A Commercial Enterprise

by Sandra Heath

  The moments of shocked silence passed on leaden feet, and Marcia managed to squeeze remorseful tears which coursed wretchedly down her cheeks as she turned to apologize to Jennifer for having been the unwitting cause of the feast’s ruination. But it was this final touch that was to prove her undoing, for as she turned, she dislodged her reticule from the edge of the table and it fell to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere. There, among the trinkets and scent phials, lay several more cockroaches.

  The guests who were close enough to see gave shocked gasps, and Marcia’s face drained of color as she hastily bent to push the guilty items back into the reticule. She was forestalled, however, for Hal was the more agile, picking everything up and dropping it coldly and pointedly upon the tablecloth before her.

  “Your belongings, I believe, madam,” he said softly, his eyes filled with disgust.

  Marcia couldn’t speak; she cast around desperately for a friendly face, but by now everyone was aware of what she had done. A sea of offended, appalled faces looked back at her. Even her brother could not ally himself with her, deliberately keeping his gaze lowered to his plate. At last Marcia’s haunted eyes returned to Hal, but she saw that she had lost him forever. With a stifled sob, she gathered her skirts and ran from the room, the sound of her footsteps carrying clearly to them all as she fled to the outer doors.

  Immediately a buzz of comment broke out, turning as much upon Hal’s conduct as upon Marcia’s, for he did not appear to be in any way upset that the woman who was to have been his bride should have stooped to such a detestable trick, and at his beloved sister’s wedding!

  A great many interested glances followed him now as he swept the reticule onto a plate and beckoned to a waiter, who immediately spirited it away. Hal then turned to Caroline, who had been standing close by all the while, and with a smile he raised her hand gallantly to his lips, which gesture met with much approbation from the assembly.

  Jennifer and Lord Carstairs were all smiles again and the feast proceeded, the conversation dwelling almost solely on the intriguing subject of Marcia’s dreadful behavior and Hal’s reaction to it. Lord Fynehurst remained uncomfortably where he was for as long as he could, but in the end he uneasily took his leave, only too conscious that the ignominy touching his sister’s name was inevitably touching his own, for the guests knew him well enough to realize that he had probably been fully aware of what she planned to do.

  Caroline retreated to her position beneath the colonnade, endeavoring to look calm and unconcerned, but in reality feeling the very opposite. If it had not been for the accidental knocking to the floor of the reticule, Marcia’s cunning trick would have worked, the wedding feast would have been disrupted beyond redemption, the reputation of the new Lexham Hotel would have suffered irreparable harm, and the odium would in the end have fallen upon Caroline herself. She trembled a little with delayed shock, hardly realizing that she had not only witnessed the biter being bitten, but also the severing of Marcia’s relationship with Hal.

  Mrs. Hollingsworth, as soothing and reliable as ever, appeared as if by magic at her side, pressing a glass of champagne into her hand. “It’s all over now, my dear, and she didn’t succeed in her wickedness. Smile now and drink this, and think only that in spite of her efforts, this wedding celebration has been a wonderful success.”

  Caroline smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Hollingsworth, there are times when I truly do not know what I would do without you.”

  The housekeeper gently patted her arm and then slipped away to the kitchens once more.

  Jennifer was much relieved that from imminent disaster, the feast was now proceeding excellently once more, and she now took the opportunity of quizzing her brother as he took his place beside her once more. “Hal, you do not appear to be much put out by what Marcia did.”

  “That depends upon what you mean by put out. If you mean angry, then I do not appear to be gripped by rage because I am doing all in my power to hide it. If she had been a man, I would call her out for what she did. On the other hand, if by ‘put out’ you mean heartbroken, then that is because I am not.”

  “But I thought—”

  “You thought incorrectly, my dear sister, as indeed did Marcia herself. I may for a brief while have entertained a notion of marrying her, but my sojourn at Petwell soon relieved me of that foolishness. Marcia may be an excellent bedfellow, but she would make a tyrannical wife!”

