In a steely voice that reminded both young men that he had once been a commanding officer, Sir Charles brought them to attention. “That will do for now. You young cocks may posture and fight later, if you like, but right now the essential thing is to find Davida.”
Curzon turned to Sir Charles. “Surely she has some sort of sensible plan? She’s a bright gel, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t come to any harm. Perhaps she’s with her friend, what is her name . . . the duke’s daughter?”
“Right now she’s a very young, innocent girl on her own in a large, wicked city.” Davida’s father’s voice was heavy with pain. “If you do hear anything, you’ll let us know?”
“Of course. And don’t worry. Won’t say anything to a soul. You’ve my word on it.” He directed his remarks to Sir Charles. “If there’s any way I can aid you, let me know.” They shook hands, and then the dejected father and fiancé climbed back into Sir Charles’s carriage.
“Any other ideas, sir?”
“None. Of course we must see if she’s at Sarah’s, but her note seemed to indicate . . . a more favorable match.’ ‘A more favorable match.’” Sir Charles mused on Davida’s words and then a look of horror crossed his face. “She surely wouldn’t have gone to old Lord Tarkington!”
Pelham swore violently. “Never say you considered him?”
“Not for a minute, nor did Davida. But he did offer and we joked about it. About marrying her to his title.” Sir Charles dropped his head in his hands in dejection. “Never really cared about the title, you know. Not really. Wanted her to be happy. Thought she would be, with you.”
They drove to Sarah’s aunt’s home, where the servants assured them Miss Davida had not been there. In fact, Lady Sarah and Lady D’Alatri were on their way to the Greshams’.
The two men drove silently back to the Gresham house, to find Sarah and her aunt with Lady Elizabeth in the drawing room.
“Oh, George. Sarah thinks Davida may have gone to her father!”
“Harwood? Why?”
“My father teased Davida about marrying him. Just before we left for London, he told her if she didn’t find what she was looking for during the season, he’d offer for her.”
“But he was joking, surely.”
“Davida took it so at the time, sir, but I know my father. There was something about his manner. I felt if she’d taken him seriously, he would have been pleased. I said as much to her after she turned down Mr. Curzon.”
Lady D’Alatri nodded her head. “I know my brother admires Davida very much. In the letter in which he informed me that he wasn’t coming to Sarah’s ball, he alluded to her engagement as an ‘expected disappointment.’”
“My, my.” The look in Sir Charles eyes made Pelham suddenly doubt the old knight’s disdain for a title. With a chilling sense of foreboding he realized that a baron was a poor prospect if a duke was in the running.
Lady Elizabeth was anxiously looking at her husband for confirmation. “Could she have gone home, George? But how?” Suddenly she began to cry. “My baby, traveling to Queenswicke all alone.”
“Now, now, mother. We’ll leave immediately. That is to say . . .” Sir Charles lifted a questioning eye to Lord Pelham.
“Yes, sir, of course I’ll go, but with your permission, I’ll ride ahead, see if I can get some confirmation that she is traveling in that direction. I can travel much faster on horseback.”
“Oh, Charles. I just know that’s what she’s done. I’m coming with you.”
“Someone must stay here in case she returns. Sarah, Lady D’Alatri, would you keep Elizabeth company?” At Sarah’s eager nod, and her aunt’s murmured “of course,” Sir Charles turned to Pelham. “If you can mount me, Lord Pelham, I’ll ride with you instead of taking the traveling coach. Every minute may count. You can’t tell what kind of villain she may run into.”
Reluctantly Lady Elizabeth saw her husband off to Pelham’s mews to select two of his fastest horses. Then she turned to her guests.
“You must help me keep rumor at bay. I’m sure many people noticed something odd at the ball last night. Soon all the old tabbies will be here to sniff out a scandal.”
“I’m sure you are right, Cousin Elizabeth. Stories were already flying at the Raleighs’ last night. That’s what brought me here so early.”
“We’ll put it about that she has an influenza. No, perhaps just a cold. They may get her back in time for the wedding, so it must be something mild.”
