Mayhem in Bath (17 page)

Having gorged to the point of bursting, he staggered back up to the roof, and with some difficulty hauled himself out through the skylight onto the slates. It was still raining heavily, and this time he did lose his balance. With a yell he rolled down to the gutter, which he grabbed to save himself, but it came away from the roof, swinging him out above the alley below. He wrapped his arms and legs tightly around it, and gazed down in dread, waiting for the inevitable. It came soon enough. With a mournful groan, the gutter detached itself completely and plunged down, brownie and all. It pierced the muddy ground like Lord Algernon’s sword at the review, and juddered to and fro so fiercely that Bodkin felt quite dizzy, but at last it became quite still, and he was able to slide down to terra firma.

Thanking the powers that be for his lucky escape, he began to run back to the Royal Crescent mews. Once in the haven of his hayloft, the excitement of having decimated Zuder’s a second time began to fade. The drumming of the rain on the roof made him feel quite low, and his thoughts turned to Nutmeg. Where was she? Was she well? Did she miss him? Oh, how he’d punish the wicked humans for what they’d done! He glanced at the pumpkin, and his eyes flashed with bitter fire. Halloween was only a day or so away, so it was time to make a start. Taking his knife again, he set about creating the largest, most horrible jack-o’-lantern that ever was.

Much later, in the small hours, when even Bodkin had finally gone to sleep, Polly awoke with a start as something disturbed her. Puzzled, she got out of bed and went to the window. The rain had stopped, and all was quiet, but just as she was about to turn away, she heard a carriage driving out of the crescent into Brock Street. She saw a link boy running past, followed by an elegant scarlet vehicle drawn by a team of two cream horses. The coachman shouted encouragement to the team, and flicked his whip. It was the same shout she’d heard earlier, she thought, looking more closely as the carriage swept by. A flawless profile was visible inside.
Georgiana!

Polly’s heart twisted, for where else could Lord Benjamin’s sister have been in the intervening hours, except with Dominic? Her eyes stinging with tears, Polly hurried back to bed, where she cried into her pillow as if her heart would break.

Chapter 21

The day of the ball dawned bright and sunny; indeed it could not have been better than the previous evening had it tried, but Polly awoke feeling wretched, with red eyes and a wan face. All she could think of was how foolish she’d been to think fondly of Sir Dominic Fortune. As to wondering if he felt the same way about her ... How could she have been so naive? Lady Georgiana Mersenrie was the one he wanted, and probably the one he deserved.

She did what she could to make her eyes look less swollen and tearstained, but not even her Chinese box of cosmetic papers could really disguise the truth. All she could do was pretend to have had dust in both eyes, and then brazen it out. Once again the ball was out of the question, so new bows and so on were no longer of any consequence. All in all, Nutmeg notwithstanding, she felt so out of sorts that she thought of returning to Horditall; indeed of
skulking
back there.

But as this cowardly thought registered, she drew herself up sharply. “Where’s your pride, Polly Peach?” she demanded of her reflection in the mirror. “You’ve got to snap your fingers at them, show you don’t care what they get up to.” She’d have to go to the ball after all, just to look down her nose at Dominic and his precious
chienne.
Yes, that was what she had to do.
Then
she could skulk back to Horditall to nurse her misery in private.

She got up to select the second of the two morning gowns she’d brought with her from Horditall. It was a peppermint-and-white striped muslin, with which she always twisted her hair into a knot that was intertwined with matching striped ribbons. At least, she didn’t usually do the twisting, for that was her maid’s task, but this morning she had to labor upon it herself. Some time passed before she felt she’d achieved something remotely acceptable when she inspected herself in the mirror. “Well, that’s the best you’ll look today, my girl,” she murmured resignedly, then went down to endure breakfast with her uncle and Lord Benjamin.

They were already seated at the table, each with a newspaper and a gargantuan plate of food. Their chairs scraped hastily as she entered, and as she smiled and murmured a greeting, she was disagreeably conscious of how Lord Benjamin’s eyes moved over every inch of her. He had the ability to make her feel virtually naked! Giles drew out a chair for her, brought her the breakfast she requested, and then withdrew from the room.

Hordwell immediately commented upon her pallor. “What’s this? Have you been crying, m’dear?” he inquired solicitously.

