by Carola Dunn
“Pretending to listen!” said Delia.
“Go on, Mr. Russell,” said Lord Iverbrook. “This grows interesting.”
“Anyway, they did not go with us. We went back along the corridor a little way and then Mrs. Parcott tripped. There was all sorts of debris on the floor. She hurt her ankle quite badly. Or so she said,” he frowned, “for later she had no limp, now I come to think of it.”
The viscount stood up, as if inaction was more than he could hear. Clive looked at him in alarm and he sat down again.
“Go on.”
“She begged me to fetch my carriage and drive as close as I could. She was to meet the person who had brought her to Abingdon at the Crown, but could not walk so far. So I left her seated on a fallen beam and went to get the carriage. When I returned I helped her to the carriage, and then it seemed silly just to take her to the Crown, so I drove her home. She invited me in,” Clive’s face was scarlet again, his eyes on his feet, “for refreshments. When I left, it was nearly dark and it seemed pointless to go back to the abbey. I was sure everyone must have left. So I went home.”
“Thank you,” said his lordship, wondering just what form Amabel’s gratitude had taken. He stood up again. “Unless anyone has other suggestions, I believe we can assume Selena is still at the abbey. I shall go and fetch her.”
“I’ll come with you!” offered Delia, Clive, and Mr. Hastings all at once.
“I think not.” Iverbrook smiled at Lady Whitton. “I shall bring her home safe, ma'am, never fear.”
“Dear Hugh, I’m sure you will,” she said simply.
* * * *
Jem was just as determined to go with the viscount.
“If the Bart’s hurt Miss Selena, I’ll help you give him a taste o' home-brewed!” he suggested.
“Thank you, Jem, but you may rest assured that if the baronet stands in need of a dusting, I shall administer it.”
"His lordship peels to advantage,” said Tom Arbuckle drily. “He won’t need no help to darken the Bart’s daylights.”
“Handy with your fives, eh, my lord?” The groom looked over his tall, rangy form with a knowledgeable eye. “Good reach, I’d say.”
"And good science, and all the will in the world. Spring ‘em!” Jem stood away from the horses' heads and his lordship took them out of the stableyard at a rattling pace. Not since the day he had found Peter had he driven down the drive in such haste, but then he had been in a fury, distracted. This time he was coldly collected, in control, aware of every moon-shadow that might force him to slacken his speed. The curricle swung into the lane and he let the greys have their heads. They had done one stage already today but they were once again the prime cattle he remembered. They flew towards Abingdon.
* * * *
Selena knew that if she did not move soon, she would not be able to move at all. She trembled constantly and the numbness that had started in her toes was creeping up to her knees.
The torch over the Nag’s Head sign had guttered out some time ago. A merry couple went into the tavern and closed the door behind them. There was no one on the bridge, only the moonlight to give her away.
She pulled herself painfully to her feet and staggered out onto the bridge. One hand on the parapet, she had taken several faltering steps when, with a ring of hooves on paving, a carriage appeared out of the darkness and started towards her.
It was moving fast. Perhaps the driver would not see her. She cowered against the wall, lost her balance, and fell full length in the roadway.
With an oath from the driver, the horses pulled up inches from her head. He jumped down and strode towards her. She tried to move, managed to rise to her knees, and faced him, holding her torn shift together with shaking hands.
“Selena!” Iverbrook dropped to his knees and hugged her to him. “My darling, I thought you were a ghost! Ye gods, you are cold enough to be one, and wet through!”
He picked her up, his strong arms holding her close. She tried to speak; numb lips and chattering teeth would not obey her.
“Hush, my love. You shall tell me later.” He bent his head and kissed her, and she discovered her lips were not as numb as she had thought. He lifted her into the carriage and climbed up beside her. “First we must dry you, and I cannot take you to an inn for in your present condition the damage to your reputation would be beyond all repairing. You will have to take off your wet, uh, garment.” He pulled a fur rug from under the seat and held it so as to shield her from anyone coming out of the tavern.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered, and when he did, she struggled out of her shift. Reaching to take the rug from him, she touched his fingers and he opened his eyes. He caught a glimpse of her slim, pale body gleaming in the moonlight and quickly closed them again.