Lady D’Alatri agreed. “And if anyone asks about last night, you can just admit they had a lovers’ tiff, but say that all is well now.”
Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “And I’ll say I looked in on her this morning and she could hardly speak for sneezing. We’ll be very anxious for her to get well in time for the wedding.”
“How shall we account for both Lord Pelham and my husband’s absence?” Lady Elizabeth looked anxiously from one to the other.
Sarah tapped her toes, looking at the ceiling for inspiration. “Perhaps . . . perhaps they are with the lawyers, working to complete the settlements before the wedding?”
Davida’s mother looked downcast. “Do you think there’ll be a wedding? After this start, Pelham may not want her.”
“Oh, Cousin Elizabeth. I think Monty cares for her very much. I shouldn’t be surprised at all to find he loves her, though he may not know it yet.”
“Yes, I’ve thought as much myself. I was quite surprised when Davida told me of his tryst with Lady Elspeth last night.”
“If only . . .”
“What, Sarah dear?”
“Oh, forgive me, Cousin Elizabeth, but I was just wondering. If Sir Charles learns she could be a duchess, will he still want her to wed Lord Pelham?”
Lady Elizabeth stared at Sarah, speechless, for a long moment, then answered in a firm, determined voice. “I’m sure he’ll give her a choice. He certainly won’t make her take your father if she prefers Pelham. Not if he ever wants any peace in his own home, at least!”
Sarah smiled and hugged Lady Elizabeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Oh, I do wonder how it will all come out.”
Davida was certainly a very young, very innocent girl on her own in a wicked world. But she was also very resourceful. And even in the large, wicked world there were many decent people. She was fortunate enough to find some of them on her journey north.
When she crept into the barely gray morning, her first goal was a hackney cab stand she knew of not too far from her home. Here she found a driver dozing on his box as his horse dozed in its traces.
First he tried to talk her into returning to her home. Clearly such a well-spoken young lady had no business going about London on her own! But when she insisted, and turned to look for another cab, he relented and took her straight to the Swan With Two Necks. He didn’t overcharge her on her fare and even carried her bag inside and helped her buy a ticket.
Davida knew that traveling to Queenswicke in a post chaise would require an overnight stay, with its attendant expenses and dangers. And she was ill-equipped to do the bargaining with hostlers and postillions that would be required. If she took one of the new Fast Coaches, she could be in her little village before midnight. She decided the lack of comfort and privacy of a public coach was preferable to an overnight stay.
She soon found herself hurtling down the road at a breakneck pace, almost as fast as the famous mail coaches. Her fellow travelers were all of a lower social status than she was accustomed to dealing with. However, a plump, talkative farmer’s wife soon had them all transformed from strangers into friends.
She took Davida under her wing immediately, not that she needed any protecting from the others, a young law student and a thin, sickly former soldier with only one arm.
From each of her fellow travelers the farmer’s wife seemed determined to extract a story, as if planning to play Chaucer and develop her own Canterbury Tales. When Davida’s turn came, she told an edited version of the truth, having little experience wit
h contriving made-up stories. She found sympathy from the others, and the goodwife, Mrs. Randall, offered her something even better, the promise of a generous helping from the picnic basket she had brought.
Having had no breakfast, Davida was quite starved and very grateful. On a brief stop at a posting house, while the horses were swiftly changed, Mrs. Randall admonished her, “Don’t try to buy food, you won’t have time any way. We’ll go to the withdrawing room to freshen up, and then purchase a jug of tea to wash down my picnic.”
Davida was soon glad she had followed this excellent advice; it was astonishing how quickly the horses were changed and they were called back to the coach. She ate hard boiled eggs, thickly sliced ham, bread and fruit, all washed down with the tea as the carriage rumbled on.
“That was the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” Davida sighed.
Mrs. Randall winked as she passed some rations to the others. “There’s naught like hunger to improve the cook.”
