An Improper Companion

‘I do not know this piece well,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but I am willing to try if you will forgive my mistakes.’

‘We shall not scold her if she plays a wrong note, shall we, Mama?’

‘Do not tease Elizabeth,’ his mother told him, looking on complacently. The evening could not have gone better in her opinion.

The earl had a fine tenor voice and they blended well together. Elizabeth managed to find her way through the piece without too many mistakes and left the pianoforte at last just as the tea tray was brought in. The earl then excused himself, saying that he had work to do, and soon after the ladies made their way to bed. It was not until Elizabeth was undressing that she realised she had forgotten to bring herself a book to read.

She hesitated, but decided it would not do to go wandering about her employer’s house half-dressed at night. She would instead write a letter to her brother.

Sitting down at the desk provided for her use, she spent half an hour composing her letter. She told Simon about her meeting with Mr Elworthy, and went on to say that she had heard it on good authority that he was a perfect gentleman, suggesting that nothing could come of insisting on a meeting. She also hinted that she thought Sir Montague dangerous and advised her brother to stay well clear of him.

It had taken her a while to find the right words, for she knew her brother’s fiery temper; it would not do to advise Simon too strongly or he would likely do just the opposite in a fit of rebellion. Laying down her pen, she sanded her letter and sealed it, then stood up to glance out of the window. As she did so, she saw a horseman riding away from the house. The night was quite dark and it was difficult to see, though she thought it was the earl himself.

Where could he be going at this hour? It was surely too late to ride out for pleasure and much too late to go visiting—unless, of course, he was visiting his mistress. Elizabeth squashed the suspicion—it was none of her business, and she ought not to be curious about things that did not concern her.

Retiring to bed, she slipped beneath the covers and closed her eyes, but her mind was busy and she did not sleep immediately. She was sure that she would enjoy her work for Lady Isadora, because she was willing to be pleased, and Elizabeth would find her duties light enough. However, she was not sure that she approved of the earl, though she could not put her finger on why she should have doubts concerning him. He was obviously generous to his mother, and though perhaps a little lazy—or indolent, as he called himself—seemed good-humoured. Why then did she suspect there was much more to Lord Cavendish than he cared for anyone to know?

‘Does he suspect anything?’ Daniel asked of his friend as they met that night at the Cock and Hare Inn, some three miles distant from Cavendish. ‘He did not think it strange that you consented to dine with him, and to drink yourself almost insensible?’

‘I was careful to keep my wits about me,’ John Elworthy said, smiling oddly. ‘And when he suggested a hand of cards to while away the time, I pretended to fall asleep, and sat snoring by the fire until he went up.’

‘Did you learn anything that might help us?’

‘Sir Montague is very close-mouthed,’ Elworthy told him with a frown. ‘But he did say something—just after Miss Travers left the room. He seemed surprised at the way she behaved for he did not know her, and when I told him who she was he looked strange.’

‘You said she left abruptly when he entered?’

‘Yes. We had been speaking of her father—she does not believe that Sir Edwin would willingly have gambled away his estate.’

‘She has told me as much,’ Daniel said. ‘We know that Forsythe and his cronies prey upon the young idiots who venture to town with a pocketful of gold and hardly any sense in their heads. Although we may disapprove, we do not have the right to interfere other than to issue a warning if we get the chance. However, there is this other business…’

‘Do you truly believe that Forsythe is involved in that?’ John looked at him incredulously. ‘The abduction of young girls for sale into houses of prostitution—it is a wicked thing, Daniel. I can hardly believe that a gentleman would do such a thing.’

‘It would never have crossed my mind if we had not happened to be there that night—when Lady Elworthy’s youngest sister was almost abducted…’ Daniel looked angry. ‘I dread to think what might have happened to Maria, John. And you know that she firmly believes Sir Montague had something to do with it.’

‘Yes, I do know that she suspects him. We have talked several times for it is not a subject that she feels able to discuss with anyone else. She has not told her sister or my brother what happened, because she thinks people would believe she had done something to encourage the attack, though of course she did not. But as far as Sir Montague is concerned, she says that when she refused his offer of marriage he threatened that she would be sorry—and something the men said as they were trying to capture her made her believe he was at the back of it.’ John frowned. ‘Perhaps it was merely planned as an abduction, to force her into marriage. She is, after all, an heiress and Forsythe has already run through more than one fortune.’

Daniel was thoughtful. ‘You know that Charles Hunter’s young sister Sarah was abducted a year ago, of course.’

John nodded. ‘It was a terrible thing, Daniel—and nothing has been heard of her since?’

‘Nothing. Mrs Hunter was so distressed that she had a mental breakdown and has not come out of her room for the past six months—and Charles has vowed to kill whoever was responsible if he ever discovers who it was.’

John Elworthy nodded and looked solemn. Lady Elworthy’s younger sister was young enough at seventeen, but Charles Hunter’s sister had been no more than sixteen when she disappeared when out walking near her home. To imagine her fate if she had fallen into the wrong hands was unimaginably horrendous.

His eyes narrowed. ‘I think I should have gone mad with grief if we had not recovered Maria that night. I cannot imagine how Hunter must feel.’

‘Angry, bewildered, frustrated,’ Daniel said toying with the handle of his tankard as he struggled to control the fierce emotions raging within. ‘He has been drinking too much of late. It was only my intervention that kept him from playing cards with Forsythe the other evening. Imagine what they would have done with him in a fit of recklessness! He might have been ruined as well as broken in spirit.’

