The Other Miss Derwent

by Patricia M. Ashley

  “Marry! Who.. . .who do you mean to marry?”

  He laughed complacently. “A pretty, innocent young girl, and well-born.”

  “I was pretty enough once, or so you said! And innocent, until it was my misfortune to catch the attention of such a heartless libertine as you!”

  He picked up his gloves and cane and turned to go, and she flung herself to the floor and clung to his legs weeping passionately.

  “Oh, do not leave me! Oh, what will become of me, if you forsake me?”

  He looked down at her with distaste. “If you will look on the table you will find a sum of money: you can stay here as long as it lasts, or go back to your father, as you wish.”

  She raised a face blotched with tears. “My father would not take me back now! Besides...... I had meant to have told you today: I am with child!”

  His face remained impassive. She stared at him in mingled hope and despair. “Monty, do you not understand? I am to have your child!”

  “So you have said,” he drawled. He thrust her away with one gleaming hessian boot, and she fell to the floor weeping hysterically.

  “My advice to you, if you will not go home, is to find another lover before your belly impedes your search! And now I really must wish you farewell, my dear Kitty!”

  She made another attempt to plead with him but he avoided her outstretched hands adroitly, and left the room.

  When the last echo of his footsteps had died away on the stairs she dragged herself to the bed and sat on the edge of it, clasping her abdomen and rocking to and fro in an ecstasy of anguish.

  And deep inside, her betrayed love was changing slowly to hatred.

  * * * *

  Once he was outside the dingy lodging house Sir Montagu succeeded in completely dismissing from his mind the desperate girl he had just left behind.

  Kitty had become increasingly importunate of late upon the subject of marriage. Besides, now that she had lost her fresh country looks he was no longer very interested in her.

  And, most compelling reason of all for his dismissal, ever since he set eyes on Anastasia Derwent he found himself comparing all other women to her, and finding them wanting.

  Anastasia! He wondered how he could ever have settled on the insipid Louisa.

  Of course, once he had come into property and decided to marry, it had proved surprisingly difficult to find a girl of both birth and dowry.

  He had the entree almost everywhere...... but still, unfortunate rumours of his more unsavoury pursuits somehow circulated, and parents with marriageable daughters were not encouraging.

  He had found Louisa Derwent eminently suitable. She was pretty enough, and disposed to have a flattering readiness to receive his addresses. And he discovered, upon careful enquiry, that her marriage portion was respectable, and secured to her beyond the reach of her father.

  Since he had an interest in a certain gaming hell patronised by Sir James, he had a pretty fair idea of the pass into which excessive gaming had brought him.

  He sounded out Sir James, and discovered that they could reach an agreement, if he married Louisa, which would be of financial benefit to both of them.

  And then, when he had actually gone down to Derwent Place with the intention of proposing to her, he had seen Anastasia coming down the stairs and received a leveller.

  That very day he had informed his host that he wished to marry Anastasia instead.

  Sir James had remonstrated. The girl was hardly old enough – barely emerged from the schoolroom! And besides, her dowry was only five thousand pounds.

  But although until that day Sir Montagu had been set on marrying a girl both pretty and with a sizeable dowry, it was not actually necessary for him to do so, and he found to his own surprise that he did not care if Anastasia came to him with nothing.

  He wanted her, and since the only way he would have her was to marry her, marry her he would.

  Sir James had eventually resigned himself to the change, once he understood that Sir Montagu would change their arrangement so that he did not lose by it; but he stipulated that the betrothal should not be announced until after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday.

  The girl herself had proved surprisingly recalcitrant, but Sir James had assured him that she could be brought to heel...

  Before the beginning of the season he was to return to Derwent Place and propose in form for her hand.

  Well, tomorrow was the date set for the visit, and he longed to see her again. When he had tried to kiss her, how she had flushed and her green eyes had sparkled! There was a fire there to match the flame of her hair, if he was not mistaken. .. .

