by Carie, Jamie
An hour later they were stepping out of John's carriage at the grand entrance to the Bank of Ireland. Alex snapped the parasol shut while John held the door open for her. Baylor loomed behind them. "Look intimidating," John whispered back toward him.
His eyes widened with a look of fear. "How do I do that?"
"Never mind." Alex patted his arm. "Just be yourself."
That didn't seem to make Baylor any less nervous.
They walked up the steps and through the big doors. Inside was a long lobby with offices on either side, marbled floors, and tall, echoing ceilings. Alex tried to slow the pounding of her heart as they made their way to one of the main desks.
A mild-looking man gazed up at them, then peered behind Alex at Baylor, his eyes widening in just the way they'd been hoping for, but then Baylor gave the man a vacant, fake-looking smile and boomed, "How do you do, good sir! It's a fine day, isn't it?"
Alex shot a stilling glance at him and John quietly groaned. Baylor was taking his role much too seriously. He might ruin everything!
Trying to regain the banker's attention, Alex pasted a sunny smile on her face and leaned in a bit. He stood and bowed at them. "Good day. How might I be of service?"
John jumped in with his supporting role. "Good day to you, sir. This is Lady Alexandria Featherstone here visiting from England and I am Lord John Lemon, of the Kilkenny Lemons." He flicked a hand toward Baylor. "And this is our good friend Baylor of Belfast."
"I've already said how-de-do to the man. Am I supposed to say it again?" Baylor boomed, his voice echoing around the huge domed ceiling. It actually looked as if his meaty hands were trembling.
Alex gave the banker, who was staring at the three of them in confused distrust, another smile and a little exhale. "He's just a little nervous. Uhm." Oh no, this was not going well at all.
John hurried in again. "We've come on an urgent matter that has to do with the Duke of St. Easton."
The man blinked several times, glancing from John to Alexandria to Baylor and back again. "Well, ah, please be seated." He motioned toward the chairs nearby.
Baylor looked at the small chair, started to sit in it, and then changed his mind. It didn't appear as if he would be able to get his hips between the wooden arms. John said a soft word that Alex was certain she was glad she hadn't clearly heard. "Just stand behind us," he hissed.
Alex actually found herself waving at the banker to gain his attention, smiling and blinking, her head cocked to one side in the manner of a pea brain. "You see," Alex began as she folded her hands in her lap to keep them from doing anything else strange, "I am the ward of the Duke of St. Easton. He and I have been corresponding through letters for some time now and discussing the fact that he will be joining me here in Ireland. He had, some weeks ago, given me bank notes for my allowance, but I fear I was robbed in Killyleagh and am in quite a quandary."
Alex pulled forth a beaded reticule and removed the duke's letters. She passed two over to the banker. "As you can see from the seal and the contents of the letter, the duke is holding my fortune in the Bank of England. I have not been able to reach him with the news of this horrid theft, but when I do, I am sure he will send more funds. In the meantime, I would like to open a line of credit to sustain me for the duration of my stay in Dublin."
"Ah." The man opened the letters, read them, then studied the seal. His face was hard to read but Alex feared the worst and looked to John for help.
"My good man, the duke is in Ireland, and will eventually come to Dublin. I can't imagine his . . . displeasure . . . should his ward not be taken the very best care of in this matter." John shuddered. "It doesn't bear thinking of."
The man paled and nodded. "I shall have to check with my superior. Please, wait here."
He disappeared toward the back of the vast room and then through an arched doorway. Alex gave John a hopeful smile but stayed silent.
Baylor didn't have the same common sense. "That was a fine piece of work, my lord. You put the fear in him, didn't you now?"
"Shhh!" They both hissed back at him.
Alex felt instantly sorry. His face became crestfallen and his shoulders drooped. Good heavens she would be glad when this was over.
They waited in intense silence for a full twenty minutes when the banker came back with an older gentleman. His keen gaze locked on Alexandria's, making her knees shake as she rose and gave a brief curtsey toward the man.
