Thomasina Page 12

  “My lord,” she whispered.

  Longeton did not stir.

  With a gulp, Thomasina shook him timidly. “My lord.”

  Longeton sprang to a sitting position.

  Thomasina whirled away as the sheet slipped, revealing more and more bare flesh.

  “Thomasina?” Longeton asked in a strangled voice. “What has caused you to come here?” he exclaimed when his mind came to grips with the reality of her presence.

  “Dianna has run off with Lord Sternbye or, I fear she has. She must be brought back before anyone discovers she is gone or the harm done to her reputation will be irreparable,” she told him with her back still turned to the bed.

  Brutus hurriedly drew on a dressing robe and cinched the belt tight. He took hold of Thomasina’s shoulders and turned her to face him.

  Her face was lifted fearlessly to his, Thomasina worried that her trembling legs would collapse if he released her.

  “You came to my room in the middle of the night to ask me to rescue your cousin?” Brutus demanded.

  Nodding, Thomasina added hastily, “If you agree to do this, I shall wed you.

  “There is no time to be lost. Will you help?”

  “How do you know she has gone?”

  “Parker woke me. Her bed is untouched and there are signs she packed some things in a great hurry. Can catch them if we are off immediately?” she asked urgently.

  “You are truly this concerned for that hen-witted cousin of yours who has been barely civil to you?” Brutus wondered aloud.

  “Dianna is foolish, but who would not be with Aunt Augusta for a mother?” Thomasina rose to her defence. “Please, we must hurry!”

  “I hardly think we are dressed for a mad dash after an absconding pair,” he said, his smile barely traceable in the candlelight. “You are very beautiful with tousled curls,” he said and touched one.

  Thomasina stepped back, clasping the lapels of her dressing gown close, suddenly all too conscious of her appearance.

  “Did you not once consider what would happen to your reputation if you were discovered here in such a state?

  “No, you would not,” he answered wryly for her. “Return to your room, dress, and meet me at the stables.”

  “No one must know of our errand,” she admonished him.

  “Care will be taken; go now,” Brutus told her. He handled her the candle she had brought after lighting his own.

  A quick glance outside his door showed the hall still dark and empty. Thomasina sheltered the candle flame with her hand and dashed down the hall.

  * * * *

  “Good Fortune, continue to shine on us,” Thomasina prayed as she eased out the large outer doors of Thornhill and saw the grounds bathed in moonlight. Hearing the neigh of horses and the jingle of harness, she picked up her skirts and rushed towards the stables.

  “Mathew!” she exclaimed when she saw who was at the horses’ heads.

  “Quiet!” he warned her. “Do you wish to wake everyone?”

  Brutus emerged from behind the last pair. “We are ready,” he told Sherrad.

  “Inside with you, Thomasina,” he ordered. Brutus took her arm and helped her get into the enclosed carriage.

  With Mathew and Longeton led the teams drawing the light coach down the secondary path behind Thornhill. They halted them just out of sight of the main house and both men scrambled onto the coach box.

  Thomasina was almost knocked off the seat by the sudden burst of speed Brutus drew from the four when he urged them forward.

  The journey had begun.

  Chapter Twenty

  The moonlight revealed the worst dangers of the road the light coach travelled enabling Longeton to set a fast pace. Neither man spoke as they rocketed along. Thomasina was fully occupied holding onto the side straps and maintaining her seat.

  As the first wavering rays of dawn lightened the horizon, Longeton drew the sweat-lathered teams to a halt before a village hostelry.

  Sticking out her head, Thomasina saw Mathew in earnest conversation with a man who looked to be in charge of the stables. She caught a glimpse of the Marquess as he disappeared inside the establishment.

  By the time he reappeared the horses had been changed and Mathew sat, reins in hand, impatient to be off.

  “We should catch up with them before noon,” Brutus threw at Thomasina as he mounted the box.

  She grabbed the strap just in time as Mathew applied the whip to the teams.

  Mid-morn they halted once again for a change of horses and for further information.