  He crossed the road in a reverie, narrowly missing being run down by a hack, and walked down Brook Street towards his lodgings.

  That Anastasia herself might not want to marry him did not deserve serious consideration. He had always been a success with the ladies, and was quite sure that, given some time with her to change her mind, she would soon be as eager as the rest.

  And if she was a little nervous of him... well, a touch of fear lent a spice of excitement to the affair.

  He swung his cane jauntily, and ran quickly up the stairs.

  Chapter Eight

  Several hours after Anastasia had started out upon her journey Louisa awoke with a start to find herself lying partly dressed upon her bed, her candle dead in a pool of wax beside her.

  Stiffly she began to move, and then sat bolt upright in excitement as she remembered why she was not in her bed; for last night she had followed Anastasia through the dark house and into the garden, where she had met with a young man whose pale blonde hair proclaimed him to be Robin Carstares.

  Her eyes gleamed maliciously as she thought of the tale she would have to tell to her parents!

  Her suspicions, sharpened by jealous hatred, had awoken two nights ago at finding Anastasia’s room empty long after she had retired with a headache. She had gone there to taunt her about Sir Montagu’s proposal, and waited for a few minutes wondering where she could be.

  Then she had looked out of the window and seen two dark figures in the garden. Even as she watched they had parted, one running towards the house and the other vanishing into the darkness.

  Hearing the slight sounds betokening Anastasia’s return she had quickly returned to her own room, but resolved to watch Anastasia closely next night to see whom she was meeting with such secrecy. She was quite sure it was a man, but who?

  That it should be Mr Carstares came as no very great surprise to her, since she knew them to be as thick as inkle-weavers. But still, to think of telling Mama and Papa of Anastasia’s leaving the house in the dead of night to keep an assignation with a man!

  Why, if it became known she would lose her reputation entirely! There would be no marriage for her then, she thought jealously, for she would be ruined! Sir Montagu would certainly not marry someone without a reputation.

  Unfortunately, she had not been able to creep close enough to the pair to overhear what they were saying last night, for she had been nervous of the dark garden, but she had seen enough and soon retired to the safety of her room.

  She had lain gloating on her bed waiting for Anastasia’s return, but instead had fallen asleep.

  She stretched and yawned, then dressed despite the earliness of the hour, summoning her startled maid.

  Then she went to Anastasia’s room and tapped quietly upon the door. She did not see why she should not have the pleasure of taunting her a little before finally laying the matter before her parents!

  There was no answer. Impatiently she twisted the doorknob and walked briskly into the room.

  It was empty. The counterpane was drawn smoothly over the bed, which had obviously not been slept in. Over the end of the bed were thrown the clothes that Anastasia had worn before.

  Louisa gazed blankly about the room. Her nose twitched. There was a strong smell of – yes, burnt hair! She crossed to the grate and poked among the cinders. A half-charred mass lay revealed,
one tiny unburnt curl gleaming redly.

  Turning quickly she ran out of the room and down the stairs. “Papa! Papa!” she shrieked, and was in time to collide with him as he crossed the hall towards the breakfast-room.

  “My dear Louisa! Must you rush about the house in this fashion? What is the matter?”

  Her face was pale with excitement. “Oh Papa! It is Anastasia — she is not in her room, and her bed has not been slept in, and ..... and besides that, last night I saw her meeting a man in the shrub......”

  “Stop!” he commanded, looking about him hastily. A maid crossed the hall towards the kitchen wing. He took his daughter’s arm and pulled her into the study, shutting the door behind them.

  “Now, what is this rigmarole? Anastasia not in her room? Well, well – I suppose she may have got up! We are not all such slug-a-beds as you!”

  “Got up! Yes, she got up, all right!” giggled Louisa half hysterically, “In the middle of the night to meet Robin Carstares!”

  His naturally ruddy face attained a purplish colour. “What is this you say? Is it true? Why did you not wake me?”