At the next, slightly longer, stop, a ribbon merchant replaced the young law clerk, who had hardly taken his rapturous gaze off Davida since she entered the coach, but had never gathered his nerve to speak to her.
The ribbon merchant, a jovial man, had Davida’s story from Mrs. Randall, and insisted on buying them both a dish of tea and some scones at the next posting house. When Davida tried to demur, he wouldn’t accept her refusal. “Now, miss, I’ll bet you’ve bought many a ribbon from me indirectly, through Mr. Barstow there in Meersford. ’Tis only right that I treat ye!”
Since Davida had indeed patronized the Barstows whenever her father took them to the nearby market town, she smiled and accepted graciously.
Some miles later the ribbon merchant was replaced by a stout cleric. To Davida’s relief, Mrs. Randall did not tell the runaway’s story to Reverend Arksworth, who might have scolded her at the least, and even perhaps appointed himself to return her to her parents.
Instead, the worthy minister began to argue theology with the soldier, whose own religious beliefs had been shaken in the ordeal of war. Though she had firm religious beliefs, Davida was no theologian. She began to doze.
When she awoke Mrs. Randall was gently shaking her shoulder. Another stop. It was midafternoon. She made haste to freshen herself while the horses were changed. The kindly goodwife left her a bundle of bread and cheese, for this was where she would leave the coach.
By early evening the only passenger remaining from the original group was the soldier, who was going to visit his brother in Leiscester. He had assured Mrs. Randall he would watch out for Davida. But no one offered her insult or danger, only a good deal of contradictory advice while the coach thundered on.
At Queenswicke, where she had originally planned to leave the coach to take a hackney to Harwood Court, Davida changed her plans slightly. At the last posting house she had caught a look at her pale face and disheveled clothing in the mirror of the refreshing room. She looked terrible. Also, it was going to be very late by the time she could reach the duke’s. She would have to rouse him from his slumbers. Both vanity and prudence dictated that she look more the thing before proposing to Lord Harwood. Also, at this late hour, it would be very difficult to arrange transport to Harwood Court from Queenswicke, whereas the larger town of Meersford would readily be able to provide her with a hackney whenever she wanted it.
Briefly, Davida considered going home, but she was afraid that her father’s servants might prove uncooperative. Old family retainers were often every bit as stuffy and domineering as parents. The housekeeper, in particular, might cut up stiff about letting her go to visit the Duke of Harwood on her own.
So she decided not to get off at Queenswicke, which was too small to have a decent inn. She purchased the additional ticket and continued to Meersford. It was not much farther from Harwood Court than Queenswicke, which was situated at the apex of a triangle almost equidistant from the two towns. There, at the Boar and Thistle, she could safely take a room for the night, for she knew the proprietors well, having often taken tea with her family there. She could rest a few hours, change into a fresh dress, and catch the early rising duke before he had time to depart on his day’s activities.
It was with great relief that, near midnight, she entered the Boar and Thistle. “Miss Gresham, is it?” The surprised younger son of the innkeeper greeted her. “But whatever are you doing on a public coach? Where is your family? Never say you are traveling without a maid?”
“Hello, Paul.” Davida had expected questions, but this barrage overwhelmed her. “I am exhausted. Could I have a room and a cold collation?”
“Of course, Miss Gresham. Right away.”
“I’ll need a gig or a hackney to take me to the Duke of Harwood’s tomorrow at first light,” she informed Paul as he handed her a room key.
“The duke? Not going home, hey?”
Davida had decided that the best approach with Paul and the other workers at the inn was simply not to answer their questions, so she just smiled at him. “And could I have some warm water for a bath, please?”
Davida did not expect to sleep very much, so worried as she was about her coming interview with the duke. But she had slept little the night before, and the day had been exhausting. Before she could be assailed by her doubts, or wonder what her parents were thinking, Davida had fallen soundly asleep.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lord Pelham and Sir Charles had started several hours behind Davida, but they had two distinct advantages. First, riding on prime bloods, they could make much better time than even the fastest coach.
