Rendezvous

19

Harry held Augusta as she sobbed in his arms. He could think of no way to comfort her and nothing hurt as much as not being able to alleviate her pain. This overflowing emotion was no doubt the way a Northumberland Ballinger dealt with grief and he envied Augusta the release of tears. For himself, he could do nothing but plot revenge.

Unable to do anything else, Harry closed his arms tightly around Augusta there in the hall of the big, silent Arbuthnott mansion and willed the storm to pass.

And he forced himself to think only of vengeance.

Augusta was calming slightly when Harry looked over her head and spotted Peter coming through the back door.

"It looks like he had time to search her bedroom and the library," Peter said. "Both rooms are a shambles. But the other rooms are still in good order. He must have heard someone or something and left before he had time to finish the job. Probably decided that with Sally dead, no one else would be able to find the list, either."

"It's a big house. Difficult to search thoroughly. Have you taken care of everything else?" Harry asked quietly.

Peter nodded, his blue eyes chips of ice. "Yes. One of the servants has gone to summon the magistrate. I've had Sally's body taken to one of the bedrooms. God, she was frail, Graystone. There was nothing left of her. She must have been living on spirit and willpower alone for the past few weeks."

Augusta stirred in Harry's arms and raised her head. "I shall miss her so."

"We all will." Harry stroked Augusta's back soothingly. "I shall always be extremely grateful to her."

"Because she was so brave during the war?" Augusta blinked back the tears and dabbed her eyes with Harry's handkerchief.

"No, although I have always admired her courage. The reason I shall forever be grateful to her is that it was she who suggested I arrange to meet you by contacting Sir Thomas. Sally said you should be added to my list of potential wives," Harry said candidly.

Augusta looked up, startled. "She did? How very odd. Why on earth would she think I would make you a good wife?"

Harry smiled faintly. "I asked her that question myself, as I recall. She said I would do better with a wife who was not in the classical style."

Peter closed the door. "Sally understood you very well, Graystone."

"Yes, I rather believe she did." Harry gently put Augusta a little away from him. "My friends, we must do our grieving later. The authorities will assume Sally's murder was perpetrated by thieves who attempted to break into the house. There is no point in letting them think otherwise."

"Agreed," Peter said. "Nothing they could do in any event."

"We must find the list Sally mentioned." Harry glanced down the hall, thinking how huge the house was and how long it was going to take to go through it properly. "I know something of Sally's methods for hiding items she did not want discovered. She tended to choose the obvious places, on the grounds that no one would think to look in them."

Augusta sniffed into the handkerchief. "The book."

Harry glanced at her. "What book is that?"

"Pompeia's betting book." Augusta bravely thrust the wet handkerchief deep into a pocket in her cloak and started down the hall to the drawing room. "Sally told me that if I ever found it closed, I must make certain you open it. And you heard her a few minutes ago just before she… she died. She said I must not forget the book."

Harry exchanged a glance with Peter, who simply shrugged and prepared to follow Augusta.

The door to Pompeia's was closed. Harry heard Augusta start to weep again as she opened it, but she did not hesitate. She walked into the dark, silent room and lit a lamp.

Harry glanced around, curious in spite of himself. He had visited Sally frequently, but she had never entertained him here in the drawing room after it had been turned into Pompeia's. The club was for women only, she had said. She could not violate the rules, even after hours.

"Gives a man an odd feeling, doesn't it?" Peter kept his voice down as he came to a halt next to Harry. "I was never allowed past the threshold, you know. But I always felt a little uncomfortable when I got a good look inside from the door."

"I see what you mean." Harry studied the shadowed pictures on the wall. He recognized many of them at once. They were all women who had managed to survive in myth and legend in spite of what Augusta called the general historical bias against females. Harry was beginning to wonder just how much history had been lost because it had pertained to women and had therefore been deemed unimportant.