She gave a light laugh. “Dear me, no, although thank you for being concerned. The truth is that I spilled my cosmetic powder, and it went into my eyes.

“Ah.” He proceeded with his breakfast.

Lord Benjamin studied her, for she was rather unwisely seated directly opposite him. “May I say how very charming you look this morning. Miss Peach?”

“Thank you, Lord Benjamin,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He continued, “Your uncle informs me you’ll be attending the ball tonight. I trust you will be so kind as to save a measure for me?”

She managed a weak smile. “Yes, of course.”

Hordwell looked up from his newspaper. “Hm, it seems the review turned into a shambles yesterday. Why didn’t you mention any of this, Polly?”

“It slipped my mind, what with the business of your valuables.”

His brow darkened. “Some fiend has them, and I’ll get them back if it’s the last thing I do!” he growled, and began to regale Lord Benjamin with the sorry tale.

As she hoped, the apparent theft took up most of the subsequent conversation, and she stayed out of it by steadily eating her breakfast and keeping her eyes lowered. The ball would be her grand gesture, when she would have an opportunity to snub Dominic. She would then leave for Horditall first thing tomorrow morning. After all, what point was there in staying? Bodkin was determined to be quite impossible, and Nutmeg seemed to have vanished into thin air, so Polly Peach might just as well return to the wonderful isolation of the countryside.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice her uncle suddenly wink at Lord Benjamin, although she did look up when his chair scraped as he rose to his feet. “You must both forgive me,” he said, “but it’s time for me to adjourn to the Pump Room for the water.” Taking up his walking sticks, he hobbled out, and Polly’s heart sank as she realized he’d deliberately left her alone with her loathed host and suitor.

As the door closed, Lord Benjamin gave her a warm smile. “Well, my dear, how very agreeable it is that you are here beneath my roof.”

“I shall be returning to Horditall in the morning,” she replied, determined to snuff any encouragement he might perceive in the situation.

“Indeed? I was under the impression from your uncle that you would stay on a little longer.”

“Then I fear he gave you the wrong notion, sir.”

“May I inquire why you came here?”

“Oh, it was just female foolishness. I dreamed my uncle was unwell, and so had to rush here to be certain he was all right. He persuaded me to stay a few days. That’s all.” She looked quickly at him. “I did not wish to presume upon your hospitality, but my uncle insisted. I would have preferred to stay at an inn or hotel.”

“That would not have done at all, my dear; indeed, you are most welcome to lengthen your sojourn if you wish,” he said softly.

She colored. “I must decline, sir, for I have many things to do at home,” she replied.

He got up suddenly and came around the table to stand behind her. “You will soon be here for always. Miss Peach—Polly—for you will be my wife.” He placed his soft pink hands upon her shoulders.

She leaped up from her seat as if scalded. “Don’t presume, my lord!” she cried, moving away.

“It is no presumption, madam, for the match has been agreed upon.”

“Not by me!”

“Nevertheless, it is settled. Your uncle wishes the contract to be signed, and—”

“Then let him marry you, for I vow you and he would make a handsome pair!” she answered acidly.

He flushed. “You
will
marry me, Polly, for I am set upon it.”

“I gave you no leave to address me so familiarly, sirrah. As for marriage, all you want is my fortune, and I would as soon give it to Old Nick as hand it to you!”

His eyes cooled. “I’m prepared to overlook this little unpleasantness and give you another chance. Maybe after the ball, when you see how agreeable it is to be linked with me and viewed as the future Lady Benjamin Beddem, you’ll see sense.” With that he turned on his heel and walked from the room.

Polly rested her hands on the back of a chair and closed her eyes. Oh, this was unendurable, but she’d brought it on herself by staying in this odious house! She’d known from the outset that it was a mistake, but for Bodkin and Nutmeg’s sakes, she’d allowed her uncle to inveigle her into staying. Now look what had happened. She drew a long breath, trying to think what to do next. Her uncle and Lord Benjamin were going to an exhibition of watercolors this afternoon, which would give her an opportunity to leave for Horditall before they knew anything about it. She would present her uncle with a fait accompli. Yes, that was for the best. She had to forget putting an imaginary tongue out at Dominic, and quit Bath without further ado.

Suddenly she became aware of a fragrance that had nothing to do with breakfast.
Cloves!
She glanced quickly around. “Bodkin? Is that you?”

