Lady Rogue (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rain patte
red steadily upon the window pane, yet as Dawn stretched lazily and opened her eyes, she thought it a lovely morning.  Every day is beautiful when one was in love.  From the leaping fire in the stone hearth to the downy, velvet covered quilt on her bed, the room welcomed her like a friendly smile.  Humming a tune, she slipped out of bed.

"Are yer
ready for breakfast, mum?"  Peeping through the doorway Agnes made inquiry.

"Toast and tea."  Her stomach was still queasy j
ust thinking about last night.

"That's a
ll?  Why, you'll waste away, mum."

"I'll have something later.  Besides, we're having a guest for the midday meal.  Garrick Seton.  Tell cook to fix something very special."  Dawn felt
proud just saying his name. 

"Garrick Seton!"  The girl's blush gave her thoughts away and Dawn suspected Agnes had a secret yearning for him.  Well, why not, he was a handsome man, one who would soon be her husband.  Hugging her arms about her body she thought how unbelieveable that was.  Even in her wildest dream
s she had never imagined that.

"I'll tell you a secret, Agnes.  He's asked me to marry him!"  Her voice was breathless for she could hardly believe it to
be true.

"To marry
‘im?  Oh, mum!  I'd be telling a fib if I said I wasn't envious."  Agnes clasped her hands together.  "What a ‘andsome gent.  In truth ‘e is."

"I know.  I have to pinch myself to prove I'm not dreaming."  Garrick was coming for
lunch to discuss details of their wedding.  She wanted everything to be perfect.

Immersed in a warm, hazy glow, Dawn drifted dreamily through the morning hours, remembering last night.  If Garrick had not pulled away from her when he did she would have given herself freely to him. What would it be like to be naked in his arms, to feel his caress all over her body, from neck to toes?   As Agnes p
repared her bath she wondered.

The water in the brass tub felt warm and wonderful. Dawn lingered over her bath, sponging herself, imaging the cloth to
be Garrick's caress. Recalling his love for violets, she asked Agnes for a bar of soap that held that fragrance.  Leaning back, she closed her eyes and luxuriated, sighing with pleasure.

Stepping from the tub, wrapping herself in a large towel, she dried herself, then set about finding just the right dress to wear.  She chose a simple lawn green dress of linen with  neck just
high enough to be decent but low enough to be interesting.  Around her neck she tied a ribbon with a cameo that had been one of Margaret Pembrooke's gifts.  She couldn’t help wondering what the grandam would think of her upcoming marriage.  Surely she would have heartily approved.

Always one to scorn corsets
, Dawn had a change of heart, allowing Agnes to lace her up tightly.  As to her hair, she remembered Garrick asking her about its length and decided to let it just hang free.  To make certain the dark waves were shiny she brushed it a hundred times.  Viewing herself in the mirror she smiled, pleased with her decisions.

"Your gentleman is ‘
ere!"  Agnes couldn't hide her breathless tone.

"T
ell him I will be right down."

As she
slowly descended the stairs, Dawn was a vision of loveliness, so breathtaking that Garrick could only stare. Ollie was wrong, he kept thinking.  How could anyone with such a winsome smile be a liar?  A poisoner? A cheat? And yet wasn't his mother capable of putting on an act of innocence now and again?

Watching her closely  as they walked to the dining room,he tried to be objective in judging her.  Could he bear it if
she proved to be a fraud?  What if by his own efforts he leanred  she was not who she professed to be?  What then?  If she were false and treacherous could he just walk away?  No.  He didn't think that he could.  With a frightening intensity he realized that Dawn meant more to him than anything else in the whole world.  Strange, how quickly she had gotten into his blood.

"I've had
Cook prepare sturgeon with sauce.  I remember Mrs. Pembrooke telling me that it is your favorite fish."

Garrick winced at the mention of the wealthy dowager
. Imagine Oliver being so hateful as to accuse this lovely young woman of poisoning her! It was slander and he really should have beaten the daylights out of the young pup.

"I
do much prefer sturgeon to beef.  I guess that makes me very un-English," he said with a forced laugh.             

Now he, too,
was having Dawn watched. It bothered his conscience.  One of her own servants was now in his pay, with instructions to watch her comings and goings. So much for trust. It was all to prove Oliver wrong--and yet, what would he have thought had she had him watched and followed?  He would have been insulted, even outraged.

Like a practiced and most gracious hostess, Dawn saw that Garrick's plate was filled with succulent pieces of fish, small onions, carrots and potatoes.  Sherry, port and claret were served continuously through the meal
,  leading Garrick to remark that if he indulged himself he would be too much "in his cups" to return to the office.  And all the while Dawn's wide green eyes held him captive.

He was conscious of a fierce urge to throw caution to the four winds, sweep her up in his arms and elope with her.  Ollie be damned!  His feelings for her were all that mattered.  Ollie was wrong!  He was playing some sort of silly, childish game w
hich would backfire.  Looking  at her he prayed it was so. 

