“Kitty would not do that – it wouldn’t be like her! Will you not tell me where she is, then?” He looked as though he might set about knocking the information out of Sir Montagu at any moment, and he pressed the bell hastily for the servant.
“See this fellow out!” directed Sir Montagu, recovering his poise. “I think he has made a mistake!”
Tom gave him one last, long look, and then allowed himself to be ushered out.
Once in the street he drew a deep breath and unclenched his fists. He had been sorely tempted!
“Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” he muttered to himself, for he was a church-going man. “But hitting that worm would’ve given me nothing but happiness!”
He walked slowly down the handsome paved street, turning the interview over in his mind. He knew Sir Montagu to be lying, for he had immediately recognised him as the man who had persuaded his Kitty into running off like that, and he would swear that he also knew where she was.
As for his tale of Kitty leaving him of her own free will for someone else.... well, that was untrue! She just would not do that, and Sir Montagu must have offered her marriage to have lured her away in the first place.
No, he could not be easy until he had seen her, and assured himself that she was safe. Then, if she wanted it, he would go away again.
But London was a big place — bigger by far than he had ever imagined. It was the purest of chances that had enabled him to discover who Sir Montagu was, so how then was he ever to discover Kitty?
He decided that the only thing to do was to keep a close watch on Sir Montagu in the hope that he was still visiting Kitty, and would eventually lead him to her.
By one of those ironies of fate, he took up his watch on the very day that Kitty abandoned hers, missing her by a matter of hours. For both, the coming night and day were to seem endless.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lord Silverfield woke with an aching head and an imperfect memory of the previous evening which had begun with his iron determination to forget, once and for all, that such fickle jades as Anastasia Derwent existed.
Recollection of the disastrous interview with her came rushing back to him, but he pushed it aside firmly and sat up with more haste than discretion, causing his head to feel in imminent danger of detaching.
He fell back, clutching his disordered black locks and groaning.
There was a polite cough from the end of the bed, and he raised his eyes to see Quimper, his valet, holding a breakfast tray in the cautious manner of one uncertain of his welcome.
But his master’s face, although set in grim lines and wearing more than its usual air of dissipation, showed no immediate signs of wrath, so he stepped up to the bed and placed the tray invitingly before the somewhat bloodshot eyes.
“Good morning, my Lord,” he said sedately.
“Oh God! – my head! Quimper, I think I had a trifle too much to drink last night. What time did I come home?”
“Past four of the clock, Sir, and in the company of Mr Cole. Mr Cole is asleep upon the sofa at this very moment, my Lord.”
“The devil he is! Too drunk to get home, eh?”
The valet gave this his consideration. “Perhaps not quite, Sir. But he seemed to be under the delusion that you had both sworn an oath of eternal brotherhood which entailed him taking up his immediate residence with you. I took the precaution of removing his boots.”
A rueful smile twitched the corners of his lordship’s mouth. “Well, do not disturb him yet, for we had a pretty batch of it last night! And take this damned tray away. You can bring me one of your corpse-revivers instead. And Quimper – ”
“Yes, my Lord?”
“Lay out a suit of clothes suitable for one making an offer of marriage, will you? Something suitably funereal.”
Quimper’s face remained politely impassive. “As you wish, Sir.”
Lord Silverfield lay back with a groan and closed his eyes.
* * * *
Sir James Derwent rubbed his hands together gleefully. Whoever would have thought that the young dog would come to the point before his twelve months were up? Yet he had!
Lord Silverfield, pale as death and his expression one of a man going to his execution, had just asked for Louisa’s hand in marriage.
“Well, well!” he repeated, for about the tenth time, and offered to send for refreshments. Lord Silverfield declined cursorily, and Sir James said doubtfully: “I expect you want to see Louisa, eh? She will be quite delighted......”
His voice tailed off. It had not escaped his notice that the Captain Bladen he had once dismissed as a penniless soldier had returned, a richer man, to pay court to his daughter once more.
And that Louisa had taken on a new bloom of prettiness, and sparkled in his company, was obvious even to her father.
He sighed. It was all very difficult. If he did not so badly need the money that would come to him when his daughter married Lord Silverfield he supposed that he would not have been averse to an offer by the Captain.
Though there was the title too, of course. ‘My Lady Silverfield’ sounded very well, very well indeed! He stiffened his resolve. Louisa would do as she was bidden or he would know the reason why.
“Unfortunately my daughter has gone out with her Mama. She will certainly be sorry to have missed you, but perhaps you could call later. . .?” He was not averse to having time in which to speak to Louisa, in case she had some stupid idea of refusing him.
“Oh, tomorrow will do,” said Lord Silverfield gloomily. “I will call again tomorrow.”
This casualness irked Sir James, but he managed to appear equable. “I am sure she will be pleased to receive you tomorrow, then. If you mean to attend the celebrations at Vauxhall tonight, she will be there with Lady Dunford’s party.”
“I have not yet decided whether to attend — but I will certainly look out for the party if I do. I take it your half-sister, Miss Anastasia Derwent, will also be attending?”
