Playing with Fire (24 page)

Amanda spoke quickly to Randal. “So just be waiting for me at dawn.”

“I will be there.” He beckoned to James to help him with Tansy’s limp body, and Amanda hurried to open the French windows. They carried Tansy out onto the windblown terrace, and Amanda closed the doors softly behind them. Then she hurried to the bookcase and took out
The Tales of One Thousand and One Nights.

She was about to hurry out into the atrium, where she could hear Martin and Hermione as well as Sir Julian, when her attention was pulled to the desk. The bronze cat had gone. Her cornflower eyes widened fearfully, but there was no time to think any more about it because someone was coming downstairs now. She hurried out toward the atrium, but got no further than the library doorway because Ozzy and Cleo were barring the way. Hissing and spitting, their tails lashing furiously, they crouched as if about to pounce. Startled to see her, Sir Julian and Martin halted on the stairs, while Hermione peered nervously over the balcony.

Ozzy and Cleo redoubled their noise, and Amanda drew back a little, bursting into artful tears. “Oh, Uncle! They’re frightening me!”

Sir Julian spoke sharply to his tomcat. “Ozymandias! Be quiet this instant!”

Ozzy’s ears went back, but his racket subsided. Cleo followed his lead, but they both continued to crouch threateningly.

Amanda whimpered pathetically. “Make them go away, Uncle,” she begged in a small voice.

He waved an arm at the cats. “Off with you!” he snapped.

Ozzy considered defying him, but only for a moment. With a resentful growl he turned and slunk away toward the kitchens. Cleo watched him go, then looked a last time at Amanda, before following the tomcat.

Amanda immediately ran to Sir Julian, who had not stopped to pull on his dressing gown over his nightgown. His nightcap was awry, and his feet were bare, for he had not had time to don his Turkish slippers either. She flung herself into his arms. “Oh, Uncle! I didn’t do anything, truly I didn’t. I…I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to get this book! That’s all, but the cats made such a noise and wouldn’t let me out of the library again.”

He stared at the volume she waved before him. “Oh, my dear….”

“I think they thought I was a thief.” Amanda sniffed and bit her lip. “I’m not. Truly I’m not.”

“No, of course you aren’t, my dear,” Sir Julian replied. “It’s clearly a fuss about nothing, so we’ll all go back to bed.” With his arm around her shaking shoulders, he ushered her past Martin and back up the staircase.

Amanda could not resist glancing back at Martin. Their gazes met, his suspicious, hers alight with triumph. Then she looked ahead once more, and on reaching the landing almost ran into Hermione’s arms.

Martin went slowly up the stairs behind everyone. Where was Tansy? He remembered falling asleep with her in his arms, and guessed she had returned to her own room without disturbing him, but he wished she had awoken now and come out with everyone else. For a moment he almost went to knock at her door, but then thought better of it. She deserved her first good sleep since leaving Constantinople.

So he returned to his own room.

* * * *

Tansy regained consciousness slowly and painfully. She was in complete darkness, and the air was icily cold. Where was she? For a moment she could not think what had happened, but then realized she was lying on a stone floor with her wrists and ankles tied. She tried to twist her hands free, but to no avail. Her head was pounding, and she recalled seeing a strange gentleman stealing and destroying Uncle Julian’s letter; then someone had struck her from behind. Who was it? Who had done this to her?

There wasn’t a sound, except perhaps…. Yes, she could hear the wind playing around the eaves. At least, she presumed it was the eaves. Was anyone near? “Hello?” she called. Her voice echoed eerily.
Hello? Hello? Hello?
“Can anyone hear me?”
Hear me? Hear me? Hear me?
Fear began to steal over her. Was she just going to be left here like this to die?

It was dawn when Martin awoke. As he lay there in the warm bed, thinking of Tansy, he was aware of how much stronger he felt now. He had improved in leaps and bounds ever since he held the bronze cat.

The gray light of early morning filled the room, and as he sat up he saw from the window that the sea was bleak and wintry. A fierce wind blew across the bay, and the leaden waves were flecked with white. The eastern sky was stained blood-red, promising worse weather to come. But the weather vanished from his thoughts as he suddenly realized he could see out. The curtains had been drawn when he’d returned to the room after the disturbance with Amanda, yet now they had been flung open. Another strange thing was that Tansy’s bronze cat stood in the middle of the sill. Who had been in the room? Tansy herself?