Eyes screwed shut, he helped her pull the rug around her. His hand brushed her naked breast. She shivered, not, this time, from cold.
The horses moved restlessly. Quickly Selena arranged the rug to cover her toes yet provide maximum decency. Already she felt much warmer.
“Ready,” she said.
Iverbrook took one look at her bare shoulders and stripped off his many-caped driving coat. As he draped it about her, somehow their lips met and he held her for a long moment, until the jingling of the horses’ bits reminded him of where they were. His left arm still around her, he picked up the reins in his right hand and urged the greys on.
He turned the curricle in the deserted marketplace, needing both hands for the job, and they drove back across the bridge in silence. How beautiful the Thames looked under the moon! A faint mist rose from its glimmering surface and a swan floated downstream in proud solitude.
Selena cleared her throat.
“How did your business go in London?” she asked.
They were on the pike road, and the viscount could have spared an arm for his companion. Somehow, he felt, it would have been taking advantage of her dependence on him.
“Very well,” he answered. “I had to sign some papers for my lawyer before ten o’clock this morning, in order to put a final end to that wretched lawsuit.”
“Peter?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Mama did not expect you back until tomorrow.”
“I could not stay away, knowing that you thought . . . not knowing what you thought! Selena, what has your mother told you, or Hasty, about Saturday night?”
“Only that you are not, perhaps, the villain that you seemed, and that I must hear the tale from you.
“I seemed a villain to you?”
“What could I suppose when Cousin Aubrey announced that he had seen you going upstairs with Amabel!”
“He did not, I feel sure, explain that I was unconscious at the time.”
“Unconscious! Oh Hugh!”
“Drugged. After what has happened today, I would wager half my fortune on it.”
Ignored, the horses slowed to a walk as he told what he had learned of Amabel’s and Aubrey’s actions over the past few days. She reciprocated with the story of her escape from the abbey, which led to many expressions of admiration and the return of his arm to her waist. Selena leaned against him.
“I know that Aubrey wants to marry me,” she said in puzzlement, “but why should Amabel wish to help him?”
Iverbrook was glad she could not see his flushed face. “If he marries you,” he pointed out, “then I cannot. And she has been setting her cap at me for years.”
Selena was silent and straightened a little in her seat, but did not remove his arm. Emboldened, he continued.
“You may remember that I once asked you to marry me?” It was her turn to blush.
“I was not listening at the time,” she confessed, “but afterwards, when I thought back, I knew you had.”
“Your response did not precisely encourage me to try my luck again. However, fool that I am, I cannot help myself! Selena, there is nothing I want more in this world than to have you for my wife. Will you marry me?”
; She did not answer for a moment, then said with difficulty, “You are not asking me because of tonight? Because you feel you ought to?”
“No!” The explosive violence of his reply startled the horses into a trot. For a moment he was occupied with the reins, slowing them one-handed to a walking pace again. Selena had stopped shivering and he was in no hurry to return her to her family. “No,” he said again, in calmer tones, “and I hope, indeed I know, that you have too much strength of mind to allow such considerations to influence your decision. I should be no better than Sir Aubrey were I to take advantage of you in such a way. No one need ever know in what condition I found you.”
She giggled. “Except Bannister. You will never succeed in smuggling me past his watchful eye. And Polly will wonder what has become of my gown, not to mention my pelisse and my shoes and my hat and my gloves!”
“You did not leave your clothes with your cousin!”
“No, I threw them into the river. I thought they would compromise me as thoroughly as my presence."
“Clever girl! Now, with that problem out of the way, how about an answer?”
She turned and, promptly forgetting her state of undress, flung her arms about his neck. “Oh yes, Hugh, I will marry you. And I promise never to suspect you unjustly again!”
