A perilous engagement, p.12
A Perilous Engagement, page 12
“I believe Mr. Dudley has just now done so.” Lord Harcourt gestured to where Mr. Dudley stood by Sir Henry and Aunt Maitland, gesturing and doing more talking than he had done the entire day.
“How odd,” Ariel murmured, not wanting the others to share her thoughts. “He can express himself when he wants.”
“We shall soon find out what he has said, I’ll wager,” Lord Harcourt murmured back.
Miss Maitland led the way to the table where Jane, Celia, Mr. Ponsonby, Lord Harcourt, and a trembling Ariel sat.
Lord Harcourt rose to his feet, as did Mr. Ponsonby.
“Good day. Miss Maitland, Sir Henry,” Percy said. “You decided that Tunbridge Wells was too appealing to resist, did you? I vow it was all your descriptions that brought it on; you could not stay at home. Such a fine day, as well. The weather has been kind to us all. Would you care to join us for tea?”
Whatever Aunt Maitland had been about to say was left unsaid at the genial flow of words from Mr. Ponsonby. She sputtered like a frustrated hen, then at Sir Henry’s nudge sat on one of the dainty chairs Lord Harcourt had courteously drawn forward for her use.
Jane, looking like she might explode, stared at Aunt Maitland. Celia fidgeted with the reticule in her lap. Mr. Ponsonby merely looked uncomfortable.
Mr. Dudley looked vastly pleased with himself.
“I gather you have had a splendid day?” Aunt Maitland’s words sounded innocent, yet they had a faintly ominous tone to them.
“Indeed we have,” Lord Harcourt replied while Ariel sat waiting for what might follow. “Your niece found a lovely bonnet that looks charming on her. We paid visits to the bookshop and the bespoke perfumery so Miss Townsend could fill a request for her mother.”
Aunt slumped visibly. “Indeed,” she said stiffly with a pained look at Lord Harcourt. She dug into her reticule, then handed a note and a few shillings to Ariel, looking as though it was a distressing exercise. “I suppose you had to borrow from someone.”
“Thank you. Aunt,” Ariel said, although she was certain the money had not been Aunt’s. Her aunt never spent a penny of her own money and was tight as could be with Ariel’s own funds. One would think it was her duty to prevent the spending of the earl’s—and Ariel’s—fortunes.
Mr. Dudley’s smug expression faded.
The young woman brought more tea plus a tray with biscuits and scones and tiny fairy cakes, all of the first stare of quality.
“Please partake of the refreshment. Miss Maitland and Sir Henry,” Mr. Ponsonby said with the grace and charm of a London gentleman of means.
“I had no idea that Tunbridge Wells possessed a pastry shop of this quality,” the lady said reluctantly.
“Indeed, sir, this is a treat,” Sir Henry declared with far more enthusiasm. “Bath couldn’t do better.”
Mr. Dudley sank upon his chair, deflated like a hot-air balloon that had come to ground.
“The day was so fine we could not remain at Stafford when the delights of Tunbridge Wells awaited us,” Sir Henry continued expansively, after savoring the flavor of a delicate almond cake.
“People come here to gossip,” Miss Maitland observed of the others in the pastry shop.
“Ah, but my dear lady, they also take walks, read, ride, and above all, shop. How nice you found a new bonnet. Lady Ariel,” Sir Henry said with a darted look at Mr. Dudley, who said nothing. “It has been my observation that nothing like a new bonnet elevates the spirits of a young lady.”
“I fancy that Miss Maitland would enjoy the same, even if she is not quite a young girl,” Lord Harcourt replied kindly.
Miss Maitland appeared not to know quite how to respond to that remark. She seemed to thaw. “Your mama had a commission for you, Celia?”
“I was able to buy the bottle of scent she wished. It is a gift for Aunt Eulalia.”
Jane eagerly leaned forward to add, “Lord Harcourt insisted upon buying the three of us each a bottle of lavender scent as a memento of our day, as though I would ever forget it.”
Celia placed a hand over her sister’s, silencing her without a word.
“It is most acceptable, dear Aunt. I vow that we have all behaved with utmost propriety,” Ariel said, willing to defend Lord Harcourt with all her being.
