Gabriel reached down and grabbed the back of her gown and robe at the nape of her neck and saved her from falling. Bent completely over, he pulled her up beside him, then wrapped one arm around her waist, supporting most of her weight as she grabbed for a fistful of the rope-like vines.
“Are you all right?" he asked.
All Emily managed was a nod, but not because of the close call. His nearness set her heart to wildly beating and made her knees weak. She took several deep breaths to get control of herself. Another mistake, she realized as she reveled in his scent.
“You don't have to do this, Em."
“Don't be silly, Gab.” She sounded breathless to her own ears. She swallowed hard. “Besides, I am perfectly fine."
“I won't be able to keep you from falling once you're out on the ledge."
“If you're trying to scare me, save your breath."
“Very well." He shifted her weight and eased her closer to the ledge. She wanted to cling to him. He felt so good, so warm, so safe. She let go of the vine, then quickly grabbed it again when the branch in her other hand pulled away from the brick. Instantly, she felt his arm tighten around her waist, drawing her close to his body again.
“Test it first while I've got you." Then, he clasped her to his chest and whispered in her ear. "Be careful, Em."
This time his hand grabbed a handful of her robe at the waist before she eased her weight on the cold stone. It held and gradually Emily slid from the vine onto the ledge with one hand clutching the ivy, the other stretched out, until her fingers curled around a brick.
The window that appeared so close from the ground now seemed miles away. She looked down and shuddered. It was a twenty foot drop. But she was committed and so inched along until Gabriel was forced to let go of her robe and hold her hand, then her fingers. She was inches from the window. All she had to do was grab the window frame. Expecting Gabriel to let go, she reached and grasped the frame.
“I got it, Gab," she said and he freed her hand. She quickly grabbed the jam and swung in through the open window. Pulling her skirts in after her, she turned and poked her head out. With several lengths of vine wrapped around one arm, Gabriel made his was back down the drainpipe.
“Gab."
“Quiet, Em,” he said in a near whisper. “I'll meet you at the library door."
Holding her breath, she watched as he started to work his way toward the ground. Then turning, she saw she was in a bedroom. The room was lit by a single taper on a commode next to the biggest bed she'd ever seen. It was twice the size of a normal bed. She realized then it was Gabriel's chamber. But she didn't have time to take a good look around. Her feet sank into the deep pile carpet as she raced across the room and out the door into the corridor and down the stairs.
Gabriel was standing outside the library door, waiting for her.
“Quickly, Em," he said once she unlocked the French window. "Chesterfield just rode up to the stables and is headed this way."
*** Chapter 4 ***
“Where do you suppose he has been?" Emily asked.
“It hardly matters now,” Gabriel replied. “If he sees you with me, looking like this...." There was a wealth of warmth in his voice, and Emily felt a hot blush suffuse her cheeks.
“Who goes there?" Chesterfield's voice, coming from the other side of the French doors, sent Emily frantically flying for the door to the hallway. She was half way up the stairs before she wondered how Gabriel would explain his disheveled appearance to Chesterfield.
Once safely in her room, Emily went to the washstand, poured water from an ewer into a matching china basin, and used a hand towel to cleanse the blood from her feet and hands. Though there were numerous bruises and scratches, none appeared serious. Rinsing out the towel, she then opened a window and tossed out the contents from the bowl. She didn't want Grace asking any embarrassing questions in the morning. Changing into a clean gown, she dragged an arm chair over to the door and curled up in it. With one ear against the jam, she waited for the Viscount.
That arrogant man had much to answer for. After tonight, he certainly couldn't deny something harvy-carvy was going on. Why had he been in the garden? She then remembered his dread of being caught with her and forced into marriage. While this thought caused her heart to flutter, she chose to ignore it. She intended to put his mind to rest, even if it meant informing him outright she had no such devious designs on him.
According to the chimes of the long case clock in the hall at the bottom of the stairs, a half hour passed before her vigilance was rewarded as the two men came up the stairs. Emily strained to hear what they were saying but couldn't make out their words. In desperation, she opened the door and poked her head out.
