Elizabeth and Charles once again rode behind the others, and he was soon amusing her, and making her laugh with a story that was told of Lady Holland. They went on to discuss the Prince Regent’s latest starts and their literary favourites, then lapsed into a companionable silence until Charles suddenly asked, “How is your estimable suitor?”
She glanced at him. “Lord Braxton?”
He studied her face, a slight smile upon his lips, but an odd, unreadable expression in his eyes. “Have you other suitors? I must warn you, my sweet, that we rakes are noted for our jealous and possessive natures.”
Disconcerted, she ignored his last statement. “No, of course I have no other suitors. Only Lord Braxton.”
“Have you not yet sent him to rout?”
“Would that I could! I am sure that I ought to like him, for he has so many admirable virtues, but I own that I cannot. Poor man!”
“Don’t waste your sympathy on him,” he advised her. “The man is a crushing bore and was born to be abused.”
“What an infamous thing to say!”
“Not at all. I’m convinced Lord Braxton and I have a mutual regard for each other. I’m sure he would like nothing better than to throw me in the close, if he were able to.”
“I collect that is a boxing term, and I’m woefully ignorant on that subject, I’m sorry to say.”
“No, no! Never apologize to a gentleman for being ignorant!”
“Never apologize for being ignorant?” she asked, astonished. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Never to a gentleman, I said. There is no surer way for a female to fix a man’s interest than by showing ignorance, and the more imbecilic the better in most cases. How else can a man puff off his better-informed mind and superior intelligence?”
“Oh! You are being absurd again!” She laughed. “And if you mean to instruct me in the art of boxing, I pray you will not! I haven’t the least desire to learn it.”
“My dear girl, with such an attitude you shall make me think you don’t wish to attach me. I take leave to tell you that in all my dealings with you, you have shown a sad want of witlessness, and I suspect that has been your trouble all along.”
She gave an indignant gasp, then struggled to keep from laughing, with little success.
“Abominable creature!” she accused.
“Adorable baggage!” he retaliated.
They went on in this way, talking easily with each other until they had nearly reached Bath, and Charles asked abruptly, “Who is this young smart who is being so attentive to my niece?”
Elizabeth glanced ahead to where an elegant young gentleman rode close beside Melanie and was in animated conversation with her. With a puzzled frown she turned her gaze back to Charles. “He is Adrian Kirby.”
“I know that, my lovely goose. I should perhaps have asked, what do you know of him? Are you acquainted with him?”
“No, not well. I believe he is visiting his great-aunt, who is one of our Bath Quizzes. He has become quite friendly with the Gilberts, and appears to be a very amiable, well-mannered young man. Why do you ask? Do you fear that he isn’t a fit beau for her?”
“No. I was simply curious.” He grinned as he added, “One cannot be too careful when one is a chaperon.”
“Oh, dear! I fear I have been sadly remiss in my duties. I never noticed that he was trying to make himself so agreeable to her.”
“Don’t fret, my sweet. You may be a deplorable chaperon, but you are an excellent companion,” he teased.
By this time they were in Bath, and after leaving the others at Laura Place, Charles rode with Elizabeth to Upper Camden Place. When they arrived, he dismounted, and tethered the horses before coming to her side to help her. But instead of handing her down in the way she expected, he placed both hands on her slim waist and lifted her down, then stood for a moment looking into her eyes, his hands still on her waist.
He released her at last and said quietly, “It has been a delightful day.”
“Oh, yes,” she answered breathlessly, for she suddenly felt very confused and very shy.
CHAPTER SIX
After their parting that afternoon, both Elizabeth and Charles experienced some misgivings at the intensity of their feelings in that moment. However, each managed, after a period of introspection, to subdue what fears they had that there might be some danger in continuing the acquaintance. Both contrived to convince themselves that they were capable of keeping their association on the level of a friendly flirtation.
And so, when Charles called the next day, inviting Elizabeth to ride out with him, she agreed without a qualm, and over the next two weeks, they spent increasingly more time together, taking long rides over the countryside, meeting in the Pump Room and in Sydney Gardens, or walking out to Beechen Cliff. They attended the balls in the assembly rooms, the concerts on Wednesday evenings and dined together often with their families.