  “Hal!” cried his shocked sister. “Don’t be so improper!”

  “I have only provided you with a fact you have been itching to know for some time,” he replied infuriatingly.

  She flushed. “Well, I admit that I did wonder if she was your mistress.”

  “Now you know.”

  “You might at least have admitted earlier that you weren’t intending to marry her, for I’ve been worrying so about you,” she scolded. “I knew she would make you unhappy!”

  “If I had told you, Jennifer, you would not have believed me.”

  “That is your own fault, for you have too frequently in the recent past deliberately told me untruths or simply omitted to tell me things altogether.”

  “My sins are evidently legion,” he remarked dryly, smiling at her.

  “They certainly are.” Jennifer lowered her eyes for a moment. “Hal, Marcia did that dreadful thing today in order to hurt Caroline, which means that she was jealous of Caroline. Do you agree?”

  His smile revealed nothing. “To agree would suggest that I am au fait with the workings of the female mind, which I am not. Now then, are you going to be a good little thing and eat up your dinner, or must I spoon-feed you?”

  She studied his face for a moment and then accepted that he was not going to be any more forthcoming. “You attempt to spoon-feed me, Henry Seymour, and I’ll kick you on the shins, as I remember doing when you were a beastly little boy.”

  For another hour or more after that the feast continued, but then it was time for the bride and groom to prepare to leave on the first part of their lengthy journey to Venice. They were to stay at some undisclosed address in Kent on their first night, crossing to France from Dover on the next morning’s tide. Walking with her husband on one side and her brother on the other, and followed by the twelve bridesmaids, Jennifer left the dining room to go up to her apartment to change.

  Hal did not accompany them up the grand staircase, but waited at the foot of the steps until the bridal party had passed from his sight, then he turned to go back to the feast, but instead found himself face-to-face with an old friend from his school days.

  “Digby! How good it is to see you again! I caught a glimpse of you earlier on and could hardly believe my eyes! How did you contrive to get yourself invited, you old reprobate?”

  The other smiled. “By nefarious means, how else?” He was a tall, blond man, dressed in unrelieved black, and his rather aquiline nose had become red as the evening wore on and he enjoyed more and more of the excellent champagne.

  “I believe I must congratulate you upon this evening’s celebrations. I’ll warrant this particular wedding will be very much the thing for some time to come.”

  “My sister sincerely hopes so,” replied Hal, grinning. “But I cannot take the credit for any of the arrangements. That must go entirely to Miss Lexham.”

  “Ah, yes, the intriguing Miss Lexham. What a beauty, eh? By Gad, I can understand Marcia Chaddington’s green-eyed jealousy. Quite an armful, eh, Seymour?”

  Hal’s smile faded just a little. “Don’t tread further along that particular path, my friend, for you are entirely wrong.”

  “You mean, there ain’t anything between you and the beauteous chatelaine?” The other could not conceal his surprise.

  “Nothing whatever.”

  “Well, damn me, if that don’t stagger me! One thing’s for sure, though, and that is that Marcia certainly thought there was.”

  “Possibly.”

  “You’re very reticent about the whole thing, if you don’t mind my sayin
g so.”

  “Perhaps that is because I don’t consider it to be any of your business-—old friend.”

  Digby pursed his lips. “Don’t get on your high horse, I don’t mean any harm. Besides, perhaps it’s as well you are not interested in the lady of the house, for from all accounts there’s another with a rather surprising involvement.”

  “Another?”

  Digby nodded, glancing across the crowded vestibule to the doorway, where Caroline was saying farewell to several guests who had to depart rather earlier than expected. “Yes,” he murmured, “I am told that there was a very pretty scene outside first thing this morning, a fond farewell between Lexham and Lexham.”

