An Impetuous Miss (22 page)

Much relieved to see Cat apparently unharmed, Hazelforth grasped Chumley by the sleeve and pulled him down to a crouching position.
“It's clear they have Miss Catherine imprisoned in her room,” he whispered. “You must ride into the village and get the magistrates and some men. I shall try to gain the window.”

Without further ado, Chumley nodded and dis
appeared into the darkness, leaving Hazelforth to contemplate his task. Inwardly he blessed whichever of Cat's ancestors had determined to allow stout vines to curl themselves up the sides of the building unchecked. If they were as sturdy as they promised, he should be able to reach Cat's window with very little difficulty. In fact, it seemed a little odd to him, now that he thought about it, that such an enterprising person as Cat had been left to her own devices with such an available means of escape at her disposal. Perhaps, he thought with a furious start, she was not alone.

****

Although Cat had fallen asleep almost as quickly as her pets, her rest was by no means as untroubled. In the darkness, her brow furrowed as her dreams became progressively nonsensical, replaying all of the events of recent days but, in the annoying manner of such dreams, oddly mixed and sorted. Geoffrey D'Ashley rode about in a curricle pulled by Caesar and Brutus, pursued hotly by Snagworth and Audrey in wedding garments while guests from the costume ball placed bets as to who would reach Vauxhall Gardens first. Then Lady Montrose appeared wearing gossamer wings, floating above the crowd and finally wafting down to where Cat was applying a plaster to Mr. Abelwhite's nose, “Hush,” she was saying, “you mustn't make a noise, my dear.” Suddenly, it seemed to Cat as if the voice were changing from Lady Montrose's to that of Mr. Hazelforth. What a remarkable dream, she mused hazily, trying to rouse herself.

As Cat pulled herself from the clutches of the dream, she was alarmed to feel the suffocating pressure of a hand over her mouth. Instantly, she began to struggle, but she was held firmly and fast. Her heart raced in a sudden panic.
“Hush, my dear,” the voice came again. “You must be quiet so I can get you out of here.”

It took several seconds for the significance of these words and the voice which spoke them to take hold, but when Cat finally grasped that her captor was the
man she loved, she immediately ceased straining against him and instead threw her arms about him. She rested there for some minutes as he clasped her tightly to him, stroking her hair, and not saying a word. Indeed, the unseemliness of their situation bothered neither.

After a time, he released her reluctantly.
“Come, Cat,” he whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “It is just a few hours until dawn. I must get you away from here before it is light.”

By this time, Caesar and Brutus, proving their inadequacy as watchdogs, had roused themselves and begun to bounce about on the bed, wagging their tails and jumping up on Cat and Hazelforth. Impatiently, he hushed them and tried to pull Cat from her bed.

“But, Mr. Hazelforth …” she protested, not bothering to whisper.

“
Hush, Cat!” he hissed back. “Do you want to bring them down about our ears? Now I fear we must go the way I came, down the vine. Do you think you can manage it?”

“
Of course, Mr. Hazelforth,” she replied. “I have been climbing down those vines since I was ten years old, but really there's not the slightest need ...”

“
Don't be stubborn, Cat,” he whispered urgently. “I am not about to expose you to any further danger. Now come along.”

“
I am not being stubborn,” she began again, “I only want to tell you ...”

“
Tell me when we're away, Cat. Now shall I carry you or will you climb down yourself?”

Cat hesitated a moment longer, wondering whether
Mr. Hazelforth would feel even more foolish if she allowed him to force her to scale her own wall unnecessarily after going to some trouble to effect an unnecessary rescue. She almost wished now that she had played the damsel in distress and waited for her savior to arrive. She sighed heavily, recognizing that she had once again failed to fulfill convention's expectations.

Impatiently, Hazelfo
rth swept her into his arms and headed for the window. “I know you dislike my meddling,” he whispered in even tones, “but I hope you will understand I want you well out of harm's way before there's any shooting.”

“
But, Mr. Hazelforth,” she returned, hanging her head, “I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid the shooting's already been done. But at least,” she added brightly, “I haven't murdered anyone!”

****

Having left Caesar and Brutus securely locked in her chamber, Cat led Hazelforth down the stairs, first to the library. Much to Cat's chagrin, Audrey was nowhere to be seen and the French doors to the garden stood open. “Oh, dear!” Cat cried, “I do hope she hasn't gone and untied those two!” She quickly crossed to the desk and found there a short note, crudely written.

“
Listen to this,” she called to Hazelforth. “ 'Dear Miss Cat,'” she read, “ 'I am mortal sorry for my part in this wickedness and I am going far away for I know that I must hang if I am caught. Tell me mum she was right. I am a sorry girl indeed. Audrey.'”

“
I suppose I had best go down and make sure all is well belowstairs,” Hazelforth told her with a wry grin. “I hate to have come this far without playing my part in this comedy, however small.”

Although Hazelforth had listened to her story with relief and good humor (and, had she known
it, a good deal of admiration), Cat decided that it was perhaps best for her to stay where she was and allow him to at least investigate on his own. She curled herself up on the sofa, drifting in and out of sleep until, half an hour later, Hazelforth returned looking most amused.

“
You will be interested to find, Cat, that I have been playing nurse to poor Mr. D'Ashley.”

“
Poor Mr. D'Ashley indeed!” she snorted.

“
Yes. It seems your Audrey did not make her escape without spending some time berating the fellow and, finally, knocking him over the head with a heavy piece of crockery. I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he is indeed in sorry shape.”

“
Good,” pronounced Cat. “I hope it shall repay him for a small fraction of the indignities he visited upon poor Caesar and Brutus. But, you know, I am quite worried about Audrey. I know she's done her share of mischief, but I can't help feeling sorry for her at least. If Snagworth and D'Ashley were lured by fabled treasure, at least her motives were less despicable, for I believe she fancied herself in love with that villain.”