Harry Chesterfield stood down the hall with his back to her, half concealing Gabriel who was facing her. When Gabriel's head suddenly jerked to his right, Emily knew he saw her and gestured with her hand for him to come to her room. While Chesterfield babbled on about some fishing hole, she was rewarded with Gabriel's answer, a casual shake of his head--no!
Emily wasn't used to taking no for an answer. With violent arm movements, she indicated the urgency of seeing him in her room. Then, she waited for his response, and waited. She was getting ready to repeat the pantomime when Chesterfield finally made a move toward his room.
“The ladies want a quiet day to let the chaperones recoup from their journeys," she heard Chesterfield say. "If the fishing is as good as you say, I'm game to have a go at it."
“It's settled then," replied Gabriel, clapping his guest on his shoulder. “I'll make sure you get an early call. See you in a few hours."
Emily quickly ducked inside her room but didn't close the door completely. She suspected Gabriel would try to bypass her, and so, when he was even with her door, she darted into the hall, grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and yanked. She continued to pull on his arm until he quit fighting and allowed her to drag him into her room.
“Are you insane?" he hissed after she'd firmly shut the door.
“No. But you are if you think for one moment I could sleep not knowing what Chesterfield was doing out tonight.” She waited and when he didn’t reply, she asked, “So, what did he say he was up to?"
“Emily, it's after midnight and I have to be up in five hours."
“Did you ask where he had been? Did he say anything about your clothes?" She pointed to his vest. The top button was glaringly absent where his cravat was messily stuffed into it. “Do you know your waistcoat is torn?"
“No, and, more importantly, you haven't heard one word I've said."
They stood toe to toe, glowering at one another. Gabriel must have sensed that it was a losing battled, for he gave in first with an exasperated sigh.
“He'd gone to the Boar's Head Inn to, er, visit a friend."
Emily nodded her head knowingly. “That would be Rose."
For a moment, Gabriel was speechless. “How . . .how is it that you know about these things?"
She had obviously shocked him and tried to suppress a satisfied grin.
“No, don't answer that," he added. “It's better if I don't know."
“It is common gossip hereabouts that the bar maid is not adverse to making a shilling or two under the table."
“Say no more, Emily." Gabriel held up both hands while turning a deaf ear toward her. “This whole conversation is most improper, to say nothing of the circumstances."
One fluttering hand waved his objection aside. She did, however, change the subject. “What time are you going fishing tomorrow?"
“Why?"
“Because the ladies will hardly be eager to see me in the drawing room. Besides, all they do is chat and tat."
“And you think you can go fishing with the men?"
"I always did with my brothers, so why not?"
“Because 'tis only men."
“What does that matter?"
“Because you'll not be welcome. Do you understand?"
From his tone, she dec
ided it was better to agree. At least, for now. “Oh pooh, I suppose."
“Good. Now, I bid you good night."
By eight the next morning, Emily was in the dining room, eating breakfast alone. She hadn't expected to encounter anyone else that early and was surprised when Jane Taber entered and bid her a timid good morning.
“Do you rise early every morning, Miss Taber?" Emily asked conversationally as an idea began to take shape.
“Please call me Jane, and yes, most mornings I do. It gives me a few hours to get chores done."
“Chores?"
Jane laughed at Emily's disgusted tone. "They are not nearly as bad as you make them sound."
“What sort of chores?"
“Repair a torn hem, sew lace on a flounce, that sort of thing. And sometimes Sylvia has errands--"
“Sylvia!" Emily very nearly snorted. “I should have known. So she manages to keep you carrying and fetching, even while she sleeps."
“Really, Miss Pendleton—“
“It’s Emily, if you please.”
“Emily, you make her sound horrid, and truly she is not."
”What has Sylvia reserved for you to do this morning?"
“Why, nothing," said Jane with a smile.
“Nothing?" Emily couldn't believe her luck. "Then, you can go about as you please?"
“Certainly."
“What time does the princess arise?"
