Chapter Sixteen

S am walked up the lane to the Abbey the next morning through a gentle mizzle of rain that was really nothing more than low cloud. However, it was the sort of rain that could get you very wet without you noticing and had turned the air chilly. Hunching his shoulders and hurrying his steps, he turned his greatcoat collar up to his ears and pulled his wide-brimmed hat well down on his head. The rain might only be heavy mist, but it didn't do to linger in it.

The mud underfoot splattered over the boots young Jack had polished for him last night, and he wished he'd brought his gloves. It was odd how a bit of rain could make you this cold, but winter was intent on proving spring wasn't well established this year. Indeed, it felt as though summer would never come, what with all the unseasonable rain. He doubted there'd be much farm work going on in this claggy weather. The spring sowing had been delayed again and horses couldn't pull ploughs when their hooves were mired in mud.

Reaching the servants' courtyard, he pushed open the side door and let himself in. He had a perfect right to come in via the big front doors, but preferred to access his office from the back, as that was where it lay. His boots echoed along the empty corridor.

As he passed the kitchens, the door opened and Martha, pushing it with her bottom, shuffled out backwards carrying a tray of what must be Ysella's breakfast. He reached out and held the door for her, and she looked up and bestowed a grateful smile on him.

"Thank you, Mr. Beauchamp, sir."

Sam smiled back. He liked Martha. She was an honest, sensible servant who could be relied upon to do the right thing. A good choice of maid for the flighty Ysella, and one whom he knew would not hesitate to report back to Kit or the dowager if she thought any danger threatened her charge. Although why he should even be thinking of Ysella and danger at the moment, he couldn't quite fathom. Perhaps because of her nature. Even through spectacles he had to acknowledge were rosy tinted where Ysella was concerned, he couldn't avoid admitting she was flighty. But that was part of her charm.

He opened the door at the end of the corridor for Martha and she scuttled off up the backstairs to deliver her mistress's breakfast. Sam continued to his office and unlocked the door. Inside, he settled down to going over the rent books as quarter day wasn't far off and the tenants would be coming in to pay their dues.

He hadn't been there long before the door swung open and Kit came in, his face creased into a frown. "Did you, by any chance, see Ysella out walking on your way up here this morning?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "I saw no one. It's not a day for man nor beast to be out enjoying the fresh air, surely? I can't imagine Ysella can have chosen to go for a walk. Can she?"

Kit clenched his jaw. "I've checked the stables, and Lochinvar is still there. As is Sweetlip. In fact, all the horses are accounted for. So, she can't be out riding, which might have been more likely. She's not a girl to let a bit of rain put her off riding her horse." His gaze darted around Sam's office as if thinking Ysella might have secreted herself in there somewhere. "And Martha, who found her missing when she took her breakfast up, says her riding habit is still in her wardrobe. Unlike some of her other clothes."

"Her clothes are missing?" Sam echoed. "You're sure?"

"Of course I am," Kit snapped. "And Martha thinks she might have taken a valise."

"Well, she can't have just gone for a walk then, can she?" Sam said, his heart beginning to pound. His stomach was already tying itself into a knot worthy of Gordius, king of Phrygia.

"No," Kit said. "She can't have. And yet she's not here." He paused. "I've had Martha go through her things to check what's missing." He sat down heavily in the chair opposite Sam's with a thump, as though his legs would no longer hold him up, and put his hand to his head. "I fear she's done something very stupid."

Sam's mouth had gone bone dry, but he managed a nod. This must have been why he couldn't rid himself of the idea that Ysella was putting herself in danger. Some sixth sense had warned him. "I very much fear you might be right. What are we to do?"

"Martha tells me Ysella gave her leave to go to bed early last night and had Ellen do duty as lady's maid. I think we'll have to start with interviewing the girl." He stared into Sam's eyes. "And Morvoren must know nothing of this in her condition. The shock might set her recovery right back. She's very fond of Ysella."

Sam got to his feet. "You take my seat, and I'll go and fetch Ellen."

His own legs felt somehow disjointed from his body as he hurried along the corridor to the servants' hall and pushed the door into the kitchens open. Ellen, who must have already performed her early morning duties such as fire lighting, was seated at the long table eating her breakfast porridge. As Sam came in, she sank her head down between her shoulders as though wanting to appear small and insignificant. Aha. She knew something.

