by Joan Smith
"Where shall we drop you off, ma'am?" he asked next.
"Belgrave Square," she answered, despondent.
Chapter Sixteen
Her arrival at the home of the Halfords in Belgrave Square caused a major shock. "Vanessa—my dear, what in the world ...!" Mrs. Halford exclaimed, looking at her bedraggled appearance. Aunt Halford had a concern for fashion not far behind Elleri Simons. Her gown and coiffure were of the latest kick, but her sagging face and overstuffed body did nothing to enhance them.
"It is a long story, Auntie. Could I have a bath and borrow some clean clothes before I tell you the whole? To satisfy your curiosity, I shall just tell you I have had a very disagreeable few days."
"But what happened?''
"I was kidnapped," she answered. "I managed to escape—that is, I was rescued by a Colonel Landon, whom my father sent after me."
"Colonel Landon! Nessie, what marvelous luck! He will fall in love with you for a certainty. So very handsome and clever. All of London is puffing him up, since he is come home from India covered with medals and ribbons. What is he like?"
"He is rather like Papa," she replied, with a bemused smile. "He is not particularly handsome. In fact, I found him plain, at first," she added, with a smile that suggested her like of plainness.
"Yes, my dear, but what is he like?"
"You may judge for yourself when he comes to call. I expect he may be here this evening."
"Coming here! Delightful! I'll be the envy of them all. Sit down this instant and tell me all about it," her aunt commanded, her brightly curious eyes shining in her sagging face. "Wine—we shall have a glass of wine while you tell me."
Without much reluctance, Vanessa sat down and accepted a glass of wine. "I cannot tell you everything. It is to do with Bonaparte, you see. Top secret."
"I knew you were in great jeopardy on the coast. You ought to have come to me months ago, when first the villain began building those nasty flatboats."
"I could not leave Papa alone, and you know what chance there would be of dragging him away when he had such exciting things to do at home."
"That is true. Henry is a fire horse. When he sees an army preparing, he reaches for his musket. I think he likes fighting and shooting and killing people."
"Someone has to do it," Vanessa answered sharply. "I think he is a hero."
"Never mind that, but only tell me all about your kidnapping."
"Aunt Elleri and myself had to ... Oh, dear. Aunt Elleri! I have scarcely given her a thought since morning. I hope she is all right."
"Where is she? Was she not kidnapped with you? No, of course she was not, or she would be here. Landon would never rescue you and leave her behind."
"No, he thinks of everything."
"I should hope so indeed. A fine hero that would be, to leave her behind. Where is she?"
"At Colchester."
"The widgeon, going off on a visit just when you need her. I never thought her a proper chaperone for you, Nessie. She thinks of nothing but gowns and shoes, and a very unattractive outfit she has chosen too, if you will forgive my saying so, dear. You must not be seen in public in such an ancient gown. It don't fit at all well. You will be condemned as a quiz."
"William Pitt did not take exception to it!"
"I never heard he had set up as an arbiter of style," was her comment upon hearing her niece had spoken to the prime minister. "What is she doing at Colchester?" was the next question.
"I don't know," Vanessa replied, her mind beginning to explore this question. Soon she had an awful vision of what her aunt would be doing in the very near future. Carlisle would discover there was no trunk on the stage—had already discovered it. He would scan the possible places the letter could be, and he would conclude it was still in Colchester. He would go back, and her poor aunt sat like a fly in a web, with no notion the man was a scoundrel.
"I have got to leave," she said, arising up from her chair.
"Yes, my dear, I shall have the servants draw a hot bath, but about your adventure ..."
"I need the loan of your carriage, Auntie, and a couple of stout footmen."
"Nessie! Female servants will help you with your bath."
"I am not taking a bath now. I have to go out."
"You cannot be seen on the streets in that anachronism of a gown. There is no point asking it. I forbid it. Loose black robes are not at all the thing this or any other year."
"I should send a note to Colonel Landon, telling him where I am, in case he does not think of it. But of course he will," she added with a perfectly confident smile.
"He knows you are here, child. You said he would call this evening."
"Where I am going, is what I mean."
"You are not going anywhere but upstairs to have a bath and get out of that ugly robe. Mine will not fit much better, but at least they ain't black."
"Auntie, it is a matter of life and death."
"I know, Nessie, but there is no death in the family, so there is no need to wear black. Goodness, as if I did not know at my age that black is worn for mourning."
"Please call your carriage. I must go at once."
"I will not do any such foolish thing."
"Then I must, and pray do not forbid it, or I shall steal it, as Landon did."
"What, Landon steal my carriage? You are mad. He did nothing of the sort. I would have noticed if one was missing. I only have the two."
Without further ado, Vanessa bolted from the room to ask the butler to have the carriage brought around immediately, with two of the strongest footmen in the house ready to accompany her. Her aunt was at her heels, forbidding loudly.
"My dear aunt, if you want Miss Simons' death on your head, then withhold your carriage. I promise you I will run into the street and take the first one I find standing idle."
"Vanessa, you will land in Bridewell."
"Then you had better let me have your rig."
