Earl to the Rescue

by Jane Ashford

  Blane looked at her sardonically. “Does it matter?” he replied.

  Realizing that the kind of ceremony that joined her to this monster was, after all, irrelevant, Gwendeline subsided.

  The man at the altar appeared nervous and gestured for them to hurry. He looked about the room and fingered the book he held. “Come along,” he said finally.

  “You speak English,” Gwendeline remarked in surprise.

  The man looked vexed, glanced toward Blane, then nodded shortly. He opened the book to a place marked in it and again gestured to them to approach. They stood before him at the altar, the two witnesses behind them, and he started to read the marriage service.

  The forms of the ceremony were a little strange to Gwendeline, but familiar enough to make her heart sink. She’d never expected to hear these words in such circumstances. She nearly choked on her own responses, but the priest remarked neither on this nor on her bedraggled appearance. Blane spoke the phrases firmly and very loudly, it seemed to Gwendeline. She almost imagined that they echoed through the building. Then it was over. They signed a piece of paper, which Blane then put in his coat pocket, and the witnesses returned to their drinks. The priest disappeared through a door behind the altar, and Gwendeline was left alone with her new husband. She felt sick.

  Blane observed her despairing expression with sardonic amusement. He held out his arm once more. “Shall we go, Mrs. Blane?” he asked.

  Revolted, Gwendeline walked down the aisle and out of the church.

  As they came into the street, a seaman from the ship ran up and said a few words to Blane. Blane reacted quickly. Instead of turning back toward the ship, he began to hurry her farther along the street in the opposite direction, and this roused Gwendeline as nothing else could have. “What are you doing? We must go back to the ship and release Brown.”

  He took her arm in a tight grip. “I’ve given orders that she be released. Come along.”

  Gwendeline dragged her feet. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s the truth,” he answered impatiently. “She’s free. You didn’t think I’d take a chaperone on my honeymoon, surely?” Blane gave her no time for thought but hurried her along the street to an inn a little way ahead. There, he began to speak very rapid French to the proprietress, and before Gwendeline could do much more than marvel at his fluency—for she could understand nothing of what was said—he had been given a key and was urging her up the stairs. She started to protest, but he practically carried her up and across a hallway into a small bedroom, pushed her down on the bed, and strode out, locking the door behind him.

  It was too much. It seemed to Gwendeline that she’d been pushed into rooms, imprisoned, and left alone staring at locked doors too many times. A high thin laugh, whose sound frightened her, filled the room then, and it took her a moment to realize that this alien noise was issuing from her own throat. When she did, she covered her mouth with her hand and looked wide-eyed into the mirror on the opposite wall.

  The figure staring back at her was not comforting. Her hair was hopelessly tangled; her face was smudged; and her dress a shambles. But her expression was the most unsettling. Out of a white face, dark-circled, green-blue eyes blazed. There was desperation in them.

  Twenty-three

  Gwendeline shook herself angrily and went over to examine the windows. The room was on the first floor, but they were large and opened easily outward on hinges at the side; the drop was hardly five feet here at the back of the building. Gwendeline climbed onto the sill and jumped.

  She landed in a heap, unhurt but tangled in her long skirts and cloak. She got to her feet, shook out her clothing, and surveyed her position. A narrow flagstone path twisted around the corner of the inn, leading to the street, but Gwendeline had no intention of walking that way and perhaps encountering Blane. She faced instead the cobbled alley that ran away from the building at right angles and trudged off holding up her skirts, though they were already so dirty it hardly mattered.

  The alley ended in a small street which ran parallel to the one in front of the inn. It went in the right direction, but several people were walking along it, and Gwendeline faltered, afraid to be seen. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and bent her head, then turned and hurried down toward the harbor, avoiding the eyes of other pedestrians. She hoped nervously that she could find the ship again. Her chief concern was for Miss Brown. Was her friend safe? She trusted Blane not at all, but as she thought over his behavior after they’d left the church, she was sure something had gone awry in his plans. Perhaps Brown really was out of his clutches.