“Hmpf,” Miss Maitland murmured, but looked appeased when she washed down her seed cake with a cup of finest bohea tea.
“We must be on our way, I fear,” Lord Harcourt said at last when it appeared there was to be no more conversation and Miss Maitland had consumed the last of the cakes.
A round of thanks was offered to the genial Mr. Ponsonby before they all departed the pastry shop.
Jordan was not unhappy to part from Miss Maitland. She had not been critical, yet cast a pall on the party.
“We shall see you later, then,” Sir Henry said genially. He gave Mr. Dudley a significant look, and Jordan wondered what it meant.
“Could we take a stroll in the Park before we leave, perhaps?” Jane said with eagerness.
“I doubt we have the time,” Celia admonished.
“It is better to be just us,” Lady Ariel said candidly to Lord Harcourt. “I have noticed that oftentimes older people cast a damper on young spirits.”
“How true,” Jordan agreed. He tucked her hand in his arm, then strolled along the Pantiles until they reached the Assembly rooms, where all paused.
“We will be here a week from Wednesday,” Jane said with rapturous delight.
The others smiled, then continued on until they spotted Cotman with the landau and the groom with the gig.
“I say,” Mr. Dudley said of a sudden, “I should like to have Lady Ariel drive back to Stafford Court with me.”
All were so astounded at this complete sentence coming forth from the most silent gentleman any had known that no one knew what to say at first.
Jordan thought back to the significant look from Sir Henry and decided to challenge this change in seating. “Why, sir, you would deprive Miss Jane of the opportunity to have a chance to observe a fine whip once more? She may never get another.”
“Yes, Mr. Dudley,” Lady Ariel seconded as she placed one hand on the door of the landau. “Miss Jane will be quite cast into a green melancholy.”
Jordan took the opportunity to hurry Lady Ariel into the carriage while Percy rushed Miss Townsend in behind her. Percy plumped himself beside her, then Jordan stepped in, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Mr. Dudley gave Jane a look of utter loathing, but assisted her into the gig. There was no other way out.
The walk in the Park indeed had to be omitted, considering how the time had flown by.
“Jane will be desolate,” Miss Townsend commented.
“Another time, perhaps?” Jordan said, then sat back to enjoy the drive back to Stafford Court and the Hall.
They had just passed the brick-making works on the way out of town when it happened.
A shot rang out.
Lady Ariel, Celia, and Percy looked on in horror as blood rapidly began to seep from the sleeve of the elegant coat Jordan wore.
Jordan felt a stinging pain in his right arm such as he had never known. This couldn’t be happening!
Lady Ariel scrabbled to find something useful to stanch the bleeding, while Percy shouted to Cotman, “Turn us around. We must get him to Dr. Mayo at once!”
Jordan’s last coherent thought was to wonder who wanted him out of the way.
Chapter Nine
Mr. Ponsonby leaped forward to come to his friend’s aid, managing to crunch the hatbox in the process. Celia maintained a cool head and stayed on her side of the carriage, not screaming or succumbing to the vapors.
Ariel had sensibly taken a scarf from her neck to tie around Lord Harcourt’s arm to stem the bleeding. He had been but inches away from her, and the thought crossed her mind that in a second she would have been the recipient of the shot. Guns were often inaccurate in aim, and the carriage was moving. Her feelings regarding the death of his cousin flashed in her mind. Could there be a connection? It seemed an odd coincidence that her late betrothed should die and now the gentleman who appeared to court her was shot, narrowly missing death.
Fortunately, Cotman had studied the map of Tunbridge Wells while they had spent the day rambling about the town. When Percy told him Dr. Mayo lived on Mount Ephraim Road, he knew precisely where to turn. In short order they drew up before the building about the same time that Lord Harcourt roused.
“Sorry, cannot think why I passed out,” he murmured, sounding very groggy. Mr. Ponsonby leaped from the carriage to help his friend exit. With the groom on his other side, the gentlemen made their way to the door.
The girls sat in silence for a time, considering all that had happened in the last minutes.
Celia looked at the smashed hatbox and wryly shook her head. “I fear you are doomed to wear your old bonnet a trifle longer.” She shifted to sit next to Ariel, enabling them to speak softly.
