Lord Darlington's Darling

by Gayle Buck

  The gentleman brayed a laugh. “That’s rich!” He slewed slowly around. “Here! Come back, I say!”

  Abby had no intention of doing any such thing. She picked up her skirt and the muffling cloak, and ran like a deer. She was not followed, and breathed her relief. At the corner she found a hackney quickly enough and climbed in, giving the jarvey the direction that would take her to the rendezvous with Mr. Farnham.

  All too quickly the hackney drew up. Abby peered out the window. Tendrils of fog wove a ghostly pattern, but she could see the black silhouette of a waiting chaise and a man standing behind the rear wheel.

  Abby’s heart began hammering again. The time had come. She gathered up her reticule and valise and climbed out of the hackney. When she had paid the jarvey, she turned toward the silent chaise.

  “ ‘Ere, miss! Do ye wish me to wait?” At the jarvey’s low-voiced query, Abby paused.

  Never in all of her life had she wanted more than to answer in the affirmative. The temptation to turn herself around and climb back into the hackney was almost irresistible. She shook her head. “No, no! Pray do not wait! Thank you!”

  She forced her feet onward across the cobbled street, hearing the hackney’s wheels roll away, and feeling as though her last friend in the world had left her. When she was nearly to the other curb, it occurred to her that this might not be Mr. Farnham but some unknown gentleman. She faltered, staring hard to decipher the man’s features.

  “Come on, then! What are you waiting for, my love?”

  The query was impatient and slightly tense, but she recognized Mr. Farnham’s voice. With a sigh of relief, Abby covered the distance between them. Holding the sheltering hood of the voluminous cloak close around her face, she mutely handed the valise to Mr. Farnham.

  He took it, scarcely glancing at her as he hurried her around to the side of the chaise. “We must be quick. The night watchman just passed here making his rounds. I don’t wish to still be here when he comes back around.”

  Mr. Farnham handed her up into the chaise, threw the valise after her. After a brief command to the driver, he climbed inside himself. The chaise was already in motion before he had slammed the door shut.

  Abby realized that the driver must have been ordered to make all haste, for the chaise bounded over the cobbles, making a clatter. She twisted her hands in her lap, nervously. She didn’t know what would happen next. It couldn’t be long, surely, before Mr. Farnham discovered her imposture. She didn’t want it to be too soon, however. She had a part to play, which she hoped would give Mr. Farnham reason to give up his pretensions to Lady Bethany’s hand.

  Mr. Farnham seemed to be in no mood to pursue conversation. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and swayed with the rocking of the carriage. Pale light from streetlamps passed across his face, showing glimpses of a pensive, rather grim, expression.

  Abby, watching him, wondered how she could ever have thought him to be handsome. Something inimical was set in his face. As though her intent regard had drawn his attention, Mr. Farnham gave a sigh and turned his face toward her.

  “This is a somewhat hurly-burly escape, my dear. When I had your note, that your brother the marquess had caught wind of our plans, I scarcely had time to make the proper arrangements. I am not at all satisfied with the quality of our conveyance or our driver, but runaways cannot be choosy, can they?”

  After a brief hesitation, Abby shook her head.

  Mr. Farnham laughed. Sly amusement underlay his voice. “Still having second thoughts, my love? Never mind! Once the knot is well tied, you need not fear that I shall press my loathsome attentions on you. You shall be free to cut your own path, as I am certain you shall! Such a passionate little thing, are you not? As long as you are discreet, I shall have nothing of which to complain.”

  “How dare you!” breathed Abby wrathfully.

  Mr. Farnham sat up abruptly from his slumping posture. His eyes stared very hard. “Take off that hood!” he snapped.

  Abby drew it back, staring back at him with defiance. The passing lamplight fell full on her face.

  “What the devil! Miss Fairchilde!”

  “Quite,” said Abby, her voice trembling only slightly. She managed the sliver of a smile. “You did not actually expect Lady Bethany to submit to your blackmail, did you, sir?”

  Mr. Farnham drew back as though struck. He quickly recovered, a bit of a snarl marring the perfection of his features. “An ugly word, Miss Fairchilde!”

