First Season / Bride to Be (12 page)

At the drawing-room doorway, Anabel excused herself and ran up another flight. She was determined to stay in her room until it seemed likely that the gentlemen would have come up. She could not face another period of icy silence, or another exchange with Charles's mother.

She calculated correctly. When she entered the drawing room again, the whole party was there. Defiantly she crossed to sit beside Charles on a sofa. He smiled at her and turned back to his mother. The others remained as before.

Anabel watched their interaction curiously. She had not considered it until now, but Charles's devotion to his mother was uncharacteristic. It did not seem to fit his Corinthian pose. She listened to their conversation.

If asked, she would have predicted that Lady Norbury complained about her ills, questioned her son's doings, and tried to dictate to him. She was mistaken. Lady Norbury was hardly talking at all. She was listening to her son repeat some triumph he had achieved—Anabel did not completely understand what; she had missed the beginning of the anecdote—and murmuring praise and admiration as he spoke. When he finished, she added that she had always known he was superior to any man in the country, let alone London, and Charles smiled slightly, as if he acknowledged a truth rather than a compliment.

This went on for half an hour, Anabel growing more and more amazed. She had never heard such a litany of self-congratulation. They did not discuss any other person or any events but those in which he had participated. It was as if the world existed only for Charles to shine in it. She watched his face. He seemed younger. The bored mask was gone, revealing an intense, eager personality that might have been very attractive had his attention ever wandered from himself. Shaken, Anabel rose and walked over to a window, parting the curtains to look out on the moonlit drive. Charles did not seem to notice, though Lady Norbury did. Anabel's mind felt peculiarly blank. She looked out but did not really see anything.

“My mother says Charles was indulged all out of reason,” whispered a voice close beside her. Starting, she turned to find John Norbury at her side. “I heard her tell Papa so. My Aunt Norbury has insisted he was perfect since he was born.”

Anabel moved away from the window to face the room.

“I suppose we can't talk about that, either. This place makes me nervous as a cat.” He paused. “Do you like London?”

“Uh…yes, very much.”

“
I
haven't been. But I shall, as soon as I come of age.” He eyed his parents darkly.

Before Anabel could do more than wonder how to respond to this, Charles was helping his mother to her feet and looking around for her. “Mama retires early,” he said. “I shall just take her up. I won't be a moment.”

Anabel came forward to say good night. Lady Norbury acknowledged it with a nod, and the two went out.

It was as if a great weight had been lifted from the group. Mrs. Norbury leaned forward to speak to Mrs. Bramton, and the two uncles beat a hasty retreat, muttering about the smoking room. Arthur Bramton joined Anabel and John, and after a hesitant moment Cecily followed. “Whew,” Arthur murmured. “That's over. These dinners are almost more than I can stand.” Cecily cast a frightened glance at her mother, but the older women were paying no attention.

“How about a game of billiards?” suggested John. “All of us. We can trade off.”

“Right.” Arthur nodded. “Come, Cecily, I'll give you four strokes.” They all looked at Anabel.

“I must wait for Charles.”

“He'll come and find us,” said John.

She was tempted, but she did not really want to play billiards. She wanted to talk to Norbury. “No, you go on.”

John shrugged and led the others out. Anabel returned to the sofa, smiling to show that she would be happy to join in the aunts' conversation. But they were discussing some stranger's prolonged illness, and as they did not explain any of the particulars, she was soon lost.

It seemed hours before Charles reappeared. Lady Norbury had no doubt kept him as long as she could. But finally he came in, smiled at her, and held out a hand. “Come, there is something I want to show you.”

She was happy to follow. He led her downstairs to a door opening on the back terrace; they walked across it and onto a gravel path bisecting the lawn. “I should get a shawl,” said Anabel.

“It isn't cold. Come.”

She took his arm, and they walked to a copse some way from the house. The path twisted among the trees and then emerged in front of a tiny white gazebo, the interior furnished with dark green cushions. Moonlight was pouring over the small clearing in which it sat, gilding everything with silver, and the air was very soft and still. “Come,” said Charles again, and he led her up two steps and seated her on a cushion. “This has always been one of my favorite places.”

“It is lovely.”

He sat beside her and pulled her close within the circle of his arm. “You see? You don't need a shawl.” His clasp tightening, he kissed her slowly.

