Her mother nodded, but Cranford stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Might I have a word with Trelenny before I go, Mrs. Storwood?”
Since another of Mrs. Storwood’s firm beliefs was that men had a great deal more influence than women, she welcomed Cranford’s intervention. A word from him would set Trelenny straight almost as well as one from the girl’s father, she decided as she left the two of them together.
Trelenny stood with downcast head, biting her lip to still its trembling. Only when the door had closed did Cranford shake his head ruefully and laugh. “Dear God, I wish I could have overheard the whole scene!”
Startled, she lifted moist eyes to his face and said indignantly, “I thought you were angry with me.”
“I am,” he protested, still grinning. “What you did was brash, outrageous, and I would have expected nothing less of you. You are two of a kind, you and Jane, with too much liveliness for your own good.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and patted her eyes. “Would that my words of censure had such an effect on you. Then I wouldn’t have to be forever threatening you with dire consequences. Trelenny, I quite understand why you treated Mr. Rowle as you did; and I can’t say that I, in the same position, would not have done the same, but I don’t trust him not to cause trouble. You have given him a set-down that is bound to rankle, and he is just the type to spread some vicious rumor about you. It was he who told you that cock-and-bull story about Rissington and Bodford, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but I didn’t believe it.”
“And many people wouldn’t believe a lie about you, but some would, and I can’t view the possibility with any complacency. I’ll keep an ear open.”
“Thank you, Cranford. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.” She watched him return his handkerchief to his pocket. “You.. . you won’t be angry with Lady Jane, will you?”
“No, silly, I won’t be angry with Jane.” He rumpled her hair, smiling gently. “I have wanted to talk to you—”
The door flew open and Mrs. Waplington, beaming with pleasure and followed by a flustered Mrs. Storwood, hastened into the room. “The most wonderful thing has happened, Trelenny. Andrew must go to London for a month! How do you do, Mr. Ashwicke?”
Uncertain how to respond to such a greeting, Trelenny cast an enquiring look at her mother, who hesitantly took up the tale. “Mr. Waplington must leave for London next week on pressing business, and he plans to remain there a month. Elsa would like to take you with them and give you a taste of town life. I don’t know what your Papa would say, but it seems too good an opportunity to be wasted. Cranford could escort me home, as we had planned, and Elsa would arrange for an escort for you when it was time for you to return to Sutton Hall. It’s what you’ve dreamed of, I know, and possibly the only chance you will have.”
Trelenny’s eyes had glowed at the mention of going to London, but now they clouded. “Without you, Mama? Or Cranford?”
“I’ve promised your father I will return after our stay here, my love.”
Mrs. Waplington gave a throaty chuckle. “You needn’t worry, Trelenny. I shall take as good care of you as even your mother would. Ah, you’ll love London. And after the success you’ve had here, who knows? I could ask for no greater treat than to introduce you to society, my dear. Well, aren’t you thrilled?”
“I... yes! It’s just that I can hardly believe my good fortune, ma’am. You have no idea how I have dreamed of such a chance.” Trelenny clasped her mother’s hands. “Is it truly all right with you? You won’t fret or be miserable while I’m gone?”
“How can I when I know you are happy?” Mrs. Storwood declared stoutly. “There isn’t time to write your father but I think he would agree, don’t you, Cranford?”
Appealed to in such a way, Cranford resolutely put aside his own feelings and said, “Yes. He could have no objection to the scheme when Mrs. Waplington herself will be responsible for Trelenny.” So easily it was settled, but of the four only Mrs. Waplington knew unalloyed joy at the prospect.
If Mr. Rowle spread any rumors about Trelenny, Cranford did not hear them. His decision to speak to her seemed premature in the face of her proposed journey to London. Let her have all the chances she could to find happiness before he approached her with his own proposal, he counseled himself in the darkness of his room at nights. If Rissington or Bodford followed her to London...
