Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

M ary knocked on the splintered wooden door, behind which they hoped to find Louisa. They heard not even the scurry of a mouse in response.

Mary waited for three thunderous heartbeats and then pounded her fist against the door. “Louisa? Let me in. It is your aunt. Please?” The longer she and Daniel spent looking for the girl, the more Mary’s anger at her niece swelled. She swallowed her fury but continued abusing the door, knuckles burning, until a rustle sounded from within the house. “Someone is there.” She met Daniel’s eyes, drawing a measure of comfort from his apparent calm. “Thank you for not interfering with my outburst.” She rested her forehead against the door and closed her eyes as much as to forestall tears as to listen to what might be going on inside.

The door opened. She rubbed her knuckles and took in the man who stood before her. Clothed in dirty linen shirtsleeves and stained breeches, he wobbled before her, unshaven and unwashed. Before she could stop herself, she covered her nose. He smelled like a pig in a distillery.

“Where is Louisa?”

“How should I know?” he slurred.

Daniel stepped forward, his fists clenched, but Mary stopped him, her ladylike scruples buried in fury. She would handle Savage.

“You took Louisa and left Bath.” The dream from the night before still worried her. What if there were guns in the house?

“She spurned me, an unnatural, repulsive woman.” He took three unsteady steps back and stumbled into a chair, placing his head in his hands. He cried like a toddler who’d broken his toy.

“Let me help him remember.” Daniel’s eyes were flinty.

Mr. Savage took Louisa, but he’d also stollen Daniel’s horses. She would not begrudge him his revenge, but she didn’t like violence. “Don’t hurt him,” she said. “Not too much, anyway.”

Daniel strode into the house and clattered around the hearth. Would he find a poker and strike Mr. Savage over the head with it? Instead, he came forward with a bucket and dumped the contents over the drunken man’s head, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slapped one cheek then the next.

Mr. Savage blustered for a moment. “Stop!” he shouted at Daniel, who released him, sending Savage to the floor.

“Where is Louisa?” Mary asked again.

“I don’t know. She is possessed. I’ve never met such a vile creature.” His red eyes narrowed on Mary, as if it were her fault.

“Now we are getting somewhere.” Mary remained calm. “Tell me what happened. I want to know everything.”

After a little cajoling on Daniel’s part, Mr. Savage began his tale, stating that Louisa had begged him to take her to Gretna Green and then locked herself in a room at an inn in Stroud. Though no one could ever say Louisa was shrewd, under the circumstance, she had done well for herself.

“You left her in Stroud?” Daniel asked.

“At the Fox and Hound.” Savage was more himself now.

Stroud? They’d passed through the town, not stopping because their horses hadn’t needed rest. Oh! If only they had stopped. “Why leave her behind after ruining her, a gentle young lady with little idea of the world?”

He met Mary’s inquiry with a full sneer and scoffed with a dismissive puff of air through his lips. “I ruin a lady? Louisa is no lady. She ensnared me , and my intentions were purely for marriage.”

Mary did not want to believe it, but she wondered.

Daniel snorted. “You are nearly twenty-five years old. Are you telling me that a chit of only seventeen tricked you into running off with her with the intent of escaping from you afterward? You did it for her money, to pay your debts and restore your sister’s dowry.”

Mr. Savage looked away.

“What will you do now?” Daniel’s voice was gentler.

“I can’t go back home until I’ve money. I can’t go anywhere.” Savage’s tone was bitter.

Daniel rubbed his chin. “I can get you employment, but the position may take you overseas. It won’t pay much at first, but it’ll get you on your feet, and if you do well, you will return to the country with your pockets lined. I’m certain you have something you can sell for your sister’s dowry, and you’ll employ someone to look after your estate.” With a sharp glimmer of hope, Mr. Savage’s eyes met Daniel’s. “The minute you enter a gambling house, I will charge you for horse theft. The manager has eyes everywhere and will know. You cannot afford a misstep.” Savage looked at the floor and nodded. “I will return tomorrow to discuss details. In the meantime, you need a wash.”

Daniel took Mary by her elbow, and together, they walked through the door and repositioned themselves in the carriage.

Mary sank into her seat. “She is not with him. I do not know how to feel.”

“It is a good sign, I think,” he said.