"You," Sam snapped at her. "Come with me. Now."

Cook turned from the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand. "What's the girl done this time?"

Sam opened the door. "That remains to be seen. Excuse me."

Ellen, shrinking like a terrified mouse, scuttled out of the kitchen in front of him and hurried in the direction he pointed. At the office, he held the door open for her and she went inside, her face as pale as if she were on the tumbrils that had seen such recent use in France.

Kit had taken Sam's seat and was leaning back in it, his arms folded, his face dark with anger. Sam closed the door and pushed Ellen up to the table, then went to stand behind Kit, regarding the trembling maid with a scowl intended to subdue her into cooperation.

"Well?" Kit said. "Where has she gone?"

Ellen shifted from one foot to the other, wringing her thin, reddened hands, and remained silent. She might well be too terrified to speak. Understandable, as Kit had taken on the distinct look of his father, the old viscount, who some had said bore a striking resemblance to Old Nick himself and had possessed a temper to match.

"Answer when his lordship asks you a question," Sam said, a little more gently than Kit.

The girl's eyes shot from side to side like those of a hunted rabbit seeking escape. "W-where's who gone? M'lord."

"Do not attempt to fool with me," Kit snarled, leaning suddenly forward and making Ellen step back two paces, her eyes widening so much the whites showed all around her pupils. "Where is my sister? You attended her last night. Did you assist her to abscond?"

Ellen's mouth opened and closed a few times and her eyes shot to meet Sam's for a moment. Perhaps she thought he might be her savior.

"Go on," Sam said in encouragement, keeping his voice gentle even though inside he wanted to get hold of Ellen and shake the information out of her. "Tell us where she's gone, and you won't be in trouble."

An angry snort from Kit indicated his disapproval of this promise.

"Sh-she did make me promise not to tell no one," Ellen managed to stutter. "She's my mistress. I had to do as she did say. I couldn't say her nay." Her large brown eyes looked an appeal at Sam.

"That last is true," Sam said. "How could Ellen have denied Ysella what she asked? It's not the girl's fault."

"On the contrary," Kit snapped, ignoring Sam's appeal for clemency and glaring at Ellen. " I am your master and my wife is your mistress. It is to us that you answer. Tell me everything you know. Now."

"Sh-she've gone to M-miss F-fairfield's," Ellen managed to stutter.

Kit shook his head like a bull about to charge. "On foot? And did you see her pack her bag?"

Ellen, no doubt taking courage from Sam's words, nodded. "She did pack one. She told me not to tell no one. I wasn't to help her out of her gown, acos she were goin' out later to meet her friend for some… ‘jape' she called it. If I done wrong, m'lord, I didn't mean to. I'm that sorry." She clasped her hands together in supplication, no doubt terrified of being dismissed from her position without a reference.

Kit put his head in his hands with a groan, so Sam nodded to Ellen. It wasn't her fault, no matter how much Kit might want to blame her. She'd been Ysella's easily swayed pawn. "You may go, but regard this as a lesson. If a young lady ever again asks you to keep a secret, you bring it to the man in charge of her straightaway, because she is up to no good ."

Ellen bolted.

"Do you think she's really gone to Caroline Fairfield's?" Sam asked, afraid of the answer. Every part of him screamed out that she couldn't have. That she'd done something foolish and used Caroline as an excuse to inveigle Ellen to help her.

Kit shrugged. "I suppose it's possible, but on foot? In the middle of the night? Why? She hasn't seen Caro for several months. Not since before she left for London. What with Morvoren being so ill, and us not accepting callers, Caro hasn't been over." His voice rose in hope. "I suppose it might be possible that Ysella has hatched a plan to go and see her—but in the middle of the night? Clandestinely? I don't think so. Caro wouldn't be party to that sort of thing. She's far too sensible."

Sam bit his lip. "What do you want to do?"

"We both know where she's gone. Get her back before it's too late," Kit said. "Before she compromises herself."

Sam stayed silent. Surely if Ysella had run off with Captain Featherstone, she was already compromised.

Kit shook his head. "I suppose I'll have to send James over on Lochinvar to see if she's at Caro's. Before we go off precipitously after her, I need to be sure she didn't tell Ellen the truth, unlikely as that is. We'd look a pair of chumps if she were truly at Caro's enjoying herself."

