| |
SOME HOURS LATER MARISA sat curled up on the window seat in her room. Her anger had led inevitably to tears, but now even those were spent, and she was dry-eyed, her chin resting on her drawn-up knees, as she watched the busy carriage and foot traffic below in Berkeley Square.
Will had done exactly what she’d long wanted him to do—he’d offered marriage. Except he hadn’t spoken to her first but to her stepfather, as if arranging to buy a horse or a piece of property, instead of asking permission to marry his daughter.
What did Will think he was about? Why had he proposed anyway, for surely his were not the actions of a man in love? He’d never once told her he cared for her in that way, wished to be with her, could not bear to be parted from her.
“Miss!” Gertie said, interrupting her thoughts. “Sir Gerald wants ye to come to the drawin’ room at once, miss. Young Mr. Wycliffe is ’ere and says ’e ’as to speak wi’ ye.”
“Please tell Mr. Wycliffe that I’m asleep. No, wait...please tell him that I’m simply not at home to him.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, miss.” Gertie wrung her hands in agitation. “Sir Gerald wants ye, too, and ’e asked in that strong way of ’is, you know, that ye come down. I think ye’d better, miss.”
“Very well.” Marisa squared her shoulders. “I suppose I have to see him sooner or later. It might as well be now.” Before descending to the drawing room, she stopped at the mirror to check the arrangement of her curls and to pinch her cheeks to draw up a bit of colour. It would not do to face Will and her parents looking as distressed as she felt.
She stepped into the drawing room to find her mother, stepfather, and Will in close conversation, talking quietly. Will immediately rose to his feet, and Sir Gerald followed, though more slowly.
“Come in, my dear. Young Wycliffe here has something he would like to ask you.”
Marisa advanced into the room. The atmosphere was strained, but there was something else in the air, a tension that spoke of more than just the problems between them. She sat next to her mother, who patted her hand in reassurance. Will took his seat again and spoke at once.
“Marisa, we think Lyvia has gone missing. I came to see if you might have any idea where she could be,” he said.
“Missing?” Her stomach lurched with fear, and she forgot the awkwardness between them. “Are you sure?”
“She left home at ten this morning, telling my mother that the two of you were going shopping. So, when I...came to speak to Sir Gerald earlier...and Dudley said you’d gone riding, I thought it odd. When I returned home and told Mother about it, she became terribly upset and insisted we go out in search of my sister. We went round to her favourite modistes and bonnet-makers, but she hasn’t been in to see any of them today. We’ve exhausted every possibility, and I came here as a last hope that you would have some idea of any place we might look next before calling out the Runners.”
Marisa hesitated. What Lyvia had told her about her elopement plans had been in confidence. She also didn’t want to alarm Will and his parents, but her best friend could be in real danger.
“I don’t know for certain where she is, no. The only thing I might suggest is that you speak with Lieutenant Farrington’s cousin, Lady Sarah Tildesdale. He is staying with her, and should you find him gone, as well...then, I would assume he and Lyvia have run away together.”
“Run away?” Lady Craethorne gasped. “That is too scandalous! Lyvia would never do such a thing, would never harm her reputation in such a way.”
“I’m afraid she might, Mama. She first mentioned Gretna Green over a week ago and of course I told her it was not an acceptable notion. I truly believed I convinced her. I also assumed that Lieutenant Farrington would never agree to the idea. Now, I’m terribly afraid I may have been wrong.”
“I must go, then, at once and try to overtake them,” Will said, his face grim. “Of all the stupid things for her to do...Lady Craethorne, Sir Gerald...Marisa...I thank you for your help. We’ll inform you of anything we discover, of course.” With that, he stood to take his leave just as Dudley entered and presented him with a note.
“This was just delivered, sir.”
“It’s from my father.” Will opened it and scanned the contents. “He says a letter from Lyvia has been discovered hidden in her bedcovers, saying that she has indeed gone off with Farrington, but we should not worry. Foolish girl! How would we not worry? If this weren’t such a serious matter, that would be laughable. Father wants me home at once as he intends to go dead out after them.”
“Oh, Will, pray, take care.” Marisa laid one hand on his arm. “But do find them.”
He looked down into her eyes and covered her fingers with his, giving her a brief, reassuring smile. “We shall do our best. Sir Gerald, goodbye again, sir. I may rely on your discretion to explain our absence at Lord Banfield’s this evening? Thank you.”
With that he was gone, leaving the Craethorne family to stare in disbelief at one another before going upstairs to prepare for the evening’s entertainment.
* * * *
WILL LEFT THE CRAETHORNE’S and went to Lady Sarah’s home in search of Farrington. She confirmed that her cousin had asked to borrow her travelling coach to journey north for a few days. She granted the request but assured Will she never would have done so had she had any inkling of his true purpose. She described the details of the carriage and confirmed that Richard left mid-morning, but they should have no trouble catching up to them that evening as her driver was an older man and cautious with the horses to a fault.
Will rode Neptune, and his father took his fastest mount as they headed out the Great North Road toward Scotland in pursuit of Lyvia and her lieutenant, hoping that the runaways travelled the most direct route. They didn’t stop to make enquiries at inns along the way but slowed as they passed each one, searching for any sign of Lady’s Sarah’s distinctive grey-and-black coach in the yard.
Several hours after leaving London, they spied it in front of the Friendly Hands Inn on the road just out of Cheshunt. There they dismounted, confident of finding the wayward pair inside the establishment. They handed their horses over to the groom to be cared for and had just reached the heavy oaken door when it opened from within, bringing them face to face with Farrington.
“Is my daughter here with you, Lieutenant?” Charles Wycliffe demanded without preamble.
