Chapter 13 #4
Miss St. John was trying to comprehend exactly what this meant. “So we will crawl into his dog cart and simply climb out when we reach the parsonage, as if nothing has happened? I suppose I’m agreeable to that.”
“I’m perfectly agreeable,” Miss Maidland said, then nearly ruined the plan. “But look at us; Meg is coated in flour and I am a horror! How on earth will we explain that?”
Even Robert had to admit this posed a problem. Disheveled attire and leaves in her hair could never be enough to hide Miss Maidland’s natural beauty, but it would certainly call into question her recent activities. Some sort of story would have to be invented… and it would have to be a wild one.
Oddly enough, her quiet cousin was up to the challenge. “How about if we don’t go back to the parsonage, but we go to the mill?”
“To the mill? But you would only implicate Mr. Muchleigh,” Miss Maidland reminded her.
“No, he’s been gone all afternoon,” her cousin said. “His laborers saw him leave and they had no idea I was hidden with him. If he is not there when I am found, no one could claim he was a part of our scheme, could they?”
“I suppose that would depend on the scheme,” Robert said.
“I think we should tell people that I ran away from home and I went to the mill. That’s what I did, after all, so it won’t be difficult to remember the story.”
Miss Maidland wasn’t convinced. “But how will this help Mr. Muchleigh?”
“I will say that I never saw him; he was already gone on his delivery and his men had already closed up for the day.”
“Indeed, they did that quickly enough,” Miss Maidland confirmed. “But what of the boy, Henry? He seemed to know of the scheme. Where is he now?”
“He’s gone back to Greenwood Manor,” Robert explained. “He is our friend and works in the kitchen there. He’s been quite useful, running messages back and forth. That’s how I knew about the dinner Gisborn is planning. My butler keeps me informed through Henry.”
“I see,” she nodded. “You have quite a system.”
“I’m hoping we won’t need it much longer. Now what is the rest of this Banbury tale? How do we explain the sordid condition of Miss Maidland’s bonnet… and the rest of her?”
“She rescued me when I tried to drown myself, of course,” Miss St. John said brightly.
Miss Maidland gaped at her. “You tried to drown yourself?”
“Well, Papa knows I want to marry George. Wouldn’t he believe that I might drown myself if I cannot do that?”
“It’s a little bit drastic, Meg,” Miss Maidland cautioned. “Are you certain you want people to talk about you that way after all this?”
“Oh, people talk anyway. And Papa won’t tell anyone about it; he is too proud. We simply need a story that he and Mamma will believe. I think they’ll believe drowning.”
“Yes, but it will only give them more reason to dislike Mr. Muchleigh,” Miss Maidland pointed out.
“They already dislike him,” her cousin said sadly. “They might like him better, though, if he writes me a letter saying he does not care for me and is afraid of Papa.”
“I would never write such a note!” Much insisted.
Miss St. John sweetly convinced him otherwise.
“Do it for me, George. Then Papa will know you are innocent and I will have more than enough reason to drown myself. We could say that Marianne came along searching for me and jumped in to save me just in time. That would surely explain why both of us are such a mess.” She gave them all a sweet smile. “I think it’s very romantic!”
“I think it’s dreadful,” Much grumbled. “I don’t like to think of you drowning yourself, even if it is only in jest.”
His lady put her hand over his. “I won’t really do it. I promise.”
Robert hid his own smile as Miss Maidland rolled her eyes at their mooning.
“It’s far-fetched,” she announced. “But perhaps just ridiculous enough to work. I saw Mr. Reeve in town and told him I would find Meg at the Tinkletons. I suppose I can say that on my way there I realized she might have gone to the mill instead. No doubt everyone will wonder why so much time has passed, but we’ll simply weep and babble hysterically.
People live in terror of a hysterical woman. ”
“Hear, hear!” John agreed.
“Your aunt and uncle will believe this sad tale?” Robert asked her.
“Why would they not? Surely no one would ever invent such a story!”
“But you are sure it will not lead to scandal?” Much asked, still worried for Miss St. John’s reputation, though Robert would have liked to remind him that he should have thought of that in the first place.
“Meg is right, my aunt and uncle are far too proud to allow rumors of this to spread. They will be only too happy to keep silent about this. I daresay it will work; this arrangement will allow us to return home, yet it protects everyone involved.”
Mr. Fraytuck slapped his ample belly in excitement. “Excellent! Then I will say that I found you at the mill as I came by—it will only be the smallest of falsehoods, and for a good purpose, you know. When I confirm all that you say, that should put a seal on it.”
“Indeed it should,” Robert said. “So we have a plan. Let us get the ladies into the cart, and my men will quickly scout the area to make sure it is safe for you to venture out. We’ll give you a good hour before Much sets for home—he should be safely uninvolved at that point.”
“I know just where Mr. Fraytuck should say that he found us,” Miss St. John offered. “There’s a beautiful spot just near the mill, perfect for a broken-hearted soul to cast herself into the Trent.”
“You are not really going to drown yourself!” Miss Maidland reminded her.
“I know… but I do think we should both visit the spot, for authenticity. And possibly wet our skirts, don’t you think? It must be believable, after all.”
They were getting into details that Robert did not want to know about. The thought of an even more dampened Marianne Maidland, water running over her body and her skirts clinging to every curve, was more than he wanted to think of. It was best to get her safely home.
And out of his reach.