The intensity of Garrick’s look unnerved Dawn slightly.
There was something forced in his smile.  The sparkle in his eyes had turned to a pensive glow.  Something was wrong, but she was not certain just what.

"Is everything all right?"

"Fine.  Everything is delicious."

He thought to test her.  "Margaret never told me what part of
Norfolk you come from," he said, sipping at his port.

Dawn laughed nervously, wishing she could tell him everything but still feeling t
he need to keep her secrets.  "The middle section," she blurted, not being familiar with Norfolk at all.

"The middle?"  It was a strange answer.  "What town?"  His eyes narrowed, her ne
rvousness not going unnoticed.

Dawn thought quickly.  "No town really.
  We...we had an...an estate."

"A
n estate.  Mmmmm.  But where?"

She couldn't look him in the eye.  How she hated to lie.  Why had she and Margaret Pembrooke fabricated a false identity for her in the first place?  A yes, because of Robbie and the fear that somehow she might be connected with him.  Remembering a rhyme her father had once told her so long ago about a peddler named John Chapman who had come to London to earn his fortune as a shopkeeper she blurted, "Swaffham," the
town where that man was from.

"Swaffham.  Then no doubt you heard about the suspected trea
sure said to be buried there."

"Treasure?"

Garrick laughed.  "When I was a child I was told about the Swaffham pedlar who dreamt that if he stood on London Bridge, a man would tell him how he might become rich.  He walked to London and stood on the bridge for hours but no rich man came by.  At last he fell into conversation with a shopkeeper and told him how he had been led on a fool's errand by a dream.  The shopkeeper replied that he too had had a curious dream, in which he saw treasure being buried in the garden of a gentleman in far-off Swaffham."

"John Chapman!"  Dawn remember
ed the story very vividly now.

"Yes!
  Chapman returned home and began digging."  Garrick's suspicion died.  He was letting Ollie's jealousy and foolish accusations get to him.

"And there were two enormous pots of gold buried beneath a tree.  As a thanksgiving offering the pedlar built the north
aisle and tower of a church."

"Yes."  Garrick put all of Oliver's tattlings out of his mind. Arm in arm they walked sl
owly back to the drawing room.

They talked of many things, settling on the subject of the wedding as they retired to the drawing room.
Garrick was anxious to set the date, wanting the ceremony to take place as soon as could be arranged. "The pounding in my blood tells me we had best set the date for our wedding very quickly."

He pulled her into
the warmth of his embrace and she put her head on his shoulder just as she had last night. Mesmerized, he kissed her with all the tenderness and gentleness in his soul.

"I was afraid you might have c
hanged your mind," she teased.

"Changed my mind?"  As he thought of Ollie and his accusations he frowned.  "No
. Never.”

"I'm glad.  All I could think about today was you."  There was no cunning in her vo
ice, no coquetry in her smile.

He laughed softly.  "I don't know how much longer I can act the proper gentleman."  Pulling her into the shadows, away from Douglass's watchful eyes
, he pulled her up against him, his mouth hungrily finding hers again.  His kiss was urgent, his lips hard and demanding against hers.

Dawn pressed tightly against him, kissing him back eagerly as their bodies strained together.  It was heaven to have her in his embrace.  As her arms wound around his neck, any doubts and suspicions Garrick might have had melted away. 

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The ugly gray walls of Newgate loomed before Dawn's eyes like a fiercesome monol
ith. The doors seemed to grin at her maliciously with their iron-plated teeth.  She shivered as John Barrister led her towards the entrance.
Newgate!
Oh, how that very name used to fill her with dread.  Now she was coming here of her own free will to see about freeing her brother.

"It will take quite a sum of money, Miss Landon, to free this young man.  Are you prepared to pay the fee?"  J
ohn Barrister regarded her quizzically.

"Money is no object
, I assure you," she answered, laying her hand on his sleeve.  Dawn had kept the truth of Robbie's relationship to her from the lawyer for safety's sake.  Somehow anyone who represented the law still seemed suspect. She had spent too many years  running from those who professed to be upholding the law while took bribes and switched their loyalties this way and that to suit their advantage. All too many solicitors, barristers, magistrates, turnkeys and parish beadles were  so sneakily corrupt that one never really knew whom to trust. 

"Then let us be on our way, though I warn you this will not be pleasant."  The tall balding man grimaced as he  withdrew a snowly white linen handkerchief from the inside pocket of his dun-colored coat.  "Take this, my dear, no doubt you will have need of it."  At
her questioning look he said, "You will find the stench nearly unbearable, at least until we get beyond the common prisoners."

The heavy spiked doors swung open with a groan and Dawn followed the lawyer inside. From where they stood behind the wicket she could see prisoners being admitted
and watched in fascinated horror as tattered individuals  were transported to their cells in prison carts. 

"Poor souls!"

"Hardly, my dear.  Criminals, every last one or they would not be here."  John Barrister patted her arm.  "But I assure you this is a very secure prison.  No one has ever escaped nor will."

