She opened her eyes and turned to Phyllis.
“Fetch me some paper and a pen. I shall accept the Earl’s invitation to go to the White Hart Inn. Just like you, Phyllis, I feel certain that the Earl is a good man and that Papa would want me to be happy and enjoy myself.”
*
The next day Aurora tried several times to speak to her Papa, but his door remained firmly closed and his valet sent her away with a polite rebuff. He sent her his warm regards, but he was not well enough to receive her today.
Much to her relief Lady Hartnell kept a low profile as well and merely smiled at her coldly when they passed each other on the stairs.
Aurora and Phyllis took their meals in the bedroom and made their plans with great anticipation.
Phyllis spoke to a stable boy, who promised to get a pony and trap ready for them, as the Governess cart would be too recognisable.
In addition, cook handed her a bundle of old clothes. She had grown too large for all her Sunday best dresses, but had never been able to throw them away.
“She didn’t want to let them go, but I told her she should let me have them for charity for the poor folk in the village,” explained Phyllis, as she laid out a pile of brown and grey woollen dresses and knitted shawls on the carpet.
“Then when we have finished with them, we must make sure they are all given away just as you promised.”
Aurora held up one of the grey dresses on herself and burst out laughing,
“Why this is far too big for me. I’m sure the Earl is not expecting to dine with an elephant!”
Phyllis frowned and rummaged through the pile.
“Do try this one, miss, its colour is more lavender than grey and we can drape a shawl around you so no one will be able to see how loose the waist is on you.”
The sun was now beginning to set and darkness was creeping over the Park as the two of them completed their dressing.
Aurora became the perfect carter’s wife in a dark brown shawl tucked over the lavender dress, but even the addition of a large white cap to conceal her auburn hair could not hide the fact that under the heavy layers of clothing there was a young and attractive girl with a slim figure.
“Is it time to go?” Aurora asked, suddenly feeling nervous as she watched Phyllis putting on a white country woman’s cap and wrapping a big grey shawl round herself.
“Yes, indeed, miss, the trap will be waitin’ for us down in the stable yard.”
Aurora folded the Earl’s note and tucked it into the knot at the front of her shawl and the two of them crept down the narrow backstairs, used only by the servants, and made their way out through the scullery door.
The kitchen maids were all busy at the scullery sink preparing vegetables for dinner and Aurora felt a thrill of fear as one of them looked up and caught her eye.
Aurora quickly turned away and adjusted the folds of the heavy shawl around her shoulders, hoping that the big white cap had kept her face hidden and that the girl had not recognised her.
The air outside was fresh and cold as they hurried through into the stable yard.
She could see the breath from the pony harnessed to the trap hanging in the air like a cloud of steam.
“We should go right away,” said Aurora urgently, “I’m sure that girl knew who we were. What if she tells my stepmother’s footman?”
“Don’t worry, miss,” whispered Phyllis, “look, they have tied the little pony’s hooves in sackcloth, so no one will hear us when we leave.”
Aurora gathered up her skirts and was just about to climb into the trap when she heard a dog barking loudly.
As she turned to see what was happening, the stable yard was suddenly filled with swinging lantern lights and she heard shouts and running feet and louder barking.
“Quickly, Phyllis!” she cried, for she had caught a glimpse of a fair-headed young man in the flickering light, “I think they are on to us!”
Phyllis ran to join her, but fell to the ground as a large mastiff jumped at her and seized her arm in its jaws.
“Go on, Miss Aurora! Quickly!” she cried, twisting away from the dog as she tried to lift up her face from the cobblestones.
Aurora took the reins and tried to steer the trap out of the stable yard, but there, in the middle of the gateway, blocking her exit, was a tall silhouette dressed in full skirts and crowned with a feather.
It was Lady Hartnell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was no other way out of the stable yard.
Aurora was trapped.
Frank, the footman, ran up and grabbed Aurora by the arms, pulled her down from the pony trap and dragged her across the yard to where her stepmother stood waiting.
“So, who is this?” Lady Hartnell said imperiously. “Some kind of labourer’s wife? What can such a person be doing at this time of night upon our premises?”
She reached out for the big white cap that covered Aurora’s auburn curls and pulled it from her head.
“Ah, how interesting,” she smiled coldly. “Let’s see what your father has to say about this!”
Aurora looked round to see what was happening to Phyllis, as she could hear the big dog that had attacked her snarling and growling, but she was surrounded by a crowd of stable boys and was hidden from her view.
Lady Hartnell led the way to the front door of the house, her long skirts swishing over the gravel and Aurora followed behind shaking with fear.
What would Papa say?
How she wished that she had tried harder to speak to him!
She knew she should have told him the whole story about Lord Moreton’s shocking behaviour the previous night and her plan to meet with the Earl for dinner that night.
Papa had risen from his bed and was now seated in a chair at the foot of the stairs.
As soon as they entered the hall, he pulled himself to his feet holding out a piece of paper in his shaking hand.
“What can be the meaning of this?” he croaked, his voice choking with anger.
