Sandra Heath: Mistletoe Mischief

More than an hour had passed, and Megan lay very still in her bed. Her eyes were closed, and her nut-brown hair was brushed loose over the lavender-scented pillow. A footman had earlier been sent to those same baths that Oliver and Ralph later intended to grace with their dubious presence.

Sheikh Deen Mahomed was renowned for his skills with medicine because he had trained as a surgeon with the East India Company, and he hurried to Radcliffe House the moment the message arrived. He was a short, dark-skinned, dark-eyed man of fifty-seven, who always wore an embroidered blue satin robe, sleeveless emerald velvet coat, and golden turban. After attending to the wound at the back of Megan's head, he administered laudanum to make her more comfortable, and then declared that nothing more could be done except to wait. He was hopeful, however, and reassured everyone that he did not think Megan had come to any lasting harm.

Only when this had been announced did Greville leave to find Oliver, intending to exact full retribution for what had been done. He refused to permit either Rupert or Sir Jocelyn to accompany him, for this was something he needed to do alone. A chilling fury beset him as he strode through the snow in the fading afternoon light. The Steine was almost deserted now, except for a lamplighter and his boy going about their business, and a post chaise that had just arrived outside Garsington House. Tonight was the occasion of the soiree musicale, and the sound of Sigismund's hautbois could be heard because the door of the house stood open, the occupant of the post chaise having clearly just gone inside.

Suddenly Sybil's shrill voice shuddered out on to the quiet Steine. "Cooee, Mama! Come quickly! And you, Thigithmund!"

The hautbois broke off mid note, and then there came a wailing female voice that was so like Sybil's as to be virtually indistinguishable. "Oh, Mama! Mama! Walph hath left me!"

Greville recognized it as belonging to Sophia Strickland. So Ralph had upped and gone, eh? It was as well for him, because after Oliver he was next on the list of those due for reprisals. Megan had suffered greatly at both men's hands, and the time for just deserts had arrived! Greville strode on, his eyes hard with determination.

But when he reached Oliver's lodgings, he found his prey was not at home. Oliver's man, who was used to covering up, pretended at first that he knew nothing of his master's whereabouts, but when pinned to the wall by the throat with a fist of iron, he quickly divulged the visit to the Lewes bordello and the booking for Mahomed's Baths. Greville was pleased to learn that Ralph Strickland had descended upon Oliver. Two vile birds to be dealt with by a single stone, he thought. He decided to wait until the visit to the baths. Why endure the discomfort of a ride through the snow to Lewes when his quarries were going to obligingly return to Brighton? So, after warning Oliver's man not to mention his visit, Greville returned to Radcliffe House.

During his absence, Megan had stirred briefly out of unconsciousness. She saw the locket shining at Evangeline's throat as she leaned in concern over the bed, and the mistletoe posy lying upon the bedside table with the unfinished volume of The Castle of Otranto, but then the darkness returned.

Evangeline wasn't alone in the room, for Rupert, Chloe, and Sir Jocelyn were there too, as well as Rollo, of course, but only Evangeline knew he was there. Sir Jocelyn was furious that he had not only permitted Oliver to pay court to Chloe, but had actually offered him the hospitality of his house. With hindsight, Chloe's father was hugely sorry that he had not paid more attention to his instincts where Mr. Oliver March was concerned.

Chloe was very upset by the full extent of Oliver's misdeeds. "Oh, how could I ever have been so naive as to actually think I loved him! Not even Sybil Garsington deserves such a monster!" she said, wiping her tears with her lace-edged handkerchief as she stood by the window, looking out into the gathering darkness.

Rupert went to her. "You weren't to know, sweetheart," he whispered, pulling her close and putting his lips to her short golden curls.

"How he must have laughed when he found me so easy to humbug!"

"Laughed? Chloe, the villain is in love with you!" Rupert replied, taking her face in his hands. "The only good thing I can say of March is that he lost his black heart to a veritable jewel of womanhood."

"Would that he had never set eyes upon me," she whispered, and slipped her arms around his waist.

"Greville will make him pay his dues," Rupert promised.

Chloe drew back at that. "Violence is not the answer, we have only to look at Megan to know that!"

"Yes, but-"

"No, Rupert. I hope Greville does not find Oliver, and that when he returns here I will be able to dissuade him from further action." She glanced tearfully toward the bed. "Oh, please let Megan recover soon! Please let all be well again!" She hid her face against Rupert's shoulder.

Evangeline straightened from the bedside, and turned to Sir Jocelyn. "I too am most unhappy that Greville has gone off after Mr. March as he has, Jocelyn."

"He was impossible to hold back, my dear," he reminded her.

"I know. I have never seen him in such an icy fury before. He was so controlled it was really quite frightening."

"I hope he thrashes March within an inch of his miserable life," Sir Jocelyn declared calmly.

"And be dragged before a court? What good will that do, pray?"

Rollo had been listening. " 'Frailty thy name is woman,' " he murmured, being in full agreement with Sir Jocelyn.

Evangeline rounded upon the sound of his voice. "Better to be a frail but living woman than a rash but dead man!" she cried. "Or an extinct Restoration actor!" she added.

Everyone turned to look at her, but this time without question, for they all accepted that Master Rollo Witherspoon was there after all. Before leaving to beard Oliver in his den, Greville had briefly told them all that Megan had been talking to the ghost as well, but he made no mention of Belle Bevington because Evangeline still had to perform her task without knowing why. However, he had informed Evangeline that the specter required her presence at the church.

Rollo was offended to be termed an extinct Restoration actor. "Mistress, it ill behooves you to heap scorn upon my predicament."

She was a little contrite. "Well, maybe so, but you are a very annoying spirit at times. However, Greville has informed me that you need me to go to St. Nicholas's before Christmas Day is over, and I hereby give you my word that I will do so. Will that serve as recompense for my sharp tongue?"

Joy was evident in Rollo's reply. "Oh, yes, mistress! A thousand times yes!"

Evangeline returned her attention to the bed, and put a tender hand to Megan's face. "And when you are better, my dear, I will tell you all about your dear father and me," she whispered, then looked at the others and added, "But it is time to tell the rest of you now."

It was well into the evening, and guests had begun to arrive for Lord and Lady Garsington's soiree musicale. The family was in disarray, not only because Sophia had sobbed constantly since she arrived, but because Sigismund had disappeared. He had gone out earlier without saying where he was going, and had yet to return. His parents and sisters could only console themselves that he had not taken a carriage or saddle horse, and was therefore still in Brighton. There was hope yet that at the appointed hour the Garsington ensemble would be complete.

The arriving guests were agog to see how Sybil went on today after treating them to such a pantomime the night before. Brighton opinion had now generally settled into apportioning equal blame between Sybil and Oliver, deeming them to richly deserve each other. The trouble was that Sybil was simply not the sort of young woman with whom one could sympathize, for she seemed to go out of her way to make an exhibition of herself. She hadn't seemed in the least concerned by what had happened at the ball and, after her loud remarks about succumbing to complete temptation, had escaped her family's clutches to gleefully gallop her way through a boisterous country-dance. Then she had drunk several glasses of champagne in quick succession before her exasperated father and brother seized her. It was a sad but true fact that Ralph Strickland's eastern tincture was only the partial cause of all this embarrassing behavior, because Sybil Garsington was quite simply an awful young woman, and tonight she was still unabashed. She took Oliver's submission for granted, and spoke of him as if he would arrive at any moment.