Chapter 40
The cause of all this pandemonium—Polly’s abduction by Lord Benjamin—had taken place only minutes earlier. Georgiana had just left her, and she’d had been scanning the crowds around the bonfire for Dominic, when Lord Benjamin suddenly blocked her view. “Good evening. Miss Peach,” he murmured in as civil and agreeable a tone as could be imagined.
Her heart tightened in dismay. “Lord Benjamin!”
“I trust your letter still holds good, and you wish to warm the atmosphere between us?”
She stared at him, her courage suddenly almost deserting her now that the moment had arrived. Her eyes flew for reassurance to where Dominic had been a moment before, but he’d gone! She glanced back to Lord Benjamin, and incongruously she thought how ridiculous he looked, squeezed so tightly into his costume that his face would have been red and sweating even without the bonfire’s assistance.
He had no coat!
“Miss Peach?” he prompted, giving her a sleek smile.
“Forgive me, Lord Benjamin, I... I’ve been anticipating this moment so much that now it’s here, I’m all at sixes and sevens.” Did she sound convincing? Oh, how she prayed so! What was she going to do now? Because of his costume, their plan had fallen at the first fence.
He smiled. “I fear we have been unnecessarily at odds in the past, but all should be well from now on. It would please me immeasurably if you and I were to be true friends. Miss Peach, er, Polly ...”
“It would please me too. Lord Benjamin. I... I mean Benjamin.”
At that moment Bodkin’s whistle rang out as he set the bees on Georgiana, and Polly turned, distracted, but Lord Benjamin took her hand. “It’s disagreeably warm here. Shall we walk where it’s cooler?”
And darker, she thought with alarm, and quickly endeavored to divert him. “Oh, look, something’s happening,” she said as the first onlookers spotted Bodkin’s bees.
He wasn’t to be put off. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he murmured, drawing her hand firmly over his sleeve.
Polly was in too much of a quandary to think of any reasonable way to resist. Nutmeg’s fate remained uppermost in her thoughts, but everything felt as if it were going horribly wrong. Where was Dominic? He must be somewhere nearby, because he’d promised, and so had Bodkin and Ragwort. Yes, they were all keeping watch. She overcame her alarm and accompanied Lord Benjamin away from the bonfire, toward the canal, which lay hidden in its cut at the top of the garden. Suddenly she remembered Hordwell. “Where is my uncle?” she asked “I haven’t seen him tonight, and—”
“I fear he felt indisposed, and decided not to come after all,” Lord Benjamin interrupted smoothly.
An icy finger of renewed disquiet passed down Polly’s spine. Something was definitely wrong! Tonight of all nights, her uncle would have sent a message if he was unable to come. Her steps faltered, but Lord Benjamin walked calmly on, and his hand rested so strongly over hers that she had to go with him. Should she scream? But even as she thought of it, a cacophony of shrieks broke out behind, caused by the appearance of Bodkin’s jack-o’-lantern, although Polly could not know that. To add her screams to such a racket would be futile.
What was happening? Where was Dominic?
Lord Benjamin didn’t care what was happening behind them; he was concerned only with getting Polly to the canal, and thence to the carriage waiting at Bathampton. Georgiana must be succeeding in diverting Fortune, he thought, quickening his steps just a little. He spoke cordially to Polly, as if the atmosphere between them was lighthearted and carefree, although he knew it wasn’t. “I think you and I could do very well together, Polly. Granted we’ve known only friction until now, but deep inside I think we are very well suited. Don’t you agree?” His gaze was fixed ahead, where the canal bridges, decorated with small green jack-o’-lanterns, had now appeared through the darkness.
“I... I cannot really say,” she replied, frantically glancing behind again.
“Cannot say?” He affected to be a little offended.
She stumbled over a suitable reply. “Well, one cannot know such a thing until one is married.”
He kept walking. “I find your frankness most refreshing,” he murmured, steering her to the westernmost of the bridges. The pleasure boat he had secured was waiting beneath it at the foot of stone steps that were set against the retaining wall. In a few short minutes now, dear Miss Peach—and her fortune—would be on their way to Gretna Green.
As they reached the top of the steps, Polly’s increasing fear at last spilled over, and suddenly she pulled away from him. “I... I want to go back,” she said.
