Chapter 13
Eleanor spent the next day waiting for Nicholas to return.
Francis and Lucien came separately and together six times to enquire, although they knew she would send word immediately.
After Lucien’s third exit—because of a pressing engagement elsewhere—he sent round one of his father’s magnificent liveried footmen to wait and bring the news to him immediately.
The tall and handsome young man created quite a stir in the household.
Try as she might to remain calm, Eleanor grew frantic as the day passed.
She couldn’t eat, could hardly sit still.
Her child was moving inside her now, and it too seemed to be affected, causing almost constant flutters and bumps.
Each ring of the bell or footstep in the hall had her on her feet ready for news or the hoped-for appearance of Nicholas.
Close to dinner, Francis called again. At the sight of his questioning, fearful face she burst into tears in his arms.
“Surely he should be here by now, Francis. What if he’s dead!”
He patted her back. “There, there. Come now, Eleanor. Nicholas leads a charmed life. He’ll be fine.”
“Luck can run out,” she said, pulling away and wiping the tears away with her handkerchief.
“No reason for it,” he said with forced cheerfulness. “He’s just been delayed.”
Where? By whom? Eleanor took control of herself and sat down. “Has anyone visited that woman’s house?”
“Yes. Con and Miles went over. Madame Bellaire and her entourage left suddenly in the night. The place is in an uproar. She neglected to pay the wages.”
“And Nicholas?”
“They believe he left with the French-woman.”
“But that is to be expected,” said Eleanor. “That was the plan.”
He hesitated and then explained. “He wasn’t seen leaving. Con and Miles bullied their way in and searched the place. They didn’t find him, at least.”
Eleanor felt an icy chill. He was talking of Nicholas’s body.
“What more can be done?” she asked, her voice husky.
“Nick’s plan was to put Madame on a ship in Bristol,” he said with forced briskness.
“We didn’t think he’d escort her there after all this, but Stephen and one of Nicholas’s men have gone there to make enquiries.
We have people checking the London docks.
We’re also making enquiries on all the toll roads out of London.
It’s doubtless just a delay. We should know something soon. ”
He stayed for dinner and bullied her into eating a little. Eleanor told herself that a day’s delay was nothing, particularly if Nicholas had gone to Bristol. And he doubtless had no opportunity to send a message.
She did not sleep well for expecting him to return in the night hours.
Early the next morning Lucien came round to tell her that Madame Bellaire’s party appeared to have gone toward Bristol as planned, and that they could surely expect Nicholas to return late in the day, or the next at the latest. Francis had gone to check with a certain government official who was connected to the business, for he had his own people observing matters and might have more details.
“So there’s no point in sitting here waiting, Eleanor,” he said cheerfully. “I insist you come out with me for a drive. I’ve even brought around my mother’s staid barouche. After such a sacrifice, you can’t deny me.”
It drew a smile from her. “But what if…?”
“What if Nicholas turns up? My man’s here and will soon find us, for we’ll just take a turn around the park. And besides, would it not serve him right to have to kick his heels?”
Eleanor gasped, then bit her lip at the immediate assent she felt. If he was safe, and he was surely safe, he had some penance to do. “I will just ring for my bonnet and shawl.”
“Good girl.”
Lord Middlethorpe was shown into Lord Melcham’s office. “I hope the lists were all you hoped, sir.”
“Indeed, yes,” said the older man, rubbing his hands.
“A fine job of work! I have already sent details to the other governments concerned. The whole dastardly plan is crushed. I would like to thank Mr. Delaney in person for his change of heart. I understand his wife’s disappearance was not in fact concerned with this and that she is now safe? ”
“That is the story given out, sir,” said Francis. “It is not true. Nicholas had no change of heart. He made sure his wife and my sister were safe, and I have no idea how he also obtained the lists. We assume the abductions were a freakish start by a jealous woman.”
Lord Melcham shook his head. “A lesson to him to keep away from such,” he said disapprovingly, apparently forgetting the reason for Nicholas’s behavior.
Lord Middlethorpe suppressed a desire to land the man a crushing facer. “Nicholas has disappeared, sir,” he said tightly. “His friends are most concerned.”
“Disappeared?” queried Lord Melcham blankly. “Do you fear something has gone amiss? But I have just received information that Madame Bellaire made all speed for Bristol and took ship last evening for Virginia, as planned.”
