by Sandra Heath
Imogen went on embroidering for a moment, but then looked curiously at Nadia. “Is something wrong? You seem very preoccupied.”
“Wrong? No, nothing at all. Oh, it is good to find you at home, for I was sitting all alone at the embassy wondering what on earth I could do with myself this evening.”
Imogen was taken aback. “You were at the embassy?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I sent a footman around earlier to invite you to dine, but he returned to say that you were out.”
Nadia gave a light laugh. “Yes, I was. I had something important to attend to. I must have returned after your fellow had left. Anyway, all’s well that ends well, and I’m here now.”
“True.” Imogen’s needle flashed in and out several times more. “I’m surprised that you are at the proverbial loose end as well tonight. Where’s Rupert?”
“He is also dining, with his mother and that ridiculous St. Julienne creature.”
“He’s taking to extremes his willingness to be the dutiful and obliging son, isn’t he? That must be the fourth time this week he’s dined at home like that.”
Nadia breathed in a little irritatedly. “I suppose it is,” she replied shortly, “but it isn’t the Jamaican who concerns me, it’s Leonie Conyngham. You should be concerned about her too, Imogen.”
“Guy isn’t interested in her.”
“You’re a fool if you believe that.”
Imogen bridled a little. “There’s no need to speak to me like that—”
“There’s every need, Imogen.” Nadia hesitated. “There’s a great deal you don’t know about what’s happening tonight.”
“What don’t I know?”
Nadia smiled. “If it all goes to plan, by this time tomorrow we will both be rid of Leonie Conyngham, once and for all….”
* * *
It was nearly nine o’clock and Stella was lying in bed, the bedclothes pulled right up to her chin as she feigned sleep. Leonie was sitting by the fire, reading. She hadn’t been able to reach past the barrier which Stella had placed between them, and she was no nearer finding out what it was all about. She felt very disturbed and uneasy, and that was why she was remaining in the bedroom rather than going down to the kitchens to give Katy and Joseph their usual lesson. She glanced at the clock, wondering if Rupert would indeed be outside at nine, and even as the thought crossed her mind, she heard the sound of a carriage approaching. It came to a halt before the seminary.
Leonie put her book down and went to the window, wiping away the mist to look down. Only the horses were in the light from the streetlamp; the carriage itself was in darkness. She hesitated. Was it so very much to ask that she allow him to speak to her? She glanced back at Stella, who was still sleeping soundly in the bed, then on impulse she took her mantle from the wardrobe and hurried out. The moment the door closed behind her, Stella flung back the bedclothes. She was fully dressed.
She hurried to the window, gazing down at the carriage. She saw Leonie emerge slowly from the front door and then pause, as if undecided. She also saw Edward Longhurst lean out of the carriage window away from Leonie, bending down to hand a piece of paper to a small boy waiting there. The boy ran away in the darkness, toward Curzon Street. Stella didn’t wait to see any more; she ran from the room, tears in her eyes. She had trusted Leonie, believing her to be perfect in every way, but she wasn’t, she wasn’t!
Leonie still hesitated on the doorstep. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t think what it was. Then suddenly she realized: the carriage was Edward Longhurst’s; she’d seen it from the window the night of the theater! As she stared, she saw him look cautiously out, wondering why she wasn’t coming any nearer. It was a trap! With a gasp, she turned back into the seminary, closing the door behind her and pushing the bolts across. She was just in time to see Stella’s cloaked figure hurrying stealthily from the foot of the stairs toward the school wing.
In the carriage, Edward cursed beneath his breath. Somehow she’d sensed it was a trap. Damn her to hell and back! For a moment he was undecided what to do. He’d been so confident of success, overconfident it seemed, for he’d already sent his message to Guy. It was too late to retrieve it now. He leaned his head back against the soft upholstery, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his blue eyes cold and angry. Then he leaned from the window and ordered the coachman to drive home to Longhurst House.