Silently she traversed the endless corridors and descended the steeply winding staircases into a place that reminded her of hell. 
This is the place where Robbie has spent his days while you have been living with Margaret Pembrooke in splendor
, she thought. Dear God, if she had only known, but even her worst nightmares paled beside the hideous reality. The Fleet, where she and Robbie had spent some time, was a luxury compared to this.

As she walked along
, her eyes searched in the dim light, staring through the grates for a glimpse of Robbie's face, but all she could see were clutching hands as the gaolers rationed out their moldy bread and unappetizing food.

"Disgusting animals.  Savage,"  John Barrister mumbled into his handkerchief.  "I don't know why I chos
e such the occupation.  Better to have been a merchant I dare say."

"My father was a merchant," Dawn murmured, touched by the deprevation that she saw.  The gaunt faces and wild
, hopeless eyes of those who somehow managed to push their faces against the grating gave her a glimpse of their suffering.  She could feel their misery and mourned for them, remembering her mother and how prison had so devastatingly changed her.

"A merchant? Is that so?"  As Dawn paused he put his hand in the small of her back and gave her a nudge.  "Come along.  The prisoner you seek has been lodged in f
ar more comfortable quarters."

"Different quarters?"  Dawn breathed a sigh of relief.  Jamie had said that Robbie was living  as comfortably as was
possible in a place like this. "Yes, I believe Garrick Seton has made such arrangements."

"Garrick Seton?"  The lawyer paused in mid stride shaking his head.  "No, no, no.  Mrs. Pembrooke is the one who set up the fund to pay for
the unfortunate  man's keep."

"Mrs. Pembrooke?"  Margaret Pembrooke had said that she could find no trace of Robbie, had made Dawn believe that he had disappeared.  Why had she told such a vile untru
th?  The betrayal stung Dawn.

Why hadn't Mrs. Pembrooke set Robbie free if she knew where he was?  How could she have dried Dawn's tears, calmed her worries and spoken such soothing words
,e all the time  knowing Robbie was behind the grates of Newgate?  Because she knew Dawn would return with him to the St. Giles.  Perhaps in her way she had meant to protect Dawn, and yet it was such a treacherous deceit.

She wanted to ask John Barrister what he knew about the situation
, but thought better of it. Instead she made pretense of knowing all about the situation. "Yes, yes, of course, Mrs. Pembrooke.  It is because of her wishes that I am here.  She would have wanted to have the young man set free."

"Upon my soul, I can't fathom why."
The lawyer grimaced his disapproval.  "By all I've heard he's a scoundrel!"

"Never
theless I want him out of here!"  Margaret Pembrooke may have broken Dawn's trust, but now her money would at last help set Robbie free.

"As you wish
." John Barrister resumed his stride, not stopping until they approached a big burly guard. "The pickpocket Robert Leighton.  We are here to see him," Barrister announced.

The guard was surl
y.  "Wot do yer want wi' 'im?"

"It's not for you to question, just for you to unlock the door
!"

Without another word the turnkey obeyed, slamming the door behind him.  In a matter of minutes Robbie's beloved face appeared at the grate.  "Dawnie, me dear!  If yer ain't a sight fer sore eyes."  His eyes twinkled merrily.  "And blimey if yer don't look
grand.  Like a queen or such."

"Oh, Rob!  Rob!  I thought I'd never see you again!"  Putting her fingers through the grate she touched his hand and squeezed it affectionately.  Tears flooded her eyes and coursed down her cheeks.  "But I'll get you out of here, I promise.  Mr. Barrister, who has accompanied me, is a lawyer.  He's going to see that you have another trial, one that wi
ll prove you innocent."

It would be a simple matter John Barrister had said, if only Garrick Seton would cooperate.  Dawn had been certain that he would
. But now that she knew the truth of the matter, she had her doubts. Mrs. Pembrooke had been the one. It was still hard to believe.

"A new trial?  'Pon me word I ne'er thought ter 'ave such luck, though it 'asn't been all that 'orrible 'ere.  A warm bed, enough food and pleasant enough company to while awaiy the toime.  But there ain't no substitute for a man's freedom, that's all I can saiy, Dawnie.  I'll be looking forward to walking
through 'at door all roight!"

"And
soon you will.  Trust me, Rob. But you'll have to be patient."  Again she squeezed his hand.

"Patience ain't one o' me
virtues, but I will try, me dear."

John Barrister's scrutinizing eyes made Dawn afraid to say more.  Something about the man cautioned her to be wary.  Too much said might be dangerous.  What was important now was that Robbie knew she would soon set him free.  Yet, oh how she wished she could throw her arms about him, to hug him and kiss him  and tell him how much she missed him and loved him.  As it was
, she could not do more than touch his hand. She had to be satisfied with a mumbled farewell.
              "We'll return, Rob, just as soon as possible with the proper papers.  Until then, goodbye....."  Dawn looked back several times as John Barrister led her back through the halls and stairs through which they had come.  Then, at last, the suffocating depths of Newgate were behind her.