“Was Nicholas with her?”
Lord Melcham took out a document. “I have not had time to read the full report.” He muttered to himself as he skimmed through.
“Ah! She was accompanied by a number of men, one in particular being a handsome gentleman with blond hair, who my man was told was Mr. Delaney. But instead of coming off the ship to report to my man, as arranged, he remained on when the ship sailed. It would seem,” he said, looking up, “your friend had a change of heart.” He winked.
“A damned fascinating woman, I understand, and he’s still a young man, easily swayed. ”
Lord Middlethorpe had never felt so violent in his life, but any action against a man old enough to be his father went against all his breeding. Fists clenched, he merely snapped a cold, “Good day to you, Lord Melcham,” and stormed out of the room.
What the devil was he going to tell Eleanor?
Had Nicholas gone willingly? Lord Middlethorpe had been forced to watch his friend playing the lover most convincingly with Madame Bellaire, and now doubts began to eat at him. Could a man act so well? He was sure he could not. Was there some attraction there still, even if mired in disgust?
But what the devil was he going to tell Eleanor?
He arrived at Lauriston Street just as Eleanor was taking off her bonnet. Lucien had already left, which was perhaps as well as he was inclined to judge Nicholas harshly as it was. Eleanor was smiling, and the fresh air had brought color to her cheeks.
“News?” she asked. It took a moment for her smile to fade, for her color to fade. “Tell me, please. I would much rather know.”
He took a deep breath. “According to one report, Nicholas boarded ship with Madame Bellaire for Virginia last night.”
Her eyes grew enormous. “Just walked on?”
“That is what was said. I’m waiting to hear from Stephen before I believe it.”
Eleanor sat down, looking like a pallid wax statue. “Do you think he loves her?” she asked.
“No.” He strove to put every ounce of certainty into his voice. “Eleanor, it has always been hard for him to keep up the pretense of love with Madame Bellaire. He’s spoken to me of this. I cannot believe that has changed.”
Eleanor twisted a piece of linen in her fingers. At first he had thought it was a handkerchief, but now he saw, with an aching heart, it was a napkin with an old bloodstain upon it. He couldn’t think what to say that wouldn’t make matters worse.
Suddenly she straightened and seemed to gather her resources. “I feel better,” she said to his amazement. “I have been so afraid he was dead, you see. I cannot think they would preserve his life thus far merely to dump him in the ocean.”
“I suppose not,” he said, though he was not so sure. He found her sudden recovery strange and rather worrying.
He went straight home and insisted that his mother allow Amy to resume her visits.
“My child was abducted from that house!” protested his mother. “I always knew disaster would come from your association with Nicholas Delaney. Amy would be safer well away.”
“I assure you she is in no danger now, Mother, and Eleanor needs a friend.”
The permission was reluctantly given, and Amy too was amazed by the spirits Eleanor was showing. It soon became clear to her, however, how meaningless they were.
Eleanor busied herself with nothings. Her mind skittered from subject to subject, and though she sat to meals she ate little.
Amy suspected she did not sleep. Hollygirt told her that when there were no guests she sat in the study staring into space.
He wished to know whether he should send for Lord Stainbridge, who was at Grattingley, even though Eleanor had rejected the suggestion.
Amy consulted Francis, who was driven to drastic measures.
He sent for his Aunt Arabella.
Thus, two weeks after Nicholas’s disappearance, a tall, thin woman of indeterminate middle age strode briskly and unannounced into the study at Lauriston Street.
“Good morning. I am Arabella Hurstman. I am quite abominable because I always insist on having my own way. My nieces and nephews are terrified of me, which is why they’re trying to fob me off on you. May I stay?”
Eleanor stared at the dowdy woman numbly. “Stay here?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Who wants to be in London in August? We should go to the country.” She began to walk around the room scanning the shelves. “Nice selection of books, though.” She took one off the shelf. “Villon. Do you read old French, my dear?”
“Only with difficulty,” said Eleanor, answering automatically. “They were my husband’s.”
“A man of discernment and intelligence,” said the older lady, “and not, I think, in the past tense. What would he think to see you like this, jeopardizing the child? What were his last words to you?”
Eleanor’s eyes sparked with anger at this horrible woman. “It’s hard to remember,” she retorted. “He was throttling me at the time.”
“Then you’re well rid of him, girl.”