Chapter Nineteen

Matthew and Sir Jonathan had set off at dawn and had already gone two hours out of London. Matthew had left a rather curt note for his father explaining that he'd taken the carriage, and that all thought of Lady Juniper or Miss Semper must come to an end.

"You really have no idea how relations with Lady Constance took such a sharp turn?" Sir Jonathan asked.

"Only speculation," Matthew said. "I will hazard a guess that Lady Juniper is at the bottom of it."

"She is a very strange lady," Sir Jonathan said. "One evening at a dinner I was making conversation, as one must, and she proceeded to tell me that her husband could expect a very austere household and that loud laughing would be frowned upon. Why am I to care what her household will be like?"

"She probably assumed you were after her dowry," Matthew said.

"Not enough money in the world for that," Sir Jonathan said. "In any case, I much prefer Miss Semper—now there is a genial lady. Though, I find I am at cross-loyalties now. How can I continue to prefer the lady when she has conspired against you?"

As always, Matthew appreciated Sir Jonathan's steadfastness. He would not, however, wish to interfere with the gentleman's happiness.

"There is no conflict of loyalty," he said. "If Miss Semper has been led into this, whatever this is, then she has been led by Lady Juniper. As has Lady Constance. I do not blame Miss Semper for it."

"Why should Lady Juniper cause such mischief?" Sir Jonathan asked. "Does she have an interest in you? Is it jealousy, do you think?"

"No and no," Matthew said, laughing at the very idea. "My father has been all to obvious at trying to secure either Lady Juniper or Miss Semper for me, to bail out the estate he has not put much work into. I believe she is deeply offended by it."

"Well, you've got your estate sorted out, at least," Sir Jonathan said.

Matthew nodded. "Thanks to your expertise, I have."

Getting the estate in hand had ended being a hopeless operation in regard to Lady Constance, but it was well that he'd done it. It needed to be done.

As he stewed over what lengths he'd gone to, the countryside passed by his window. If all had gone as it should have, he'd still be in Town and would be calling on Lady Constance. He had planned to acquaint her with everything that had been done to the estate, all the plans. He would lay out the practicalities—he had no need for a whopping dowry, despite his father's views. He would give her a clear view of things, so she might consider them.

If she was agreeable, and he had thought she would be, he would make an appointment with her father. Then, he'd deal with his own father, who would likely have a nervous collapse.

Instead, he was on his way to a remote fishing lodge. It was ridiculous.

Matthew sat up. It was ridiculous. What was he doing? Was he to allow the pinch-faced Lady Juniper to affect his future so materially?

It had seemed as if he could do nothing. He had been trained since he was a boy to acquiesce to a lady's every wish—it had been drummed into him. To do anything less was to be ungentlemanly, the bane of a gentleman's existence. Whatever else a man was, he must not be found ungentlemanly. Lady Constance had told him that their acquaintance was at an end. If she did not care to elaborate as to why, that was her prerogative.

As a gentleman, he had been told in no uncertain terms to stand aside and so he must stand aside. It would have been bullying and ungentlemanly to refuse to stand aside.

His mother did just what she liked and if the earl did not like it, she blamed it on the way of the world. There was not a thing the earl could ever do about it.

Rules around a lady's rights were all well and good when it came to a reasonable person. Or perhaps not reasonable entirely but mostly, as his mother seemed to be.

He perfectly understood the point behind it all. Women did not have many rights beyond what were afforded them through gentlemanly courtesy.

But Lady Juniper did not exactly fit the mold of the usual lady deserving courtesy. For one, she was not a reasonable person. She was forever going round threatening gentlemen with the uncomfortable life they would live if they pursued her. For another, she did not actually need to wed if she did not prefer it. And for another, she was a pinched and unpleasant person seemingly determined to ruin all the happiness in her sphere.

He'd wished to dunk that lady's head in a punch bowl. That he would not do, though he still had pleasant imaginings about it. However, if he could not fight that lady with swords or pistols or fists, he could fight her with words. He would beat her over the head with words, if that became necessary.

There was no reason in the wide world why he needed to afford Lady Juniper Croydon any courtesy whatsoever.

"I need to go back," Matthew said.

"Did you forget something?"

"I did rather forget something," Matthew said. "I'll not have the course of my life dictated by that harridan and I'll not politely stand aside."

Sir Jonathan rapped on the roof and the carriage slowed to a stop. He stuck his head out the window and said, "Turn round, we're going back."

Matthew could hear the coachman's sigh over this waste of a morning, but it did not particularly affect him.

"So? What is your plan?" Sir Jonathan asked.

"We go directly to Lady Constance's house and I will demand an explanation from her and I will defeat whatever arguments Lady Juniper has put forth. With any luck, Lady Juniper will be there, they seem always to be together. If that is the case, I will challenge that lady to explain herself and I will do it in no uncertain terms."

"It's about time somebody asked Lady Juniper to explain herself," Sir Jonathan said. "Well, this is a pleasant turn of events. I look forward to seeing Miss Semper again."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Constance kept thinking through the odd events of the past days. There was something itching at the corners of her mind that she could not quite pin down.