“Thank you for sending Mr. Savage far away. It is very generous.”

“I only wish I could do more.”

Nothing else was said for a quarter of an hour. He must have sensed her need to digest her thoughts. He patted her arm and, when a tear slipped into Mary’s lap, gave her his handkerchief.

This was the first time Mary had cried over Louisa, in relief as well as in disappointment, shame, and worry. Once she began, she could not stop, though humiliated by her squeaking sobs. Daniel endured with admirable fortitude, behaving just as he ought, asking only once if he could do anything for her, stroking her back from time to time, but for the majority of the time, pretending there was nothing amiss. His response was just what Mary wished.

When her tears were spent and she was able to speak, she said, “Tomorrow morning, I must return to Stroud and see if Louisa is there.”

“Yes, of course. And I must remain and see how my father fares.”

Mary nodded and looked out the window. She would miss Daniel. “How long until we reach your castle?” Mary asked when she could again speak without making herself a fool.

“An hour.”

Might she be introduced as Daniel’s prospective bride in the few hours she spent with his parents? She scratched at a prickling on her forehead. What had she committed to? It had seemed harmless, even fun, but now there was only an hour until the moment she would meet his family. She chafed all over and wanted to escape the ordeal by crawling out of her skin. But she would follow through with her promise. It was only for an afternoon, and how could she do otherwise when Daniel had done so much to help her?

“What do you expect of me?” her voice cracked.

“You mean…” He seemed unable to finish.

“With your family. I am to pose as your…”

Daniel cleared his throat. “You really needn’t. I can get along without the charade, and you must find your niece.” His eyes told a different story, and she could not deny him. He was her friend. He’d helped her, sacrificed his time and resources, delayed his return to his ailing father. She would keep her word and succor her aching heart afterward.

“I would like to help.”

He looked out at the passing trees, then spoke to the window. “Depending on how I find things at home, I may need to introduce you as my fiancée and come up with some explanation for your departure in the morning. I will be sorry to see you go.”

Mary sucked in a breath. Would he ask her to return?

“But we need only tell my father.” He frowned and looked at his knees.

“Won’t he tell your mother?”

“You are right. He would. But it may not be necessary. If he is well, I will have more time.”

Time for what? To find a more suitable wife than she? She swiped at an errant tear that trickled down her cheek. Ridiculous, foolish show of emotion. And for what? Mary’s stomach burned, jealous for the woman who would capture Daniel’s heart. She acknowledged the feeling, regained her composure, and, with equanimity, stamped it out. For a few hours, at least, he would be hers, if only in pretense.

Daniel’s arm slid around Mary’s shoulder, angling her toward her window. “We are nearly there. Look through the trees.” He leaned over her, pointing out landmarks with animation while being either unaware or careless that his chest pressed against her back. Conscious of every brush of his body against hers, she swallowed hard and concentrated on the view. A turret’s crowned head stuck through the trees, the first glimpse of the castle. The carriage followed a bend in the road, the trees cleared, and a great edifice emerged in the distance. A mighty, balanced piece of architecture, save for the lone turret that lent the castle’s otherwise solemn fa?ade a touch of whimsy.

“A moat? King Arthur may bound over the draw bridge at any moment.”

“Keep your sword about you. It may well be Mordred.” Daniel’s smile pulled at the ache in her throat.

They rode over the drawbridge, through the gatehouse. Mary’s eyes followed the turret. So fanciful. Perhaps a dragon resided in the tower. She would like a sojourn in the tower, the perfect place wherein to write a novel.

The carriage crunched to a halt in front of the house, and Daniel squeezed Mary’s hand, scanning her face with a darting look she could not decipher. “I am indebted to you for this,” he said, taking a deep breath before exiting the carriage and offering his hand.

Walking toward the door, a spark of anticipation tingled down her spine. The place was magic. Ivy covered one side of the castle, and wisteria hung over a front window. A rock wall, dark with age and covered in places with moss, enclosed a wild rose garden. Bees hummed around a row of lavender. She bounced on her heels, but only once. She was still a lady, even if she’d just entered an enchanted fortress where anything was possible.

They stood in front of an enormous armored door, its black wood splintering around ornate iron reinforcements. From his satchel, Daniel pulled an enormous brass key and slipped it into the lock.

