Mayhem in Bath (30 page)

Lord Benjamin drew out Nutmeg’s invisible belt and shook it. “You were wasting your time, for I always keep it with me. It wouldn’t do to lose it now I’m so close. Soon I’ll be making a veritable mint out of that brownie, just as I will out of your niece.” He gave an unpleasant laugh.

Hordwell wriggled and tried to call out, but could only make muffled noises.

Lord Benjamin smiled and went around the bed, drawing all the curtains. Before he pulled the last one, he looked down at his prisoner. “Don’t waste your strength trying to attract attention, for I will tell the servants that on no account are they to enter my room until the morning. By then it will be too late, for I will be well on my way with Polly.” Hordwell’s eyes widened, and he strove to say something, but Lord Benjamin smiled all the more. “Good night, Hordwell, you may as well try to sleep.
Au revoir.”

Drawing the last curtain across. Lord Benjamin left the room and closed the door firmly behind him. As he went downstairs, he issued the necessary orders about his room to the footman who opened the front door for him. A moment later his carriage drew away from the curb, en route for Sydney Gardens.

Chapter 38

Darkness had fallen, and the Royal Crescent brownies had gathered in the mews, waiting for Giles to bring the borrowed pony cart that would convey them to Sydney Gardens. They stood excitedly in the faint pool of light cast by a turnip jack-o’-lantern someone had placed on the wall of Dominic’s garden. The Halloween night exuded an air of mystery and the supernatural, and some of the brownies giggled nervously, while others glanced uneasily skyward, knowing there really were witches and other horrid entities that would harm even brownies.

Ragwort had just joined Bodkin in the hayloft in the nearby mews. He had fully recovered from the previous night’s overindulgence, and was in fine spirits again, even managing to be philosophical about Caraway. Then Bodkin revealed the pumpkin jack-o’-lantern. “There, Ragwort, what do you think of
that,
eh?”

Ragwort gave a startled squeak and backed fearfully toward the ladder that led down to the stable below. “What is it? Does it bite?” he cried, his eyes as round as saucers.

Bodkin caught him before he fell off the edge of the loft. “Don’t be silly, of course it doesn’t bite, it just looks as if it can. You won’t come to any harm. It’s only a jack-o’-lantern,” he said reassuringly, pulling his friend near again. “Well? What do you think?” he asked again.

Ragwort swallowed.
“Just
a jack-o’-lantern?”

Bodkin preened a little. “Well, perhaps that doesn’t do it justice. It’s
the
jack-o’-lantern, the finest that ever was! And it’s mine!”

Ragwort recovered a little. “It... it’s certainly the biggest one I’ve ever seen. What have you made it from?” he asked, touching it with cautious fingertips.

“A pumpkin, all the way from America,” Bodkin declared proudly, taking a handkerchief to polish his handiwork lovingly.

“A pumpkin, eh? I’ve heard of them, but this is the first I’ve seen. I say, it really is
splendid,
isn’t it? You’re going to cause a real stir, Bodkin.”

Bodkin beamed as he got the stout cord ready to tie the jack-o’-lantern on the pole so he could carry it over his shoulder. “I’m going to chase Lord Benjamin with it, and his horrible sister, of course,” he muttered.

“Lord Benjamin’s sister? Why?”

Bodkin explained what he’d learned by the canal bridge, and concluded, “Hordwell is on our side now, but Lady Georgiana made Miss Polly very unhappy for a while, and must be punished.”

Ragwort nodded his agreement. “And quite right, too. Still, at least Miss Polly’s happy again now, eh? Soon she’ll be Lady Fortune!”

Bodkin nodded and sighed. “If only I was that happy. And you,” he added

“We’ll find Nutmeg, I’m sure of it,” Ragwort said soothingly, then sighed. “As for me, well, maybe Caraway and I aren’t meant for each other.”

“I think you are.”

“If we are, I have no one to blame but myself for the present situation. I was stupid last night and cannot blame her for not speaking. If it weren’t for the punch bowl, maybe I’d have her on my arm tonight.”

Bodkin’s eye suddenly brightened with determination. “We’re both going to win our sweethearts back!” he said vehemently. “Come on, help me get the pumpkin down the ladder. We’d better join the others, or we might get left behind, and I don’t really want to carry my jack-o’-lantern all the way to Sydney Gardens. You throw it down, and I’ll catch it, but please be careful, because it’s not as strong now I’ve hollowed it out.” He dropped the pole over the edge, and climbed down the ladder.

