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AS OUR COACH TURNED onto Marsh Lane, but had not yet reached the gray stone edifice, we noticed another carriage parked on the drive and wondered who the caller might be. Coming to a halt on the pebbled drive before the house, the footman who’d been clinging to the rear of our coach, hopped to the ground to let down the steps, then flung open the carriage door and extended a hand to assist each of us to alight.
“Perhaps a friend of my aunt’s has come to call,” Ellie murmured.
“I did not think your aunt was yet receiving callers, is she?” Hannah questioned, reaching to adjust her bonnet after she alighted.
“Then, perhaps your mother has returned,” Ellie suggested as we four headed toward the covered portico fronting the house.
Hannah glanced back over her shoulder. “Medley Park carriages are green with gold stripes down the side. That coach is black and quite plain. And appears to be in want of a good polish.”
I smiled to myself. Without meaning to, at times, Hannah could sound a trifle uppity. I rather believed Ellie’s suggestion that Mrs. Dandridge was entertaining a caller was more to the point. Until the instant we stepped inside the house and Jenkins solemnly addressed the four of us.
“There are callers awaiting you ladies in the drawing room.”
Oh! thought I, perhaps Mr. Sheridan and an official from the Home Office had already arrived in response to my note! Removing my bonnet and gloves and shrugging from my pelisse, I handed them off to Tilda before hurrying a few steps ahead of Hannah and Ellie down the long corridor toward the drawing room. Sliding the pocket door aside, I abruptly halted when I noted a pair of gentlemen standing before the mantelpiece at the top of the chamber, and neither were Mr. Sheridan. Both men turned the instant I advanced into the room; Hannah and Ellie, having now also removed their outer garments, following mere steps behind me.
“I do hope you will forgive us for pushing in, Miss Abbott.”
“Mr. Wells! How delightful to see you again, sir,” I exclaimed, smiling as I drew nearer the gentlemen.
Mr. Wells looked splendid today in a blue superfine coat over tan trousers. Politely inclining his head, he turned toward his companion. “May I present my good friend, Mr. Jordan Burns. Burns and I were school mates at university and now share rooms at Albany House.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Burns.” Turning to the girls standing mutely nearby, I said, “Hannah, say hello to your cousin, Mr. Wells, and his friend, Mr. Jordan Burns. Gentlemen, this young lady,” I turned to Ellie, “is Miss Eleanor Palmer.”
As additional greetings were exchanged, I stepped to the bell pull to summon Jenkins. When he re-appeared, I said. “Please instruct Norris to prepare a platter of sandwiches, and also one of biscuits, and bring up two pots of tea, if you will, sir.”
“Very well, miss.” Jenkins bowed from the room whereupon the five of us took seats on a sofa and chairs clustered in the middle of it, and commenced to converse upon this or that, though nothing of consequence, really. At length, Norris appeared, followed by three uniformed housemaids, each carrying silver trays loaded with an assortment of sandwiches, cakes and also plates, cups, saucers, and napkins. All was soon laid out upon the sideboard situated beneath the bank of windows that overlooked the drive.
I believe I previously mentioned that Norris is an attractive young woman, perhaps not above six and twenty. Possessed of even features, her face is framed by reddish-brown curls. Her cheeks and lips are rosy and long lashes emphasize luminous brown eyes. Each time I see her, I wonder how one so young has managed to attain the status of housekeeper in so large a household. At any rate, moments after laying out our tea, the young housekeeper sought me out. “I shall inform Mrs. Dandridge that you are entertaining, miss.”
A bit startled, I drew back. “Very well, Norris. You may also tell her that I shall be up to see her before dinner.” When the housekeeper nodded, rather curtly, I noted that her brown eyes now seemed especially hard and completely devoid of warmth. Lifting my chin, I added, “I shall ring if we require anything further, Norris. For now, that will be all.”
The young woman, who stood a few inches taller than I, nodded; then with a flick of a finger beckoned for two of the housemaids to follow her, which left one maid to both pour tea and pass around platters of food.
Dismissing my odd exchange with the housekeeper, I was pleased that the five of us, the two young men and we three ladies, seemed to be getting on well with none of the usual stiffness that often besets unacquainted persons. Mr. Burns was even managing to draw out Ellie.
I heard him ask her from where she hailed and what sort of pastimes she enjoyed. When Ellie mentioned that she quite liked to play a simple card game called Sticks and Toads, which to my mind, was a somewhat childish game, he, nonetheless, insisted that we play a set. So, we did. The men arranged chairs around a small square table on the opposite side of the room, and we all five squeezed round it and played several sets, laughing with one another as we did so. I was pleased to see that both Hannah and Ellie seemed to enjoy the impromptu diversion.
At about half past four, the lowering rays of the sun streaming through the windows began to slant across the drawing room floor. Hannah suggested that we abandon the card game and instead . . . dance!