Sir James eyed him cautiously. It was common knowledge that he had been flirting outrageously with Anastasia, when he should have been paying his attentions to Louisa, but he had put it down to the perversity of his nature rather than to any serious interest.
Nevertheless he said: “Yes indeed. Sir Montagu Morley will be there too, you know – it is all but settled that she is to marry him after all!”
“Indeed? I thought that she showed a marked aversion to him.”
“That was mere girlish nonsense! Sir James – my father, you know — spoilt her, and let her get all kinds of wild notions into her head! We will be glad to see her settled with a sober, steady man who can control her wild starts.”
Lord Silverfield had been half-listening to this, correctly deducing that the projected alliance was more wishful thinking on Sir James’s side than actual fact, but something caused him to sit up straight and stare intently at his host.
“Sir James? Did you say that your father was called Sir James?”
“Well, yes – all the first-born sons in my family are called James. It is not unusual, I believe!” He wondered if his wife’s idea that Lord Silverfield was not quite right in the head could possibly have some foundation – he was certainly sitting with an almost half-witted expression on his face now!
Then his Lordship got up abruptly. “No, no, not at all ... that is ... where is my hat? I must leave immediately!”
“Immediately? Will you not stay and...?”
But he was too late. Lord Silverfield was already half-way down the hall.
* * * *
Louisa sat glumly in Lady Dunford’s elegant drawing-room in the company of Anastasia and Georgiana, to whom she had just poured out the whole tale of Lord Silverfield’s proposal.
She had been met with the information that she was betrothed on her return from a shopping expedition to buy new satin slippers for that evening’s entertainment at Vauxhall.
Upon learning the name of her prospective husband she had fallen into a fit
of the hysterics and declared that never, never, would she marry Lord Silverfield, come what may!
She had been slapped back to sense and coherence by her Mama, and then bullied, cajoled, and brow-beaten until her head was in a whirl and she had weakly agreed to do as she was told.
The habit of obedience is not easily broken, but love made her stubborn. Outwardly she bent to her parents’ wishes, but inwardly she seethed with rebellion.
She had come now to pour out her troubles, and to ask their advice.
She sniffed dolefully. “And what I am to do I don’t know, for they are set on the marriage!”
Anastasia listened to the whole with a strange sinking of the heart. Since her last interview with Lord Silverfield she had felt a strange and bewildering mixture of emotions.
His kiss had been of anger, but she felt as if it was still imprinted on her lips. As to his words, she knew them now to be caused by jealous anger arising from a misunderstanding; but she was still enraged by his thinking so badly of her, and his words rankled in her mind.
Besides, even if all were clear between them, she did not know that he loved her; and if he did, he could not marry her, or he would be ruined.
And now here was Louisa telling her that he had become betrothed to her on the very morning after their quarrel! So be it then: he did not love her! She had deluded herself. Perhaps he felt some attraction to her, which had caused his strange behaviour, but not enough to forgo his inheritance.
Louisa was sniffing miserably into a cambric handkerchief. The tip of her nose was pink, and a wisp of blonde hair had detached itself and hung down. It was impossible not to feel sorry for her.
“Do you truly not wish to marry him, Louisa? You were not always of this mind.”
She raised a woebegone face. “That was before William — Captain Bladen – came back. Once I had seen him again I knew that I loved him still, and he feels just the same!” She added proudly: “He said that he had never stopped loving me all the time we had been apart!”
Georgy reflected that Louisa’s affections had not been of such a high order, but there was no denying that the first attachment of a girl of seventeen, and that of a young woman of twenty-three are very different things.
“Does. . . . has Captain Bladen asked you to marry him?” enquired Ana.
“Well . . . not in so many words, for he knows how I am situated with regard to Lord Silverfield, but I know he loves me! He detests Lord Silverfield and says he is a spendthrift and a libertine!”
“Really Louisa! He is no such thing!” cried Anastasia hotly. “He is just very young, and a little wild, that is all.”
Louisa and Georgy looked at her comprehendingly, and she blushed hotly and rushed on: “Besides, have you thought what will happen if you do not marry him? He will have no money at all, and apparently the estate is run down or mortgaged.”
“Well, I do not care! He should have thought of that before. He has paid me no heed since I have been in Town. . it is you he has been flirting with, as all know! Now he is casually throwing down the glove and expecting me to pick it up gratefully. Well, I won’t!”
“Bravo!” said Georgy applauding. “And I wish you happy with your gallant Captain! But are you quite sure that he wishes to marry you? After all.....”
“Lord, Georgy, where have your wits gone begging? It is obvious to everyone that Captain Bladen is head over heels in love with her!”
Louisa blushed becomingly. “I am quite sure.” Then her eyes filled with tears again. “But I cannot think that Papa would let me marry him now!”
“Now, Louisa, it just needs a little resolution. . .” began Anastasia, when the door opened and Captain Bladen was shown in.
“The very man!” exclaimed Georgiana, springing to her feet.
He looked momentarily taken aback, but perceiving Louisa seated upon the sofa he came quickly towards her.
