haldiman, they would have stopped the lad, but at the rate her hired jades were going, they could not have got far. They’d be overtaken by morning.
“I find it odd that an accomplished scoundrel like Moore left such an easy trail to follow,” Sir Swithin mentioned. “Is it possible he went to the bother of bribing people to say he came this way, when he was actually headed north?”
“How could he have done it?” Sara asked. “He was at the picnic all afternoon. He has no groom who could have done it for him. Did he bring a valet, Haldiman?”
“No, he used one of my footmen.”
Idle winced. “Poor lad. He turned out astonishingly well, considering. That cravat he wore at your ball was worthy of Brummell. Not worthy of Idle, but by no means contemptible.”
As the carriage progressed, it seemed the runaways had stopped at every tree to announce their direction. “No, really. This is too much to credit,” Idle said, massaging his chin. “We are being led astray. Let us hope Lord Peter is having better luck.”
“I wonder,” Haldiman said, eyes narrowing. “Is it possible ... She did make a point of saying she would come downstairs at ten. Why would she do that, call attention to her flight, if she did not wish to be caught?”