  “I meant to, Papa,” she raised innocent blue eyes to his face, “But I thought I ought to wait until my Aunt was safely in the house again before I did so, and then – I fell asleep before she came. She was a long time in coming in!”

  “A long time coming in!” he repeated thickly. “I will give her ‘a long time coming in’ when I see her!”

  “But where do you think she is, Papa? Oh!” She clasped her hands together in excitement. “Do you think they can have eloped?”

  “Eloped? Why in hell’s name should she?”

  “If she was in love with Mr Carstares, and then you told her she must marry Sir Montagu, she might have decided to elope.”

  “Fiddle-faddle! Utter nonsense! I’ve never seen any sign between them of anything beyond friendship. Besides, I don’t say it’s what I want, but I could have no real objection to a marriage between them! The Carstares are an old family, and he the only son.”

  “Mrs Carstares would not have liked it, though,” pointed out Louisa. “She would not think anyone less than the Princess Royal good enough for her son!”

  “Aye, true enough. But damn me, the boy is less than a year from his majority, and may then do as he likes! No, perhaps we are being hasty.”

  “I don’t see why else she should be meeting him so secretly,” she objected.

  “Well, we will see when I have found her. Perhaps she has just gone out for an early ride, or she may be somewhere about the house.”

  “I tell you her bed has not been slept in!” cried Louisa. “And there is another strange thing – there is a lot of hair in the grate, burnt!”

  “Hair in the grate? Pshaw!” he said dismissively. He puffed out his cheeks, still purplish from rage, and then exhaled slowly. “We must take it quietly – must not make a fuss until we know what is what. The first thing is to find out if she is still here.” He pulled the bell-rope.

  To the servant who came he commanded: “Have Lady Derwent informed that I wish to see her here at her earliest convenience. And see if you can find Miss Anastasia about the house or grounds, for I wish to speak to her.”

  The servant left the room. Louisa hardly waited until the door had closed behind him before bouncing into speech again.

  “I am sure it is of no use to look: she has gone! Ought you not to set out after them right away?”

  “Pah! Set out on a wild-goose chase to the Border when we are not even sure that they are gone? And I am convinced that they are not. We will soon get to the bottom of this mystery.” He made for the door.

  “I am going back to my breakfast. We can do nothing until we see whether the servants can find her.”

  But it was the butler, Badson, who came in to tell his master that there was no sign of Miss Anastasia in the house or grounds. “And her maid says that Miss Anastasia’s bed has not been slept in, and that a small valise and a quantity of clothes are missing from her room, Sir,” he added impassively.

  Sir James glowered at him. “Understand this, Badson: Miss Anastasia has been called away urgently to her...to her Aunt! I do not want any lying tales flying round the district. Do you understand me?”

  He bowed, no trace of emotion on his face. “Yes indeed, Sir, I will do what I can.”

  He left the room and Sir James sank back, mopping his brow with a large cambric handkerchief. “She really has gone then,” he muttered.

  His wife swept in demanding to know the reason for her summons, and was regaled with the story. Her high-nosed face took on an even more haughty cast.

  “Eloped! – well, it is just what I would expect of her. Her Mama was a Winton, and I have never heard any good of that family!”

  “She is my half-sister,” he pointed out coldly, “And a scandal would rebound upon all our heads, especially Louisa at this stage of the proceedings with Lord Silverfield.”

  “Quite true – it must be hushed up.” She thought for a moment, and then looked interrogatively at her daughter. “You are quite sure of its being Robin Carstares she was meeting? Was it not too dark to be sure?”

  “No, Mama. It was quite dark, of course, but his hair is so fair there is no mistaking him.”

  “Well then. Sir James, you must send to the Carstares and enquire whether he is missing too! If he is, the conclusion is obvious and we must meet with Mrs Carstares to discuss what is to be done,” she said decisively. “But if he should still be there, he must be summoned here to give an explanation of his conduct, and to see if he can throw any light on her present whereabouts.”