“Indeed. You realize that had Cotman chanced to urge the horses to increase their speed, I might have been the one shot, and perhaps not just in the arm.”
Celia digested this and nodded. “Or, had the one shooting been a trifle quicker, it could have hit Lord Harcourt to do terminal damage.”
Ariel grew faint at the mere thought of Lord Harcourt dead, and collapsed into Celia’s lap.
A levelheaded girl, for want of a better restorative Celia hastily found the bottle of lavender scent in her reticule, unstopped it, then wafted it under Ariel’s nose. The seconds seemed to drag, but it was not long before Ariel came to her senses, shaking her head.
“Forgive me. The realization that Lord Harcourt might die affected me strongly.” Ariel adjusted her clothing as she sat up, avoiding the comprehension she knew she’d see in Celia’s eyes.
“I believe you are coming to care for your shining knight. Will your aunt approve of him anymore than she did the previous Lord Harcourt? Is Mr. Dudley an effort to prevent you from—” Celia’s words were cut off at a warning look from Ariel.
At that moment Jane and Mr. Dudley drove up beside the landau. “What happened?” Jane cried, seeing that the men had gone. “I looked behind, and we saw the carriage turn up this way. I insisted we follow.” She shot an incensed look at Mr. Dudley.
Ariel found she could not speak, so it was Celia who replied. “Some insane person was out shooting, and poor Lord Harcourt happened to be in the way.”
“Odd way to put it—in his way?” Mr. Dudley said.
“I should think you would have been terrified!” Jane cried, her face all curiosity.
“What makes you think we were not?” Ariel said, even now feeling more than a bit shaken. “They have been in that house for an age.” She stared at the door as though it might magically open to bring forth her friends.
“Oh, I trust it was not a fatal wound,” Jane cried with chilling fervor.
The door to the house opened, and Mr. Ponsonby came out to the carriage. “Dr. Mayo says it is a clean shot, and he will permit Harcourt to return home under strict condition he go straight to bed.”
Celia and Ariel exchanged relieved looks.
“He will be out soon?” Ariel inquired, only to see Lord Harcourt leave the house on the arm of the groom.
There was a trifle more color in his face. He walked slowly, but did not look as though he would collapse. His coat was removed and draped over his shoulders; a black silk sling cradled his arm close to his chest to prevent additional harm. The very sight of him brought tears to Ariel’s eyes, tears she instantly repressed.
Once he was in the carriage, Ariel insisted, “Here, put your head on my lap and rest for the trip to the Hall. We shall endeavor to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Hear now,” Mr. Dudley objected, “not proper.”
“And what have you to say to anything, Mr. Dudley?” Ariel asked, allowing her dislike of the man to surface momentarily.
He subsided, turning to Jane to suggest they begin the trip back to Stafford.
“I should rather follow the landau in the event something is needed where we might be of help,” Jane said quietly, but most firmly.
Celia gave an approving nod. Mr. Dudley sat back in the gig with a sullen pout.
Once again Lord Harcourt was encouraged to pillow his head on Ariel’s lap. The others arranged themselves as best as they could. At the signal from Mr. Ponsonby, Cotman brought the carriage into sedate motion, one that it was hoped would least jounce Lord Harcourt.
Jordan tried to ease into a more comfortable position. He felt like a fool, passing out because of a mere bullet wound in his arm—no more than a scratch. He reflected on the danger— to himself and to Lady Ariel. A moment either way and it would have been the end for one of them. That had frightened him more than the shot—especially the danger to Ariel. She was too precious to be lost to—all.
“I should like to know why anyone was shooting this close to Tunbridge Wells and near a main road out of town,” he said to Percy in a somewhat unsteady voice.
“We were right by the brick works when it happened. Perhaps there has been a spot of trouble there?” Percy queried.
“I doubt it,” Celia Townsend said instantly. “There has been no trouble with workers anywhere around here. They are all too glad to get work to create trouble. Not a great deal of poaching going on, either.”
“Poaching? In the middle of the day and so close to town?” Percy queried. “I doubt that.”