As he passed South Audley Street, he glanced out and saw another carriage waiting close to the alley leading from the seminary garden. It would wait in vain now, for Stella de Lacey would not be coming.
* * *
Stella had left the seminary the same way this time that she had done before, through the French windows in the dining room, and out into the snow-covered gardens. Her footprints were easy to follow, and Leonie hurried anxiously after them.
She emerged from the alley just in time to see Stella climbing into a waiting carriage. It drew quickly away in the direction of Curzon Street, and Leonie ran desperately after it, calling Stella’s name. She was out of breath when she reached the corner. The carriage was passing Longhurst House, and she saw that Edward Longhurst was at that very moment alighting from his own carriage. In that fraction of a second she saw how sharply he turned to stare after the passing vehicle. He knew who was in it! Stella’s flight was all part of the same trickery!
At that moment a hackney coach drove slowly along, and without hesitation Leonie stepped in its path to wave it to a halt. With a curse, the hackneyman reined his horse in. She ran to speak to him. “Are you for hire?”
“I was just going home—”
“I’ll pay you well. I must follow that coach.” She pointed after the vanishing vehicle, which was turning out of Curzon Street and was now driving south toward Piccadilly. Soon it would be impossible to find it.
The hackneyman gaped after it. “Follow that? With old Jupiter here? You must be jesting, miss.”
“I’m not jesting, it’s very important. Please help me.”
He took a deep, resigned breath. “All right, I’ll do my best.”
She climbed quickly inside, and the old vehicle moved off as fast as its ancient horse could pull it. In her anxiety about Stella, Leonie had for the moment forgotten Edward Longhurst. She didn’t know that he had seen her hail the hackney.
The other carriage drove east through the crush of Piccadilly, and from time to time the hackneyman lost sight of it, but he always managed somehow to find it again. Farther and farther toward the old city of London they went, and gradually the more nimble hackney closed the gap between the two vehicles, maneuvering in and out until it was almost directly behind.
They drove along the Haymarket and into the Strand. Soon Ludgate Hill and St. Paul’s Cathedral lay ahead. Leonie gazed out with mounting concern. Where on earth was Stella being taken? And who was taking her?
At last the other carriage turned from the busier streets, driving south into a narrow lane near Queenhithe. The lane led toward the river, and there were now warehouses on either side, towering above the hackney as Leonie looked anxiously out. Then she saw a notice fixed to a wall, advising that the ice was safe to cross. At last she realized where Stella was going: the frost fair.
The carriage carrying the girl at last came to a standstill, for the lane led between two warehouses and was too narrow for such a large vehicle to pass. The hackney halted a discreet distance away, where the shadows were very dark and it couldn’t easily be seen, and Leonie alighted. The noise of the fair was all around, although it was hidden from view by the crowding buildings. The flickering light of bonfires and torches reached far up into the night sky, and shone brightly through the narrow way where Stella was hurrying away with a man and woman Leonie didn’t recognize. She called out to the girl, but the noise of the fair drowned her voice.
Leonie looked urgently up at the hackneyman. “Please wait for me.”
“Miss, old Jupiter’s in no state to go anywhere for a while yet. I’ll wait
, don’t you fret.”
She hurried after Stella then, and as she went between the warehouses, the confined space seemed to amplify the noise from the frozen river, making the mixture of voices and jangling music echo almost deafeningly. At last she emerged onto the wharf. The fair stretched over the uneven ice before her, a breathtaking sight lit by the dancing light of hundreds of torches. The ghostly shapes of icebound barges and ships loomed starkly into the night, and hundreds of people strolled among the many hastily erected booths and tents. Music seemed to come from everywhere, the notes of fiddles, drums, and penny whistles clashing into a single brash, cheerful noise which jarred the night. And all the while there was the laughter and shouting of people making merry.
