Elizabeth Mansfield (20 page)

"I can tell you that... in part, at least. I should have told you before. Percy had abducted Deirdre, and Kate went after them."

It took several minutes for Isabel to get a full explanation. By the time she understood all the circumstances, she was quite pale, and Madge was abrim with tears. "I shall have to tell Charles," she wept, "and he'll go to find them, and who knows what will happen then. And Deirdre will have been out all night with that bounder, and if she's not to be considered damaged goods on the marriage mart, she'll have to wed him!"

"You once thought Percy was good enough for my Kate," Isabel pointed out with asperity.

"Yes, but that was before I knew what a cad he was."

"He's not really a cad," Isabel said, trying to be fair. "Merely impulsive."

"Huh!" Madge sneered. "I would not call abducting an innocent young girl an impulse. I'd call it a heinous crime!"

The words had scarcely left her lips when they heard a noise down below. They ran out to the corridor to discover Kate leading a wilting Deirdre up the stairs. "Oh, heavens," Madge cried, swooping down on them, "what has happened to my darling child?"

Deirdre lifted her head and favored her mother with a glowing smile. "It's wonderful, Mama! Everything's wonderful."

"She's only sleepy," Kate explained. "Percy gave her a dose of laudanum. She'll be fine by tonight."

Madge took her daughter in her arms. "Come, my love, come. I'll put you to bed. You can tell us everything when you wake."

Charles, awakened by the commotion, came waddling out of the bedroom. "What's going on?" he asked loudly, the ball at the tail of his nightcap bouncing against his nose, "What kept you out till this ungodly hour?"

"Harry saved me," Deirdre said, beaming sleepily at everyone. "Saved me in the nick of time. We're betrothed. And everything's wonderful."

"Go back to bed, Charles," Madge said. "I'll explain later. Let me get this poor child to bed."

He opened his mouth to object, but a warning signal from Isabel made him restrain himself. With a grunt, he turned on his heel and returned to the bedroom.

"If you'll excuse me," Kate said wanly, "I'll go to bed, too."

Isabel, with brows knit, watched her daughter walk away. Her motherly instincts told her that something was very wrong, but with both girls evidently safe and sound, she could not fathom what it was. As soon as she helped Madge get Deirdre into bed, she ran off to Kate's room.

Kate's bedroom was dark. The morning light, just beginning to filter in through the gaps in the draperies, did not yet give enough light for Isabel to see her daughter clearly. She could barely make out Kate's form, an unmoving shadow seated on the edge of the bed. Isabel came in and sat down beside her. Now, up close, she could see that Kate had made no attempt to undress. The girl was just sitting there staring at nothing. "What is it, my love?" she asked gently.

Kate blinked and tried to clear her head. "Everything's wonderful, didn't you hear Deirdre say so?" she asked in a weary voice.

"But you don't find it so?" Isabel asked.

"No, I don't."

Isabel put an arm about the girl's shoulders. "Can you not tell me what happened?"

"There's not much to tell. When Leonard and I found the inn where Percy had taken her, Harry had already discovered them. With an offer of marriage, he rescued dear little Deirdre from—what is it they call it in Mrs. Radcliffe's romances?—a fate worse than death."

The bitter irony in Kate's voice proved to Isabel what she'd already suspected—that Kate had fallen in love with Harry Gerard. In the still-dim light, she peered at her daughter's face—the pale cheeks, the clouded eyes, the tense little muscle that twitched just above her jaw. As mothers everywhere and forever are wont to do, she wished she could suffer her daughter's pain in her stead. But no one can take on another's pain. Sore at heart, she lifted her hand and smoothed back a strand of Kate's hair. "My poor darling," she murmured sadly, "does Harry's commitment to Deirdre hurt you so?"

Kate had held herself together through the long ride home, but her mother's sympathy caused her self-possession to crumble. With a low cry, she threw herself into her mother's arms. "Oh, Mama, how can I bear it?" she wept.

Isabel rocked the sobbing girl in her arms, her own tears flowing freely down her cheeks. When at last the sobs subsided, Isabel pulled out a large handkerchief from her bosom and wiped both their cheeks. "Perhaps we should cut this visit short," she suggested.

