Carola Dunn (23 page)

Miranda ladled out the oxtail soup. “Sop some bread in it,” she suggested to Mr. Daviot as he looked gloomily from his bowl of soup to his bowl of gruel. “That should be easy to eat and it will help allay the pangs of starvation.”

“I’m that sorry, sir!” said Charlie. Eager to make amends, he cut a thick slice from the loaf, trimmed off the crusts, diced the soft part, and scooped the bits into Mr. Daviot’s soup. Lady Wiston was right, he was an amiable ox unless one chanced to be in his way.

“Tell us what happened, ma’am,” Miranda urged.

“Well, you will have heard how I was carried off from home, so I need not describe that.” Lady Wiston smiled at Charlie, who blushed and concentrated on his soup. “I was shut up in a travelling carriage with the doors locked and the blinds closed, and bars across the windows. By the light of a lantern hung from the ceiling, I saw Charlie on the opposite seat—I did not know his name then, of course.”

“No more I didn’t know yourn, my lady. His lordship showed me them false papers what said you was mad, but he never telled me ‘twas a ladyship he wanted me to grab, nor yet as she was his own auntie.”

“Did you arst?” Danny demanded. “You’ve fell into bad comp’ny, me lad, if you goes a-grabbing of folks wi’out so much as knowing who they be. Dunno what my Mary’ll say when she hears a cove what’d do such a thing was once a pal o’ mine.”

“I never done it afore,” Charlie said humbly, “and I ain’t never going to do it agin.”

“Mind you don’t!”

Miranda decided it was time to intervene. “Lord Snell did not travel with you, ma’am? Tilly thought not, but I could scarce believe it. He confined you in the coach with a...with Charlie?”

“Oh no, dear, not just the two of us. You must allow Godfrey credit for more sense of delicacy than that.”

“Delicacy!” Miranda exclaimed, and Mr. Daviot snorted.

“Decorum, then,” said Lady Wiston. “At least, he provided a female attendant, in the shape of a hatchet-faced gaoler by the name of Quin. She claimed to be a nurse, but the very sight of her would be enough to curdle an invalid’s stomach. Fortunately, she proved to be addicted to gin.”

Charlie nodded. “Four penn’orth o’ Blue Ruin and th’owd squeeze-crab wouldn’t know Paul’s steeple from Tyburn tree.”

“However, we did not discover that until later. I was a trifle flustered at first, so I lay down and practised my deep breathing exercises until I was calm.”

Mr. Daviot’s lips twitched, but he had learned better than to try to smile. Miranda observed him as he dribbled another spoonful of soup and sops into his mouth. His colour was much improved, and he no longer held his head stiffly as if the slightest motion was agony. Though no doubt he had a prodigious headache, nothing was seriously amiss. With luck, her remedies had averted the worst of the swelling and bruises.

He caught her eye. Something in his rueful look made her wonder if he felt he had made a cake of himself, or that Charlie had made a cake of him.

But Charlie was twice his size, and had given him no chance to defend himself. With time to think, time to speak, time to plan, Peter Daviot would outmanoeuvre Chopper Charlie with the utmost ease.

Miranda was about to tell him so when she realized she had not heard a word of Lady Wiston’s tale for several minutes. Something about piquet?

Piquet?

“Lord knows I ain’t clever,” said Charlie, “but I ain’t thick as two planks, neither, and I plays a fair hand at piquet, I does. Don’t I, Danny?”

Danny’s sour grunt suggested he had found out the hard way.

“Beat me handily, she did,” his erstwhile friend informed him. “That was when I knowed for sure she weren’t mad.”

Miranda regarded her employer with deep suspicion.

“I confessed to cheating,” Lady Wiston assured her, “but he just seemed to think that was even cleverer.”

“Strewth, who ever heard o’ such a thing?” Charlie demanded admiringly. “It takes a downy cove to Greek the cards wivout getting nabbed and here’s a gentry mort as gulled me like any flat. The rig she run, well, you can’t tell me she’s out o’ her senses!”

Though Miranda was not so sure it was a rational act to cheat—let alone admit to cheating—a prize-fighter with whom one was confined in a small space, she did not dispute his conclusion. She glanced at Mr. Daviot. He raised his eyes to heaven, so she assumed he agreed.

Lady Wiston caught his look. “Whatever you think of the state of my senses,” she said tartly, “Mrs. Quin was by then bereft of hers. I cannot approve encouraging overindulgence in spirits, but in the circumstances I found it possible to reconcile my conscience. Charlie abstracted the key to the carriage doors from her pocket. At the next post-house, we descended and locked her in.”

