Jane Ashford (23 page)

Laura had been walking the streets of Mayfair for nearly an hour before she looked about to see where she was. She had rushed upstairs, pulled out her old brown cloak, and thrown it on without looking in the mirror. Hurrying out the back door, she had simply walked, paying no attention to where she went and trying to think what to do. It had no doubt been foolish to run away, but she could not face Eliot now that he knew everything. She had wanted so much to make him respect her, and just when some hopes had begun to grow, all was lost. He would never forgive her for going directly against his orders and disgracing his name.

She came out into a wider thoroughfare and turned aimlessly to the left. Here, the shops were larger, and she looked blankly at the goods displayed as she went. Gradually her pace slowed, and she paused before a fishmonger’s to make a plan. Perhaps she could return to her aunts, she thought. They would be very angry and disappointed when she told them the story, but they would not refuse to take her in. Then she would not have to see Eliot. Perhaps he would even prefer that sort of solution; it was discreet. They could put out some tale to explain her absence, and slowly people would forget all about her.

Tears came into Laura’s eyes at this picture, but she shook her head angrily. Self-pity was entirely out of place in this situation. Self-blame was more logical; she had gotten herself into this tangle, and it was up to her to get out.

“Can I ’elp you, ma’am?” asked an unctuous voice.

Laura looked up, startled, to find a small man in a white apron before her. “What?” she said.

“We have some particular nice whitings today,” he continued, “or perhaps you’d fancy a lobster? All prime fresh, ma’am.”

“No, no thank you,” stammered Laura, and she turned away hastily, but as she walked on, a smile curved her lips. How ridiculous to be asked to buy fish at such a moment.

The incident somehow cheered her, perhaps by its absurdity, and she looked about once more to get her bearings. Home was this way, and she had best walk no farther away from it until she was certain what she would do.

Walking more rapidly, Laura soon came into Green Street, which was filled with a press of vehicles headed for the north road. She gazed at the traffic idly as she continued to think, but suddenly something caught her attention and she stopped. Someone in that chaise was familiar. She leaned forward. Yes. It was Clarissa. Laura turned and followed the carriage along the street. It could not be, but it was—Clarissa sitting in a post chaise with every appearance of starting out on a long journey. There were trunks tied on the back. Walking, faster, she caught a glimpse of the other occupants of the chaise, and her heart sank. On the rear seat, side by side, sat Anne Rundgate and a young man in regimentals.

Laura thought of crying out, but at that moment the line of vehicles speeded up, and the chaise moved ahead at a pace she could not match. She watched helplessly as it passed along the street and disappeared around the corner. Clarissa was aiding an elopement; she had no doubt of it. How could she be so foolish, Laura wondered. It would create a terrible scandal, and the Rundgates would never forgive her. Nor would their aunts, nor Eliot. And neither will I, finished Laura bitterly. She did not understand how her sister could do such a thing at this of all times.

I must stop her, resolved Laura. She looked up and down the street. There was no hack in sight, and in any case, a cab could not keep pace with a post chaise. She scanned the passing vehicles eagerly. If only someone she knew happened by… but there was no one.

Grimly Laura started to walk, confident that she would find transportation sooner or later. She pushed her way through the crowd on the pavement as quickly as she could, and her rapid passage was attracting undue attention. When she suddenly spied a familiar carriage, she waved frantically and, after a bad moment when several gentlemen in the street seemed about to respond, caught the attention of the driver. He maneuvered the curricle over to her, not without great difficulty and much abuse from various other drivers and pedestrians, and looked down bemusedly. “Hello, Mrs. Crenshaw,” said Lord Farnsworth then. “Fine morning, what?” He looked about curiously for her companion.

“Lord Farnsworth,” said Laura firmly. “You must help me.”

He goggled at her. “Happy to,” he replied finally.

Laura was already climbing up into the curricle, having motioned Lord Farnsworth’s groom out of the way. “Thank you,” she said as she sat down. “Drive that way, toward the north road.”

