Jane Ashford (24 page)

Mr. Redmon stopped laughing “What?” he said. “That is preposterous.”

Clarissa swung on him. “Don’t you begin now. I have had this from Laura, and I will not listen to any more. We are going.” She looked toward the captain, who nodded.

“But why?” exclaimed Mr. Redmon. He seemed to really see Anne and her companion for the first time. “Surely, Miss Rundgate, you cannot wish to marry in such a way.”

Anne looked frightened, but said, “My parents will not permit it in any other.”

Mr. Redmon looked thoughtful. “Ah, they have refused consent.”

Captain Wetmore seemed uncomfortable, and Laura put in, “They have refused then? I did not realize you had finally consulted them.”

“Ah, well we did not precisely…” began the captain.

“They would not allow it, I know,” blurted Anne. “My sister wished to marry Mr. Browne, and they talked and talked for days until she gave it up. They would do the same to me.”

“But if you refuse to allow them to persuade you,” replied Laura in as reasonable a voice as she could muster, “they would no doubt come around in time.”

“I have tried to tell her that, Mrs. Crenshaw,” said the captain, “but Anne finds the thought very upsetting.”

“So should you,” cried Anne wildly. “They will give me no peace. I cannot stand up to them; I do not know how. You cannot ask it of me.” Her voice was rising, and the captain quickly put an arm around her and assured her that they would not.

“Of course we shall not,” added Clarissa. She looked reproachfully at Laura. “How can you be so unfeeling?”

Laura started to make a sharp reply, but at that moment Mr. Redmon said, “But why not a special license?”

They all looked at him. “Special license?” said Clarissa.

“Just the thing,” agreed Lord Farnsworth. He had come out of the corner when it was clear that there would be no violence, and now the group swung round to face him. “Just the thing,” he repeated a bit nervously under five pairs of eyes. “Should have thought of it myself. No need to elope. Very bad
ton
, you know. Get a special license. My great uncle could do it all right and tight.”

“Your great uncle,” murmured Clarissa weakly.

To everyone’s surprise Lord Farnsworth blushed. “Yes, er, well you see, m’great uncle Charles is a bishop.”

Mr. Redmon smiled. “That’s perfect then. We shall all return to town and procure a special license from Lord Farnsworth’s great uncle. A splendid scheme.”

Lord Farnsworth bowed. “Thank you, Lord Redmon. Nothing at all, assure you. The old man will be glad of a visit, I daresay.”

But a wail from Anne Rundgate halted their mutual congratulation. “Return?” she cried. “But my mother will find it all out. How will I explain where I have been? She will know something is wrong; I should have been home these two hours, dressing for an evening party.”

The captain tried to soothe her, looking to Clarissa for help, but Laura’s sister seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. During the pause that followed, Clarissa looked up and said, “
Lord
Redmon?” in a bewildered voice.

Lord Geoffrey Redmon looked uncomfortable.

“Lord Redmon will explain later, Clarissa,” Laura put in crisply. “But now I think we should follow his plan. Anne, if I engage to explain your absence to your mother, will you return to town now?”

After several minutes of discussion, Anne conceded that she would. Clarissa did not join in this argument but merely stared at Redmon in a way that made that gentleman very uneasy.

At last it was settled that Laura would drive back to London with Anne and the captain. Lord Farnsworth would depart immediately, but they would call on him to fulfill his promise the following day. Privately Laura vowed that she would make an opportunity to talk with Mrs. Rundgate before that time, to sound her out on the subject of Captain Wetmore. At first Clarissa was to join the party in the post chaise, but Lord Redmon urgently requested that she ride in his curricle, and she consented. Since it was an open carriage, Laura made no objection.

“Well then,” she said, when all the arrangements had been agreed upon, “let us go as soon as may be. We will be sadly late reaching London as it is.”

The captain started toward the bell to ring it yet again, but before he reached it, a man’s voice spoke from the doorway. “I think not yet,” he said. “There is one modification I must make to your admirable plans.”

They all turned. Laura paled, and Clarissa looked at her, wide-eyed. Jack Allenby stood in the doorway, holding a pistol trained on the group. In the excitement of their discussion, they had not heard his carriage arrive.

“Here,” said Lord Redmon immediately, “what is the meaning of this? What are you doing with that pistol, Allenby? Is this some sort of joke?”