  “But immensely apt, I believe,” said Abby calmly. She seemed to have the upper hand, and it steadied her nerves.

  Mr. Farnham was silent a moment, a black frown on his face. Abruptly he asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I think it perfectly clear. Lady Bethany wished to teach you a small lesson. She is not as frightened of you as you had assumed, Mr. Farnham.” Abby allowed a hint of contempt to drop into her voice, and had the satisfaction of seeing a flush come into his face.

  “So it seems! Yet what shall she say when I broadcast to the world how she disported herself at a Vauxhall masquerade?” demanded Mr. Farnham, showing his teeth.

  “Why, I think it entirely possible she will have to say nothing, sir. You see, there are any number of people willing to say that Lady Bethany was in company at a select private party that evening,” said Abby evenly, and suddenly wondered why such a simple expedient had not occurred to her before. It would have been so much simpler and so much less harrowing than this runaway flight into the night with a gentleman she both mistrusted and detested. Her only defense was that she was unused to forming conclusions on her own.

  Mr. Farnham appeared to absorb her statement with displeasure. For some minutes he was silent. Then several times he cast thoughtful glances in her direction. A slow smile touched his face, and he gave a low laugh.

  Abby misliked his laughter. It sounded peculiarly satisfied. She stiffened instinctively. “What amuses you so, Mr. Farnham?” she asked sharply.

  “Why, you do, Miss Fairchilde. Pray, how did you think you would return to the safety of your home?”

  Abby regarded the lounging gentleman with some misgivings. A frisson of premonition went up her spine. “You will let me out, of course. Especially when I tell you that shortly you will have little choice. I left word of this escapade with my brother-in-law.”

  She saw Mr. Farnham’s shake of the head.

  “I don’t quite believe you, Miss Fairchilde. Mr. Crocker has never struck me as the type of gentleman who would countenance such a mad scheme as this,” said Mr. Farnham.

  “He didn’t help me to plan it,” said Abby quickly, anxious to have him believe her. “I left a note and—”

  “You left a note! Oh, famous!” Mr. Farnham cracked a laugh. “My dear Miss Fairchilde, your naiveté is astonishing. The truth is that no one is as yet aware of your flight with me. Indeed, depending upon when your note is discovered, it may be hours and hours before anyone is the wiser.” He straightened slightly and leaned toward her to make his point. “I have you completely in my power, Miss Fairchilde.”

  “You are forgetting one thing, sir. Lady Bethany knows very well what has happened,” said Abby.

  Mr. Farnham turned it over in his mind. He shook his head. “I tend to doubt it, Miss Fairchilde. Otherwise, what point would there be to leaving a note for your brother-in-law? Surely Lady Bethany could as easily and better convey the news, rather than leaving it to the uncertainty of the discovery of a note! My dear Miss Fairchilde, I fear you have gotten yourself into quite an awkward predicament.”

  “What can you mean?” asked Abby with an assumption of bravery she was far from feeling. Cold had begun to seep into her.

  “Why, only this. I set out to run away with a respectable female, and now I have you,” said Mr. Farnham.

  “You cannot be serious! Why, it was Lady Bethany you wanted, not me!” exclaimed Abby.

  “True, Lady Bethany is an acknowledged beauty, and her portion is good enough. Though you cann
ot quite match her in looks, Miss Fairchilde, I believe I have heard you do possess quite a respectable portion. And I daresay your temper is undoubtedly more peaceable than Lady Bethany’s,” said Mr. Farnham reflectively. “All in all, I am quite satisfied with the way things have turned out.”

  “But you said you loved Lady Bethany!” exclaimed Abby, appalled by his cold-bloodedness.

  He laughed derisively. “Love? My dear Miss Fairchilde, surely you know that love has no place when a man must have funds! Oh, I played the devoted lover. It was a means to an end, you see. But you and I ... why, there was never a pretense of affection. Understanding this from the outset, I think we shall deal quite famously.”

  “What are you intending?” asked Abby in a tight voice. Fear had gripped her close, but she was determined not to let him know it. She drew the cloak closer about her. The heavy weight in her pocket bumped against her leg. She was suddenly reassured.

