The House in Grosvenor Square (31 page)

“No, ma'am. His whereabouts are unknown.”

“Did he say when he would return?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Has he left no message for me?” She was a bit shocked.

“He wishes for you to remain in the house until he returns.”

Ariana nodded. That, at least, made sense. “Freddie, I need a footman or boy to run an errand for me.” He seemed a little nonplussed, so she said, “Is there a problem?”

“No, ma'am—except that these two,” he replied, motioning to her bodyguards, “are not to leave you, and the boy is already out to market for Cook.”

“Surely Mr. Mornay has other footmen,” she said reasonably.

“He took a few men with him, ma'am.”

She turned to the two who had been stationed at her doorway. “One of you must go.”

Frederick cleared his throat. “Ma'am, they would face the master's displeasure if they were to leave you for any errand.”

He seemed to be looking at her pointedly. Not with an ounce of affability, as was his usual attitude. Perhaps she had scandalized the servants by spending the night in the home of her future husband? Oh, dear! Servants with poor attitudes were not to be borne! She wished suddenly to be back at Hanover Square. If Mr. Mornay's footmen must follow her there, so be it. Then she remembered Mr. O'Brien. She had not dismissed Frederick, but he was turning to leave!

“Mr. Frederick!” Now she looked at him with a little asperity. She considered defending herself. She wanted to say, “You must know there was no impropriety in my spending the night here! Mrs. Hamilton herself was beside my bed!” But one did not explain oneself to the servants. They were expected to behave as their station required, regardless of their judgments.

“I will need use of a carriage. A closed carriage. These men may accompany me on back.”

Frederick hesitated. “Ma'am, may I remind you that Mr. Mornay wished—”

“Yes, I know what he wished. I shan't be long.”

The butler cleared his throat. Mr. Mornay had told him in no uncertain terms to keep Miss Forsythe in the house. What was he to do? In a minute his confusion cleared up. It was his part to obey his master—not a future mistress and certainly not one who was intent on parting him from his situation!

“I am afraid, ma'am, that I cannot allow it.”

She opened her mouth a little in surprise. “I am not asking for your permission,” she said, her face flushing with anger. “I am giving you an instruction. Which you
will
obey!” When he still hesitated, she added, “Or shall I go on foot?” She was determined not to allow the servants to think they did not need to respect her wishes, even if she was new to the household and even if they did think she was scandalous! Ariana knew enough of how new households were run to know that if the servants didn't respect you, they would never be in line. They had to know from the outset who was in charge.

Frederick looked at her for a minute, but his face grew unsettled, and he dropped his eyes.

“As you wish, ma'am.” He was not going to fight the woman. He had tried to obey his master's orders, but Miss Forsythe had seen fit not to. It wasn't his fault.

“You may inform Mr. Mornay, if he returns, that I have gone to Bland-ford Street to check on Mr. Peter O'Brien's condition.”

In a few minutes, Ariana was being handed into a small, closed carriage by a footman. He put up the steps and jumped on back, beside the other liveried servant, and the vehicle began moving away from the curb. Once they were out in traffic, Ariana finally relaxed and thought to pray.
Why are the servants at Grosvenor Square suddenly so off-putting? By rights they should be eager to see to my comfort. It is beyond the pale the way Mrs. Hamilton has kept me waiting with no word for so many minutes. And then Frederick didn't even come to my room when he was expressly requested to do so.
She had not mentioned these gaffes to the servants, not wanting to appear too particular, but when Frederick had challenged her authority—that was too provoking!

She forced her mind to calm down and started to pray for them. She
prayed that, yes, her relations with the servants of her new house would be affable. That Mr. Mornay, whatever he was doing, was safe and sound. That she would find Mr. O'Brien well on his way to recovery and not in mortal danger.

The drive went fast, and soon she was alighting in Blandford Street with the two footmen around her like a king's guard. As she approached the front door, she wondered briefly what had prevented Lavinia from coming to her. Then the door was opened by an aged manservant who took her card and welcomed her inside.

Ariana hoped she would see Beatrice while she was here. The servants she would worry about another time.

L
ord Antoine slowed the horses and drew his curricle to the curb. Miss Herley was much restored from her ordeal and had been smiling, but now her smile faltered. She was home, and she was happy to be home, but it would mean having to say goodbye to Antoine.

The young man climbed down, tied his horses to a post on the street, and then came around and handed Lavinia down. They eyed each other a moment. She smiled shyly.

“My parents will be surprised that I am returned home.”

“I hope you will tell them that I helped bring you back.”

“Oh, yes! They must know of it!”