  She took some wrong turnings, but at last she reached the docks, and walked along them until she recognized the ship. A few sailors shouted remarks as she passed, but no one offered to harm her, and eventually she came to a vessel which she was almost sure was the correct one. She’d found that ships look much alike.

  She stood behind a stack of wooden crates, watching it for a while. She could see no movement on the deck, but she wanted to make sure Blane wasn’t about. Finally satisfied, she stepped forward and mounted the gangplank. There was no one on deck. Gwendeline walked swiftly toward the cabins and into the passageway. She passed the room where she’d been imprisoned. There were three other such tiny cubicles beyond. None was locked, and all were empty. She checked the main cabin opposite, but it was also untenanted. Puzzled, Gwendeline walked back out on the deck. Where had everyone gone? The ship appeared to be deserted. Where was Miss Brown?

  There was a sudden scraping noise, and Gwendeline jumped. It had seemed to come from below her feet, and she crept over to look into the large open hatch in the middle of the deck. All was dark in the hold, but it appeared to be empty; she could see the reflection of some water in the bottom of the boat. Perhaps it was a rat, she thought nervously. She moved away again, and went to sit on the rail, overlooking the harbor.

  She shouldn’t stay here. Blane might come at any time. But when she told herself to get up and leave, she found that she didn’t know where to go. The sun was setting behind her, throwing her shadow across the waves. In her exhaustion the quiet lap of the water was lulling. Her life was ruined, just as it had seemed that her dreams were becoming real. She shook herself. No self-pity. She must act. But darkness was falling, making the ship seem a safe haven compared to the murky streets. She had no money, and her unconventional appearance would certainly not help her find aid.

  A clattering in the darkness startled her. Two men stood with their backs toward her at the bottom of the gangway. Gwendeline gasped. It was Blane and the seaman who had accosted him outside the church. She huddled into a pile of folded sails.

  “I say we bolt,” insisted the sailor. “The swells snaffled t’other mort hours ago. She’ll ’ave opened her budget, or I’m a bag-pudding. Which I ain’t.”

  Blane seemed to have no trouble comprehending these cryptic words. “You may do as you like. I intend to find the girl.”

  The sailor shuffled uncertainly; he looked around. “What’ud she be doin’ ’ere, guv’nor? The big cove, ’e probably nabbed ’er too. Ain’t no one aboard this ’ulk.”

  “I don’t believe he had her,” replied Blane. “His yacht is still in the harbor. If he’d found the girl, he would have put out. Come, let us search the cabins.”

  He started toward the bow, and the seaman followed sullenly, muttering, “Females, I knew ’ow it’d be.”

  The men disappeared into the passage, and Gwendeline dared to raise her head slightly. Could she escape while they were within? But before she could, they were back on deck. “Told ye,” said the sailor. “She ain’t ’ere.”

  Blane held the lantern high and peered about the deck. “I was sure she’d come here,” he said to himself. “Where else could she have gone?” Gwendeline shrank down as far as possible and tried not to breathe. “Damn!” said Blane finally. “I haven’t time to search properly.”
/>   “Indeed not,” said a voice from the shadows at the top of the gangway. “In fact, I fear you have run out of time entirely, Blane.”

  Mr. Blane whirled. “Merryn,” he snarled, and the earl stepped onto the deck.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I have caught up with you finally. And I don’t plan to have to pursue you again.”

  “You are alone?” asked Blane.

  The earl smiled. “Temporarily. I outdistanced my party in hopes of meeting you first. We have certain things to discuss.”

  Blane’s laugh was ugly. “I daresay you think so. But as there are two of us, and I don’t care to remain here, we may have to defer our discussion until another time.”

  Lord Merryn’s smile broadened. “Oh, I have no interest in your friend. I’m quite willing to let him go without hindrance.” He stepped away from the plank. “What do you say, my good man?” He gestured toward the shore.

