Wedding of the Season (28 page)

“For heaven’s sake, if you and Sunderland want to marry, all well and good, I suppose, but why can’t you do it in the proper way?”

“There’s no time. He got a cable while he was in London. They may have found Tut’s tomb and he has to go back now or they’ll open the thing without him.”

“Carter found Tut?” Paul asked, momentarily diverted, and when she nodded, he gave a low whistle. “So Will was right.”

“Yes. And I’m going with him, and I’m going to do the illustrations for Marlowe’s newspaper.”

Paul swallowed hard, clearly trying to think out what this would mean. “There’ll be a deuce of a scandal. But you know that, of course.”

“Yes, I know. I don’t care. I’m catching that train at noon. If you choose to stop me, I’ll just find another way to leave when nobody’s looking and I’ll follow Will to Egypt alone.”

“Why are you even telling me, then?” he demanded. “Do you realize the position you’re putting me in? I, and my mother, too, will be universally condemned for not watching over you better.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. We didn’t plan this, but if it’s any consolation, the condemnation won’t last forever. We will marry as soon as we can. Will applied to the archbishop for a special license, but there’s no time to go back to London and pick it up. We have to be on the noon train out of Stafford St. Mary to make the connection straight to Dover, so that we can be in Paris by tomorrow night to catch the Orient Express. We’ll be married on the ship, or at the British Consulate in Thebes.”

She paused only long enough to take a breath. “I’m telling you all this because someone has to send us the special license, in case we decide to marry in Thebes, which would be nice, since that way I can at least have a proper wedding.”

“That you can even use the word
proper
in this context amazes me.”

“And I’m telling you because I don’t want my maid to suffer for what I’m doing, so you’ll need to see to it she finds new employment. And someone will have to pick up the Daimler in the village after I’m gone, and you know how to drive. I can’t just leave it at the train station until spring.”

“Wait. You want me to
help
you elope?”

She bit her lip and nodded, giving him an apologetic look. “Cheeky, I know.”

“Cheeky
doesn’t begin to describe it!” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair, glaring at her. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re not marrying a clerk or a land agent. And after what I saw at Pixy Cove, I’m not really all that surprised. But if the wedding doesn’t come off when you reach Egypt, you’ll be ruined utterly. You realize that?”

“I know.” She gave her cousin a rueful smile. “And I haven’t had much luck actually getting to the altar, have I? But sometimes, to be happy in life, we just have to put love before anything else. I thought perhaps you would understand.”

His expression hardened. “I don’t know why you should think I would understand that, for love has not made me the least bit happy.” He paused, then added in a softer tone, “Still, I’m not like Uncle James, Trix. I’m not going to stop you.”

“Thank you.”

He stood up. “I’ll keep Mum distracted this morning so she won’t know about any of this until you’re gone and it’s too late to kick up a fuss. But you’d better be married within the month, cousin, or there will be hell to pay.”

“Thank you, Paul. And you might want to consider taking a holiday yourself.” She turned and ran for the door, but with her hand on the knob, she stopped. “I’ve heard Newport’s lovely this time of year.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but ducked out the door and closed it behind her.

W
ill stood at the platform of Stafford St. Mary’s train station. The train had arrived from Brixham a few minutes early and was standing idle, its steam engine hissing as it waited for noon to arrive so that it could leave this tiny village and go on to Exeter. Will checked his watch. It was eleven forty-five.

He didn’t know why he was bothering to verify the time. He ought to just board the train and take his seat.

Instead, he walked to the end of the platform and stared down the road toward Stafford St. Mary and the land of Danbury Downs that stretched out beyond it, thinking of when he’d first arrived and how alien the rolling hills, hedgerows, and pastures had seemed. It didn’t seem alien now; it seemed like home. Trix was here.

He turned away and started back down the platform, for it hurt to look at the pastures and fields of home, it hurt to know he was leaving without her. Most of all, it hurt that she’d left him this morning without even saying good-bye.

Yet how could he be surprised by that? She hated good-byes. And she’d already made it clear she wasn’t going to come with him. Hell, he hadn’t even succeeded in getting her to admit she still loved him.

He’d pushed her too hard, he supposed, and she’d balked. He didn’t blame her. He obviously hadn’t earned her trust. And even if she had agreed to marry him, she had every right to demand a lengthy engagement. Asking her to elope because he didn’t have time to marry her properly in her own parish was well beyond the pale. He knew all that.

He stopped and pulled out his watch again. Eleven-fifty.

He probably ought to board the train. There was no point in standing down here. Tucking the watch back in his waistcoat pocket, he started back down the line of train carriages to the one that contained his compartment.

He’d write to her every day, he vowed. And he’d tell her what they’d discovered. He’d send photographs, too. Perhaps he could come home at Christmas, but that was unlikely, since two months wouldn’t be nearly long enough to excavate the tomb properly. But even if he couldn’t get away at Christmas, he could perhaps be here by March. If she’d have him then, he’d take her to Florence for a honeymoon. She’d always wanted to go there. She’d never wanted to go to Egypt.

The first train whistle blew, telling those boarding that they had five minutes.

“All aboard,” the conductor shouted. “All aboard for Exeter.”

Slowly Will walked to his compartment. Through the window, he could see Aman discussing the placement of their luggage with the porter. He grasped the brass handlebar along the side of the doorway and stepped up, then paused and turned, thinking to take one last look at Stafford St. Mary, but from this angle, the station was between him and any view of the village, and he turned away again and boarded the train.

He’d gambled and lost, and it would be eight months before he could roll the dice again. But he would. After all, he had a gambler’s heart.

