The Runaway Bride, page 12
He walked in and closed it behind him. Paused for a moment, and then turned. ‘I had not expected to see you here.’
Frances merely arched an eyebrow and went to sit on a chair by a small fire. ‘You might want to thank me.’
‘Indeed, if thanks are in order, you have them … Mama. How did you know where to find me?’
‘I was at Turner’s house when he received your letter.’ She smiled at him. It was a predatory smile, and one he usually enjoyed seeing on her face. Today though, it was underscored with something else.
‘Do you bring news from him?’
She nodded. ‘I do indeed.’
He played along and moved closer. ‘Anything you intend to share? Have you and my brother paved the way for the marriage to be accepted?’
‘Oh, yes, James did his very best with Turner.’
Edward laughed. ‘And …? What did he achieve? How is my dear father-in-law?’
She pulled a thoughtful face and spoke mildly. ‘Well, I can tell you Turner is … incandescent. Yes, I think that does him justice.’ Her eyes sparked. ‘Incandescent with rage. He didn’t give James any chance to speak, so James, in his wisdom, threw your letter at him and ran away down the drive whilst Turner shot at him …’
Edward was agog. ‘What?’
Frances’s mild expression changed in a second. ‘I told you. I warned you, but no, you thought you knew best. Well, I can tell you now that you need to gather up your pretty little wife and get her and yourself out of the country before you are apprehended. Turner has gone mad. Absolutely mad and he is coming for you.’
‘Don’t be hysterical, Frances. I’ll talk him round,’ Edward blustered. He needed to let Ellen rest. He wasn’t sure how much further he could push her. He got up and paced the room, one hand smoothing his hair.
‘Listen to me,’ Frances hissed, coming to stand close. Too close. ‘You either get yourself to the coast and get onto a ship for France, or you will be arrested. Trust me. I’ve seen him.’
Edward let go of a heavy breath. ‘Where is James?’
‘Leave James to me. Just get out of here, and off English soil.’
There were times for sparring with Frances, and times for action.
He decided the latter would serve him best. Edward ran down the stairs and headed for his wife, mind spinning. This was not how he had envisaged things turning out, not at all.
He found her sitting upright in her chair, sipping tea.
‘Do you feel refreshed, my love?’
Ellen put the cup down. ‘I’d like to go to my room, please. If I don’t lie down soon, I may faint dead away.’
‘Darling,’ Edward began and saw her stiffen. He reached out and took her hand. ‘Darling, I need to tell you something, but before I do, I need to remind you we are in a public place, in London.’ He held her gaze until the import of his words registered.
‘My love, your father has been forced to flee to France.’
‘France?’ Her lower lip began to tremble.
‘Hush, hush,’ he entreated, frantically searching for an explanation. ‘Yes, love, France. It was the safest thing for him to do; his creditors were closing, apparently as yet unwilling to accept our married status because of your age. Things are going to take longer than we thought. We need to follow your papa, and when we are all together, presenting a united picture, no one will be able to challenge our arrangement. Once this is done, your father’s creditors will be appeased, and your father will be a free man.’
He held his breath, but then saw that she believed him and congratulated himself. ‘Of course,’ she said, shaking herself. ‘Do we leave first thing?’
Edward squeezed her hand and held her gaze. ‘We need to leave now.’
Her face was positively ashen now. For a worrying moment he feared she might be ill. ‘I need my clothes, my things. I …’ She gestured at her creased, dusty gown in exasperation, and he quelled a feeling of irritation with the girl’s constant questioning.
‘Hold fast, my love. We are so close now.’ He touched her knee tenderly. ‘In France you can shop to your heart’s content, and we’ll return for your things just as soon as it’s safe.’ He was mightily relieved when, at this, she pulled herself together. Edward rose to his feet and Ellen followed, like the incredibly stoic young lady she was.
‘Let us make haste,’ he said and folded Ellen’s hand into the crook of his arm. ‘You are the bravest of brave girls and your papa will be so unspeakably proud of you, as am I,’ he murmured.
She swallowed and tears hovered again for a moment but did not fall.
Chapter 28
Two days later
William
William sat in the study of his London home on Parliament Street with Grimsditch and Robert. The atmosphere was more than a little tense.
‘What news?’ Grimsditch asked.
William drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I made it to the Brunswick, and Wakefield had been there, but they had already left.’
Robert groaned. ‘Every damned time …’
‘I know, but I managed to speak to one of the footmen and he overheard them planning to leave for Calais. A place called the Hotel Quillon.’
‘So, we go to Calais?’ Robert said. William nodded, but Robert looked pensive.
‘What? What is it?’ William said.
Robert pursed his lips. ‘Before we leap out with this, we need to be sure of the action we intend,’ he said.
William scowled, but Grimsditch cut in. ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘I’ve given the matter considerable thought, and whilst I completely understand that you want to get her away from the scoundrel … your wife’s position does have merit.’
William groaned. ‘For God’s sake, I’m not letting him get away with this. How many times must I say it?’
‘But Ellen’s social standing will be destroyed,’ Robert said. Of all of them, Robert was the most conscious of the aristocracy’s ways. William had to admit that he didn’t always appreciate the intricacies of society.
