Alissa Baxter

by The Dashing Debutante

  “Do you not?” Lady Barrington purred. “Men of the world, Miss Grantham, no matter what the romantic novels you have read say, far prefer sophisticated women to virtuous innocents like yourself. And his grace is most definitely a man of the world. Do not delude yourself, my dear.”

  Alexandra stood up. “You are mistaken in at least one of the things you have said, ma’am.”

  “I think not,” Lady Barrington murmured, rising as well, and ringing the bell for Fairchild.

  Alexandra looked haughtily across at the other woman. “I have always preferred reading the Classics to romantic novels. Good day, your ladyship.”

  With her head held high, Alexandra followed Fairchild down the stairs to where Hobbes was waiting for her, and she and her maid left the Barrington residence together. Thinking about her interview with Lady Barrington, Alexandra acknowledged that it had not gone as she had hoped it would. Lady Barrington’s barbed comments had found their well-aimed mark, and had quite distracted her from the real purpose of her visit. She felt, however, that speaking to Lady Barrington again would serve no purpose. The Marchioness would in all probability only deny the truth. Something else would have to be done.

  The frown creasing Alexandra’s brow lifted as an idea occurred to her. At Lady Sefton’s rout, this evening, she would in all probability be able to seek out Sir Jason Morecombe, and speak with him — very few social hostesses dared to leave the influential baronet off their invitation lists. She was convinced that Sir Jason was Lady Barrington’s accomplice. If she informed him that she was aware that the Marchioness was the author of the letters, he would, perhaps, advise his friend to give up the game she was playing. It was unlikely that she would be successful in her endeavours, Alexandra admitted to herself, but she wanted to at least do something. It was better than sitting idly by, waiting for fickle Fate to lend a hand in her affairs.

  When they arrived at Lady Sefton’s rout, that evening, Alexandra looked around her and was relieved when she immediately saw Sir Jason across the room, engaged in conversation with a group of people. Alexandra remained at her grandmother’s side until she saw him leave the group, then slipped away from Lady Beauchamp and made her way across the room to where he was standing. When she approached him, Sir Jason raised his quizzing glass to one eye and said softly, “My, my, what have I done to deserve this honour?”

  “Good evening, Sir Jason,” Alexandra said quietly. “It is of the utmost urgency that I speak with you in private.”

  “Indeed?” he drawled, continuing to view her through the quizzing glass.

  “Yes. I will be obliged to you if you would grant me a few moments of your time.”

  Sir Jason lowered the quizzing glass, and said softly, “Who am I to deny the request of a lady? Let us repair to the ante-chamber off this room, Miss Grantham. We can speak there in — ah — private.”

  Alexandra nodded her head and, hoping that no one would see them leaving together, followed the baronet into the next room.

  Wiping her suddenly damp hands on the skirt of her gown, Alexandra began, “Sir Jason, I have reason to believe that Lady Barrington wishes me and my brother harm. I suspect that you are aware of this?”

  Sir Jason regarded Alexandra inscrutably. “I fail to see what Lady Barrington’s animosity towards you — and your brother — has to do with me, Miss Grantham.”

  “She — she has not confided in you then? I had supposed you to be her confidant...”

  “And you hoped that I would speak to her ladyship on your behalf? My dear child, you cannot know me very well if you think that I would raise even a little finger to help you.”

  “I doubt that anyone has ever accused you of excessive gallantry, Sir Jason,” Alexandra said, flushing a little.

  The baronet’s lips twisted. “Not as far as I can recall.”

  Taking a deep breath, Alexandra continued, “But, how can you approve of Lady Barrington’s devious schemes?”

  “All is fair in love and war, Miss Grantham. You should have learnt that little lesson by now.”

  “But — but Lady Barrington’s methods are despicable — and wholly unscrupulous. Surely, you cannot approve of her threat to murder my brother, Sir Jason?”

  The drooping lids over Sir Jason’s eyes lifted suddenly, and he looked at Alexandra with startling keenness. “Lady Barrington has threatened to murder your brother, Miss Grantham?” Snapping his snuffbox closed, he murmured, “You interest me very much, my dear. Very much, indeed.”

