Christie (22 page)

"How long will you be in New York, Stanhope?"

"Oh, about a fortnight, I should say. Why—?"

"That complicates matters a bit, but I suppose we shall have to manage. How do you travel home?"

"Why, by ship, of course; but see here, Rutledge, what's this all about?"

"A very simple but important matter which I am about to entrust to your discretion and safekeeping. Stanhope, I wish you to provide both sanctuary and safe passage home for your niece, Christianna Trevellyan."

Within twenty minutes, Barnaby had laid out all the details of his request and plan to a startled Philip Stanhope, who immediately agreed to help; and within the hour Barnaby was back at his hotel, calmly and efficiently dispensing orders to his fugitive band to facilitate their brief trip to Philip's temporary residence across town.

As they entered the carriage Barnaby had hired, Barnaby's instructions to the driver were brief and definite.

"Do not travel the main road. Use only back lanes and alleys, if they are wide enough, to reach this
address. I will pay well for any damage caused by poor road surfaces. If you succeed in getting your passengers there without—ah—any problems, you may return here for a bonus reward of three gold pieces. Is that clear, my man?"

The driver of the hired vehicle smiled widely and he responded enthusiastically. "Yes, sir! Three pieces in gold beyond my fare for delivering these folks without detection and in one piece. Er—detection by what?"

"The gentleman is wearing a russet-colored riding jacket and sits a large, coal-black stallion. You are to avoid him at all costs. If you succeed, the young lady here will write you a note to that effect and upon its presentation to me, you will receive your gold."

Then Barnaby addressed Christie. "My dear, I would feel better if I were going with you, but I must be here should your husband return early. Be sure to stay hidden within the carriage, keeping well away from the windows. And don't worry about Thunder. My man will be riding over with him after dark. That ink is, at best, a makeshift disguise. Your husband is no fool, and should he see the animal in daylight, I'm afraid recognition would be swift.

"And now, my dear, I must say farewell. Let us hope all goes according to plan."

Christie turned to face Barnaby, then, trying to present him with some measure of the calmness she knew him to favor, but as she viewed the dear old face, her resolve left her, and throwing her arms about his slim shoulders, she muttered fiercely in watery tones, "Oh, Uncle Barnaby, what would I have done without you? You dear man! I should have
been lost completely without your wonderful, wise old counsel and help!"

"Now, my dear, if an old bachelor can't be of use when his dearest friends need him, what good is he at all? Being available to help a Trevellyan has been a major function of mine for many years, you know." The cool blue eyes assumed a twinkle she had only seen sparingly over the years she had known him and Christie knew then she loved Barnaby Rutledge as she loved her father.

"Off with you now, my dears, all of you, and godspeed. And remember, if you should need me, you need only send word. I won't try to contact you personally while we remain in the city. Garrett might trace such a visit. But there will be someone available at my office, night and day, until you leave for Virginia. Reach me there, if you must. Good-by." Then he settled Christie snugly in the carriage with Lula and Jasper and, closing the door, signaled the driver to be off.

Less than an hour later they arrived without mishap at Philip Stanhope's hotel where Christie was greeted warmly by her uncle.

"Christie, my dear, you're looking more beautiful than ever! It's good to see your ordeal hasn't had any effect on this lovely face! Come, let me show you to your rooms."

Philip's familiar smile was like a balm for Christie's raw nerves, which had felt taut as a bowstring from the anxiety caused by the ride across town, and she readily gave herself into his care.

"Uncle Philip, thank you so much for understanding about this awful mess I've made of everything," she said as they reached the room set aside for her use.

"Think nothing of it, Christie. You wouldn't be the first person in the world to make a mistake in marrying, you know. It's just fortunate you realized it as soon as you did," he said, lighting a cigar with a spill from beside the fireplace.-

Christie turned from the bureau where she had gone to remove her bonnet.

"Then you don't think me a foolish child for acting as I did? You won't think me a fallen woman when I'm finally d-divorced?" She almost couldn't push the final word out.

"No, no, dear Christie. Perhaps you were foolish to have married the man in the first place, but who could pronounce you anything but wise—and courageous—to recognize your mistake and have the wisdom to correct it? Really didn't care for the man, you know—met him at your birthday ball. No, I positively did not like him! You're lucky you left when you did. I can see no good having been able to come out of such a union. No good at all!"

"I hadn't remembered you'd met Garrett. Perhaps, if I'd known of your assessment of him, you could have shown me how to avoid this entire sorry affair. You always were so clever, dear Uncle," she said, trying to smile at him while secretly, inside, she realized that at the time she had made the fateful ride to the
Marianne,
there probably wasn't a person in the world who could have "talked any sense into her," as Aunt Celia would have put it, so set had she been on assuaging her threatened pride. Her pride! She winced inwardly. See all that it had gotten her!

She made a mental note to begin working on diminishing the role her pride would play in the future, whatever that should hold!

Philip was talking to Lula, giving instructions on the routine he liked his household to follow, and after a few more words of comfort to his niece, he announced that he was off on some business and would see them at supper. Then he closed the door and left.

When she was sure he had gone, Lula spat into the fireplace and gave a disgusted snort of disapproval. "Sho' cain't wait t' be done wid dis paht o' de trip! Don' lahk dat man, nohow!"

"Uncle Philip? Why, Lula, why not?" Christie was indeed surprised to hear of Lula's dislike for her uncle, for aside from Barnaby, she was the only person she'd known who simply did not take to Philip Stanhope.

"Nevah did care fo' a man whut don' look me in de eye when he talk t' me," said Lula, "an' dat man, he wuz'n lookin' even neah mah eyes!" She spat again. "Wondah whut he got t' hahd?"