“
So, tell me, Cat,” Hazelforth went on, joining her on the sofa, “just what is this treasure I keep hearing about? It seems to have attracted all sorts of unsavory types, from—my young cousins on the day of Cecily's wedding to the churls below.”

“
Indeed, Mr. Hazelforth,” Cat allowed hesitantly, “I am exceedingly mortified to reveal that family secret. It does not speak well for us at all. It seems, however, I must come clean if I am to have any tranquility in life. It is like this. You see, a certain forebear of mine, several generations removed, was a notorious pinch-penny. He wished to cultivate the fields hereabouts, but was loath to pay to have the land cleared. So, I am ashamed to say he caused rumor of a lavish treasure to be spread and put it about that an enormous amount of gold had been buried beneath one of the stumps in the west acreage. Despicable! But the common folk spent many a long night (for their day labor was committed to him as well) uprooting those stumps until the fields were clear. We've always been too ashamed to admit the story publicly, but that's the truth of the treasure of Sparrowell Hall.”

“
Well, Cat,” Hazelforth laughed, “I hope I do not have to fear that penurious tendency in you as well!”

“
Indeed, Mr. Hazelforth, if you had seen my last bill from the bookseller, no such thought would ever have occurred to you.”

“
Cat,” he murmured in some exasperation as he gathered her into his arms, “Can you not call me Charles? This 'Mr. Hazelforth' business will never do. We are to be married, after all.”

“
Oh, yes,” she whispered drowsily, snuggling into his arms, “I almost forgot, Mr. Hazelforth. You needn't be burdened with me. I mean to release you from your kind promise.”

“
And why is that?” he asked softly as she nestled more closely against him and put her weary head onto his accommodating shoulder.

“
Because you do not love me, of course,” she answered, as she drifted at last to sleep. Hazelforth shook his head. So that was the way of it. He would not disturb her now, but as soon as she awoke, he would express to her in unmistakable terms the depths of his love for her. He cradled her in his arms and stroked her hair for some time before he, too, succumbed to sleep.

****

It was thus that the pair was discovered in the morning, not only by Chumley, the county magistrate, and three deputies, but an extremely overwrought Mr. Bagsmith, whose agitation was brought to an even higher pitch by the sight of his client sleeping peacefully in the arms of an unknown gentleman.

“
First things first, Chumley,” he cried with a furrowed brow and alarming frown. “Fetch Parson Tweedle and we shall see them properly married before we cast the scoundrel into irons.”

Cat and Hazelforth by now started up and looked about in some surprise until they recalled the events of the night before. Chumley was ex
plaining hurriedly that the person whose arms were so charmingly engaged was not one of the villains, but a gentleman of some consequence whose efforts had been combined with his own on the previous night.

“
That changes very little,” Mr. Bagsmith harrumphed testily. “Compromise is compromise. The only difference I can possibly see is that he will not be transported after the wedding.”

“
What a farradiddle!” Cat cried, much put out at his meddling. “Why, we have been sleeping here quite
innocently.”

“
Perhaps
you
have, my love,” Hazelforth whispered, “but I fear I cannot own as much myself. My thoughts have been far from innocent.”

“
Whatever do you mean, Mr. Hazelforth?”

“
Surely, my dear, you do not wish me to explain in front of company! Now, Chumley,” he went on good-humoredly, “be a good chap and do as Mr. Bagsmith suggests. By all means, go out and find Parson Tweedle at once.” Turning to Cat he asked, “You don't mind missing out on a big church wedding do you, my dear?”

“
Oh, but Mr. Hazelforth,” Cat cried, struggling halfheartedly to extricate herself from his firm embrace, “I vow I had not meant to entrap you thus. I know you do not care for me. Is there no other way, Mr. Bagsmith?”

“
Well, Miss Catherine,” the solicitor returned with shocked indignation, “I am sure I do not know what that would be!”

“
I confess, my dear,” Hazelforth told her, tightening his grip, “I must agree with the inestimable Mr. Bagsmith. There really is nothing for it but to be wed.”

“
But Mr. Hazelforth,” she whispered urgently, “I know you do not love me and I am loath to bind you.”

Hazelforth, in spite of his deep affection, began to feel the rise of the characteristic exasperation which so many had experien
ced in their dealings with Cat.

“
Miss Mansard, for such I will call you until you relent and call me by my Christian name, will you kindly cease your foolishness? It seems then I must say it before all and sundry. I do indeed love you, and I have been bound since the moment I saw you. Is that sufficient?”

“
Why, Charles!” she cried with indignation. “Whatever do you mean by loving me all this while and never telling me? Letting me worry myself to tatters over you! Is this the price of propriety, then? That one must suffer in silent throes? If I had a piece of crockery, I should crown you with it as smartly as Audrey did her Mr. D'Ashley!”

“
Why then, my Cat, it would be imprudent indeed were I to release you for a single moment from my embrace!”

“
But, Charles, I am such a shrew!”

“
Do you imagine that I am not equal to your poor tempers? Why, I must tell you that I have sparred with the best at Jackson's parlor.”

“
Wretch!”

“
Ah, Cat! That is what I love about you most! You never disgust me with common civilities!” Turning at last to the assembled gentlemen, who were agape with conspicuous interest, Hazelforth said with some impatience, “The villains are secured in the kitchen below, thanks to this impetuous miss. Pray address your energies and inquiries to them. Now be off and don't return until Chumley's found the parson.”

As soon as they were alone, Hazelforth turned his attentions most assiduously to Cat who, after a very nominal show of protest, did not a thing to discourage them. Suddenly, however, she pulled herself from his embrace and cried,
“Heavens! How improper this will look! I cannot be married in my nightrail!”