  A boy scurried from the inn shortly after Longeton entered it bearing a cup of cool milk and hunks of cheese and bread for Thomasina. She drank the milk and returned the cup just as the Marquess came out.

  Tossing a bundle to Mathew, Brutus vaulted onto the box. All dashed out of the way as he urged the fullest speed from the fresh steeds.

  Bounced and jounced about the coach as they swerved round other coaches and carts, Thomasina began to wonder if she should have ever ventured on this journey. Brutus had said nothing about how close they were or whether they were gaining on the pair. She had long since lost all sense of direction and time.

  A shout from Mathew caught Thomasina’s ear. A sudden surge of speed made her wonder if they had the pair in sight?

  Her answer came in the form of frantic shouts, curses.

  Brutus manoeuvred his teams ahead of a coach he was certain carried Dianna and Sternbye. His teams gained the lead. The Marquess gradually forced the other coach to the skirt of the road. The angered driver cursed and unavailingly whipped his team for more speed.

  The Marquess reined his teams expertly and was rewarded by the creak of leather and the groan of splintering wood as the coach he pressed slipped down the shoulder of the road. One of its wheels split under the strain.

  Mathew jumped from the box before Longeton had managed to bring the teams to a complete halt. He raced to the tilting coach, tore open the door, and dragged a startled Sternbye roughly from it by the lapels of his frock coat. Throwing the dandy to the ground, Mathew began to climb into the coach to reach Dianna, who was screaming hysterically.

  A loud report echoed in the Viscount’s ears. A burning sensation tore through his upper arm. Realizing he had been shot, Mathew turned to face his attacker just as Longeton’s booted foot kicked the pistol from Sternbye’s hand.

  * * * *

  “Silence!” Lady Longeton commanded in the breakfast room. Her tone and presence demanded obedience.

  The Baron, Baroness, Lord and Lady Sherrad, Lord John, Nicholas, and Sir Peter stared open-mouthed at the marchioness as she dismissed the servants and closed the doors.

  “Now, Baron,” the Marchioness ordered as she sat, “You may tell me what has caused this furore.”

  Everyone burst into speech simultaneously.

  Rapping the table with her cane, Lady Longeton achieved a degree of stillness. Only Lady Augusta gasped and sobbed intermittently.

  “The Baron and the Baron alone shall speak,” the Marchioness ordered.

  “I do not know where to begin, my lady,” the Baron’s words stumbled out. “What can one make of this? Oh, dear, I do not know.”

  “If you will tell me what it is that has caused your concern, perhaps I can make something of it.”

  Her icy tone calmed the Baron. “The truth is, my lady, that my daughter, niece, your grandson, and young Sherrad have all disappeared during the night. Dianna’s bed has not been slept in while all the others appear to have been roused from theirs.

  “Lord John has just now come from the stables with the news that a coach and four are missing. Lord Stone sent a message that Lord Sternbye has absconded with his coach and pair and heavens knows what else.

  “What can it all mean?” Fresh sobs broke from Lady Augusta.

  “Stop that snivelling,” Lady Longeton ordered her curtly. “I must think.

  “John, Peter, do you know anything of the matter? Did Brutus say anyth
ing that would lead you to believe he was planning something?”

  “Nothing. But Lord Sherrad spoke the evening past that he must keep an eye on Sternbye, but did not say why,” Lord John offered.

  Sir Peter shrugged unhelpfully.

  “Nicholas, Lord Sherrad, do you know anything about Mathew’s plans?”

  Both men sighed negatively. All watched as Lady Longeton sat in deep thought.

  Her considerations concluded, she announced, “It is my belief that your daughter, Baron, has run off with that Sternbye fop. In all probability Brutus, Sherrad, and Miss Thait are pursuing them. We shall therefore maintain an outward calm. The girls will be said to be indisposed after the excitement of the evening, which will seem natural enough. Brutus and young Sherrad are on a drive—to try a new pair, perhaps.

  “Say nothing, evade questions, and we shall come out of this, hopefully, with a minimum of scars. If they have not sent word or returned by tomorrow morn, we shall consider the matter further.”

