Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 03] (25 page)

When her voice trailed away, Daintry looked at her in vexation and said, “I do wish you would speak plainly, Susan. What on earth are you trying to say?”

“Pay me no mind,” Susan said. “I don’t know why you must always behave as if you were the elder sister, Daintry. You make me forget your youth and inexperience. It’s nothing. I am upset, and I want Melissa to stay with me, that’s all.”

She moved to the washstand to bathe her face, and Daintry went to tell the two little girls what she could. When Charley assumed that she would accompany them to Warleggan Farm, Daintry said, “No, darling, that would not be wise. For a large group to descend upon poor Annie when she has not the least notion that anyone is going to visit her would be most impolite.”

“Pooh, Annie will not care if I am there, and Melissa will care very much if I am not. Won’t you, Melissa?”

Melissa turned her huge blue eyes toward Daintry. Tears sparkled on her lashes. Her lip trembled, but she said nothing.

Daintry sighed. “I suppose there will be room for you in the carriage if you do not mind being squeezed up with us on the forward seat so Aunt Susan and Aunt Ophelia can be comfortable.”

“In my opinion,” Charley said thoughtfully, “the carriage is not a good idea at all.”

“Then just how do you think we are going to transport your Aunt Susan to Warleggan Farm?”

Charley shot an oblique glance at Melissa, then said with seeming innocence, “I should think that a peaceful ride across the open moor would suit Aunt Susan much better than being rattled along in a carriage on the
public
road.”

Daintry drew breath to point out that Susan would certainly not wish to ride, but before she had said a word, she realized that Charley was afraid Seacourt would come after them on the road. If he did, he would catch them, even if he were not riding but driving his own rig. And Lady Ophelia could do more good by staying to deal with him at Tuscombe Park—if the chance arose for her to do so—than by going with them to Warleggan Farm.

So instead of snubbing Charley, she said quietly, “I will have to discuss that with Aunt Susan, darling, but perhaps you are right. I’ll leave you now, and trust that you will not leave the house. Have your supper, and get a good night’s rest.”

The evening would be the most dangerous time, she knew, for Geoffrey could arrive at any moment. As the hours passed, she grew more and more nervous, and could only imagine that Susan’s nerves were in a worse state than her own. Neither of them went down to dinner, knowing it was best not to remind St. Merryn of Susan’s presence in the house, and when Daintry remembered belatedly that she had been ordered to stay in her room, she had their dinner served to them there. Lady Ophelia assured them that she would send a warning up at once if Seacourt arrived.

Once the two young women were alone together, Daintry tried to maintain a cheerful conversation, as much to keep her own mind off the probability of Geoffrey’s arrival as to distract Susan. But her sister was singularly uncooperative, remaining silent, unusually so, until finally Daintry’s patience snapped.

“Look here, Susan, I know you are upset, but you have no cause to behave as if I have offended you. I have already apologized for what happened at Mount Edgcumbe, though in truth it was not my fault that Geoffrey behaved like such a beast.”

“No. It is not that,” Susan said. Glancing at her, she looked away again.

“Well, don’t stop there,” Daintry said. “If it is not that, what is it? You look exactly like Melissa looks when she has let Charley drag her into some mischief or other. What is it?”

“I don’t know why you should instantly assume I had done something wrong,” Susan said, still staring into the distance.

“I did not assume it,” Daintry said, but her thoughts had taken another tangent, and although she told herself the notion was an absurd one, she could not help saying,
“Was
there something between you and Deverill at Mount Edgcumbe?”

Susan shook her head, but still she would not look at her.

“But there must have been something, even something very small, to make someone think he was—”

“No, how many times must I say it? There was nothing!”

“Then who would write such stuff to you, and why?”

Susan flushed to the roots of her hair, and bit her lip. After a long moment, she whispered, “No one.”

“Well, someone did, and I for one would—” She broke off, staring, as the meaning of Susan’s words grew clear in her mind. “You wrote them yourself.” She saw the truth in Susan’s expression and, outraged, demanded, “Why? What possible reason could you have to blacken Deverill’s reputation, or your own?”

“You mustn’t tell,” Susan said as tears spilled down her cheeks again. “Oh, please don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone.”

