The Affectionate Adversary (38 page)

Danny’s face broke into a wide grin. “I am pleased to hear it, sir, for ye shall be the best ’usband and father, and the most honest of all traders near and far.”

“Thank you for your faith in me, young Mr. Martin. I shall do my best always to live up to it.” He let out a breath as the carriage slowed before the large house on Cranleigh Crescent. “And now I must ask you to pray for me in silence as I speak of these matters with my dear Sarah. She loves me as I love her, but the course of our affection has not run smoothly. I should very much hope to find her in agreement with all my own feelings. But be assured that if she is not, we shall strive to come to a place of joint communion.”

“I shall wait for ye in the carriage, sir,” Danny said. “And ye shall have me prayers, for whatever they be worth to ye.”

“They are worth a great deal.”

So saying, Charles stepped out onto the street and climbed the steps to the door of Trenton House. A footman answered and took Charles’s card. “Mr. Locke,” he said, “I regret to inform you that the family has departed town for the remainder of the season.”

Charles took a step back. “Gone? Lady Delacroix and her sister both?”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me, please.” The footman made to shut the door.

Charles stuck out his hand to hold it open. “But where? Where have they gone?”

“I am not at liberty to reveal their present abode. Forgive me, sir, but the house is closed until winter.”

As the footman stepped back and pushed the door to, Charles turned on his heel and raced down the stairs. “Across the Crescent!” he called to the carriage driver. “Meet me at the Heathhills’ house!”

Without pausing to explain, he took off running across the large expanse of green grass toward the imposing façade of the two-story home. He was still sprinting up the steps when a liveried footman stepped through the door to greet him.

“The master and mistress of the house are not in, sir,” he said.

“But where are they? My good man, I am looking for Lady Delacroix. I have just learned that she and her sister are away from town. Can you tell me where they have gone?”

“No, sir. I beg your pardon, sir.”

“Upon my word, I am a close friend of the family. I must know where …” He stopped his words. It would do no good. Servants were never at liberty to disclose the comings and goings or other private information regarding their masters. As his carriage rounded the crescent-shaped park onto which all the homes faced, Charles pointed in the direction of Delacroix House.

A dash down the street took him to the steps of that grand domicile, which he took two at a time. “Lord Delacroix,” he blurted, flipping his card at the footman who answered the door. “Charles Locke to see him. Do not tell me he is out, man, just fetch him forthwith.”

The footman’s eyes widened. “Do come in, sir. I shall inform my master that he has a caller.”

“Excellent. And see that he makes haste; I beg you. I must speak to him at once.”

The footman regarded the visitor with a suspicious glance over his shoulder as he carried the silver tray down the corridor. Charles took off his hat and tapped it against his leg. How could she have gone away without telling him? Her sister had lied! They were all out of town, and he had lost her again. Blast!

Grinding his teeth, Charles paced the black-and-white marbled floor. This was unthinkable. Why had she left him? They had declared their love—in public. She had agreed before her sisters to become his wife. What had undone everything?

“Locke?” Lord Delacroix’s voice echoed down the hall. “I say, my good man, how pleased I am to hear from you at last. Capital to see you! Capital!”

“Delacroix,” Charles burst out. “Where is she? Where have they gone?”

“Who?”

“Lady Delacroix. Her sisters. I am told they have left town for the season.”

“Upon my word, they have not. I saw Mrs. Heathhill only two hours ago. She said she intended to lie down, for she is tired in the afternoons these days. It is the way with women in her delicate condition, you know. But you are very distressed, sir. Come, who told you the women were away?”

“The manservant. Trenton House is closed for the season. He would give me no further information and shut the door on me. I have not spoken to Lady Delacroix these three days, but as was proper, I wrote to her sister, and Mrs. Heathhill informed me that she was well. She said that Lady Delacroix and Miss Watson were occupying themselves pleasantly and that all were awaiting word regarding my future plans. I have elected to use the money as it was originally intended—”

“You will establish your tea company then? Excellent! I have good news for you, sir. Several men who heard about the fortunate recovery of your chest of gold are most eager to meet with you to discuss that venture. Your tea company is quite the talk—”

“Hang the tea company! Where is Sarah?”

Delacroix’s brows lifted for a moment before he spoke again. “Mr. Locke, you are again a man of some means, but you cannot think her sisters will permit Lady Delacroix to marry you. No matter what she said.”

“I think that decision belongs to the lady herself, and if she has been taken away—”

“She is not taken away. Calm yourself, man. Mrs. Heathhill informs me that her two sisters have gone off on a holiday.”

“A holiday?” Charles bellowed. “Where?”

“She would not say. They are to rest and refresh themselves. I should imagine they have gone to Bath or Brighton. But you never know. I am told that Lady Delacroix fancies Hampshire and may purchase a property there. And the entire family is fond of the Lake District. So it is quite possible—”

“Delacroix!” Charles said, grabbing the man’s shoulders. “You will tell me where she is … now!”

“Upon my honor, I do not know!” He jerked free of Charles’s grasp. “Come, we shall call upon Mrs. Heathhill. If she is resting, we shall wait for her to arise. Perhaps she will agree to tell us where her sisters have gone.”

As Charles accompanied Delacroix back out into the sum- mer afternoon, he knew the end of all the promise of the day. She had left him. Whether convinced by her sisters to leave or gone away of her own accord, Sarah had left him. She did not want him. Her love was not strong enough to overcome her fear. She could not trust him to honor her beliefs and to act upon his own conscience as a Christian.

The two men walked the short distance back to the Heathhill residence. Charles’s carriage, with Danny still inside, followed at a discreet distance. Delacroix clearly wished to dismiss the matter of the missing women. His mind was on the tea company, and he made no attempt to disguise his interest in the scheme. Friends, acquaintances, business relations—all had been told of the chest of gold that had been delivered from the hands of cutthroat pirates by a lad of twelve. Young Danny Martin had become a veritable angel sent from heaven, while Charles himself appeared as a hero bent on glory and fortune.

