Rebel Heiress (24 page)

‘Spoke like a lady.' Miss Muggeridge snatched the guinea. ‘I thought from the first you was a right ‘un. And as for today, you ain't to trouble yourself about that, for accidents on a Sunday is what my Ma would never allow, being a pious woman and a churchgoer, and polishes the brass in the sanctuary something beautiful. So the little dear's safe enough till the morning, but I'd get there as soon as you can then, if I was you,' cos there's the copper on a Monday, and water from the well and I don't know what all. But I tell you what I'll do, since you're so freehanded, and maybe,
if
I do you might think it worth two more guineas for my trouble —
and
the risk of Ma's catching me, which is what I don't like even to think of. But how would it be if I was to lose Caroline, first thing after breakfast? Then you could come along and find her when you chose, and Ma would just think the child had strayed and saved her dear knows how much trouble and fret, for she don't
like
the accidents, don't Ma, being a God fearing woman, as I've told you already. But how you've got to look at it, as she's told me many a time, is she's doing the little angels a kindness, sending them to heaven direct, and no more wailing and gnashing of teeth in this vale of tears. Though I never could think it was quite the same, meself. So how' about it, miss — is it a bargain?'

‘Indeed it is, and you shall have your two guineas. But how will you contrive to lose the child where I may find her?'

‘Bless you, miss, that's easy enough. She minds me all right, has learned better than not to. I'll just take her over into the park first thing in the morning. There's an old keeper's hut in the wood above Pen Ponds. Nobody goes there no more, she'll be safe as houses and I warrant you she'll stay there till you come.'

Henrietta did not altogether like this plan, but could not for the life of her think of a better one, and finally agreed, and gave Miss Muggeridge her additional two guineas, since, as the girl pointed out, they would not be meeting next day. ‘But you can count on me, miss, cross my heart, and I count on you not to tell Ma.' She left at last after swearing Henrietta to secrecy and trying without success for a fourth guinea.

Left alone, Henrietta paced up and down her room in an
agony of indecision. Of course little Caroline must be rescued, and she did not for a moment regret the arrangement she had made with Miss Muggeridge. But what next? Her first instinct was to go to Lady Marchmont with the whole story. But then she remembered a sinister, significant phrase of Miss Muggeridge's. There would be some, she had said, who would be pleased to hear of the child's ‘accident'. Who else could she mean but Lady Marchmont? So — horrible, but no help there. Well then: Caroline must be taken down to Miss Patience Gilbert's school at Shrovebridge, where she was sure of a hearty welcome. But how to get her there? Henrietta had a healthy enough respect by now for her old enemies, the conventions, to realise that she could not possibly drive so far unaccompanied. Who could she ask to go with her? The elder Miss Gilbert was the obvious person, but she was out of town for the week-end. There would be no help from her. Cedric, then? He was in the secret already which was a great argument for employing him in the business. But could she trust him? If he was actually engaged to Miss Jenkinson it would be something else again. Then, as she had told her friend, she would be able to regard him as a brother. But, as things stood, to ask for his escort seemed a chancy enough expedient. Besides, there was Miss Jenkinson's own warning to be considered. What would she think if, after so positively claiming Cedric as her own, she should learn that Henrietta had gone jaunting about the countryside with him again?

For a moment, Henrietta was tempted to take Miss Jenkinson herself into her confidence. She could, she was sure, be certain of her enthusiastic support, and there would be nothing improper about their making the journey to Shrovebridge together. But this would entail betraying Lady Marchmont's secret, which she had no right to do. No, it was no use. Everything pointed to Cedric as her companion. She must merely count herself fortunate that he had given up all idea of paying his addresses to her.

She hurried downstairs in hopes of finding him and making her arrangements for the next day, but there was no sign either of him or of Miss Jenkinson. Peveril and Stanmore who were lounging in the billiard room, greeted her with their usual elegant langour and told her that Lady Marchmont was out in the
vis à vis
with Lady Liverpool. Cedric and Miss Jenkinson had, they believed, accompanied them on horseback. ‘For my
part' — Peveril stifled a yawn — ‘I' as soon dance attendance on a hearse. Your play, I believe, Stanmore. Servant, Miss Marchmont.'