“What about the coachman?” Miranda asked.

“We had no coachman, just postilions hired at each stage who cared not a groat who their passengers were.”

“Where was Snell?” Mr. Daviot croaked.

“Oh, Godfrey drove on ahead right from the start, to arrange for my reception. He must have been at Northwaite, or nearly, by that time. Charlie simply paid off the last postilion, hired another, and sent the carriage and Mrs. Quin on their way, while we hired a post-chaise and turned back to Stamford.”

“So at the next stop,” said Miranda, “the man would obtain no response from within the carriage. The doors were locked, so it must have taken some time to discover the only passenger was insensible.”

“I’d’ve gave a monkey,” Charlie said wistfully, “to see his face when he found out he weren’t going to get paid.”

“I cannot let the poor man be left out of pocket,” said Lady Wiston, “nor the innkeeper who supplied the horses. Miranda, pray make a note to reimburse them.”

“That is surely Snell’s responsibility,” said Mr. Daviot, “but no doubt he would leave them to whistle for it—as he was left whistling for you, Aunt Artemis. The coach would go no farther with neither pay nor orders, so he was left quite in the dark as to what had become of you.”

“Yes, dear,” Lady Wiston said anxiously, “and I trust he will not decide until the morning to search for me. Perhaps we should have gone farther, but I was rather fatigued by the time we reached this inn. We stopped to rest and eat. Do you think we should go on towards London immediately?”

Her nephew reflected for a moment. “No, I think not. You may be a little rested but we are not, and you are safer by far on the road with an entourage than at home without.”

“Oh Peter dear, I am so glad you found me. I was not at all certain what to do for the best.”

“It was not Mr. Daviot who found you, ma’am,” Miranda pointed out with a smile. “We should have passed like ships in the night if it were not for Mudge.”

“Yes, the dear creature. I daresay I leave a trail of aniseed wherever I go, apparent only to a dog’s nose. How very fortunate that I happened to have just renewed the supply of comfits in my pocket.”

Mr. Daviot sighed. “If he is the hero of the hour, I suppose we shall have to take him home with us after all. But not until the morning. You requested chambers for us, Miss Carmichael, but if you have no objection, I believe we ought to stay together. You and my aunt may share the chamber, and the rest of us shall sleep here in the parlour. Do you not agree?”

“Undoubtedly.” She was pleased to be consulted, still more pleased to note that he now spoke without great difficulty. Yet his return to formality struck a chill to her heart. Not so long since, he had held her in his arms and called her Miranda, “my dear girl,” even “love.”

With no sign that he recalled their brief moment of intimacy, he said jauntily, “Good, that’s settled then. As for what is to be done about dear Godfrey and his plots, I for one shall be able to counter-plot much better after a proper night’s sleep.”

“Miranda dear,” said Lady Wiston, “you have not taken a bite for the past five minutes. You are more in need of rest than nourishment, I vow. Off to bed with you. I shall join you shortly. Heavens, I shall have to beg a bed-gown from the innkeeper’s wife. Did you bring one?”

“Yes, ma’am, and Baxter packed one for you.”

Miranda was more than willing to retire. She wanted to talk to Lady Wiston about Peter, but not until the morning. After a proper night’s sleep, she would be able to think clearly about him—she hoped.

Chapter 19

Broad daylight showed through the blue dimity curtains when a brisk knocking on the chamber door dragged Miranda up through foggy layers of sleep. She could have sworn her head had only just touched the pillow.

 “Time to wake up, ladies,” came Peter Daviot’s unbearably cheerful voice. “Hot water in five minutes.”

On the other side of the feather bolster, her bed-fellow stirred.

“Are you awake, ma’am?” Miranda whispered.

“Yes, dear, more or less. Good morning, Peter,” Lady Wiston called. “A dish of tea would be more than welcome.”

“Your wish is my command, Aunt.”

“Dear boy,” she murmured fondly.

Dear boy? Last night’s quandary flooded back to the forefront of Miranda’s mind. How was she to ask Lady Wiston’s advice about her beloved nephew without offending her, distressing her, or setting her at odds with him?

Fortunately, she was not at all easy to offend. Miranda lay trying to think of a way to avoid the other two undesirable alternatives. For the first time in years she wished she had a mother to consult, a sister, someone whose first loyalty was to her, or at least an impartial friend.