His rather prominent eyes seemed about to start from his head. “Er, just so. But, ah, where are we going?”

Laura had been formulating an explanation ever since she first glimpsed his carriage, so she was ready for this question. “My sister went out visiting this morning, to a rather out-of-the-way place, the home of our old governess. It is just on the outskirts of London, but for some reason the coachman misunderstood and left her there. She has no way to get home, and I must fetch her.”

“Ah,” said Lord Farnsworth wisely. He started his horses once again, but as they drove, something occurred to him. “But, I say, why not just send your coachman back there? Serve the fellow right for coming away as he did.”

“Alas,” answered Laura glibly, “Eliot took out the town coach, not realizing that Clarissa would need it.”

“Ah,” said the man again, and nodded.

Laura was too engrossed, and Lord Farnsworth too oblivious, to notice the odd behavior of two pedestrians during their interchange and departure. The first, a rough-looking individual in a frieze overcoat, had seemed both surprised and displeased when he saw Laura get into the curricle. He had immediately summoned a hack and, after following them for a space, had ordered the jarvey to turn down a side street and proceed double quick to an address nearby. The other man, a neat, dark person dressed unobtrusively in dark gray, had watched Laura’s actions dispassionately. But when he saw the man in the overcoat, he reacted visibly and quickly summoned a hack of his own and drove rapidly off.

At the north road Lord Farnsworth balked. “No, now, come now,” he said when Laura indicated that he should take this route. “Your old governess doesn’t live in York, I hope. How far is it? I have an engagement to dine at White’s with Sir Robert and a few friends. We’re to play whist; he’ll be mad as fire if I don’t show.”

Laura looked at her reluctant escort measuringly, then sighed. If only she had come upon someone else in the street. She turned all her powers of persuasion to convincing him to go on. “I am sorry, Lord Farnsworth,” she said, looking at him with large eyes. “I did not tell you the truth before; I was trying to spare you. But the thing is, my sister is in trouble, and I must go to her. Surely you will not refuse to take me?”

Lord Farnsworth seemed unimpressed. “What sort of trouble? And why not take your own carriage? Why doesn’t your husband escort you, hey?”

“Eliot must not know,” said Laura melodramatically, bringing a look of frozen terror to her companion’s face. “I could not order my carriage for fear of alerting him. He is very angry at Clarissa, and I do not want them to quarrel again.”

Lord Farnsworth looked hunted. “Why is he angry?”

“It doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with this,” snapped Laura, very impatient with the unfortunate baron. “If you will not take me, at least lend me your curricle. I will do my best to drive it. I have no more time to waste.”

“Can’t go about the countryside alone in a curricle,” he said, shocked. “Not the proper thing for a female. Won’t do at all.”

“Then come with me.”

“But I…”

Her patience exhausted, Laura tried to take the reins from Lord Farnsworth’s hands. He resisted feebly, then finally said, “All right, all right, I will drive you. But I dare swear I am making the biggest mistake of my life.” And they set off along the north road at as good a pace as Laura could urge him to.

The stream of traffic on the north road was not great, and thus it was noticeable when, not half an hour after Laura and Lord Farnsworth had crossed the town borders, another curricle drove smartly by. The fashionably dressed gentleman driver was slight and brown-haired, and his bright hazel eyes were intent.

Soon after, a light traveling carriage came along at spanking pace. The grays pulling it were perfectly matched and highly bred, but the broad ruddy face of the gentleman within showed no pleasure in this when he peered out at the road. He looked, in fact, both anxious and harried. But he contented himself with urging his tall coachman to further speed, then retreated into the carriage again.

A little later in the day, near noontime, an obviously new high-perch phaeton came bowling by, drawn by two horses whose paces and lines made it clear that they came from some London livery rather than the stables of a gentleman. A man and a lady rode in it, and the latter was speaking earnestly to her companion. He looked extremely doubtful, but resolute, and used his whip.

