Reluctant Bride Read online

  “Your itinerary does not sound too disreputable for a lady. I could wait in the inn lobbies while you enter the taprooms."

  He hesitated only a moment. When he spoke, it came out it was Mitzi's company he objected to, and not my own. I do not mention it on every page, but when Mitzi was in our company, she was making a terrific nuisance of herself, growling and hissing at Sir Edmund, for whom she had an infinite contempt.

  “I'll leave her behind,” I offered. “I was only taking her along to replace you. I mean..."

  “Thank you,” he said, his lips thinning noticeably. He went to the desk to hire the room for Maisie. We helped her upstairs, left Mitzi with her and went out into the street.

  Our search was not fruitful. Sir Edmund, if I have not mentioned it, was a tall man, with legs approximately three feet long. He moved them very fast, with no concern for a companion hampered by flopping skirts and legs twelve inches shorter than his own. I fairly ran down one side of the main street and up the other. If I uttered a word of objection, I would be invited to retire to the inn. I regained my breath when we began making inquiries at all the possible stops of a pickpocket. It was possible for me to stand or sit in a lobby, depending on the quality of the establishment visited, while Blount made his inquiries.

  A moss green jacket is not at all a stylish thing; gentlemen wear a blue one; farmers and workers wear all colors, but a surprising number of green jackets turned up on the street to attract our attention that day. A dozen times we made a useless dart across the road or into a shop, lured by a green outfit.

  “We should have got a closer description of him. We don't know whether he is tall or short, what sort of a hat he wears—nothing but the jacket and the walleye,” I repined. “Colonel Fortescue probably left a perfectly accurate description of him, too, as he was so thoughtful as to run back to the inn and inform the innkeeper of the man's destination."

  “Maisie saw him. He's a small fellow, both short and thin, spindly shanked, she called him.” Blount's conversation was never what one would call dulcet-toned. When the colonel's name arose, it became even more brusque. Maisie hinted it was because I was forever singing the fellow's praises, but I only mentioned him at appropriate moments, no matter how often I thought of him.

  After we had been searching for over an hour, I suggested our man, whom we had nicknamed Greenie in order to refer to him briefly, had had time to sell the diamonds. “Let us begin checking the pawn shops now. There is a sign across the road.” We hastened across to the sign of the three globes, just as the proprietor walked out the door and turned the key in the lock, his day's business done. We asked him about Greenie, but he shook his head disinterestedly.

  “I didn't see anyone like that,” he said, strolling off towards a tavern.

  “He wouldn't tell us if he had bought them. He knows perfectly well they are stolen,” I said. “If Greenie is a regular pickpocket, he probably has a man who handles his wares for him. A fence they call it, I believe."

  “That is possible. I'll have to find my way to the wrong side of town tonight, and begin making discreet inquiries."

  This sounded highly exciting. I knew I would not be allowed to accompany him on so degrading an errand unless I came up with an extraordinary plan. While I schemed, wishing I had a set of livery or a boy's outfit to slip into, Sir Edmund turned his blighting eyes on me and shook his head. “Forget it, Miss Braden. I will be going alone. We'll have dinner now, to allow me an early start."

  We had worked our way back close to our inn. I was hungry enough to welcome the thought of dinner, and venturesome enough to continue plotting how I might get myself included in the night's work. I was sent upstairs to see if Maisie wished to come down to dinner, or we should eat above-stairs with her. She was sufficiently bored with her incarceration that she would tackle the stairs, with the aid of her walking stick and a strong arm from Sir Edmund. No fancy dressing was possible, with our trunks at Devizes, but as Blount hired a private parlor, it did not matter. Mitzi was left behind in the room, highly pleased with the arrangement.

  “I'll bring something up for her after dinner. I shall have to take her for a walk too, before she is shut in for the night,” I mentioned.

  “I cannot imagine why any sane person goes traveling with a dog,” Edmund said curtly.

  I opened my lips to make some excuse, but he was no longer heeding me. His eyes had wandered down to the bottom of the stairs. His expression was one of such lively delight I had not a doubt in the world I would see a green jacket below us, in the lobby. I followed his line of gaze, to view not a walleyed man, but a very buxom female in a low-cut gown, casting a provocative smile in his direction.

