Page 24 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

24

Julia paced across my bedchamber, turned on her heel at the window where I sat, and paced back.

“What are we to do, Gus?” she demanded.

“For the moment, nothing, my dear.” I would have liked to pace alongside her, but it was best if only one of us was in a whirl at a time.

We were not in our customary rooms; Charlotte, with her usual quick wits, had placed us all in the east wing, as far away from Mrs. Ellis-Brant as possible. I had been given the Chart Room, decorated in eggshell blue, with a pretty cornflower paper on the walls, and silk furnishings. More importantly, it looked out upon the stables, and I could see Evan down below in conversation with Porty, whose stringy stature was in stark contrast to my love’s muscular build. Look up, I willed, but of course he did not. One must always temper one’s romanticism with a dose of reality.

A knock upon the door halted my sister’s agitated progress back across the room. Since I had a fair idea who it would be, I said, “Come in.”

As expected, the door opened to admit Lady Hester, supported by Miss Grant. Neither had divested themselves of their outerwear and bonnets, and Lady Hester had wrapped a further two paisley shawls over her pelisse to counter the chill of the hall’s stone walls.

Miss Grant closed the door. “Are we alone?”

“We are, but—”

“You said we would be safe here,” she hissed. “Am I right in thinking that Mrs. Ellis-Brant is the woman who told you about Deele’s search for us? The gossip?” At my nod, she pressed her hand to her forehead. “It is a catastrophe. We cannot risk being here. If she discovers who we are she will tell her husband or Lord Davenport, and they are friends of Deele. They will tell him where we are.”

“We must go now,” Lady Hester said. She swayed upon her feet and Miss Grant tightened her grip upon her beloved’s thin arm. “My brother will take us. He has come here to arrange our travel out of England, after all. Why else would he be here?”

Indeed, why was he here? He was not supposed to be anywhere near us.

I stood and motioned for them to keep their voices down. The Ermine was halfway across the huge house in the drawing room with Charlotte, and I had stationed Weatherly to ensure that the woman, or anyone else for that matter, did not come ferreting around our corridor. Even so, extra caution was always prudent.

“I know it is alarming, but we cannot leave immediately, nor in the company of your brother, Lady Hester,” I said. “It would be too strange and would alert Mrs. Ellis-Brant. She may be a busybody, but she is not stupid. Besides, where would we go? You can barely stand up.”

“We will be discovered,” Hester said, terror in her voice. “Deele will come.”

“There is no reason why Mrs. Ellis-Brant should find out,” I said. “Lady Davenport has prepared the way by telling your story: you are Mrs. Carter, a widow from Bournemouth who has been ill and is convalescing in the company of her sister. It will allow you and Miss Grant to stay out of the woman’s way.”

Julia stepped forward. “Lady Hester, if you tried to leave now—even in the care of your brother and Miss Grant—I fear you would not get far before you collapsed. Remember how hard this journey has been, and it was done in comfort!”

My sister had tried to persuade Hester with the same truth when we were set upon meeting Evan by the roadside, and Hester had not listened then. Nor did she seem to be listening now. At least Miss Grant was considering our words. “I think Lady Augusta and Lady Julia are right, my dear. We cannot go yet.”

“I must see my brother,” Hester said, her mouth set into a mulish line. “I must. He will have plans for us.”

“He did not last time,” Miss Grant muttered.

Hester glanced hard at her companion, something passing between them that I could not catch.

“If you must, I will arrange it,” I said. Although how a gentleman was to privately meet a widow to whom he had just been introduced without causing unwanted interest was, at that moment, a little beyond me. I pushed that problem aside and returned to the matter at hand. “For now, go back to your rooms. Do not come down to dinner if you do not feel safe.”

“You can take a dinner tray,” Julia said. “It will set up a precedent so that you will not need to come from your rooms very often.”

Lady Hester stepped back, out of her beloved’s supportive grip. “But I cannot stay locked in a room…No, no, I cannot.”

“You will not be locked in a room,” Miss Grant said soothingly. “We will walk the galleries and take the air, as you wish. There will be no locks.” She took Hester’s arm again and gently steered her to the door. “Come, we will walk now.”

As Miss Grant opened the door, Hester looked back, her face stony. “If I see Deele again—if he comes for me—I will kill myself. Or I will kill him.”

It was said with such quiet conviction that I was at a loss for words. Miss Grant tucked in her chin; she had heard that grim promise before.

The door closed behind them.

“Dear God, what a mess,” Julia said, digging her fingertips into the bridge of her nose. “I am getting a headache.”

She did indeed look pale. “Have you had something to drink?” I asked. “Maybe you need something to eat too. I can ring for tea.”

“Stop fussing!” She drew a deeper breath. “I am sorry, but I cannot abide fussing.”

“It is not fussing to be worried about you.” Her irritability seemed to be increasing daily. “Go, lie down. The journey has been taxing.”

“Do you really think she would kill herself? Or Deele?” Julia asked.

I did, and my sister saw it in my face.

“God help her,” Julia murmured. “And God help us.”

···

Once Julia had departed, I donned a woolen shawl and made my way out to the stables. I had guessed Evan would be waiting there, and I was right.