She gazed in wonder at the incredible scene. There were swingboats, Punch and Judy shows, skittle alleys, a flat area where there was dancing and a little skating, there were wheels of fortune, printing presses, and numerous beer and gin tents, outside which ladies of doubtful virtue brazenly accosted any man who caught their eye. Leonie moved hesitantly to the very edge of the wharf. Where was Stella? She seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Chapter 29
Leonie didn’t know how long she’d been searching. She’d looked everywhere; she’d been jostled, pushed, sworn at, and propositioned; and now she was frightened, and becoming increasingly worried about Stella’s safety in this rough, indecorous place. Tired and cold, she paused in the shadow of a barge, gazing helplessly over the milling, noisy crowds. The endless clamor seemed to echo in her aching head, and she felt close to tears.
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and a dirty hand was clamped over her mouth as she was dragged back farther into the shadows. She was thrust back against the side of the barge, and found herself gazing in terror into the leering, drunken face of her assailant. He pressed against her. “Want some company, love?” His breath reeked of gin and she tried desperately to struggle free, but he merely tightened his hold, grinning and trying to kiss her.
As suddenly as he had seized her, he suddenly let go. He gave a grunt of pain and slumped onto the ice, lying there motionless at her feet, a little blood oozing from the blow he’d received on the back of the head. She stared down at him, still so terrified and shocked that she couldn’t move.
“You all right, love?”
Slowly she raised her eyes, and found herself looking into the concerned face of the young soldier who’d saved her. His scarlet uniform was bright even in the shadows.
“You all right, love?” he asked again.
“Y-yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’m all right.”
“I saw him grab you.” He looked curiously at her. “You’re not the usual run of it, are you? You don’t look to me the sort that should be out on her own at night.”
“I don’t. I mean….” She was still shaken. “Th-thank you for saving me.”
He grinned then. “Knight in shining armor, that’s me.” He looked puzzled again then. “Why are you all on your own here? It’s just asking for trouble, you know.”
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Your feller?”
“No. A girl. I teach at a seminary and she’s run away here tonight. I’m afraid for her.”
“I can see that. Well, I’ve nothing else to do, so I’ll help you, if you like. If I’m with you, you won’t be bothered.”
She gazed thankfully at him. “Would you do that for me?”
“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Besides, I like helping damsels in distress, especially if they’re pretty.” He prodded the unconscious drunkard with his boot. “He’ll be all right by and by. Bit of a headache, but that’s all.” He offered her his arm then. “Come on, we’ll set about looking for your runaway. What does she look like?”
As they walked away from the barge, she noticed that he had a limp, as if he had been badly wounded recently.
* * *
Stella was in the canvas enclosure where the whole sheep was being roasted. She’d been there for a long time now and she was becoming frightened. She didn’t care for the man and woman she was with—they didn’t seem very respectable—and there was no sign at all of Nadia. The charcoal smoke was getting in her eyes, making them sting, but she knew that the stinging wasn’t due only to the smoke; she was very close to tears as well. She wished more than anything that she was safely back at the seminary with Leonie and that everything was as it had been before it all went wrong. She wished that it was as it had been when she, Leonie, and Guy had set out to go to the theater. That had been good.
Stella’s guardians for the evening were acquaintances of the embassy’s obliging footman. The man was broad-shouldered and muscular, and his nose had once been broken in a prizefight. He was in his mid-thirties, with a fleshy face and thick lips, and like his friend at the embassy, he looked as if he could be persuaded to do anything, provided the price was right. His female companion was about the same age, although she endeavored to look a great deal younger. She wasn’t slender anymore, her hair was henna-rinsed, and she wore far too much rouge. There was a patch at the corner of her mouth, and when she walked she swung her hips in a way just as suggestive as the women Stella had noticed waiting outside the beer tents. Stella didn’t like her at all; she wasn’t sympathetic, and she seemed totally preoccupied with the thought that at any moment the ice would crack and they’d all be drowned. She dwelt on this dread so much that Stella was beginning to feel it would happen, and it was so terrifying a thought that in spite of the cold, beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead.