  “Are — are you not then aware of her plans?” Alexandra asked, looking uncertainly at the man opposite her.

  Sir Jason smiled slightly. “I am rarely unaware of anything, Miss Grantham. But, why have you come to me with your problem? We are not precisely — er — friends.”

  “No, sir, we are not. However, I had hoped to prevail upon you to convince Lady Barrington to give up the deep game she is playing. I cannot see what purpose it will serve for us to meet in secret tomorrow evening at Vauxhall Gardens — in a Grecian Temple of all places!”

  “Lady Barrington, I am sure, has her reasons, Miss Grantham.”

  Alexandra sighed. “Will you not then speak to her on my behalf?”

  “No, I will not. I rarely help anyone, and am disinclined to start doing so now.”

  Alexandra glared at Sir Jason, thinking that she had never met a more disagreeable man in her life. In a stiff little voice she said, “Then, I have nothing more to say to you, sir. Good evening.”

  Sir Jason gave a flourishing bow. “Good evening, Miss Grantham.”

  Walking away from him, Alexandra reflected that she had been a fool to have even attempted to speak to Sir Jason. The only thing she could now do, she admitted reluctantly to herself, was to wait until tomorrow evening’s proposed meeting with the Marchioness in Vauxhall Gardens. Hopefully, then, she would be able to reason with a woman she was fast becoming convinced belonged only in Bedlam.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next day was filled to overflowing with engagements, and Alexandra found very little time to contemplate her course of action for the evening. It was only when she was in her bedchamber in the late afternoon, dressing for the Vauxhall Gardens party, that she had any time to herself. Perhaps it was better this way, Alexandra reflected, as Hobbes helped her to put on her gown. Although she had never been of a nervous disposition, she had an uneasy suspicion that if she had been granted an hour or two’s reflection today, she might very well have worked herself up into a fever of apprehension. As it was, she was worried about how she could contrive to give her grandmother the slip this evening.

  When Hobbes finally left her, Alexandra sank down onto her bed, uncomfortably aware of a churning feeling inside her stomach. The thought of her upcoming meeting with Lady Barrington weighed heavily on her mind, and she was becoming more and more doubtful about the wisdom of her decision not to inform anyone about the letters and her appointed rendez-vous this evening. She glanced up with a start when she heard a knock on the door, and when Emily entered the room, Alexandra made a sudden decision.

  “Pray be seated, Emily,” she said. “I have something that I would like to tell you.”

  “Oh?” Emily asked, sitting down next to her friend.

  Alexandra cleared her throat nervously. “Yes, but first, I want you to promise not to say anything about it to anyone.”

  “I give you my word that I won’t,” Emily said gravely. “I hope that nothing is amiss? You look rather drawn.”

  “I have reason to be,” Alexandra said soberly. “A few days ago I received an anonymous letter from someone who threatened to murder John if I accepted an offer of marriage from the Duke of Stanford.”

  Emily paled. “Oh no, Alex!”

  “And then yesterday, I received another note from the same person, telling me to meet her at Vauxhall Gardens tonight at the Grecian Temple.”

  “It — it is a woman?”

  “I believe that Lady Barrington is the writer of the letters
. She is the only person that I can think of who could possibly not want me to marry the Duke.”

  “But how awful, Alexandra! What shall you do? You cannot go alone to this temple. It will be far too dangerous.”

  “I have to, Emily. If I fail to arrive, there is every chance that Lady Barrington could arrange to have John murdered.”

  “Oh, Alexandra, don’t say so. No one could be so — so evil.”

  “I am beginning to think that Lady Barrington is insane. There is no other explanation for her behaviour.”

  “My poor, poor John. I cannot bear the thought of losing him — and you!”

  Alexandra drew a deep breath. “I am determined to meet Lady Barrington this evening, and get to the bottom of the matter, Emily. However, I know that I could be placing myself in grave danger and that is why I have decided to tell you my plans. If something happens to me, at least you will know where I am.”

  “If something happens to you?” Emily faltered.

  “I am taking a pistol with me, so I should be reasonably safe. I will see what Lady Barrington has to say, and then come back to you.”