“Alas, I fear not,” responded Mr. Allenby, “though I promise you I mean no one here the least harm. I must ask only Mrs. Crenshaw to come with me, and all will be well.”

“Never!” exclaimed Clarissa.

The others eyed Mr. Allenby with astonishment.

“All what?” asked Laura after a short pause.

Mr. Allenby smiled slightly. “More than you can well imagine, I believe. Somehow you have inconvenienced me greatly out of proportion to your importance. Certain forces that have been set in motion can be stopped only by your influence. I require it urgently.”

“Do you think I would help you in any way?” asked Laura contemptuously.

He smiled more broadly. “Of course not. I am not so stupid or so vain. That is why I hold a pistol and why I require that you come with me now. I shall hold you, unharmed naturally, until matters are adjusted to my satisfaction. A regrettable necessity. I apologize. Had I known the stakes when I began this game, I doubt not I would have passed.”

“Game?” repeated Laura. “For you it has been a game and nothing more.”

Mr. Allenby’s smile was almost frightening. “But of course. What else is life, after all?”

Laura turned away from him abruptly. It was nearly more than she could bear that he called the ruin of her life a game. Mr. Allenby shrugged. “Come, let us go. The sooner you see the sense of my request, the sooner your friends will be released.”

At the same moment Captain Wetmore and Lord Redmon moved. The captain dived for the bell rope and gave it a vigorous pull, and Lord Redmon started toward Mr. Allenby. A shot rang out. The marquess grasped his arm and almost fell. With a cry Clarissa ran to support him. His smile gone, Mr. Allenby put down his smoking pistol and drew its mate from the pocket of his greatcoat. “It is a pair you see,” he said. “I would not advise any more foolish tricks. And I regret to tell you, sir,” he added, turning to the captain, “that the inhabitants of the inn are in the care of my associate.” Mr. Allenby was obviously not entirely clear on who the captain was, but just as obviously, he did not care a whit.

The door of the parlor opened, and a burly individual in a frieze coat looked in. “Everything all right?” he asked. “I heard a shot.”

“Yes indeed, Dikes,” replied Mr. Allenby. “We will be going shortly.”

The man nodded and disappeared.

“Now, Mrs. Crenshaw, come along.”

Laura looked about the room for some means of escape.

“Perhaps you would prefer that I demonstrate my seriousness by shooting another of your friends? Or perhaps your sister? The longer you linger, the more time that passes before young Redmon sees a doctor.”

Laura moved forward, and Mr. Allenby nodded approvingly. Clarissa turned from her work on Lord Redmon’s arm to exclaim, “No, Laura, do not go. We shall manage somehow.”

Lord Redmon seconded this sentiment weakly. Blood was spreading across his coat sleeve.

Laura looked at them sadly, shook her head, and turned away. Mr. Allenby gripped her arm above the elbow and started to back out of the room, his pistol still aimed at its occupants.

The corridor was dark after the crowded parlor, and Mr. Allenby’s grip on Laura’s arm was tight. His burly friend joined them, and all three started down the corridor together after the latter turned a key in the parlor door. “Jem’s got the ’orses in hand,” he added. “We can be off directly.”

Mr. Allenby made no answer but merely continued to guide Laura down the hall. They reached the door all too quickly and stepped out into the innyard. It was extremely crowded with carriages, far more than it had been constructed to hold, and Mr. Allenby paused warily to find a clear route through them. It occurred to Laura that some of the drivers would help her if they knew her plight, and she started to call out. But her captor sensed her intention and covered her mouth with a hand. “Must you make this more distasteful than it is already?” he said impatiently, and the girl’s eyes widened.

They began to move again, but the sound of a carriage approaching stopped Mr. Allenby. He listened. When the vehicle slowed, as if to come into the yard, he retreated quickly to the shelter of the doorway again. “Who now?” he muttered. “All of London will be here next.”

A phaeton pulled up as close to the inn as it could get, and a man hopped down. Laura struggled a bit, but this served only to make Mr. Allenby tighten his grip and swear.

“Here, ostler,” called the new arrival. “Ostler.”

A woman jumped down from the chaise. “He must be busy, with all these carriages. Tie them, and let us go directly in. This must be the place. Oh I hope nothing dreadful has occurred.”