Ragwort grunted as he picked up the heavy pumpkin. He grunted again as he heaved it down to his friend waiting below.

Bodkin’s knees buckled as he caught it, and he was glad to put it down on the straw-littered cobbles, then fixed it firmly to the pole. “Oh, I’m really looking forward to chasing foul Lord Benjamin with this. After Miss Polly has tricked him into taking off his coat, of course.”

“His coat?”

“I haven’t really spoken to you since last night, have I? Well, we think he always keeps Nutmeg’s belt on his person, so tonight Miss Polly is going to ask him to join the dance around the bonfire. He’ll have to take his coat off in the heat, then his pockets can be searched.” Bodkin heaved the pumpkin and pole over his shoulder.

Ragwort exhaled slowly. “There’s just one small problem.”

“Problem?”

“Lord Benjamin isn’t wearing a coat—he has a devil costume. It’s all in one piece, very tight, and doesn’t have any pockets. He can’t possibly take it off to dance, and the only way he can conceal something like Nutmeg’s belt is by tucking it right inside. Bodkin, my friend, you’ll have to think of something else.”

Dismayed, Bodkin put his load down again. “We were afraid of this. Now we’ll have to abandon the plan.”

“This particular plan, maybe, but there must be other ways.”

“What do you suggest?”

Ragwort shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we could frighten the wits out of him with the pumpkin, then jump on him and hold him down while he’s searched! No one will see us because we’re invisible!” He paused in surprise. “I say, that’s not a bad idea, is it? It will be dark, and there’ll be so much happening in the gardens that he’ll just look as if he’s fallen over.”

Bodkin began to grin. “And if he doesn’t have the belt on him, but has hidden it somewhere else, the threat of my bees will soon persuade him to divulge its whereabouts! I say. Ragwort, I like your idea much more than ours.”

“It’s settled then,” Ragwort declared, pleased. “We’ll tell the other brownies on the way, and as soon as we get to the gardens, we’ll let Miss Polly and Sir Dominic know there’s had to be a change of plan.”

Bodkin nodded. “All right, but come on, we’ve talked too long. The pony cart will be in the lane in a minute, so let’s get the pumpkin out of here.” Swinging the heavy pole over his shoulder again, he led the way out of the stable.

The other brownies turned with startled gasps on seeing the enormous jack-o’-lantern for the first time. Eyes widened, and there were murmurs of mixed admiration and nervousness as they milled around to examine it. Caraway sidled up to Ragwort. “Is it yours?” she asked, forgetting she wasn’t speaking to him.

“No, it’s Bodkin’s,” he replied reluctantly. Oh, if only it
were
his, how marvelous he would appear now! Caraway’s eyes moved admiringly to Bodkin, and Ragwort’s jealousy stirred. “He already has a sweetheart, so don’t think you can—”

Incensed, she interrupted. “I wasn’t thinking I could anything, Ragwort!” With a toss of her head, she stalked away.

His lower lip jutted, and he would have sunk into his former gloom again, but for another pair of shining brown eyes. The young lady brownie from number twenty-six smiled shyly at him, and he smiled back. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all, he thought.

Caraway saw the exchange, and suddenly it was her turn to be jealous. She immediately singled out her rival. “Ragwort’s mine, you keep your sticky fingers
off!”
she hissed, and with an alarmed gasp, the other brownie backed away.

Giles arrived with the borrowed pony cart, and Ragwort made himself visible to his human friend. “This is very good of you, Giles,” he said gratefully.

“Glad to be of assistance,” the footman replied.

Bodkin and Ragwort waited while the other brownies clambered on. Then they lifted the pumpkin carefully aboard, hid it under a blanket and climbed up themselves. As they made themselves comfortable, Giles handed Ragwort Hordwell’s explanatory note.

“This was waiting for me at the house. It seems Mr. Horditall is now your friend.”

“Yes, we already know,” said Ragwort, smiling at Bodkin.

But Bodkin didn’t smile back. “I know he’s one of us now, but. ..”

“But what?”

“I can’t forgive him because no matter what, he still let Nutmeg be taken in the first place.” Bodkin glanced back at the unlit windows of Dominic’s house. “I’ll come for you tonight. Nutmeg, my love,” he whispered, vowing that nothing,
nothing
would be permitted to stand in his way on this most important Halloween of his long life.