"Makes a man curious about what females get up to and what they actually talk about when they are on their own together with no men around," Peter observed quietly. "Sally always said I'd be surprised if I knew."

"She used to tell me I'd be shocked," Harry admitted wryly.

He watched the black velvet cloak swirl around Augusta as she walked over to a Greek pedestal. There was a large, leather-bound volume lying on top.

"This is the notorious betting book?" Harry walked across the room to join Augusta.

"Yes. And it is closed. Just as she said I might someday find it." Augusta opened the volume slowly and started turning the pages. "I do not know what I am searching for."

Harry glanced at some of the entries, all in feminine handwriting.

Miss L.B. wagers Miss R.M. ten pounds that the latter will not get her journal returned in time to avert disaster.

Miss B.R. wagers Miss D.N. five pounds that Lord G will ask for the Angel's hand within the month.

Miss P.O. wagers Miss C.P. ten pounds that Miss A.B. will cry off her engagement to Lord G. within two months.

"Good God," Harry muttered. "So much for a man thinking he has some privacy."

"The ladies of Pompeia's are very fond of wagers, my lord." Augusta sniffed again. "The club will close now, I suppose. I shall miss it. It was a home to me. Nothing will ever be the same here."

Harry was about to remind Augusta that she did not need Pompeia's because she had a home of her own when a piece of notepaper fluttered between two pages of the book. "Let me see that." He snatched it up and examined the list of names.

Peter came forward to peer over his shoulder while Augusta craned her head to get a peek.

"Well?" Peter demanded.

"It's a list of names, all right. No doubt a partial membership list of the Saber Club. This is Sally's writing."

Peter scowled at the list. "I do not recognize any of those names."

"Hardly surprising." Harry pulled the lamp closer and studied the list more closely. "It's in the old code Sally was accustomed to use for her messages to me."

"How long will it take you to decode all those names?" Peter asked. "There must be at least ten there."

"Not long. But after we know who the members were, it will take some time to determine which ones could possibly be the Spider." Harry folded the paper and stuck it safely into his pocket. "Let us be off. We have much to do before dawn."

"What do you want me to do?" Augusta asked quickly.

Harry smiled grimly and readied himself for the battle ahead. "You must go home and awaken the household. Then you will see that you and Meredith are packed and ready to leave for Dorset by seven o'clock."

She stared up at him. "Seven o'clock this morning? But Harry, I do not want to leave town now that we are so close to finding Sally's killer and the identity of the Spider. You must let me stay."

"There is not a chance of me allowing you to stay. Not now that the Spider is aware of this list and will stop at nothing to get it." Harry took her arm and hauled her toward the door. "Peter, perhaps your fiancée would enjoy a short stay in Dorset?"

"I think that would be an excellent notion," Peter replied. "God knows I would just as soon she was out of town until we find the Spider, and I am certain Augusta would like the company."

"I do wish the two of you would cease making plans for me as though I were not able to think for myself," Augusta said loudly. "I do not want to go to Dorset."

"But you will," Harry said calmly.

"Harry, please—"

He thought fast, searching for the most effective lever to use in this argument. When he found it, he applied it mercilessly. "It is not just your own pretty neck I am worried about, Augusta. There is Meredith to consider. I must be certain my daughter is safe. We are dealing with a monster and we do not know to what depths he will sink."

Augusta was clearly thunderstruck by the implications. "You believe he might threaten Meredith? But why would he do that, my lord?"

"Is it not obvious? If the Spider reasons I am the one trying to find him, he could use Meredith to get at me."

"Oh, yes. I see what you mean. Your daughter is your one great weakness. He might know that."

You are wrong about that, Augusta. I have two great weaknesses. You are the other, Harry thought. He said nothing aloud, however. Let her think his chief concern was Meredith and that he was depending on her to take care of his daughter. It was her nature to go to the rescue and defend the innocent. "Please, Augusta. I need your help. I must know Meredith is safely out of the city before I can concentrate on finding the Spider."

