The Mysterious Miss Fairchild (HQR Historical) Page 13

  He was still holding her fingers and he wondered now if their slight tremble had not been a pleasurable reaction to his touch, but fear. His heart swelled with the urge to protect her.

  ‘You may confide in me,’ he murmured. ‘You have my word I shall respect anything you tell me.’

  Emotion flashed across her face. Surprise, perhaps, and relief, although for what, he had no idea.

  ‘That is very good of you.’ Her voice was low, serious, but she shook her head. ‘It is nothing. A mere irritation of the nerves.’

  Not good enough, Natalya, you are unhappy and I want to know why.

  ‘It is very hot in here. Let us walk across to the open window.’ He lifted her fingers on to his sleeve and for a moment he rested his hand over hers. ‘Why should you be nervous? It is your birthday. A day for rejoicing, surely.’ He paused for a heartbeat. ‘Are you missing my nephew?’

  ‘Freddie? No, not in the way you mean. Naturally I would have liked him to be here. As a friend.’

  The look she gave him was reassuring, but he had to be certain. Suddenly it was vitally important that he did not misunderstand her.

  ‘And you really have no plans to marry him?’

  They had reached the window, where the barest breeze wafted in, bringing with it the faint rustling of the trees in the park. He scooped two glasses of wine from a passing waiter and gave one to Natalya. She took a sip, staring down into the street below. He waited in silence, enjoying the view of her profile, with its straight little nose. There was the slightest droop to her mouth and he wished he might take that determined little chin between finger and thumb and tilt her face up to him. He wanted to kiss away the unhappiness that hung about her like a cloak.

  At last she turned to him. ‘I will not marry Freddie and I have told him so. I confess it would be tempting to know my future was secure, but he is too young.’

  ‘He is but a few months younger than yourself.’

  ‘In age we are almost equal, yes, but...’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I like him too much to tie him down. In another few years he will meet the love of his life, a young lady who will suit him far better than I.’

  ‘I think so, too.’ She flinched and he added quickly, ‘I am saying I believe you are not suited, not that you are in any way an unsuitable bride.’

  ‘You do not know that.’

  The words were so low he almost missed them.

  ‘And you do?’

  She hesitated and he waited again, hoping she would confide in him. After a long, long moment she laughed, not very convincingly, and took another sip of wine.

  ‘Of course not. But as for marriage, how can any of us predict the future, my lord? I believe many happy unions are born from the most unpromising beginnings.’ She turned her back on the window and smiled, ‘But this is all too serious for today. Freddie told me that you are a member of the Royal Society—do tell me what that is like! Do you attend many lectures, do you know many of the fellows?’

  He followed her lead, describing some of the lectures he had attended. Natalya showed a gratifying interest in all he said, especially when he told her of the talks about ancient Egypt. Her questions were pertinent and he was persuaded to describe for her his visits to the British Museum.

  ‘I should like to see the Egyptian antiquities,’ she told him. ‘I believe the collection is now quite extensive, following our success there against Bonaparte.’

  ‘The artefacts are quite fascinating, but as I understand it, they are nothing compared to the ruined temples and the pyramids in Egypt itself. I should like to go there and see them for myself, now the war is over.’

  ‘So, too, should I. Very much.’ Her eyes were shining at the thought of it and she flushed slightly, as if embarrassed at her enthusiasm. A little laugh escaped her. ‘I have travelled so little that even London would be a novelty for me! How I envy those who made the Grand Tour, before the war with France put an end to such things. Just imagine how exciting it must be, to visit the capitals of Europe, to put to use all those languages I have learned. Ah well, it is not impossible that I shall visit Egypt one day, if...’

  He smiled. ‘If what, Natalya?’

  She shook her head and he had the impression she stifled a sigh.

  ‘Nothing. I am being nonsensical.’ She looked up, saying brightly, ‘Have you been to Stonehenge? We went there last year to explore the great stones and I was most intrigued. I should so like to know who built them and for what purpose.’