  “We are off to Gretna, my dear,” said Mr. Farnham, as though he was commenting on the weather rather than a clandestine, two-hundred mile journey. “I have a special license in my pocket. So fortunate! I shan’t have to make sure of you as I did Lady Bethany, for you have joined your fate to mine willingly.”

  “That I have not!” retorted Abby. She slid her hand into her pocket, and her fingers curled around the cold butt of the dueling pistol. “And do not come near me!”

  “Rest easy, Miss Fairchilde. I do not find ravishment particularly pleasant in a bounding chaise,” said Mr. Farnham soothingly. “There will be time for that later, I assure you.”

  “I shall kill you first,” said Abby in a small, trembling voice. Horror and fear alike affected her. She knew she ought to pull out the pistol, but she doubted her aim in such close, swaying confines. Besides, the thought of actually shooting someone made her feel quite ill. She didn’t know if she had the nerve.

  He laughed. “Such fire! I had always assumed you to be a mouse!” He said nothing more, but merely leaned back in his corner and closed his eyes. His attitude was one of utter boredom. A few minutes later, a snore proved he was treating the situation with palpable unconcern.

  Abby sat stiffly upright. She stole out a hand to test the door latch. It moved but reluctantly, as though rusty. Undoubtedly Mr. Farnham would hear it and would probably be able to stop her before she had time to hurl herself out of the carriage.

  In any event Abby did not care to think what might happen to her if she were successful in such a desperate endeavor. The chaise was bowling along at a rapid pace. She would be risking life and limb.

  Slowly, she came to the conclusion that her best opportunity of winning free was not in the middle of nowhere, but at the posting house where they must stop to change horses for the next lap of the journey. It was there that she must somehow escape Mr. Farnham and beg the help of any other patrons of the inn. Even if it meant shooting him first.

  However, Abby was not given the opportunity she so hoped for. Mr. Farnham did indeed stop to have a new team put to, but he merely yelled his instructions through the opened window. When he thrust shut the window, he said with a slight smile, “Forgive the inconvenience, Miss Fairchilde, but I do not believe it wise for us to set down just yet. I wish to put a good distance between us and London. After all, you did leave those damning notes, did you not?” He laughed quietly.

  Abby disregarded everything except his refusal to set down. “Am I not to be allowed refreshment, sir? I should like to wash the dust from my face and hands and have a warming cup of tea.”

  “In due time, Miss Fairchilde,” said Mr. Farnham inexorably as the chaise began moving again. “I suggest that you rest while you may. It is a long trip.”

  Hours later the chaise stopped again for a fresh team, and again Mr. Farnham refused to let her out of the chaise. In fact, he caught her arm and threw her back against the seat when she made as though to open the door.

  “Sir! Do we not breakfast or refresh ourselves?” asked Abby in some desperation. How was she to appeal for help when she was virtually imprisoned, she did not know. Her pitiful plan seemed now to be nothing more than a pipe dream.

  “In due time, Miss Fairchilde,” repeated Mr. Farnham.

  As the chaise sped on, Abby had ample time to berate herself for her stupidity. She cast a loathing glance at the somnolent Mr. Farnham, He had been right. She had been incredibly naive. She had thought Mr. Farnham was truly besotted of Lady Bethany. She had thought the threat of reprisal, through the offices of her brother-in-law, would have been enough to curb Mr. Farnham and he would have set her down. She had not counted on how alien Mr. Farnham’s mind was to ordinary persuasion. She had been brought to a realization of the full scope of her folly with his logic.

  She should have confided to Lord Darlington her guilt and her fears, or failing that, told her brother-in-law. When Abby visualized Mr. Crocker’s stolid countenance, she wished passionately she had done so. He would never have let her embark on this foolhardy attempt to rescue Lady Bethany Hart. Instead, he would probably have gone to Lord Darlington and left it to the marquess to handle matters as his lordship saw fit.

  What a fool she had been!

  The one ray of light in the whole mess was that she had left notes. If she failed in her own attempt to escape Mr. Farnham’s clutches, then there was still hope of rescue.

  At this thought her brother-in-law’s face did not come to mind. But Lord Darlington’s did. Abby wanted more than anything for Lord Darlington to come after her. He would not, of course. She had told him nothing and, even if she had, he would in all probability have left it to Mr. Crocker to rescue her from abduction. She had messed things up too badly with Lord Darlington for him to care any longer what became of her.