“Have you no shame at all? No sooner has my dear Charlotte informed me that you have regretted your callous attitude to Lord Moreton and agreed to accept him after all than you plot this wicked escapade behind my back!”
And he thrust the paper into her face.
It was the Earl’s letter.
Aurora felt the blood draining from her head as she realised that she must have dropped the Earl’s letter in the scullery when she was adjusting the folds of her shawl.
“Papa – there has been a – misunderstanding – ”
“Indeed there has. I have completely misunderstood you. Your untrustworthiness knows no bounds.”
Aurora saw with distress that his face was turning dark red and his whole body was trembling.
And it was all because of her.
Somehow she just had to find a way to make him comprehend what had really happened.
Stammering and blushing she tried hard to explain the sequence of events of the night before.
“I don’t need to hear any of this,” he exploded. “I have heard from Charlotte exactly what occurred last night and how you lured Lord Moreton into your room.”
“No, Papa! He tricked me and forced his way into my room. I haven’t agreed to marry him, that is the truth!”
“Listen to her,” snarled Lady Hartnell. “Now she is trying to tell us she has changed her mind again!”
“Perhaps I might have believed you,” he sighed, his voice suddenly weary. “Were it not for this – ”
He waved the letter at her again.
“Ah, yes!” Lady Hartnell smiled, “a young woman who will agree to meet a man in secret – and in disguise – is a young woman whose word can most definitely not be trusted.”
“That is indeed so.”
Lord Hartnell then lowered himself slowly into the chair again.
“Have you put in motion what we agreed, my dear Charlotte?”
He looked at Lady Hartnell.
“Indeed I have,�
�� she replied. “You, miss, had better go to your room and pack your things. You are going to be sent away for a spell.”
“Where?” cried Aurora, feeling cold with shock.
“A place where you can be kept quiet and out of the way until you are safely married,” added Lady Hartnell.
“But where is Phyllis?” demanded Aurora, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “I will need her to help me pack and she must go with me, of course, I cannot manage – without her.”
“I have given orders for her to be locked up in the cellar to reflect on her bad behaviour,” said Lady Hartnell.
“But none of this is in any way Phyllis’s fault. It’s most unfair.”
Lord Hartnell was struggling onto his feet again.
“It may well be that the maid has been corrupted by my daughter,” he declared, shaking his head sadly. “But Phyllis looked after my former wife and has always been a servant of excellent character. Let her out from the cellar, Charlotte, and send them both away together. I don’t want either of them under my roof anymore.”
He turned and began to climb up the stairs slowly, pulling himself up by the banisters.
Lady Hartnell followed and took hold of his elbow, impatiently trying to hurry him along.
Aurora watched them with tears running down her face until she heard a commotion behind her in the hall.
“There ain’t no need to shove me around like that,” came a pert West Country voice. “I’ve a pair of legs and I’m well able to walk!”
It was Phyllis.
Frank had her by the arm and was pushing her into the hall. Aurora was horrified to see that Phyllis’s sleeve was torn and ragged and her dress wet and dirty.
“Are you all right?” she asked, hastily wiping her face so that Phyllis should not see she had been crying.
“I am sorely bruised, miss, where that mastiff took hold of me and likely to be more bruised, if this young dog will not leave go!”
She scowled fiercely at Frank.
“What will become of me?” whispered Aurora, as they crept up the stairs with Frank following close at their heels.
“I don’t know, miss,” responded Phyllis. “We must pack our bags and hope for the best, that’s all I can say.”
Aurora could not put her mind to packing at all and Phyllis ran round the bedroom opening up endless drawers and wardrobes and flinging garments into a couple of large holdalls, while her Mistress sat on her bed, trying hard to control her racing thoughts.
What would the Earl think of her, when she did not appear at the inn?
Aurora felt her eyes filling with tears again as she thought of him waiting for her in the private dining room at the White Hart Inn, and pictured the expression in his eyes as he looked up and saw her walking through the door.
The picture was so real that for a minute she forgot her desperate situation.
‘Why am I not frantically worried over what is now going to happen to me?’ she asked herself. ‘Why can I only think about the Earl, this man I hardly know and may never see again?’
Suddenly the door was pushed open abruptly and Lady Hartnell entered, a cynical smile on her face.
“Come, miss,” she sneered. “Your carriage awaits you. Why, what a fright you look!”
Aurora was still wearing cook’s dress and shawl, but she did not care how she might appear.
She allowed herself to be led back down the stairs, and out of the front door, Phyllis following behind with the heavy holdalls.
A closed carriage with the blinds pulled down was outside the front door drawn by two excited horses, which were tossing their heads and pawing the gravel.
Numb to everything, Aurora allowed Lady Hartnell to push her through the door of the carriage.
She fell onto the leather seat, landing awkwardly against the bulky body of someone sitting inside.
A strong odour of cigars stung Aurora’s nose.
It could only be Lord Moreton.
Lady Hartnell slammed the carriage door and then tapped on the window.
Lord Moreton leaned across and lifted the blind.
“Robert. There can be no further obstacles to our plan.”