Perhaps she ought to keep her perplexity to herself. Yet she burned to disburden her troubled mind, and she was quite sure Lady Wiston had her welfare at heart.

 She was gathering her courage when a chambermaid came in carrying a tray laden with tea-things and two cans of hot water for washing. To Miranda’s overstretched nerves, it seemed that the girl regarded her with out of the ordinary curiosity. All too clearly she recalled the landlord’s look of shocked disapproval when Mr. Daviot announced she was not his wife.

The maid left. Miranda poured tea for Lady Wiston and took the first turn at the washstand. Her back safely to her ladyship, she rushed into speech.

“Ma’am, Mr. Daviot and I travelled together for a whole day and night.”

“Yes, dear, and I am excessively grateful to both of you.”

“Oh no, I did not mean...that is, I don’t expect particular thanks, truly. How could I not do all in my power to save you from such a fate? Though indeed I don’t believe my presence was useful. I fear I was simply incapable of sitting at home waiting for news.”

“I quite understand, dear, but I assure you your presence is the greatest comfort to me. Though gentlemen are all very well in their way, there are times when one feels sorely in need of female companionship.”

“That is just what I wanted to talk to you about.” Hesitating, Miranda reached for a towel and dried her face.

“Yes, dear?”

“You see, when I left London with Mr. Daviot, we were in such a hurry I did not stop to consider the impropriety of travelling with a gentleman without a chaperon. Mrs. Redpath looked very oddly when—”

“Mrs. Redpath?” Lady Wiston asked in astonishment. “Marjory? What has she to say to anything?”

“Heavens, we have heard your story, but you have not heard ours. The reason we were so slow to catch up with you is that we were not perfectly certain where you had been taken. Mr. Daviot thought it best to check whether you were at Redpath Manor before we embarked upon a long journey to the north.”

“But why should Godfrey take me to Redpath Manor?”

Miranda hated to disillusion her, but she had to know none of the Admiral’s nephews was to be relied upon. “Lord Snell was the instigator, ma’am, but they were all in it together, all four cousins. Surely I mentioned overhearing him plotting with them?”

“Perhaps,” Lady Wiston said sadly, climbing out of bed and taking Miranda’s place at the washstand. “I daresay I was in too much of a pucker to listen properly. How very shocking. What can I have done, Miranda, to make them betray me?”

“Nothing at all! They care naught for what you do, only for what you possess. Their only interest is your money. Lord Snell offered to support Mr. Daviot for life if he stood aside, and I am persuaded he made similar promises to the others for their cooperation. Of course, Mr. Daviot refused.”

“Dear Peter!”

Miranda pulled on her clean chemise and poured herself a cup of tea before she spoke again. “Mr. Daviot is all that is honourable, but I fear he has little respect for propriety. Indeed, I doubt he is even aware that my reputation might be compromised by our journey together. He cannot be counted upon to do the gentlemanly thing.”

“To offer for your hand? My dear, do you wish it?”

Put into words, it all sounded horridly calculating. What a mull she was making of it, Miranda thought, hastily demurring. “Not in the least! I should not accept if he did make an offer.” At least, not if he proposed marriage solely from a sense of obligation.

“But you are concerned about your reputation? Pray help me with these hooks, dear. I am glad I was abducted in trousers, so much more comfortable for travelling, though the landlord was rather taken aback.”

“You would not care for that. But such a look as he gave me when Mr. Daviot told him we were not married! And did you not notice how the maids and waiters gaped at me?”

“At all of us, what with my costume and Mudge, not to mention Danny and Charlie, who are striking figures, you know!”

“Mudge!” Miranda exclaimed, fastening the last of her ladyship’s hooks and turning to the small looking-glass to pin up her hair. “I never took him out after dinner. I must hurry.”

“No need. Charlie offered to take him out last night and this morning. I gave him—Charlie—a few comfits, though he vowed he is not afraid of being bitten. The dear fellow is prodigious eager to be of service. He is sadly mortified by his recent mistakes.”

“I am excessively glad he has seen the error of his ways. A pitched battle between him and Danny would have been too frightful to behold, when I consider the damage he did to Mr. Daviot with a single blow.”

“You kept your composure admirably, dear, and I believe your ministrations saved poor Peter from a much more uncomfortable time.” Lady Wiston gave Miranda a thoughtful look. “As for your reputation, it cannot be regarded as besmirched since you had both Danny and Mudge to play chaperon.”