These were matters he did not discuss with Lady Jane. If he was preoccupied in her company, she never mentioned the fact. Her delight at Trelenny’s coup with Rowle was untempered by his own sense of caution. “I hope you didn’t scold her, Cranford. For myself, I would have given a great deal to be there when he offered.”
“So would I,” he admitted. “Her mother said anything that was necessary on the occasion, and I merely pointed out that he might take an ugly revenge for such callous handling.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Well, Miss Storwood has enough champions to set the record straight, so I think we needn’t worry."
But Cranford did worry—from a distance. He continued to escort Lady Jane, occasionally relieving Mr. Wheldrake, but that gentleman was more than willing to accompany the Storwoods; and when he was not available, Mr. Waplington unfailingly stood in. Cranford noted that Mr. Rowle managed to avoid most of the entertainments to which the Storwoods went, but that he made no effort to efface himself in any other way. As the time for Trelenny’s departure for London drew closer, Cranford began to believe that his fears had had no basis.
The night of the Stanmores’ ball, he was not engaged to either the Storwoods or Lady Jane as escort and he determined to stop in at the White Hart for any mail which might have arrived since last he was there. An invitation to join a friend for a glass expanded into an hour of reminiscing about their younger days, and he was just on the point of departing when an arrival caught his attention. There was something familiar about the fellow’s face and unusual height, though in the dim hallway light he could not for a moment place him. When the landlord made a gesture toward Cranford, the gentleman turned and approached him with outstretched hand. “I am in luck, I see. I had hardly dared hope to still find you here.”
“Mr. Laytham! I trust your journey was successful.”
“Thanks to you and your friend,” the young man said with a smile. He gave instructions for his luggage to be carried up to a room and asked for a private parlor. “Won’t you join me for a moment? I can see you’re dressed for a formal occasion, but I beg you will allow me to return what is yours.”
The parlor to which they were shown was on the first floor overlooking the street, a snug room with the privacy Mr. Laytham deemed necessary for their conversation. When two glasses had been set before them and the waiter had withdrawn, he proposed a toast. “To Miss Storwood and Mr. Ashwicke, without whose assistance my wife and I could not have managed.” He stared at the glass for a moment after he had taken a sip, then set it down and pulled from his pocket a purse, which he handed to Cranford. “I was asking the landlord your direction so that I might return this, with all the thanks that are due you. That night shall always live with me as a symbol of horror…and of the miraculous. May I be struck down if ever I ignore an opportunity to help a fellow being in trouble!”
Cranford accepted the purse and set it before him. “I trust Mrs. Laytham is well.”
“Quite. I have left her with my family near Salisbury. She insisted that I come to search you out as soon as she was settled there. I have a letter from her to Miss Storwood, too, in my valise. Would you mind waiting while I get it?”
“Not at all.”
He returned in a few minutes to place the sealed sheet beside the purse. “Caroline has a great deal of sensibility and credits Miss Storwood with preserving her sanity that night. As I told you at the time, nothing but the most dire necessity would ever have forced me into such a decision as to elope, not only because of society’s view of such an action, but because Caroline herself strongly felt the
impropriety of what she was doing. Alas, we had no choice. Her stepfather and stepbrother had gone to Cambridge to arrange the marriage settlement with her guardian, who had no inkling that Caroline was an unwilling partner to the treaty. Her own mother is unable to withstand the pressure her husband brings to bear on her and has, I fear, been treated to his temper for having allowed my wife to escape.”
“Have you been to the Rowles’?”
“I’ve just come from there.” Mr. Laytham drew a weary hand across his brow. “I had hoped to effect a reconciliation with her mother, at least, if not with her stepfather, but he would listen to nothing I had to say, and refused to let me talk alone with his wife.”
“And the stepbrother?”
“He ignored me when I arrived, but I saw him later in the stables, ordering his traveling carriage.”
“His traveling carriage?” Cranford’s voice was sharp. “Do you know where he was going?”
