Lady Arnold sniffed. “I hope it was a woman,” she said. “I hope it was one of the women he cheated on his wife with, someone there to show him just how wretched a creature he truly is. I can’t imagine a woman robbing him in the middle of the night—but it’s not above the bounds of reason, I suppose. These women he fancies, the ones he’s not married to—they’re apt to do anything. They simply aren’t in our class.”
“Not that class has anything to do with it,” Harriet returned, startled at the volume of her own voice.
Both her parents blinked at her before regrouping.
“Regardless, the Marquess thinks surely the thief—be it this woman, or someone in connection with this woman—will strike again. He’s asking the entire city to keep an eye out,” her father continued.
“Do you think they’ll come for us?” her mother whispered.
“No. We’re not the sort,” Harriet said, still sounding temperamental. “The thief is selecting people who’ve wronged their peers and poor people. He—or she—is sending a message. I don’t think, Father, you’ve involved yourself in any horrendous business dealings, or stolen from your friends, or robbed the poor?”
Her father shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Then we shan’t worry,” Harriet said, allowing her chin to drop towards her chest.
She hadn’t given much thought to the Marquess since the ball, choosing instead to fall into her own daydream, her own thoughts of the future. But this was a firm reminder that there was still much to do. She asked her parents if she could be excused from the dinner table and crept up to her bedroom, eyeing the cloak in the back area of her closet.
Harriet perched at the edge of her desk chair and wet her quill. Knowing she had to fully code the letter, just in case prying eyes fell upon it, she took a moment to think about how to proceed. It was incredibly important to articulate everything she needed to say.
William,
I’d like to begin this letter with something I wish only to shout to the sky above (regardless of how drab it is just now). I absolutely adore you. I love you more than I could have possibly dreamed. You’re everything I’ve looked for in a man, without knowing I was looking. Thank you for it. For existing. For proving something about the world that I didn’t know I needed.
That said, our work isn’t done. That is—before we’re wed, it’s essential that we eliminate all other factors that may get in our way. I trust you understand what I mean.
It is absolutely essential that we meet once more, rather soon, to establish the nature of this future commitment, along with a plan. I know soon I will wear a dress and you will wear your finest suit and we will marry in front of our dearest friends and family. But until then, we must fight.
Forever yours,
Harriet
Harriet folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, sealing it with melted wax. Once it cooled, she kissed it, and rose, striding down the steps to find one of the messengers in the stable. Before long, she knew the envelope would be stretched out across William’s lap. Surely, he would understand the severity of the situation. If he understood the aching needs of her soul, he would act quickly.
Later that afternoon, a letter arrived back from William. Harriet blinked at his gorgeous handwriting, which had scrawled her name. How delicious it was, knowing that he would write out her name in just this manner—along with his last name, instead—for the rest of her days.
Harriet hustled back up the steps. In the midst of her trot, she heard her father calling for her. “Harriet!”
Harriet froze, drawing the envelope across her chest. “What is it, Father?” she called.
“Darling, I wonder if you might come down here for a moment? In the study.”
Harriet was very rarely called to her father’s study. She took tentative steps towards the foyer, feeling a wave of panic.
Again, her father called her. “Harriet! It really is a matter of absolute importance.”
Harriet snuck the letter behind her back as she crept in through the crack in the door in the study. What she saw within left her utterly speechless, her throat and mouth completely dry. There, poised beside her father’s desk was the Marquess and the wretched man who’d tied her up. They blinked at her, their faces pale. In the presence of the man who’d tied her, the only man who’d seen her face at the home of the Marquess, Harriet felt her legs turn to jelly.
“There she is!” her father said, his voice still jovial. “Marquess, I suspect you’ve met my daughter, Harriet. And Harriet, this is the—what did you say your name was again?”
The man who’d tied her was dressed far more formally than he’d been the other night, in a scraggly-looking jacket and dark pants. His hair had been combed in a lacklustre manner, as though the Marquess had forced him to do it prior to leaving the estate.
“Sir Theodore Morris,” the man said, surely adding the “sir” as a sort of false title.
“Sir Morris. That’s right. This is the Marquess’ right-hand man, I’m told,” Lord Arnold continued.
“Wonderful to meet you,” Harriet said, trying to use a false, higher-pitched voice. She curtsied, her heart bumping wildly in her throat.