The time for false smiles was over. He seized her arm and propelled her down the steps to the narrow towpath. She screamed and struggled, and he cursed as he clamped a hand over her mouth. Her spangled witch’s hat fell as she tried to beat him off with her fists, but he was far too strong. In a blur she saw how the jack-o’-lanterns on the bridges cast a baleful green light over the waiting pleasure boat, with its single lantern at the stem. The muslin draped over its canopy resembled a shroud, and the black wooden witch silhouetted at the prow seemed about to take come to life as the boat rocked gently at its mooring.
Lord Benjamin hauled his prize across the towpath, then into the boat, which swayed alarmingly as Polly fought every inch like a wild cat. He forced her beneath the canopy, where a handkerchief and a coil of rope lay on the seat. After forcing the former into her mouth to silence her. Lord Benjamin made short work of binding her hand and foot so she could only lie helplessly in the bottom of the boat. Then he stepped out from the canopy again, carefully pulled the muslin over so she couldn’t be seen, and undid the mooring rope. Seizing one of the oars, he shoved it against the bank.
At that moment Dominic appeared at the top of the steps. “Stop, Beddem, or so help me I’ll kill you!” he cried, producing a pistol from inside his coat.
Lord Benjamin’s lips parted in dismay as he feared the game was up, but then he reasoned that Dominic wouldn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Polly, so he didn’t even acknowledge the challenge as he began to row strongly in the direction of Bathampton. The canal passed out of the gardens in only a few yards, and he would get away! Dominic scrambled down the bank and began to take off his boots as quickly as he could, the better to swim, but help was already at hand in the form of Bodkin and his magic jack-o’-lantern.
The brownie ran breathlessly onto the bridge, untied the pumpkin, and threw it at the departing pleasure boat. As always, his aim was perfect, and the jack-o’-lantern hit Lord Benjamin on the head, before rolling overboard into the water, where by good fortune it landed upright. Still intact, with its candles miraculously alight, it bobbed up and down, its leering face seeming eminently well pleased as Lord Benjamin slumped senseless over the oars. Wavelets rippled across the canal, obligingly carrying the drifting pleasure boat toward Dominic, who was soon able to pull it to the bank. He immediately stepped aboard to gather Polly in his arms and take her to safety. Laying her gently on the towpath, where Bodkin’s brownie friends crowded around, he removed the handkerchief from her mouth, then untied her.
“Forgive me, my darling,” he whispered as she sat up. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d—”
She caught his hands, kissed them both, and smiled up at him. “I know you wouldn’t have willingly left me, and you’ve saved me now, so nothing else matters. I love you, Dominic,” she whispered.
“As I love you,” he breathed, sinking his fingers into the warmth of her hair and pulling her lips up to meet his.
The watching brownies, sentimental souls one and all, gave unanimous sighs, for if there was one thing brownies adored, it was romance.
Lord Benjamin began to groan as he came around, and Dominic quickly took the rope and jumped lightly back onto the boat to bind Polly’s vile abductor. Bodkin ran from the bridge to jump in the boat with his pole, which he stretched out to guide the pumpkin toward him. Then he lifted it out of the water and carried it triumphantly ashore to the cheers of his friends. Above their cheers there was the buzzing of the bees as they waited to see what Bodkin required of them.
Ragwort mustered the brownies. “Bring Lord Benjamin ashore,” he ordered, and as one they scrambled into the boat. On the count of three, they managed to haul Lord Benjamin onto the towpath, where they pinned him down by sitting and standing on his outstretched arms and legs. He was terrified, for although he couldn’t see his assailants, he knew they were brownies, and that they would show no mercy to someone who’d planned such a terrible fate for one of their number.
Then Bodkin stood over him, a foot on his chest, and made himself visible. “Where’s Nutmeg’s belt?” he demanded.
Lord Benjamin stared up at him, for this was the first time he’d actually seen a brownie. Lord Benjamin’s tongue passed dryly over his lower lip, and he swallowed, too frightened to speak.
Bodkin jumped up and down on him. “Where’s her belt?” he cried furiously, his tail beginning to lash. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll set my bees on you!” The mood of the other brownies turned to anger as well, and some of them urged him to let the bees do their worst regardless. The swarm buzzed threateningly and descended a little closer, so Lord Benjamin could see them against the starlit sky.
Dominic had drawn Polly gently to her feet, then turned as Caraway tugged his coat, and held up Polly’s witch’s hat, which she’d rescued intact from the foot of the steps. He thanked the brownie and smiled at Polly as he placed the glittering hat tenderly on her head. Then he glanced down at Lord Benjamin. “You’d be wise to divulge the belt’s whereabouts, Beddem.”
