Mistletoe and Mischief (15 page)

Oh, that she had listened to Charles when he warned her!
But no, she was too headstrong, too intent upon what she wanted to do. Charles's only concern had been to spare her reputation, yet she had repeatedly embroiled him in one scrape after another. And now look what she'd done! She'd made a pig's breakfast out of everything!

To extract her from this bumblebroth, Charles would have to make public all the details of their entanglement and risk compromising himself, as well. She would be well served if he left her to suffer on her own.

But whatever he did, Louisa resolved,
she
would neither do nor say anything to implicate Charles in this affair.

* * * *

Unaware of these noble sentiments, Charles returned to the inn in a hurry--and without Miss Wadsdale. He would have been back much sooner if that troublesome lady had not played him along for so long.

At first she gave the impression of one who wished to be persuaded; and to that end, he had done his utmost to overcome all her tiresome objections. But, gradually, Charles came to realize that it was attention she wanted and that she had no real thought of accompanying him to London.

The importunities of a marquess could only enhance her sense of worthiness and give her a degree of consequence she had hitherto lacked in Lady Conisbrough's household. As soon as Charles detected that the object of her play-acting was her ladyship and not himself, he calmly bowed, politely excused himself with tightened lips and, gratefully turning his back on the whole Conisbrough ménage, left the estate.

At the inn door he was greeted by all the Spadger family.

Nan had the look of someone who had been gulled and did not care for it. Echoes of her feelings were reflected in Sammy's eyes.

Jim held Eliza and scowled as if he might throw her in Charles's face. Either that, Charles reflected with a sigh, or plant him a facer. It seemed obvious that Louisa had done something to disgrace them again.

Charles pressed his fingers to his eyes.

“Very well,” he said, letting his frustration show in his voice, “precisely
what
has my cousin done now?”

“She's been arrested, that's what!” Nan Spadger replied. “And what we're ta make of it, I do not know! “

“Arrested--good God!” Charles's heart almost stopped beating. His throat narrowed, and he forced himself to speak. “What do you mean?” His eyes darted towards Jim. “How did you let this happen?”

“Now, yor lordship--“ Of them all, only Sammy seemed to feel that, perhaps, there was room for discussion. “Tha' mustn't go blaming t' lad. He did what tha' said, but tha' wouldn't expect him ta go against law, I hope?”

Charles bit back his anger, but his heart was still beating queerly. He could only think of Louisa in trouble--serious trouble this time, it seemed--and he wanted to bash someone.

“No, of course not,” he said, gaining control of himself. “It couldn't be Jim's fault. But you must tell me quickly what happened and where I can find her!”

“She wor took for thieving!” Nan cried, dismay in every word.

Jim said sullenly, “She did say as how tha' might want to go along ta London wi'out her.”

Suspicion hung in the air. Charles could feel it and see it in their eyes, even as a million thoughts flitted inside his head. How well
did
he know her? Just because she had told him she was General Davenport's niece, did he know it to be true? What if...?

A warm passion took hold of him, and he spoke sharply, “That’s ridiculous! To say anything of the kind, she must have been quite upset. Louisa is heedless at times and... a little impulsive. But you all know very well she is no common criminal!”

The relief in his heart as he said this was like a spring bursting from beneath a rock. Of course he knew Louisa. She was a beautiful, infuriating nitwit, and it would give him great pleasure to strangle her. But she was no thief.

The thought of her sitting in a gaol somewhere tore at his chest; but he would see her out of this scandal if it was the last thing he did--before he resigned from the government.

Charles said more calmly, “There has been a mistake. Jim, you must tell me at once what the bailiff said.”

Jim shrugged and scratched his head; but it was plain Charles's calmness had lightened his sense of ill use. “I can't say that I knows, yor lordship. Sommat abowt her bein' a thief. But I wor that flummoxed–”

“Did he say what she had taken?”

Jim shook his head. Charles could see the episode had rattled the boy. But he was rattled now himself.

“Think, lad. He must have said something about it–-he couldn't have just taken her without more reason than that.”