No further traffic of interest passed during the noon hour. Several carts trundled by, and a clergyman in a gig crossed into a side street. But about one o’clock a closed carriage shot along the road at a dangerous speed. A slight dark man drove it, expertly but with some nervous glances at the buildings streaming past; the occupants could not be seen.

Laura and Lord Timothy made good progress, in spite of his complaints and repinings. But she was soon exhausted, less with the jolting of the curricle than with the constant effort to keep her companion going. Lord Farnsworth was eager to stop at the least excuse and made a great work of asking the keepers at the tollgates whether Clarissa had passed. Laura finally began to inquire herself, her annoyance overcoming any embarrassment or hesitation she might have felt in other circumstances.

It was soon clear that they were on her sister’s trail. Most of the keepers quickly recognized Clarissa from her description, and at each gate they seemed a little closer. As the afternoon drew on, they were first more than an hour behind the others, then three quarters, a half, and finally at five o’clock only a quarter of an hour. Laura was exultant. Surely she would come up with the post chaise very soon; and though she would not be able to return the trio to London the same day, she could at least take them back tomorrow, acting as chaperone in the meantime. She had even concocted a story to explain their journey. They had gone for a drive in the country and had had an accident, she thought, picturing herself saying this to Mrs. Rundgate. Though they tried every means possible to have their carriage repaired, it was impossible, and they had been forced to stay the night at an inn nearby. She nodded to herself.

In her preoccupation Laura had not been paying any heed to Lord Farnsworth, and this gentleman, after stealing a covert glance at her, had been unobtrusively slowing the curricle. The team they had picked up at a posting house along the route was not at all averse to this. A walk, in fact, was their preferred gait, and they sank gratefully into it.

Some minutes later Laura looked up. “What are you doing?” she cried. “Why have you slowed down? We were nearly up with them.”

Lord Farnsworth started, but recovered himself quickly. “Well now, don’t fly up into the boughs… but I have been thinking.”

Laura stifled a scornful reply and merely looked at him.

“Yes. Well I was wondering, you know, what we are to do when we catch up to your sister. I am not one of your needle-witted fellows, but this looks very like an elopement to me. And if it is so, then the gentleman in question may not take our interference kindly, if you see what I mean. And if you’re thinking of persuading me to call him out or anything of that sort, well you’re fair and far out, that’s all I can say, for I won’t do it.” He tried to look Laura resolutely in the eye but succeeded only in staring like a pigeon fascinated by a snake.

Laura almost laughed. “Of course I do not expect you to call anyone out,” she replied soothingly. “Indeed there will be no need for anything of that kind. I promise you that Clarissa is not eloping.” Looking at Lord Farnsworth’s woebegone posture, she excused herself for this half-lie by resolving that she would let him go home as soon as she found Clarissa.

“Ah, hm, well then,” muttered her companion, “I suppose it’s all right.”

“It is. So, please, will you go faster?”

With a grimace Lord Farnsworth whipped up the horses. “How much longer must we go on?” he asked her after a few minutes.

For the first time Laura looked a little worried. “I am not sure. Would they not stop at an inn soon? It is coming on six o’clock.”

“Well that depends upon where they’re headed. If it was Gretna Green, which it ain’t, of course,” he added hastily with a side glance at Laura, “but if it was, then I wager they’d stop fairly soon. That’s a three-day trip no matter how hard you travel, so one may as well not kill the horses. But if they are making for someplace closer, then they might go on for hours yet. It won’t be full dark until close on eight.”

“Ah,” was Laura’s only reply, but she began to watch the sides of the road more closely, searching for likely inns.

***

It was past six before she came on one, and the innkeeper there had seen no sign of their quarry. But about five miles further they came upon The Pony, a small rundown hostelry set back from the road in a grove of trees. A post chaise stood outside in the yard, and there was a trunk strapped to it that seemed to Laura the one she had seen earlier. She ordered Lord Farnsworth to stop.