  Lightskirts are finding their way into even the better class of public inn these days. This one was enough to ruin the reputation of the place, to say nothing of its clients’ morals. She was a sultry-eyed, raven-haired hussy, giving wanton encouragement to every scarecrow in the place. Certainly nothing else but a member of the muslin company. She was accompanied by an elderly female, who was posing as a chaperone, which was only a ruse to get herself inside the door. They would never have let this one in unaccompanied. The two of them were entering a private parlor, and taking their sweet time to do it too, as the response from Blount was so very promising for business.

  I had not taken him for a lecher. That breed of male is usually much more amusing. His manners were businesslike, brusque to the point of rudeness. Then too he professed moral opinions on such matters as thievery, to say nothing of his virulent misogamy. After the female's door had closed, he stood staring at the wooden panels with a bemused look on his face.

  “Shall we continue on, or would you like to make a closer examination of the door?” I asked politely.

  His head jerked quickly toward me. “A pretty woman,” he remarked, trying to make it sound casual. “I shouldn't be surprised if she is an actress."

  “I took her profession for something older. The world's oldest, in fact."

  He busied himself holding the door for us, to obviate replying. While he ordered up his raw meat, Maisie and I settled on tastier fare. “No dead birds for me tonight,” I decided, running an eye down the long menu. “I shall begin with dead fish instead."

  Maisie t'sked in annoyance, and ordered an exact replica of my own dinner, despite Sir Edmund's remonstrances that what we both needed was a nice, rare piece of beefsteak. The only variation in our host's repast was that he switched to wine from ale. He was careful to warn them how to sear his meat. The blood oozed just as he liked when he put his knife into it. By a careful rearrangement of the flower vase on our table, I was able to conceal this disgusting spectacle from my eyes. Over dinner, we outlined to Maisie what had occupied us earlier, and our lack of success.

  “Sir Edmund is going to visit criminal haunts tonight, to try to find the fence,” I explained.

  We did not dally over our meal. There was never a chance to dally over anything, with Blount forever pulling out his watch and urging us to eat up. Before I had finished scalding my interior by trying to drink the boiling coffee, Edmund was pushing back his chair, outlining that he must be off to the wrong side of town.

  “I must walk Mitzi now, and beg a scrap of meat from the kitchen for her."

  “You cannot go out alone. It is nearly dark,” he informed me. “I'll have one of the inn boys walk her for you."

  “There is time to walk her a block up and down the main street before dark. I am not likely to be accosted on the main street of Winchester."

  “Very well, if you insist, I shall have to accompany you,” he told me, his hackles rising.

  “Don't be ridiculous. I always do this when we are traveling."

  “You never took Mitzi away from home before,” Maisie pointed out, with hateful and unnecessary accuracy.

  I went upstairs to get Mitzi. My aunt had decided to remain in the private parlor while we walked the dog. She would finish her coffee at leisure, lucky aunt. Whom should I run into i
n the lobby but Colonel Fortescue! We greeted each other as long lost friends.

  “What a small world it is! Miss Braden—delightful to meet you again. I was wrong to accuse Fate of perversity, was I not?” The colonel was in evening clothes, looking criminally attractive. I felt the strongest urge to drag him into the parlor to meet Blount, to show him how a proper gentleman looked and behaved.

  “Colonel Fortescue! Did you get your watch back?” Glancing to his waistcoat, I saw by the chain he had. He was resourceful on top of all the rest.

  “Certainly I did. You heard of it at the inn in Devizes?"

  “Heard of it? Oh, you don't know, Colonel! I too was robbed.” I outlined my ill-fated tale to him. He was hot in his sympathy. Somehow or other, he got hold of my hands, squeezed them tightly. “If only I had known! To think, I had the culprit right in my hands, and let him go. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

  “The best help you can give is to tell me where you found your watch. Did you meet the fellow as he got off the coach?"

  “I did. I arrived in advance of him."