Farrington took a step backward. “She is, sir, safe and sound. My cousin’s carriage, as you can see, sits in the yard, being repaired of a broken wheel.” He glanced from Mr. Wycliffe to Will and back again, then swallowed hard. “I assure you, sir, as soon as it was fixed, I intended to turn about, and bring Lyvia home.”
“Do not promise anything to me, young man,” Mr. Wycliffe barked. “And please don’t stand in the doorway any longer, for you are a great obstacle in the way.”
Farrington stepped aside to allow a portly lady and gentleman to puff past them. He was then shepherded into the inn by Mr. Wycliffe, who gave every indication of brooking no interference. Now that Lyvia had been discovered safe, Will was prepared to forget his own troubles for the moment and enjoy the scene that was to follow. His father’s and sister’s meeting should make for an entertaining show.
Indeed it was, for Lyvia came out of a private room at the end of the corridor at just that instant, saw her father and brother with her contrite, red-faced suitor, turned, and slammed the door against them. They heard the bolt slide into place just as the innkeeper, a bewildered-looking older man, appeared in the hall.
He heard the whole story with frequent nods of his bald-pated head but regretted he could offer no help in the matter. The door, when bolted from the inside, could not be opened. The only other way in was by the outside windows, through some very thick and thorny bushes if the young lady could not be persuaded to open the door.
It soon proved to be a difficult task. Mr. Wycliffe pounded, stormed, and cajoled. He did everything, in fact, short of threaten, and still Lyvia remained steadfastly on the other side, saying she wouldn’t come out as long as they were there and that she would not be bullied and told what to do any longer.
“I’ve often thought Lyvia would have been the better for a stay in the army.” Will leaned against a nearby staircase railing. “At least she would’ve learned how to take orders.”
“Helpful suggestions would be welcome, William,” his father said. “Sarcasm does not serve. What do you propose we try next?”
“May I speak with you a moment, Father?” The two walked away from the door, leaving a confused Farrington to stand uncertainly and fidget. They conferred for a moment in whispers then returned.
“Lyvia,” Mr. Wycliffe called out. “Come now, my girl, I know you can hear me.”
“Yes, I hear you, Papa, but I won’t come out. You might forbid me to ever see Richard again, and I would positively die.”
“You’re being overly dramatic again, Liv,” Will said, entering into the conversation through the wooden door for the first time. “Father does not intend to forbid you to see the lieutenant at all. But what you’ve done is foolish in the extreme, and we must take you back to town at once or your reputation will be ruined. Surely you can understand that?”
“Marisa told me the same thing, and I’m beginning to think I should have believed her,” Lyvia replied after a moment’s silence.
Will stiffened. “Yes, she was right, as usual,” he said. “Now, please open this door so that we may come in and talk this over like civilised adults.”
There was another moment of consideration, and then the bolt slid aside and the door opened a crack. Lyvia peered from within, and seeing that her father did not look in a murderous rage, she opened the door wide and retreated to comparative safety behind a chair next to the fireplace. The gentlemen filed in and closed the door behind them.
The parlour was spacious and well furnished, a large table taking up much of the room while several overstuffed chairs sat near the hearth. To his credit, Farrington had engaged the best room in the inn where Lyvia could be comfortable while the carriage wheel was repaired.
“Pray don’t scold, Papa,” Lyvia pleaded, wringing her hands. “I know I’ve worried you terribly, and I do apologize, but I’m quite unharmed. You must see how I feel, how certain I was and still am that this is the only way Richard and I will ever be together.”
“Lyvia,” Farrington said, his voice shaky. “I don’t believe your father is at all impressed by our motives in this. He can only be thinking of your safety and your reputation, as I should have been.”
“As you were. You tried to talk me into going back. In fact,” she added, in a peevish tone, “I’ve never been spoken to in such a manner as you spoke to me just a few moments before my father and brother arrived. I don’t know if I even wish to marry you now—Oh, what am I saying? Of course I want to marry you!” She stamped her small, slippered foot and plopped down in one of the chairs by the fire. “I vow I don’t know what I want any longer.”
“Enough,” Mr. Wycliffe ordered. “Lyvia, you’ll return with us at once and with a bit of help from the Almighty, no one will be the wiser of your absence and your reputation may be saved. As for you, young man, how you came to be convinced of this scheme of my daughter’s, I’ll never know. I thought you’d have had better sense, being a military man and all.”
“Perhaps,” Will spoke up, “the lieutenant was too caught up in the emotion of the moment to think clearly. Might I suggest that you reconsider, Father?”
“Reconsider?” Lyvia frowned. “Reconsider what?”
“Why, having Farrington here arrested for kidnapping, of course,” Will said. “Finding you here with him, we would be able to make an excellent case, I’m sure.”
“Arrested!” Lyvia’s eyes widened with fright. “But...but you just said it was my scheme in the first place. You...you cannot do that!”
“Never, do you understand, tell me what I may or may not do,” Mr. Wycliffe replied calmly. “But, yes, I will reconsider, William, if merely for the young man’s sake. He is perhaps foolish, but I doubt whether he meant any harm to come to our girl. All right then, let’s discuss this further on the way back to town. Is the repair to your cousin’s coach almost complete?”
The lieutenant swallowed convulsively. “I think so, sir.”
“Very well. Lady Sarah gave us permission to retrieve it when we found you and return in it to London. I believe there is room for the four of us in the carriage, unless you would like to walk home, Farrington?”
“No, sir. That is, I wouldn’t wish to.”
“Fine. Let’s go, then.” Charles Wycliffe ushered the young couple ahead of him. They waited for Farrington to pay the innkeeper for the repair of the wheel and the use of the private room, and soon the carriage was headed south again at a slow, steady pace, with Neptune and Mr. Wycliffe’s horse tethered to the back.