Pushing the bedding aside, he got up to go to the window. He was naked, and the fire had burned low in the hearth, so the cool air on his skin made him shiver slightly. But as he picked up the figurine he was again aware of the welcome warmth of the bronze passing through him—no, the welcome
magic
of the bronze passing through him.

There was a movement on the terrace below, and he drew self-consciously back as a cloaked woman hurried to the steps that led down to the open heath. Her hood was raised over her head, and the cloak flapped in the wind. There was something familiar about her. Who was she? A maid keeping an assignation with her sweetheart? Yes, who else could she be? He watched as she ran down the grassy clearings through the bracken, and as she eventually disappeared into the wooded combe, he replaced the figurine on the sill and turned to put on his dressing gown. He had a fancy for a morning cup of strong tea, which the navy had taught him to appreciate, and as he knew the servants would be up and about by now he decided to hie himself to the kitchens.

But as he emerged from his room, he heard Ozzy mewing and saw both cats by Tansy’s closed door. Cleo was scratching urgently at the paintwork, and Ozzy was stretching up to the doorknob, which resisted his best efforts. Why hadn’t Tansy admitted them? She loved cats far too much to exclude them, and surely she could not sleep on when they were making such a fuss at the door. The first finger of true unease began to trace down his spine. There had been no sign of Tansy last night when Amanda went down to the library, and now there was still no sign of her. Was she all right?

He hastened to the door and knocked loudly. “Tansy?” The cats waited expectantly, their ears pricked. There wasn’t a sound from within. “Tansy? Are you awake?” Still there was only silence. Cleo mewed, a plaintive sound that sent the uneasy finger in motion again. Ignoring the niceties of etiquette, Martin flung open the door. The cats rushed into the darkened room as he strode to the windows to fling back the curtains; then he looked at the bed. It was just as Letty had left it the night before, the bedclothes turned neatly back, Tansy’s nightgown and wrap lying in readiness. Ozzy and Cleo jumped onto the bed and paced restlessly, mewing all the while. They were trying to tell him what had happened.

Martin obviously could not understand what they were saying, but he realized instinctively that Tansy had been missing since before Amanda’s exploits during the night. But where was she? What had become of her? He ran an agitated hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind and marshal his thoughts, but then there came the sound of female voices out on the landing. One belonged to Hermione and was striving to be calm; the other belonged to Amanda’s maid, Daisy, and was tearful and upset.

“Just take a deep breath, Daisy,” Hermione was saying. “That’s better. Now then, tell me what is wrong.”

“It…. It’s Miss Amanda!” Daisy cried.

Martin hurried out, and Sir Julian’s door opened across the way. The older man’s head appeared, the tassel of his nightcap falling over his nose. “What in the devil is going on out here?” he demanded.

Hermione continued to speak to the maid. “Do go on dear. What about Miss Amanda?”

“She’s gone!” Daisy wailed, dissolving into more tears.

“Gone? What do you mean, dear?”

“Gone! Run away! Eloped!”

Hermione went pale. “Daisy, if this is some sort of jest….”

“It’s the truth, madam! I wouldn’t lie about it. She told me last night, but I didn’t believe it. Then, when I took her morning tea just now, she’d gone. Her small valise has gone too. Oh, please don’t dismiss me, for it isn’t my fault. I truly believed she was teasing me!”

Sir Julian came hastily around the landing. “Did I hear you say eloped?”

“Yes, Sir Julian.” Daisy managed to bob a curtsy.

“But she hasn’t had time to even
meet
the scoundrel!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Clearly she has, sir. Clearly she has.”

Martin struggled to absorb this new development. The cloaked woman! “I don’t think she has been gone more than a few minutes, sir. I saw a woman in a cloak crossing the terrace, then going down the hill to the woods. There seemed something familiar about her, and I thought she must be one of the maids here, but now that I think again, I realize it was Amanda. I saw her wear that cloak on the
Lucina.”

