Page 7 of A Gentleman’s Offer
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Dominic rode home, frowning, and gave precise instructions to his servants. They were far too well trained to betray any surprise at the peculiar tidings he gave them regarding a middle-aged female domestic of respectable appearance named Hannah, surname unknown, who would shortly be calling upon him in St James’s Square and who was to be shown directly into his presence.
Meg had not delayed, it seemed, and so her old nurse arrived early in the forenoon, ushered in and announced by a carefully expressionless butler, and Dominic was soon urging her to take a seat in his snug, well-furnished library so they could converse. She took a comfortable chair without tiresome preliminaries, though she refused his offer of refreshment, and regarded him shrewdly with a pair of bright brown eyes, not the least disconcerted by being alone with a strange young gentleman in his private residence. Hannah Treadwell was a stout woman in her forties, dressed in the muted colours and practical fabrics suitable for a woman of her station, but with an air of quiet self-confidence and self-possession that made her a person of some substance, if one had the wit to see it.
‘Mrs Treadwell,’ Dominic said. ‘Thank you for coming. I believe you have a message for me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said with great composure, handing over a document she produced from her capacious reticule. ‘Miss Meg and I have put our heads together and set down the names and – so far as we have them, or could get them – the directions of the new employers of everyone who has left Lord Nightingale’s service in the last couple of years. We didn’t include outdoor servants who had little to do with Miss Maria, or anyone who stayed in their posts but a few weeks, as some did. It’s still not the shortest list you ever saw, sir, I’m afraid.’
He took it from her with a word of thanks. ‘Where do you think Miss Nightingale has gone?’ he asked her abruptly. ‘And are you as worried about her as her sister is, ma’am?’
‘She never has confided in me, sir. I wish I knew something that could help you to find her, but I’m afraid I don’t. And yes, I am worried. She has her head in the clouds, that one. For all that, she’s stronger and more determined than she looks, but she has no more idea of the ways of the world than a babe of seven summers. How could she?’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ She was regarding him steadily, her thoughts unreadable, and Dominic felt compelled to add, ‘I’m not seeking her out so she can be forced to marry me, you know, Mrs Treadwell. I’ve no interest at all in a reluctant bride. But if she has gone because of me, which I must assume she has, given the timing, I bear some responsibility for her safety. I should have spoken to her in private and made sure that she was willing to accept my offer, and not being constrained by her father. I knew all was not well with her, but I misunderstood the reason.’
‘I doubt she would have told you even if you had pressed her, sir. She’s very reserved in some ways. I brought her up from a baby, and she didn’t tell me anything. I asked her, too, if your offer was to her liking, and she said it was. She wasn’t tripping around her chamber strewing rose petals and singing for joy, but she’s always been quiet and she said you seemed a most estimable gentleman, and that she was surprised, in fact, that Lord Nightingale had chosen so well, him being what he is. I sensed nothing at all amiss, so why should you?’
‘I have wondered – and I didn’t want to ask Miss Margaret, for several excellent reasons – if there was any chance Miss Nightingale might have another suitor, one whose advances she knew her father would never approve. Might she be in love with someone she knew must be considered highly unsuitable, do you think, ma’am, and have run off to Gretna with him?’
She didn’t answer him directly, looking at him shrewdly and saying instead, ‘You take it very cool, sir, I must say, if that’s what you think.’
He said, a little impatiently, ‘It would be foolish to pretend to be deeply in love with someone I scarcely know. And as for the blow to my self-esteem, I believe I will survive it. Better to know now exactly how things stand, don’t you think, when matters can still be mended, rather than after the wedding when it’s far too late, and both of us bound to come home by weeping cross?’
Hannah sighed in apparent agreement. ‘Well, if that’s the way of things, I must be honest and admit it’s crossed my mind. But I can’t say who it might be. There’s no young men visit her father’s house, I promise you, or none of the kind that’d be likely to appeal to her, or any woman with eyes in her head. Scholars, that’s all, and antiquarians; poor, dusty creatures, every one of them. And she was spending most of her days at that fancy school up till a month or two ago, where she barely met a man from one month to the next. Trust the mistresses there to make sure of that, or what are they being paid such a pretty penny for? She’s not the type to be falling in love with her old dancing master or the boy who cleans the boots, or any of that foolishness. It would surely have to be someone she’d met since her come-out. Some dashing young blade who’d turned her head. But sir, I have to think I’d have noticed the change in her, being on the lookout for it, as you might say, with her so pretty and innocent and such a good catch. So I’d be obliged to say no.’