“Ellie and I shall be expected to dance at the Holland ball and since I have only ever danced with my brother and the vicar’s son, I am sadly in want of practice.” She turned a pleading gaze on me. “Might we dance now please, Miss Abbott? Please?”
“I see no reason why not.” I smiled. “Would you gentlemen mind terribly obliging the ladies?”
“We would be delighted!” Mr. Wells declared, his gaze fastened on me.
“I shall play for us,” Ellie softly announced. With no urging, she headed straight for the pianoforte to select a piece whilst the men busied themselves pushing aside the sofa and chairs and rolling up the small rug covering the center of the floor.
I was not at all surprised when Mr. Wells claimed my hand, which left Mr. Burns to partner Hannah. Not nearly so handsome as his friend, Jordan Burns was, nonetheless, a fine looking fellow. His hair was lighter in colour than Mr. Wells’ and he seemed always to be smiling.
“We are ready, Miss Palmer!” called my partner, tossing a glance her way then looking back at me. “Shall we give it a go, Miss Abbott?”
Once more, amidst bursts of gay laughter when steps were missed or a wrong foot put forward, we four managed to get through the patterns of that set and then another, whereupon Hannah said, “Miss Abbott, will you play for us now, so Ellie and I may both practice with a proper partner?”
“I am so sorry, Hannah.” On a sigh, I shook my head. “Surely you recall that I am not at all proficient on the pianoforte. If we are to have music for dancing, either you or Ellie must provide it.”
I felt quite foolish admitting my lack of proficiency in that oh! so, necessary feminine art, but, the sad truth was, both music and dancing lessons had eluded me the whole of my life. It occurred to me that when I next spoke with Mrs. Dandridge I would insist we engage a caper master to instruct the girls in the latest dance steps, hopefully before the Holland ball commenced in less than a sen’night. I felt quite remiss now that I’d not thought to remedy that portion of the girls’ education before today.
“Very well.” Hannah cheerfully slid onto the bench. “I shall play so that Ellie can practice with a gentleman partner.”
Ellie, whose cheeks had suddenly become quite pink, moved to take Hannah’s place before Mr. Burns in order to partner with him.
Still standing near me, I was caught off guard when Mr. Wells, gazing deeply into my eyes, said, “I confess I am not the least bit unhappy to continue to partner you, Miss Abbott.”
Lowering my gaze, I felt my cheeks grow pink. To encourage Hannah’s cousin had never been my intent. I grew further disconcerted when the tune Hannah chose to play clearly featured the rhythmic three/four tempo of a waltz. My heart sank as Mr. Wells’ smile widened. I edged a step away from him even as he placed a warm hand at my back and held out the other for me to rest my fingertips upon his palm.
“I take it you waltz, Miss Abbott.” His lips twitched.
“Indeed, I do, sir.” I nodded, albeit tightly.
After only a few graceful turns, Jenkins entered the room, followed by another gentleman, whose countenance, I noted, turned to displeasure the instant he caught sight of the proceedings in the drawing room.
The cool expression on Mr. Sheridan’s face caused my heart to plunge to my feet. At once dropping Mr. Wells’ hand, I extricated myself from his arms and rushed to the doorway where my special friend stood, a scowl marring his handsome features.
Neither of us waited for Jenkins to announce his presence.
With a nod, Mr. Sheridan’s dark eyes pinned mine as he stepped around Jenkins. “I came the instant I received your note, Miss Abbott. Am I to assume you wished me to partner you for a dance, or was there another reason for your urgent summons?”
“Thank you for coming so quickly, sir.” My eyes pleaded with his for understanding. “Indeed, there is another reason for my message, which,” I added softly, “I shall reveal to you straightaway.”
Hannah had ceased to play and Mr. Burns and Ellie were no longer dancing. All four were now gazing curiously at me, and our newest arrival.
I turned toward the others. “May I present Mr. William Sheridan.” Again, I gazed up at the tall gentleman by my side. “The girls and I were surprised to find we had callers when we returned from Town a bit ago, sir. Mr. Wells is Hannah’s cousin and Mr. Burns, a chum of his.” A somewhat nervous smile wavered over my face. “Hannah and Ellie wished to practice their dance steps, so our callers kindly obliged.”
Before Mr. Sheridan could point out that I was dancing with one of the gentlemen, I rushed to ask, “Would you care for a cup of tea, sir?” A hand indicated the remains of the small repast still visible upon the sideboard beneath the windows.
I took a step that way, hoping Mr. Sheridan would follow. Drawing nearer to Mr. Wells, I paused. “If you will excuse me, sir, I must confer with Mr. Sheridan on a matter of some urgency. Hannah,” I turned her way. “Do carry on; you and Ellie can take turns dancing with either your cousin, or Mr. Burns.”
