What Would Jane Austen Do? (31 page)

   Eleanor glanced at Shermont and could tell he was thinking what she was. If they left the house, they would never return.

   "What happens then?" he asked.

   When Patience glanced toward Shermont, Digby lunged forward, grabbed the bag, and headed toward the door. Shermont tackled him by the ankles and the two fought, rolling around on the floor. When they stood, trading blows, Patience took aim with her pistol at Shermont's back.

   Eleanor jumped forward and seized Patience's arm. They struggled for control of the weapon, but the older woman outweighed her by a good fifty pounds and shoved her aside. She fell to the floor as Patience again took aim.

   "Look out," Eleanor cried as she got up and went after Patience again.

   The pistol retort bounced off the walls of the small room, deafening the inhabitants. The echoes seemed to go on and on, but Eleanor realized the fireworks display had started outside. When the roomful of acrid smoke cleared, Teddy was on the floor, his chest a bloody mess. Shermont knelt beside him and pressed his handkerchief over the gaping wound.

   Patience dropped the pistol and put her hands to her mouth, not quite stifling her cry of dismay. She turned from the sight and ran outside.

   "Give me your handkerchief," Shermont said, shrugging off his coat.

   Eleanor still had her reticule looped over her wrist. When she found her handkerchief and held it out, he had covered the other man's face with his coat. She swallowed. She didn't have to ask if Teddy was dead.

   Shermont took her handkerchief and said, "I'm afraid I'll ruin it."

   "Go ahead." She pressed it on him. As he dabbed at his bleeding lip and wiped his hands, she said, "Hurry. Patience is getting away."

   "We'll deal with her later."

   As soon as his hands were clean, he tossed the handkerchief to the floor and wrapped Eleanor in a tight embrace. "Are you all right? For a moment there…" He choked up and couldn't put into words the terror that had swamped him while Digby aimed his pistol at her.

   "I'm fine."

   He knew she lied because she was trembling.

   "Patience is a murderer," she said, her quivering voice rising in pitch. "And she's getting—"

   "Eleanor!" He took her by both shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Right now we have other problems. I need you to remain calm. Take a deep breath. That's better. Undoubtedly, any number of people heard the gunshot—"

   "The fireworks…"

   "Military men and hunters will know the difference and will likely investigate the source. We can't keep this disaster quiet for long, but I don't think the girls deserve to hear about this from a curious crowd."

   "Of course not."

   "I'm glad you agree. I want you to find them and use whatever excuse you can to get them someplace private."

   "Our rooms?"

   "Excellent. You can tell them—"

   "I don't think I should be the one to tell them. It should be someone who knows them well and loves them, like their Uncle Huxley."

   "Good thinking." He kissed the tip of her nose and gave her a quick, tight hug. "I knew I could count on you to keep a cool head. I'll send Huxley to your rooms as soon as I can."

   Carl was the first to arrive in the estate office. Eleanor left on her errand. Outside the door, she leaned against the wall, her knees like Jello and her hands shaking. All her bravado of earlier had drained away.

   Omigod. Shermont could have died. She could have died. She wanted to run back into the room and hold him. Just being with him gave her strength. But he was depending on her, and she had a job to do. She took a deep breath and straightened. She had to be strong. Her friends Deirdre and Mina needed her.

   Eleanor found them in the ballroom about to line up with their partners for the next set.

   "I need to speak to you," she said. "Privately."

   "But it's the supper dance," Mina said.

   That meant it was close to midnight, her deadline. But she hadn't prevented Teddy's death. Did that mean the ghosts would not take her back? She couldn't worry about herself now.

   "You look terrible," Deirdre said. "Is your tooth ache worse?"

   "We looked for you," Mina said. "But you weren't—"

   "I know. This is important." Eleanor looked at the young men. "If you gentlemen will excuse us." She stepped between them and took each girl by the elbow, guiding them out the door and toward the stairs.

   "What—"

   "I can't tell you here. We're going to our room where we can't be overheard."

   As they walked up the stairs, Deirdre said, "I know the secret. Shermont has asked you to marry him, right?"

   Eleanor shook her head but didn't slow the pace.

   "I don't think it's a happy secret," Mina said.

   "Oh dear," Deirdre said. "You're carrying his child, and he refused to marry you."

   Eleanor started. "Whatever gave you an idea like that?"

   "I'm not as naïve as you think," Deirdre said smugly. "If you hadn't found us in his room, you would have been there alone with him. And then you left again, but the next day you said you hadn't seen Teddy."

   "That's right," Mina said. "I didn't even think of that."

   "I'm not pregnant," Eleanor assured them as they entered the sitting room. Both girls sat on the settee and looked at her with expectant expressions. Where was Huxley? She needed to stall for time. "We need tea." She used the bellpull to call the maid.

While Shermont explained to Carl what had happened, Huxley entered and listened. Shermont then sent his valet to apprehend Patience, both assuming she would head to the oak tree to meet her contact.

   Huxley looked down at the body of the man who had pretended to be his nephew. "My brother thought the world of him, but I always knew he was a bad apple. I've always said, never trust a man who mistreats animals."

   "What story do you want to tell the girls?"

   "The truth. There have been enough lies already. The girls are stronger than you think, stronger than they themselves know. No, I won't have them grieving for a beloved brother when he never deserved their regard."

   "I'll support whatever you decide."

   "I would appreciate it if the facts did not become common knowledge. No sense dragging the girls' names into his disgrace."

   "A few need to know the truth, but I guarantee their discretion."