  All nodded their acceptance of this plan.

  “Baron Buckley, I suggest you take Lady Augusta to your rooms until she recovers sufficiently. Please send in Eaken,” she added as Buckley helped his wife rise. “I am famished.”

  * * * *

  “How could she do this to me?” railed Lady Augusta at her silent husband. “She is truly a daughter of your blood. Such a selfish, lying child. And one to whom I have devoted my life! No thought for anyone save herself. Buckley through and through is the stupid chit. I shall be ruined when this becomes the latest on-dit and you may be certain it will.” She wagged her fingers at him.

  “I know how people talk. They shall spread this news eagerly. I can see their faces now. How they will enjoy my mortification!” Covering her eyes, she moaned and entered their rooms.

  “Oh, why did this happen to me?” Stamping her foot, she lowered her hands. “When I get my hands on her, I shall teach her the lesson of her life,” the Baroness ranted.

  “Enough!”

  “Did you speak? What have you to say?” she asked her husband with searing sarcasm.

  The Baron’s plump face showed the tension and fear under which he laboured. “Close your mouth, woman,” he said calmly.

  Lady Augusta gasped. Her mouth worked but no words came.

  The Baron advanced and pushed her into a chair. “Now you will listen to me, Augusta,” he began with restrained fury. “I have heard enough of your words to last me a hundred lifetimes. If I had stopped you years ago as I had ought, our daughter would not now be in the hands of a ... a who knows what he is—cad or worse.

  “Have you not one thought for her? For what she may be going through?

  “Wash your face. We are going to do exactly as the Marchioness has said and if—and I say if—we are fortunate enough to get Dianna back, you are not going to say one harsh word to that child. Not one word that is not kind or loving. Do you understand?”

  Lady Augusta stared at her husband of twenty years—suddenly a perfect stranger. Never before had he raised his voice or hand to her, nor reprimanded her in any way.

  “You will do as I say,” he commanded, feeling much steadier as his wife made no move to speak or act.

  “Yes, my lord,” she answered slowly. “Do you think she shall be returned unharmed?” she asked as she stood.

  The Baron took her hand and she stepped closer to him. “I pray it be so,” he said, clasping his arms about her. “I pray so.”

  Returning his embrace, Lady Augusta laid her head upon his shoulder, something she had not done for ages.

  “Godspeed to Thomasina,” she whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “This should do nicely,” Thomasina told Mathew with a smile. She tied the last knot in the bandage about his arm. “Thank God his aim was as good as his choice in clothing. Here—let me help you,” she admonished as he fumbled with his sleeve.

  Rolling it down, she fastened the links in the cuff.

  Immediately after she finished Mathew sprang up and strode to Longeton’s coach.

  The Marquess stepped out as he approached.

  “No harm done to me,” Sherrad assured him as he saw the glance at his arm. “Dianna?”

  “She is coming about.” Brutus nodded at the coach. “Perhaps you can prevent further hysterics. I shall take care of matters here and we shall be off.”

  “Lord Longeton ...” Mathew began.

  “I would think that after this day’s work ‘Brutus’ would come more easily,” the Marquess noted.

  “It would be an honour, my lord... Brutus. I wish to thank you.”

  “Do not. It was not done on your account,” Longeton replied and strode away.

  “Do not soil your hands on the likes of him,” Brutus snorted when be saw Thomasina bent over Sternbye’s prone form.

  “I only wish to assure myself you have not killed him,” she said. She took a look at the split lip, the swollen cheek and eyes.

  “He received better than he deserved,” Brutus scoffed.

  “For once we agree,” Thomasina sighed, and stood. “What is to be done now?”

  “We shall make all haste to return to Thornhill. I hope to reach it a little after darkness falls. If I have not underestimated my grandmother, she has managed it well, and we will not have been missed.”

  “I can never thank you—”

  “You have said how you will do that,” he cut her off, not unkindly.

  Thomasina’s eyes darkened; sadness flitted across her features, followed by despair.

