"Oh, thank you. You are so very kind. I hardly dared to ask you. It is a great imposition, I know."
"Nonsense. I am delighted to be of service to a lady in distress. We men dream of such opportunities, but they too seldom arise. In what way can I help? Do you want me to deliver it for you? No, you would hardly care to entrust anything so valuable to a total stranger."
"You are not a
total
stranger. A friend of the Raffertys, like myself."
"Only to Edward, and as to that, you are practically a stranger to the family yourself."
"I'm sure even a stranger to them must realize their
morals
are unquestionable."
"Very true. I wonder if morality must be so heavy a burden as they make it. But we digress. Let us think what to do about your necklace. I think the thing to do is for me to accompany you. I shall follow immediately behind your carriage in my curricle, and we shall arrange to stop at the same places for meals and so on. Of course your groom will have taken some precautions as well?"
"Yes, indeed. Papa gave him a pistol, which is under the box, and a footman is along too. It is not the open road I fear so much as the stops, when I must be separated from Gretch and Harrow. If we had a man to protect us during the stops, it would be very reassuring."
"Well, then, you have one," he said, smiling.
It was exactly what she had hoped for. He was alive to every sense of propriety, not trying to get her valuable property away from her, not putting himself forward in the least, but just being there, to help if necessary. His kind face took on a stronger coloring of amiability in her view.
"We must leave early," she suggested next. "Very early. I wonder at what hour it would be feasible to leave. Kiley mentioned seven. Do you think—would you mind terribly to be up at six, and leave as soon as we can? Rafferty will not try to detain us. I have the most sinking sensation we are not half welcome at Oakdene.''
"Is that what the place is called? We'll go any hour that suits you. I doubt Kiley will be up so early as six."
Vanessa had a strong feeling he would be, but could hardly suggest darting out of the house in the middle of the night. She remembered with considerable pleasure that Kiley had a cracked axle to contend with, which would delay his departure considerably.
"Tell me, or am I imagining things—did you call Kiley by some other name when he came in?" Carlisle asked.
"He uses various names and occupations. Colonel Landon is the name I know him by."
"A man who requires an alias must be a blackguard. How did you meet up with such a bounder?"
“That is a long story, Mr. Carlisle, and I am sure you must be as fagged as I am myself. I'll tell you tomorrow. We had best go now, before we are discovered by our hostess, who would put the most licentious construction on our visit. We colonels' daughters rate one rung lower than an actress, I believe, in her code."
"Prudes
do
tend to overestimate the world's wickedness, do they not?" he commented, arising and offering his hand to help her up.
"I don't know how to thank you."
"We shall strike on a reward when we discover how hard Mr. Kiley is to handle," he answered lightly. They blew out their light, to go in total darkness upstairs to their rooms. He left her at her door, then proceeded stealthily to his own room. Her heart was lighter as she turned the knob. A narrow shaft of faint light made her wonder whether she had left a candle burning behind her. She saw one on her dresser, and frowned at it, trying to remember, as she closed and bolted the door.
As she turned to face the bed, she emitted a faint shriek. There, holding her nightgown in his fingers, admiring the cascade of rippling lace, stood Mr. Kiley, wearing a bemused smile. "Very nice, Miss Bradford," he complimented, looking across the room at her.
"What are you doing here?"
"Hush! What will the Raffertys think of your behavior? Bad enough you had a tryst with Carlisle, without seducing an innocent government official into the bargain. I hope it was only a spot of romance that took you to the saloon?" he asked.
"Get out."
"I am very much disillusioned by your conduct, I can tell you," he went on calmly, leaning in a casual way against the bedpost. "Your papa
did
mention an inclination to flirt with the officers, but never suspected such unladylike goings-on as clandestine meetings. Don't blush, dear girl. You were unwittingly chaperoned the whole time, from behind the curtain, by that blackguard who requires a roster of aliases—me. I observed no letter changed hands, so assume it is safely stowed away. I am relieved to see you were not stupid enough to stick it beneath your pillow, or only slightly less stupidly, under the sheet or mattress. It is not in with your undergarments ..."
"You had the audacity to rummage through my personal belongings!"