  “Was he not taken into custody?"

  “Alas, no! Had I had the least notion what a wretched fellow he is, I would have done it. But I felt sorry for the poor devil. Only a drifter. I arranged the business quietly with him, got my watch, and let him off with a warning."

  “You are too soft-hearted."

  “Foolishly kind, as it turns out. I feel as guilty as though I had robbed you of your diamonds myself. How can I assist you?"

  “You don't happen to know where the scoundrel is headed?"

  “I only know he darted down the street as fast as his spindly legs would carry him. Probably had a customer waiting for your hot stones. I insist on helping you. I am yours to command, Miss Braden.” He stopped suddenly, striking his forehead with his fingers, rather like a salute. “Oh, dear. The trouble is, I am not free to help you. I must be in London before morning. I was about to climb into my curricle this very minute and get back on the road."

  “That is a pity, but the gentleman who caused my accident is giving every assistance. Have you time to step into the parlor yonder and make his acquaintance?"

  “I wish I had, but this business of my watch has held me up so long. I have to get to London tonight. I really must dash off. I suppose it is folly to hope you have changed your destination?” he asked, with a rather shy smile.

  “I'm afraid it is."

  “I was right the first time. She is perverse. Fate, I mean.” He looked at me with those long-fringed eyes. There was regret in them, and if there was not the same expression in mine I would be much mistaken. He bowed, turned and left. Mitzi, showing great discrimination, had been well-behaved throughout the meeting.

  I turned back to our parlor, then realized I had removed my spencer and would want it for the walk, so darted back to our room to get it. When I descended, the sultry-eyed female had emerged from her parlor and had cornered Sir Edmund. She was talking to him, batting her lashes, smiling. She lifted her head like a duchess when I approached; and ducked back into her parlor, as she had not time to get out of my view in any other direction.

  “I thought she might possibly have seen Greenie,” Blount explained, with a sheepish look.

  “Had she?"

  “I hadn't time to inquire. She mistook you for my wife—was just asking about you."

  “I trust you told her you are a confirmed misogamist."

  “Somehow, the matter did not arise. I had not time to make her any proposal, you see."

  “Only a proposition? Or does she handle the business details herself?"

  I do not know whether his glare was for my question or Mitzi's querulous snapping at his boots. “Let's get out of here before the mutt disgraces us,” he suggested.

  As we went toward the door I said, “As it happens, I have learned Greenie was in town. I met Colonel Fortescue in the lobby just a moment ago."

  “You should have brought him in to meet us. I would like to see the paragon."

  I gave a wistful sigh. “Unfortunately, he was in a great rush to get to London. I don't suppose I shall ever see him again. Two ships that pass in the night..."

  “Did the ship have anything useful to tell you?"

  I outlined Fortescue's information as we strolled along the main thoroughfare, our chore of walking the dog requiring a leisurely pace.

  “The idiot!” Sir Edmund muttered. “Hadn't the wits to have the jackanapes arrested."

  “He is too soft-hearted. I told him so. He was very upset about it."

  “I expect that was enough to make him break into tears."

  “No, he is too manly for tears. A veteran, you know, wounded."

  “In the Peninsula,” he added.

  We kept an eye peeled for Greenie. Colors were still discernable, though everything was turning to gray rather rapidly. Mitzi, whom I had not fed yet, kept her nose to the ground for food and found a crust of bread against a shop wall. I tried to tug her away from it, but she held firm, necessitating my going closer to lift her away.

  “This is a pawn shop,” Sir Edmund mentioned, as these establishments were of particular interest to us. “We must try it in the morning, if my search is not successful tonight."

  “Yes, close to the coach stop, too. He might well have unloaded his loot here.” I glanced into the window, and emitted a shriek. “Sir Edmund! That's it! There, right in the middle of the window—my diamond necklace."

  He nearly put his head through the glass in his excitement. He leaned against the windowpane, as I did myself, to verify my jewelry. “Funny the man would put such a valuable thing in the window—vulnerable. Anyone could break the glass and steal it. You'll notice the other objects are not really worth much. Watches, fans, hats ... No genuine jewelry but yours."