‘I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry,’ he said. ‘It would be a great scandal, of course, but it would also be an explanation of sorts, rather than all this devilish uncertainty. I’ll look at your list of servants, ma’am, and think how best to make enquiries among them, but I’m not overly sanguine. If she’s told you nothing, nor her sister, are we to think she would so easily confide in another she cannot know half so well, and seek their aid instead of yours? And that’s a point I had not previously thought of. Why would she not go straight to her mother, above all people? Surely she could be depended upon to support and shelter Miss Nightingale, if her husband was indeed forcing her daughter into just the sort of arranged marriage that has caused her so much unhappiness.’
‘I don’t know, sir. I honestly don’t. I wish I did. And if you’re thinking to ask next if she might have gone to her half-brother, Master Francis, I can promise you she hasn’t – she’s barely met him half a dozen times in her life, if so many. I doubt she even knows where he keeps his lodging.’
There seemed nothing more to be said, and Mrs Treadwell made her departure, leaving Dominic frowning over the paper she had left him. After considering it for a while, he rang the bell and asked that his head groom and his valet be sent to him. Another unusual request – why both together? – but once again the butler showed not the least sign that anything was amiss, and in a short while Messrs Fishwick and Pargeter joined him, and both took their seats at his invitation, looking at him questioningly.
‘I am in the devil of a fix,’ he told them bluntly. ‘I presume you have heard that I am – or I was – to be married.’ Dominic realised suddenly that he should already have told his staff the news himself; should have set matters in train to receive his bride into his house, which would become hers – and yet he hadn’t. Had said nothing, had done nothing. Somehow he’d known instinctively that the damn thing wasn’t real and wasn’t going to happen. But that didn’t signify now. ‘I say “was”, because Miss Nightingale has disappeared. Run away, I must assume, because she didn’t wish to marry me.’ He really was getting excessively tired of saying that to people.
‘Disappeared since last night, sir?’ his valet Stephen Pargeter ventured incredulously. He was a young, bright-eyed, endless enthusiastic fellow who was also an excellent valet, and once Dominic had trained him out of expressing that puppyish enthusiasm in the forenoon, for example by overly cheery morning greetings or loud, emphatic opening of the curtains, they’d developed a fine working relationship. If Dominic cherished a suspicion that Pargeter regarded him as a work of art, rather than a human being, and himself as the artist, he prudently kept the idea to himself.
‘No, several days ago, apparently. Ah – I take your point, Pargeter. The engagement party was indeed only yesterday, though in my mind it seems to have taken place months ago. The world remains in ignorance of Miss Nightingale’s departure because her identical twin sister has, for reasons I won’t burden you with, taken her place. But she’s also asked for my help in finding her. And I think I must give it.’
‘How are you going to do that, sir, if she isn’t supposed to be missing? Can’t exactly call in the Runners,’ volunteered Jack Fishwick. Jack was a much older, more grizzled man than the young valet, and had known Dominic from the cradle – had taught him to ride his first pony, in fact, and was prone to remind him of it if it seemed he was likely to forget.
‘It’s cursed awkward, Jack,’ Dominic admitted. ‘But I now have a list of servants who’ve left Lord Nightingale’s employ in the last couple of years, and with whom she might conceivably have sought refuge. I need your help, both of you, in making enquiries to see if she’s with one of them. I pray she is. I’m told by a reliable source that she almost certainly hasn’t made for Gretna with some fortune-hunting cub, but I think that’s still worth a little investigation, too – the inns where you’d make your first change of horses seem like the best idea. Barnet, to start with, for the Great North Road, if I give you the date and a description of the young lady. I know I can leave that to you, Jack.’
He grunted. ‘The Mitre, and the Red Lion, and a few others, I dare say. I’ll take it in hand. And what shall I do if I find she did pass through with some young swell on her way to Scotland, sir – send word to you and follow them?’