She had, at various moments, attributed this feeling of discomfort to several different things. Her disappointment over Lord Bramley or even her ill ease at the idea that Mr. Ludwig would present himself to her father this morning.

Of course, she had nothing at all to fear from Mr. Ludwig. Her father had been apprised of her feelings or rather lack thereof and, as it turned out, the earl did not care for Mr. Ludwig either. If Constance had wished to wed the fellow, her father would have done everything in his power to turn her from the idea. If the gentleman's visit had nothing to do with her, if Mr. Ludwig came with some sort of business proposition, he would be shown the door. The earl had no wish to be in any sort of partnership with that gentleman.

It had been so awkward last evening! She'd seen Mr. Ludwig steal money from the abandoned children. He'd lied about it. He'd said he was taking change from the guinea he'd put in, but there was no guinea in the bowl. Was he really so poor that he needed to steal from children who had nothing?

Constance paused. That was an odd thought. After all, had he not twice said that he had no respect for a gentleman who would use a wife's dowry to prop up his finances? If he were so strapped that he was stealing coins from bowls at a charity party, how else could he solve that problem? Any gentleman in such a situation would be looking toward a dowry, large or otherwise, to assist in remedying the difficulty.

If that were the case, if Mr. Ludwig did need a dowry, why had he made such a point to say that was not the case?

Perhaps that was what gentlemen said, as a matter of course. After all, the anonymous letter revealing that Lord Bramley knew her secret had said something very like.

At that thought, Constance felt as if she'd been hit in the head with a bat. It shook her thoughts around and when they settled, they settled in a very different order than they had been.

She leapt from bed and raced to her writing desk, rummaging through the drawers as Letty came into the room.

Constance pulled out the note that had been sent with the mahogany box and then the anonymous letter.

"Letty, do you suppose these two handwritings are alike?"

Letty hurried over and peered down at the two sheets of paper. "I'm not sure. I suppose they could be. They both look very usual."

Yes, they did look very usual. Constance reread the end of the anonymous letter.

It is shameful that a man would rely on a wife to prop himself up.

If she could not be certain the handwriting was identical, she could be certain that the sentiment was one she'd heard before.

It was a particular sentiment of Mr. Ludwig's.

Mr. Ludwig was poor enough to steal from abandoned children.

Mr. Ludwig had been persistent in his attentions, despite receiving no encouragement whatsoever.

Mr. Ludwig had mentioned his business dealings in New York, which meant there was the possibility that he, unlike other people, might know of Mr. Canbury. He might know that Mr. Canbury had been very rich. He might have heard that the old gentleman had died.

And then, as he did travel to New York more than once, he would know more than one sea captain. He might know the sea captain who had brought back Mr. Canbury's remains.

Of anyone, Mr. Ludwig had the means to know of Mr. Canbury and the subsequent inheritance.

Mr. Ludwig was to arrive this morning to meet with her father. If he came to ask for her hand, it was preposterous. It was desperate.

That's what it was—desperate. People did desperate things because they had a lot to lose…

And then, had not Sir Jonathan said that his friend, Lord Bramley, had been much maligned?

What if it were not Lord Bramley who knew her secret? What if it were Mr. Ludwig?

It made more sense that it was Mr. Ludwig. After all, how had she imagined that Lord Bramley was acquainted with a sea captain when he'd not even traveled overseas? Had she imagined he spent his time haunting taverns down by the docks? How else would he know a sea captain?

"Letty, I may have made a very grave mistake."

"Nonsense, whatever mistake you've made, it cannot be grave."

"I may have accused and condemned Lord Bramley over an anonymous letter that was likely written by Mr. Ludwig to drive him off."

Letty looked stricken. "That would be grave. Grave indeed."

"Why else does Mr. Ludwig push himself forward so forcefully? I saw him steal money last evening. From poor children! And now he comes to see my father after Lord Bramley has set off to Scotland. Mr. Ludwig has been to New York. What if it was Mr. Ludwig who spoke to that sea captain and discovered the money? What if I have been fooled all along?"

"Gracious," Letty breathed. "What will you do? Will you saddle a horse and set off after Lord Bramley?"

Constance stared at her maid. "I certainly will not, what are you thinking?"

Letty shrugged. "It would be romantic, is all."

"It would be a scandal, is all. I would never disrespect my parents in such a manner. No, if it can be fixed, it must be fixed in a more rational manner than that! Goodness, could it be fixed somehow?"

Letty shrugged, which Constance did not find encouraging.

"If I have accused Lord Bramley…oh, would he ever forgive what I said? I was so cold and told him our acquaintance was at an end. What was I thinking?"

There was the sudden sound of hoofbeats out of doors. Constance threw her shoulders back. Mr. Ludwig had no doubt arrived.

Mr. Ludwig was about to be given what Letty would call the what-for. He was about to experience it by Constance's own hands. She may have been buffeted by winds not of her own making, but it was time to trim the sails and steer her own ship.

As for Mr. Ludwig's ship—that was about to sail into a violent storm and sink.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mr. Wilburn paced the front hall, rubbing his hands together. The world was collapsing around his ears.