  Abby covered her eyes with her hands, trying to stem the tears that at last began to flow.

  It was then that there was a loud crack. The chaise lurched high and wide, tumbling in a slow macabre arch. Abby screamed as she was thrown violently over.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  At a highly unusual hour of the morning, Lord Darlington was astonished to receive his sister in the breakfast room. Lady Bethany rushed in, a single sheet clutched in her hand. She was obviously in great agitation, witnessed by her whitened face and the stricken look in her eyes. “Sylvan! I must speak with you, I must!” She swallowed a sob.

  Lord Darlington had instinctively risen to his feet, his protective side instantly on the alert. He threw down his napkin beside his unfinished plate and went around the end of the table to catch his sister’s hands in his own. “Now, what is toward, Bethany?”

  “Send the serving men away!” she exclaimed in a low voice.

  Lord Darlington at once snapped an order, and the serving men left the breakfast room. If he was not already convinced of his sister’s disturbed slate of mind, the fact that she craved privacy would have done so. Lady Bethany had never been one to pay much heed to what she said in front of servants.

  He placed a chair for her. “Sit down, Bethany, and tell me.”

  Lady Bethany sank into the chair, her body trembling. Her expression was horrified. “Sylvan, the most horrible thing has happened. But here, read it for yourself!” She thrust the sheet of paper at him.

  With a glance at her, Lord Darlington took the sheet. In a matter of seconds he made himself master of its contents, but when he looked up there was a questioning look in his eyes. “I do not understand.”

  “Is it not plain enough?” exclaimed Lady Bethany. “Abby has sacrificed herself for me. Oh, how wicked I am! I told her because I had to tell someone! But I never thought she would do this!” She pressed her hands against her cheeks and rocked a little. “Wicked, foolish! I made her promise to tell no one!”

  Lord Darlington was of no mind to allow his sister to fall into hysterics, as she seemed inclined to do. Sharply he asked, “Bethany, what does Abby mean when she says she intends to save you from Mr. Farnham? I thought that at an end.”

  Lady Bethany swiftly s
hook her head. “No, I disobeyed you, Sylvan! I—I continued to see him on the sly. Abby knew, a little, but not everything until I went to see her yesterday.” She gave a laugh that broke in the middle. “Abby begged me months ago to put an end to it. But I attended to her as little as I did you! And now see the upshot of it all! Abby is to be ruined and it is all my wretched fault.”

  “Not if I can help it,” said Lord Darlington grimly, crushing the missive in his fist. It sped through his mind – how his beloved had recently become uncomfortable with him, how her eyes would sometimes not meet his gaze – but now he understood. The quandary she had been placed in, the heavy burden she had borne. Fear for her iced his veins.

  His eyes bore into his sister’s. “Tell me why Abby would go to such lengths as to take your place in eloping with Farnham, Bethany. Tell me the truth!”

  Lady Bethany shuddered. “It is worse than you could imagine, Sylvan. You will hate me, but it is only what I deserve. Oh, Abby! Why didn’t I listen to you yesterday?”

  She burst into tears, but Lord Darlington had scant compassion. He stepped forward and shook her by the shoulders. “Bethany!” His fingers bit into her flesh. “What hold did Farnham have over you? Why did he believe you would run away with him?”

  “It happened at the Vauxhall masquerade,” gasped Lady Bethany, casting a frightened glance up at her brother’s face. “He—he—oh, I cannot say it! Sylvan, I am ruined!” Her face twisted, and she collapsed against her brother, crying bitterly.

  Lord Darlington held her, at once comprehending. Rage washed through him such as he had never known. “I shall kill him,” he breathed above his sister’s head. He put her gently from him, but still held her by the arms. “Listen to me, Lady Bethany. I am putting you into Mama’s care. You must tell her everything. Do you understand? Everything!”

  “I don’t know if I can,” whispered Lady Bethany, her face ravaged by tears and a dreadful shame.

  Lord Darlington gently ushered his shrinking sister toward the breakfast room door. “Come, I think you will discover Mama more understanding than you yet believe.”