"Oh, Lu! You're being silly! Why everybody just adores Uncle Philip! You'd really appreciate how nice he is if you ever met his wife, my Aunt Margaret. Now, there's someone it doesn't take much to dislike! And if she isn't enough, my cousins, Melissa and Belinda, just finish off the package! You'd better be thankful they're not along with us on this trip."

Lula mumbled something unintelligible and proceeded to change the subject as she suggested Christie take a nap to try to recover from the exhausting events of the morning; and Christie
readily complied.

Once lying on the bed, sleep came quickly, for which she was later grateful. She didn't want to think, just now, of any of the events that had led her to where she was. They were just too painful. And, if in sleep, her dreams were troubled by a pair of emerald eyes and remembrance of a warm male body near hers, she could, when she awakened, dismiss this as merely dreams, and therefore not to be taken seriously.

They remained in New York with Philip for twelve more days before leaving for Charleston on the
Southern Star;
it was a day later in leaving than the
Charleston Belle
which, Christie was quick to explain, they could not travel on. The
Southern Star
also sailed to Charleston, but not before stopping for a two-day layover in Richmond. This was where Philip planned to have Charles meet them, and he had sent word to Windreach to tell him of their plans.

Unfortunately, Charles never received Philip's message, for the day after Christie had sailed from New York, Charles was being shown into Barnaby Rutledge's hotel suite there. Barnaby was more than a little dismayed at his good friend's surprise appearance.

"But Charles, if you'd only stayed put at home, Christie would be on her way to meet you at this very moment. As it is, I happen to know she's already left and expects to meet you in Richmond in three to four days; and here you are, in New York!"

"Barnaby, you're right, of course, as usual. But I simply couldn't just sit at home waiting for my only child to arrive—sometime—when I knew how she
must be suffering from this—this tragic chain of events she's been through. Tell me, Barnaby, how was she when you left her?"

"Well enough, Charles, considering what's happened. But as long as you're here, I have some thoughts I'd like to put to you on the matter, if I may?"

Charles smiled at his old friend, warmth breaking through the strain that clearly showed on his open face as he sat across from Barnaby in the small parlor where they were talking.

"Could I stop you, Barnaby? And what would the advantage be if I did? I've never known you to
give judgment of
any but the soundest advice, my friend."

Barnaby smiled back at him as he poured him a cup of tea from the pewter teapot his manservant had set on the table nearby. "When Christie arrives home, the temptation will be to set into motion work for a quick and quiet divorce."

Charles nodded as he sipped the steaming tea.

"Do not pursue it," said Barnaby, and at Charles's look of surprise, he continued more rapidly. "At least, do as much as you can to delay the action. We both agree that Christie's happiness is paramount. Well, it may be that by postponing the dissolution of her marriage, we may be able to bring about the greatest measure of happiness we could ever wish her. I have been with her, Charles, and seen the look in her eyes when she speaks of Garrett Randall. It is the look of someone already deeply in love. Moreover, I've had the chance to sound Randall out. He, too, is not without—er—involvement in the marriage, though he'd be the last to admit it at this
juncture. He's a man living under a heavy burden at the moment, too tied up in a painful part of his past to realize the potential for happiness in his marriage to our Christie. But I think he's beginning to find out, and when that happens . . . Charles, I've never seen two people more right for each other! At least, not since you and Jennifer. Given the chance, these two can make a match that might teach us all something about loving. Believe me, I've never been one to play at serious matters or take unnecessary risks. You know that better than anyone."

Looking calmly at his old friend, Charles had to agree. Barnaby was seldom wrong in his judgment of people, and listening now to his assessment of the matter, Charles felt a bit easier as he contemplated his daughter's situation.

"You know, Barnaby, your words offer the most comfort I've had since I learned of this whole frightening matter. I've had the strangest set of mixed feelings about it all along. I liked Garrett Randall from the moment I met him; but more than that, I respected the man. There's a strength of character there you rarely meet up with. I'm sure you've seen it, too.

"You can imagine my distress when I first heard of the elopement. Somehow, I wouldn't have expected that of him. He just isn't the sort who would refuse to address matters out in the open . . . doesn't seem made for sneaking around behind a man's back, if you know what I mean."

Barnaby smiled knowingly, pouring him another cup of tea, as Charles continued.

"But if I know my daughter, she had as much to do

with that little business as Garrett—perhaps more! She has, more than once, been the cause of my doing things out of my usual—er—style, shall I say?"

Barnaby nodded and smiled again.

"Well, I'm willing to wait on the divorce on the chance they'll get together again, but what makes you so sure Randall won't divorce her first?"

"Because I've seen him several times since she ran from him," returned Barnaby, "and each time he appeared in a greater state of resolution to find his wife and strangle her for leaving him."

At Charles's quick look of chagrin, Barnaby chuckled.

"Relax, Charles. No man who doesn't care makes such noises. His pride's been damaged, and he's not a man to react lightly to that. You wouldn't like him if he were. My guess is that as his anger increases, it's really acting as a barometer of what his deeper feelings are. Not that it won't be a stormy meeting when he finally does locate the lass. But you know how, after the greatest storms at sea, the weather has a way of turning wonderful. ..."

Charles smiled again, at Barnaby's words, although back in his mind he tried to push aside a nagging doubt that said, "Remember, too, that sometimes ships founder in storms at sea, and those who perish on them never get to see the calm that comes thereafter."

"Let us hope, Barnaby," he finally said, "that the ship of this strange marriage we speak of can somehow weather the storm through which it must sail. For all our sakes, let us hope!"

Chapter Fifteen