"I blame Kiley for it. Landon would not be so low. You
did
say you don't keep it on you, and all those hateful eye examinations tend to confirm it, unless it is a
very small
letter. Of more importance is for me to hear about this person who searched you. It was not I, which leads us to the overwhelming question—who was it? Somebody knows you have it, and that makes its delivery precarious. I want to hear all about that search."
"Search your memory. You have searched everything else!"
He ignored the remark. "It happened at the White Swan, I take it?"
She inclined her head slightly in agreement. "In your room. You certainly weren't there long. Did it happen before or after I met you in the parlor?"
"Before, the instant I entered the room, in fact."
"So he's followed you from Hastings, must have been on your tail all day. Did you notice anyone following you?"
"No, not anyone, including you."
"I wasn't close enough to be seen—several miles behind, as I got a late start. We'll have to check at the inn before we go, and see if we can discover who stopped shortly after you. The stables will be our best bet."
He sauntered slowly toward her door. "Don't forget to lock up tight behind me. I didn't even have to jimmy the lock, which hints at your carrying the letter somewhere under that delightful gown. Where
can
it be, I wonder?" he asked in a musing way, as though speaking to himself, but his eyes were riveted on her thighs. He even knew the spot where she had concealed it, "Must be fairly uncomfortable, I should think. I hope you have it well tucked in."
He left, without bothering to say good night. The bolt was slid to with a loud bang, but not loud enough to vent the half of her wrath. Entering her bedroom and searching her belongings, without so much as an apology! Upon my word, he had the gall for anything. No doubt he would have searched
her
again as well, had it not been for the Raffertys and Carlisle in the nearby rooms. It was all that had saved her.
Those bold, dark eyes and tanned fingers sent a shiver up her spine. She next considered where to hide the letter for the night. Not under the pillow or sheet or mattress. Other places of concealment seemed equally obvious—under the carpet, in a drawer. In the end, she stuck it between the pages of a large black Bible that rested on the bedside table, and put Elleri's traveling clock on top of it. It was not clear why Elleri took the clock along with her, as its ticking made it ineligible to have it by her when she was trying to sleep. It was used only in the carriage. That night, the ticking kept Vanessa awake, though it had never bothered her before. For close to an hour she lay on her back, listening to the brisk tick tick and planning the next day's movements, till at last she dozed off from sheer exhaustion.
At six she went to her aunt's room to rouse her. "Leaving so soon? You're insane, child. No one leaves so early. They will take us for yahoos."
"We have to leave. Landon is here. He followed us—not difficult, as you left the instructions at the inn," Vanessa said angrily.
"Then we dare not leave. He'll only follow us again. Good God, we are doomed to spend an entire day with the Raffertys. I shall remain in bed. I did not close an eye the whole night long in any case, and am fatigued. Never got an instant's sleep," she claimed with that pride that is an integral part of the insomniac's makeup along with self-delusion.
“We have an escort." Vanessa went on to explain about Mr. Carlisle's fortuitous arrival at Oakdene. It was odd he had not known the estate's name. He had not, though, when she mentioned it in conversation. But it was his first visit to Edward's home; that must account for it.
Elleri asked for her mirror and brush, complained about the bags under her eyes, pulled the bell cord to request coffee in her room while she dressed, then sent Vanessa out while she surreptitiously dabbed a drop of rouge on her cheeks. In theory, she held that rouge was "common," but in practice she resorted to it when she was feeling under the weather.
Vanessa did not think to ask for coffee. She was hungry, tired and irritable when she tripped down the stairs, making as little sound as possible. Her temper did not improve to see Mr. Kiley lounging at the bottom of the stairs, conversing with Rafferty.
"So you think it is Mr. Higgins I should speak to about the potholes in the road?" he said, then turned to cast one laughing eye on Vanessa.
"Higgins is the man," Rafferty confirmed. "Ah, good morning, Miss Bradford. Mr. Kiley tells me you are in such a great hurry you will not take breakfast. I think you are foolish to go off without at least coffee, but if it is your habit, I shan't say more. You don't look as though you need to diet, to me, I must say. The young girls today all want to look like scarecrows, and succeed very well."