"Mr. Tyler has explained the situation, Lady Featherstone, and we are prepared to extend you two hundred pounds. Will that be sufficient?"
His gaze challenged hers and she got the distinct impression that he was a betting man and that two hundred pounds was all he was willing to bet on the authenticity of her tale. Alex thought of the fortune she should have every right to, the fortune left to her by her parents, and raised her chin a notch. Her gaze didn't falter for a moment; it held steady, a glint of steel coming to her eyes. "I'm afraid that won't do. I have no idea when the duke will arrive and there are . . . expenses. Five hundred pounds should tide me over with, of course, the possibility of more should the need arise." She pressed her lips into a tiny smile and waited.
"Five hundred pounds." He looked astonished but seemed to be considering it.
"Yes." She nodded once.
He took a long breath. "Very well, Lady Featherstone. You will, of course, sign for it."
"Of course."
He nodded to Mr. Tyler. "See that it's done." And he strode away, not looking very happy.
John leaned toward her ear and whispered, "Well done," as the other man hurried to fetch the papers.
"Well done!" Baylor added in an overly dramatic whisper.
Alex smiled through gritted teeth. "I'll have one hundred in bank notes and coin, if you please. The rest will be drawn upon by lines of credit with merchants and such."
"Yes, your ladyship."
Within minutes she had a reticule full of money and the three of them were back on the street, smiling in victory at each other.
"I feel the need to celebrate." John took her arm and started them in the direction of the College Green. "Let's go find a bite to eat, shall we? And then we'll do a little shopping for the musical tonight."
"John, you'll have my money spent in a single afternoon!" Alex laughed and playfully slapped his arm.
"I'm fronting the meal, love. But I'm sure you'll want to buy some fripperies from the shops. A new fan? A colorful scarf? Irish lace? You've not experienced Dublin until you've gone along the quay and seen all the lovely Irish wares to be had."
"Oh, very well." Alex looked up at him with adoring eyes. It was so easy to get distracted from her mission when on the arm of such an elegant, entertaining gentleman.
Baylor decided that the encounter at the bank had exhausted him and he needed a nap, so they put him in a hired carriage and bid him sweet dreams while Alex and John headed for the shops along the quay. The afternoon sped by as they made their way along the streets lining the River Liffey. True to his word, John showed her every kind of shop—millinery to confectionary, furniture, linens, market houses with various kinds of seafood and vegetables, cakes and pies. There was an auction going on at one corner.
They stopped and watched the bidding on a prized painting by John Henry Campbell of Glendalough, County Wicklow. Alex stared at the soft blue mountains in the background, the lake peeping in front of them with hills of green in the foreground. It was exactly what Ireland looked like. She instantly liked it. Might someday she have a warm and inviting home where she could hang such a thing?
It was the first time she'd ever thought of it.
John leaned near her ear. "You like it don't you, Alexandria?"
She looked up at him, into his blue-gray eyes, and wrinkled her brow. "I do. Is it by a famous artist? I know little about art."
/>
"Campbell is popular here. If you were my wife, I would buy it for you this instant."
There was a note of seriousness in his voice that gave Alexandria pause. He had always been so teasing, so glib and full of fun that this new side of him intrigued and frightened her a little. This was not the right time to be courting anyone. She had a mission and she couldn't let herself forget it.
Trying for lightness she touched his arm and teased, "And what if your wife likes five other paintings besides, and that lovely desk we saw at the last shop, and there were those sapphire earrings at the silversmith's."
John gave her a look that said he knew what she was doing and admired her ability to turn the topic toward her ends, even though he might want to hint at the possibility of something more serious between them. He joined her joke. "A weekly shopping expedition. Why, our house will be so full of things that we'll barely squeeze by each other passing down the hall."