They slowly moved toward the front door, just looking at each other very wistfully as they spoke.

“Do you think, perhaps, they may allow me to call upon you?”

“Please do! I'm sure when they comprehend just how central you have been to my safe return, they cannot do otherwise but welcome you.”

“I hope you are right,” he said awkwardly. They had reached the door. “Allow me to see that you enter your home safely.”

Pleased, Lavinia turned, lifted the knocker, and rapped it firmly two times against the wood of the door. It was already afternoon—her nightmare had lasted less than one day, but it felt much longer. She glanced at her companion and then away again and then back again. She was desperately hoping he'd say something more, something that would sound like marriage intentions. When noises from within indicated that time was short, something in Lord Antoine's brain clicked—he was running out of time. He grasped her hand. “My dear Miss Herley—Lavinia! Know that you are in my heart. When I can offer you a comfortable arrangement as my…”

She held her breath. He was about to offer for her! But the door latch was opened, and it creaked and swung wide. And there was the family servant, Hobbes, looking at the pair.

Lord Antoine bowed slowly and then walked away. “God bless you!” were his last words.

Lavinia watched him go with full eyes and much regret. She hoped he would call upon her soon. She had asked him to go to Hanover Square to give news of her safe return and then to Grosvenor Square. Mrs. Bentley and Ariana must be wild with worry on her account. Antoine was so good to allay their fears by calling upon them! She hoped that Mrs. Bentley would not be too distraught that she had not been able to serve as chaperone— but what could she do? After the fright of her abduction, she simply
had
to return home.

Around four thirty in the afternoon, there was a knock at the door at Hanover Square, and when Haines opened it to a young man of dubious appearance (shabby genteel at best) he said nothing but merely raised his brow at the man.

“I must see Mrs. Bentley,” he said. “I have a message for her from Miss Herley.”

This statement earned him an immediate entrance to the house, where he was told to wait in the hall. Despite the young man's lack of a calling card, Haines was given his name—Lord Antoine. Realizing Mrs. Bentley was asleep, Haines went directly to the man appointed by the local constable, who was in the kitchens at the moment, eating heartily, having hit it off famously with Cook.

When he gave the name of the young man, the officer stopped eating abruptly, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and sprang to his feet.

“The blackguard himself! He has the nerve to show up here!” The man cocked his weapon, spoke some words into Haines's ear, and then the men proceeded cautiously back toward the young lord, who was waiting with no clue of what was coming.

Haines assembled a few of the footmen and gave instruction to rush round the house to block the front entrance—the young man's only means of escape. In minutes they had him in custody. He protested violently, but he was severely outnumbered and handcuffed.

“Miss Herley is safe at her house!” he cried. “I brought her there myself!”

“Indeed! After abducting her? You'll tell it to the magistrate, sir!”

“This is deuced unfair!” he said. “I came at Miss Herley's request to inform Mrs. Bentley of her friend's safety! Am I to be treated as a criminal? When I am the one who saved her?”

The butler and the officer looked at each other. Neither man believed him.

“You knew where she was to save her. I call that convenient.” This was said dryly by the official.

“Ask Miss Herley herself!” he cried. “Ask Mr. Chesley! They will verify my innocence in this matter!”

The officer said to Haines, “Send word to Grosvenor Square, will you? Mr. Mornay will wish to know that I have one of the trouble-making pair in custody.”

“Why, Miss Forsythe!” Mrs. O'Brien sounded much surprised. “I never dreamed of seeing you out and about. My son told us what happened last night. My poor gel, you must be dreadfully fagged!”

“I am sure I feel far better than your son, ma'am.” she answered smiling gently. Her expression changed to one of concern. “How badly is Mr. O'Brien injured? I am aware of how unusual it is to call upon a gentleman, but my sister is staying here, and I had to know his condition. I am fully conscious of the fact that his injury was sustained on my account.”

“Oh, my child, not at all. Peter has confessed his foolishness to me, and I am convinced you are the last person in the world who can be blamed in the matter.”

“You are very kind.”

Mrs. O'Brien smiled and led Ariana toward the stairs saying, “His wound is rather severe, but it is well dressed and the doctor assures us that with proper rest and a strict regiment of changing the dressing—to encourage the noxious elements that may have contaminated his blood to come out, you know—he should be fine, given time.” She stopped and turned to face her guest. “We said nothing to your sister about your abduction, knowing how frightfully upsetting such news would have been. We told her Mr. O'Brien sustained an injury trying to put a stop to fighting on the street.”

“That was thoughtful of you. Thank you. Now that I'm safe and sound, I suppose we can tell her the truth.”

