Red Rose (22 page)

Her eyes widened. “I noticed she had not returned,” she said. “I have been worrying.”

“But that does not answer the question,” Raymore said. “If you know where she is, you must tell us.”

“I do not know.” she protested. “How should I?”

He strode across the room until he stood before her. He took her chin in his hand and raised it until she could not escape staring directly into his eyes. His touch was not gentle. “I know you resent my authority,” he said. She noticed that his eyes were like blue ice chips. “But you must understand that Sylvia’s reputation and perhaps her safety are very much at stake. You must tell me what you know. Now!”

“I am not a foolish girl, my lord,” she blazed, grasping the wrist of the hand that held her chin. “Of course I do not know where Sylvia is. Do you imagine that I have helped her plan some escapade, perhaps even an elopement? You cannot know me very well. ”

His grip tightened. His lips became a thin line.

Lord Standen broke the tension. “Miss Dacey,” he said, “I must believe you. I have the highest regard for your good sense. But please think. Perhaps you know something without realizing it. Does your cousin have a favorite place where she might have gone?”

Rosalind thought. “No, I know of none,” she said. “Are you sure that she has not run away, perhaps returned to London or even Raymore Manor? She is a rather impulsive girl and can change her affections quite rapidly.”

Standen flushed. “You mean she may be running from me?” he asked stiffly. “I think it hardly likely, ma’am. I can offer her all the worldly goods she can want and she has been well-received here by my mother. I can only believe that some accident has befallen them.” 

“Have you checked the stables, Standen, to see if any horses or carriages have been taken?” Raymore asked. “I cannot imagine how I did not think of doing so myself. ”

“Has anyone been down to the lake?” Rosalind asked. “Would they have gone there?”

It was agreed that Standen would go to the stables and Raymore to the lake. Rosalind begged to go with him, but he very firmly refused. She was forced, to return to the ballroom, smiling sociably as she returned to the sofa that she had occupied for most of the evening. She was confiding to Sir Bernard what had happened when Standen joined them, smiling easily.

“There is no horse or carriage missing,” he said. “I am afraid that I shall have to remain here, as the ball will be ending within the hour. I do not wish anyone else to know what has happened. I informed Mrs. Evanston a moment ago that Lady Marsh has been forced to retire with a headache.” He smiled and moved away to solicit the hand of a neighbor’s wife for the set that was forming.

“That is a cool customer,” Sir Bernard murmured to Rosalind. “I would wager that it will not go well for the little Sylvia when she is finally found. Propriety comes before all else in Standen’s book.”

“Yes,” Rosalind agreed, “but I cannot help agreeing that a scandal should be averted if at all possible.”

“Have they eloped, do you think?” Sir Bernard asked.

“You mean hired a carriage somewhere else?” she asked. “I fear it. From the start she has been more attached to Nigel than to his lordship, I believe, though I did not suspect love.”

She was feeling almost frantic by the time the Earl of Raymore reappeared in the ballroom when some of the guests were already taking their leave. He did not cross the room to her, but she did contrive to catch his eye. He shook his head imperceptibly.

Almost another hour had passed before a search party could be organized. By that time all the outside guests had left. Lord Standen had decided that he must enlist the help of all the men of the house party, and some of the servants. Inevitably, the whole household knew the story before much time had elapsed. The ladies gathered in the drawing room and ordered tea. The men began to search, on foot and on horseback. Even Rosalind rode out with Sir Bernard after Raymore had left and could not object. One servant was dispatched to the village to inquire discreetly whether any vehicle or horse had been hired during the night.

When dawn was already lightening the eastern sky, several members of the search party had gathered despondently in the main hallway. There did not seem to be anywhere else to search.

“Come, Axby,” Mr. Morrison said wearily, “let us go down to the lake. It should be easier now to see any sign with daylight coming.”

“I searched there earlier,” Raymore said. “I walked the bank in both directions as far as I could go. But go again. Perhaps I missed something. The boat was still safely tied up by the bank.”

“Boat?” Rosalind queried. “You mean boats, my lord. There are two.”

He blanched as he looked into her frantic eyes. “There was one at the bank,” he said.