Even now the woman brought up the subject again, poking at the ice with her toe. “It’s goin’ to go, I just know it is.”
The man was irritated now. “It’s as firm as ‘Ampstead ‘Eath! For Gawd’s sake, Maisie, have some of this ‘ere mutton and shut up. We’re gettin’ good money for this little caper, and it ain’t as if we’ve got a lot to do!”
“I just don’t like this ice! We’re all goin’ to be drownded.”
She was overheard by the woman carving the mutton, a thin, wizened creature with a large, dirty mobcap and a clay pipe between her yellow teeth. “Drownded?” she said, her voice a little distorted because the pipe was clenched in her mouth all the time. “There was a feller drownded just back there by Blackfriars Bridge today.”
Maisie’s eyes widened. “What ‘appened?” she demanded.
“A plumber he was, name of Davis. He was carrying a load of lead piping and decided to cross over the ice. Vanished between two blocks of ice and ‘asn’t been seen since. There’s a few places like that—they looks safe enough, but before you know what’s ‘appening….” She snapped her fingers rather too expressively, grinning all the while at Maisie’s terrified face.
It was the last straw. Maisie dropped her mutton and gathered her skirts. “That’s it, I ain’t stoppin’ ‘ere another minute!”
“Aw, Maisie—” began the man.
“I don’t intend to be the second fool drownded ‘ere today!” she cried, pushing away through the crowds and out of the enclosure.
The man hesitated, glancing for a moment at Stella. Then he shrugged. He’d been paid already for getting the kid to the fair; what did she matter now? He hurried after Maisie, and the crowds seemed to fold over him as if he’d never been there.
Stella stared after them. “No!” she cried. “Don’t leave me!” She tried to push through as well, but the people didn’t part for her, she was too small. At last she managed to get out, but of her two guardians there was no sign. Terrified, she pressed back against the canvas side of the enclosure, tears pouring down her cheeks. She was afraid to leave that one place; she didn’t know what to do or whom to turn to. She sank slowly onto the ice, kneeling there, her face hidden in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept.
Leonie and the soldier had almost given up hope, when suddenly he noticed the pathetic little figure by the enclosure. “Is that her, miss?”
Leonie gave a gasp of relief. “Yes! Yes,
it is!” She ran toward her. “Stella? Stella, are you all right?”
Stella slowly took her hands away from her face, hardly daring to turn in the direction of the voice, but then she scrambled joyfully to her feet and hurled herself into Leonie’s arms, bursting into fresh tears, but of thankfulness now.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” murmured Leonie, holding her close. “I’m here now and you’re safe again.” She smiled at the soldier. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“That’s all right, miss, I’m glad to have been of service.”
Stella heard the strange male voice and looked up at him in surprise. Then she looked at Leonie. “But…where’s Edward?”
Leonie took her gently by the shoulders. “I neither know nor care, although tonight I’ve realized that for some reason he appears to be very interested in me. I’ve also realized that you, young lady, have a great deal of explaining to do.”
Stella’s lips quivered. “I know. Oh, Leonie, I wish I hadn’t been so silly, but it’s too late now, isn’t it? I’ve done just what they wanted me to, and now Uncle Guy will never want me home again.”
Leonie looked sadly at her. “You’re your own worst enemy, aren’t you? But you’re wrong about your uncle—he loves you very much and he does want you home with him again.”
“He won’t, not after he hears about tonight.”
“We might be able to get away with it,” said Leonie slowly. “I’m sure no one knew when we left the seminary, and if they still haven’t discovered we’re missing, we might be able to get back in as secretly as we left, Stella.”
Hope leapt into the girl’s eyes. “Do you really think we could?”
“It’s possible—only possible, mind. But, Stella…?”
“Yes?”
“If we succeed and I promise not to say anything to Sir Guy about tonight, you must promise something in return. It’s barely a week now before he goes to Poyntons, and he wants you to go with him, but you must give me your word that you’ll behave from now on and try to live in harmony with Imogen.”