A memory flickered across Jim's face, but he remained silent. Charles thought he must know something, but for whatever reason was hesitant to say.

“It's all right, lad. We've nothing to hide.”

Embarrassed, Jim rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and said, “Bailiff Hoggins did say sommat abowt Miss Conisbrough an’ how her–”

“Miss Conisbrough!” Charles's hope soared. “But my cousin has never met Miss Conisbrough.”

But Jim was nodding. “Aye, she did that, sir. Out in t' road, wi' t' carolling, she did. Miss Conisbrough stopped her carriage.”

“Did my cousin present herself?”

“No, sir. It wor his lordship's sister what talked to her. Sommat about her pelisse.”

Jim blushed when he spoke of the lady's garment, and Nan interjected, “For all that his lordship's no better than he should be, his sister's no a liar then, i' she?”

But Charles knew the answer now, and with relief washing through him, he broke into a smile.

“Damn Ned!” he said through his teeth, surprising all the Spadgers. But the patent ease of his anxiety cheered them and was quickly reflected in their faces.

“This is all his lordship's fault,” he said, and then improvised slightly, “He lent my cousin his sister's pelisse and sent it along with her baggage. Then he clearly left home without informing Miss Conisbrough. She must have seen it on a stranger and jumped to a faulty conclusion.

“But, enough of that. Where is my cousin, Jim? Where have they taken her?”

The Spadgers' relief was evident. The report that they had harboured a criminal had overset them. But now that they knew it to be false, they were eager to help.

“Bailiff Hoggins'll have her o'er at t' gaol in Selby, sir,” Nan volunteered.

“I did say as how I couldn't believe it of her, sir,” Sammy added. “T' lass has a good heart.”

Charles felt a deep warmth spreading inside him, but his urgency to be off overcame all other feelings.

“Jim, tell my coachman I shall need him at once. And give him directions to Selby, will you?”

“Yessir. Does tha' want ta take t' dog, yor lordship?”

Charles noticed Eliza for the first time in many minutes. Louisa's plight had driven her from his mind. But now she was struggling in Jim's arms to reach him, and he patted her head absently.

“No, keep her here for us, please. I'm not certain how long it will take to clear this mess up.

“And, Mrs. Spadger, prepare something special for our dinner, will you? I'm afraid that if I succeed, my cousin will be in need of a little sustenance.”

Chapter Eight

An hour’s drive brought him to Selby, and after a few inquiries, Charles found himself at the door of the gaol.

The warden, he found, was a man who took his calling seriously. None of Charles's representations could persuade him to free Louisa immediately. It appeared that unless Miss Conisbrough could be brought to drop her charges, and the magistrate's approval could be obtained, Louisa would spend Christmas in gaol.

The warden would, however, permit Charles to see her; so, after a futile and heated argument, Charles followed him through the heavy portal to the cell where she had been placed.

When the door opened, he saw her–sitting primly on the edge of a bed.

Two other women shared her quarters: a dark, filthy room with no more furniture than the cot on which she sat. A foul odour testified to the fact that no consideration had been given to the conveniences.

The sight of Louisa amidst such squalour brought a lump to Charles's throat.

She glanced up, and in that moment, their eyes met. Charles was almost certain he saw a flash of deep relief. She rose slowly and came to greet him.

“Hello, Charles,” she said contritely.

For one minute, he was robbed of speech. He wanted to take her hand in his and kiss it, apologize to her for letting this terrible thing happen. But the presence of the warden and the other prisoners made words impossible. He clasped her hand and pressed it.

Then his pent-up feelings found relief in rage.

“Warden–” he felt like punching the fellow “–this is intolerable! What do you mean by placing a lady in here?”

“Do not blame him, Charles,” Louisa said gently. “When he brought me here, I had no money and could not promise to pay my room and board. He had no choice but to place me with these women.”

“You should have told him–”

Louisa's smile cut him off. “Yes, I should have known you would come as soon as possible.” Her eyes filled with grateful tears that wrung his heart. But she blinked them away, saying determinedly, “But this unfortunate experience has been quite educational! I shall have much to say about the condition of our prisons!”

