The Hopeless Hoyden (19 page)

             
“Over here, Freddy," Deborah's voice cooed.  “Come closer.  I have something for you.”             

             
What was the conniving witch up to now, Emily wondered.

             
“No, no.  You've the wrong idea.  Ain't here for that."  There was no mistaking the note of panic in the baron's voice.  “Thought you said you heard noises?"

             
“Oh, I did and was quite frightened...all alone...all by myself.  Come here, darling."

             
Emily might not have understood Deborah's motive, but she'd been exposed to enough drawing room gossip to know the game and meant to spoil it.  Without knocking, she barged in, then pulled up short.

             
The scene was comic as both occupants turned to face the door.  By the glow of a small fire, Emily saw Freddy's terrified expression from where he stood in a heavy brocade robe next to Deborah, draped across a chaise lounge, clad in an indecent gossamer gown.  The dark beauty's smile resembled that of a tigress about to devour her prey rather than a seductress.  In one hand extended toward Freddy, Deborah held a crystal goblet filled with amber liquid while her other hand clutched his sleeve.  Closing the door behind her, Emily was suddenly seized with a fit of giggles.

             
After a moment, Deborah joined in Emily's mirth with a half convincing laugh.  “Oh dear, Freddy, I fear we have been caught.  And Cecil will not care for this, not at all," she added archly.

             
Emily sobered instantly upon hearing Caldwell's hated name.  “What nonsense," she scoffed, taking a step further into the room.  “You lured Freddy in here."

             
The exposed portion of Deborah's bosom expanded with the beauty's angry intake of breath.  “I did no such thing."
              “No?"  Emily shrugged her shoulders.  “Whom do you think they will believe?"

             
“How dare you," Deborah railed.  “What are you doing in my room, anyway?"              

             
Freddy, who was slowly showing sings of reviving, tugged his arm free from Deborah's hold and gave Emily a weak smile. “Glad to see you, Em."

             
“I’ll wager you are," Emily replied with another giggle, which she quickly stifled when his face fell.

             
“Said she needed help, she did."  Freddy's woebegone expression proved he thought himself neatly comprised.

             
“Really?"  Emily's eyebrows raised in dubious query.  “And just what sort of help did you have in mind, Cousin Deborah?"

             
“None of your damn business," Deborah hissed, yanking on the thin strap of her gown that had slipped off her bare shoulder.

             
Walking over to the bed, Emily picked up a white silk wrapper and held it out to the other girl.  “You must be cold."

             
Deborah snatched the robe from Emily while leveling a malevolent look at her.  “Get out."

             
“You know, Freddy," said Emily, gesturing with one hand that he follow her out the door, “it was very sweet of you to come to a lady's aid."

             
“Think so?" he asked, scurrying for the door.  “Might turn over a new leaf.  Stay out of trouble that way."

             
Out in the hall, Freddy firmly closed Deborah's bedroom door just as a loud crash came from within.

             
A worried frown furrowed Freddy's unusually smooth brow as he rubbed the arm Deborah had abused.  “Think she's all right?"

             
“Care to find out?" asked Emily mischievously.

             
“Eh?"  For a moment the creases in the baron's brow deepened, then cleared.  “No.  Don't really care, either." 

             
“I think you ought to avoid Miss Caldwell's company for a while, Freddy."

             
“Think so, too.”

             
“She is not as kind as Jane Taber," Emily could not resist adding for good measure.

             
“No, she ain’t."

             
“Good night, Freddy.  See you in the morning."

             
As Emily turned toward her room, Freddy impulsively bent down and bussed her on the cheek.  “Thanks, Em," he said, and sauntered down the hall.

             
Momentarily stunned, Emily stared after the baron's rotund figure until he entered his room.  As she was turning back to her own chamber, a second door clicked shut.  She spun around, her eyes trying to pierce the gloom.

             
Now who was spying on them, she wondered.

###

              While the warm, sunny weather held, everyone looked forward to an excursion including an alfresco lunch at the ruins of Hailes Abbey.  Again, the two older ladies saw no need to chaperone the group.  Lady Raines could find nothing stimulating in visiting a pile of crumbling rocks, and Lady Spivey felt she could relax her vigil now that Emily was engaged.               

             
“Prudence is such a good girl," Aunt Esmeralda postulated.  “The dear girl has never been one to cause the least trouble.  And besides, what sort of mischief could Emily get into on such an innocuous outing."

             
While Pickering oversaw the loading of a cart with servants, silver, plate and an elaborate luncheon to be sent ahead to the Abbey grounds, Gabriel stood in the stable yard, watching Gresham and the grooms mount his guests.               

             
Gabriel was anxious to see Emily.  He'd been worried about her since Cecil's nasty tongue had precipitated her retiring early.  When he went to bed, Gabriel half expected his beloved would be lying in wait for him and was acutely disappointed that she wasn't. 

             
He glanced over to where Emily stood with Freddy in deep discussion and was about to ask those two what was forward when Sylvia slipped her arm through his, neatly trapping him by her side.  Though Gabriel was heartily sick of the blond beauty, good manners demanded he play the attentive host.  Besides, he thought, his betrothed didn't seem at all bothered by Sylvia's interest in him.

             
Emily espied Sylvia tripping over to Gabriel.  After the last couple of days, Emily wanted nothing more than to plant the girl a facer.  Unfortunately, she couldn't desert Freddy, not when he'd begged her to stay by his side and shield him from his nemesis, Deborah Caldwell.  What the baron feared from Deborah in the light of day was beyond Emily's ken.               