All who were gathered in the hallway made immediately for the doorway. Rosalind, feeling sick with apprehension, also rushed forward. Raymore stopped her.

“No,” he said firmly. “You must stay here.”

“I must go,” she cried. “Oh, do not be cruel. I cannot wait here. Please! I must come.”

He caught her by the arms and looked earnestly into her face. “You must stay here,” he said. “If you walk all that way, you will hurt yourself and be an invalid. Then you will be of no use to anyone. You may be needed. As soon as we find out something, I shall send someone running back to inform you. Now, promise me you will stay.”

"Yes,” she whispered, mesmerized by his eyes. “Bring her back safe, Edward.”

He squeezed her arms and after a moment’s hesitation kissed her softly on the forehead. Then he was gone.

The growing daylight helped the search party find the missing boat within the next hour. They found it overturned, knocking against the bank one mile away from the place where the other was moored.

“They might have swum to shore too,” Mr. Morrison said hopefully. “Can Lady March swim, Raymore?”

“I have no idea,” the earl replied. He was feeling physically sick. She was dead! They would find her body some time during the day, perhaps by dragging the bottom of the lake.

“But Nigel can,” Lord Standen was saying, “and has swum in this lake many times. As children we got more than one strapping from our father by challenging each other and swimming to the island.”

“Could they be on the island, Standen?” Sir Bernard Crawleigh asked, shading his eyes and peering across the water.

“It seems a sensible place to start,” Mr. Morrison replied. “Let us look there first, George, and then organize a thorough search of the banks.”

The Earl of Raymore and Lord Standen jumped into the dry boat and the latter rowed them across the water toward the small cluster of trees that made up the island.

“There is a small pavilion in the center that we used as children,” Lord Standen said. “If they are indeed here, they would probably go there for some warmth and shelter from the wind. ”

Raymore said nothing but strained his eyes to see into the trees.

Nigel heard their voices and the splash of the oars as they approached. He shook Sylvia and leapt to his feet. By the time the boat had reached the shore and before either man could climb out onto land, they were greeted by the sight of a sadly bedraggled pair coming through the trees toward them. Sylvia’s hair was matted against her head, a few dried curls fanning out wildly in the breeze. Her face was pale and mud-streaked, her gown a sad ruin of limp, damp lace and silk. Nigel looked no better. His silk knee breeches were wrinkled; his velvet coat was shapeless and dark with wetness. He held Sylvia’s cloak in the hand that was not around her waist.

“Thank heaven you have found us,” she said weakly.

Raymore was on the bank in one leap. “Thank God you are alive,” he exclaimed. He whipped off the heavy black cloak that he wore, enveloped her in its folds, and held her shivering form against him. “Thank God,” he said again, hugging her closer. “Rosalind will be so relieved.”

Lord Standen was still sitting in the boat, “What is the meaning of this, Nigel?” he asked stiffly.

“The boat overturned in the rough water,” Nigel said, looking the picture of misery as he watched another man tend his darling. “Fortunately, we were close to the island and I managed to swim here with Sylvia.”

“But what, in God’s name, were you doing on the lake in the middle of a ball?”

Raymore interrupted what looked like becoming a lengthy interrogation and suggested that they take the two victims back to the house with all speed, where they might change into dry clothes and tell their story in greater comfort. “Will this boat carry four?” he asked Standen.

“Yes,” his lordship replied, “provided everyone sits still.” He looked significantly at his brother.

True to his word. Raymore dispatched Sir Bernard Crawleigh back to the house at a run to reassure the ladies that all was well. Several of them were on the doorstep waiting when the search party finally emerged from the trees, Nigel walking disconsolately beside his brother, Sylvia being carried the last part of the way by Raymore.

It was decided that Nigel and Sylvia retire to their rooms immediately for a hot bath, a change into dry clothes, and a hot drink. Standen suggested that everyone else do likewise, since all had had a sleepless night.

“This afternoon we can find out exactly what happened,” he said. “For now it is enough to know that both are safe.”

Rosalind went into Sylvia’s room a little later to see how she did. Her cousin was sitting up in bed drinking a cup of steaming milk while a maid emptied a bathtub that stood before a roaring fire.