“Yes. Well,” the Marquess said, sliding his tongue across his lower lips. “I assume you’ve heard the gossip regarding my estate, young Lady Arnold.”
“Perhaps a bit,” Harriet tried. “Although I try to stay out of such matters.”
“She’s in love, you know,” her father said, almost croaking the words. “I caught her with Lord William Abernale at the ball, and the man requested to court her! We should have a wedding on our hands rather soon.”
“Is that so,” the Marquess said, almost spitting it. He glared at her.
Beside him, Sir Morris peered at her curiously, his eyebrows joined together over his nose. Harriet felt he was analysing her every crevice, her every line, attempting to deduce if she’d been the young girl he’d found in the attic. Her cheeks burned.
“It is,” Harriet whispered, her voice catching. “Lord Abernale has just returned from many years abroad. Studying law and its effects on the—the gap between the poor and the rich.”
“What a marvellous thing to study,” the Marquess offered, leering at her. “I’ve never had to give much thought to it until now. As my things keep fleeing from my home, almost as though they have a mind of their own, I have to give consideration to the fact that my wealth now belongs elsewhere. It’s a rather crippling thing, don’t you agree, Lady Arnold?”
“It must be wretched,” Harriet tried. She prayed only she could hear her hesitation.
The Marquess took a long step on his stick-like legs, approaching her. “Sir Morris was the only member of my staff to view the thief in the middle of the night, on the very night of your ball,” he said. “He claims that he discovered a woman upstairs, round about your age, in fact. Dressed in a gown. Unfortunately, due to a mighty injury to his skull—brought about, apparently, by this woman—he’s struggling to remember fine details about her to allow us to track her down.”
“I see,” Harriet murmured. She turned her eyes towards Sir Morris, who did look a bit more confused than he had that night. His eyes looked almost cross-eyed. “You suspect the thief is a woman, then, the way they’re saying?”
“It could be that she’s working in operation with someone else,” the Marquess said, “as it’s rather ridiculous for me to consider a woman dreaming this up herself. However, if we find the woman, I think it’s only a matter of time until we find the man behind her. Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely,” Harriet said, sniffing. “You’re saying she’s my age? I can perhaps give you a list of all the women in the ton around my age.”
“That would be incredibly helpful of you,” the Marquess said.
At this, Sir Morris stepped forward, drawing forth his horrendous body odour like a wave. It was clear that he hadn’t yet tried to clean himself up, despite wearing different clothing. He circl
ed Harriet, his eyes turning over her.
Lord Arnold cleared his throat. “I really don’t think Harriet had anything to do with this if that’s what you’re insinuating,” he remarked. “As I said, she was a part of the ball the entire evening, dancing with Lord William Abernale. You can ask him yourself, along with all the other guests at the ball.”
His eyes became watery, perhaps with fear. Harriet had a sudden suspicion that he, in fact, thought she might have a link to all of this. Perhaps, in his mind, it would finally explain all her reckless behaviour, all the sleepless nights.
“I really can’t tell,” Sir Morris scoffed, stabbing the tip of his foot against the floor. “Dammit, it was so dark. And all these young women, they all look the same!”
Lord Arnold’s shoulders slumped. “So, you’ve been to several homes already today?”
“Of course,” the Marquess said, sneering. “It’s not as though it’s like me to leave any stone unturned. You’ve known me for years, Lord Arnold. You know I will capture the woman behind this.”
“I really just don’t know,” Sir Morris added again. “She’s certainly pretty like the other one. But in the darkness of the attic …”
“It’s not as though my daughter knows the ins and outs of your mansion, Marquess,” Lord Arnold said. “I can hardly find the attic in my own estate, let alone in someone else’s. Isn’t there a member of your closer family? Someone who might have spent holidays with you?”
The Marquess pondered this for a moment, stroking his goatee. He nodded his head toward, the doorway, alerting to Sir Morris that it was time to go. Sir Morris stomped out, aligning himself with the front door, whilst the Marquess took a final pause in the doorway.
“Thank you for your help, both of you. I won’t waste more of your time this afternoon, and shall see myself out,” he said.
Harriet stood like a statue, listening as Sir Morris and the Marquess slipped back into the summer afternoon. The moment the door clicked closed, her shoulders collapsed on either side. Her fingers held the letter from William so tightly she felt the bones might break.