Daniel looked at her, his palm on the door. “You’re excited?”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

He pushed, and the door creaked open to a circular entrance hall, cool and dim, with an earthy scent. It was perfect.

“You must go to your father,” she whispered, though she couldn’t tell why. Her voice reverberated around the hall in shushed tones, then all fell silent.

“Fix it!”

“You cow!”

“Ouch!”

Each word echoed off stone walls. Mary raised a brow at Daniel.

Daniel grimaced. “Trouble among the servants.”

“Go to your father,” she repeated.

“You don’t mind showing yourself around?”

“After riding in a carriage for nearly a week? Not at all. I will go to the kitchen for tea and then explore.”

“Follow the shouting, and you will find your tea in no time.” His lip twitched into an almost smile, but his brows drew together. Of course he was thinking of his father, anxious to discover his condition. With another apologetic look, Daniel disappeared into a dark hallway, his footsteps muffled by a red and black rug that seemed as old as the castle itself.

Alone, she scrutinized rows of portraits that decorated the entrance hall. She expected a servant to appear. But beyond the valet and the coachman who were carrying their trunks inside, there was no one.

The shouting hadn’t ceased, so Mary did as Daniel suggested and followed the noise down the same hall into which Daniel had disappeared. With meandering corridors, it was a wonder their voices carried all the way to the front door. Mary trailed after the shouting until she found the stairs that descended into a refurbished kitchen. A hearth spread over one wall, complete with a bread oven, and an array of pots, pans, and cooking utensils organized just as they ought. No kitchen was ever so neatly arranged.

Three women in white aprons and mobcaps surrounded a flour-strewn worktable. They looked up at her as one, and indeed, to Mary they were identical. Stick-thin with too-big blue eyes and thin lips, each scowled at her as if she’d poked a hole in a rising loaf of bread.

“Good afternoon.” Mary smiled and cast on her most ladylike demeanor.

“Who are you?” one of the women asked.

“I am a friend of Mr. Fletcher. He went to see his father, and since I did not see a servant, I came for my own pot of tea.”

The women glared at each other. The scowls turned to nudges. And from there, they began whispering “You do it” to one another.

“I am very well able to get my own tea, thank you.” She began by opening jars and poking around the shelves. She rearranged the burlap bags of dry goods.

“No, no. Let me help you.”

“I would never think to ask you.” Mary put up a hand and feigned innocence while unhooking several implements from the wall and exchanged their positions. She may as well teach these girls a lesson. Poor Mrs. Fletcher did not need insolence at this difficult time.

She pried open the canister of tea and spilled a few leaves while spooning them into a teapot. Water boiled over a fire, and she ladled it, steaming, into a pot.

The sisters sprang into action. No one complained, and they worked together in amiable cooperation.

The tea was steeped by the time Mary’s mess was clean. She wrapped her fingers around her cup, soothed by its heat, and sipped slowly, sitting in a corner chair that faced the women, who returned silently to their various tasks.

“That is better. If I hear you fighting again, I will make my own pudding tonight.”

Their eyes narrowed, and Mary smiled. One of them laughed, at first nervously, but when Mary’s smile did not falter, the others followed.

“Don’t think I won’t.” She dropped her grin, wanting them to know she was serious. “How is Mr. Fletcher doing after his accident?” The maids eyed one another but did not speak, a sign of their loyalty. “What are your names, and how long have you been with the family?”

Mary was relieved that through the conversation, their demeanors changed. They were at once respectful and welcoming and fell into pleasant banter.

“Mary…er, Mrs. Allen.” Daniel interrupted a story one of the sisters was telling about when she had taught her younger sister to make a cake and what a disaster it had been.

She followed him out the door and into the corridor, eager for news of his father.

“He is alive. But broken.” Daniel’s stoic voice did not hide his anxiety. “For three days after the accident, he did not open his eyes. Even now, he stays in bed most of the time.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Will he recover?”

“They are unsure. He seems to improve but falls into sudden fits of pain in his head and is tired all the time. Most distressing. He was walking alone. No one knows the cause, only that he hit his head.” Daniel rubbed his eyes before turning his uncertain gaze upon her. “He wishes to meet you.”