Her voice was somewhat muffled by the glass.
“Success is ours, if you keep your nerve.”
Lord Moreton uttered a squeaking laugh and let the blind drop, as he turned his attention to his passenger.
Aurora had no time to cry out in protest before she felt the carriage rocking violently.
They were on their way.
“So,” lisped Lord Moreton, as he pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket. “I have you at last!”
“You cannot do this,” Aurora stammered. “I do not – consent to go – with you.”
“You will come to no harm, my dear,” he hissed, snipping the end off his cigar and lighting it. “You will be very safe at Elton Manor, until such time as we are married.”
“I will never marry you!” cried Aurora, choking, as Lord Moreton breathed a cloud of thick cigar smoke at her.
Desperate for air, she seized the leather strap of the carriage window and pulled it down.
Lord Moreton’s heavy body bore down upon her as he leaned across to pull up the window again and Aurora shuddered as she felt his hands gripping her shoulders.
He pressed her down to the floor, and, gripping the cigar between his teeth, he pulled the emerald necklace out of his pocket and fastened it roughly round her neck.
Aurora twisted and turned, desperate to free herself, and managed to catch Lord Moreton in the belly with the point of her elbow.
He shouted out as he writhed in pain and, as they struggled together, Aurora felt the red-hot tip of his cigar brush her neck.
She screamed in agony from the burn, and then she and her attacker fell onto the floor, crushed into the small space between the seats.
The carriage was swinging from side to side, so that first Lord Moreton and then Aurora were thrown against the doors.
Aurora screamed again, and very faintly, from the coachman’s seat above, she heard Phyllis’s voice calling her name.
Suddenly the carriage lurched to an abrupt halt.
Aurora heard the shrill neighing of a horse and then there was a splintering crash and she found herself lying on top of Lord Moreton as the carriage then tipped over onto its side.
There was a gust of cold damp air and a spatter of raindrops in her face as the door opened.
“Quick, Miss Aurora!” called out Phyllis. “Get out now!”
She scrambled to her feet, cringing as she felt her boots trampling over Lord Moreton’s flesh and then hauled herself out of the door.
As she emerged from the carriage door, it was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water in her face.
“My goodness, it’s pouring,” she gasped, wrapping the woollen shawl around her head.
“Yes, Miss Aurora. Never mind that now. Get out quickly while you can. We’ve been held up!”
Phyllis caught her Mistress’s hands to steady her.
As Aurora stepped down from the carriage and onto the ground, she saw in the flickering light from the carriage lantern, two horsemen across the road ahead, both mounted on big carthorses and wearing thick rough cloaks.
“Ho!” a man’s voice called out loudly. “We have a damsel in distress!”
Aurora clutched at Phyllis’s hand, shivering in the cold rain.
“What is going on? Are we to be abducted again?”
The taller of the two horsemen dug his heels into the sides of his mount and approached them.
His face was smeared with dirt and as he swept his broad-brimmed hat off in a mock salute, the rain plastered his wild dark hair flat against his head.
“May I be of service to you, ladies?” he said. “For your carriage, I fear, is wrecked!”
Aurora looked round and saw that the vehicle was indeed badly damaged, as it lay on its side in the ditch, with the coach horses struggling to regain their feet in the stick
y mud as the coachman pulled at their tangled reins.
“I think they mean us no harm,” muttered Phyllis, as she looked anxiously at the two mysterious horsemen in the road.
But no sooner had she spoken than there was a roar of wild rage from the shattered carriage and Lord Moreton emerged, arms waving like a windmill.
Aurora backed away from him at once and then she realised that she was standing right by the stirrup of the tall man who had held up their carriage.
She was caught just there in the middle of the road between the two of them.
“Just what in the name of hell is going on?” Lord Moreton blustered, gesticulating at the horsemen. “Who are you, and how dare you interrupt our journey like this! Look what you have done to my carriage.”
“Sir,” answered the taller man in a country accent, “it’s a very dark night and the road is slippery. As we came round the bend your horses took fright and tipped you into the ditch. It was plain bad luck, sir, and no fault of ours.”
“That’s as maybe,” growled Lord Moreton, “but I will see that you pay for this, you blackguards. You have no business to be terrorising innocent travellers.”
“Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir?” the tall man retorted. “Look to your ladies – would you leave them standing in the road on a night like this?”
He swung his horse around and reached down to Aurora, holding out his hand to her.
“Come on sweetheart,” he called down. “Jump up behind me and I will soon have you safe and warm.”
Something in his voice made Aurora shiver.
He sounded strangely familiar to her in spite of his odd accent.
She looked at the heavy rain-spattered leather glove he was wearing and suddenly she wanted to reach out and grasp his hand, letting him swing her up behind him on his sturdy horse.
“My fiancée is not a concern of yours, you devil,” Lord Moreton hissed. “Get back over here, you minx!”
And he lurched across the road to try and grab her.
Aurora sprang away from him, clutching the shawl, which was now soaking wet, around herself.
“You let her be!” shouted the horseman. “She wants none of you, it’s clear.”
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