Feeling herself dismissed and having, indeed, no inclination to remain, Henrietta found her way to the morning room where she occupied her fingers with her embroidery while her mind fretted round and around the subject of tomorrow. She was soon interrupted by her hostess and Lady Marchmont who returned, she thought, not in the best of charity with each other. Lady Marchmont, who was not used to going about unescorted, complained of heat and headache. Lady Liverpool showed all the signs of a gentlewoman whose patience has been sorely tried. Of Cedric and Miss Jenkinson there was no sign.

They appeared at last just as the covers were laying for luncheon, and one look at Miss Jenkinson's pale and Cedric's triumphant face told Henrietta that they must have come to an understanding. As he handed Miss Jenkinson upstairs Cedric turned and caught Henrietta's eye. ‘There,' his look seemed to say, ‘so much for you!'

She had no opportunity to speak to him during luncheon, for he never left Miss Jenkinson's side. Afterwards, there farewells to be said, for the party was breaking up that afternoon. Miss Jenkinson kissed Henrietta warmly, called her ‘her dearest creature', winked to underline the phrase and told her she would visit her next day. ‘I have a thousand things to tell you, my love.'

Blushing and stammering, Henrietta begged her to postpone the visit until Tuesday. ‘Tomorrow —' She stopped, boggled and began again: Tomorrow, I am most unfortunately engaged.'

To her relief, Miss Jenkinson only laughed, called her a teasing mysterious creature and allowed Cedric to hand her into the carriage in which she and her cousins were to return to town. If he had hoped to be invited to go with them, he swallowed his disappointment and accompanied his mother and Henrietta with a good grace. He could not have told his mother about the engagement Henrietta was sure must exist, for if he had, Lady Marchmont could not possibly have concealed her triumph. As it was, she grumbled all the way home about the heat, the dull week-end and her dislike of politics. When they arrived, she went straight upstairs to her room, announcing that she intended to go to bed at once.

Henrietta paused beside Cedric in the hall. ‘I believe I am to congratulate you.'

He was delighted to have his secret guessed. ‘So you spotted it, eh? I bet Miss Jenkinson — Sally, I should say — a snuff-box that you would. She won't bet money with me. Ain't she an odd girl: But rich as Crassus or whoever it was that turned things to gold, and besides, you know, Henrietta, she's as game as they come. But it's to be a secret, mind, till she's talked to her cousin. I'll say it for you, Henrietta, I know you won't blab, but my mother's another story. Tell her and you might as well tell the world, so mum's the word till I give you the office.'

‘Of course I'll not speak of it, unless to Miss Jenkinson herself, who, I collect, may choose to tell me. But, Cedric, I have a favour to ask of you.'

‘Oh?' He did not sound best pleased. ‘Don't tell me you're in Queer Street now, Henrietta, and don't think I can do anything for you if you are. If I don't get Sally to the altar damn quick, the Jews'll ruin me and no mistake. But she's a Trojan. I told her just how I stood, and she laughed and said it was nothing. I'm a lucky man and I know it. I'm turning over a new leaf today: No more betting, no more horses, no more cards. Do you know, she has three cotton mills and a shipping business? And lord knows what in real estate. That's worth a few good resolutions, don't you think, Henrietta? I bet you a pound to a pocket handkerchief I'm the soberest Methodist of them all by next year.'

‘No more betting, Cedric?' asked Henrietta.

‘Oh, well.' He coloured. ‘You must give me time, you know. And Sally doesn't mind so long as it ain't money. I should have said a pouncet box to a pocket handkerchief.'

‘Of course. I think it's a capital notion of hers. But now for my favour. I must ask you to accompany me to the country tomorrow, Cedric.' And she hurriedly outlined the story Miss Muggeridge had told her and the plan they had made between them.

He whistled between his teeth when she told him of the ‘accident' that was to befall little Caroline, but when she came to the end of her story, with a final ‘So you see, she must be taken away at once, and I am counting on you, Cedric,' he looked grave.

‘I am sorry to disappoint you, Henrietta, but I do not see
how I can come tomorrow. Sally has arranged for me to meet her man of business and, perhaps, to talk to Lord Liverpool. It cannot be so urgent as all that, and indeed I think the girl was probably making it up out of whole cloth to get money from you. ‘Yes' — he was convincing himself — ‘it sounds like a mare's nest to me. Trust you to be taken in by a sharper, Henrietta. You should have sent for me; I'd soon have sifted her.'