  “Perhaps we should tell Lady Beauchamp about this, Alex,” Emily said tearfully. “I would never forgive myself if you came to harm.”

  Alexandra put her hands on Emily’s shoulders, and looked her friend straight in the eye. “You have given me your word that you will say nothing of this to anyone, Emily. You must keep it. Only say something if I fail to return within the hour.”

  “Oh, Alex — you are so brave... I — I won’t say anything, but do be careful.”

  “I will be,” Alexandra said, a little shakily. Sighing, she continued, “I am sorry to have burdened you with this, Emily, but I know that I can trust you to keep silent.”

  “How — how are you going to contrive to slip away on your own?”

  Alexandra frowned. “That is the only thing that I am unsure of, as yet.”

  Alexandra was still contemplating this problem when their carriage drew up before the waterside at Vauxhall Gardens later that evening. After Lady Beauchamp and Emily had been helped out, Alexandra descended from the carriage, smiling when she saw Letitia, Sir Charles and Amelia, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, awaiting them.

  They took sculls across the river, to enter by the water-gate. Alexandra, who had never before visited the famous gardens, would at any other time have been delighted at the fairy-tale sight that met her eyes. However, the thought of her upcoming meeting with Lady Barrington dominated her thoughts, and she was unable to appreciate the beautiful gardens, which were laid out in groves and colonnades, and lit by thousands of lamps, some of which were suspended in elegant festoons between the pillars of the colonnades. She felt obliged to make some comment about her surroundings, however, when Lady Beauchamp inquired of her whether she found the grounds to her liking. “They’re charming, Grandmama, absolutely charming,” she murmured in response.

  Sir Charles escorted his guests to the Rotunda where a concert was about to be given. Alexandra, who had never been particularly fond of music, paid very little attention to the concert and would not have been able to recall any of the pieces performed had anyone seen fit to inquire of her how she had enjoyed it. She came out of her doldrums, however, when, after the first act of the concert was completed, the bell rang and people flooded into the Rotunda. She inquired of Sir Charles, who was seated beside her, what had drawn the crowd. “They have come to witness the Grand Cascade, Miss Grantham. It is an amazingly lifelike rural scene, done in miniature. But — you will see,” he responded, when the dark curtain began to arise.

  Alexandra was entranced with the spectacle that met her eyes. The Grand Cascade consisted of a miniature moat where water, running down a cascade and water mill, caused a succession of coaches, wagons and other vehicles to move in a lifelike manner. Alexandra thought that the attention to detail was amazing, and smiled in pleasure when she heard the rushing waters and the sound of the wheels moving.

  Sir Charles suggested at that moment that they might prefer to partake of supper instead of waiting to hear the second part of the concert. This being agreed to, their small party left the Rotunda, and strolled down one of the lighted colonnades past a spacious Pavilion, lined with mirrors, to the supper-box that Sir Charles had hired for their accommodation. The box overlooked the principle grove, a little way from a large kiosk where an orchestra was playing lovely melodies. Alexandra noted with pleasure the pretty coloured lights that adorned the kiosk, and the magnificent fountains that gushed forth water, and wished, regretfully, that she could have visited the pleasure gardens when she was in a better frame of mind to appreciate her surroundings. As it was, she found it difficult to think beyond the dangerous position in which she was about to place herself. Alexandra placed her hand on her reticule and, feeling the reassuring butt of her pistol through the soft material, sent up a silent prayer that she would not have to use the weapon this evening.

  Alexandra nibbled on the wafer-thin shavings of ham that the Garden was famous for, and tasted a little of the rack-punch, but she found it impossible to do justice to the meal that Sir Charles had carefully ordered, merely toying with food on her plate. Sir Charles, eyeing her with a worried frown in his eyes, asked her if she found the meal to her satisfaction. Alexandra, surprised to find herself under observation, forced a smile to her pale lips, and murmured quickly, “The food is delicious, Sir Charles. Only, I am suffering slightly from the headache, and I regret that my appetite has quite deserted me.”

  Sir Charles smiled, and said quietly, “I’m sorry to hear that, my dear. I hope that you will soon feel more the thing. Would you like a glass of lemonade?”