"She has run mad. Totally demented. Call the carriage. I wash my hands of her."
"Will you come with me?" Vanessa asked as she waited for the carriage's appearance at the door.
"Certainly not. I am attending a ball this evening."
"That sounds familiar," Miss Bradford said.
"Really? What ball are you attending?"
"None."
"You are perfectly welcome to come if you wish. Maybe Colonel Landon will stand up with you. He is bound to be there if he is in town. Everyone was bemoaning his departure."
"He won't be there."
Till the carriage appeared, Vanessa listened to the most foolish and irrelevant series of remarks she had heard since leaving her aunt at Colchester. Several scandalous pieces of gossip were told her, but she was not listening. She was thinking that at last she was doing something Colonel Landon would approve of. He would realize she was not just a selfish, silly girl, but a woman of character.
"Do you have a gun?" was the only thing she said to her aunt.
"Of course I have a gun. I would not be without a gun in the house. I do not allow any ammunition, however. It would be much too dangerous. Someone could get hurt."
"Never mind. I'll stop and find a constable before I go to the inn."
"Nessie, where are you going that you require a gun? You must not rob an inn, my dear. If you are short of funds, I will be happy to help you out till quarter day. Your reputation will be in tatters if you get caught."
"I don't intend to get caught this time."
"This time! Are you brass-faced enough to stand and tell me to my face you make a habit of it! Dear God, and using my carriage. I will be taken for an accomplice. I shall end up on the gibbet. I know it."
Aunt Halford sank on to a chair and fanned herself strenuously with a limp handkerchief. She was not at all sorry to see the back of her niece. The girl had run mad, and it was a great pity she should be using her own carriage to execute her wild scheme. Colonel Landon would be disgusted with her. An excellent parti lost to the family. Her next t
hought was how she could conceal having any part in the affair herself. If they said in the papers her carriage had been used, she would sue. No, she wouldn't, though. She would report it missing, at once! Stolen from the stables, but not by her niece, of course.
With the two sturdy footmen mounted behind and a hefty groom handling the ribbons, the carriage was off. They had been given the direction and told to drive at top speed. Getting out of London was the slowest and most annoying part of the trip. Vanessa went over her plan, testing to see if she was correct to return to Colchester.
Carlisle had searched herself and her belongings and not found the letter. He would go back to the cottage first to look for it—to try to force the information from her. Seeing she had escaped, he must assume the letter was still back at the inn at Colchester. Where else could it possibly be? He might think she had put it in the post, but he would at least go back and try his luck at the inn. He would suspect Elleri Simons had taken over its delivery. He would follow her if she had left, and if she were still there ... Well, she knew now how Carlisle operated.
She should have told Elleri where she was going, before she left. What must her poor aunt have been thinking, all that long day? At least she had been in no danger. Not till Carlisle got back would the danger occur. She looked at her watch, wondering, worrying that he would be there before her.
Once out of city traffic, the pace increased till she was being bounced helplessly around in the carriage, like a rag doll in a child's wagon. Ordinarily, it might have made her ill, but on this occasion she felt such a sense of exhilaration and danger she did not mind in the least. Her only regret was that she was alone. It would have been more enjoyable with Colonel Landon by her side. She thought he would not be far behind her. Frequent looks out the carriage window failed to find him. There were many yellow curricles, but the one stolen from Mr. Brown was not amongst them.
As they approached the side road leading to Mrs. Euston's cottage, she pulled the check string to slow the carriage, but there was no sign of either Carlisle or the men Landon had sent. Her best chance of beating Carlisle to Colchester was to plunge on, and really she was not at all eager to see again the scene of her misery.
When the team slowed down from fatigue, they stopped to change horses. They were at the midpoint of their trip. No one there had any information about Carlisle having passed, but this was hardly remarkable. There were many choices of a stop. She took advantage of the delay to speak to the footmen, who were to help her.
"One of you is to stop off at the constable's office in Colchester and bring an armed officer to the inn. The other will come with me inside. We shall speak to the clerk there and see where my aunt is, and whether Carlisle or Mrs. Euston has been asking for her. He is extremely dangerous. Till the armed constable arrives, we shall do nothing but discover his location. I shall listen at my aunt's door, and if the situation is desperate, if they are threatening or hurting her, I'll pound on the door and create a disturbance. Very likely they will have a gun to loan me at the inn," she said hopefully.
The footmen settled between them which was to run for the constable, and they both agreed an inn would not be without a weapon. She felt very brave and efficient as she made all the arrangements for her aunt's rescue and the villains' capture. She was undecided in her mind whether it would be more glorious to present Landon with a fait accompli, hand the prisoners to him in manacles, or to let him watch with wonder as she managed the affair with the sangfroid of a seasoned campaigner. Having a fair notion which of them would do the managing if he were present, she decided her preference was to accomplish the entire deed before his arrival.
She got back into the carriage, the footmen mounted behind, and they continued on their way, their pace quickened again with the fresh team. It was already evening when they reached the town. Having no idea where the constable's office was to be found, they drove down the main street once, without discovering it. They had to stop to enquire of a pedestrian, who pointed up a side street. One would think the constable would be located on the main street, easy to find. The chosen footman hopped down from his perch at the carriage's rear to deliver an armed constable to them, at top speed. The carriage returned to the inn.