Alex laughed and the moment passed. They continued down the quay, the river at low tide and the crowd moving up and down the street in an ever-steady flow of traffic and people. Alex felt strangely alive, stepping into this other world where there was more than a herd of sheep or the latest village gossip to think of. She found she liked it. She liked it very much. They finally decided it was time to go and dress for the dinner and the musical at the Rotunda.
Another first, Alex reflected as, hours later, she looked at herself in the mirror wearing the red evening gown. It was satin trimmed with black lace, high waisted with a square-cut neckline that made her collar bones stand out and her neck look long and stately. Or maybe it was the pulled back hair piled on top of her head, shining with pomade that smelled faintly of lavender that she'd helped Reagan, John's maid, prepare.
It had been fun mixing the ingredients, reminding her of times at home when she had gathered herbs and berries and sweeter-smelling plants to try and mix with the tallow candles and soaps. She'd even made some pretty little pots of rouge and placed them in the market shop on Holy Island. It had caused a bit of a scandal, but she'd sold them in three days and they'd asked for more. Her lip stain had sold out in two days. Over the years she'd made perfumed oils, cosmetics, soaps, and candles. It gave her something to do during the long, lonely hours when her parents were gone.
She sighed a dreamy sigh as she pulled on her gloves. She'd never looked like this though. She looked like her mother.
The thought changed her excitement into determination. This night was not just for fun, she reminded herself. John had promised to introduce her to anyone he could who was a member of the Royal Irish Academy. As wonderful as the music would prove to be, and as nice as it felt to be escorted by one of Dublin's most handsome and eligible bachelors, Alex lifted her chin in the mirror and reminded herself of her mission.
Please God, help me find my parents.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Meade stood waiting for him in the Dufferin Coaching Inn's common room when Gabriel returned, still shaken by his discovery and turning the possibilities over and over in his mind. Might he practice this new gift? Would he someday enjoy the opera again? The thought of never hearing music again had not been worth considering—it was too painful. Now, the possibility that he might not have to felt like God had stretched a line of hope down from heaven. Perhaps God's love was perfect and he just hadn't learned to recognize all the signs of it yet.
He was still in somewhat of a daze as he sat across from his secretary. Meade took the speaking book and wrote of his findings.
Yes, there had been a coach hired under Admiral Montague's name. It left three days ago, heading for the little town of Downpatrick, just south of Killyleagh. The roads, he was told, were in terrible shape, but horses would have a better time of it. When I asked if the man knew why they were going there, he shook his head and said that folks have their own business to attend to and he doesn't pry. I persevered with a few coins and he was persuaded to say that he dropped them off at Down Cathedral.
Gabriel braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a finger. Why would she go to some little out-of-the-way town? And to a cathedral? It didn't make any sense. He needed to sleep on it—too muddled, too exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. They would travel there for answers tomorrow.
THE NEXT MORNING THEY HEADED off toward Downpatrick riding south along the shore of Strangford Lough, through the Quoile marshes and across the river. Worry gnawed at his stomach as he considered this latest direction. It was taking much longer than he had anticipated to locate Alexandria, and there was the army waiting back at Holy Island. He knew they had no news; he'd pointed them in the wrong direction after all, and he hadn't sent them any news.
It had been weeks now and the captain must be getting impatient. How long he would wait was an important question. Soon, if he hadn't already, he would abandon his post and head back to London and that would not be good. Not good at all. Gabriel imagined him going to the prince regent, telling his side of the story. It was not going to advance Gabriel's case. Might even look like what it really was—a ruse.
Not that he wasn't trying to locate his willful ward and haul her back to London. Oh no, he was looking more and more forward to the moment when he had her within his grasp. But the plan to scatter the army and go off alone with only Meade? The prince regent might not be pleased with him for that. And the fact that he had thus far failed and that Alexandria was gallivanting about the United Kingdom with Spaniards on her tail? And that it appeared she was being successful in tracking down every clue her parents had left on the Emerald Isle? Well, it wouldn't do at all for the prince regent to hear all of that. He gritted his teeth with the thought. It grated, no infuriated him, that a slip of a woman had so outplayed him.