“I have no idea,” Mr. Laytham replied, surprised by the intensity of Cranford’s regard.
“Tell me precisely what you saw and heard.”
“I had left my horse there when I went in to see Mr. and Mrs. Rowle, and when I came to get it his horses were being put to the traveling carriage. Before he saw me I heard him insist on another rug and that the basket of food be put in the carriage rather than on the box with the coachman.”
“Did he make any reference to a traveling companion?” Cranford was on his feet now, quickly thrusting the purse and letter into the pocket of his greatcoat.
Confused, Laytham tried to recall anything which might have given an indication. “No. Wait a moment! When the coachman mentioned a stain on the squabs, Rowle said something like, ‘Don’t bother with it. She won’t notice in the dark.’ Does that mean something?”
“Does he have a mistress?”
“None that I ever heard of.”
“Oh, God. And there was no mention of where he was heading?” Cranford pulled on his gloves and headed for the door, pausing for the answer.
“Only a stop in the Crescent, not the destination.”
“Damn him! Now listen carefully, Laytham. I need your help.”
“I’m at your service.” The young man was immediately on his feet.
“Mr. Rowle has offered for Miss Storwood and been turned down, and not in a manner which was likely to conciliate him. He believes her to be a great deal more of an heiress than she is, and your return is likely to presage his fall from grace in Bath. This hotbed of rumors won’t spare him in any way. If the whole story isn’t known, it can be invented, and not to his credit. He’ll have no more foothold in society.
“What you’ve told me leads me to believe that he intends to abduct Miss Storwood from the Stanmore ball in the Crescent. I may be wrong but I don’t care to take a chance. I have to know where they’re going if I don’t get there before he makes off with her. Will you go to the Rowles’ stables and find out what you can? Then come directly to the Crescent.” He dug the purse out of his pocket again. “Here. Use what you have to get the information you need.” Before Laytham could agree, he was gone.
* * *
Chapter 22
The Stanmores’ ball was in celebration of their daughter’s eighteenth birthday, and for this momentous occasion they had spared no expense. Every room glowed with candlelight, footmen appeared at one’s elbow the instant a glass needed refilling, the musicians were the finest Bath had to offer. Five rooms were entirely given over to the entertainment and several further ones as retiring rooms for the ladies and gentlemen. Trelenny had never seen so many jewels as flashed from ringed hands and encircled necks, sparkled amidst stylishly coiffured hair and on matronly bosoms. The fairy-tale scene was not, however, the reason she kept glancing about the room. Lady Jane was already here with the Earl, but there was no sign of Cranford. This was to be the last dancing party she would attend before she left for London with Mrs. Waplington and she had counted on Cranford to partner her for at least one waltz. She had planned to tease him about teaching her, had looked forward to being held in his arms.
The fact that Mr. Rowle had just arrived did not disturb her. She derived no further amusement from her escapade and only wished to forget the entire incident. As she joined another set she was aware of his gaze briefly on her but she pretended not to notice. When she chanced to look in his direction again, he was no longer there. A few minutes later a footman approached as she and Mr. Inglestone were about to go up the dance.
“Miss Storwood?”
“Yes.”
“There is a messenger from Westmorland at the back door asking for you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Asking for me?” Trelenny knew a moment’s panic— what could it be but a man sent from her father and directed on from Henrietta Street—and she tried to still the wild beating of her heart before she spoke. “Take me to him.” She excused herself to her partner and looked about the room for her mother, but could not see her. Was the news so desperate that her father (or someone else—awful thought) felt it must be broken more gently to her mother? Trelenny hastened down halls and stairways, past a multitude of busy servants all intent on their own occupations. The footman never paused, though he occasionally glanced behind him to make sure that she followed. She could hear the clatter below in the kitchens and the aromas of a dozen different dishes assailed her nostrils, though she barely noticed. The rear door on the ground floor was open and she could see a youth in riding garb, a bundle under his arm, his cap pulled down over his forehead, stomping to warm himself in the chill night air. No torch was lit without to throw its illuminating light on his face.