He was talking to John Driver with his back to me when I entered the cobbled stable yard, their conversation pitched for privacy. From the way my coachman was nodding, he was receiving instructions. But for what?

The stables and the coach house doors both stood open. Inside the coach house, Charlotte’s pride and joy—an unsuitable perch phaeton with its huge wheels and small double seat—was in prime position, waiting to be hitched on short notice. Inside the stables, the change horses that had brought us here and the Davenport purebreds were being fed in their boxes. I breathed in the familiar and pungent smell of manure and hay. If this had been a normal visit, Charlotte and I would already be planning our rides—including a few illicit gallops astride rather than sidesaddle—and phaeton jaunts around the estate and beyond.

John Driver saw me approach and touched his hat. “Milady.”

Evan turned, his smile a wry acknowledgment of the situation. I smiled back, trying to contain my desire to go straight to him. With remarkable restraint, I directed my attention to my coachman.

“You did well to get here so quickly, John. Thank you.”

“Helped that we had good teams out of Manchester,” he said gruffly. He eyed me and Evan with dawning comprehension—did he feel my longing?—then said, “Well, I’ll be getting along, then, milady.”

He sketched a bow and headed toward the tack room. Good man.

“Come, this way,” Evan said, gesturing for me to follow him into one of the larger outbuildings. He had news; I could tell.

Inside, a large number of hay bales, boxes of winter apples, and grain barrels were stacked in neat order. We made our way farther in, dust motes and tiny pieces of hay flying into the air around us as my gown swept the floor. Evan stopped beside a wall of bales and held out his hands. I took them, wishing I was not wearing gloves. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin.

“I have found Dr. Lawrence,” he said, his excitement palpable. “Well, to be accurate, Dr. McLeod found two Dr. Lawrences: one in London, whom I have already visited and determined is not our man, and one in Blackburn. I have yet to see this Blackburn doctor, but I have every hope he is the right one.”

“Oh, Evan, so close!” I said. “But why are you staying here, at Davenport Hall? It is too dangerous.”

“Not as dangerous as traveling or sleeping rough around here. There are so many militias in the area.”

“I know, I saw them about ten miles from here.”

He nodded. “I only came here to solicit Lady Davenport for a meal and more respectable attire before riding on to Blackburn. But then the militia arrived in force to quell the Luddites. Lady Davenport insisted I stay until they moved on. It seemed like a good idea: my description has been distributed widely among the militia. Besides, it would be unlikely they would ever think I would be staying with the Davenports. Of course, they did not move on, and neither Lady Davenport nor I was expecting Porty or the Ellis-Brants to arrive.”

“Indeed, it is a bad turn. So, you are not planning to take Hester out of the country? She believes you are here to do so.”

“Ah, of course.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Damn, she will see me as failing her yet again, for I see no way to do so safely at present.”

I could not help a moment of relief. Shameful and selfish, but there it was. “Then you had best tell her, Evan. But do so gently. She is in terror of Deele finding her, and the presence of Mrs. Ellis-Brant is compounding that fear. She has threatened to kill him or herself if he tries to return her to an asylum.”

“She voiced such a threat?”

“Yes, and I believe she means it.”

“She probably does. The horror of that asylum is now carved into her mind and body, and it will be with her for the rest of her life.” He stared at the wall behind me, his own past rising within him. I gently touched his arm, drawing him back. He gave me a quick, reassuring smile. “Do not fear, I will tread carefully, and we must ensure her safety, but for now I must focus upon finding Dr. Lawrence. It could be the path to ultimate safety for us all.”

“We must focus upon it,” I said firmly. “I will come too.”

He shook his head. “A level head is needed here, Gus, especially now that we are so crowded. Hester and Miss Grant must be kept calm and safe. It will be better if you manage them and I visit Dr. Lawrence as swiftly as possible.”

“Julia will manage the situation just as well as I can,” I said, ignoring the jab of doubt that followed upon the heels of that assurance; lately my sister had seemed more prone to nervous agitation. Even so, the journey to Blackburn would be made in a day if we pushed ourselves.

“Do you think she is up to it?” he asked.

Ah, he had noticed as well.

“I think so. No, I am sure. Please, do not deny me, Evan. Every time we are parted, I fear it is the last time I will see you.” I looked away, the stark admission heating my face. “Besides,” I said, playing my trump card, “my presence will confound your description as a lone scruffy highwayman, and it will give Dr. Lawrence the assurance of respectability.”

“Little does he know,” Evan murmured. He took my hand and leaned across, his eyes upon my mouth. “If you think Julia can manage the situation here, then we shall finish this together.”

His lips on mine were gentle—still curved into a smile—the kiss raising me onto my toes and into his arms. I pressed myself into his solid strength until the gentleness between us shifted into something far more urgent. All thought narrowed into the sensation of merging into the warmth and scent and sweet taste of his mouth on mine, the heat cascading through me.

“Milady?”

Lud! I flinched at John Driver’s call and jumped back. At the corner of my eye, I saw Evan step behind the stack of hay bales as I quickly wiped the intense moment from my lips.

John Driver appeared at the doorway, Mrs. Ellis-Brant by his side.

Good God, that was close.