  “I shall do so at once, my dear,” he promised, rising from the table. “At once!” And he hurried away to his study to write the letter.

  Lady Maria went upstairs to see for herself the empty bedroom, and was as much struck as her daughter with the burnt hair in the grate.

  “Why Louisa, she must have cut off all her hair! Why should she do such a thing?”

  “Perhaps she has run mad, and is even now roaming the countryside, like... like Ophelia!” said Louisa hopefully.

  “Do not be so stupid! Why, she would be recognised immediately, and brought straight back to us! Send for her maid so that we may know what clothes are missing.”

  The maid, flushed with excitement and curiosity, informed them that Miss Anastasia had taken only a very few things: “And very odd things, too!”

  “Odd things? What do you mean, girl?” demanded Lady Derwent.

  “She has taken no outdoor things at all, only one muslin dress and the silk sandals that go with it, and one or two other small things – handkerchiefs and such. And no hat!”

  “No hat! – very well, you may leave us!”

  As the door closed behind her Louisa said excitedly: “Do you think that she changed her dress and went out to meet her lover, and then was abducted?”

  “Really, Louisa! – that any daughter of mine should be so indelicate! I am heartily displeased with you over your conduct in not reporting Anastasia’s absence to me immediately you discovered it, too. I shall have something to say to you presently!”

  Louisa wilted under her Mama’s arctic glare.

  “Come. We will rejoin your Papa and wait for news from the Carstares.”

  * * * *

  In the event, both Mr Carstares and his mother arrived in answer to Sir James’s rather disjointed note.

  Mrs Carstares sailed into the room like a small, angry whirlwind, her plump figure quivering with indignation. “I mean to get to the bottom of this!” she announced trenchantly.

  Her son followed her in, looking both sheepish and defiant.

  “This letter,” she held out the offending document, “This letter I do not at all understand! If you have lost your half-sister, why should you think my son had anything to do with her disappearance?”

  “Is it true, Sir?” enquired Robin anxiously. “Is she really missing?”

  Sir James regarded him wi
th perplexity. Having come to believe that he must have eloped with Anastasia, it was disconcerting to have him here, seemingly as worried as they were!

  “Yes. Yes, she is missing,” he said heavily. “We know that she left the house late last night, and she did not return to it.”

  Mr Carstares paled and made to speak, but his Mama was before him: “So she has left your house? Run away, in fact! But why you think that Robin had anything to do with it is beyond me! Perhaps you could explain to me how it was that my son, who spent the entire evening at home, could last night have been helping your half-sister to leave her home. And for what?”

  She glared angrily and triumphantly at Sir James, who showed evidence of wilting under such a determined attack.

  Lady Derwent, however, was made of sterner stuff. “I think it would be as well if you were to hear what Louisa has to say about last night,” she stated icily, pushing her daughter forward.

  Louisa, not unpleased to find herself the focus of all eyes, looked once, shrinkingly, at Mrs Carstares, before turning to look accusingly at Robin: “I saw you last night, meeting Anastasia in the shrubbery after we had all gone to bed!”

  His Mama looked at him with incredulity. “Robin – can this be true? Did you really meet that girl clandestinely and at night?”

  He flushed. “Do not say it like that, Mama! – there was no harm in it! I have known her for ever, after all, and she has always got up to such escapades!”

  “That is beside the point,” said Sir James, “And my unfortunate sister is no longer a child! If this is indeed true, you have been guilty of grave misbehaviours, nay, of leading my innocent young sister into grave impropriety!”

  “As to that, Sir, I am prepared to make what reparation I may by marrying her!”

  “Robin — no!” cried his Mama. “If the hussy led you on into such meetings, trading on a childhood friendship, it is no fault of yours! There can be no necessity for such a disastrous step as marrying her would be!”

  “Mama! I will not have you speak of Anastasia in that way! You know it is my dearest wish to marry her.”