"Yes, of course." She looked at him, her eyes grave with the acknowledgment of her responsibility. "I will guard her with my life, Harry."

Harry touched her cheek gently. "And you will take excellent care of yourself, too, hmmm?"

"Certainly."

"You and Meredith shall have a little help," Harry said. "I am sending you down to Dorset with an armed escort. The men will stay with you at Graystone until I get down there myself."

"An armed escort. Whatever does that mean, Harry?" Augusta was clearly startled.

"Less exciting than it sounds. I shall send a couple of grooms with you who have been in my service a long while. They both will be armed and they will know what to do if there is any trouble."

"She'll be safe enough at Graystone," Peter said. "In the country everyone knows everyone else and a stranger in the district will be noticed immediately. And then there are the dogs. No stranger will be able to get into the house without the dogs sounding an alarm."

"Exactly." Harry looked at Augusta. "And you will have Claudia for company."

Augusta smiled slightly. "I would not count on that. I seriously doubt that my cousin can be ready to travel by seven o'clock this morning."

"She will be ready," Peter vowed softly. "I want her out of Town as badly as Harry wants you out."

Augusta eyed him thoughtfully. "I see. I am certain Claudia will find the experience of being sent off at a moment's notice extremely interesting."

Peter shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the notion of a recalcitrant Claudia.

By seven o'clock the next morning, all was in readiness. Harry stood on the steps of the town house and said good-bye first to his daughter. Meredith was disappointed at having to leave the city and all its entertainments, but her father had explained there were matters at the estate which required Augusta's attention. She accepted that explanation, but nevertheless reminded him that she had not yet seen Vauxhall Gardens.

"You shall return shortly and I will take you there myself," he promised her.

Meredith nodded, satisfied. She hugged him fiercely. "That will be nice, Papa. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Meredith."

Harry put his daughter into the big black traveling coach and then turned to meet Augusta, who was just coming down the steps. He smiled at her elegant dark green carriage dress and frivolous high-crowned bonnet. Trust Augusta to look stylish even when she was being hurriedly packed off to the country at seven in the morning.

"Is all well, then?" she asked as she came to a halt in front of him. She fixed him with a steady look, her eyes serious in the shadow of the bonnet.

"Yes. Your cousin will be waiting for you at her house. You shall all be on your way shortly. You will spend the night at an inn and be at Graystone tomorrow afternoon." Harry paused. "I shall miss you, Augusta."

She smiled tremulously. "And I shall miss you, my lord. We shall be awaiting your arrival down in Dorset. Please be very, very careful, Harry."

"I will."

She nodded and then, without any warning, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth right there in front of Meredith and the cluster of servants milling about the carriage. Harry started to fold her close, but it was too late. She was already pulling away.

"I love you, Harry," Augusta said.

"Augusta." Harry instinctively reached out for her, but she had already turned and stepped into the waiting coach.

Harry stood watching as the black and silver coach rumbled out into the street. For a long while he simply stood there, repeating Augusta's parting words over and over again in his mind. I love you, Harry.

It was, he realized, the first time she had ever actually said the words aloud. He knew now that a part of him had been waiting to hear them for a very long while.

I love you, Harry. The locked door hidden deep inside him opened wide and what lay behind it no longer appeared so bleak.

Dear God, but I love you, too, Augusta. I had not realized until this moment how much a part of me you have become.

Harry waited until the black coach was out of sight and then he went on up the steps and into his library. He sat down behind his desk and unfolded the list of names Sally had found. It did not take him long to decode them.

When he was done, he studied the eleven names. Some of the men on the list he knew had died in the war. Some he knew simply did not have the intelligence or temperament to have been the Spider. A few of the names he did not know at all. Peter no doubt would recognize them.

But it was the last name on the list that caught and held his attention.

He was still sitting there, staring at the last name, when Peter was shown into the library.