Giles took up the reins. “Come on, lads, time is marching on.”

They wriggled down in the cart with the others, and as the cart rattled out of the mews, anyone who merely glanced at it would have thought it empty, but if closer attention were paid, they would have heard the excited whispers and smothered laughter of brownies setting out on the highlight of their year. From down in the town there came the distant sound of cheering as the Duke and Duchess of York set out for the gardens with their entourage.

In Sydney Gardens, the spit roast had been cooking for some time, and the smell of sizzling pork hung on the cold, still air. The orchestra was playing a Mozart minuet, and the crowds had been arriving for some time. Laughter and chatter resounded, the gardens twinkled with jack-o’-lanterns, and the bonfire was ready to be lit. Polly was about to leave her hotel room. Dominic had sent her a costume as promised, and she liked it very much. It consisted of a crimson velvet cloak that was embroidered all over with golden stars and crescent moons, and fastened over the left shoulder with a large brooch in the shape of a black cat. The cloak did not envelop her, but parted easily to reveal most of the cream gown she wore beneath. On her head she wore a crimson velvet witch’s hat that was stitched all over with golden spangles, and she was to carry a hazel twig broomstick that was propped up in readiness against one of the chairs.

The room was candlelit, and the embroidery on her costume glinted in the gentle light. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was very nervous now the time had come. Could she carry out her part of the plan? It was going to be very difficult to be pleasant to such a toad as Lord Benjamin, but somehow she’d have to manage it. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was a quarter to six. Dominic should arrive at any moment.

He knocked at the door. “Polly?”

“Yes?”

He came in with a flourish, so that his lime green cloth-of-gold robe swung richly. He was dressed as a sultan, with a white silk turban adorned with a jeweled aigrette, and Polly thought he looked very romantic and dashing indeed. After bestowing a grand eastern bow upon her, he smiled. “And how do you like being a witch?”

“I like it very much,” she replied.

“It suits you, for you have indeed bewitched me,” he murmured, stepping over to pull her into his arms.

Their kiss was as fierce as if they’d been parted for days, instead of just an hour or so, and intense emotion flared through Polly like wildfire. She was a woman who was now hopelessly, helplessly in love. It was a long moment before he slowly released her, and his eyes were very dark in the candlelight as he whispered, “I adore you, Miss Peach.”

“And I adore you, sir,” she whispered.

They turned as the sound of cheers carried from Great Pulteney Street. The royal carriages were drawing near. As a fanfare blared, Polly and Dominic went to the window to watch. There was an expectant stir in the gardens as everyone moved toward the equestrian entrance, through which the duke and duchess’s cavalcade would appear. Nearly everyone was a witch, ghost, wizard, goblin, mummy, devil, or druid, while the remainder had opted for a variety of other outfits, some of them so peculiar as to be unidentifiable.

A jingle of harness sounded out as the royal carriages swept in. Loud cheering began, but there were one or two boos because the duke and duchess hadn’t truly entered into the spirit of things by wearing fancy dress. The duchess looked rather tense, Polly thought, recalling some whispers she’d heard in the coffee room. It was being said that events at the Assembly Rooms had proved rather too much, and the royal lady had been obliged to languish in a darkened room. Tonight was her first appearance in public since the ball.

The cheers died away as the cavalcade came to a standstill beside the royal pavilion. Polly and Dominic could only just see through the trees as the duke handed the duchess down, and then they both approached the bonfire, which they were to light. A flame flickered, and grew larger and more vigorous, until suddenly the bonfire seemed to burst into life. Renewed cheers rang out, the first rockets shot upward like glowing arrows, and the orchestra began to play the much rehearsed and labored over “Royal Fireworks Music.” As the display got fully under way, the duke and duchess retreated to the comfort of their pavilion.

Dominic drew Polly away from the window and raised her hand to his lips. “Now remember, I will escort you to the bonfire, where there is plenty of light, then I will leave you. I will behave formally, so Beddem’s suspicions aren’t aroused. Then I will remain within sight and sound, so I can be with you again in a second if necessary.” He put his hand to her cheek. “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this? If not, you only have to say . . .”

“It’s only a dance.” She paused. “But I wish we had something better in mind than just the hope that Lord Benjamin will take off his coat in the heat of the bonfire. It seemed an excellent notion last night, but now it seems rather feeble.”