She protested in vain. He had made up his mind that the story was a fabrication and nothing would shake him. At last she gave it up and retired despondently to her room to cast about for expedients. She had finally decided that there was nothing for it but to go alone, when Rose knocked at her door to announce that Mr. Simon Rivers was below asking for her. She jumped to her feet. It seemed a miracle. She had liked Charles' younger brother immensely when they met at Almack's, and had been surprised at her own disappointment when he failed to call on her next day. Now, he came most timely. So far as the world was concerned, he was her fiancé's brother, and, equally important, like Charles he was Lord Marchmont's ward. What better ally for this strange venture of hers?

She moved quickly to the glass, patted a curl into place, pinched a little colour into cheeks pale with anxiety and hurried down to find Simon Rivers in the morning room. He came quickly to meet her, an apology on his lips. To call at this unseasonable hour, and on a Sunday too, was, he knew unpardonable. But he was returning to Oxford immediately and must enquire first for news of his brother.

She had indeed found a letter from Charles awaiting her and was able to report that he was well, but that from hints he threw out she thought he expected a major action shortly. ‘He promises us glorious news,' she concluded. ‘I only wish it was safely over.'

‘Never fret yourself for Charles,' Simon Rivers said robustly. ‘He bears a charmed life, always has. Trouble passes him by. Now if it were me, you'd be in the right of it to be worried; if there's a scrape going, I'm for it; always have been, always will. Look at me now, condemned to Paley's
Evidences
when I would give my eyeteeth to be in Spain with Charles, or at the last of it here in London with my way to make in the world. But as for Charles, do not you be worrying yourself
about him; he will come out with glory and a whole skin too, I promise you.'

Henrietta took the plunge. ‘Mr. Rivers, you are come most happily today. I was in despair until you arrived and now I am to ask a favour of you.'

He looked surprised but spoke out roundly. ‘I am yours to command, of course.'

‘It is a somewhat delicate matter, and you will, I know, forgive me if I do not go into it too much in detail. But the long and short of it is I have to go out of town tomorrow on an errand to Shrovebridge and would be most grateful if you would accompany me. I have my carriage, and see no reason why we should not be back by nightfall, but I do not think I should go alone.'

‘Go alone! I should rather think not. Of course I'll go with you. It is but to climb into college once more.'

‘Oh.' This was a new idea to Henrietta. ‘You cannot get permission to come?'

‘Well, hardly,' he said cheerfully, ‘since I have overstayed my leave already. But that's nothing: I climb in as often as not, there's more sport that way. Tell me when I shall call on you in the morning.'

‘Why, as to that' — she had already considered this point — ‘I think perhaps it would be best if I were to call for you at your lodgings.'

‘Call for me in St. James's! I may not be quite up to snuff yet, Miss Marchmont, but I hope I know the world better than to let you do that. No, no, if you do not wish me to give you the meeting here, you had best pick me up by the new pagoda in the park. There are always enough idlers there so that I may pass unnoticed. You will, I collect, wish to make an early start. I will be there, awaiting your arrival, at ten o'clock.'

Henrietta sighed with relief. Here was help at last. Simon Rivers might not have his brother's elegant good looks, but there was something wonderfully solid and reliable about him. As at their first meeting, she found herself wondering why Lady Marchmont and, indeed, her father, seemed to think of him as negligible. But they had not seen him for some time. No doubt they still thought of him as the awkward boy he must have been. Now he was a man, and one to be trusted.

Henrietta was up betimes next day and contrived easily enough to leave the house without encountering either Lady Marchmont or Cedric. She had told Rose that she was going to visit Miss Patience Gilbert, and hoped it would be assumed that the elder Miss Gilbert had accompanied her. If her coachman thought it somewhat odd to be ordered to drive to the pagoda in Hyde Park, he was much too well trained to show it. As they approached the pagoda, Henrietta was relieved to see Simon Rivers loitering unobtrusively at the side of the road, and ordered the coachman to draw up. Quick as a flash, Simon was in the coach and the astonished coachman had received his orders to drive to Richmond. ‘To Richmond?' Simon lifted one eyebrow in a way so reminiscent of his brother that for a moment Henrietta's heart stood still.