An Earl Out of Time (Time Into Time) - Page 27

‘Because he bribes the footmen to tell him about her. And they tell her about it, of course.’

‘But I thought Arabella favours Sir Clement.’

‘Oh, she does. But it is terribly flattering when someone like Lord Welney takes an interest, is it not? He is so good looking, far more handsome than Cousin Clement. And he has a title and – ’

‘Where was this reception?’ I interrupted.

‘At Lord Welney’s Town house. But I am not certain that Arabella did go – Mama says she is a bad influence on me because she wagered I could not get Freddie to kiss me and it was part of my punishment not to talk to her.’

‘Very well.’ I got up and marched her back to where the gentlemen were waiting, telling myself that it was not her fault that she had the common sense of a lamb peeping out through the fence at a world full of handsome wolves and foxes. They all had glossy coats and bushy tails and wonderful eyes – and she could not see the big, white, sharp teeth.

‘I think it would be a good idea if you took Lady Henrietta home, Sir Clement,’ I said when we reached them. ‘And then if you were to come to Albany so we can discuss what I have learned? If that is all right, Cousin Lucian?’

I must have looked grim because the polite social smiles they were all wearing vanished. Lucian helped me up into his phaeton and we made for home.

By the time Sir Clement had joined us Garrick and I had rigged up an approximation of an incident board by setting an old unpanelled door on its side on top of a dresser and dividing it with lengths of ribbon into sections headed Arabella, Lord Welney, Sir Clement, Lord Cottingham and The Household. I fixed a timeline on another piece of wood and we were all writing things down on squares of paper and pinning them up in the appropriate sections.

I can’t say it was making any sense, but it gave me the reassurance that the information was under control and the illusion that we were at least doing something.

Sir Clement came in, stared, then pointed at his section of the board. ‘I am a suspect? Damn it, Radcliffe, you said you believed me! My apologies for my language, Miss Lawrence,’ he added, apparently just seeing me.

‘No problem,’ I mumbled through a mouthful of thumb tacks.

‘We do believe you,’ Lucian said. ‘But it helps us organise the information. This is Bow Street’s latest method for collating intelligence.’ We had agreed that it was not wise to let Sir Clement in on my secret and I did not think that he would believe I had come visiting armed with the most up to date methods for criminal investigation as practiced in Boston, Massachusetts.

‘Now we are all here I will tell you what Henrietta said.’ I had jotted facts down on pieces of paper and now I pinned them to the board and updated the timeline as we discussed each one.

‘That bas– swine Welney.’ Clement was on his feet, hands clenched. ‘He has got her. I will go and tear out his throat.’

‘We would come and help – but we do not have any evidence that he does have her, and if he has, for what purpose?’ Lucian said as he stood up and pressed his friend back down onto his chair.

‘Purpose? That is obvious, he has…’ He remembered my presence again and took a deep breath. ‘He has taken her for his own depraved purposes.’

‘He would have to be utterly reckless to kidnap and ravish a well-born innocent like Arabella, surely?’ I said. ‘I can well believe that London has many depraved men who would want to do such a thing – but it is also full of young women with no protection who would be much easier prey, surely? If he was tempted to capture her, how could he be certain that she had told no-one where she was going? He would assume that Lady Henrietta knows.’

‘True.’ Clement slumped back in his chair and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. ‘Then he is holding her to force Cottingham to agree to a marriage.’

‘But why for so long? Unless Cottingham is lying to us, he has no idea where she is. If Welney wanted to force a marriage then one night is quite enough to ruin the girl,’ Lucian pointed out.

‘Cottingham might be frightened for her safety and so is pretending he doesn’t know where she is,’ I suggested. ‘But I agree, one night is surely enough to achieve a forced marriage.’

‘There was no clue in Cottingham’s correspondence,’ James said. ‘But there might be hidden cupboards, I suppose. Have we got to break in again?’

‘No,’ Lucian said firmly. ‘We need to find out whether she was at Welney’s party that night. If she was, then we tackle Cottingham.’

‘But…’ Four heads turned towards me. ‘But if she went to Welney’s party, then her maid must have known – she says nothing has gone except a walking outfit, and she could hardly fail to notice a missing evening gown. And who drugged the maid? Arabella?’

‘Miss Trenton drugs the maid, simply in order to attend the forbidden party,’ Garrick said slowly, working it out as he went along. ‘She dresses up and goes to Lord Welney’s house and there meets someone who persuades her to leave with him. She returns home, changes into a walking dress… But that does not explain the locked door.’

‘Or the party was a blind all along,’ Lucian said. ‘She lets La

dy Henrietta believe they will be going, then she ensures that her friend is caught doing something mildly scandalous by making a wager with her to kiss that youth – ’

‘And Henrietta is grounded by her mother and Arabella makes her escape to whoever she has run away with, believing that Henrietta will tell everyone that she went to Lord Welney’s house,’ I finished. Then I saw Sir Clement’s expression. ‘Oh, I am sorry to be so tactless. But are you certain that she is as attached to you as you are to her?’

‘If she is not,’ he said, sounding choked, ‘then she is not only a liar but a consummate actress.’

The rest of us shot into distraction mode. Garrick got up and said he would make tea, I went to the timeline and frowned at it, Lucian and James began an earnest conversation about the weather on the night of the disappearance. After a bit Garrick came back with the tea tray, Sir Clement blew his nose loudly and we carried on as though there had been no interruption.

Tags: Louise Allen Science Fiction
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