Second, once they had learned at The Swan With Two Necks that a young girl answering Davida’s description had indeed purchased a ticket for Queenswicke on the northbound Fast Coach, they could ride the coach’s route with single-minded purpose, stopping only to change horses and grab a quick bite to eat. During such stops they made inquiries and were able to ascertain that Davida was still on the coach, still destined for Queenswicke.
At the last stop before Queenswicke, they verified that Davida had been seen on the coach, and decided to ride straight to Harwood Court.
“There’s not a decent inn in Queenswicke,” Sir Charles had reasoned, “so she’ll cozen some sort of conveyance and go directly to Harwood.”
They fully expected Davida to have arrived there an hour or two before them. It was 3 A.M. They had been blessed with a nearly full moon, which had made it possible for them to ride swiftly through the night.
When they at last roused the duke, they were horrified to learn that Davida had not arrived. Pelham feared that Sir Charles would collapse, so upset was he at this news. After a reviving brandy, though, Davida’s father pulled himself together.
“She must have gone home. No doubt that’s what she intended all along.” Sir Charles looked hopefully at Pelham for confirmation.
“Or perhaps there is someone else she might visit nearby?” Pelham’s query had the same hopeful, unsure quality about it.
The Duke of Harwood was curious, but too discreet to question his obviously distraught neighbor closely. He was told only that Davida had left home having given the impression she was coming to see him.
After he had sent his tired visitors on their way to Sir Charles’s nearby home, the Duke of Harwood mused over a brandy, wondering why Davida would come to him. It would be most improper. Unless? An interesting explanation caused the duke’s lips to curve in a speculative smile.
At the Gresham manor house, a single question to the sleepy, astonished servant who answered the door plunged Sir Charles into despair. “Not here, Monty. Damn all! Where can the chit have gotten to?”
“Perhaps she stopped somewhere to spend the night? Probably didn’t want to land on the Duke of Harwood’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Probably worn to the bone, too, pounding along all day in a public coach.”
Gray with exhaustion, Sir Charles could only say grimly, “I hope you are right, young man, though I have no idea who she would turn to other than
Harwood. But I can’t go on without a little rest. We’ll start early and search for her tomorrow.”
Lord Pelham wanted to go on searching, but he was unfamiliar with the country, and by this time the moon had set, making riding dangerous under the best of circumstances. He decided to rest for a few hours along with Sir Charles and then get an early start in the morning.
The first rooster was crowing as the maid obediently awakened Davida. She groaned, sure the bird must be mistaken, for she could detect no light in the sky. Still, she got up and hastily made her toilet, swallowed a dish of tea with a sweet roll, and settled into the hackney which she had requested the night before. By the time dawn was streaking the night sky, she was demanding entrance to the Duke of Harwood’s home.
“The little minx!” Lord Harwood snapped when told by his sleepy and very exasperated butler that Miss Davida Gresham awaited him below. Servant and master alike had barely fallen asleep again after his first visitors had departed.
“Tell her I will be with her shortly. And send a messenger to Sir Charles immediately to let him know his lost lamb has turned up on my doorstep.”
When Harwood entered his front drawing room, he paused a moment to savor the fresh beauty of his guest, who was standing like a frightened fawn before his carved marble fireplace.
“Davida, my child. This is a surprise!” Lifting her from her curtsy, he took her hands and led her to a settee. “I am sure you have a reasonable explanation for your presence here, unaccompanied, and at this barbaric hour.”
Davida flushed and stammered. She’d always liked Sarah’s father, but his manner of speech, usually faintly ironic, often left her not sure exactly what he meant. She had the strong impression he wasn’t really surprised to see her, in spite of his words. Yet how could he possibly have known she was coming?
How on earth could she propose to this intimidating man? Suppose he had never been the least bit serious? Confused and suddenly shy, Davida couldn’t decide where to look.
Lord Harwood laughed lightly at her discomposure. “Let me make things a little easier for you, Davie. Your father and a handsome young whelp named Pelham were here late last night, or I should say, earlier this morning.”
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