  ‘You enjoy speculating about the past, then?’

  Her eyes dimmed a little.

  ‘More so than the future.’

  She had withdrawn from him. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was looking past him, her face once more a polite mask. He heard the rustle of silks as Mrs Pridham came up and took her niece’s arm.

  ‘Natalya, my dear, Lord Fossbridge has been waiting this past half-hour to speak to you.’ She turned to Tristan, all smiles and condescension. ‘Pridham and I are quite delighted you could come this evening, my lord, but I hope you will excuse me if I carry Natalya away, there are so many of her friends who wish to speak to her.’

  Tristan bowed and stood aside. He had not missed the wistful, almost anxious note in Natalya’s voice as she mentioned the future. What was she afraid of? Confound it, his secretary should have found out something about the girl’s background by this time! He would write Charles another note. Or better still, he would go to London himself.

  But why bother with all that? What is Natalya Fairchild to you?

  The thought brought his head up quickly. He was not sure he was quite ready to admit that, even to himself.

  * * *

  Natalya felt Tristan’s eyes on her as she went about the room. Not that he was standing apart, staring at her, as Freddie had been wont to do when he first came to Bath. Lord Dalmorren was too much of a gentleman for that. However, she could not shake off the feeling that he was observing her and she could not deny she would have liked to watch him, too.

  She thought the evening would be an intolerable bore if he was not present. He was not the only well-travelled, educated man here this evening, but he was certainly the most attractive. He had a way of looking at her as they conversed as if she was the only other person in the room. As if every word she uttered was of importance to him. Earlier she had found herself studying his handsome face, wondering how it would feel if he kissed her. She thought he wanted to do so, if she had read correctly the warm glow in his eyes as he carried her off to the window to talk.

  Stuff and nonsense, Natalya! The man was merely being polite.

  Her eyes kept straying back to him throughout the evening. True, he looked to be happy enough conversing with the Grishams, then with Major Moffatt and even old Colonel Fossbridge, but she thought he might find occasion to speak to her again before the party ended.

  At least, she hoped he would do so.

  * * *

  Eleven o’clock and still the reception rooms were full. Natalya might not be considered quite the thing by most of the high sticklers in Bath, but she noted that none of them had refused an invitation to celebrate her coming of age. They might regard her doubtfully, even ignore her in the street, but they were determined to remain and enjoy the lavish supper provided by the Pridhams. Her only regret was that Jane Grisham and her family had been obliged to leave because they were travelling to London early the following morning. Apart from Mrs Ancrum, they were her closest friends and she would miss their company in Bath.

  Lord Dalmorren had made no attempt to speak to her again. Perhaps he had come tonight only to assure himself that she no longer had designs upon his nephew. The thought both angered and disappointed her, although she did her best to shrug it off. If that was the case, then he was quite odious and she did not care a jot what he thought of her!

  In anticipation of the crowd, Mrs
Pridham had brought in extra staff to wait upon her guests and, as everyone was preparing to go in to supper, one of these newly hired footmen slipped a note into Natalya’s hand. She was so surprised that for a moment she merely stared at the folded paper, then she hung back from the crowd and surreptitiously read the message.

  It was a plea, couched in the most urgent terms, for her to meet the writer in the garden. She frowned at the signature, but it was too much of a scrawl. She did not recognise the writing and although she thought the signature began with an F, she could not be sure. She read the final line again.

  Tell no one. Do not fail me!

  Natalya caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She could think of no one but Freddie who would ask her to engage in a clandestine meeting. She frowned. Had he not yet left Bath? Perhaps he had had a run of bad luck at the gaming tables and needed funds to travel to Surrey.

  Instinctively she looked around for Tristan, thinking she should take the note to him, then she changed her mind. Surely Freddie would have sent the note to his uncle if he had wanted to involve him. From all Freddie had told her she knew he thought a great deal of Lord Dalmorren. It was most likely that the poor boy was embarrassed to approach him. Dear Freddie, doubtless he was making a crisis out of something that would most likely prove to be no more than a silly, insignificant little matter.