   Huxley gave him an assessing look before nodding. "I'll make a succinct announcement, canceling the balance of this evening's festivities. The story will be that Digby was fatally wounded during a robbery attempt."

   "As you say."

   "I'll make funeral arrangements befitting his former position. But I refuse to have him buried in the family plot. His true grave will not carry my brother's name."

"My lips are sealed."

"Will you make it look—"

   "I'll straighten up in here. The scene will reflect the story."

   The two men shook hands.

   "One moment," Shermont said. "I'd like you to witness that I'm returning all this jewelry to the safe. If anything is missing, I want you to know I'm not responsible."

   "I trust you with my family's name. Compared to that, those baubles are inconsequential." Huxley left without another word.

   Shermont unpacked the portmanteau and was surprised to find two red leather portfolios. He recognized the folders used for diplomatic dispatches. The seals had been broken. He opened one and found it addressed to Wellington and signed by the Prince Regent.

   Major Alanbrooke and Captain Rockingham burst into the room. Alanbrooke quietly assessed the situa tion, but Rockingham blurted out, "What happened? Hey! What are you doing with those?" He started forward with his hands outstretched.

   Alanbrooke stopped him. "Give the man a chance to explain."

   Shermont faced Rockingham with a stern expres sion. "You're supposed to be on your way to Spain, aren't you?"

   The captain's ears turned as red as the folders. "I leave at dawn. Digby promised me his fastest horse. Said I could make up two days during the trip, and no one would ever know."

"So you gave him these?"

   "To keep safe. Away from prying eyes. Like yours. How dare you open—"

   "Just a moment." Alanbrooke laid his hand on Rockingham's shoulder. "Now would be a good time to start talking," he said to Shermont.

   "I'm an agent of His Majesty. And I expect you, Major Alanbrooke, to arrest Captain Rockingham for dereliction of duty."

   "Hell you say," Rockingham said. A rivulet of sweat ran down his temple. "We don't believe your cock and bull—"

   "The less you say, the better off you'll be," Alanbrooke said to the belligerent captain. "What happened here?" he asked Shermont.

   "Lord Digby was fatally shot during a robbery attempt."

   Shermont could see Alanbrooke didn't believe him either, but not for the same reasons as Rockingham.

   The door opened, and the two lieutenants who had also heard the shot entered. Alanbrooke ordered them to take the captain into custody and to keep him under guard in his room until further notice. Rockingham protested until Alanbrooke silenced him by whispering something in his ear. The three men left.

   The two remaining men looked up when the music came to a sudden halt. Shermont stood. "Huxley has made the announcement. I would appreciate it if you and any men you can round up could facilitate the rapid exit of the guests. Less time for gossiping. And send a footman for the constable."

   "What are you going to do with those dispatches?"

"Return them to the sender."

"Are you going to tell me what really happened?"

"No."

   "I can guess. Digby is wearing traveling clothes. The hidden wall cabinet is standing open. The portmanteau he used during the play is packed with his clothes, jewelry cases, and I assume those dispatches were in there. Only one shot was fired. And a government agent is found standing over his body."

   While Alanbrooke talked, Shermont put the jewelry cases back in the secret cabinet, locked it, pocketed the key to give to Huxley later, and replaced the wainscoting. Although he was impressed by the other man's observations, he kept his face impassive.

   "I'd say you were tracking Digby for some reason," Alanbrooke concluded. "He was probably selling information to Napoleon. You caught him trying to escape and shot him."

   "I didn't shoot him."

   Alanbrooke nodded and headed toward the door. He stopped and turned at the sound of Shermont's voice.

   "If you ever decide to try a different career, contact Scovell. I'll write you a recommendation."

   Alanbrooke raised an eyebrow. "I think not. I wear my country's colors proudly. I've no respect for agents who skulk in dark corners buying and selling military information like loaves of bread."

   "Actually, I agree. What would you say about those tasked with catching those same agents?"

   "I'll have to think on that."

   "That's all I ask. By the way, what did you say to Rockingham?"

   Alanbrooke smiled. "He's always had a fondness for rum, and I reminded him that I had half a bottle stashed in my room." He turned on his heel and left.

"Just tell us," Deirdre said, a bit of exasperation sneaking into her tone. "Whatever it is, we'll…" Her voice faded as the music stopped mid-song on a discordant note. She cocked her head. "What is that?" She started to stand.

   But Eleanor couldn't let her leave to investigate. She quickly pulled a footstool to a position in front of the girls and took their hands between hers. "There's been a terrible accident," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

   A scratching on the door preceded Twilla's entrance with a large tray. Nothing else could be said while the servant was in the room. Eleanor hoped it would take the maid a long time to serve the tea, but Deirdre curtailed any fussing.

   "Just leave the tray on the table," she said. "That will be all." As soon as Twilla left, Deirdre turned to Eleanor. "Just tell us." This time her tone was gentler, but wary.

   Mina added her other hand to the rest. "I'm scared."

   "I hate to be the one to tell you," Eleanor started, but a knock on the door interrupted her. "Enter." She hoped it was Huxley. She glanced over her shoulder. The poor man looked as if he'd aged a decade in the last hour.

Shermont wrapped the dispatches in one of Digby's shirts, so he could carry them to his room with no one recognizing them for what they were. He hid the portmanteau under the desk where Huxley would find it when he sat there to go through Digby's papers.

   Carl entered from outside. "Patience wasn't at the oak tree. They must have had a different prearranged meeting place for the escape, but no horses are missing from the stable."

   "She may have decided to make her own way, so she wouldn't have to explain his absence. Check any stage stops within a two-mile radius. I don't expect she got any farther than that without a horse."