"Good morning, ma'am," Kiley added to her welcome. "Aren't we all early birds today? Carlisle tells me he too is going in our direction. As we are all traveling to Ipswich, I wonder if you would be kind enough to allow me to travel in your carriage? Mr. Rafferty has kindly offered to attend to having mine fixed. My axle, you know, was cracked on these
awful
roads they have around Oakdene."
"They've not been resurfaced in twenty years," Rafferty lied wildly.
"Shocking," Kiley said with deep sympathy.
"My aunt particularly dislikes company in the carriage," Vanessa said coldly.
"Unchristian
I
call it," Rafferty said with a sharp nod of the head. He walked off then, muttering about people not caring how much bother they caused others, but only let anyone ask a favor of
them,
and it was a different story.
"I am surprised Miss
Simons
is so mean," Kiley said. "I quite counted on Miss Bradford's lack of hospitality, however, and as Carlisle has not seen fit to offer me a lift, I have sent to the inn for a mount, and shall accompany you mounted."
"You can't have done so already!" she exclaimed.
Mr. Carlisle sauntered in from the breakfast room. He lifted his shoulders, giving her a helpless look behind the interloper's back.
"I am efficient," he allowed with a modest bow. She knew it to be true. He had also managed to learn her destination was Ipswich, by what means she could not know. She had not told the Raffertys, and certainly Carlisle had not told him. "It chanced I had a little business to do at the inn as well. Breakfast," he explained to Carlisle. "I had no notion of setting out on an empty stomach, and did not know the servants would be up so early.
Seven
had been mentioned as the hour for leaving," he reminded Vanessa. As he spoke, he looked at her fixedly. She didn't know what to make of it. It seemed he was trying to tell her something.
Miss Simons came complaining down the stairs, looking every inch as elegant as usual, in a neat traveling suit of blue serge. She was introduced to Carlisle, and expressed every pleasure at making his acquaintance. After struggling for several minutes over the proper mode of address for a gentleman who had changed his name overnight, she also said "Good morning, Colonel Kiley," to do honor to both personas.
She was answered by a half-swallowed gurgle of laughter from the man.
Leaving without breakfast seemed an unnecessary savagery, as Kiley was already assured of being on their trail, but as it had been settled, there was no food ready, so they went out the door, the ladies in a state of great discomfort and ire.
"Why did he laugh?" Elleri enquired of her niece. "I made sure I had hit on the best greeting. Ought I to have said Mr. Landon instead?"
Carlisle walked off toward his smart yellow curricle, and Kiley waited for the ladies. Miss Simons, displeased with his lack of manners, took two steps away and stared into the distance, to show her disgust.
"News for you," he said to Vanessa. "You'll never guess the first fellow to pull into the inn after you yesterday. Mr. Carlisle. Or a fellow driving such a rig as his, in any case, and the description of the driver, too, sounded like him. A jack dandy with a smirking face was the description, verbatim. A very apt one, don't you agree?"
"What is your own rig like?" she asked.
"Why—a yellow curricle, in fact, with also a team of grays, but …” Carlisle's grays were dancing with impatience to be off.
"The smirking face and dandified appearance, too, so
very
apt!" Vanessa pointed out. "It was yourself he spoke of, depend upon it. He was pulling your leg." She strode off to her carriage, with Miss Simons following close behind.
"So Mr. Landon is the spy who is after our letter. A pity," Miss Simons said, glancing out the window at him. "One has such a strong feeling he would make an excellent guard, that it is a pity he is not to be trusted. Carlisle, on the other hand, looks extremely innocent, and ineffectual."
"We dare not trust either of them," Vanessa answered, worried at Landon's last comment. "We must devise some way to be rid of both of them. Oh, how I rue the day I ever met Kiley."
"There is no need to rue Carlisle, at least," Elleri consoled herself, till her niece disillusioned her with Landon's tale that he had been at the inn. She then looked out the window, to see if she could tell by the cut of their jackets which was to be abhorred. They both looked so remarkably handsome and elegant she wished she could trust them. It was very nice to have a male escort for a trip. It made stopping at the inns much more dignified, with someone to see to hiring parlors and tipping waiters and ordering wine.