Kate lifted her head and twisted her tear-swollen lips into a sad smile. "Yes, please, Mama," she said gratefully. "Let's go home!"

THIRTY-FOUR

When she was sure that Kate had at last fallen asleep, Isabel went down to the sitting room, sat down at the writing table, and wrote a note to Sir Edward. It was, she had to admit, abruptly worded:
Please meet me at ten this morning at the corner where Brooke Street meets the Circus. I. R.
But she was in no mood for embellishments. She sent it off just as it was.

She was standing on the Brooke Street corner right on time. Although the winter weather of the night before had eased considerably and the sleet that had iced the streets was rapidly melting, it was quite chilly. She hoped Edward would not keep her waiting, but at that very moment she saw him approaching. Although her present mood was not a happy one, the sight of him made her smile. "You're wearing trousers!" she exclaimed as soon as he'd made his bow.

"A small price to pay to win your forgiveness, ma'am," he said, taking her arm.

"Oh, bosh," she said scornfully as they proceeded to stroll round the Circus, "I've told you I have nothing to forgive. You called me fat, but it was nothing but the truth."

He stopped in his tracks and dropped her arm. "I did not call you fat!" he declared, reddening angrily. "I never said such a thing, and I don't want ever again to hear you accuse me of it."

"My word, Edward, you needn't have an attack of apoplexy over it," Isabel said in amusement.

"I'll have apoplexy if I wish! The truth is, ma'am, I find you to be quite the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance. There! I've said it! Let that be an end of it."

"And very well said, too, my dear," Isabel replied, "but you needn't shout it to the world."

"Sorry," Edward said meekly, his high color receding.

Isabel took back his arm and tucked it under hers, and they proceeded down the street. "I'm glad you said those lovely words, Edward," she admitted, "although I know quite well they were nothing but butter sauce."

"They weren't butter sauce. It's how I see you." He threw her a quick, shy glance. "How a man sees a woman... there's a great deal of significance in that, you know."

"Yes, I know." She patted his arm. "But we mustn't go into that right now. I have something to tell you that you may not like."

"Oh?" He stopped walking and faced her bravely. "Well, spit it out."

"I'm leaving Bath. Kate wants to go home."

"When?"

"Today. This afternoon."

"You couldn't, I suppose, let her go without you."
 

"No. She needs me, I think."
 

"Blast!" he swore. "Just when things are going so well with us."
 

"Yes."

They resumed their stroll, but at a slower pace. "Of course, in a way, your news makes a similar decision easier for me," he admitted. "Leonard is packing at this moment. He's not at all happy. I've told him I intended to stay, but perhaps I should go home with him."

"Yes, you should." She sighed sadly, aware that she was feeling far from serene. "Being a parent requires sacrifices."

"Great sacrifices," he agreed glumly.

By this time, they'd completed the circle and arrived at their starting point. Isabel turned to him and offered her hand. "Then I suppose this is good-bye."

"It needn't be. Certainly not forever." He lifted her hand to his lips. "I shall see you again."

"I hope so."

"You may count on it," he declared firmly. "And in the meantime, if I should send you another gift, you'd better not send it back as you did before."

She smiled. "I won't. I promise."

Having nothing left to say, they made their bows and started off in different directions. After going just a couple of steps, however, Sir Edward suddenly stopped. "And if I should pay a visit," he called after her, "do you promise not to shut the door in my face?"

"I promise," she replied, grinning, "but only if you're wearing those lovely trousers."

* * *

When she returned to Queen's Square, Isabel discovered that Charles and Madge were entertaining an early visitor. "Come in to the drawing room," Madge greeted her, "and say hello to Lady Ainsworth. She just dropped by to express her congratulations on Deirdre and Harry's betrothal."

Isabel made her bow and mumbled her good wishes.

"It is good to see you again, Lady Rendell," the elderly woman said, rising from her chair with the help of her cane. "Unfortunately, I must take my leave. Lady Rendell, I wonder, since you're still dressed for the outdoors, if you'd be good enough to see me to my carriage."

"It shall be my pleasure," Isabel said, but she and Madge exchanged questioning glances. It was an unusual request. Isabel wondered, as she offered her arm, if the lady had a purpose in mind.

