Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

W hile considering her new evidence overnight, Scarlett had resolved on a plan. She would walk to the post office in Leighton Buzzard, a distance of only three miles, and send the letter to Adelaide, begging her to show it to the others and plead her case. Part of her felt anxiety at letting her only proof out of her sight, but who better to trust than the one who was made in her own image?

Alas her own plans for herself were waylaid, for in the middle of breakfast a note arrived. “From Miss Leighton,” Mrs Hobson announced as she gave it to her.

Anticipating a letter from London, Scarlett frowned when she saw that it appeared to be only a note, and one that seemed to have travelled no more than the half mile between their houses .

Scarlett, pray come to me as quickly as you are able! We have returned early from London, and I must speak to you at once.

—Bess

What could have happened? Scarlett was mystified but hurried through the remainder of her meal so she could go to her friend. It was under half an hour later that she entered Bess’s bedchamber, finding her friend with an untouched breakfast tray in front of her, looking like she had not slept in an age.

Scarlett bent over and kissed her cheek, then took a seat on the bed beside her. “When did you return?”

“Late last night,” Bess told her. “Quite late and I did not get a wink of sleep either in the carriage or in this bed!”

“Poor thing! Whatever happened?”

“So much,” Bess said with a sigh. “So very much. I shall give you the short version of it all first…I am engaged to Beamish.”

“Engaged to Beamish!” Scarlett echoed. Once, such a statement would have been shrieked with delight, but Bess appeared too distressed for felicitations. “Well that is what you have always wished for, is it not?”

“It was. It is.” Bess’s pretty face looked anything but happy as she regarded her full breakfast tray.

“How did it happen?”

After a small pause, Bess admitted, “There might have been a…scandal. ”

“A scandal!”

“Just a small one.” Bess giggled, seeming a bit more like her customary good-humoured self. “We had an argument at a ball—Lady Normanby’s ball, at which he did not invite me to dance until nearly the very last set. I was already fit to be tied and my feet were positively aching, so I said no, thank you very much, ask me earlier next time.”

“You did not!”

“I assure you, I did , and furthermore I said I did not give two straws if I had to sit out the rest of the night because I was positively done to a cow’s thumb both with the ball and with him most particularly.”

“What did he say to that?”

“Oh, you know how he is.” Bess waved her hand dismissively. “The minute he sees me slipping away, he becomes the most ardent lover any girl could want. I was not meaning to fall into it, but…”

Scarlett groaned. “But what?”

“He is just so handsome! Handsome as a devil with a disposition to match—my grandmama once said that about him, did I ever tell you that? In any case, he managed to get me onto the terrace?—”

“Bess! Not the terrace!”

“The terrace indeed, and you know how it goes from there. Begging my forgiveness, kissing me on the hand, then the arm and then…” Bess shrugged. “Next thing I knew, that terrible Miss Cressida Holland came out and st arted shrieking, and before either Beamish or I could say anything, it was done.”

“What could you have said in any case?” Scarlett pointed out practically. “It seems you were, in fact, caught in the act.”

“We sealed our fates, Beamish and I. My father refuses to have a shade on my reputation. No escaping it now.”

Scarlett edged a bit closer, her effort hampered by the untouched tray between them. “But are you happy?”

“I shall be happy enough. My mother is not, but she will recover her spirits before long, I am sure. She had developed hopes in another quarter, you see.”

“Had she? With whom?”

“It is too silly to even say.”

“Come now! It is only me!”

“I think she thought Lord Oakley an excessively charming and handsome man,” Bess enthused. “Of course being titled did not hurt either.”

“Oakley.” Scarlett tried to smile though it felt like she had been punched in the gut. “I am so embarrassed by what they all must be thinking of me, though it seems I shall be able to clear myself.”

Quickly she told Bess about finding the second letter as well as her plans for it. “Once it is in Adelaide’s hands, they will surely realise the reverend was the one who was lying.”

“They all quit town right after my mother’s party,” Bess told her. “Lord Tipton, Oakley, and Worthe travelled somewhere all together.”

“Where could they have gone?”

“I cannot say. Adelaide called on me twice, outraged beyond anything! I assure you that if she ever meets the reverend in a dark corner, he had better run!”

The two ladies laughed.

“In any case,” Bess continued, “she had no more understanding of what was going on than I did, but she was absolutely certain the truth would come out.”

“I surely hope so,” Scarlett replied. “Will your mother ever forgive us for ruining her party?”

“Mama is only mortified that it is the very man she supports in the living who behaved so,” Bess assured her. “And naturally she is worried about you. She did not believe him for a moment, I promise you that.”

Scarlett moved so that she might hug her friend without the interference of the tray. “You are all so very dear to me. Pray do not forget me when you are Mrs Beamish!”

Bess hugged her tightly in return. “Of course not! I shall be too busy licking your boots when you are Lady Worthe!” She giggled. “I shall boast of the connection wherever I can!”

Scarlett left Bess’s home in utter amazement, but as amazed as she was, she could not deny there was some jealousy as well. Bess had things settled. She would be Mrs Beamish, and if she was perhaps not as much in love with Beamish as she once had been, it would soon grow between them.

Naturally thoughts of marriage led to thoughts of Worthe. What was he thinking? What was he doing even now? She could not even begin to imagine it.

It was high time she began her walk to Leighton Buzzard, so she went back to the house, retrieving the letter from where she had hidden it. She had, under her rug, a loose floorboard with a space beneath it that held all her treasures from over the years, and it was here that she had secreted the letter, as well as a small souvenir from London, and the Duchess of Duncombe’s ball.

She closed her eyes a second, summoning her dearest memory from that evening which was their time together in the courtyard. He had given her his handkerchief before they went out, because she had sneezed, and she kept it, tucking it into the little reticule that hung from her wrist and bringing it all the way back to Stanbridge with her. She hoped he was not missing it.

She unfolded it, tracing one finger over the W embroidered in one corner. How good he was, always wanting to help, always seeming to have just what she needed! She hoped she would be what he wanted and needed too. Taking it up, she pressed it to her nose and inhaled the traces of his scent left upon it. It was fading, too rapidly, and she could only hope she was reunited with the man himself before all of it was gone .

Her windows were open and at once she perceived the sound of a carriage coming down the lane. That was not alarming in and of itself; but when it seemed that the carriage was slowing to a stop outside of the parsonage, it was. Had the reverend returned earlier than planned? Hurriedly, she re-hid the handkerchief, then scrambled to her feet, running to the window in hopes that it was someone, anyone else.

But the conveyance she viewed beneath her window, and the four horses which pulled it, were very fine, finer than any she had ever seen in Stanbridge before. Thoughts of the horses and whom they belonged to were, however, dispensed with in a trice, for a man stepped out of the carriage and almost by a supernatural force raised his face to her window and immediately met her gaze.

Worthe.