Reining in her temper, Daintry said calmly, “Why, Susan?”

“I saw how Geoffrey backed down, and I thought …”

“Backed down? What do you mean?”

“After he fell, when he was going to beat that poor horse, Deverill just stepped in front of him, and he put down the whip. I hoped, if he thought Deverill had an interest … Oh, I see how stupid I was. I never spared a thought for Deverill or for anything but making Geoffrey afraid to hurt me again. Instead, it just made him furious, and … and I knew the second letter was coming, because I’d given it to a housemaid to post after we left, and … Y-you see the r-result.” She burst into tears.

Daintry did what she could to comfort her, assuring her that she would tell no one and that Deverill could take care of himself. At last Susan stopped crying and agreed to go to bed.

She said, “I’ll sleep here with you. Geoffrey will look for me in my old room, but he will not come in here.”

But to their surprise, morning came without a sign of him.

Rising early and partaking of no more breakfast than the rolls and chocolate Nance brought to them, Daintry and Susan donned habits, packed a few necessary items in a pair of bandboxes, collected the little girls, and went to the stables, where Clemons soon had horses saddled and ready for them.

The groom had looked surprised to see Susan heavily veiled, and Daintry realized that his company might prove awkward, so she said firmly, “You need not come with us today, Clemons. Lady Susan and I will look after the girls.”

“His lordship don’t like it much when you go out on your own, my lady,” the groom reminded her.

“Then do not tell him,” she said. She thought of saying that they did not mean to go far, but realized that would only stir his curiosity more, since he had just finished tying two bandboxes to her saddle. Instead, she said nothing, giving him a look that warned him not to pursue the matter.

Despite the fact that both Charley and Daintry had done their best to get their charges out at a very early hour, it was nearly nine o’clock by the time they were ready to mount their horses. Charley, dancing with impatience, kept looking across the stable yard, as if by doing so she could see through the house to the front drive.

Susan, adjusting skirt and whip to her satisfaction once she was seated, noted her niece’s anxiety and said sharply, “Calm yourself, Charlotte. You are making a spectacle of yourself.”

Daintry bit back the sharp words that rose to her tongue, knowing she would not help matters by pointing out that concern for Susan’s safety was making Charley nervous. It was plain to see that Susan cared even more for maintaining an appearance of propriety than for the need to get away before Seacourt arrived.

They rode out of the stable yard at last, avoiding the main road as much as possible, but while it was easy to ride in the shadow of the hedges while they were near the house, once they turned toward the moor and the ground began to rise, Daintry knew the danger of their being seen was greatly increased.

Charley, too, was aware of the danger, for she kept glancing over her shoulder, and it was she who cried, “There he is! He is driving up to the front gates now. Oh, I think he has seen us, for he checked just then, and there is no other cause to do so!”

Daintry looked the moment she cried out and, seeing the curricle, knew at once that Geoffrey must have seen them, too. He seemed to experience momentary indecision but then drove right past the front entrance to the stable yard. It would be no time at all before a horse could be saddled for him to follow them.

Susan reined in her horse. “We had better go back, I suppose,” she said dismally.

“Don’t be absurd,” Daintry snapped. “He can’t catch us in an instant, and if we can be away across the moor before he gets to the top of the road, you can be safe and sound at Warleggan Farm before he has the least idea which way we have gone.”

“But he’ll see us on the moor. There is no place to hide!”

“We need only get beyond the first rise,” Daintry said calmly. “There are granite tors and plenty of scrub. The land is not flat, for heaven’s sake, so collect yourself, Susan, and ride.” Urging her horse to a lope, not daring to go any faster uphill for fear the animals would be blown, she cried, “Come on!”

Susan turned to look back again, then followed. At the top of the rise, Charley looked back, and called out, “He’s got a horse, Aunt Daintry. It’s Grandpapa’s hunter, Celtic Prince.”

Prince was the fastest horse in their stable and so powerful that Daintry feared even the steep rise near the top of the road would not slow him. She could not see Susan’s expression because of the heavy veil, but she could tell she was tired, and she knew that the pace they had set must have been painful for her.