“My goodness,” her father said, his cheeks sagging. He scrubbed them with red fingers. “I thought he might never leave. And to think! He suspects you? After all I’ve been through with the man? What a wretched thing. No. I must write letters to all my friends with daughters, warning them of this atrocious fiend. Going around, accusing … It’s despicable.”
“Thank you for standing up for me,” Harriet whispered, frankly surprised that she could even form words.
Her father gaped at her, surprised. “Of course, Harriet. What else am I meant to do on this planet if not stand up for you?”
Harriet didn’t wait to read the letter. She suspected that time was far shorter than both she and William gave it credit for. Rather, she told her mother she was going to visit Zelda and Renata but first rode her horse to William’s.
As William lived alone, this was far less difficult, allowing her to latch her horse in the back to avoid suspicion and then snake up the back entrance, where she rapped at the door. Within, she could hear the booming voice of Thomas, telling some sort of braggadocios story regarding his new love affair. Harriet didn’t focus on the words. Her brain felt like a frenetic storm.
William’s maid opened the door and peered at her beneath enormous, white, caterpillar-like eyebrows. Harriet struggled to know how to introduce herself.
“Hello. I’m—I’m courting …” she murmured, scrambling over her words. “I really—I don’t wish to see Thomas. And it will only be for a moment …”
“Wait here,” the maid said. Harriet hadn’t a clue what would happen next. She shifted her weight atop the stair, the wind whipping at her back.
Moments later, she heard the maid speaking to William and Thomas.
“Lord Abernale, I believe there’s a parcel for you at the back door. Thomas, while you wait, can I interest you in a platter of biscuits?”
Thomas, ever the child, readily agreed to such a proposition. William’s steps stretched in through the kitchen, bringing him directly in the line of sight of Harriet. His eyes turned to saucers. He flung himself forward, as though he hadn’t seen her in years, drawing his hands across her cheeks and kissing her softly, tenderly. Harriet felt as though she was lifted from the ground.
When the kiss broke, William whispered, “We don’t have much time. He can only eat that platter of biscuits for so long.”
“William, the Marquess and the man you hit were just at my estate,” Harriet said, choosing not to waste any time.
“What? What are you talking …”
“The man remembers there was a woman. A young woman in a dress. He looked me up and down, William, but he couldn’t tell. It was far too dark in the attic. But I can’t believe how reckless I was. Wearing that ball gown like that …”
“Shhh. It’s too late to worry about that now,” William said, drawing his hand over the back of her head and stroking her curls.
“I came to tell you that we need to make a plan. We need to do it right now,” Harriet said, her voice hoarse. “I think we can use my father.”
“You’re saying we tell him what we’ve been up to?” William asked. “I think that’s entirely too …”
“No, no,” Harriet said. “That would be horrific. I don’t know what he would do with his conscience in that case. Rather, my father has his own opinions about the Marquess, opinions that could allow us to guide his actions.”
“You’re saying we should use your father like a puppet,” William said.
“Perhaps a bit,” Harriet said, disliking the use of the word. “As I told you, the Marquess is stealing money from the poor—a fact that even my father would absolutely detest. I think if you tell him you have a suspicion about this, leaving me out of it, of course, he will want to help you bring the news to light. Although my father doesn’t do his part in society, necessarily, he isn’t an evil man. Perhaps misguided at times. But he wouldn’t want something like this to continue. I know that for certain.”
“So … we tell him that the Marquess is stealing …”
“And then, you guide him to where you think it’s occurring,” Harriet continued.
“But I don’t fully know …”
“I’ll show you,” Harriet said, her nostrils flared. “I wish to visit the area anyway. I have this horrible feeling about Oliver …”
“Who is Oliver?” William asked. His voice was a near-bark, showing his fear. He scrubbed his beard, looking at Harriet as though she was a kind of alien. “I just ... are you really sure this is the only way we can stop this? Involving your father? It’s rather close to everything else.”
“It is. But I really think this is the only escape route,” Harriet said. “And it puts the Marquess at the mercy of his own actions. Honestly, William, if you can think of a better way, say it. But this is the plan I know now.
“Regardless, you guide him to the area in which these men are robbing from children, and then you follow one of them after he commits the crime. You capture him and demand answers. I can’t imagine a world in which he won’t deliver them.”
A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 26