  Hal’s face was very still. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I confess to being surprised that Marcia Chaddington attempted anything to harm Miss Lexham, for from all accounts until very recently the likely perpetrator of such a trick would have been the Earl of Lexham. Now it seems that Lexham and his lovely cousin are far from at odds with one another.”

  “Digby, if you don’t come to the point, I swear I will wring your scrawny neck!”

  “All right, dear boy, have patience. It seems that the two were seen embracing, and enjoying a kiss which was far from being a cousinly peck on the cheek. Far from it. That would be a turn-up, would it not? After all the furor caused by the will, Lexham does a complete turnabout and falls in love with the lady!”

  Hal did not reply for a moment, but his eyes narrowed a little as he glanced at Caroline’s smiling face as she moved among the guests. “Yes,” he murmured, “it would indeed be a turnabout.”

  “Still,” said Digby, smiling a sleek smile, “it is of no concern to you, is it?”

  “None whatever.”

  “By the way, no doubt you’ve been too preoccupied today to have heard the latest news from Paris.”

  “News?”

  “It seems they’ve caught the assassin—a fellow named Cantillon. They don’t know anything more from him, however, for he’s keeping a still tongue in his head. They reckon that this means he still has accomplices on the loose.”

  “Probably.” Hal’s expression was thoughtful.

  “Ah, I see old Fennimore over there. I must have a word with him. Good-bye, Hal.”

  “Good-bye, Digby.”

  At that moment Gaspard Duvall made an appearance among the guests, a number of them having sent requests to the kitchens. He was greatly applauded and congratulated upon having prepared the most sumptuous of wedding feasts, and his bright eyes danced with pleasure and pride. Hal watched him, his face still unsmiling and pensive.

  Caroline found herself at his side. “Is something wrong, Sir Henry?” she inquired, seeing his stern expression.

  “Wrong, Miss Lexham?” he replied coldly. “Why, nothing at all.”

  “Sir Henry?” She was shaken by the change in him. He was almost a stranger, and there was no warmth in him at all.

  “You must excuse me, madam, if I find it hard to accept that you would not only be so foolish and misguided, but also so brazen and improper as to indulge in fond and intimate embraces with your cousin in public!” With a stiff nod of his head, he left her.

  Stunned, she remained where she was.

  She did not see him again to speak to throughout the evening. The bride and groom departed in their white landau, waved off by their happy friends and relatives, and after that the gathering began to thin. The celebrations continued until well into the night, and it was two in the morning before Caroline could at last take herself wearily to her bed.

  There she found that before going away, Jennifer had stolen into her apartment and left a little piece of the wedding cake, together with a traditional little verse, written in her own hand.

  But, madam, as a present take

  This little portion of bride-cake;

  Fast any Friday in the year,

  When Venus mounts the starry sphere,

  Thrust this at night beneath pillow clear;

  In morning slumber you will seem

  To enjoy your lover in a dream.

  Slowly her fingers closed over the paper, crumpling it, and she closed her eyes as the hot tears of misery and renewed heartbreak stung her lids.

  She cried herself to sleep, curled up in the vast bed, her face hidden even from the darkness.

  Chapter 27

  The rough hand closed over her mouth in the faint gray light of dawn. Terrified she struggled, but his strength was too great and he merely tightened his grip, his uncouth fingers digging painfully into her flesh.

  “Be still, wench, or it’ll be the worse for you!” His voice was unrefined and his breath smelled of ale. She knew that he meant the threat and she lay still, her eyes huge with fear as she stared up at him.

  The dawn was but minutes old and the light so muted that he was barely discernible. He was dirty and unshaven, wearing a battered boxcoat and wide-brimmed hat pulled low on his forehead. As she watched, he turned to jerk his head at someone she could not see. “Got the letter, Ben?”

  “ ‘Course I’ve got the ruddy letter!” growled the other, his voice as coarse as the first man’s. “Where’s it to be put?”

  “Shove it on the mantel shelf, and be quick about it!” She was aware of a shadowy figure moving silently across the room, just on the edge of her vision. It stretched up and left something small, oblong, and white against a candlestick. Her captor returned his attention to her then, shaking her a little to show that he meant business.