Lady Ainsworth did not say a word until the outer door closed behind them. Then she looked about to make sure they could not be overheard. "Lady Rendell, what I'm about to say is for your ears alone. May I count on your discretion?"

"Of course," Isabel said, surprised.

"It concerns your daughter. I am very fond of her." She threw Isabel a sharp glance. "And so is my grand-son.

"Yes?" Isabel said, carefully noncommittal.

"If Harry weds Deirdre, it will be disastrous for all concerned. I know this, and I suspect you know it, too."

Isabel shook her head. "Even if I agreed with you, your ladyship, I see no help for it."

"There may be help for it. The nuptials are still in the future. And one should never be sure of the future until it is past. One never knows what tricks fate may play.

Isabel eyed her suspiciously. "Your ladyship, are you suggesting that you have some scheme—?"

"Hush!" Lady Ainsworth put a finger to her lips, but her eyes twinkled. "I will only say that, one day soon, you and Kate will receive an invitation to Ainsworth Park. Kate will probably wish to refuse it. I want you to promise me that she will be there."

Isabel felt a ray of hope for the first time since Kate had wept in her arms. "My lady," she said, unable to resist giving the old woman a hug, "whatever your plans are, and whether or not you are successful, you have my everlasting gratitude."

"I don't want your gratitude," Lady Ainsworth retorted, trying to hide her pleasure in Isabel's display of warmth. "I want your promise that Kate will come with you."

Isabel planted a kiss on her cheek. "We'll be there if I have to drag her in chains."

While this exchange was taking place, Harry was knocking at the door of Sir Edward's lodgings. Hawkins opened the door but blocked Harry's way. "Sir Leonard is not seeing visitors today," he said.

"He'll see me," Harry said between clenched teeth, and he pushed Hawkins aside.

He found Leonard sitting on a large settee, dressed for travel except for his boots, one of which he was about to pull on. He looked up at Harry's entrance. "What the devil do
you
want?" he growled.

"What do you think?" Harry retorted. “To return the facer you so generously gave me."

Leonard eyed Harry's swollen eye and the heavily purpled cheek under it with a satisfied smirk. "It's a beauty, I must say."

"Then stand up, you make-bait, and let me return the compliment."

"Why should 1?" Leonard pulled on the boot and picked up the other. "It wasn't I who played
you
false."

"If you think I played you false, Leonard Tyndale, you're a greater gudgeon than you look!" Harry snapped. "I never entertained the slightest desire for your Deirdre, and you know it. And if I did, have I ever given you reason to suspect I'd pursue a girl you loved behind your back?"

"Perhaps not," Leonard granted, "but then, why did you go after her when Percy absconded with her. Why didn't you come to me?"

"Because I didn't go after Deirdre."

"What?" Leonard glared at him. "What sort of twaddle is this?"

Harry slumped down beside him on the settee. "I made a mistake," he said sheepishly. "I thought it was Kate."

Leonard couldn't understand. "Are you saying you thought Percy'd made off with Kate?"

"Yes. You see, I'd gone to call on Kate, and when the butler said she'd been abducted, I stupidly assumed—"

"Why would you assume that Percy would choose Kate? You knew he was wild for Deirdre, didn't you?"

"Yes, but he'd pursued Kate for years before that. All right, dash it all, I admit I was an ass."

Leonard groaned as the full significance of last night's fiasco slowly dawned on him. "Good God, Harry," he exclaimed, "are you saying you're in love with Kate?"

"I'm trying not to say it," Harry said drily. "After all, I'm a gentleman, am I not? A gentleman doesn't admit to loving one girl when he's betrothed to another."

"What a deuced muddle," Leonard muttered. "Yes, it is," Harry agreed.

They sat side-by-side in silence for a long while. Then Leonard said, "I'm sorry about the facer."

"I'll forgive you, old fellow," Harry said, putting out his hand, "if you'll say we're still friends."

Leonard shook it heartily. "I never thought we weren't."

"You don't say!" Harry fingered his bruised eye. "I never would have guessed."

They laughed, both relieved that last night's unpleasantness seemed to have been overcome. But Harry remained troubled.
Friends!
he thought ruefully.
How can we remain friends when I'm to be wed to the woman he loves?
That was the question they should be facing.