P
aul had dragged Geoff down to the tennis court, insisting that Eugenia come and watch them play, leaving the field clear for Beatrix, and she managed to spirit her two suitcases and hatbox out to the stable without anyone seeing her. She lifted the suitcases into the Daimler’s boot, shoved her hatbox between them, and secured everything with a bit of rope. A few minutes later, she was speeding down the lane she’d been viewing through the same bedroom window her whole life, leaving the home she loved, and the family she loved, and the country she loved. But she didn’t pause to look back. There was no looking back.

“Wait for me, Will,” she whispered, turning the Daimler onto the Stafford Road. “I want to go, too.”

But when she saw the puffing smoke of a train’s steam engine rising in the distance above the green hills and woods, she gave a cry of alarm and pressed the petrol pedal down harder, praying the train was just coming in or standing at the station, not departing.

She hadn’t heard the whistle blow, but that wasn’t very comforting, because she wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of the Daimler anyway. She had no idea of the time, either, for she hadn’t wanted to check when she left Danbury. She didn’t want to know.

English country roads were not meant for motorcars traveling thirty miles per hour, and each bump and dip and rut lifted her bum off the seat and brought her back down with bone-jarring force. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but it wasn’t fear. It was exhilaration and hope and a soaring feeling of freedom.

She was flying in the face of everything she’d ever thought mattered in the world. As Paul had said, if anything about this plan went off the rails, and she and Will didn’t marry, she’d be ruined forever. Even if they did marry, the story would still be in every society paper between here and Egypt for months. In this modern age of telegraph cables and telephone wires, the news of their elopement would have spread throughout the British community in Cairo before they even arrived. And afterward, if the tomb Howard Carter had found was that of King Tutankhamen, journalists from all over the world would probably still find the sordid details of the elopement just as fascinating as any of the artifacts Will uncovered.

She didn’t care. None of that mattered. She felt as if she had just jumped off Angel’s Head again, with her stomach in her throat, and her life flashing before her eyes, and her heart pumping as fast as the pistons of the train’s steam engine. This time, she hoped the outcome was just as smashing, rip-roaring fun as that jump off Angel’s Head had been. If it wasn’t, the crash would be painful.

The shortest way to the train station was straight through the village proper, and she took it, even though she knew anyone in the High Street would drop whatever they were doing and follow her. Lady Beatrix wasn’t like that wild Baroness Yardley, after all. She didn’t race her motorcar through the street, endangering all and sundry. Oh yes, anyone who’d seen her would follow on foot to discover what had happened to send Lady Beatrix racing along the High Street in that Daimler of hers.

She didn’t care.

She turned at the vicarage, careening around the corner on two wheels, spitting gravel and dust and causing Mr. Venables to straighten up from his vegetable garden with an expression of astonishment, and when she glanced back, she found her suspicion confirmed. People were already coming up the road to follow her.

She once again pressed the petrol pedal all the way to the floor, and a few moments later, she was approaching the station. She could see the train, and relief flooded through her. It was still there. She hadn’t missed it.

There were several carriages and wagons there, and people milling about, and she brought the vehicle to a jerking halt as close to the station building as she could get, but that was near the very end of the platform. Still, it couldn’t be helped.

She pulled the brake lever, jumped out, and ran to the boot, where she began working to untie the ropes that secured her luggage. When she heard the puffing steam engine of the train quickening, she glanced up just in time to see the train lurch forward. It was leaving.

No, no
, she screamed in silent agony, wrenching at the knot she was working free. The train began gathering speed, and she thought she’d have to leave her things behind in order to catch it, but then, suddenly, the knot came undone. Flinging the ropes aside, she tucked her hatbox under her arm, grasped the handles of her suitcases, and started for the platform.

And then, just before she reached the steps, for no reason at all, her luck ran out. Her foot came down on some loose gravel and she skidded, losing her balance. She stumbled, dropping her suitcases. She managed to regain her balance, but the hatbox slipped from beneath her arm and rolled away. She left it, and the suitcases, too, scrambling for the steps, but as she reached the platform, the end of the train passed her.

With a cry of dismay, she raced after it along the length of the platform, but the caboose was past the end by the time she reached it, forcing her to stop at the edge. Gulping in air, she watched it go.

Too late, she thought, blinking back tears, feeling a sense of desolation and disappointment that was all out of proportion as she watched the train going farther and farther away. The one time in her life she decided to do something spontaneous, and she’d muffed it. Oh hell.

She swallowed hard, forcing down disappointment, and told herself it would be all right. Missing one train wasn’t the end of everything. If she drove the motorcar, she could still make the connecting train at Exeter. If something went wrong, and she missed that train, she’d take another. As she had told Paul, she’d go the whole way to Egypt alone if she had to. She wasn’t staying behind. There was a big, wide world out there, and she was going to see it.

“Going on a trip?”

With a gasp, she whirled around and saw Will coming toward her, smiling. “Wi-ill!”

He halted in front of her. “Don’t you know when you go on a trip, you need luggage?”

“It’s down there,” she panted, waving vaguely toward the steps at the other end of the platform. “I thought I’d have to jump for the train, so I had to drop my suitcases. What are you doing here? You missed the train!”

“I couldn’t go without you.”

“What?”

“I love you, and I’m not leaving.” He nodded to a pile of trunks and suitcases by the door into the station. His valet was standing beside them. “Aman and I were just about to fetch Mr. Robinson to take our luggage back to Sunderland.”

“But what about the tomb? Carter will open it anyway. He said so.”

Will shrugged as if that didn’t matter in the least. “I suppose he’ll have to do it without me.”