  “His coachman will care for Sternbye,” Longeton said roughly, jarred by her look. “Let us go.”

  Hesitating when they reached the coach, Thomasina looked at the pair within. “May I ride with you?” she asked Brutus meekly.

  “As you wish it,” he answered coldly, striding to untie the teams.

  “Why did you not wait for me to assist you?” he asked harshly when he returned to find Thomasina struggling to mount the box. “Am I that detestable?”

  “No, my lord,” Thomasina mumbled and allowed him to help her.

  Brutus waited until she was settled, then calling a warning to Mathew, sent the teams off.

  The wind against her face as they sped along was a relief to Thomasina. She stole glance after glance at the iron-visaged Brutus, thinking over all that had occurred since they first met.

  “Scoot down and cover yourself with this,” Longeton ordered her a long time later. He motioned to his cloak on the seat between them as he slowed the teams. “It will not do to have anyone see you.”

  Looking ahead, she saw the village where they had last changed horses.

  “Stay down and be still. I will see that the change is made with all haste.”

  And so it was and the same happened at the next stop. Darkness was full-fledged when Longeton drew the teams to a halt not far from Thornhill.

  “You must go to Dianna—-in case anyone is about. Tell Mathew to join me. Here, take hold of my hand,” he said as she rose to climb down.

  Thomasina gripped it as she made her way over the side of the box. His strong, vibrant pulse quickened hers. She stared at him a long moment before she made the final leap to the ground.

  Having guessed Longeton’s intent, Mathew stepped from the coach as she neared the door. He handed Thomasina in, a smile of happiness wreathing his face.

  “Oh, Tommi,” Dianna breathed as she watched her cousin settle in the seat. “I would never have believed I could be so utterly happy.”

  Both girls grabbed the straps as the coach lurched forward. When it was on a fairly smooth stretch, Dianna reached over and hugged her cousin warmly. “Thank you, Tommi. I can only wish you and Lord Longeton the joy Mathew and I share.

  “Mathew has forgiven me all and says we are to be married no matter what our parents say. Oh, how could I ever have allowed myself to be persuaded to go with Lord Sternbye? Was Mathew not marvellous? I shall never forget how he rescued me.”

  Sighing
inwardly, Thomasina bore her cousin’s constant prattle the remainder of the distance.

  The coach halted just in sight of the shadowy hulk of Thornhill. The Marquess handed the reins to Mathew and climbed down. Taking Thomasina’s hand as she stepped from the coach, he lead her aside. “Lead Diana straight ahead—-this leads to the gardens. Go through them and to the terrace. I shall cause an uproar that will draw everyone to the front of the house. When you hear the shouting, dash to your rooms. Remain there till word is sent.”

  Nodding, Thomasina went to Dianna, took her hand, and lead her away. Both girls turned for a last glimpse of the two men as the coach started forward.

  “Hurry,” Thomasina whispered.

  The young women gathered their skirts up and dashed through the brush to the gardens. They paused at the edge of the terrace to catch their breath. The din to the front sent them on their way.

  When they reached them, each leaned against the door of her room. Dianna longed to shout with joy. Thomasina refused to let the tears and sobs escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “And that is all there is to tell,” Dianna sighed. “I cannot believe the change in mother and it is only one day since I left. She has not said one harsh word and, unbelievably, has agreed that Mathew and I can be married this coming winter. Even Lord and Lady Sherrad were forgiving and very kind.” During the pause Dianna played with the pleats of her skirt.

  “I ... I want to apologize, Tommi, for—for all I have said and done. Can you forgive me?”

  “It is forgotten,” Thomasina assured her. She stood and gave her cousin a hug. “I am very happy for you and Mathew.”

  “What are your plans now, Tommi? Shall you stay here or return to Buckley House until you marry?” Dianna asked.

  Thomasina turned and paced distractedly away from her. “I do not know. Whatever his lordship decides. The Marchioness has mentioned you shall stay until midweek. I shall know by then.”

  Becoming aware for the first time of Thomasina’s haggard looks and listless manner, Dianna grew concerned. “Is something troubling you?”