The Chocolate Debutante (19 page)

He dodged to the right as Sir Thomas fired at him and then he strode forward and punched him hard on the jaw and Sir Thomas slumped to the floor.

“Carry him out to the carriage,” he ordered, “as if he were drunk. Once you have him in the carriage, bind him and gag him.”

Ten days later, Sir Thomas, still bound and gagged, was lying in a smelly cabin on board the
Mary Belle
, sailing for America. The captain had orders to free him only when the ship was well out at sea.

The earl sighed with relief. Harriet and London waited for him. He was only sorry he had missed Susan’s wedding.

The evening before the wedding day, Harriet, Susan, and Charles were seated in the drawing room. Harriet was relieved that the rehearsal had gone smoothly, although Mrs. Colville had burst into tears, then fainted, and had to be carried out of the church. Susan had been a trifle ripe smelling, not having bathed for some time, but Harriet reflected that the besotted Charles did not seem to mind, and besides, most of London society were smelly anyway.

The butler entered and said, “I beg pardon, ma’am, but there is a villain demanding audience.”

Harriet looked amazed. “Then call the watch or send him away.”

“He says Miss Susan will be eager to see him. His name is Jack Barnaby.”

“This is awkward,” said Harriet. “I trust the fool has not fallen in love with you, Susan.”

“This Mr. Barnaby,” said the butler, “has a woman with him, a slattern.”

“He has brought his doxy with him,” said Susan with a gurgle of laughter. “Do show them up.”

“I wish Dangerfield was here,” sighed Harriet. “I fear your villain is about to demand money.”

Jack came into the drawing room, dragging a tousled-haired creature behind him. “This here’s Maggie,” he said, giving her a push forward. Maggie stared about her in awe.

“State your business,” said Harriet coldly.

She waited for him to demand money, but his next words surprised her.

“I want to get respekkible,” he said.

“Respectable?” echoed Harriet.

“What are we supposed to do?” asked Susan, wide-eyed.

“Well, miss, when we was drinking gin, you told me you was going to get married and your fellah had a tidy property in the country.”

“So?”

“So I was thinking that mayhap you had a liddle cottage for me and Maggie to get spliced and bring up kids.”

“What kind of work could you do?” asked Charles, finding his voice.

“I’m strong and so’s Maggie. Anyfink.”

Susan turned to Charles, her eyes shining. “You could find something, could you not?”

“You are right in that I have my own estate,” said Charles. “I… I…”

Susan whispered in his ear. “I will kiss you all over when we are married.”

Charles turned fiery red and said, “Yes, of course. My direction is Comfrey Hall, near the village of Tupton Magna. Wait, I will give you a note for my steward.”

He crossed to the writing desk and began to scribble busily.

Susan sighed. “Is he not a true gentleman?”

Charles finished, sealed the note, and handed it to Jack.

“I am doing this for my betrothed,” he said severely. “You must never return to villainy.”

Jack nodded in Susan’s direction. “We’ll serve her till the day we die.”

“Very well,” said Charles, highly embarrassed, “take yourself off.”

When they had gone, Harriet said, “Much as I love you, Susan, I can hardly wait for tomorrow, when you will be Charles’s responsibility and not mine.”

Susan’s wedding was voted a great success. Never had there been a more beautiful bride, vowed society. The crowning success was Mrs. Colville, who cried loudly and noisily throughout, just as a mother ought to do.

Harriet was amused to hear Lady Tasker sigh, “In these wicked days, it is still very moving to see such a beautiful, pure-minded girl going to the altar.”

But finally it was all over. Susan had gone off with her husband to Dorset, and the following day Mrs. Colville, who said that the noise of London was sorely affecting her nerves, departed for the country, taking husband and children with her.

And all at once Harriet’s life was quiet and ordered again and she thought she might die of boredom.