Sam nodded. But he doubted very much that James would find Ysella at the Fairfields' house.

*

He was right. James was back within half an hour with the news that Miss Fairfield had not heard from Ysella for over two months bar a short and very badly spelled letter sent from London to tell her about her presentation at the royal court.

"We were right. She's gone off with Featherstone," Kit said, throwing down the note Caroline had sent him. "That's what she's done, the strumpet. She'll be ruined. After everything I said to her, which she pretended to agree with, she's defied me. She gulled me and, like an idiot, I fell for it."

He strode across to the fireplace in the library, which was where they'd repaired to in order to await James's return.

Sam's stomach twisted in pain. That cad had Ysella in his power to do with as he wished. The thought brought a cold sweat out on his forehead and down his back. He put a hand up to loosen his collar. "Are you going after them?"

Kit nodded. "I refuse to let him get away with this. All he's after is her money. I know it, else why would he have inveigled her into running away with him?" He looked up and grinned, looking more than ever like his departed father. "What he doesn't know is that unless I agree to her marriage, the money's tied up until she's thirty. She doesn't know it, either. Even when she gets to twenty-one and her majority, I have the final say. And I'm never releasing her money to that cad."

A tiny nub of hope rose in Sam's broken heart. Perhaps if Captain Featherstone could be apprised of this fact, he might decide marrying Ysella wasn't the cure-all he imagined for his prospects. But, the downside of this was that Ysella would still be ruined and find it impossible to return to London society and make a respectable match.

"I'll order our horses saddled," Sam said. "I'm coming with you."

*

Before they could set out, the dowager had to be informed. Not something Sam relished doing. He and Kit encountered her in the breakfast room, nibbling some toast and drinking a cup of hot chocolate. Dash and Duster sat patiently by her feet, waiting for tidbits and eyeing her out of sorrowful spaniel eyes.

Lady Ormonde looked up as they entered, both dressed for the rainy day in their greatcoats and hats. Setting her coffee cup down, she dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Goodness, are you both off outside in this weather?"

Sam hung back. Let Kit break the news. He was having enough trouble keeping his own emotions under control and didn't want to have to cope with the dowager's inevitable reaction.

Kit didn't beat about the bush. "Ysella has eloped with Featherstone."

"She's what ?" Lady Ormonde almost screamed, the toast falling to the ground where Dash and Duster fell on it with relish. Her hand went to her mouth and she looked at Sam where he stood near the door. "Tell me that's not true."

He nodded. "I'm afraid it is."

She seized the edge of the table. "My smelling salts. Quickly."

Kit grabbed her reticule and fished out the little jar, unstoppering it with practiced fingers. He waved it under her nose, and she revived.

"When?" she asked. "How did you find out?"

"We don't know exactly when," Kit said. "It must have been sometime during the night. But they'll have headed north to Gretna Green, as she's too young to marry without my permission. I'm assuming they have at least a ten-hour head start. Sam and I are going after her. We came to let you know, and to warn you not to worry Morvoren with the news. I don't want her upset."

The dowager nodded, her old astute self returning. "Very wise. But Gretna Green is a long way off—several days in the fastest of carriages." A thought must have struck her. "Oh, my poor child. My baby. She'll be alone with that man for several nights. What will he do to her when he has her in his power?"

Sam clenched his fists, this thought having already occurred to him.

"We're setting out after them now," Kit said. "They must be in a carriage of some sort, because she didn't take her riding habit. We'll ride, so we'll be faster than any carriage. Don't worry, Mama, we'll catch them. I'm taking pistols."

The dowager's face paled and she reached for her smelling salts again. " Pistols ? Do you envisage having to fight to get her back? Oh, heavens above. You must be careful. The man will be desperate to succeed in his endeavor, I don't doubt." She rose to her feet and went to Kit. "Do not put yourself in danger, my darling boy. Remember, you have a wife and child who need you."

Kit bent and gave her a quick, fierce hug which she returned with fervor. "He is the one who is in danger, not me." He released her and turned to the door.

The dowager turned to Sam, her hand going out to catch his. She gazed up at him out of dark, troubled eyes. Eyes disturbingly like Ysella's. "Keep them both safe for me, Sam, I beg you. I shall rely upon your good sense to avert any danger to my children."