“Why would anyone wish to put a period to Lord Harcourt’s existence?” Lady Ariel exclaimed softly, giving voice to the thought that had lingered in all minds since the shooting occurred.
“Who can say?” Jordan speculated. “Thank goodness the carriage had moved just enough so the bullet went through my arm and not my shoulder.”
“You will have to rest easy for a time, my lord,” Lady Ariel said, brushing back his dark hair from his forehead with a gentle hand, lingering just a bit more than necessary.
Jordan snuggled more comfortably into her lap, occasionally allowing his gaze to stray to her face. Ariel’s tender caress and the concern in her eyes brought warmth to his chilled heart, eased the ache in his arm. It would seem that she was very worried for him, and her caring deepened his regard for her.
It seemed to take forever to make the return trip to Harcourt Hall. Even though Jordan felt measurably better as time passed, he remained where he was, content to enjoy Ariel’s comforting ministrations.
At the Hall Mrs. Longwood bustled forth to meet them. Once aware of her employer’s injury, she took charge. She was never bossy, nor did she raise her voice, yet within moments the servants had matters to hand, assisting his lordship from the carriage and into the house.
“It would be most improper for me to remain here to nurse Lord Harcourt,” Ariel said. It was clear she wished she might.
“Your aunt would have a prolonged case of the vapors, I vow,” Celia replied, the shadow of a smile crossing her pleasant face.
Percy returned from the house at that moment. “He would like to see you shortly. Wants to thank you for your care, I’m sure. Then I will see you home.” He turned to where Celia sat silently to add, “If you will wait a moment, I will see you home and explain matters to your parents. Jane ought to be there by now, but she does not have all the facts.”
“Indeed,” Celia said with a sigh. She entered the house with Ariel while Cotman took the landau to the stables, intent upon arranging for the curricle to be harnessed for the short drive to Miss Townsend’s home and then later to Stafford Court.
Leaving Celia in the drawing room, Ariel followed Mr. Ponsonby up the stairs until they reached the room where he indicated his friend rested.
Ariel paused outside the oak door, casting a concerned look at Mr. Ponsonby. “You will remain with me? I fear I shall burst into tears and utterly disgrace myself. Poor man, to be so injured while giving us a treat.”
Once he assured her he would be at her side, Ariel opened the door to enter the room.
It was a distinct shock to see the vital Lord Harcourt flat on his back. He had yet to change to his nightshirt—a matter she surmised Barton would handle in a trice. His lordship reclined on the bed, his coat removed. A thick bandage covered his upper arm; the shirtsleeve had been cut away and his arm was otherwise bare, and quite still. A faint pink tinge stained the linen. The valet stood guard on the other side of the bed, ready to take charge at any time if need be.
“It isn’t as bad as you might think. Within a day or two I shall be as right as a trivet,” Lord Harcourt said, his voice still shaky but stronger than she had expected.
“I wish I might do something to help.” She clasped her hands together, wishing she might be there to soothe his brow and offer comfort. That he wore a thin cambric shirt, his cravat tossed aside, and a goodly amount of skin was revealed she quite ignored. The significance of the stain she set aside to be worried over later.
The gentlemen exchanged looks.
Lord Harcourt spoke. “You were more than kind to help me on the way home. I thank you for that.”
Mr. Ponsonby touched Ariel on her arm. “I believe it is time to go. He needs some sleep, I think.”
Unable to prevent herself, Ariel reached out to gently touch Lord Harcourt’s hand. “I trust you will be well as soon as possible.”
“Indeed I shall. We have an assembly to attend if I make no mistake. You shall promise me two dances.”
A ghost of a grin passed across his face, and she wanted to weep. Ariel could find no words to scold him at the moment. She merely shook her head, then left the room, thankful for Mr. Ponsonby’s comforting presence beside her.
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the handkerchief Mr. Ponsonby proffered, then composed herself, stiffening her spine and forcing the tears to recede.
“There now,” he said with an awkward pat on her shoulder. He ushered her to the drawing room, where Celia awaited them. “I suggest you wait here until I have taken Miss Townsend home and given the explanation. It may be possible for you to check on Harcourt again before you leave for home.”
