by Corwin, Amy
Helen was already inside, making herself comfortable. “There you are—I was afraid you might decide to sit up all night with uncle.”
“No.”
“Do sit down, Oriana, or do you want me to help you change? We’ll be ever so much more comfortable in our night clothes—just as if we were girls again!”
“That sounds lovely,” she replied, somewhat startled at the suggestion.
It did sound nice. She longed to get out of her dingy gray-brown walking dress. In fact, she wished she could burn it and get something new. Something different that would change her entire, drab existence. Maybe that was why Helen bought new things so impulsively, always hoping a new ribbon or bonnet would change her life.
Unfortunately, it looked like her life was about to stagnate here at The Orchards for the next few years. If Helen told their parents that she had seen Chilton kissing Oriana, then another few months or even years would be decreed for her. The squire’s proposal looked more advantageous all the time.
At least it would take her a few miles south of The Orchards.
When Helen helped her out of her dress, she cheerfully threw it in the corner. “Horrid thing,” Helen said. “I can’t understand why you wear it. You look dreadful in it. As if you haven’t a drop of blood in you.” She flashed an amazingly calculated glance at Oriana before she widened her blue eyes. “And yet, even wearing such a thing, Mr. Dacy still kissed you! And you kissed him back!”
“It was dark, Helen. I doubt he had any idea what he was doing. He might have been kissing Buttercup for all he knew.”
“Oh, no. Why he quite crushed you in his embrace. Did you enjoy it?”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. “No,” she lied. “I hardly realized what was happening. I was overcome with shock at Mr. Winkle’s appalling behavior.”
Helen’s high laughter peeled like the tinkling of sleigh bells. She put her hand over her mouth at last to smoother her giggles. “What a corker! Really, how could you lie so?”
“That was not a lie.”
“It was entirely the worst lie I have ever heard.” Helen giggled.
“Nonsense!”
“Is that why you want him to leave?”
“Why?”
“Because you love him?”
“I do not love him. It has nothing to do with the matter.”
“Then why do you want him to go? Did he do something...improper?”
“You saw him this evening! If that wasn’t improper and the behavior of a depraved rake, I don’t know what is!”
“Oriana!”
“Well?”
Helen’s mouth drooped at the corners as if disappointed. “I thought depravity was something much worse. Truly, I did.”
“You utter minx!” She laughed, thrusting her arms through the armholes of her robe and tying the ribbon at her neck. “You know nothing of the matter.”
“And you do?”
The memory of Lord Willowby and her maid rushed through her mind. “Yes. I do.”
Helen frowned as if she could read her sister’s mind. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I quite forgot your engagement. I’m such a beast to remind you.”
“Don’t worry, Helen, I had really almost forgotten it.”
“Is that why you don’t like Mr. Dacy?”
“No. He has deceived all of us—and most especially Uncle John.”
“How?”
“Mr. Dacy made friends with Uncle John just to acquire some vowel his foolish step-mamma signed. He made fools of us all, I’m afraid, thinking he was our friend.”
“But he was our friend this evening, wasn’t he?”
“Perhaps, but I already knew differently. It’s more likely he was trying to worm his way back into our good graces so that we would let him stay on.”
“But would that really be so bad? You can’t just turn him out, Oriana.”
“Don’t you remember this morning? The cock-and-bull story he made up about being in London to visit his papa? Well, perhaps he can go back there. I’m sure his papa, if he has one, will be happy to see him.”
“Wouldn’t you rather he stay?”
“I thought you did not like Mr. Dacy?”
“I don’t. But I am not the one mooning over him and waiting to be kissed.”
“I am not waiting to be kissed. And I am certainly not mooning over him.”
“You are, too. I have seen you follow him with your eyes.”
“I do not follow him with my eyes, or any other part of me.”
“You do, too! And he stares at you, too!” Helen shivered delicately. “He’s very alarming. But oh, Oriana, why are you so set against him? It isn’t like you. I truly thought you had grown to like him.”