It was Ragwort. He’d witnessed her scene with Lord Benjamin, and had now moved quite close to her, wondering if things weren’t quite as he’d concluded after all. Polly sensed where he was and reached out so suddenly that he was obliged to step hastily aside. His tail swished uneasily, for she was only the second human he’d come across who was so sensitive to brownies, Giles being the first.

Polly spoke urgently. “Please listen to me. Bodkin, for I’ve only come here to Bath to help you. I’m your friend, truly I am! My uncle promises me there was no agreement with Lord Benjamin about Nutmeg. They merely wished to offer her a chance to come to Bath to stay while her house at Horditall was refurbished. But they didn’t have a chance to ask her about it, because she walked out. I’m afraid that’s what happened—she really did leave of her own accord. I’m very sorry. Oh, Bodkin, at least make yourself visible to me again, for I do hate talking to thin air.”

Ragwort realized she believed everything she said, but he knew things couldn’t have happened that way, not if the belt buckle found in Dominic’s house did indeed belong to Nutmeg, which he was convinced it did. He wanted to tell Polly that he’d relay her words to Bodkin, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak to her. Giles was the only human he’d ever conversed with, and then only infrequently, so he held his tongue.

Polly gave up crossly. “Oh, I wash my hands of you, Bodkin. Be a horrid boggart if you must, but you’re in the wrong. I’m going back to Horditall this afternoon, so you can get on with it by yourself!” Catching up her skirts, she swept from the room in a rustle of peppermint-and-white stripes. She wouldn’t stay in the house; instead she’d soothe her anger, injured pride, and offended feelings by doing a little shopping in the fashionable shops of Milsom Street. And tonight she’d sleep in her own bed, listening to the owls in the beech trees at Horditall!

* * * *

Bodkin had slept on a little longer than he intended and stirred as a couple of grooms entered the stable to clean some harnesses. The brownie opened his eyes slowly, and then gave a start, for about a foot away was a large, leering, orange-yellow face, with jagged teeth and staring eyes. Bodkin scrambled away, his tail bolt upright with shock, but almost immediately he felt utterly foolish, for it was his jack-o’-lantern. He breathed out with relief, and rubbed his hands gleefully, for if it had frightened
him,
just think what it would do to humans on Halloween!

Feeling infinitely better than he had on going to sleep, he made himself comfortable and settled to a breakfast of honey from his jar. Afterward he rubbed some clove balm into his fur, brushed it until it shone, then climbed down the ladder to investigate the bees in the mulberry tree. After that he intended to search Dominic’s house again if he could, because he too was now convinced that the buckle belonged to Nutmeg.

He inhaled deeply of the morning air. How fresh everything smelled after the rain, and how bright and autumnal the leaves were in the sunlight. Oh, how he loved the fall, especially when the sky was so very blue. He’d met Nutmeg on a day like this. His smile faded and a tear rolled down his cheek. Apart from the belt buckle, he was no nearer finding his adored one than he had been on first arriving! Maybe he’d never find her.

He pushed open the door into Dominic’s garden and went inside, where he found Mrs. Matthews’s large marmalade cat strolling down the path toward him. Cats could see brownies, and she arched her back, spat like water in hot fat, and fled back toward the house. Bodkin took no notice as he inspected the tree. The familiar drone of the bees was pleasing to his ears as he scaled the trunk, but as he examined the swarm, his jaw dropped in astonishment, for they were the Horditall bees! “My friends, my dear, dear friends...” he murmured, sinking his hand deep into their seething depths. The bees began to hum, buzzing all over him until he was covered, even to the tip of his tail. He chuckled as he leaned back against the tree trunk. “Oh, how good it is to see you again,” he declared, and as the bees tingled deliciously in his fur, he began to ponder how excellent a weapon they would be for Halloween. Oh, yes, with them
and
his ferocious jack-o’-lantern he would be the very king of mischief!

Polly had long since set off for the shops of Milsom Street when Bodkin at last tore himself away from his busy little friends. After promising to return soon, he jumped down from the tree and hurried toward the house. The French windows of the dining room were open, and inside he saw Dominic lingering over a leisurely breakfast. The brownie slipped in and took great pleasure in knocking a dish of damson preserve onto Dominic’s spotless white riding breeches, causing him to leap to his feet with a curse worthy of a Billingsgate fishwife.