‘Poor fellow,’ John said. ‘But I still cannot believe that gentlemen would be involved in such wickedness, Daniel. One hears from time to time that a pretty maidservant has gone missing and wonders if the poor creature has been spirited off to a whorehouse—but the daughters of gentlefolk…’

‘Young, innocent and virgin,’ Daniel told his friend grimly. ‘If men will pay for such things, there are those that will supply it—even to the extent of sending the girls abroad to eastern potentates.’

‘No!’ John looked sick. ‘Do you think…?’

‘I surmise nothing,’ Daniel told him. ‘I am determined to find proof somehow—and believe me, I shall one of these days. Sir Montague is being watched day and night. Wherever he goes, one of my spies follows. If he makes a wrong move, we shall have proof this time.’

‘Sir Montague has an evil temper,’ John said, his forehead creasing. ‘Be careful, my friend. If he is what we believe him, and suspects that you are investigating his affairs, he would not hesitate to have you killed.’

‘I am aware that he is dangerous,’ Daniel said. ‘Some think him just an opportunist, and feel no pity for the flats he fleeces—but I believe there is much more to him. I have wondered if perhaps Sir Edwin stumbled on something he should not have seen.’

‘You think that he may have been drugged, forced into making that wager somehow? But why? I do not see how…’

‘He may have been forced to drink too much—or take some foul drug. Where the wager comes in I do not know, unless Sir Montague saw some profit in it for himself. And if he wished to dispose of Sir Edwin—what better way to cover murder than to ruin him in public and make it seem that he had taken his own life in a fit of despair? But that is mere speculation and I keep an open mind,’ Daniel said. ‘But you said he looked strange when he saw Miss Travers—did he say anything?’

‘Only that the fool had it coming,’ John said. ‘And that his daughter might think herself lucky…’ He frowned. ‘Do you think he meant some harm to her?’

‘It is possible, but we must not speculate too much for the moment. We must listen and watch, and when the time is right we shall act,’ Daniel said. ‘At least Miss Travers is safe enough with Lady Isadora—but I have vowed to help Charles Hunter find his sister, and to discover what I may about Forsythe’s affairs. What I need is proof.’

Daniel stared moodily into his tankard. He had hardly touched his ale; when he thought of the possible fate of Sarah Hunter, he was sick to his stomach with anger. She had been but a child, sweet and pretty and trusting. Several times he had been on the point of forcing a duel on Sir Montague, but he had fought his natural desire for revenge, knowing that one man alone could not be responsible if something evil was afoot. He must wait, watch and listen until the time was right.

Elizabeth rose early as was her usual habit, washed and dressed in a plain grey skirt and a pretty white blouse with a high neck, which she fastened with a gold brooch. She looked elegant despite the plainness of her dress, her hair swept back from her face into a knot in the nape of her neck.

She knew that the household would hardly be stirring, but she wanted to begin her duties. It was not likely that Lady Isadora would have need of her before eleven, for she did not come down until noon. That meant Elizabeth would have some free hours in the mornings, which she might spend in one of several ways. She could walk down to the church with flowers, tend the vases in the house—or begin work on the library.

She had decided to make a start in the library, for she thought it would be best to consult the gardeners before raiding the garden for flowers. She knew from experience that it was unwise to pick blooms without first consulting the man who tended them, who could often be fiercely protective of his flowerbeds.

As she went downstairs she met one of the maids, a young girl dusting in the hall, who looked startled when Elizabeth smiled at her and asked if she might borrow one of her feather dusters.

‘Have I missed summat, miss?’ the girl asked, looking puzzled.

‘Oh, no, I am sure you have not,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I am to work in the earl’s library and I wish to begin by dusting some of the books.’

‘Are you sure, miss? Only none of us is allowed to touch ’is lordship’s books.’

‘I promise you that I have permission,’ Elizabeth said, hiding her amusement as the girl reluctantly handed over one of her feather dusters. She made her way to the library, feeling a tingle of excitement as she entered the long room.

She looked round her with satisfaction, thinking about where she wished to make a start, for it would be best to plan her work rather than rush into it and find that she must begin again. Noticing that there was a shelf with rather fewer books on it than the others had, Elizabeth decided to investigate. It was at the far end of the room, and it was only as she reached the shelf that she realised that someone was lying on the sofa, which faced it. She halted, her heart catching as she saw it was the earl, and he looked as if he might have been drinking the previous evening. There was an empty decanter of brandy on a small wine table beside the sofa and his glass had fallen from his hand. He looked vulnerable, younger in his sleep, and, as she bent to retrieve his glass from the floor, he murmured a woman’s name and moaned as if in some distress. He opened his eyes and looked at her just as she was straightening up, his face on a level with hers.

‘Good God,’ he said in a voice of what she took to be revulsion. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Forgive me,’ Elizabeth said, embarrassed. ‘I did not know you were here, sir. I was about to make a start on dusting some of the books before putting them into order.’

The earl sat up, groaning as he felt the pain in his head. He remembered his foul mood on returning home the previous night, the frustration he had felt at being unable to get any nearer to finding Charles Hunter’s sister. He had foolishly started drinking brandy, and this was his just punishment.

‘I shall go,’ Elizabeth said as he gave her what she thought was a look of dislike. ‘I am sorry…’

‘Why? It is I who have reason to be sorry,’ Daniel said, uttering a muffled curse. ‘I had forgotten where I was as I woke. Please do not go. I thought myself in my bedchamber and it startled me when I saw you bending over me.’