“How are you, Sylvia?” Rosalind asked.

“It is so lovely to be warm,” Sylvia replied. “I do believe I might escape without catching a chill, Ros.”

“Was it deliberate?” Rosalind continued. “I mean, did you intend to get marooned?”

Her cousin hesitated. “I would have told you,” she said, “but I did not want to put you in the position of having either to betray me or to protect me by lying. Cousin Edward did question you, did he not?”

“But why, Sylvie?” Rosalind persisted. “If you had changed your mind, why did you just not have the courage to tell Lord Standen so? Why involve poor Nigel?”

“Because if I had just broken the engagement, Nigel would have felt honor-bound to stay away from me,” Sylvia said earnestly. “Please understand, Ros. We love each other.”

“Are you quite sure?” Rosalind asked. “What will you do this time when you fall out of love?”

“Oh, I shall not,” her cousin assured her. “This is different, Ros. I had no idea of loving Nigel when I first met him. The feeling grew on me, you see. I know I cannot expect you to believe me, but time will tell. I shall love Nigel for ever and ever, I swear.”

Rosalind squeezed her hand and took the empty cup from her, “Whatever the explanation,” she said, “you have had a terrible ordeal. Go to sleep now.”

***

The ordeal was not over for Sylvia. When she was summoned to the library in the late afternoon, she found that she had to face three grim-faced men. Raymore and Lord Standen stood facing the door, their backs to the fireplace. Nigel stood looking out of a window.

The Earl of Raymore spoke first. “Nigel has told us, Sylvia, that he suggested that boat ride so that you could have the best of the cool air and that the boat tipped in the choppy water.”

“That is not so,” she said, agitated, looking swiftly at Nigel’s back. “It was I who suggested the boat ride, and I tipped the boat when I moved suddenly. I am truly sorry, Edward, that I caused such anxiety, but Nigel was entirely the gentleman. He was not in any way to blame.”

“However it was,” Raymore continued gravely, “the fact remains that you were alone for several hours with a man who is not your husband or your betrothed.”

“Oh, but nothing happened,” she assured them with wide, innocent eyes. “We merely tried to keep each other warm. We were so wet and cold, you see.”

“Lady Sylvia,” Lord Standen said. His expression when she turned to him was wooden. “I deeply regret the fact that this happened when there are so many guests here as witnesses. Nigel has offered to do the honorable thing and marry you. I am forced to agree. I much regret having to do so, and I am sure that it will be painful to you to end our betrothal thus. However, I can assure you that my brother has a steady character and a competent income. He will be able to support you and will make you a good husband.”

Sylvia hung her head.

“Well, what do you have to say?” Raymore asked a trifle impatiently.

She looked up at Standen. “I am sorry,” she said. "This will cause you great embarrassment, my lord, and you have always been kind to me. I shall do what you consider right.”

The tears in her eyes looked genuine enough, Raymore thought. Little minx!

“I should like to make my offer in private, please,” Nigel said, his back still to the room.

“Of course,” said Lord Standen. “Raymore?”

When the two men had left the room, Nigel turned to face her at last. His face was white and drawn; the tears in her eyes had begun to spill over onto her cheeks. They stood and looked at each other for a few moments, then rushed into each other’s arms.

“I did a terrible thing, did I not?” she said a while later. “Is he hurt, do you think, Nigel?”

“Yes, at the moment,” he said gently. “But remember, Sylvia, that he does not know that we love each other and really wish to marry. He could still have insisted on marrying you himself without causing any very great scandal. I have the deepest respect for my brother and believe him capable of love. But this time I do not believe his heart has been deeply touched. Honor and reputation mean more to him on this occasion.”

“And do you truly wish to marry me?” she asked anxiously.

He looked down at her with a fond smile. “I am supposed to do the asking, remember?” he said.

“Oh,” said Sylvia.

“Will you do me the great honor of marrying me, my love?” he asked, putting his forehead against hers.

She fingered the buttons on his jacket. “I shall always love you,” she said quietly, “and I shall spend my life making it up to you for not really giving you a choice.”

“Does that mean yes?”