Wait a minute.
Gabriel reined in his horse and looked over at Meade, waiting for him to command his horse to stop.
"Meade, that coachman that you questioned."
Meade nodded, his brows coming together.
"Did he hesitate at any time when you questioned him?"
Meade shook his head.
"When he said they went to Downpatrick . . . did he say Downpatrick immediately?"
Meade nodded, brows raised.
"What about when you paid him and he said he dropped them off at the cathedral. Any difference when he said that?"
Meade cocked his head to one side in thought. He did hesitate then. I just thought he was reluctant to answer, Meade mouthed.
"Or, he was making it up as he went along. Meade, I'm afraid our dear Alexandria is trying to buy herself a little more time by sending us on another wild-goose chase. Wherever she has gone, it isn't Downpatrick."
"Shouldn't we go and see, just in case?"
"No. We'll go back to Killyleagh and see if we can't convince our good coachman to talk." Gabriel smiled with narrowed eyes. "Come along."
He wheeled his horse around and spurred him into a gallop, hoping Meade could keep up with the fast pace.
BACK IN KILLYLEAGH, MEADE LED the way to the coaching house. Mr. Kelly, the coachman Meade had spoken to, was polishing a shiny black carriage in the drive. Gabriel went over and grasped the man by the collar, lifting him off his feet until they were eye to eye.
Kelly gasped and kicked out, striking Gabriel on the shin. Gabriel didn't even feel it. He pushed the man back, causing Kelly to land on his back, sprawled on the ground.
He said something, looked like it might have been, "What's the meaning of this," but he didn't try to get up.
Gabriel leaned over him. "I believe you've been lying to my secretary," he stated in a serious and low voice.
Kelly looked aside toward Meade, his face going white. "Meade tells me you said Admiral Montague and his party went to Downpatrick, to the cathedral there. I've decided it unlikely so I thought you should accompany us to Downpatrick,
and should it prove to be a lie, well, I shouldn't want to be in your position. You see, I'm the Duke of St. Easton here on the prince regent's business. The prince regent would not be forgiving should he learn of any who are impeding my mission. Do you understand?"
Kelly started talking—fast. Blubbering actually. Gabriel couldn't keep up with it and looked over to Meade who was nodding. Meade turned toward Gabriel and mouthed the words, She paid him to lie.
"Where is she?" Gabriel demanded once the man's mouth stopped moving.
"I don't know, I swear." Gabriel caught that. The man was obviously terrified so he believed him. Gabriel leaned over him and glared at him. "If it comes to you, anything at all, we are staying at the Dufferin Coaching Inn. I imagine I can forgive the lie if you remember something more, something important."
He nodded, eyes wide with fear, as Gabriel backed away.
WHEN THEY GOT BACK TO the inn, Mistress Tinsdale ran toward them, waving a letter. "I'm so glad you've come back, Your Grace. We just found this letter in the trash bin. I confess I read it as I recognized Lady Featherstone's handwriting and thought it might be important, what with that mystery she's trying to solve with her parents and those Spanish men following her, don't you know. It's addressed to you." She thrust it into his hands as if it were on fire.
Gabriel turned toward the light of a window and smoothed it out. His heart pounded as he read.
Dear Gabriel,
Hmm. She only called him by his given name when she planned for him never to see the letter.
I despise lying to you. I loathe myself over it. Yet I cannot give up my search and you are tied with the prince regent and the prince regent has his demands. Do you not understand? I would give up my life for this search. I will do, and have done, things I'm not proud of to continue it. It's just that I didn't know I would be beset on every side and that so many would see my mission as foolish and self-indulgent and wish I'd give up all hope. I ask you to search your heart, dear duke. If you were in my position, what would you do?