When he'd come up to supervise the preparations for breakfast, he'd seen the folded note left on the table in the great hall. It was in Lord Bramley's handwriting and addressed to the earl.

He'd felt in an instant that some disaster was in the process of unfolding. He'd hurried to the stables, praying he was wrong.

He was not wrong. The coachman was gone, as was the family carriage. None of the grooms knew anything about it.

At least, those scoundrels claimed to know nothing about it until he threatened to dismiss them all on the spot. Then he was told the truth. Lord Bramley had set off for Scotland. They said it was all on the up and up, as Lord Bramley was to leave a note about taking the carriage.

Scotland! That one word encompassed all that could possibly go wrong.

His worst fears were coming true. Lord Bramley and Lady Constance were eloping to Gretna Green. He could not know what was in that note Lord Bramley had left, but he doubted any mention of an elopement would be in it. Such things were never advertised until they were fait accompli.

He had, for a moment, slumped on a hay bale.

Then he'd got hold of himself. The couple had set off just hours ago. Lord Bramley traveled with a lady. Those creatures were notorious for wishing to stop here and then stop there, zig-zagging their way across the countryside. They wanted tea, they wanted a retiring room, they wanted to stretch their legs, they wanted to stop and discover if that really was Lady So-and-So's carriage. A trip with the countess was like a sojourn to China and back for how long it took.

With any luck, Lady Constance was just the same. The couple might yet be caught and turned round.

Mr. Wilburn had hurried to his room and wrote out the following, careful to disguise his handwriting:

Earl—

As a concerned person, I write anonymously to alert you that Lord Bramley and Lady Constance Croydon plan to elope to Gretna Green.

He'd waved the paper to dry the ink, folded it, and sealed it with wax. He was careful to use his letter opener to press the wax rather than the house seal. Mr. Wilburn raced back up the stairs. Somehow, he got the note laid with Lord Bramley's note before the earl descended for breakfast.

By the time the earl showed himself on the stairs, Mr. Wilburn's heart pounded in his chest and he was convinced he would drop dead from the exertion.

"Wilburn," the earl said in his usual manner.

"My lord," Mr. Wilburn said. "There are two letters here for you. One appears to be from Lord Bramley."

The butler brought the tray with the two aforementioned letters to the Earl.

"Bramley. If he's gone off to meddle with the estate again, I will, well I will!"

The earl did not say what he would do, precisely.

The gentleman opened up the first letter and perused it. "He's gone to Scotland with Sir Jonathan and he's had the nerve to take my carriage! Oh and he says all thought of Lady Juniper and Miss Semper is off. Why?"

Mr. Wilburn did not mention that the why was for several reasons. One, Lord Bramley had eloped with Lady Constance. And two, it was sure to be Lady Juniper and Miss Semper who had named the gentleman a viper and a crocodile. He presumed Sir Jonathan went to witness the nuptials. Mr. Wilburn watched with trepidation as the earl read the second letter.

The lord's hands shook as he read the short missive, then rapidly reread the first.

"That scoundrel!" he shouted.

Just then, Lady Wisterley came down the stairs.

"Your son!" the earl cried accusingly.

Lady Wisterley, as was ever her habit, did not seem particularly alarmed. "What of him? Is he cutting down more trees? Way of the world, Darling."

"He's run off to Scotland with Lady Constance!" the earl shouted.

The countess steadied herself on the balustrade. "That…that is not the way of the world."

"Well finally—we land on something that is not the way of the world," the earl said. "What are we going to do about it?"

The countess appeared mystified over that question. Mr. Wilburn cleared his throat and said, "My lord, they have not been on the road long. Perhaps they might yet be stopped and the whole thing hushed up?"

The earl paced the front hall. "Yes, they can be caught…hush the whole thing up! Get me the carriage. I will see Lady Constance's father at once. I must assume he will be willing to set off on the chase with me."

"Lord Bramley took the carriage, my lord."

"Get me a hackney then!"

"A hackney?"

"There is no time to lose, Wilburn. If I must travel by hackney like a grocer to see the Earl of DeWitton then I will do so—I presume you know how the operation works. Do I need money?"

"Yes, my lord," Mr. Wilburn said. "I will retrieve a sufficient amount from the cash box."

"The cash box, yes, that's what we need! How much cash do these hackney people demand? Whatever it is, I'll give it to them!"

"Perhaps I ought to accompany you, my lord. These drivers can be rough sorts and may attempt to take advantage of…a gentleman who does not generally employ them."

The earl turned to a footman and said, "Well? Go find us one of these hackney fellows! Bring me the best you can find!"

Mr. Wilburn walked the footman to the door. "Never mind bringing the best you can find, hail the first you can find."

"I wish to leave this instant!" the earl shouted as his countess drifted toward the breakfast room.

"The world has gone mad," the countess said before disappearing round the doorframe.

"Oh really? Now the world has gone mad?" the earl shouted after her. "I've only been saying so for years, but no, I was always to understand it was only the world's ways. Now you see I'm right!"

Mr. Wilburn did not know if this was the final argument his lord and lady were to have regarding the ways of the world, but he certainly hoped so.