What happened next was so sudden that she could never afterwards recall in precisely what order events occurred. She was about to invite the lad into the warm hallway when the footman, who had stepped back to let her speak with the messenger, firmly thrust her out the door. A hand was clasped over her mouth, a voluminous, hooded cape thrown about her, and she was bundled into a waiting carriage while murmurs of doctors and ladies being ill seemed to pass illusorily through the darkness outside. The carriage door had scarcely closed when the vehicle lurched forward and gained momentum even as they rounded a corner, swaying dizzily. A hand remained over her mouth, muffling her cries, until it was replaced by a scarf tied behind her head.
With glowering eyes she recognized Mr. Rowle seated opposite to her but he paid little heed until he had concluded his instructions to the two other occupants of the carriage, who were set down several blocks further on to return to his house in Lower Borough Walls.
Now he turned to her and asked with exaggerated politeness, “Will you promise not to call for help if I remove the scarf?” When she did not nod, he shrugged. “Have your own way. It’s a small matter and I would rather not trust to your word in any case. I wouldn’t do that!” He clamped a hand tightly onto her wrist as she raised it to untie the scarf herself. “Let us understand each other from the start, Miss Storwood. From now on you will do exactly as I tell you if you wish to remain comfortable.”
The measured, menacing tones had a certain effect. Trelenny did not doubt that he was capable of any villainy, but she could not resist a touch of bravado. Sitting up straight against the squabs, she folded her hands in her lap and twiddled her thumbs. Her initial impulse—to kick him—she restrained.
“I have always found,” he mused, “that the lengthy process of laying plans and expanding them is fraught with danger. The chance of their being detected is magnified with each passing day. On the other hand, an idea brilliantly conceived and quickly executed seldom fails. See how smoothly my simple maneuver has gone. A ball night— dozens of unfamiliar servants about the house, hundreds of guests each intent on their own enjoyment—what could be better? I had only to see that your mother was not close by, introduce my footman, and the rest followed as night the day. I shall feel truly put out with your mother if she raises an outcry, but I think it unlikely. And even if she does, it will be on
ly a matter of time before the whole of town realizes that you have run away with me. No one will be surprised, Miss Storwood. People have seen you welcome my attentions at a dozen assemblies and parties; Lady Babthorpe will recall your kissing me in the Sydney Gardens. And no one doubts that you’re a romp, prime for a bit of mischief.”
Trelenny’s hands clenched tightly in her lap but she did no more than level a cold stare at him.
“You think you won’t marry me?” He laughed. “You will. You have no choice, my dear. From all your mother has said, I gather that any shock is likely to aggravate your father’s condition. And I think certainly the shock of knowing his daughter has spent a night in a man’s. . . company would sadly discompose him, were there not the mitigating effects of a marriage performed soon afterwards—in your mother’s presence, of course. That will make it all right and tight with society.”
He glanced out the window where the ghostly shapes of lone trees dotted the countryside. “I am going to remove the scarves now and you may make as much uproar as you wish, but it will do you no good. There is no one to hear you but my coachman and myself and I promise you we are not the least likely to be moved.”
Her mouth felt dry and swollen when the scarf was removed. For some time she sat saying nothing, battling a desire to put her head down and cry. “Where are you taking me?”
“It is not necessary that you should know, but disillusion yourself of the idea that anyone will find you. We are not taking the road to Bristol or London, which would seem the logical routes of a runaway couple. This is my part of the country, Miss Storwood, and I know a half dozen villages off the main road where there are inns.”
“I doubt an honest landlord would welcome an unwilling guest.”
“For the right price, there are few who wouldn’t accept one,” he retorted cynically. “However, it won’t be necessary for us to search one out. There is a fellow who would be more than willing to settle his obligation to me for so small a price.”
Holiday in Bath Page 22