“Might we send for Tilda to join us?” Hannah asked from where she stood before the piano keyboard.
“An excellent idea.” I brightened. “I expect she is above stairs if you would like to send Jenkins for her, or you may go up and fetch her yourself.”
I turned back to my guest. “Shall I pour you a cup of tea, Mr. Sheridan? Perhaps, you would like a sandwich, or a biscuit?”
“Neither, Miss Abbott.” His tone was chilly, his polite visage all but vanished.
Lowering my voice, I said, “I cannot leave the girls alone with a pair of gentlemen callers, sir.”
“And, I did not come for tea, Miss Abbott. Shall I call at a more convenient time?”
“Please, sir.” A bit of an impatient sigh escaped me as I turned my attention to the tea table; reached for an empty cup and began to fill it.
I was most grateful when in only a few minutes Tilda appeared in the room. She was not dressed as fashionably as the other two ladies, to be sure, but she looked presentable enough. I soon became aware of not only Hannah, but also Mr. Wells and Ellie attempting to teach my wide-eyed little maid the patterns of a dance. With the others thusly occupied, and after successfully cajoling Mr. Sheridan to at least accept a cup of rather lukewarm tea, we both headed for the far end of the cavernous chamber.
“Sir, I delivered a note to your rooms earlier today for a specific reason. While at the dressmaker’s, I overheard several ladies speaking amongst themselves . . .” I went on to quickly tell him all that I had heard, that Conner Dandridge was thought to still be in London, and that the life of the slain man’s father, Lord Woolsey, was likely now in danger.
“I thought it imperative to pass the information along to you as quickly as possible.” I looked up at him in a beseeching manner. “I feared the Home Office had already dispatched you to the continent in search of the killer. I especially hoped to reach you before you left on another extended journey abroad; this one akin to carrying coals to Newcastle.”
At that, I was pleased to note Mr. Sheridan’s handsome features relax. “I see. I confess I was pleased to receive your note, Miss Abbott.”
“You are not angry with me for . . .?” My gaze darted to the others all laughing gaily as they cavorted about the drawing room.
“Not at all.” His tone softened. “Although, to see you in the arms of another man was . . . not pleasant. Still, I own I am scarcely in a position to protest.”
“You realize, sir,” I began, “that in the coming weeks, I will be obliged to accompany the girls to Almack’s Assembly Rooms, and to an upcoming ball hosted by . . . Lord and Lady Holland, if I remember correctly. At any rate, there will be numerous other society events to which the girls are sure to be invited, and I shall be expected to chaperone them. I cannot ignore my obligation to Lady Medley, or the girls.”
Nodding, he said, “I understand.” He then went on to tell me that late last night the Home Office had instructed members of the king’s militia to board every ship in the harbour bound for the continent in search of Conner Dandridge.
“Another half dozen men fanned out to every port between here and Gibraltar in search of the fugitive. Unfortunately, all efforts were to no avail. That Dandridge might still be in London, or thereabouts, does seem likely.” He paused to take a sip of tea. “Consequently, if the Dandridge boy has not already fled, he might very well be hiding somewhere here on the estate.” He glanced up and through a cloudy windowpane.
My gaze followed his, and again I spotted King George on the drive, tethered a bit apart from our caller’s dusty carriage, which I presume was hired or perhaps shared by the gentlemen residents of Albany House.
“I expect there are outbuildings on the grounds here,” Mr. Sheridan was saying, “tenant farmer’s huts, unoccupied cottages and such. Does Mrs. Dandridge employ a steward? A man to oversee the . . .?”
“I shall inquire, sir. I am to speak with her a bit later. Although . . . if her grandson has sought refuge here, I shouldn’t wish to alert her, and possibly him through her, that the authorities are now searching for him.”
“Good point. Perhaps I shall nose around whilst I am here today. I rode past several paths headed off the main road, leading into the woods.”
“Do be careful, sir.” I reached to touch his hand. “Conner Dandridge is likely armed and he has already killed once.”
Grinning, Mr. Sheridan squeezed my fingertips. “As I am sure you are aware, Miss Abbott, I, too, am armed.”
Of course, he was. Armed or not, I knew full well that Mr. Sheridan was perfectly capable of taking care of himself; still, I could not help but worry for his safety. As I walked with him from the drawing room into the corridor, I noted the others were still engaged in their frivolity; even Tilda appeared to be having a gay time, hopping and skipping through the steps of a contradanse. I was pleased to see her enjoying herself, though, at the moment, I did not share the girls’ lighthearted frame.
Once again, I prayed that I was not sending Mr. Sheridan off on a fool’s errand, or God forbid, straight into harm’s way. My fervent wish and prayer was that our Heavenly Father would go with him and keep him safe, now and forevermore.