  “Now then, my pretty, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come with us nice and quiet. One squeak, and it’ll be the last sound you ever make. Got me?”

  Still terrified, she nodded her head. Slowly he removed his hand, jerking his head again to indicate that she had to get out of the bed. His eyes rested leeringly on her bare legs, and she sought in vain to conceal them with the folds of her nightgown.

  “Don’t worry, my lovely,” he said coarsely. “It ain’t for the likes of Ben and me to gaze upon you. It’s for a certain gentleman to do that.”

  “Gentleman?”

  In reply he reached forward, and even in the half-light, she saw the glint of a metal blade. The knife pressed against her throat.

  “I said no sound, sweetheart, and that means no questions either. Here, get this shawl around you and then come quietly; we don’t want to wake anyone from their beauty sleep now, do we?” The blade’s tip pressed a little more against her skin and then was removed.

  With a trembling hand, she took the proffered shawl, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. He pushed her roughly toward the door and she stumbled a little, crying out. With an oath he seized her, twisting one arm up sharply behind her back.

  “I’ll break every bone in your lily-white body if you open your mouth again!” he breathed, keeping his grip upon her and nodding at Ben, who softly opened the door and slipped out into the dark, deserted vestibule.

  The painful twist of her arm brought tears to her eyes as she was propelled across the cold, tiled floor, her bare feet soft and silent. The dark light robbed the wedding flowers and garlands of their color and made the white ribbon knots pinned to the sofas look ghostly.

  Gone now was the joyous atmosphere of the marriage celebrations, and instead her fear lent a menace to even the most homely of items. The arches leading to the inner vestibule appeared to open onto a mysterious unknown, the statues in the wall niches seemed to move just a little, and the crystal droplets of the chandeliers jingled very softly in the draft of cold air sweeping in from the open front door.

  She wanted to scream out for help, but she was too afraid. She did not know who was abducting her or why they were doing it; she did not know who the unknown gentleman was to whom they were evidently taking her. As she was pushed out into the cold March dawn, she looked desperately back at the shadowy vestibule, willing someone to appear and see what was happening, but no one did.

  Tendrils of mist rose from the cobbles where an unmarke
d carriage stood waiting at the foot of the steps. Its blinds were down, its wheels were muffled, and the team’s hooves were wrapped in sacking. It had not made a sound as it arrived, and it would not make a sound when it left again....

  Her legs felt suddenly weak as she was half dragged down the steps to the carriage, and she struggled as the door swung silently open to admit her. Sensing that she was about to scream in spite of her fear, her assailant swiftly put his dirty hand over her mouth again, heaving her bodily up into the carriage, where other hands caught her.

  Another man’s hand was put over her mouth, a softer hand with several rings upon its fingers. Desperately she squirmed and wriggled, and she was only vaguely aware of her new captor’s sudden gasp and the loosening of his grip upon her. Shaken, but alert enough to seize her opportunity, she twisted wildly away from him, scrambling to the doorway and out of the carriage, tumbling helplessly onto the cold, damp cobbles, where she lay for a moment, winded. Almost in tears, she waited for rough hands to seize her once more, but when someone touched her, it was with gentle concern.

  “Are you all right, Caro?”

  An overwhelming surge of relief swept weakeningly over her as she gazed up into Hal’s eyes as he crouched momentarily beside her. She could only nod, watching as he straightened once more, and it was then that she saw he had a pistol in his hand and was leveling it at the occupant of the carriage. There was no sign of the two men who had abducted her, and she was vaguely aware of their footsteps as they fled into the murky dawn.

  The barrel of the pistol motioned to whoever was in the carriage to climb down, and she got slowly to her feet, staring as Dominic reluctantly alighted. He did not even glance at her, his attention was fully upon Hal, whose eyes were as cold and hard as flint.