Laura recognized the voice immediately. It was Marina, and when the man spoke again, she knew it must be the earl. How they had come here, she had no idea. Surely they could not be eloping also? This thought would have made her smile had she not been so intent upon using this new turn of events to get away from Mr. Allenby.

The earl and Marina approached the door, and Mr. Allenby backed away a little. He swore under his breath again but did not loosen his grip on Laura. The couple entered the dim corridor. Mr. Allenby backed up further and said, “Please do not come any closer. I have a pistol and will not hesitate to use it, as your friend will testify.” He released Laura’s mouth, there being no need to silence her now.

Laura saw the earl start violently and Marina swing around. Before anyone could think further, Marina leaped toward Mr. Allenby. Laura immediately twisted away from him, and as Marina hit him as hard as she could in the side, Laura lashed out with her heels and managed to pull out of his arm. The earl watched these movements in consternation as the pistol wavered from his heart to his head, saying, “Look out there. Watch the gun. Look out!”

Mr. Allenby aimed a backhanded blow at Marina, who dodged out of the way and turned to pursue Laura. As he did, Marina grabbed his gun hand and hung on. “Help me,” she shouted to the earl.

This gentleman, jumping from the line of fire, started toward her, but at that moment Mr. Allenby’s accomplice spoke from the shadows at the end of the corridor. “All right now, that’s enough fun and games. I ’ave a shotgun on you all.”

Marina froze at the sound of his voice, and Mr. Allenby jerked away from her and walked down the hall to fetch Laura, who had almost reached the front door. The burly man held the gun on them as Mr. Allenby unlocked the parlor door again and shoved Marina in. “Here, you hellion,” he said. “Gods!”

The earl objected to this mode of address. “That is no way to address a lady,” he said. “I insist that you apologize.”

Allenby shook his head helplessly and apologized, “Pure farce,” he murmured, “the story of my life.” Then he shoved the earl after Marina and shut the door again.

Laura leaned against the wall of the corridor with her eyes closed. The shotgun was trained on her unwaveringly, and she dared not move. Allenby turned to her once again. “I am heartily sorry I must start down this corridor again myself.”

“Why must you then?” snapped Laura immediately. “Why not simply return home and leave this idiocy?”

Mr. Allenby rubbed his temples wearily. “I wish I could; you have no idea how much. But I doubt you will call off your dogs without some strong urging, and Vera will not forgive me if I lose all now.” He laughed without humor. “She may not forgive me in any case, though the whole thing was her scheme.”

Laura did not follow all of this, but she grasped one point. “I do not know what you mean by dogs,” she answered. “I have not asked anyone to harm you. It has nothing to do with me, whatever it is.”

Mr. Allenby looked at her quizzically. “I believe you are serious, Laura. Well it is no matter. Someone is hounding me because of you, and if he is not called off, I shall be ruined in a fortnight. I must stop it, you can see that.” His tone was almost appealing, and some of Laura’s anger dissolved.

“I have no quarrel with you, now that my debt is paid,” she said. “I will write a letter or talk with the man, whatever you like. There is no need to go through with this foolish scheme.”

Allenby considered; he looked tempted… but then he shook his head. “No, it will not do. Neither of us knows who it is, you see… if you are telling me the truth, that is. How can you write to a phantom? Unfortunate, but it won’t work.”

Laura started to speak again, but he waved her to silence, and they started out. “Did you bring the chaise up?” Mr. Allenby asked the other man.

“Aye.”

They went quickly through the passage and into the yard once more. A post chaise now stood just before the door. Laura was pushed into it, and the door slammed behind her. She found when she tried the handles that both doors were secured and could not be opened from the inside. The windows were muffled with cloth. There was some quiet talk outside the door; then footsteps retreated. Silence fell, and Laura waited tensely for the carriage to start off.

But before it could do so, there was a repeated pounding noise, then a tremendous shattering of glass. Shouts broke out, seemingly all around her. Laura cried, “Help, help me,” several times, but she doubted she could be heard in the confusion. Two shots rang out almost simultaneously, and there was more shouting. Then all was quiet for so long a time that Laura was nearly frantic. She jerked the door handles ineffectually and pounded on the windows. Nothing gave way. She was just about to take off her shoe and try what the heel could do against the glass when the door handle shook and began to open. She retreated to the other side of the chaise and watched the door fixedly. It opened.

“My dear,” said Eliot, “allow me to hand you down.”