Eying the post chaise, he reluctantly did so. And as soon as they reached the inn, Laura jumped down. A very fat, rosy woman bustled out, wiping her hands on a rag. “Mercy!” she exclaimed. “Two carriages all in one night. I’ve never seen the like. What am I to give you for supper? For room I cannot give you, ma’am, the other party has engaged all I have.”

“That’s quite all right,” answered Laura. “We are here to meet some friends and do not require rooms. In fact I hope it may be our party that has arrived. Two ladies, one blond, one dark, and a military gentleman?”

“Why that’s them indeed, ma’am. They’re in my parlor this minute. I’ll take you to them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said a voice from the doorway, and Laura swung sharply round to face her irate sister. Conscious of the landlady, Clarissa said nothing further but turned her back on Laura and went into the inn. Laura followed her into a small but neat private parlor, where Anne Rundgate sat with a fresh-faced young man in uniform. The sisters faced each other.

“Clarissa, how could you be so foolish?” asked Laura. “You will create a terrible scandal, and you will be blamed for the whole. It is ruinous.”

Clarissa’s eyes flashed. “No one would have known anything about it if you had not come charging after me in this idiotic way. And riding with Lord Farnsworth! However did you come to do so?”

Laura made an impatient gesture. “Not have known?” she cried. “How not? Surely you left Anne’s house with her, and her mother will know very well who to thank, I think, when she hears what has happened.”

Clarissa had the grace to hang her head a bit, but surprisingly before she could answer, Anne Rundgate spoke up behind them. “It is not her fault. I wished it. I would do
anything
to marry Robert.”

Laura looked at her, astonished, and saw the young man squeeze her hand. Anne was trembling and pale, but she faced Laura resolutely. Exasperated, Laura snapped, “Even ruin my sister with yourself, it appears.”

Anne whitened further and began to stammer a reply, but Clarissa went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “How can you be so cruel, Laura?” she said. “Of course she did not want me to come. I insisted. I thought if they had a chaperone, the elopement might not seem so bad. You see…”

Laura’s anger threatened for a moment to overcome her. She clenched her fists, took a breath, then put a hand to her head and started to laugh helplessly. “A chaperone,” she echoed, “on an elopement. And such a chaperone.” Her laughter was a little hysterical. “I would not allow you to chaperone our aunts, Clarissa,” she added.

The three young people did not share her amusement. Clarissa continued to glare at her sister indignantly, while Anne Rundgate watched Laura wide-eyed, as if she feared for her mental stability, and young Captain Wetmore frowned. He rose and started to speak, but Lord Farnsworth chose this moment to join them in the parlor.

All of them turned when he entered, and he bowed apologetically. “Beg pardon,” he said, holding his hat clutched to his chest. “Dashed drafty in the corridor. Hate to intrude, but I’m convinced I shall catch a chill if I remain there much longer. Can’t go to the kitchen; landlady won’t allow it, and besides, it ain’t good
ton
. Perhaps you won’t be wanting me any longer?” This was hopefully addressed to Laura.

Laura’s laughter bubbled up again. “Certainly go back, Lord Timothy. I can return to town in my sister’s chaise.”

“No you can’t,” exclaimed Clarissa. “We are going to Gretna Green.”

Something like satisfaction passed across Lord Farnsworth’s face, but as he surveyed the room’s occupants, it was once more replaced by puzzlement. He nodded nervously to Anne Rundgate and eyed the captain with ill-concealed astonishment. “Just, just so,” he said vaguely.

“Nonsense,” said Laura. “Lord Farnsworth, you had best start immediately; it will be dark in less than two hours.”

He started. “Yes, yes indeed. I’ll just…”

But Captain Wetmore interrupted. “I beg your pardon,” he said in a cultivated sensible voice, “but I greatly regret that I cannot allow it. I was against this mad scheme from the start, but having begun, I say we should push on. So if you will excuse us, Mrs. Crenshaw. I think our best course would be to drive on tonight.”

“And if I will not?” asked Laura.