  Alexandra nodded, and sipped the cool liquid which helped to revive her a little. Suddenly she was aware of a strange sensation of being watched, and looking across at the line of boxes opposite theirs, she stiffened abruptly when her eyes locked with those of Sir Jason Morecombe’s. The baronet nodded his head and smiled loathsomely at her, before turning away to speak to a member of his party. Alexandra sat in frozen shock as she realised that she may have been quite incorrect in thinking that Lady Barrington had written the letters to her. Her mind a whirl of confused thoughts, Alexandra tried to make sense of Sir Jason’s presence in the Gardens. Perhaps it was only coincidence that the baronet had decided this night, of all nights, to visit Vauxhall Gardens, she thought hopefully. But, he had smiled so knowingly at her just now, almost as if they were conspirators in some abhorrent affair. He must have written the letters to her, she realised suddenly. Probably as some kind of wicked jest. How amusing he must have found it when she had come to him, asking him to reason with Lady Barrington, she thought grimly. Well she was prepared for him. At half past eleven, she would confront him, pistol in hand, and demand an explanation from him for his conduct.

  At ten minutes past eleven, Alexandra was trying to think up an appropriate excuse she could put forward that would enable her to leave the supper-box alone when, to her relief, Sir Charles suggested that they all depart the box to see the Fireworks. They made their way to the part of the grounds that commanded the best position for the firework display and Alexandra, momentarily forgetting her troubles, stared in fascination at the flaming rockets that soared upwards and burst into fragmented, colourful lights above them. An enormous Catherine-wheel lit the sky after that and, regretfully remembering her secret assignation, Alexandra decided that now, when everyone was gazing up at the Wheel in rapt admiration, would be an appropriate time to slip away. Emily was standing beside her, and she briefly squeezed her friend’s hand before hurrying away from the group.

  She was uncertain where the Long Walk was situated, and stopped to ask a friendly looking woman the way. The woman, although obviously surprised that a well-bred young lady was wandering around alone, nonetheless directed her where to go. Alexandra trod quickly up the Long Walk, thankful that the Walk, which was lit by dozens of coloured lamps, appeared to be deserted. She supposed t
hat most people were either still at supper, or watching the fireworks. She passed one or two young bucks who ogled her, and one rakish-looking gentleman stepped forward to say something to her, but Alexandra frowned so ferociously at him that he backed away and wisely decided to pursue easier game.

  Alexandra eventually reached the end of the Walk, and saw a small structure there that she assumed to be the Grecian Temple. It was lit with coloured lamps, and with the moon’s silver rays illumining it, the Temple was a remarkably pretty sight. Alexandra, however, found herself unable to appreciate it. For her, this building was only associated with danger and evil. She shivered a little as she paused before the few shallow steps that led up to the Temple and removed her small pistol from her reticule. Feeling somewhat braver now that she held the gun in her hand, she trod quietly up the steps and entered the Temple, looking apprehensively around her.

  Hearing a footfall behind her, Alexandra spun around, her pistol held at the ready. She never quite knew how it happened but the gun, which was at one moment held securely in her hands, was suddenly knocked from her grasp. She stared in frozen horror as a huge man, wearing what appeared to be a dusty frieze-coat and a battered hat, advanced quickly towards her and held her arms at her side, while his partner, a youth, gagged her and efficiently bound her wrists and ankles. Belatedly, Alexandra began to struggle but her efforts were to no avail. The man in the frieze-coat merely picked her up as if she weighed nothing and, chuckling in an evil manner, said softly, “You’re coming with me, my pretty!” before carrying her away from the Grecian Temple down one of the deserted winding walks that led to the land-entrance.

  As they left Vauxhall Gardens, Alexandra caught a glimpse of several carriages that were awaiting their owners at the entrance. She hoped frantically that someone would step forward and stop her attempted abduction, but knew that no one had seen them when she was bundled into a travelling chaise and the door was shut firmly behind her. The equipage began to move forward immediately, and Alexandra, lying on the seat of the carriage like a trussed up hare, angrily realised that she had walked straight into the trap that Sir Jason had prepared for her.