But Anabel was too unsettled to respond. When he drew back, she moved a little away and said, “Charles, I must talk to you about something.”

His hand caressed her shoulder. “What?”

“Has…has your mother said anything to you about me?”

“She thinks you charming.” He started to pull her close again.

“But, Charles.” She did not yield. “Did she say so?”

“I can tell what she thinks.” He sounded impatient. “She is very happy for me, for us. There is nothing for you to worry over.” And as if the issue were settled, he bent his head again, his free hand coming up to encircle her waist and mold her against him. His kiss was insistent and compelling. Anabel found her thoughts becoming less clear. Could she have imagined Lady Norbury's resistance? He must know his own mother better than she, after all. And did it matter?

But as Charles's expert lips and hands once more lulled her into a kind of blank surrender, a remote part of Anabel objected. She stiffened. She was nearly reclining on the cushions by this time, Charles bending over her. She struggled to sit up.

For a moment he prevented her. Then he seemed to recollect himself and drew back. “You are right, my love,” he agreed. “We had best go in. This is a dangerous meeting place.” He looked around the tiny space as if reviewing fond memories, but he stood, pulling her up against his side and moving toward the door. “We must decide on a wedding date, however, my darling. I am on my best behavior, but I am not superhuman.” They walked outside and back along the path. “What about three weeks from tonight? We needn't make too great a fuss. That should give you time to prepare.”

“I…I must think,” she replied breathlessly, conscious of a strong desire to put off this decision.

He chuckled. “I am happy to know that I can so disrupt your thoughts. We will talk it over tomorrow.” They had reached the terrace door again. “But tonight, one last farewell.” Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her passionately again.

In London, the following morning dawned bright and clear, but in the schoolroom at Lady Goring's house, storm signals appeared as soon as the children finished their breakfast. “I don't want to do lessons,” Susan told her brothers. “I want to go riding first, as we do at home.”

“We can't,” responded William. “We haven't any horses, and we can't hire them ourselves.”

“Why not?” Susan's little face was screwed into a mighty scowl.

“Well…” William turned to Nicholas.

“They wouldn't give them to us,” the latter said. “And anyway, we wouldn't be allowed to ask. Perhaps Uncle Christopher will take us again soon.”

“I hate it here!” declared Susan. “At home I can go riding whenever I like.”

Though this was not strictly true, neither of the boys dared point this out to her.

“When is Mama coming home?” she added. “She has been gone forever.”

“This afternoon,” answered Nick. “She promised to sit with us at our dinner.”

“Will she bring that man?”

“No.” Then, realizing that he could not guarantee this, Nick amended, “I don't think she will.”

“She has been visiting him,” replied his sister accusingly.

“His family, yes.”

“And when they are married, he will live with us all the time, will he not?”

Nicholas nodded wearily. He recognized Susan's mood. She was at her most intractable, and it was going to be a tiresome day.

“I don't like him!”

“We know that. Neither do we.”

The governess came in then, and their conversation was cut off. But throughout the morning lessons Susan glowered, and William and Nicholas waited apprehensively for the explosion that always followed these sulks. After one blast of temper Susan would be all right again, they knew.

It did not come. Instead Susan grew quieter, and when they were dismissed for luncheon, she declared she was not hungry and was going to her room. The boys could only be grateful for her unusual restraint. They discussed it over bread and milk at the nursery table. “I expect she's up to something,” said William. “She always is when she gets quiet.”

Nick frowned. “But what?”

His brother shrugged, concentrating on his plate.

Before they finished, Nurse came in. “Where is Miss Susan?” she asked them.

“In her room. She said she wasn't hungry.”

“She must eat her luncheon. Go and fetch her at once.”

“But we're eating,” objected Nick, not at all eager to confront his sister.

Nurse put her hands on her hips and glared, and both boys rose and went along the hall to Susan's room. “I expect she'll let loose now,” sighed Nick. William nodded glumly.

Susan's bedchamber was empty, however. There was no sign that she had been there since rising. Exchanging a puzzled look, they went to the schoolroom. It was also untenanted. “Why would she go downstairs?” wondered William.