‘I don’t care about that. We can weather all of that.’
‘Well, forgive me for saying so, but you should care,’ Robert said. ‘If you follow that path, your child will be ruined. All hopes of a great match will be dashed, and Jane will be utterly, utterly devastated. I doubt with her constitution she would survive the scandal.’
William glared at his brother. ‘Would you allow your niece to be kidnapped in this fashion? Would you let everything you and I have worked for be handed over to some … some bacon-brained rattlepate? How can you even countenance it?’
Grimsditch leaned over and laid his hand over William’s, surprising him into silence.
‘William, we have been friends a long time, and trust me, I do not say this lightly. Yes, he may have kidnapped her, but she married him. She agreed to a marriage in Gretna, so there is a possibility that … she’s happy with him. What else could have induced her to say yes? If he took her against her will, all she had to do was say no at the altar.’
‘You think he threatened her?’
‘I don’t know; all we know is, she agreed. If you do as he says, pay him off, buy them a nice house in London, give them something to live on, they can be introduced to society, and all will be well. You will have your child back, and your wife will be able to hold up her head, but we will need to work fast and make sure that the newspapers are with us and spread the correct message.’
William was shaking. It might be too late for that, he thought. A newspaper man had already come knocking at his door, asking for his reaction to the marriage announcement. He had managed to keep his tone even as he feigned being late for an appointment, and asked the man to return another day. Had the fellow believed him? Or had he smelled a rat?
He looked at Grimsditch. ‘I thought you were behind me.’
‘I am. You will have my support regardless of what you decide, but I’ve had time to reflect on the journey here, and it would be wrong of me not to voice the concerns I have. Miss Davis could see the pitfalls, and it’s often worth listening to the women on these matters.’
Grimsditch touched his arm again and didn’t let up. ‘I’m sorry to say this to you, my friend, but besides the fact that it will be damned difficult to bring him to justice whilst he’s in France … well, it’s entirely possible he’s … deflowered her. There could be issue; there could be a grandchild.’
William shook off his hand, got up and paced the room. He couldn’t even think about that.
Robert took up the pressure. ‘When we get to Calais, you can knock seven bells out of him if you like, but she needs to come back as a respectable married lady. The match needs to be celebrated, and fast.’
William swallowed. He knew what they were saying was sensible. Knew that it was what his wife wanted, but he couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t allow this lickspittle to take what was his. To take his child, take his fortune, and take everything he held dear. He couldn’t allow it.
He sucked in a breath, put his hands on his hips, and looked at the assembled men.
‘No.’
Grimsditch took a measured breath and gave him a look that spoke of resignation. ‘Very well. But first, I think we need to visit Parliament.’
***
A week after his daughter's wedding, William slumped in a chair in his parlour on Parliament Street. Sadly, the advice of Robert and Grimsditch had been echoed in the shocked tones of Lord Canning, the foreign secretary. Grimsditch had managed to get them an interview, but when he’d explained his position and his intentions, the man had stared at him with something suspiciously like pity.
My dear fellow, the child will be forsaken if you do not accept the marriage, he’d pronounced. When William had tried to explain Ellen’s innocence, Canning simply held up a hand. It matters not. Believe me, she is ruined. The utterly implacable statement had pierced his armour, found a chink in his faith, and it hurt. Perhaps they were all right.
He put a hand over his eyes. He needed to meet this Wakefield chap and assure himself that the man was at least decent. But how could he be decent and do what he did?
Damnation. He stalked to the decanter and filled his glass. He was taking a long drink when the butler tapped on the door and announced Mr Legh of Lyme Park. ‘Show him in,’ William grunted, surprised.
Legh came in looking extremely fine in London garb. He was the kind of man who had been brought up to instinctively know what was acceptable in society and what was not. And he’d told him Ellen was ruined too. Damned aristocrats.
‘If you’ve come to hector me about accepting the marriage, I fear you are too late. I have been outnumbered.’
Legh frowned. He looked at the glass in William’s hand then back at him. ‘Beg pardon?’
‘I have been outmanned, outgunned … out everything. Even the damned foreign secretary said she was ruined. Everyone says she is ruined. It doesn’t seem to matter that she is completely innocent.’
Legh looked uncomfortable. ‘Sadly, that is the way of the world. However, there is something you need to know. Something about Wakefield.’
‘What?’
Legh looked at the brandy glass. ‘May I have one of those?’
William’s heart thudded in his chest as he poured and handed the glass to Legh. They sat in the leather armchairs facing each other beside the fire.
‘What have you found?’
Legh took a long drink, inspected his fingertips, then looked up at him. ‘He’s done it before.’
***
William scowled. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’
‘Wakefield. He’s done it before.’ Legh took another drink. ‘He abducted an heiress and persuaded the family to accept it and settle a significant sum to avoid scandal.’
‘What?’
Through the bright red fury, he saw Legh nod. ‘If it is Edward Gibbon Wakefield, he has done it before.’
William was out of his chair and pacing. ‘Sweet Jesus … Tell me. Tell me everything.’ He could barely stop his voice from shaking.