With a laugh, Jane replied, "Sylvia gets up around ten or later."
“Would you be adverse to a leisurely stroll?"
“Why, that sounds lovely," answered the unsuspecting Jane.
The leisurely stroll turned into a vigorous hike through the Park’s woods. They soon came upon a fast running stream that crossed Lindemann’s property. Although Emily knew of at least three good fishing holes, she figured the Viscount also had a favorite spot. It wasn't too hard to find.
If Jane was suspicious of her motives, the young woman's shyness prevented her from letting on. Instead, Jane trudged steadily along, following Emily, who was beginning to feel twinges of guilt for having deceived her new friend.
Up ahead, the stream widened before narrowing again as it rounded a bend. Still in the lead, Emily neared the bend and heard the deep rumble of male voices with Chesterfield's being the most recognizable as he bellowed about some beauty of a trout.
“Do you hear that?" Emily asked innocently.
“Is that Mr. Chesterfield?"
“Shall we investigate?"
“Oh, I think not, Emily. If the gentlemen are angling, they do not care for women about, scaring the fish away."
“Oh nonsense," answered Emily blithely over her shoulder, lengthening her strides toward a weeping willow that overhung the bank. “If anyone scares the fish, it will be Mr. Chesterfield with his loud mouth. Come on, Jane."
As Emily brushed aside the long supple branches of the tree for Jane to pass under, three men could be seen just ahead. Chesterfield stood proudly, admiring a good sized trout he hefted in the air to show Gabriel. A little further up the bank was Lord Fordyce, lying on his back with a beaver top hat covering his face.
“Oh, that is a beauty!"
Emily's greeting caused the two men to whip around as if Napoleon's troopers had hailed them. Gabriel was the first to recover.
“Miss Pendleton, what are you doing here?" His expression softened when he spotted Jane trudging behind her. “Good morning, Miss Taber."
“Good day, gentlemen," the young woman responded shyly.
“We just happened to be walking by," Emily said, ignoring the challenging glint in Gabriel's eyes, "and heard Mr. Chesterfield's exclamations when he caught that granddaddy." For such praise, she was rewarded with a broad grin from Chesterfield.
“Quite a walk from the house to here," Gabriel commented.
“We do not mean to intrude,” Jane said in a meek voice. “Emily, we should be going and allow the gentlemen to return to their fun." Jane took a step back while eying Freddy Fordyce coming toward them. His sleepy eyes squinted under the brim of his hat, now on top of his head, and he gave them a wobbly bow. “My ladies."
“Good morning, Lord Fordyce." Emily waved her hand at the baron and also noticed the slight blush that bloomed in the other girl's cheeks. She grabbed Jane's hand to prevent her from leaving and asked, "How is the fishing, my lord?"
“Don't know," Freddy answered. “Ain't caught one."
“What Freddy means," said Gabriel with an amused grin for his friend, "is that the hour's a trifle early for him. So, he opted for a nap under the tree."
“Told you. The crow wasn't up when you came for me, didn't I?"
“True, but Harry and I managed to get up, and we went to bed after you."
“And the fishing is every bit as good as Gabriel promised," added Chesterfield, opening the lid of a basket and laying the squirming trout in it. “This prize is my third catch of the morning."
“Really?" Emily turned to Gabriel. “I would give anything to try my luck at it."
“I'll bet you would," Gabriel said with a smile. “How about you, Miss Tabor?"
Miss Taber answered with a shake of her head. "I have never fished before."
“I can teach you, Jane." Emily leaned down and took up a pole. "Whose is this?"
“Mine," answered Freddy. “So are the others," he added, pointing to several more poles almost hidden in the deep grass behind where Gabriel and Chesterfield stood.
“Do you run more than one line at a time?" Emily asked.
Gabriel began to laugh, bending over to pick up another rod. "Hardly, just the opposite, in fact. Freddy's always loosing his pole. He drops a line in the water and then nods off. When he awakes, it is usually to find his pole floating down stream."