“Why, you have been crying!” he said, sitting beside her and taking her hands in a comforting grip. “What is the matter?”
He received such a tangled torrent of explanation mingled with sobs, that the cousins, who had been tempted to creep away and leave the two alone, were forced to take a hand in the explanations themselves.
Once he had grasped the salient points his jaw set stubbornly and the light of battle came into his eyes. “I will go and speak with Sir James myself, this instant!”
Louisa started up in alarm and declared that if he did he would be shown the door, and she would never, ever, be allowed to see her beloved William again!
“But devil take it, what other course is open to me? You would marry me, would you not?” he demanded, turning to his love.
“Tomorrow!” she breathed. “If only it were possible!”
“I do not see why it should not be,” said Anastasia.
The others stared at her uncomprehendingly.
“Elope!”
There were immediate expostulations.
“Oh, I could not – it would be so very wrong of me!” sighed Louisa.
“It would not be the conduct of a man of honour. I could not subject Miss Derwent to such an ordeal.”
“The very thing!” exclaimed Georgiana. “Louisa is of age, so what is to stop them? You cannot be said to be a fortune hunter, for she has no fortune — or very little at any rate.”
They argued the matter back and forth until it was probably the most debated elopement ever.
Louisa quite soon became enamoured of the romantical notion of eloping, and Captain Bladen, although still wishing to face Sir James like a man of honour, gave in, in the end, to her pleading.
“When to do it, is the question now,” said Georgiana. “I think you will need a special licence.... or will you?”
“A special licence?” said the Captain perplexedly. “I don’t think I know where....”
“Oh, it will be a simple matter to find out if you need one, and if so where it can be obtained,” said Anastasia blithely. “To a man of your abilities!”
He closed his mouth upon expostulation. “Of course!”
“As to when. . . . I think it should be before her betrothal to Lord Silverfield is announced. There will be less scandal then.”
Louisa gave a convulsive shudder. “Oh, I could not face him tomorrow, knowing what I am to do! I could not!”
“Then it must be tonight,” said Anastasia. “Why not? The sooner the better!”
“Tonight! But I don’t think I can make the arrangements that quickly. . . .” protested Captain Bladen. “Besides, where are we to go?... Ah!” his face lightened.
“You have thought of something?” enquired Louisa adoringly. “You are so clever, William – I knew you would find a way!”
“I have indeed had a happy thought, my love. I have a friend who is now in Holy Orders at a small place called Lowthorne, and he is married to a most excellent woman. He would give us shelter, and marry us too, if you would trust yourself to me for such a journey. It is a matter of some fifty miles.”
She smiled trustfully at him. “Of course I will trust you, dear William!” They gazed besottedly at one another.
Anastasia cleared her throat. “That is all settled then, and I know how we can get Louisa away without being immediately discovered, I think. Tonight we all go to Vauxhall, do we not? The whole world goes to Vauxhall! Well then.....”
She unfolded her scheme, and if she felt a pang at thus conniving at Lord Silverfield’s ruin she swiftly buried it under her hurt pride.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lady Dunford had been disappointed in her daughter’s choice of husband. Not because she disliked the young man – indeed, she thought him delightful – but rather because she had hoped that Georgiana, blessed with fortune and beauty, could have made a much grander match.
But she was not proof against her daughter’s coaxing and her good nature could not long sustain an air of grave re-proach.
By the night of the Vauxhall celebrations she was resigned to the match,
and escorted the trio of young ladies there with Mr Carstares accompanying them, very much the accepted suitor.
Indeed, she had expressly commanded him to make one of the party, feeling that she might be in need of male escort in such a crush as it promised to be.
The occasion was to be a fete in honour of the victory of Lord Wellington at Vittoria, and with so great a number of people to be present (rumour had it that over one thousand would be at the dinner alone), the company might be a trifle mixed.
Mrs Carstares was also to make one of the party, and the two older ladies were resplendent in velvets and satins, and wearing imposing turbans.
Anastasia wore a dress of her favourite Pomona green, and Georgiana had chosen a dress of white crêpe over an orange satin slip. But Louisa, despite much good advice, had on a fussy satin and net frock much embellished with spangles, and in an insipid shade of blue.
There was a tremendous crush of carriages as they approached Vauxhall, and they moved so slowly that is seemed to the impatient girls that they would never arrive.
Robin escorted the party to one of the little boxes in which refreshments were served, and established them there. They were soon eagerly looking about them at the colourful, ever-changing multitude.
Even Louisa temporarily forgot her forthcoming elopement in gazing about her, and in criticising the various toilettes with her companions, and in greeting acquaintances.
Lady Dunford had placed herself next to Mrs Carstares, and now set out to detail to that lady just how fortunate her son, a mere Mr Carstares, might think himself in managing to attract the attention of a Dunford.
Mrs Carstares was not to be browbeaten by such tactics. Her family might not be titled – though this, she stated, was through choice and not lack of ancestry – but it was a far, far older one than the Dunfords, who were mere upstarts of the reign of King Richard!
The Other Miss Derwent Page 14