As the days passed, she began to wonder if she would ever see Lord Dangerfield again. She had found out his first name was Robert and repeated it over and over again. She could not find solace in reading books and spent a great deal of time standing on the balcony overlooking Berkeley Square, hoping all the while to see a tall, red-haired man driving up.

One afternoon she was leaving Hatchard’s bookshop in Piccadilly, when she suddenly saw him. He was seated on the box of his traveling carriage with a groom beside him.

Blind to the conventions, she stood on the pavement and shouted, “Robert!” at the top of her voice.

He looked down, saw her, and reined in his horses. She ran up to the carriage. “Get inside,” the earl ordered his groom, and reaching down, he held out his hand. Harriet seized it and he lifted her up onto the box beside him.

“Oh, Robert,” sighed Harriet. “I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see you again!”

“My darling.” He bent his head and kissed her while from behind him a coachman screamed to “Get a move on.”

Several passersby began to cheer.

Attracted by the commotion, Miss Barncastle, Miss Carrington, and Miss Teale stopped to stare.

“Harriet is a fallen woman,” said Miss Barncastle.

“She can’t be a fallen woman,” said Miss Teale with a pinched look on her face. “Her forthcoming marriage to Dangerfield has been announced.”

“Well,” said Miss Barncastle, tossing her head, “you’d never find me allowing any gentleman to kiss
me
in public.”

“As no gentleman is ever likely to kiss you or any of us in public or anywhere else,” said Miss Carrington, “you are hardly likely ever to be in the same situation.”

It was at least a month before either Miss Barncastle or Miss Teale could bring themselves to speak to Miss Carrington again.

“The wonderful thing,” said Miss Harriet Tremayne later, when she was seated on the earl’s knees in her own drawing room, “is that because there is no one to chaperone
me
, I can do as I like. Now, tell me what you did with Sir Thomas.”

“I and my servants took him to Dover and put him on a ship bound for America. He will be landed in Virginia, where I have good connections. He will find it hard to leave.”

“How frightened I was that day in Exeter ’Change,” said Harriet. “And yet Susan was so brave. A remarkable young miss.”

“She is so enamored of young Courtney, she has even given up gorging herself on sweetmeats, or so you tell me.”

“That was until the wedding breakfast. I went abovestairs to help her prepare for her departure, and she was dreamily eating chocolates and some chocolate was melted down the front of her wedding gown.”

“People never really change.”

“Except that villain Jack. In retrospect, I find it quite moving the way he had decided to reform.”

“I hope for the sake of Charles Courtney’s silverware that he has.” The earl was about to add that he doubted it very much, but Harriet began to kiss him and loosen his cravat and so he promptly forgot about everything else.

One bright moonlit night a month later, Jack Barnaby headed through the park toward Comfrey Hall. Susan and Charles were entertaining guests at a dinner party and his “wife,” Maggie, he knew, was on duty in the scullery.

He made his way softly to the kitchen quarters and looked in the window. Maggie was in the scullery, wearing a print gown and mobcap. She was scrubbing dishes. He rapped gently on the window and she looked up and saw him, took a quick look around, and then jerked her head toward the kitchen door.

As he reached the door, she opened it and slipped outside. “Sick o’ this life, Jack,” she said, taking off her cap and shaking out her hair.

“Me, too,” he growled. “Bin out in the fields all day.”

“I miss the Rookeries, Jack,” she whined. “Mrs. Courtney says all the servants have to learn as how to read and write. Never had no learning. Why start now?”

“Come on,” said Jack, starting to walk away.

“Where?”

“Lunnon.”

She gasped. “Just like that?”

“Got me bag hidden at the outer wall.”

She walked after him as she had walked after him through the Rookeries, several paces behind.

They came to the outer wall, where he picked up a heavy bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“They was ever so kind to us, Jack,” said Maggie. “You didn’t steal nuffin’ from ’em, did you?”

“As if I would,” jeered Jack.

And as he strolled off down the road in the moonlight, the heavy weight of Charles Courtney’s best silver candlesticks clinked with a comfortable sound against his back.