As Lord Benjamin’s full lips pressed defiantly together. Bodkin pointed up at the eager bees. “Tell me, or it will be the worst for you,” he warned, then gave a brief whistle. A solitary bee flew down and perched on the end of his lordship’s nose. Lord Benjamin’s eyes almost crossed as he tried to focus on it. Perspiration ran down his forehead, and he began to tremble from head to toe. Like the jelly at the review, Polly thought.
Bodkin gave him one last chance. “Tell me what I want to know, Beddem.”
The bee buzzed on Lord Benjamin’s nose and wriggled its abdomen to show how ready it was to sting. Lord Benjamin capitulated. “The belt is inside my costume!” he cried. “Now get this bee off me!”
Bodkin grinned, whistled again, and the bee flew back to join the rest of the swarm. Bodkin then gave a longer whistle, and with a loud parting buzz, they flew away into the night. By dawn they would be home in their hives at Horditall.
The brownies set about divesting Lord Benjamin of his costume. They ripped the seams, showing no consideration at all as they pulled and tugged. In moments it lay in red tatters on the towpath, and the second son of the Duke of Lawless was left in only his unmentionables. With a triumphant whoop, Bodkin held up the precious belt. Nutmeg would soon be safe in his arms again! He danced a jig on the towpath, so happy that he couldn’t speak.
His joy was temporarily halted by Polly’s anxiety as she looked down at Lord Benjamin. “Where is my uncle?” she demanded.
“I caught him searching my room, so I tied him up and left him on my bed.”
“He’s an old man ... if you’ve hurt him—”
“You only have to untie him.”
Polly breathed out with relief, and Dominic took her hand, squeezing it gently.
Ragwort nodded at the other brownies, and they bundled Lord Benjamin back into the boat and pushed it out onto the water. Bound with his own rope, he could only lie there. He knew it was unlikely that he’d be found before daylight, and he could only hope the rest of the night wouldn’t get too cold. His plans were in as many tatters as his costume, and both prospective fortunes had slipped through his podgy fingers. The duns would get him now, and before long he’d be languishing in jail. He gave a huge, resigned sigh. Plague take all brownies. And Polly Peach!
On the towpath, he was already forgotten. Bodkin recovered his voice. “Come on, let’s free Nutmeg!” he yelled, and rushed up the steps, followed by all the others.
Polly and Dominic remained on the towpath, except for the jack-o’-lantern, of course. Its candlelight swayed gently, casting a soft glow to everything as Dominic pulled Polly close to kiss her forehead. Then he gazed into her eyes. “I know you say it doesn’t matter now, but my conscience is still great. I shouldn’t have left you, no matter how urgent Caraway told me it was.”
“Dominic—”
“I might have lost you tonight!” he broke in, closing his eyes with emotion. “I could not have lived with myself if any harm had befallen you because of my idiocy.”
“If you insist on blaming yourself for your part, then I must take even more of the blame for being so foolish as to let him bring me here. All’s well now, and that’s what really matters.” Suddenly she thought of the celebrations. “Let’s see what’s happening,” she said, and gathered her skirts to hasten up the steps.
Dominic followed, and together they hurried toward the temple, from where they could see everything in the gardens. The fireworks were over, and the bonfire had begun to collapse now, but the flames still leaped high. The crowd—what was left of it, for most had fled for home, hotel, inn, or lodging—was now gathered quietly in the light of the bonfire. The carefully prepared supper had barely been touched, but the punch bowls were nearly empty as rattled nerves were steadied, then steadied again. The trees and shrubs still twinkled with little jack-o’-lanterns, and the hotel orchestra had found the spirit to play again. Sweet notes drifted through the night, like a soothing lullaby.
Dominic gave a low laugh. “I think this Halloween will go down in history as the night Bath picked up its genteel petticoats and had the vapors,” he murmured.
“Such awful mayhem, and all because of Bodkin,” Polly said.
He nodded. “Yes. I sincerely hope he finds Nutmeg now that he has the belt, for I don’t think my fragile constitution is up to any more of this.”
“Nor mine.”
Dominic watched the gardens again, and pointed suddenly. “Look, there’s Harry. Who’s he putting a blanket around? Why, I believe it’s Georgiana!”