“That’s just it, isn’t it?” she replied bitterly. “Unfortunately, I have this dreadful hatred of trickery. First, we spend our time chasing after Uncle John, trying to keep him out of harm’s way. Then I have the misfortune to become engaged to Lord Willowby, who was as loose a screw as I’ve ever had the bad luck to lay eyes upon. Now, Mr. Dacy is scheming to get the best of us and steal a vowel from Uncle John that he won fairly.”
“Uncle John? Fair?” Helen hooted and laughed until tears ran down her pink cheeks.
“Helen Archer! You know perfectly well Uncle John would never cheat a lady.”
“Unless that lady were a cheat,” Helen quipped, quite unabashed.
“Then it was fair. And Mr. Dacy means to steal it from uncle.”
“Well, it won’t wash. You and I both know there’s not a man in England who can find anything—and most especially a small slip of paper—that Uncle John doesn’t want found.”
“Precisely. Which is why Mr. Dacy must leave. I’ll ask Uncle John for it and return it to Mr. Dacy, if it was unfairly gotten. Then that shall be an end of it. I won’t be responsible for watching over one more man. Uncle John is enough for me—they are all dreadful, deceitful liars. It’s more than I can stand!”
“Oh, I don’t think Mr. Dacy is like that! And I hate to think of you all alone here.”
“It doesn’t matter, Helen. I’ve made up my mind. He goes back to London tomorrow.”
At which point, Helen startled her by bursting into tears.
Confused, she patted her on the back. Then she offered her a handkerchief, hoping she was just overwrought after their adventures, and not because of Oriana’s failure to attract a respectable alliance.
A minute later, she began sobbing herself. She tried to grab her handkerchief back, but Helen refused to let it go.
Oriana gave up and stared blindly at her sister. She realized she had attracted a respectable alliance—the Squire. And it was the most utterly demoralizing aspect of the last two weeks.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Two Pots to Win
The next morning, Oriana came downstairs haggard but ready again to take the cursed necklace to be repaired. It was one of the few things she felt competent to manage. In the hallway, she found Chilton and Joshua, arguing about conveyances, with Chilton’s dogs flopping around his feet.
“Miss Archer!” Joshua said, the first to spy her as she paused at the foot of the stairs. “Are you off to the village?”
“Yes,” she replied wearily. “One more time.”
“You’re not expecting to take that blasted necklace, are you? Alone?” Chilton interrupted, a black look settling on his face.
“As a matter of fact, yes, although I won’t be alone. Hunter will accompany me.”
“A dog!”
“Mr. Reynolds is gone,” Joshua said. “Went to live with his sister in Bath.”
“So?”
“There’s no other jeweler in the village, Miss.”
Chilton’s gray eyes got a rather peculiar expression in them which made her nervously aware of him. She stared at him, blushed and then glanced around nervously while he fixed his gaze nonchalantly on his fingernails.
“I know a fine jeweler in London, Miss Archer,” Chilton said. “If you
should like to travel with me, I could escort you there.”
“I rather think not!”
“You think not, what?” a sweet voice asked.
She swung around to find her sister on the stairs, looking perfectly enchanting in a white muslin day dress with a blue sash and kid slippers dyed to match.
“I don’t think I should like to travel to London with Mr. Dacy,” Oriana clarified.
Helen squealed with delight and clapped her hands, coming the rest of the way down the stairs. Josephine and her three puppies barked and fell all over themselves in their efforts to get to the exciting new person in their midst who made such fetching sounds.
“Oh, but it would be delightful!” Helen said. “We could spend the night in the townhouse. We’ll have to get the staff to prepare it in any event. Mamma and Papa will return soon and I’ll come out this season—oh, this is perfection itself! Do wait while I change. I cannot go like this.”
“But, how shall we get back?”
“We won’t come back! That’s the best part!”
“Nonsense, we can’t leave Uncle John here alone.”