While Emily chuckled with Gabriel and Chesterfield, Jane turned to the plump lord. "It is very early, my lord, and I can well understand how you lose your poles."
“Thank you," Freddy said, favoring the laughing trio with a smug grin.
“Then, you will not mind if we each borrow a pole?" asked Emily.
“No," said Freddy. “'Fact, be glad to teach Miss Taber."
“Which one of us will teach you, Miss Pendleton?" asked Chesterfield with a hopeful gleam in his eye.
“No one, my lord." Emily grinned proudly. "I have fished this stream for years."
Chesterfield looked skeptical. “How's that?"
“I used to toddle after my two brothers. To silence me, they'd hand me a rod, and eventually they taught me a few tricks."
“You don't say?" asked Chesterfield. “What sort of tricks?"
Emily bent down and took a moment to select a fat worm from a jar sitting on the bank. Holding it up, she carefully threaded the squirming earthworm on to her hook. "Tom has a special way of whipping the rod to send the line out across the water. You see, Mr. Chesterfield--"
“Call me Harry."
She gave him a beatific smile. "You see, Harry, it is all in the wrist, though I will admit to applying a little elbow in order to get the same effect as Tom."
With both Chesterfield and Gabriel studying her movements, Emily demonstrated the technique. Her line sailed out across the water, the hook skimming the surface twice before sinking mid stream.
Chesterfield asked to see another demonstration, and Emily cheerfully complied, explaining in detail every move. Though the Viscount said nothing, he, too, watched her closely.
“I must admit, Emily," Gabriel said at last, "I am impressed. You baited your own hook."
“Oh pooh! T’is nothing." Emily grinned impishly. “Though Sally Harrow nearly had a fit last year when I grabbed her line and put a night crawler on it at Squire Stratton's harvest festival."
Gabriel laughed. "Yes, I can imagine. Baiting hooks is not the unusual custom for most young ladies of Quality."
“It wasn't that at all. Miss Harrow was miffed because she was hoping my brother would do it. Fortunately, Tom showed more sense than to moon over a half wit like
Sally."
Freddy, who'd been threading a worm on Jane's hook, nodded his head. "Know how it is. Always some female after a fellow. Ain't safe anywhere, you see. Feel like a fish myself sometimes. 'Course, present company excepted," he quickly added with an apologetic smile for both the ladies.
Jane appeared tongue tied by the baron's forthrightness, but not Emily. "Oh, think nothing of it, Lord Fordyce--"
"Freddy."
"Freddy. In the ordinary sense of things, you are quite right. After all, one only has to think of London and Almack's." Seeing the baron's plump form actually shudder at the mere mention of the ton’s exclusive social club, Emily added, “You can rest easy around Jane and me."
Fresh lines were dropped and although the fish appeared to have quit biting, everyone’s mood was so bright that it little matter. In fact, on the stroll back to the house an hour later, Freddy confessed he was glad the ladies had shown up to enliven the morning.
“Ain't your usual types," he added with a meaningful nod in the direction of the house.
While Jane blushed, Emily took the off-handed compliment in stride. "Well, naturally we are not. Neither of us has set a cap for a husband. You cannot imagine how dreadful it is to be under the cat's paw, everyone expecting you to nab an eligible parti."
“So you say," Chesterfield challenged. "But if you go by the actions of society as a whole, Miss Pendleton,--"
“Call me Emily, or Em, if you please."
“Right you are, Em." Chesterfield grinned appreciatively. "The sole purpose of the Marriage Mart is to see every last male leg shackled."
Emily sagely nodded her head. "Yes, it does appear to be society’s wish. But consider what happens to a lady with an independent income who does not want a husband? Her relatives will force her into marriage because some gentleman needs her funds or a brood mare to produce an heir.”
Gabriel shook his head. "It's not as Gothic as all that, Emily. There are a lot of marriages where the husband and wife rub along quite nicely."
“Still, the fact remains that not every girl wishes to marry. If a girl chooses to lead her own life, she is tagged an ape leader."
The Hopeless Hoyden Page 5