‘I gather your daughter is a significant heiress?’
William stuck out his chin. ‘A million pounds.’
Legh’s eyes widened. ‘That … is significant.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well, it was ten years ago. Wakefield was young, and in dire straits. Creditors were chasing him, and he was completely at point non plus, so he abducted a sixteen-year-old heiress. A Miss Clara Pattle. He kidnapped her and—’ Legh cleared his throat again ‘—compromised her, then demanded money from the family to keep the abduction quiet and claim it was a love match. He also demanded a large annuity.’
William was shaking.
Legh looked into his glass. ‘They acquiesced and met his demands. Apparently, Miss Pattle gave every impression of being happily married to him. I understand there were a couple of offspring, but Miss Pattle died before she inherited her father’s wealth, so he was back to the beginning. Expensive lifestyle, but not a feather to fly with.’
‘So, he saw Ellen as an opportunity.’
‘I fear so.’
William ground his teeth together. ‘This changes everything.’
Legh hesitated, frowned, and again William knew he wasn’t going to like what came next.
‘Sadly, it changes nothing.’
Well, at least he knew he could rely on Legh for honesty. He smiled. He suspected it wasn’t a pleasant smile.
‘It changes everything,’ he repeated. ‘I’m going to get him, and I’m going to get my daughter back.’
Legh hesitated again.
‘For Christ’s sake, man, spit it out.’
Legh cocked an eyebrow and the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his face. ‘Do you think it would be wise to see what your daughter would like to do? If she’s happy with him … If she’s happy with him,’ he repeated as William tried to interject, ‘it might be kindest all round to let things lie. There are other ways to punish him that don’t involve destroying your daughter, believe me.’
‘Ask her?’
‘A novel thought, but yes. Ask her what she wants. She will know what going through the courts will mean to her reputation. Ask her if she is prepared to do it, because if she isn’t, she might just back Wakefield’s story and make you look like a fool.’
Christ! William closed his eyes, took a long drink, and stared at the perceptive young man in front of him. He was sure that once Ellen knew the truth about Wakefield, she would not want to remain married to him. But of course, he could give her a choice – he would give her a choice …
Legh cleared his throat yet again, and William rolled his eyes. More honesty?
‘Am I right in thinking that you are bent on following them to France?’
William nodded and took another drink. ‘Of course.’
‘Might I make a suggestion?’
William’s lips twitched. He really did like Legh. ‘You can try.’
‘What do you intend to do when you see him?’
William shrugged. ‘Kill him?’
Legh smiled. ‘I thought as much. If you are really going to try to prosecute Wakefield, you need to be whiter than white from now on. No more shooting at people, no ripping anyone limb from limb …’ he raised his eyebrows seeking acknowledgement.
William grunted.
‘I suggest you let Grimsditch and your brother go and retrieve her. If she wants retrieving, that is.’
William wanted to shout, rail … but instead he put down his glass.
‘Has anyone ever told you that you can be damned annoying when you’re right?’
Chapter 29
Two days earlier
THE HOTEL QUILLON, CALAIS
Ellen
Ellen arrived in Calais cold, exhausted, and in a foul mood. Edward tried his best to jolly her along, but she was beyond jollying. Her legs ached, her feet ached, and her rear … well, the less said about that the better.
He took her to yet another hotel, the name of which escaped her. She was ushered to a small suite with what looked like a parlour and two bedrooms, where a beaming young maid in a large cap was waiting. As Ellen dragged herself to stand by the fire in her room, Edward came to her and put his arm about her shoulder.
‘You look done in, love.’ He squeezed her gently and kissed the side of her head. ‘Why don’t you retire, and we can talk more in the morning? I’m certain you will enjoy France when you are rested.’
Ellen nodded and leaned into his embrace for a moment before pulling away, anxious lest such demonstrations of affection might turn to more. ‘Thank you, I will.’
Edward gave her a searching look before leaning in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. She had to force herself not to recoil – he had been drinking wine on the boat and his breath smelled unpleasantly sour. He reached up and cupped her chin, before kissing her again, on the mouth. She screwed her eyes closed and kept still.
He pulled away on a groan. ‘What you do to me,’ he whispered as he walked from the room.
Ellen shivered. She had no idea what she did to him.
The maid – Veronique – helped her undress, and when she was in her night-rail, with Veronique running a brush gently over her hair, she started to relax. She gave in to the rhythmic movement, as Veronique gathered it all together and plaited it swiftly.
Ellen smiled up at her. ‘Thank you so much.’
Veronique bobbed a curtsy.
‘Do you need anything else, madame?’
Ellen shook her head. ‘No, that’s perfect, thank you. You can go now.’
The girl bobbed a curtsy again, but as she turned to leave, there came a hard knock on the door. They both froze.
Ellen’s heart exploded back into action, thundering like a jackrabbit. The door opened, and her husband came in. He was dressed for bed and wore what looked like a nightshirt beneath a silk robe in garish shades of emerald and puce. His feet were in slippers, but she could see his bare ankles, and he wore nothing at his throat. In only a night-shirt and dressing gown herself, and with her hair down, she felt horribly exposed. She gathered the edges of the robe together at her chin.
