Janice Preston - Scandal And Miss Markham

She changed hastily into the clothes she had kept from Daniel’s boyhood, the ones she wore for their fencing bouts and for riding astride. She wondered whether or not she should take Malky with her. It would be the sensible thing to do, at least until she caught up with Vernon, but it would leave the estate short-handed at a busy time.

She examined her appearance in the mirror. She had bound her breasts to flatten them and had dusted fine ash from the fireplace across her skin, dulling it. She was dressed the same as countless young lads around the country, in jacket, shirt, waistcoat, breeches and boots. Her hair...she leaned closer to her reflection. She could pass muster as a lad during one cross-country ride—with her hair plaited and pinned and bundled into a cap—but would that suffice for a longer masquerade?

She reached for her scissors. It would grow again. She unpinned her hair and gathered it together. She swivelled her head from side to side as she gazed into the mirror, considering. Some lads had hair that grew to the nape of their necks, or even longer. She set her jaw. Time was wasting. She cut, hacking again and again at her thick hair until the bunch came free in her hand. She stared at it, lying limp across her palm, trying and failing to quash her distress.

It cannot be helped.

She pushed the hair under her mattress where it would not be discovered, and turned again to the mirror, biting back a cry at the sight that met her eyes. She pushed her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out—her curls more unruly than ever—then ruthlessly scraped it back and tied it with the length of twine she carried in her jacket pocket for emergencies. Her reins had snapped once, several miles from home, and since then she had always been prepared. Never had she envisioned using it for this purpose, however.

It is just vanity. Who cares what you look like?

Unbidden, Vernon’s face arose in her thoughts.

Hmmph. She thrust his image aside. He is a means to an end: finding Daniel. Nothing more.

It was time to go. Malky would have Star ready by now. Thea cast a last look around her bedchamber, sucked in a deep breath to quell her nerves and picked up her saddlebag. A quick visit to the gunroom for pistols, powder and shot and then she would be gone. As she crept down the back stairs she prayed none of the servants would see her. Her stomach roiled all the way to the gunroom and for the entire time it took her to load the smaller pistol she had decided to take with her.

She slipped out of the side door and hurried along the path to the kitchen garden, following the outer stone wall around until she reached the far corner. Then she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she was no longer visible from the house. She stood still, leaning back against the wall, feeling the sun’s warmth, stored in the stones, radiating through her twill jacket, and waited for her nerves to settle. They did not. Her stomach continued to churn until she felt sick and she realised, with a jolt, that it was not the adventure to come that frightened her so very much but the thought of Lord Vernon Beauchamp’s reaction when he discovered she had followed him. Contrarily, that thought irritated her, which then had the effect of finally grounding those butterflies fluttering around inside her stomach.

It was not his place to dictate her movements and it was not incumbent upon her to obey him. She was her own woman. Seven-and-twenty years of age. Intelligent. She had no reputation to sully—it simply was not important to her. She would never marry and she was long past the days when she worried about how many partners she might attract at the assembly room in Bewdley. Come to think of it, she could not remember the last time she had visited the assembly room. Losing everything, including a fiancé and, very nearly, her father had effectively put an end to all such frivolity. They had—both she and Daniel—put their heads down and worked, with no thought other than to pull the family back from the precipice of bankruptcy. They had teetered upon the brink of that chilling state for a very long time.

Those years... That lump ached once more in Thea’s throat. She and Daniel had worked in partnership and they had not given up until the manufactory was safe. They had worked with Charles Leyton and the other men to develop new products that were now eagerly sought after by customers keen to decorate their homes and to display their wealth.

And now, when it seemed they could finally begin to breathe again, Daniel had vanished.

Thea pushed away from the wall. She could see Malky waiting, with Star and another horse, at the top of the opposite bank of the stream, on the edge of the trees. Gratefulness hummed through her. Malky clearly intended to accompany her and she saw now that was the best solution, at least until she caught up with Vernon. Her guise as a lad would protect her a little on the ride between Stourwell Court and Stourbridge, but not completely—a solitary youth might prove fair game for any manner of rogues on the road. She would believe that was what had befallen Daniel, but for the fact his horse had not returned: Bullet would always return to Stourwell Court. He had been foaled here.

She ran down the bank, jumped the narrow channel of water and hurried up the slope to Malky.

‘Afore you say aught, miss, I’m coming with you and there’s an end to it.’

Malky...he had taught her to ride. Solid. Dependable. Unflappable.

‘Thank you, Malky.’ Thea turned to Star, put her foot in the stirrup and was soon settled astride the spirited black mare. ‘Just until we catch up with his lordship, mind.’ Or, actually, before. Or his lordship would merely order her to return home with Malky. That would not suit her purpose at all. ‘Let’s go.’

They rode across country, taking the shortest route to Stourbridge, and Thea began to breathe a little easier at the knowledge they had made up time. Finally, they arrived at the outskirts of the town and they halted.

‘I will be safe enough now,’ she said to Malky. ‘You should return home. No!’ She held up one hand as Malky started to protest. ‘You cannot come further. You are needed at Stourwell Court. I shall be quite safe... I intend to let myself be known to his lordship before nightfall. It will be too late by then for him to send me home.’

‘And what do you intend to do while his lordship is inside the Nag’s Head?’

‘I shall go inside, too. It is a respectable enough inn. It will be an opportunity to find out if my disguise will stand casual scrutiny. You cannot deny it is better I begin here—in full daylight—than enter some low alehouse after dark when it is like to be filled with men in their cups.’

Malky sighed. ‘I don’t like you going inside such places, Miss Thea.’

‘Theo, Malky. I told you, I am now Theo. And I must go inside or how shall I discover—?’

‘I’ve bin in and out of such places all me life, mi—’ He clamped his lips together with a scowl. ‘You told me you were going to follow his lordship. You never said you’d be risking your reputation and worse besides by going inside such places.’

She touched his arm. ‘You cannot stop me, Malky. You know me. You know how stubborn I can be.’

‘Never a truer word,’ he muttered.

‘Must I order you home, Malky? You and I cannot ride into town together, or someone will recognise you and wonder who I am. Trust me... I will stay safe. I shall follow his lordship and, as I said, I shall make myself known to him before nightfall. He is a gentleman. He will protect me.’

‘And that’s another thing to worry about,’ Malky muttered. ‘His sort...they think nothing of debauchery and such like and you an innocent and all.’

‘I am well able to protect my virtue, Malky,’ she said grimly. ‘You need have no fear on that score.’