             
Still, Emily understood that Sylvia still harbored hopes of becoming Gabriel's viscountess.  And Emily recalled that more than one debutante in London had stated that nothing was a
fait accompli
until the actual vows were said.  Or, as one crusty old gent once crudely put it, "There is many a slip betwixt the lip and the troth,". . . or something akin to that.               

             
“Thanks, Em." Freddy said for the umpteenth time.

             
Emily glanced over at Freddy.  “Best not to say anything more about it, Freddy."             

             
Once everyone was mounted, the baron drew his mount up with Ellison’s.  Emily soon found herself riding behind the others where Jane fell back to join her.  As they rode through the countryside, Emily kept up a steady flow of chatter about the occupants of the farms and tenant cottages they passed.  After a while, she noted Jane's reticence and subsided into a companionable silence, content to enjoy the scenery with her friend at her side.

             
A short while later, Jane, who'd been eying the group ahead of them, turned to Emily.  “Are you familiar with Shakespeare’s
Hamlet
.”  When Emily nodded, Jane said, “Well, I feel like Rosencrantz or Guildenstern in that play.  Sylvia instructed me to keep an eye on you and the Viscount. So you see, I cannot share any confidences with you.  I am to report every detail of what you do and say back to her."

             
“Is that why you have been talking to me lately?"  At Jane's stricken look, Emily produced a devilish grin.  “Well, it would be a shame to disappoint Sylvia."  And with that, Emily merrily began to spin tale after tale of romantic rendezvous with a besotted Viscount, first behind the drapery in the library, then a late night meeting in the kitchen with glasses of warm milk where they supposedly discussed her role as mistress of five different estates (though Emily was quick to confide she had no idea of the extent of Gabriel's holdings, purely for Jane's edification). 

             
But what sent Jane into gales of laughter was Emily's recount of a late night encounter with the Viscount in his study to shift though the family jewels, locked in a box the size of a treasure chest. 

             
“That ought to make the cat turn green," Emily concluded, glad to see her friend's dismals replaced with mirth.  But while Emily laughed with Jane, her heart ached, knowing that her tale tales would never have a chance of becoming truths.

             
At the ruins, the party discovered a collation of cold cuts, cheeses and breads with jugs of lemonade and wine already set out by the servants.  While the grooms tended the horses, the party situated itself on quilts spread upon a grassy knoll.  When Gabriel pointedly singled Emily out to sit by her, she became aware of Sylvia's malevolent stare. 

             
Suddenly Emily felt depressed, for it appeared everyone, including herself, was playacting.  Thus, at the first opportunity when Gabriel was engaged in conversation with Chesterfield, Emily excused herself to explore the grounds of the once magnificent abbey.

             
Emily never tired of visiting the ruins and the seventeen cloister arches of Hailes Abbey.  She climbed to the top of one stone arch that once stood as part of a covered walkway and gazed down on the rough foundation of limestone quarried from the area.  It was easy for Emily, centuries later, to envision rows of cowled monks, noiselessly traversing the covered walks to vespers.               

             
“At one time, this ancient relic was probably a sight to behold even for a jaded pallet like mine," Cecil said, coming up behind her. 

             
Emily had been unaware of Cecil's ascent up the mound of stone arch.  His mere presence cast a pall over the serene scene, desecrating it in some way.  Still, she made an effort to be polite. 

             
“Yes, what a shame it was destroyed."

             
“Do you think so?  I thought Henry VIII rather tardy in starting the Dissolution of the Monasteries.  After all, what good could all those treasures be to monks who'd taken a vow of poverty?"

             
“Do you not remember why this abbey was built?"

             
“Indeed, it was Richard, King of the Romans, Earl of Cornwall, and brother of Henry III, who built the abbey in keeping with a vow he'd made when he thought the ship he sailed would sink off the Sicily Isles.  ‘Tis no more than another example of some wretched soul trying to buy his way into heaven."

             
“I fear you are much too cynical."

             
“I prefer to see myself as being more honest than most," Cecil countered with an odd smile.  “The only ones who truly benefited from Richard's folly were the peasants who looted the abbey of its stone and used it to build their homes."

             
“Perhaps," she replied, not wanting to argue.  She gingerly stepped around him to make her way down the craggy, makeshift stairs.               

             
The arch was barely two feet wide, and Emily was concentrating on her descent.  Cecil, who remained a mere step behind her, stepped on the train of her habit, throwing her off balance.               

             
She made a desperate attempt to turn and clutch at something, anything, to save herself.  Then, a blow to the small of her back propelled her forward. 

             
Arms failing, she pivoted on her toes, trying to regain her balance, and saw Cecil in her peripheral vision, retreating a step toward the top of the arch.  She reached out.  The fingers of one hand snagged the hem of Cecil's jacket, and she clung for dear life.  Her weight, however, pitched him forward.  For a moment it looked like both of them would tumbled to their deaths.   But Cecil regained his footing.  Rearing back on his heels, he took her arm and brought her back with him.               

             
Once safe, Cecil tried to pry Emily's hand loose while shoving her toward the ledge.  Emily fought desperately to ward him off.  She threw a punch with her other hand, which connected with his face.  Cecil appeared stunned and lost his balance.  Together, they toppled backwards in a heap on the narrow stone crest.