“No promises you can’t keep!” he mumbled into her hair, returning her embrace with fervour. Then he came to his senses and wrapped her up again in rug and coat. “You will get cold again,” he said severely.
“If I catch an inflammation of the lungs, will you nurse me?”
“Willingly, my love, but I suspect your mama might have something to say about that. Do you feel unwell?”
“Not in the least. I have never felt better. Hugh, do you know the story of Artemis and Actaeon?”
“Was he not the one who saw her swimming naked, and she was so angry she turned him into a stag? He was torn to pieces by his own hounds. You do not mean to turn me into a stag, I trust?”
“No.” She turned and kissed his cheek. “It would be such a waste. Do you know about Endymion too?”
“That is not the sort of tale I should tell to a gently bred female!”
“That is what Papa always said. But now we are betrothed, could you not tell me?”
He looked down at her. Even by moonlight he read the mischief in her face, and she heard the laughter in his voice as he answered.
“Minx! Very well. I obey the moon goddess, but only because it will bring such a blush to your face as will stop you feeling the cold. To begin with, the situation was reversed. Endymion was sleeping naked on a mountain. . .”
“That makes me feel colder!”
“Come closer then, and don’t interrupt.”
“I can’t get any closer.”
“As I was saying, Endymion was asleep and Artemis—or shall I call her Selene?—saw him and fell in love with his beautiful form. She, uh, visited him in his sleep and he enjoyed the visit so much that he prayed to his father, Zeus (who, I’m sorry to say, was her father too), to give him eternal youth and eternal sleep so that he could go on dreaming. Selene—oh very well, Artemis—bore him fifty daughters, and for all we know still visits him regularly. Now, are you hot all over?”
“Warmer,” she admitted. “What shocking morals the ancients had!”
* * * *
The sound of the carriage crunching up the gravel drive brought the family to the doorstep and the entire staff of the Manor to the front hall.
“So much for smuggling you in unseen,” grunted Lord Iverbrook, carrying Selena up the steps as Tom ran to lead the horses away.
“Never mind,” she said blithely. “Mama, I am to marry Hugh!”
“How delightful, dearest,” said Lady Whitton. “I knew he would bring you back safely. But where is Aubrey?”
The viscount looked at her blankly, and then a broad grin spread across his face.
“Do you know,” he said, “I had quite forgot him. Poor Aubrey is going to have to spend the night all alone in a monk’s cell at the haunted abbey!”
Chapter 16
Early the next morning, Lord Iverbrook and Mr. Hastings set off for Abingdon in the barouche. Jem was driving, “It being my lady’s carriage,” and Tom kept him company on the box in case another pair of strong arms was needed to release Sir Aubrey from his prison.
Both Selena and Delia had expressed a desire to be present, only to have the suggestion grimly vetoed by the viscount.
“Hugh, you will not come to blows with him!” Lady Whitton said anxiously. “To be sure, he behaved very shabbily in trying to take advantage of Selena’s situation, but there is no proof that he had a hand in planning it.”
She had to be content with his assurance that he would take her point of view under consideration.
Clouds had blown in from the west overnight, and when they reached Abingdon Bridge a light rain was falling. Mr. Hastings turned up his collar and remarked that it was ill weather for rescuing rogues.
“Hush,” said his lordship. “What’s that noise?”
Across the water came a confused babble of voices. As Jem drew the horses to a standstill, Tom stood up precariously on the box and gazed at the far side of the river.
“There’s a whole fleet of boats over there, m’lord,” he said. “Over by that wall. We c’d likely see more a bit further on.”
Jem drove on past the Nag’s Head and stopped just before the end of the bridge. Lord Iverbrook and Mr. Hastings both rose to their feet and looked up-river.
Nine or ten small boats had gathered near the wall. Boys in skiffs and dinghies were laughing and jeering, while two men in a fishing dory shouted advice and encouragement, judging by the sound of their voices. The source of the excitement was a pale blob, high on the wall.