  “He probably thinks it is strass glass. Maybe Greenie thought so when he sold it."

  “No, the dealer would know what he was about, if the pickpocket did not. I don't think those are real diamonds, Miss Braden."

  “Of course they are. He hasn't had time to pry them out and make paste replicas. We must get them. What's the name of the place?"

  “Reuben's Pawn Shop,” he read, standing back to crane his neck up to the sign. “We'll come here first thing tomorrow morning."

  “Tomorrow morning?” I asked. “We cannot leave them here all night. You said yourself they could easily be stolen. We must find out where Reuben lives, and go to his place. He'll have to come back and let us in."

  “It can wait till morning. They are safe enough."

  “I don't intend to leave them here over night."

  “I have other plans for my evening."

  “Not now! It is no longer necessary to find your way to the wrong side of town, to look for the fence person.

  “Those were not the plans I referred to."

  “I see. You refer to the bit of the wrong side of town that has registered at the inn, do you? You are a fast worker, Sir Edmund."

  “I will not stir a finger to find Reuben this night,” he answered.

  I am very happy to relate Mitzi defended me. She never likes to hear anyone speak roughly to me. She jumped up and sunk her teeth into his boots. Had he been wearing pantaloons, he would have felt it.

  “And we're getting rid of this foul-natured bitch too!” he threatened, shaking her off.

  Chapter 6

  Mitzi accompanied us on our expedition to find Mr. Reuben, as soon as we returned to the inn to tell Maisie of our plan and seen her to the room abovestairs. As it was getting so late, Sir Edmund booked rooms for us all to remain overnight. Even before returning to the inn, we learned Mr. Reuben's residence from a small coffee shop next door. The proprietor, as I pointed out to Sir Edmund, was bound to know him, from having done business in the neighboring shop. It would take a Sir Edmund to insist it was utterly unlikely the two shopkeepers had ever spoken to each other over the years.

  The coffee shop keeper knew all about Reuben. “He
don't live just around the corner,” he told us. “Reuben, he lives out of town, and comes in each morning on his mule. Down churchhouse walk you'll find him. Take the road out of town a mile, turn left and follow the footpath that meanders all crinkum-crankum another half mile or more. Reuben lives in the shack place you'll come to. There hard by the stream you'll find him. Mind he may not be sober, so late in the day."

  “Thank you,” Sir Edmund said, disliking the inconvenience of the location. The proprietor was unhappy, too, to receive no pourboire for his help.

  I nudged Blount's arm. He glanced at me, frowning. “Give him something,” I said in a low voice.

  “What?"

  "Pay him. Give him a tip."

  “Oh!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin of a denomination that was much too large. The man bit it before tossing it into his change box.

  “There is obviously no point in going tonight,” Sir Edmund said, when we left the coffee shop. “His shack way to hell in the woods somewhere, and he dead drunk by now."

  “She'll wait for you, Sir Edmund."

  “That is not why I refuse to go. We'll wait till morning."

  “If I must go alone at night, I hope you will at least loan me your carriage and a boy to accompany me,” I answered.

  “Miss Braden,” he began in a frustrated, holding-back-his-temper kind of a way.

  “That is quite all right. Mitzi will come with me. How I wish Colonel Fortescue were here.” I lifted Mitzi into my arms as we headed back to the inn. Poor girl,” I said. “Bad Lizzie hasn't given you any dinner. You shall have a nice beefsteak for a reward.” She cooed softly, then turned her head aside to snap at Blount, who was muttering into his collar.

  “Shut up!” he shouted to the dog, as he was not quite rude enough to say it to me.

  Reuben's roost was neither far away nor difficult to find. The only little impediment was that once we reached the crinkum-crankum path, we had to descend and leave the carriage behind, to proceed on foot. The innocent footpath was castigated as everything from a jungle to a bog by my surly companion. The nettles did cling tenaciously to my skirts, though they were less bothersome to his booted feet. The occasional puddle we slipped into may have soaked my slippers, but cannot have done much damage to his Hessians.