“Then we drive on in any case. Miss Lindley need not accompany us. I was very grateful for her support of Anne, but I am well able to care for my future wife myself.”

Anne Rundgate made a small sound and clung to his arm.

“Of course I will come with you,” put in Clarissa. “I am not so poor-spirited as to desert you now.” She began to gather her bonnet and pelisse from the sofa, urging Anne to do the same.

The captain strode over and rang the bell as Laura watched helplessly. “You can’t,” she murmured, “it is lunacy.”

No one bothered to reply, though Lord Farnsworth nodded vigorously, and in the silence the sound of a carriage approaching could be clearly heard. Captain Wetmore sighed. “Who now?” he wondered aloud. “This is a remarkably public elopement.”

“It will go by,” Clarissa assured him. “No one else can have found out.” This raised a question in her mind, and she turned to her sister. “Unless Laura told someone. Just how did you discover our plan, Laura? I made sure my note was vague.”

“I happened to see you drive by,” replied Laura absently, “and I followed.”

Clarissa glanced at Lord Farnsworth and summoned a small smile. “With Lord Farnsworth.”

Laura looked up. “What? Yes.” She was listening to the approaching vehicle. Could this be help in some form? She had no idea how she could keep them from leaving on her own.

The sound of wheels neared, and to Clarissa’s manifest surprise, stopped outside the inn. The landlady, who bustled in at that moment, was astonished. Her mouth gaping at this unaccustomed business, she ran out again, forgetting to ask what they wanted.

There was some noise outside, and then in the corridor. Finally the door burst open and Mr. Redmon came hurrying in. “Clarissa,” he cried when he saw her, “you cannot, you must not do this thing. I beg you.” His eyes lit on Captain Wetmore and his expression hardened “Ah,” he said and strode over to the other man, “You are the blackguard responsible.” He gripped the captain’s cravat in one hand and shook him. “I should call you out and put a bullet through your worthless heart,” he finished.

Anne Rundgate screamed, as did the landlady, who had followed Mr. Redmon into the room. Lord Farnsworth muttered, “Here, no, I say,” and retreated to the far corner of the room, holding a scented handkerchief to his lips. Laura said, “Wait a moment,” but Mr. Redmon did not appear to hear her. It was not until Clarissa reached him and began to tug at his arm that he recalled himself.

The captain pushed his hand away and straightened his cravat. “I don’t know what right you think you have to speak to me in this way,” he said hotly, “but be assured that I will meet you when and where you like.”

Anne screamed again and ran to him, but Mr. Redmon did not seem to hear. His eyes were painfully fixed on Clarissa’s face. “How could you?” he began, then added quickly, “that is, I have no right to censure your actions, of course, but I thought we were…” He broke off and bent his head.

Clarissa shook his arm again. “Mr. Redmon, I am not eloping. It is Anne.”

He looked up as if dazed. “You are not? But your maid said…”

“Nancy?” Clarissa frowned. “What has she to do with it? I told her nothing.”

Mr. Redmon continued to stare at her. “She had a letter. She said that you had run away. Mr. Crenshaw sent me after you.”

“Oh he did?” said Clarissa indignantly.

“Eliot knows of this?” put in Laura.

Mr. Redmon merely nodded.

Laura went to an armchair and sank into it with an exhausted sigh.

Clarissa frowned, but before she could speak again, Mr. Redmon said, “Miss Lindley, Clarissa, when I thought you had eloped, I was in despair. It is not the right moment, but I cannot wait any longer to ask you to be my wife.”

The girl blinked at him, then smiled. “Of course I will, Geoffrey. I have been waiting weeks for you to ask me.”

A small gasp from Anne Rundgate was the only sound, then both Mr. Redmon and Laura began to laugh. Laura fell back in her chair and put a hand over her face.

Clarissa eyed them balefully. “Yes, but that does not solve our present problem, does it?” she said. “Anne and Captain Wetmore must get to Gretna Green, and I shall go with them. None of you can stop me.”