  The sailor took one quick look at each gentleman, then ran for the offered exit. He disappeared down the gangway as Blane shouted, “Come back, you fool.”

  The earl laughed. “Now,” he said. And he started across the deck.

  Blane backed away slightly. “What do you mean to do? Mill me down? You’ll find yourself out there.”

  The earl continued to move forward. “Do you think you can best me?”

  “Oh no, you are much too handy with your fives for me, but it may not be so easy,” cried Blane. He jumped back, reached inside his coat, and pulled out his pistol. As Gwendeline leaped up with a frantic cry, he aimed and shot.

  She managed to knock his arm upward, and the bullet went wide. Furious, Blane hit her with the back of his hand, and Gwendeline fell to the deck unconscious.

  Twenty-four

  Gwendeline woke on a sofa in a small neat parlor that seemed remarkably full of people. She looked around her, recognizing Miss Brown, Major St. Audley, and Mr. Ames. What would Mr. Ames be doing here, she wondered hazily. Just then, the door opened, and Lord Merryn strode in, crowding the room even more. She tried to sit up, only to discover that she felt excessively dizzy and that her head ached abominably. She sank back.

  Lord Merryn was the only observer of these efforts. He nodded his approval. “That’s better. You’re not to move around for a while.”

  As the others turned toward her, Gwendeline put a hand to her head. “Oh, Gwendeline,” put in Miss Brown, “I’m so glad to see you awake and safe. Blane is taken by the police; he won’t trouble you again.”

  “He sent those notes to me,” Gwendeline said. “And hired the highwaymen who attacked you. He told me so.”

  The earl nodded grimly. “I know. I’ve learned a great deal about Mortimer Blane in the last half hour. He carried out a detailed plan of revenge for his imagined wrongs.”

  “The man must be mad!” exclaimed Mr. Ames, shaking his fist, and Miss Brown agreed.

  But Major St. Audley shook his head. “I don’t allow him that excuse. He is a dam…a dashed…” He threw up his hands. “Never mind.”

  Lord Merryn smiled a little at this and moved farther into the room. “Interesting as it may be to dissect Blane’s character,” he said blandly, “Gwendeline and I have more important matters to discuss. If all of you would excuse us for a few moments?” He gestured toward the door. The major went directly out, and Miss Brown followed more slowly, looking back over her shoulder anxiously. Mr. Ames hesitated, then also hurried out. The earl closed the door and turned back to Gwendeline. He pulled a chair up beside the sofa and took her hand. “There,” he said. “Now we can settle things between us.”

  “How does Mr. Ames come to be here?” She thought she knew what he wished to say, and she wanted desperately to avoid telling him of her marriage to Blane.

  “He forced himself upon me,” the earl answered, shrugging and smiling wryly. “He would not allow me to leave that cursed ball without him.”

  “He is so kind.”

  “Possibly,” said Lord Merryn dryly. “Why do I feel that you are trying to shift this conversation onto trivial subjects? I wish to discuss important matters.”

  “Important?” faltered Gwendeline.

  “Well, the date of the wedding, for example. And whether you wish to go to Paris afterward or would prefer the country. I have a rather good house in Hertfordshire, you know.”

  “W-wedding?”

  “Wedding,” he agreed firmly, “our wedding.”

  Gwendeline burst into tears.

  The earl looked surprised. “What have I said?” he asked. “I haven’t had much experience making offers of marriage, I admit.”

  Gwendeline blurted out the story of her marriage to Blane. “So you see,” she finished, “I cannot marry you. My life is ruined.”

  “What a gudgeon you are, Gwendeline,” replied the earl indulgently.

  Gwendeline sat up straight, only to sink back dizzily once more. “A gudgeon?” she replied hotly, her hand to her head again. “Is that how I seem to you in this horrid situation? You are odious; I am glad I can’t marry you.”

  “Your marriage to Blane is not valid.”

  “What?”