“Down toward the woods, you say? There’s a lane down there that leads from the turnpike road!” Sir Julian cried. “I’ll have Sanderby’s gizzard for this! So help me I will! I’ll send some men down there immediately, although I imagine they are well away by now.” He strode to the staircase to shout for a footman, but Martin’s next words halted him.

“Sir Julian, I think you should know that Tansy is missing too.”

* * * *

Liza was on the morning stagecoach from Weymouth to Wareham, crammed uncomfortably between a fat, red-cloaked countrywoman with a screaming baby and an equally large farmer who smelled like a cow byre. She craned her neck for the signpost to Chelworth, and it was with some relief that she saw it at last. She stretched across the farmer to lower the window glass and shout to the coachman to stop.

He reined in, and she climbed swiftly down into the cold wind. The dry leaves of an ash tree rustled and shook overhead as she stepped back for the stagecoach to drive on. On a hill about half a mile to the south, seeming almost to pierce the low clouds, was the pyramid she knew belonged to Chelworth. She glanced up at the racing clouds and wondered if perhaps her thirst for revenge upon Lord High-and-Mighty was quite worth all this. But then she remembered that the alternative was to leave him enjoying the title and inheritance, to which he had no right, and her resolve hardened. Holding her cloak around her to keep out as much cold as she could, she set off down the lane as it wound downhill toward the sea.

Soon she came to a narrow path on the right. It led to the pyramid and was little more than a fox or badger track that wound through the windswept gorse and dead bracken. Just then she heard a carriage approaching at breakneck speed. There was something about the sound that made her fear to stay in sight; so she dashed a little way along the path and hid behind a clump of yellow-flowering gorse. She was immediately glad she had, for as the carriage came into view around the corner, she saw it was Randal’s.

Keeping her head down, she watched the vehicle rattle closer. The blinds were down, which made her curious, but as it passed, the blind snapped up and she saw the two occupants. Furthest away was Lord High-and-Mighty himself, but the nearest person was a young lady with golden hair and the loveliest—if sulkiest—profile Liza had ever seen. Liza didn’t doubt that the young lady was Miss Amanda Richardson, for she exactly fitted the description Randal had delighted in boasting of.

The carriage swept on by, and soon its racket was lost in the gusting of the wind. Liza crept out of hiding and returned to the lane. Now why would his lordship be driving like the very devil with his bride beside him? An elopement seemed the most obvious answer.

Liza pulled a face after the now vanished carriage. “You’ll regret it, Miss Richardson,” she murmured. “The fine fellow you’re running off with is only an earl’s by-blow, and
that
won’t get you into Almack’s!”

* * * *

Tansy lay in the relentless darkness. She had hoped there would be a window so the coming of daylight would reveal her surroundings, but nothing had changed. Once or twice she thought she heard seagulls screaming outside, but she wasn’t sure. She had no idea how far away from Chelworth she had been brought, or how long she had been lying here abandoned. All she could be really certain of was the endless moaning of the wind.

The men Sir Julian dispatched to the combe had soon returned with word that the birds had definitely been there, but had now flown. Marks left by a carriage were clear in the muddy lane, but all that had been found was a lady’s scarf made of cat fur. It clearly did not belong to Amanda, who would not have countenanced such an item, but the real owner was a mystery. For the time being it was left on a small console table in the atrium, where it was given a very wide berth indeed by Ozzy and Cleo, whose coats stood on end each time they passed.

The next resort for Sir Julian was to send more riders across country to Bothenbury, in the faint hope that Randal had taken his bride there, but of course there was no one in residence. It was ascertained that Lord Sanderby’s belongings were still at the house, but his person was definitely not. Nor was that of the redheaded female with whom he had been consorting, according to his disapproving cook, who did not hold with such loose conduct.

Sir Julian blamed himself for what had happened, believing he had failed in his responsibilities toward both his nieces. But Amanda’s disappearance was nevertheless not reported to the authorities. It was clear she had not been abducted; therefore to make a noise about her flight could only have a most detrimental effect upon her character. So he decided that this was a time to let sleeping dogs lie, in the hope that all would be well in the end. Although how anything could be “well” when Randal Fenworth was involved, he could not really imagine.