“Yes, but I sent her and Alice out with Miss O'Brien for the day. They are to take in some shopping and visit a park or garden. I thought it would be beneficial for Mr. O'Brien to have quiet at home.”

“Of course.” As they progressed through the house, Ariana hoped that what she would see of Mr. O'Brien would help relieve her fears for him, not exacerbate them. They reached the first floor drawing room where the invalid was resting comfortably, propped in a half-prone position on a sofa, with many pillows and blankets cocooning him. His head was wrapped in cloths, giving him the appearance of a wounded soldier. Hair hung limply beneath the dressing, and his face was pale. His eyes were closed, and he looked sadly frail.

“My dear, you have a visitor,” said his mother.

His eyes fluttered open. “Miss Forsythe!” He gave a weak smile.

Ariana went and stood close by the sofa so that she could speak gently. She put her reticule on a little table near his head. “Mr. O'Brien, I came to tell you how dreadfully sorry I am for your having taken such a nasty blow on my account.”

“Oh, my dear Miss Forsythe,” he said looking embarrassed, “when it was all my doing and resulted in danger to your own person, I pray you, not another word about it. I am exceedingly grateful that you are safe!”

His voice was not at its usual strength, and she noted that his face, though pale, bore dark rings beneath his eyes.

“You must know,” he said, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, “that my mother and Miss O'Brien are attending to me handsomely. I feel as though I've reverted to childhood. You needn't add your own efforts to theirs, or I shall have no desire to recover whatsoever—being indisposed garners me the most felicitous female attention I can recall having the good fortune to receive.”

She let out a little laugh. “I am sure you quite deserve and require it,” she returned.

“Please, have a seat.” He took a cup of tea from his mother, though his hand seemed to shake a little, and then he eyed her again. “My mother took the notion into her head that she might have lost me.” He stopped and gave his mother a patient, affectionate look. “She was, I dare say, overly alarmed, and then the doctor only added to her fears by insisting I was liable to catch my death, not from the wound itself, but from the danger of infection.”

“Oh, dear!” Ariana grew pale and looked at Mrs. O'Brien in alarm.

“Don't be alarmed, Miss Forsythe,” Mr. O'Brien said, seeing her face fall. “I am young and strong and have every hope of recovering, I assure you. Indeed, I can expect nothing less because my heart tells me that God has work for me to do yet in this life.”

Mrs. O'Brien added, “We will know his prospects of a full recovery better tomorrow when Mr. Henderson returns and removes the bandaging.”

“I see,” Ariana said.

Mrs. O'Brien poured Ariana a cup of tea. She took a little sip, but could not help but stare sadly at Mr. O'Brien. Far from feeling reassured by this visit, her worries were stronger than ever. “Well, I shan't stay and weary you, sir. You need your rest.”

“Do not go,” he said quickly and tried to sit up but winced and put his hand to his head. She looked at him sorrowfully.

Mrs. O'Brien said, “Miss Forsythe, my son is glad of your company. I pray you, stay a bit longer. I warrant you are a tonic of health for him.”

“Last night I was quite the opposite,” she said ruefully, but out of politeness she decided to stay a little longer. The parlourmaid came in and curtseyed. “Beggin' yer pardon, mum. There's a fine gentleman at t'door t'see you, mum.”

“Oh?” The mistress of the house looked in surprise at her son. “Are you expecting a gentleman friend of yours?”

“No. I suppose it's possible that word has spread of my injury, however.”

The maid curtseyed again. “It's you, mum, he be wantin' to see.”

“Indeed. Very well.” She looked at Ariana. “Excuse me, Miss Forsythe. I'll be back directly.” But she hesitated before going and asked, “My dear, would you be so kind? He only needs you to hand him the cup, so that he doesn't strain himself reaching. The doctor insisted he wasn't to strain himself at all.”

“Oh, of course.” Ariana hurried from her seat and took the place where his mother had been, realizing belatedly that it was going to feel awkward. Mr. O'Brien may have been injured, but he wasn't helpless. Yet how could she refuse to see to his comfort? She took the seat where his mother had been, near the patient's head. A little table had been pulled up too, so that everything was handy.

“Would you be so kind?” he asked, with a nod at the cup of tea on the table.

She handed him the teacup. He took it gratefully, sipped the warm tea, and gave it back momentarily. It was just about empty.

“Shall I refill it for you?”

“Please.”

She poured him another cup from the teapot and handed it to him carefully. He touched her hand on the cup as he took hold of it. Had it been an accident? Ariana was too embarrassed to say anything about it.