  Everyone else had left the room. Natalya crossed to the windows at the rear of the house. They overlooked the small garden, but from the lighted room she could see nothing. It was enveloped in darkness. She knew there was no way into the garden except over the neighbouring walls on either side, or through the coach house that opened on to the mews. If Freddie was there, then he must have bribed a servant to let him in through the house. My, how she would tease him about this!

  She hurried downstairs, slipped past the kitchens and out into the garden. It was quite dark now, but still warm. A sliver of moon hung in the sky and, once her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, she could see the outline of the trees that lined the narrow path, although everything beneath them was in deep shadow. She felt very conspicuous in her white gown, which glimmered in the darkness.

  ‘Freddie?’ she called his name softly.

  There was a movement in the shadows beside her and she turned.

  ‘Freddie, what on earth—?’

  The words were cut off as a large hand clamped a wad of cloth over her nose and mouth. She was caught in an iron grip, a strong arm around her waist almost lifting her off her feet. She struggled, trying to breathe through the material over her face. Then everything went black.

  Chapter Ten

  The evening passed slowly for Tristan. There was no shortage of conversation, but he acknowledged to himself that the only reason he stayed was the chance of another word with Natalya. The Pridhams seemed intent on keeping him away from her, but he was determined to talk to her again before the end of the evening.

  He escorted Mrs Ancrum to supper and they were soon joined by Tristan’s old friend, Major Moffatt, and his wife. No one could fault his attention to his companions, but although he listened with half an ear as Mrs Ancrum and the Moffatts discussed the imminent arrival of the Allied Sovereigns and the celebrations for the Peace arranged in London, he was all too aware that Natalya was nowhere to be seen. On the main table, Mrs Pridham was speaking earnestly to her husband and a few moments later she slipped out of the room.

  ‘You’re very distracted, Tris. Something wrong, my friend?’

  Major Moffatt, sitting beside him, had leaned closer to refill his glass. Tristan met his eyes and decided against prevaricating.

  ‘I was looking for Miss Fairchild. Seems damned odd that she should disappear from her own party.’

  The Major pushed the decanter away.

  ‘Not sure if it is of any relevance,’ he said slowly, ‘but I was one of the last to come in to supper. My dashed leg, you know. I like to wait, rather than hold up everyone else. I noticed Miss Fairchild reading a note.’ He continued in the same carefully indifferent voice, ‘Could have been a billet-doux.’

  Tristan considered. It was most likely from Freddie, apologising for his absence on her special day. Why would he do that, though, when he had taken his leave of her in person? He frowned. Besides, it was not like Freddie, who found putting pen to paper a laborious chore. After a moment he excused himself from his companions and left the supper room.

  In the hall, Mrs Pridham was talking to a maidservant. When the girl had hurried away, he approached his hostess.

  ‘Is anything amiss, ma’am? Can I be of assistance?’

  She jumped. ‘What? Oh, no, no, my lord. I was...er...merely having a word with the staff. We have hired extra servants, you see. One needs constantly to keep an eye upon them.’

  ‘Forgive me, but surely that was Miss Fairchild’s maid I saw in the hall just now,’ he persisted. ‘I trust your niece is not ill?’

  ‘Natalya?’ Mrs Pridham gave a little trill of laughter. ‘No, she is not ill, my lord. Nothing of the sort. Natalya is never ill. Only...only it has been a long day and she is a trifle fatigued by all the excitement. She has gone to her room. That is all.’

  She had retired from her own party! But perhaps it was not quite so strange. There was a notable absence of young people and no dancing. Tristan felt a stab of disappointment that she did not think his company worth staying for, but he shrugged it off. Most likely she was missing Freddie a great deal more than she would admit.

  Mrs Pridham touched his arm. ‘Do, pray, go back to your supper, Lord Dalmorren. My niece would not wish to have any attention drawn to her absence.’