“Perhaps she changed her mind about eating and went to ask Cook for something special,” suggested his brother. They descended to the kitchen, but Susan had not been seen there. Frowning now, they hurriedly looked into the rooms on the other floors. Susan was nowhere in the house.

“I
told
you she was up to something,” said William as they paused before her room again. “Where can she have gone?”

Nicholas was thinking hard. “Go and give Nurse some excuse,” he said. “We must plan.”

“What excuse?” answered William helplessly.

“Think of something!”

Shaking his head, he went, only to return in a moment with the news that Nurse wasn't there. “I think she went down for more milk. The pitcher was gone.”

“Good.” Nick pulled his brother into Susan's room and shut the door. “We must decide what we are going to do.”

“About what?”

“Susan's run away.”

“Run…! How do you know?”

“I checked the room while you were gone. She's taken her cloak and the net purse Mama gave her at Christmas. You know she keeps all her pocket money in it. And…” He paused for effect. “The cat's gone as well.”

William snorted. “He's always gone somewhere.”

“No. She's been very careful since he ate the leg of lamb in the kitchen. She made this bed for him and everything.” He indicated a nest of old blankets in the corner. “She's gone.”

“But…where?”

Nick shook his head. “Home, I expect. Remember her complaining this morning?”

“But she can't get home by herself!” William was aghast.

“Try convincing Susan of that.”

Silently they thought of their sister's stubbornness. “Mama will be furious,” said William. “We must tell someone, start a search.”

“Ye-es.” Nick was hesitant.

“Of course we must. Come on!” William started toward the door.

“Wait a moment.”

He hesitated with one hand on the doorknob.

“I think we should go after her ourselves. That way, no one need know she has run away.”

William gaped at him. “Have you run mad? We should never get her back here even if we found her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she won't listen to us, bacon brain. She never does.”

“I believe I can convince her.”

William shook his head and started to turn the knob.

“Are we just to sit in this house, then, as we have been doing for weeks and weeks?” Nick's voice was exasperated. “What's happened to you, William? Have you turned cow-hearted?”

“This isn't one of your pranks, Nicholas! Susan is wandering about London alone. It's not a question of—”

“We could find her. We know how she thinks.”

“I don't!”

“Oh, come, William. Let us at least
try
.”

The older Wyndham hesitated, obviously torn between duty and the call of adventure. “I suppose we could look around for an hour or so, then come and fetch help if we had no luck.”

“That's the ticket,” agreed Nick, ready to accept even partial capitulation.

His brother frowned, then gave in. “Oh, very well.” And a few minutes later, having gathered the necessary supplies, the two boys slipped unseen out the front door and into the street.

* * *

It was hardly half an hour after that that the bell rang to announce a caller. No footman or maid appeared in the hall, and after a pause the bell rang again. Georgina Goring was hurrying across the upper landing just then, and she hesitated, looking worried, then ran down the stairs and opened the wide front door a bit, peering out through the narrow aperture. “Oh, Mr. Hanford!” She pulled the door wider. “I'm sorry no one came. We are all rather upset. The children have disappeared.” Seeing a movement behind him, she drew in her breath. “Susan! Do you have them, then? Thank God!”

Christopher was frowning. “Susan came to see me about an hour ago. Are the boys missing as well?”

“I did not come to see you!” declared Susan irately. “I was running away, and I thought you would help me.” She pushed past them and into the hall. “Have William and Nicholas gone, too? If I had known, I would have waited for them.”

Christopher exchanged a wry glance with Georgina. “They aren't here,” she said. “Nurse discovered it a few minutes ago and fell into a fit of hysterics.”

“Nurse did?” responded Susan with ghoulish glee. “She is silly.”

Hanford shut the door and went down on one knee beside the little girl. “Susan, where have Nicholas and William gone? Running away is not going to solve anything. You must see that.”

“It would,” insisted Susan, “if you would help me. I do not see why you are being so stuffy. Mama can live with that man, and I will live with
you
.” She gazed at him with a mixture of appeal and irritation.

His face showed pain for a moment, but he answered merely, “I fear that isn't possible, Susan.” Georgina, watching him, bit her lower lip; she thought she had never known anyone so noble. “Now, where have they gone?” asked Hanford again.

“I don't know.” She sounded uninterested. “They didn't tell
me
they were leaving. They don't tell me anything.”

