Chapter 11 #2
“Nicholas,” snorted Amy. “I am quite out of kindness with him.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Amy exploded. “Why because of the way he is mistreating you! Oh, please don’t look so upset, Eleanor.
I don’t wish to distress you, but I can’t keep pretending everything is well between you.
Peter would be angry to hear I have spoken to you, but I hate dishonesty.
I’m on your side, Eleanor, and I told Nicholas so! ”
“You told Nicholas so?” repeated Eleanor faintly.
“Yes, when I met him on Bond Street. He started to pay me all sorts of silly compliments. Normally I wouldn’t mind, for he flirts delightfully, but I told him if he was in such a mood he should flirt with you. He looked quite thunderstruck, and so he should. Have I upset you?”
Eleanor shook her head. “No. I suppose I thought it would upset you to realize that things are not right with us.”
“It is always the same,” declared Amy. “Just because I have a happy disposition people think I can’t bear unpleasantness.
In fact, the opposite is true. It’s because I keep my spirits up in the face of afflictions that I’m always happy.
” She broke off with a chuckle. “Heavens, that makes me sound like the kind of person who would smile at a deathbed, doesn’t it? ”
Eleanor shared her laughter. “Well, why not in some cases? The gloom at funerals can be overwhelming and sometimes inappropriate, especially for a Christian who is supposed to be going on to better things.”
“True,” said Amy doubtfully. “But I don’t think I could be very chirpy at Peter’s funeral, or at Francis’s.”
“No, indeed,” said Eleanor with a shiver. This was cutting too close to the bone. “But that would be sorrow for our own loss. And a feeling of waste. It’s always sad to see people die young.”
Amy suddenly sat up straight. “What a morbid conversation. And I came to raise your spirits. Mother is in a terrible fret about wedding details. The church, the flowers, the wedding breakfast. I’m keeping aloof from the debate and secretly thinking of an elopement.”
Eleanor gratefully picked up the thread. “You certainly make me feel that in having a quiet wedding I had a narrow escape.”
“A quiet wedding in Paris. How romantic.”
“Yes,” said Eleanor, thinking of a bleak church in Newhaven and a short-tempered parson. “But sometimes I pine for orange blossom and bridesmaids.”
Amy grinned. “I suppose I would too. It is something we hope to do only once and so, I suppose, one should make the most of it. As long as I’m married to Peter, though, I simply don’t care.
Do you know, I miss him when we’re apart?
Even now I’m wondering where he is. Is it not ridiculous?
Do you…?” She stopped her question in embarrassment. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Do I think about Nicholas?” said Eleanor, undisturbed. “I do sometimes. But we don’t have a grand passion.”
Then she thought of their recent encounters and wondered if she lied. Was he now thinking of her? She rather hoped he was sleeping.
“Anyway,” she said prosaically, “I don’t have to wonder where he is. I know. He is at Miles Cavanagh’s rooms.”
“Oh, then it was him I saw near there on my way here. I thought it was, but he didn’t look well. I thought he looked drawn the other day, but today he looked worse.”
“Yes, I know,” said Eleanor, smoothing a tiny cotton smock. “We both need a repairing lease.”
Thought of the country suddenly linked up with her brother’s offer. If she wished to take anything from his house it would have to be soon. She explained the situation to Amy.
“A treasure hunt,” said the girl. “What fun!”
“Well, I doubt there will be any treasure,” said Eleanor. “Lionel will have sold anything of monetary value. But there are possibly a number of sentimental trifles I would like. With you to accompany me and Thomas for protection, I need not be nervous.”
So, after a light luncheon, they set out.
That evening there was a crush in Miles Cavanagh’s simple rooms. All the members of the Company were there, sitting around the table and passing the brandy decanter.
In a corner three men clearly of the lower orders talked among themselves.
One was Tom Holloway. Lord Melcham sat in an armchair by himself, sipping at a small glass of sherry.
Nicholas was at the head of the table. He was dressed in the height of elegance, obviously ready for yet another night on the town.
He addressed his friends. “Everything is arranged as best it can be. I don’t anticipate trouble, but if there is, I hope to God you can get me out of it.
Lord Melcham, you will await news here?”
“If it is not inconvenient, Mr. Delaney, Mr. Cavanagh,” said the older gentleman. “I must confess to being eager to see the fruition of so many months’ work.”
“You can’t be more eager than I,” said Nicholas dryly. He broke off as Peter Lavering burst into the room.