‘Certainly not. It was days ago, man – they’ll be wed across the anvil by now, or certainly would be by the time you caught up with them.’ Seeing his concerned expression, Dominic said, ‘I’ve no desire to stop her, or drag her back and force her to the altar. What the devil do you take me for? I’ve merely promised her sister I will do all I can to discover her whereabouts and see if she’s safe. I can’t engage myself to do any more. If indeed she has eloped, her father must be told – and there’ll be a hell of an uproar, I dare say, and all of us embroiled in it. Her sister and her aunt are understandably keen to avoid that. But there’s nothing any of us will be able to do to avert it, in the event of a flight to Scotland with all the scandal that implies. I want you to set off as soon as you can have a horse saddled. Five nights ago, late in the evening or in the early morning, and the young lady is tall, blonde and attractive, and very fashionably dressed, I’d imagine. The sort of woman people would remember if they saw her, we must hope. They’d surely suspect an elopement the moment they set eyes on her – anyone would.’
Pargeter, who seemed to be having some difficulty staying still in his seat, said, ‘What shall I do, sir? I am most anxious to help in any way I may.’
His puppyish eagerness almost made Dominic smile as he passed over the list. ‘See if you have friends in any of these households, man. If you do, take it from there.’
The young man’s bright eyes scanned the document. ‘I do, sir, as it happens, in three of the cases. I am acquainted with the valets in two of these houses, and the butler in another.’
‘Good. Then lay out my clothes for tonight, and go. Seek out your friends. Ply them with drink – I’ll cover your expenses, naturally. Keep a clear head yourself, and make enquiries – discreet enquiries, I need hardly add. This is a great deal more important,’ he said as Pargeter hesitated, plainly torn over his conflicting duties, ‘than handing me into my coat for some damn tedious ball. Be off with you both!’
They rose hastily and departed, though Jack shot him a glance from under his bushy eyebrows that promised a more honest and extensive conversation between them when Pargeter, the young upstart, should not be present. But he went, and would perform his task with speed and efficiency, Dominic knew. To make enquiries on the Great North Road was almost certainly a waste of time – but it had to be done. It would be foolish to neglect this most commonplace of explanations for Miss Nightingale’s flight. He hoped she had run off with some plausible young fellow, and that Jack found solid evidence of it – but Mrs Treadwell had been so positive that she had not.
He’d sent a note to his mother at her home in Clarges Street, informing her of Mrs Greystone’s indisposition and of the interesting fact that he’d engaged to take Miss Nightingale to the ball tonight and offered her services as a chaperon. With tongue firmly in cheek, he’d written apologising for speaking on her behalf; he hoped this scheme was agreeable to her nonetheless. His messenger had come rapidly back with an enthusiastic assent, and words of approbation for his conduct over the last couple of days that made him wince. Apparently, he had turned over a new leaf, to his mother’s delight, and appeared to her as a man transformed, and one ready for the responsibilities his marriage would soon bring.
Sooner or later, his fond parent would discover that she was sadly mistaken to think that matters were proceeding excessively well. They were, in fact, viewed purely in the light of his own speedy entry into matrimony, proceeding excessively badly. Though he thought that only a part of the blame could justly be assigned to him, he wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that his mama, once she knew all, disagreed emphatically with this. If he had made more of a push to engage Miss Nightingale’s affections from the outset, he could almost hear her saying… And perhaps she’d be right to think so.
Dominic cursed the restrictions of his position. He too had recognised a few of the names on Mrs Treadwell’s list – he was, unsurprisingly, acquainted with some of the new employers of Lord Nightingale’s former servants. But he could hardly go up to them at White’s or Jackson’s or anywhere else and ask them if, perchance, anyone associated with their household might be sheltering a young lady who bore a striking resemblance to his own fiancée. If he’d actually wanted to create an unholy scandal, that would be the quickest way of stirring it up. He was, until this evening, helpless to do more – and he didn’t place any great dependence on being able to achieve anything then, either, though Miss Margaret plainly had a touching faith in him. It seemed to him that if Miss Nightingale was determined to remain hidden, or if the worst outcome had come to pass and she by now was either dead or in the power of those not kindly disposed towards her, there was very little chance of finding any trace of her, however hard they tried. In comparison, a flight to Gretna Green, even in the company of a fortune hunter, even with all the scandal that would inevitably flow from it, seemed a much more desirable discovery.