The viscount’s eyes gleamed with unholy joy.
“Jem, can you row?” he demanded.
"Aye, my lord. I’ve lived by the river all me life.”
“Find us a boat. Hasty, we are going for a short cruise.”
Mr. Hastings looked down at his spotless fawn unmentionables, sighed, and agreed that if things were as they appeared to be, he would not miss the sight for the world.
They were not mistaken.
The crowd fell silent at their approach. “Why, Sir Aubrey, what a pleasure to see you here!” said Lord Iverbrook.
The baronet was not his usual striking self. His yellow hair hung in lank locks, dripping rainwater into the river below. The sleeves of his cerise coat were torn and begrimed. Beyond that they could not see, for only his head and arms protruded from the wall. He groaned and grimaced.
“Very bad ton!” said Mr. Hastings disapprovingly. “Not at all the thing to make yourself a bobbing-block for the local citizens.”
“Get me out of here!” Sir Aubrey croaked in desperation.
“Usn tried to reach him wi’ the boathook,” reported one of the men in the dory. “But he can’t hardly move his arms and we was afeard to snag his coat case of hurting him.”
“How long has he been here?” asked the viscount, trying with poor success to hide his grin. Apparently none of these bumpkins had thought to attempt a rescue from the gentleman’s nether end.
“Dunno,” answered one of the boys. “Usn come down at dawn to fish off'n the island and there he were, like a cork in a bottle.”
“Stuck tighter’n a penny in a miser’s pocket,” confirmed one of his mates.
“Hafta take the wall down,” opined another, a witticism greeted with general laughter.
“Have none of you business elsewhere?” asked Lord Iverbrook. “I intend to go round into the abbey to see what can be done there to release this unfortunate. Should it prove necessary to eject him in this direction, will you remain here to haul him out?”
“Aye, sir,” said the man, “us’ll stay, for ‘tis too late in the day to do any other sort o’ fishing.”
Jem turned their commandeered skiff and headed back to the jetty below the bridge.
"‘Tis my belief, my lord,” he said, “as ‘twill be a sight easier to push the Bart out nor it will to pull him in.”
His lordship laughed. “Do you know, Jem, I’m inclined to agree with you!”
Tom had taken the carriage to the Crown and Thistle and he met them on the bridge. The four men sauntered into the abbey grounds, in no hurry to put an end to the baronet’s captivity. They found the door of his cell without difficulty.
A long beam from the ruined roof, not thick but less decayed than most, was wedged across the corridor, from a point about a third of the way up the door to the angle of floor and wall on the opposite side.
“Very clever, m’lord,” said Tom admiringly. “Could almost have happened by accident, like. If ‘twas leaning ‘gainst the wall here, wouldn’t have took but a shove and a moment to put in its place.”
“‘Tain’t too heavy, neither,” Jem pointed out, freeing it with a jerk and laying it aside.
“But immovable from inside,” said Iverbrook. “An effective piece of work indeed.”
Tom swung the door open.
“Hinges oiled,” he said, peering at them. “After you, m’lord.”
The cell, its window blocked, was murky and it took the viscount’s eyes several moments to adjust. He shivered in the damp, cold air and tried to imagine Selena trapped in here alone with her cousin, shouting for help as the light faded. No wonder the river had seemed an acceptable alternative! Sir Aubrey’s plight no longer seemed a joke but an inadequate retribution.
He regained his sense of humour with his sight. The baronet dangled from the waist, most of his upper body stuck within the width of the wall. His nether garments had split open in his struggles. Less farsighted than Selena, he had kept on his boots as well as his coat, and their toes hung scant inches from the stone-paved floor.
Iverbrook waved Tom and Jem forward.
“Give it a try,” he said, “but don’t pull too hard or you might hurt him. Lady Whitton urged me not to inflict any damage.”
A glance of complicity passed between the erstwhile rivals. They advanced on Sir Aubrey, grasped the heels of his boots, and with the utmost delicacy pulled them off.