“Oh,” Helen pursed her lips and then laughed. “Well, just overnight then. We’ll come back tomorrow. Rose can tend to him—just for today.”
“Then we’ll have to take the carriage,” Oriana said gloomily, thinking about the sickening view through the hole in the floor. They’d have to watch the ground passing under their feet all the way to London.
“I shall put a plank down over the flooring, Miss Archer,” Joshua offered, obviously thinking the same thing.
“Then it’s settled?” Chilton asked.
She eyed him suspiciously, but his face remained impassive except for his mouth. She could have sworn the corners of his mouth twitched.
“And there is undoubtedly time for breakfast while we wait for your sister,” he added.
“Mayhap,” Oriana said, trying not to smile.
She wouldn’t give in, no, not under any circumstances. He had practiced the lowest form of deceit upon them all. And eventually, she would be the one left to explain to Uncle John that his dear friend had only been trying to steal from him and had slunk back to London when he failed.
Because she was certainly not going to try to obtain the vowel for him, now. She refused to risk upsetting her uncle while he was still so ill.
“Come then,” he offered his arm to her.
She took it, biting the corners of her mouth to avoid smiling. To return the favor, he grinned down at her from his great height and winked.
A laugh bubbled out of her before she could prevent it. “You are dreadful, Mr. Dacy.”
His grin broadened. “So I’ve been told. And try not to let it slip your mind again that it is Chilton—or Chil—as you prefer, Oriana.”
“Miss Archer.”
“Whatever you say, Oriana.”
She sighed and sat down at the breakfast table.
Oriana and Chilton were just finishing their poached eggs, ham, wedges of sharp cheddar cheese, and bread when Helen ran into the room.
“Oh, I missed breakfast!” she exclaimed. As if expecting to be left behind, Helen had made a remarkably swift change into in her blue pelisse and straw bonnet.
Oriana picked up a napkin and briskly filled it with a cheese and bread. “Here. You can eat this in the carriage.”
“Lovely! Oh, this is so exciting. Are we ready then?”
“I suppose,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the floor and trying to remember all the reasons why she didn’t like or trust Chilton.
When they were finally ready to go, Joshua had the carriage floor covered with several pale, raw planks which filled the compartment with the lovely scent of fresh apple wood. He helped Oriana, Helen and Chilton inside and then stepped back to settle his cloak more firmly over his shoulders.
Prepared at last, he climbed up into the seat and wrestled the reins away from the old coachman, who despite his retirement, insisted on occupying the driver’s perch whenever the Archers dared to take the ancient carriage out onto the road.
Oriana and Helen sat facing forward and Chilton sat opposite, stretching out his long legs between the two women. He looked horribly pleased with himself. Oriana scowled only to have him laugh in reply and wink.
And despite her dreadful mood, the first few miles went swiftly. Helen chatted, mostly pestering Chilton about events in London and what she might expect during her first season.
“And what is Almack’s like inside?” she asked. “Is it truly just a vast, empty room with only a few seats against the walls?”
“How the devil should I know?” he replied. “I’ve never set foot in the place.”
“Oh, well, of course not,” Helen said, entirely unaffected by his exasperated tone. “But do you know anyone who has?”
“Yes. I expect my dear father has, for one. You can ask him.”
“Oh, wonderful! Shall we meet him today?”
“I have no idea. Look, why don’t you ladies try to get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get to London.”
The idea was so sensible, and such a relief, that Oriana closed her eyes immediately. Helen continued to chatter, asking impossibly detailed questions about the ton, what the modish women were wearing, what refreshments were served at Almack’s, and other topics he refused to answer.
Smiling to herself, Oriana drifted off to sleep. She felt complete contentment in the knowledge that at least one of the Archers was making him very, very sorry he had thrust his way into their family on false pretenses.
“Are you awake, Oriana?” a deep male voice asked.
She stirred sleepily. She was comfortable where she was, held securely by a firm arm, and she hated to move. The warm, spicy scent of bay filled the air. She inhaled deeply and smiled.