Elizabeth, having decided simply to enjoy this interlude in her quiet life, stepped forward to meet each new day joyously and heedlessly, blind to the knowing looks of all the Bath Quizzes, and deaf to their tongue-waggings. Nor did she take notice of the frequent concern that began to show in her aunt’s eyes.
A strong sense of uneasiness and fear was developing in Emily’s breast. At first, thrown into transports of joy by the apparent affinity between her niece and Charles, she had congratulated Margaret on whatever contrivance she had used to prolong Charles’s presence in Bath. And when her friend had denied any hand in this, Emily became quite deliriously hopeful of the desired outcome of the affair, surmising that Elizabeth was the attraction which held him. So wildly optimistic was she that she had allowed them hours alone together without protest or consideration for propriety. She had even gone so far as to encourage this very improper conduct.
But Emily could not fail for long to see the sidelong glances, or hear the whispered innuendoes of Bath Society. Neither could she forget Charles’s unfortunate reputation, nor the fact that he had never yet shown any predilection for serious or lasting romantic connections.
At last, she could contain her dire apprehensions no longer and revealed them to her friend.
“But, Margaret,” she wailed, “it has been more than two weeks, and while they are forever in each other’s pockets, and he is excessively attentive, I cannot but feel that his manner is more flirtatious than overwise.”
“Nonsense, Emily!” her friend replied. “It is as plain as a pikestaff that they are head over heels in love. They are simply too foolish or too obstinate to admit to it.”
“Do you think so, indeed?” asked Emily hopefully.
“Of course! Stop being such a ninnyhammer, Emily!”
However, Emily could not stop being what she was and very soon fell prey, once more, to the most miserable doubts.
“Still, if he should be but amusing himself with a mere flirtation, it would be too unbearably dreadful! Oh, I don’t know what I should do!”
“I daresay what they need is a small push and I expect we must give it,” Lady Margaret mused.
“It’s all very well for you to say that, but I cannot for the life of me see what we may do!”
The veriest touch of peevishness had crept into Emily’s voice.
“Well, my dear, I had not meant to tell you quite yet, but as it happens, I do have a scheme that just may answer,” said the redoubtable Lady Langley.
When she failed to continue, but sat instead in frowning contemplation, Emily urged impatiently, “Well? What is it? Don’t just sit there! Pray, tell me!”
Her affectionate friend had no intention of disclosing her plan to Emily too soon. The dear, silly feather-brain would more than likely let the cat out of the bag by telling Elizabeth, so she said, “No, don’t ask me, for I shan’t tell you yet. I must still work out a few minor details, but when I have done, I shall not hesitate to tell you the whole. Trust me, my dear.”
And with that Emily was obliged to be satisfied.
It was but three days later, while Elizabeth was out walking with Charles, that Wiggons again led Lady Langley to the morning room in Upper Camden Place. She waited only until the butler had left them before saying, “Emily, we have not a moment to lose! We must put my scheme to the test today. I’ll not deny that I had hoped for more time to think it through. However, a remark Charles made last night makes me fear that he means to leave Bath any day now.”
“Oh, I knew it! I knew it!” cried Emily, falling back into her chair dramatically, hands pressed to her heart.
“Do spare me your starts, Emily! Good heavens! We haven’t time for your vapours and spasms now! Come down to the drawing room and I’ll explain my plan to you.”
Lady Langley assisted the bewildered, wilting Emily from her chair and led her down to the drawing room, adjusting her trailing shawl for her as they went, and soon had her installed on the sofa, vinaigrette in hand.
Speaking carefully, as though to a child, she said, “Now then, my dear, I must just have a word with Wiggons and then I’ll explain everything. In the meantime, simply continue as you are and you shall play your part to perfection.” Then she hurried from the room.
A half hour later, at eleven o’clock, Elizabeth and Charles were standing at the door, saying goodbye, when it was opened to reveal Wiggons who, with his usual aplomb, intoned, “Miss Elizabeth, if you please. Lady Langley is waiting in the drawing room and requests that both you and the gentleman attend her there as soon as may be.”
He held the door wide for them, and the pair, exchanging questioning looks, crossed the entry hall and threw open the door to the drawing room.