“Delaney, thank God I’ve found you. Amy and Eleanor have disappeared!”
There was a stunned silence followed by an uproar that was cut off by Nicholas. “Peter, sit down and tell us what’s happened.”
The large young man ignored the first instruction and paced nervously.
“I went to collect Amy from your house. She spent the day with Eleanor but was expected back, so when I called at Lady Middlethorpe’s she asked me to go for her.
Your staff were put out because they seemed to think they’d both gone to Lady Middlethorpe’s in the early afternoon.
They’d taken a footman as well, because they were stopping to pick up something from Eleanor’s old home on the way. ”
“They must have taken the carriage,” said Nicholas. His voice was level, and the look he shared with Francis was simple concern. But Francis noticed that his face in the candlelight had altered; the contours had become valleys and his eyes were almost black.
“Yes,” said Peter impatiently, “but it came back with some bits of furniture not long after they left. I went to Chivenham’s, but they said Amy and your wife had walked on to Lady Middlethorpe’s with the footman.”
He glared at a stonily impassive Nicholas and then burst out, “Your indifference to the welfare of your wife is, I suppose, your own business, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone harm a hair on Amy’s head!”
He looked acutely embarrassed at this outburst, but nobody seemed to have noticed. Everyone was staring at Nicholas, who had covered his face with taut fingers and was swearing long and fluently in a number of languages.
Suddenly he surged to his feet and slammed his fist down so the table shook. “This is the last bloody straw! Lord Melcham, no doubt you know what you can do with your damned schemes!”
He ignored that gentleman’s protests. “My friends,” he said in cold, clipped tones, “our first consideration is to get the ladies back unharmed. I have no doubt they are being held hostages for my good behavior. I don’t need to tell you my behavior is going to be very good indeed.
Everything they want they shall have. However, it is only prudent to cover for all eventualities. ”
He turned to the three men sitting in the corner.
“Shako, go and snoop around Chivenham’s house and see what you can find out.
It’s possible they are still there. Tim, run over to my house and tell them to send any news or messages here.
Peter and Francis…” He sighed as he looked at them.
“I’m so sorry. I would like you to stay here and be prepared to organize any escape which seems practicable.
But don’t take chances. I believe they are in no danger as long as I behave myself.
An unwise attack could trigger disaster. ”
He looked around at the shocked faces. “The rest of you I would like to come with me as planned. Lord Melcham, do you stay?”
“Sir,” said that man severely. “I cannot allow you to throw away everything like this.”
“You cannot stop me,” said Nicholas icily. “Do you expect me to sacrifice my wife and my friend?”
“I grant you your dilemma, Mr. Delaney. Can you not see mine? No one life is important in such a matter. If you fail us now, thousands may die.”
“That, if you will pardon me, is your problem alone. My first concern is for my wife. I have sacrificed her happiness for this cause, but I draw the line at throwing away her life.”
Lord Melcham stood, eyed him in cold disgust, then left the room without another word.
Peter broke the silence in fury. “Who the hell was he? He wanted us to wash our hands of Amy and Eleanor!”
Lord Middlethorpe put a steadying hand upon his shoulder. “Forget him.”
He looked at Nicholas, who stood as if lost in unpleasant thoughts.
It was Lucien de Vaux who went over to take a firm grip on Nicholas’s arm. “If we’re going, old fellow, we’d better go. Are you sure,” he asked lightly, “I can’t persuade you to let me try my luck with Chere Madame? My pride rejects the notion that you are irreplaceable.”
Nicholas seemed to come back to reality with a start. “Please,” he said bleakly. “Try. But at this point it scarcely matters…” He looked over at Francis and Peter. “You know I would never have risked Amy for a second.”
“Of course I know that,” Francis said.
It was Peter who burst out, “And what of your wife? By God, you’re a damned cool blackguard!”
“Peter, be quiet,” commanded Lord Middlethorpe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But Nicholas said, “He’s right, Francis. This whole thing has got out of hand and I should have cut loose long ago. It was my arrogance, thinking I was doing something important. It does not seem important at all anymore.”
He went to a mirror, arranged his dashing yellow cravat, and smoothed his jacket.
He turned back. “Look after her, Francis, if anything should happen.”
With that he and his companions swept out of the room and the two men were left alone.
Lord Middlethorpe passed Peter a glass of brandy. “Drink that. We have some waiting to do and that is always the hardest part.”
“Where have they all gone?”