“We’ve reached London.” His arm tightened around her.
She struggled to sit up, staring across where he had been sitting when she fell asleep. In his place, Helen was curled up, murmuring drowsily in her sleep. Sometime during their journey, Chilton and Helen had traded places. Oriana must have spent hours sleeping in his arms!
“Wake up, Helen,” she replied, straightening. Her bonnet had mysteriously disappeared while she slept, too. When she glanced around, she found it in the corner next to him. “Hand me my bonnet, if you please.”
He grinned and swung it over to her by its ribbons. “What? No thank you?”
“Thank you.” A sense of confusion and nervousness filled her as she gazed out the window. The carriage was moving slowly along a crowded street.
They were in London. It wouldn’t be much longer before they said goodbye to him. And she might never see him again.
“Do you have the necklace?” He glanced out the window.
She stared at him before slowly handing the necklace over. It was true that some tradesmen preferred dealing with men, but somehow she felt odd about placing it in his possession.
“Perhaps I ought to retain it?”
“Nonsense. You’re too easy a mark here. I shall keep it safe.” He thrust the red velvet bag into his pocket and again looked out the window. She thought he appeared a trifle uneasy and even a smidgeon guilty.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Near my apartments. I hope you don’t mind,” he continued hastily when she gave him a rather stern look. “I have been away for a while, and I wanted to check on things. We can also leave Joshua and the dogs there. They don’t need to accompany us to the jewelers or to your townhouse.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at Josephine and the puppies. They were lying snuggled against her feet. Her heart turned over at the sight. She hated to give them up, especially the little brown female. Oriana felt a sort of kinship with her. They were both small, fat, brown things that no one particularly noticed or wanted. “Have you named them?”
“Yes.” A wash of red colored his cheeks, and he eyed the dogs with a sheepish expression. “The female is Widdle, the large male is Too
th, and the other is Whine.”
“Widdle, Whine and Tooth.” She giggled in spite of herself. He grinned back, his dark eyes intent on her face. “I suppose I need hardly ask why you named them thusly. Although poor little Tooth doesn’t really have any, yet, does he?”
“No, but their names seemed so apropos.”
She laughed again. “I suppose they did!”
There was many a puddle cleaned up by the staff after Widdle. And everyone had heard Whine whimpering ceaselessly with his nose to the door. Tooth had drooled and mouthed several pairs of shoes and boots before Joshua discovered that the only safe place for leather items was on top of the wardrobe.
“I’m surprised you wished to take them with you.”
His expression faltered. She immediately regretted her words and patted his arm in reassurance, wishing she dared to press a quick—and quite chaste—kiss on his cheek.
However, her gesture only led to further complications. He caught her hand under his and kept it in place on his arm. Her stomach fluttered. Warmth stole over her cheeks as she gazed down at her lap.
“I’ve grown used to the mongrels. No one else would have them, given their habits. Rather like me, I’m afraid.”
“Rubbish.” She gazed out the window to hide her flustered blushes. The coach was drawing up to a rambling building of red brick with a narrow set of stairs.
Glancing out, he squeezed her hand before thrusting open the door. When he got down to the pavement, he called up to Joshua to throw down his baggage. Then he turned to face her.
“I’ll just settle the dogs and Joshua. We’ll soon be on our way to the jewelers.”
She started to nod when her eye was caught by a couple of large men in deep blue livery who came tumbling out of the door at his back. They seemed to be headed straight for the carriage.
“Chilton!” She pointed over his shoulder. “Watch out!”
At her words, the two men surrounded him.
“We’re to take you to Lord Chichester,” one man said, grabbing his arm.
The other snagged his other arm.
“Got you cold, Guv’nor,” said the man on Chilton’s left.
Chilton shrugged angrily but the man beside him gripped more tightly, getting hold of his jacket. When he pulled away, the fabric ripped at the seams. With horror, she watched as the bag with their necklace fell out of the pocket, right in front the two ruffians.