The spectacle which awaited them was wholly astonishing. Emily lay prostrate upon the sofa, one arm flung across her eyes, vinaigrette clutched in the other hand, moaning softly. Lady Langley was lying back in a deep wing-chair, one foot elevated upon a small stool, a mixture of pain and distress contorting her features.
Lady Langley opened her eyes and said faintly, “Oh, Charles! Thank God you are come!”
“Good God!” he exclaimed. “What has happened?”
Elizabeth had rushed to her aunt’s side in apprehensive solicitude, but Emily only moaned more piteously in answer to her alarmed questions.
Lady Langley uttered a small, anguished cry as she shifted the position of her foot, but gazed bravely up at her brother, saying in the same dying voice, “No, no, my dear, do not fear for me. It’s nothing. Merely a severe sprain which I incurred upon the doorstep in my haste to get here. And though the pain is quite excruciating, I daresay I shall bear up.”
“But what is this? How came you to be in such haste to get here?”
“Oh, Charles! What shall I do? My poor Melanie! How could she be so lost to all sense of propriety? Oh, what am I to do?”
She was wringing her hands anxiously, and Emily’s moans increased in volume as Charles, running his hand through his hair, demanded, “What the devil are you talking about? And how am I to tell you what should be done until I can make sense of what you are saying? Come now! Tell me the story with no more roundaboutation.”
“Oh, Charles,” his sister cried tragically, “Melanie has eloped with Adrian Kirby! I was never so deceived or so ill-used!”
“Damnation! Are you sure?”
“Well, of course I am sure! Why should I tell you such a tale if it were not true?”
Emily moaned loudly.
“How the devil do you know?” asked Charles reasonably, though with some impatience.
From her reticule she pulled a sheet of paper which was covered with nearly illegible handwriting and spotted liberally with what appeared to be tear stains. Charles gave it only a cursory glance, as his sister said, “You may well stare! I did myself when I saw this note!”
“What in God’s name can have possessed the tiresome chit to do anything so idiotically bird-witted?” Charles demanded.
“Oh, there isn’t time for that!” Lady Margaret wailed. “She shall be ruined if she isn’t stopped! Oh, Charles, you must go after her!”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, scowling, and ran his fingers through his hair once more. “We must assume them to be making for Gretna Green. Have you a map, Elizabeth?”
“I shall fetch it, Charles,” Elizabeth said, hurrying from the room.
Noting this intimate use of their given names, Lady Margaret just barely stifled a crow of satisfaction, and admirably preserved her agonized countenance.
When Elizabeth returned, she and Charles pored over the map.
“They will be taking the Bristol turnpike. It’s the only decent one if one wishes to travel quickly,” she told him.
Glancing up at his sister, he asked tersely, “How long have they been gone?”
“It cannot have been above an hour. You should catch them easily if you hurry.”
“Yes,” he said, and folding the map, he started for the door.
“Stay!” shouted Lady Langley, arresting him on the spot.
“What the devil?” he exclaimed irritably.
“Oh, Charles, I am persuaded that my poor girl would wish to have a female to lend her support when you catch up with them. But what shall we do? Neither Emily nor I are in any case to go with you. And her abigail would be no better than useless. She is so very shatter-brained!”
“I shall be happy to go with him, ma’am,” said Elizabeth. “We should overtake them easily in time to be back before nightfall.”
“Oh, my dear, would you? I cannot thank you enough!”
“Yes, of course. I should like to help.”
Elizabeth looked to Charles for his approval of this plan, but he was studying his sister speculatively.
After a moment a faint smile curled his lips and he said, “Of course. The perfect solution.”
Turning to Elizabeth, he told her, “I believe we shall travel much faster in my curricle than in a closed carriage. I shall fetch it while you are changing into warmer clothing. It will be a cold drive.”
Elizabeth ran to do his bidding, and Charles faced his sister once again. “Take heart, dear sister,” he said with a grin. “Somehow I feel sure all will go as you wish!”
He saluted her once and was gone.
Elizabeth was waiting in her warmest gown and pelisse, carrying a fur muff to warm her hands, when he returned in a half hour. After handing her up and placing a lap-robe over her knees, he climbed up beside her and, flicking the reins, started off.