What tripe. Charles could hardly bear to listen to the man’s gushing narrative as they mounted the steps to the Heathhill residence. Suddenly, the tea company looked to him exactly as it had to Sarah upon Charles’s first description of it to her. Empty. A great mound of nothingness. A dream with no foundation. A hollow hope built on misguided priorities.

“Do come in, Lord Delacroix,” the footman said. This time, he took Charles’s card and placed it on his tray. “Mr. Locke. I shall see if Mrs. Heathhill is disposed to greet callers.”

“At least we know she is in,” Delacroix murmured to Charles as the footman hurried up the stairs leading from the foyer. The two men entered the reception room at the front of the house, but neither was inclined to sit. Charles paced the floor, trying to think how to find Sarah and change her mind. But what if he was unable? Had he chosen wrongly? Was Sarah not meant to become his wife? In the carriage it had been so easy to explain the workings of God’s divine plan to Danny. Now Charles felt as much confusion as he had ever known in his life.

“Tea, you know, will never go out of fashion,” Delacroix was saying. “Coffee may wane, but not tea. A man will always want his morning brew. And a lady must have her afternoon cup. Indeed, one can hardly escape tea wherever one goes these days. The East India Company deserves credit for introducing that great beverage to us, but Parliament was right to end their monopoly. Open the sea-lanes to free trade, I say. Competition will infuse healthy blood into the economy of this country. Nothing better than men vying for business. Money is to be made in tea, and why not us, sir? Why not?”

Charles leveled a stare at the golden-haired young lord who had never lifted a finger to labor at anything in his life. What did Delacroix know about tea or business or competition?

“Ah, Lord Delacroix!” Mrs. Heathhill stepped into the room and smiled at the gentlemen awaiting her. “Mr. Locke, how do you do? I am so pleased to see you both. Do sit down.”

“I hope you are well, madam?” Delacroix began. “You are looking rather—”

“I beg your pardon,” Charles cut in, “but I can no longer delay upon the subject that consumes me. Mrs. Heathhill, I must know where your sisters have gone. I am told that Trenton House is closed for the season.”

She smiled at Charles. “They are away, sir, but I fear I am not at liberty to—”

“Mrs. Heathhill, you must tell me where Lady Delacroix has gone. You heard her declaration of love for me, and you know very well that she accepted my proposal of marriage. I expect to make your sister my wife, and I beg you to tell me where she is.”

“Dear, dear Mr. Locke.” Mrs. Heathhill sighed as she sat down and drew out a letter, which she extended toward Charles. “My eldest sister left London shortly after you departed Trenton House with your gold, and she wishes not to be contacted by you or Lord Delacroix or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Not by me?” Delacroix said in astonishment.

“No one.” Mrs. Heathhill leaned back as Charles took the letter from her hand and broke the seal. “My sister finds company tedious at present. She is eager to rest and refresh herself. I am sure you understand.”

Charles scanned the short note written in Sarah’s careful hand.
Dear Mr. Locke
, he read.

Please forgive me for any surprise or pain my sudden departure may bring, but I find I am unable to remain in London at present. I am sure you will understand that my statements to you this afternoon were made in haste and without careful consideration, and I feel certain you will agree that they were not meant to be taken seriously. I do thank you for your friendship. I shall pray for your health and for the well-being of your tea company.

Sincerely,

Sarah Carlyle, Lady Delacroix

Charles folded the letter and studied Mrs. Heathhill. “She wrote this of her own volition, did she?”

“She did. Mr. Locke, you must see that while my sister values the acquaintance she made with you aboard the
Queen Elinor
, she understands too well that you and she are from different worlds. Her purposes are not your own. And while your present happy situation makes you welcome in our society, you cannot reasonably expect to form an attachment to a lady whose circumstances are so far above your own.”

“As you have reminded your sister and me very often, Mrs. Heathhill.” He looked down at the note in his hand. “And this is all I am to have from her? This letter? These few words?”

She shrugged. “What else can you expect? Sir, be content. You have been given much. Do not ask for more; I beg you.”

With that, she claimed that she was feeling extremely weak, made her farewells to Delacroix and to Charles, and drifted from the room like a dandelion seed upon the wind. Charles stared after the woman, unable to accept all that had transpired. He had left his home in every certainty of joy and contentment. And now he stood clutching the ruination of all he held most dear.

“Excuse me, Lord Delacroix,” Charles said, making for the foyer. “I beg your pardon, but I must go.”

“May I call on you, sir?” the man cried after him.

Charles hurried down the steps without answering. The footman held the carriage door open for him, and Charles climbed into the welcome shadows of the leather-lined cocoon.

As the coachman set the horses in motion and the carriage moved forward, he crumpled the letter. Lost. Gone. He must accept it. All was finished. Done.

“Be ye well, sir?” The voice beside him startled Charles. “Ye were runnin’ back and forth as if the devil hisself were after ye.”

“Ah, Danny—” Charles let out a breath—“I believe he has been after me, and he has captured me in his foul grip.”

“What has ’appened, Mr. Locke? Some terrible misfortune, I fear.”

“My love … my dearest Sarah …” Charles bit off the words. “It is too much to explain, lad. I have lost her. That is all you need to know.”

“Lost her, sir? Be she dead?”

“No, Danny. But she has left London … left me … gone away forever.”

The boy sat in silence for a moment. “’Tis a terrible trial, sir.”

“It is, Danny. I am undone.”

“Undone? After ye told me not an hour ago the lady were meant to be your wife?”

“I thought she was, Danny. But now—”