  “No marriage can be legal when one party is forced to it. But even that is beside the point. The man who married you was an imposter. Blane hired him to play a priest.”

  Gwendeline was stunned and could not take it in at first. “Y-you mean,” she began.

  “I mean that you are no more married than I, my dear gudgeon. A situation we shall speedily remedy, I hope.”

  “But…”

  “Yes?”

  “But you haven’t even asked me to marry you…”

  “Are you saying that you don’t wish to do so?” Lord Merryn asked equably.

  “No, but… I mean, yes. There is so much I do not yet understand.” Gwendeline set her jaw. “I would like to know, once for all, if you have been supporting me these weeks. Blane didn’t think that Sir Humphrey was a party to my rescue.”

  The earl looked at her with tender amusement. “You never give up, do you? I think perhaps it was your dogged perseverance that first roused my admiration.” He sighed. “When I went down to Devonshire to fetch you, I expected to find a child, as you must remember. I’d made no provision for the fact that you might be a young lady. When I saw how it was, I had to revise my plans. I pulled this imaginary ‘group’ out of the air to satisfy the proprieties and quiet your understandable doubts, I admit. But once I was back in town I did enlist some others, after a hard half hour with Sir Humphrey Owsley, I must tell you. He was incensed that he had not been asked to join this mythical group, if you please.”

  Gwendeline smiled. “Was he indeed?”

  Lord Merryn’s answering smile was wry. “Extremely. He forced a large sum of money on me to make it true.”

  “I wish I might have seen him,” laughed Gwendeline. She looked down then, and her smile faded. “But before that, you should have told me. It was not right. I…”

  “You would have left me the instant you knew,” put in the earl. “I couldn’t face that when I found that you were the only woman I could ever love.” He shook his head. “No fiction or invention seemed too arduous if it kept you near me. How I wished to give you even more! I admit, but I am not sorry.” His grip on her hand tightened painfully. “If you knew what I felt when you disappeared! I vowed then that I would never lose you again.”

  “And so you became engaged to Adele Greene.” She looked at him inquiringly.

  “She is now safely engaged to the Duke of Craigbourne, as you must remember.”

  “Yes,” said Gwendeline, “but very recently she was engaged to you.” She looked at him squarely.

  “And you wish to know how that came about?” Gwendeline nodded. “Understandable, I suppose. Well, the base of it was blackmail.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Adele wa
nted to marry me, or rather my title and fortune, I believe. She came up to me at a dinner party some time after you had left London and threatened to spread the story she’d heard Mr. Blane tell on our unfortunate country riding expedition throughout the ton unless I agreed to become engaged to her.”

  “Even Adele could not be capable of such a thing.”

  Lord Merryn shrugged. “Nevertheless, that is what she did. My first impulse was to laugh at her and send her packing. It seemed to matter very little when you had gone, believing the lies Blane had spoken.” Gwendeline moved as if to protest this, but the earl went on. “Then, as I thought further, I realized two things. I didn’t really want the tale spread. So I gave in, trusting that I could divert Adele, as I did with Craigbourne. I did hope the announcement might make you return to London.”

  Gwendeline looked away. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Can you not?” he asked, smiling. “But it did bring you back.”

  “It did not!” she replied indignantly. “I came back because…because I wished to. And because I’d read the countess’s book and found out the true story of my mother. Which you might have told me in the beginning,” she added.

  “I came to do so on the day you fled London, Gwendeline,” he told her seriously. “You gave me little chance to explain.”

  “I know. I am sorry.”

  “But my mother’s book was helpful. Had I known she was writing it, I would probably not have agreed to become engaged. But she has learned to tell me little about her writing.” He grinned. “By the by, she was overjoyed to hear that you are to become a member of the family. She said that your life has provided her with more plot ideas than she ever found in any of her researches. Your latest trials have sent her into ecstasies.”

  “Have you told everyone that we’re to be married then?”

  “Not everyone, certainly. Only your particular friends. I must say they were all flatteringly happy to hear it.”