Charley rode up beside them. “There’s plenty of scrub here, Aunt Daintry. I’m going to stay behind for a bit. I know the way, so I can catch up with you. You know I can.”

They were off the road now, but they would not be out of sight of anyone coming over the rise until they had got beyond the next hill. Then there would be any number of directions they might have taken, and Daintry was certain that Geoffrey, with his low opinion of women’s capabilities in the saddle, would assume they had followed the road—at least until he had gone far enough to be sure they had not. But he would only do that if he saw no sign of them when he reached the top of the hill.

The thought of leaving Charley behind was worrisome, but the little girl looked perfectly sure of herself.

“He will see you riding away.”

“No, he won’t. I can slow him down, Aunt Daintry, until he dismounts to see if something is wrong with Prince. He will not dare ride farther until he looks, for Prince is Grandpapa’s favorite horse. I was afraid he would bring one of the grooms with him, but since he has come alone … Let me. Please!”

Susan had ridden ahead but looked back now and cried, “Don’t slow down! We must hurry.” There was panic in her voice now.

Daintry made her decision at once, telling herself that even if something went wrong, Geoffrey would not dare to harm Charley. Nodding at the child, she gave spur to her horse, urging Melissa and Susan to ride as they had never ridden before, and hoping Susan would be too concerned for her own safety to notice that Charley was no longer with them.

Moments later, over the low thunder of the horses’ hooves, she heard in the distance a familiar whistle. Kicking Cloud hard when he tried to slow, and praying Charley’s plan would work, she shouted at the others to use their whips, but not till the ground beneath them began to slope downward and Charley’s faint whistles were lost in the distance did she dare to breathe normally again.

Charley, grinning, caught up with them at the entrance to the farm twenty minutes later. “Had to do it three times,” she said, chuckling. “Poor Prince’s sides must be smarting, and Uncle Geoffrey probably believes there are banshees hiding in the heather, but it worked.”

“What are you talking about, Charlotte?” Susan demanded.

Charley winked at Melissa. “Why, nothing, Aunt Susan, nothing at all.”

D
AINTRY AND CHARLEY DID
not linger at Warleggan Farm once they were assured that Susan and Melissa were welcome to stay and that Feok Warleggan was not there to object.

“Gone to Truro,” Annie explained, “with a herd of sheep for slaughtering, and won’t be back for two days. Dewy’s not here either. Gone off on some business of his own, but it’s no manner of use thinking I can tell him or Feok that Lady Susan prefers a small room abovestairs in a farmhouse to the comforts of Seacourt Head,” she added bluntly, “and they are no more likely than any other men to want to help a female defy her lawful husband.”

“Less than some,” Granny Popple added tartly.

“Never you mind,” Charley had said cheerfully. “We shall think of a much better plan before Feok gets back.”

Daintry wished she shared Charley’s optimism. Riding back across the moor, she found herself scanning the horizon, hoping to see the figure of a centaurlike horseman, but aside from the occasional twitter of a meadow pipit, the flock of migratory lapwings Charley startled into flight, and a column of smoke in the distance where someone was burning heather to stimulate new growth, the moor appeared uninhabited that morning.

Charley chattered all the way, telling Daintry in detail just how she had hidden behind a small tor at the top of the road and whistled to make Prince slow to a halt, not once but three times, until Seacourt had dismounted to examine the horse’s hooves. “Then I ran and got back on Victor—for I had got down and crept closer so that I could see Uncle Geoffrey to whistle, you know—and then we just galloped off like lightning was after us. I stopped again behind another big pile of rocks to be sure Uncle Geoffrey stayed on the road. He did.”

Daintry was afraid they would see him all too soon, but they reached Tuscombe Park without encountering him, and she sent Charley at once to Miss Parish, warning her that if her mama or papa were to ask where she had been, she must be truthful without revealing their precise destination.

“They won’t ask,” Charley said with a sigh. “I’ve scarcely laid eyes on them since you all returned from Mount Edgcumbe, and they are getting ready now, if you can call it that, to go to Cothele. They were shouting at each other the last I saw. Would they pay me more heed if I were a boy, Aunt Daintry?”