  If Natalya was not coming back, then there really was no point in his staying any longer. Tristan gave his hostess a tight smile.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I had not intended to remain so long, ma’am. I shall take my leave of you now.’ She looked surprised, but he gave her no time to speak or persuade him to stay. ‘There is no need to send out for my carriage,’ he told her as he bowed over her hand. ‘I shall walk around to the mews and find it myself. Good night to you, Mrs Pridham.’

  Outside the night was balmy. Tristan regretted now that he had brought his carriage. After all, it was not far to George Street, he might easily walk. Confound it, he would much prefer to walk. Beyond the flickering street lamps, a crescent moon was sailing in a cloudless sky. He recalled what James Moffatt had told him about Natalya receiving a note and he glanced up at the moon again. It was a perfect night for a midnight assignation.

  Hell and damnation! Could it be that Freddie had duped him, that he had not yet left Bath? Perhaps Natalya had not retired. Perhaps they were even now in the garden together. Jamming his hat on his head, Tristan strode quickly to the far end of Sydney Place and made his way around the corner. As he had thought, the rear of the terrace was completely enclosed by a high wall. There would be neighbouring gardens on either side of the Pridhams’ residence and the mews buildings along the back. No easy way in or out, save through the house or the coach house.

  ‘Bah! You have let the woman get under your skin,’ Tristan muttered. ‘Get yourself home to bed, man.’

  He found his carriage without difficulty. It was pulled up at the entrance to the mews, the driver and footman sitting together on the box. They were both slumped, the coachman’s hat pulled low as if he was asleep, but he heard Tristan’s approach and he straightened, elbowing his companion in the ribs to rouse him. As the sleepy footman scrambled down, Tristan exchanged a word with the coachman.

  ‘All quiet here, John?’

  ‘As the grave now, my lord,’ replied the old retainer cheerfully.

  ‘Now?’

  The coachman grunted. ‘About a half hour ago a carriage comes hurtling out o’ the mews.’ He jerked a thumb towards the footman, standing now beside the open carriage door. ‘Poor Simon there was walking around and had to jump out o’ the
way.’

  ‘You sustained no hurt, I hope, Simon?’

  ‘No, my lord, although the driver was whipping up his horses like the devil was on his heels!’ the footman chuckled. ‘John says to me that like as not they are on their way to Gretna!’

  A chill ran through Tristan as a scenario took shape in his mind. Natalya slipping away from her own party. A speeding coach. It all made sense. She was one-and-twenty now, she could marry whomsoever she wished, but Freddie was not yet of age, so they would have to fly to the border. So, Freddie’s leaving Bath early had been nothing more than a ruse. The chill was ousted by a white-hot rage.

  ‘Devil take ’em both,’ Tristan muttered as he jumped into his own coach, ‘Drive me home, John!’

  They lurched away, pulling into Sydney Place and rattling through Great Pulteney Street with Tristan scowling into the darkness, but it did not take long for his initial anger and suspicion to subside. He knew Freddie. The boy could not have deceived him so cheerfully if he had been planning an elopement. And Natalya. He recalled how anxious she had been.

  ‘I feel like a sacrificial virgin.’

  Suddenly he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

  * * *

  Natalya felt sick. She was lying on a hard leather bench that lurched and swayed. A moving coach. Cautiously she opened her eyes. She could not see anything inside the carriage, but the squares of dark blue-grey sky showed her that the blinds had not been pulled down. Against the window in the opposite corner was a black outline. A woman in a poke bonnet and with narrow shoulders. The fog was clearing from Natalya’s mind and cautiously she pushed herself up on the seat.

  The woman put out her hand. ‘Drink.’

  Moonlight glinted on a metal flask. Natalya took it and removed the stopper. She sniffed cautiously, then took a sip. Water. Some of Natalya’s terror eased. She took another sip, then addressed her companion with all the authority she could muster.