“Yes, I am certain you will. But that can wait. Warden, you will show us to a private cell! And please arrange to have refreshment brought to my cousin.”

He took Louisa by the arm and started to lead her from the cell, but she stopped him. “But, Charles, what about my companions?”

“What about them?”

“Should we not invite them to join us?”

Charles gave a startled laugh and then smothered it. Her two companions were more than likely women of the night. But he was glad to see that Louisa had not been grievously altered by her experience.

“No, Louisa, we cannot ask them to join us, but I shall be happy to have tea sent in to them.”

She spoke softly into his ear, “And cannot they each have a bed? If you had not come today, I should have had to share one with the two women. And now that I am to be gone, they will still have but one between them.”

Charles smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “As you wish.”

Then he was obliged to cut short her leave-taking from the other women, doing so with the information that she was not to be released yet.

“I am afraid,” he said, when they were alone, “that I shall have to ride back to Snaithby and make Miss Conisbrough drop her charges, then find the magistrate and get him to sign for your release.”

Louisa took the news with great composure. “That is quite all right, Charles. If it takes no more than today, I cannot really complain.” She smiled, but he fancied it was somewhat forced. “That is much less than I might have waited. The warden informed me that the next assizes will not take place for six months.”

Charles took her hands and held them to his chest. Louisa’s eyes fell.

“Did you think I would not come to get you out? “

She looked up, startled. “Oh, no, it wasn't you! It was just that I was so ashamed for having caused you more trouble! You told me I should wait inside and you were right! Can you forgive me?”

“But this wasn't your fault, after all, now was it?”

Her expression turned hopeful. “Don't you think so?”

Charles felt a surge of remorse. “Damn Ned!” he said again, and then, “And damn myself! No, this time, Louisa, you will not take the blame! I should have known not to rely on Ned. He left his manor without ever confiding in his sister–probably meant to serve her some trick and did not think of all the possible consequences.”

Louisa smiled, and Charles felt her hand tremble in his. He released it slowly and reluctantly.

“Why didn't you send a message for me?” he said when he had found his voice.

“But I did! I told Jim to tell you, you must go on! “

“That–” Charles frowned at her. “I disregarded that, of course. But why didn't you send for me, or give the bailiff my name? Something to delay his taking you until I arrived?”

Louisa coloured. He could see he had injured her pride.

“Did you think I would use your name and risk embarrassing you?”

Charles was touched. That she should consider both him and his name so much as to endure imprisonment alone made him admire her beyond belief. Her selfless actions made him begin to question his own worth–and not for the first time since he had met her. He was relieved, at least, that his suspicions about her had resolved themselves before he knew the whole story. In doubting her at all, even for a moment, he had grotesquely wronged her. He felt ashamed.

“You place too high a value upon my reputation,” he said, “and not enough on your own safety.”

But Louisa’s spirits had lifted. The knowledge that she was not to pass six months, or even one night, in this gaol seemed to have cleared them, and she no longer needed his comfort. Charles had found her subdued, but now she was ready to take advantage of her experience to further her knowledge.

He prepared to start the long drive back to Snaithby to make his explanations to Miss Conisbrough. By the time he had left, lost in his own sober reflections, Louisa, with pen and paper borrowed from the warden, had started writing down her ideas for reform of prison life.

* * * *

Because of the season, it took all day for Charles to complete his mission. Miss Conisbrough was at home, and after listening to his carefully edited story, was eager to be of assistance. She thought the whole episode a great joke, however, and delayed Charles needlessly with all her teasing. Knowing Ned and his propensity for inappropriate hilarity, Charles could not have been surprised. But he chafed inwardly throughout what seemed an interminable time for Ned's sister to write a letter to the magistrate withdrawing her charges.

Next, he was obliged to wait for the magistrate, a local squire, to return from his round of afternoon calls. After Charles explained the misunderstanding, however, the man still hesitated. He seemed to think some impropriety must have been attached to the affair, and he questioned Charles in an uncomfortable manner. Only Charles's rank, and the indisputable evidence of Miss Conisbrough's letter, finally persuaded him to issue a release.