He took her shoulders and looked into her green eyes. “Is that true? Did you not plan to run away at the same time?”

“No! William mentioned it once, but Nicholas said it was wrong, and he agreed with him. They worry about everything!” She considered the matter. “I suppose they only went because
I
did, and they finally saw what a splendid idea it was.”

Christopher stood. “I think she is telling the truth. She does not know where they are.”

“What are we going to do?” said Georgina. “Anabel will be so worried.”

“I believe I can guess their object.”

She gazed at him in admiration. “What?”

“I imagine they have gone after Susan.”

“Oh!” Georgina looked at the little girl with amazement.

Susan crowed with laughter. “They have! They have! How stupid boys are.”

“I think I can find them,” added Hanford, eyeing Susan with amusement and resignation. “I wager they've started for home, thinking that she went there.”

“As if I would be so silly,” exclaimed the child. “I know I cannot get so far alone.” She glanced at Hanford with annoyance. “I thought
you
would take me.”

“I am sorry I could not.” He turned to Georgina. “I will leave Susan with you. And I shall hope to return with the boys before the day is out. Tell Anabel.”

Georgina nodded. “She should be back at any moment.”

His face clouded, remembering where she had gone, then he straightened and nodded. Georgina thought again how splendid he was and wondered how her cousin could reject him for Sir Charles Norbury.

“I am going with you,” declared Susan.

“No. You must stay here and see your mother.”

“I don't want to see her! I
shall
come. I shall!”

Christopher, impatient to be gone now that he had formed a plan, was unwilling to take the time to cajole her. “Very well. We should be no more than a few hours,” he told Georgina. “Susan will be just as well with me. Indeed, she will be less trouble, I imagine. You can tell them where we have gone.”

Georgina nodded earnestly.

“Don't worry.” He smiled at her. “I'm sure they are all right, and I shall have them back very soon.”

“You are so good to do this!” she could not help but say.

He raised his eyebrows. “The children are very dear to me.” Susan grasped his hand and pulled it impatiently. “Yes, we are going. We will see you later today, Miss Goring.”

“Good-bye.”

When she closed the door behind them, Georgina leaned on it, her face dreamy with admiration. Anabel might be older and more experienced than she, but she was still very foolish. Anyone could see that Mr. Hanford was far finer than Sir Charles. If only he… But no, he loved Anabel; that was plain. How could she fail to see it? Or did she know? Was she simply letting him love her and enjoying the sensation, while she dallied with Norbury? Georgina frowned. She had seen such behavior here in London and found it shocking. Some members of the
haut ton
lived by a set of rules far removed from those her countrified father had instilled in her. She had not thought that Anabel was one—but Norbury? She frowned in doubt. It would be unbearable if Christopher Hanford were being so grievously hurt on a whim. Even as this idea made her scowl the bell rang again. Georgina started and turned to open the door.

Anabel swept in, looking irritable, followed by Sir Charles and a servant carrying her case. Georgina started to speak.

“My lady!” shrieked Nurse from the upper landing. “Oh, my lady, thank God you are home! The children are gone. They've disappeared!”

Anabel stared up at her in horror.

“They were just as usual when I got them up,” she continued. “They had their lessons. But during luncheon I went down for more milk, and when I returned, they were gone. Oh, my lady, do you think they've been kidnapped?”

“Nonsense,” drawled Sir Charles. “I daresay they have simply gone to the park or some such thing. Get hold of yourself, woman.” He, too, seemed annoyed. Georgina glared at him, and Nurse bridled.

“Have you searched?” asked Anabel in a strangled voice.

“All the men are looking,” Nurse replied. “Lady Goring was out, but I have sent after her. I would have gone myself, but—”

“It is all right, Anabel,” began Georgina.

“Of course it is,” interrupted Norbury. “You are all making a great fuss about nothing. I daresay they will come home directly, very pleased with the uproar they have caused.”

“They do not go out alone in London,” said Anabel. She gazed about the hall, distracted. “I must look for them. May I use your carriage?”

“A traveling chaise? You would be much better off—”

“I don't care what sort of carriage it is!”

He stiffened at her tone, “Very well. Of course.” “Anabel,” called Georgina, but she was waved aside as they climbed up and urged the driver to start.