The lobby was busy, with dinner guests descending from their rooms, and others coming in off the street. The clerk was not at his post at the desk. After several minutes' searching, he was found, and condescended to examine his records. Yes, a Miss Simons was still registered in the White Rose Suite.
"Have you seen her about recently?" Vanessa asked.
Very scanty civility was offered a young lady who stood before the clerk in what he supposed to be her grandmother's gown. Had she not been accompanied by a liveried footman, she felt sure she would have been politely requested to leave the premises.
"My dear young lady," the clerk said, "I do not recognize by sight every client who stops with us for a day or two. She is registered—that is all I can tell you. Go to her suite, and see if she is in."
"Naturally I mean to do so," she retaliated, her eyes flashing, "and I shall report your insolence to the proprietor as well."
"I am the proprietor."
She sniffed. "Then will you be good enough to tell me if Mr. Carlisle is also registered," she said, in her loftiest manner.
"Mr. Carlisle has been registered for two days, miss."
"He left this morning."
"You are mistaken. I saw him not a quarter of an hour ago. I could well do without such customers as Carlisle and Kiley, making disturbance in my rooms, calling constables, annoying my clients."
"Is Kiley here too?" she asked, her heart lurching in hope despite her daydream of settling the business without him.
"He slipped out last night, before the boy arrived with the constable."
"If he comes back, tell him to go directly to Miss Simons' suite."
"If he comes back, I shall personally usher him out the door."
"You must not!"
His supercilious smile deteriorated to a sneer. "Is there anything else, miss?"
She tossed her head and left, without replying. Then she went at a dragging gait to the stairway. "You had better go back and ask him for a gun,'' she said to the footman. She knew he would not hand it over to her if he had one.
"Yes, ma'am," the footman said. The alacrity with which he departed told her he was no more eager for the coming confrontation than she was herself. Really it made much better sense to wait for the constable's arrival. She looked up the stairs, looked around the lobby for a sign of Carlisle, half hoping and half dreading she would see him.
At least she knew he was here, and he did not know she was. That gave her a slight advantage. She looked back to the desk, to see the footman pleading with the clerk, who shook his head in a determined negative. Whoever thought it would be so difficult to be a heroine? The whole world was in league to prevent her. And why did not the constable come? He was only a few blocks away.
Meanwhile, her aunt sat alone and unaware of the danger Carlisle presented. Vanessa would tiptoe up to her door and put her ear to it. There could not be much danger in that. If all was silent, she would enter, and tell Elleri she must bar her door at once, or possibly it would be best for them to go down to the busy lobby.
She went reluctantly up the stairs, looked down the empty hallway to a series of closed doors. One opened, causing her flesh to crawl with fear. It was only a lady and gentleman who came out, laughing and talking together.
"They must be drunk," the lady said.
"Shocking behavior. The world's going to the dogs," the man answered.
Vanessa discerned no importance in these speeches. While the couple were still in view, offering some security by their mere presence, she scampered quickly to her aunt's door. There was silence within. She reached for the knob, then decided it would be better to peek in the keyhole first, as a precaution. The two customers had passed on down the stairs from view. She bent down, to see the key was in the hole, b
locking her view.
The reassuring silence assumed a menacing aura. Suppose Carlisle had already been and gone—done his work, left Elleri wounded, or dead. Her brow was damp with fear, and within her body was a quaking that set every limb trembling. Did soldiers feel like this before a battle? she wondered.
Chapter Seventeen
Her shaking fingers reached for the knob; before they touched it, a voice raised in anger issued through the door. She jumped back as though she had been burned. The voice was followed by a loud rattle, as someone—surely not Elleri!—hit the door. It shook in its frame, before her eyes. Fear, caution, common sense—all were overcome in the fraction of a second. She hardly trembled as she flung the door wide and took a step inside. Her first view was of her aunt, safe for the moment but backed cowering into a corner, with a look of helpless terror in her eyes.
"What have you done to her?" she demanded, turning to the left, where a shadow of a man had already been seen from the corner of her eye.
"Colonel Landon!" she exclaimed joyfully, till she noticed his expression was very little different from her aunt's.
"Get out!" he shouted. He held a pistol, which was aimed in her direction. Her world was turned upside down again. Would she never sort out this muddle?
"I will not!"
There was a blurring movement just at the edge of her vision. A man slid silently out from behind the door, grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of him. It was not necessary to look to know his identity. Of course it was Carlisle. His voice confirmed it.
"Throw it down, Landon," he said.
Landon hesitated an instant, a wary, calculating light in his eyes.
"Toss it on to the bed, or your lady friend is dead."
Landon threw his pistol to the bed. Elleri Simons looked from one of them to the other, while Vanessa too surveyed the scene around her, looking for Mrs. Euston. If Carlisle was alone, surely the three of them could overpower him. She noticed the window was open, the curtains blowing in the breeze. One of the men had entered by that means, thus avoiding any curious onlookers in the hallway or lobby.