"Well, they're off, safe and sound," Peter announced as he sprawled in a chair. "I just came from putting Claudia into your coach. Meredith said to say good-bye to you again and to remember that in addition to Vauxhall, she would very much like to go back to Astley's."

"And Augusta?" Harry tried to keep his tone cool and restrained. "Did she have any further words for me?"

"Said to tell you again that she would take care of your daughter for you."

"She is very loyal," Harry said softly. "She is a woman a man can trust with his life or his honor or his child."

"Yes, she certainly is," Peter said with a knowing look. He leaned forward. "What have you found? Anyone interesting on that list?"

Without a word, Harry turned the decoded list of names around so that Peter could read them. He saw Peter's mouth thin as he reached the last one.

"Lovejoy." Peter looked up quickly. "Good God. It fits, doesn't it? No family, no past, no close friends. He has realized we are making inquiries. He tried to deflect us by making it appear Richard Ballinger was the Spider."

"Yes. He must have discovered that the list of members of the Saber Club had fallen into Sally's hands."

"He went to search for it. She was awake, waiting for us, and no doubt surprised him. So he killed her." Peter's hand closed into a fist. "The bastard." Peter sat back. "Well, sir? What is our first step?"

"It is past time I paid that second late-night visit to Lovejoy's library."

Peter cocked a brow. "I shall go with you. Tonight?"

"If possible."

But it was not possible. Lovejoy spent the evening entertaining male friends at home. Harry and Peter kept watch from a darkened carriage as the lights in Lovejoy's library stayed on until nearly dawn.

The next night, however, Lovejoy went out to his club. Harry and Peter entered the library through the window shortly before midnight.

"Ah, there is the globe safe you mentioned," Peter murmured, starting toward it.

"I think we can forget the globe." Harry peeled back the edge of the carpet. "Lovejoy made no secret of it when I came here to speak to him the morning after Augusta and I discovered her vowels in it. He probably uses it chiefly as a convenient storage place for minor valuables and perhaps as a decoy. The Spider will doubtless have a second, better-hidden treasure chest."

"I see what you mean. Nothing much in here." Peter had gotten the globe open and was peering inside. He closed it again and began systematically going over the paneling at the far end of the room.

Twenty minutes later, Harry found what he was searching for when he tripped the hidden lock mechanism in a floorboard.

"I think this is what we want, Sheldrake." Harry lifted a small metal box out of the flooring. He went still, as a footstep in the hall announced a servant who was probably sneaking in late after a visit to a tavern. "We had best examine this elsewhere."

"Agreed." Peter was already halfway out the window.

An hour later, sitting comfortably in his own library, Harry got the metal box open. The first thing that caught his eye when he looked inside was the glitter of gems.

"The Spider appears to have taken his traitor's pay in jewels," Peter mused.

"Yes." Harry fished impatiently through the heap of precious stones that littered the bottom of the box: His fingers closed around a packet of papers and he lifted it out.

He flipped through them quickly and paused when a small notebook fell into his hand. He opened it and saw that for the most part there were only a few short, cryptic entries for dates and times that could have meant anything or nothing. The last note, however, was far more interesting. And far more disturbing.

"What have you got there?" Peter leaned forward for a closer look.

Harry read the note aloud. "Lucy Ann. Weymouth. Five hundred pounds for month of July. "

Peter looked up. "What the devil does that mean? Is the bastard keeping a ladybird in Weymouth?"

"I doubt it. Not to the tune of five hundred pounds per month." Harry was silent for a moment as he followed the logic of the situation. "Weymouth is not above eight miles from Graystone and it has an active harbor."

"Well, of course. Everyone knows that. So?"

Harry looked up slowly. "So the Lucy Ann is undoubtedly a vessel, not a wench. And the Spider appears to have paid someone, perhaps the ship's captain, the enormous sum of five hundred pounds for the month of July."

"That's this month. Why on earth would he have laid out that kind of blunt on a ship?"

"To assure that it be kept in readiness for an immediate departure, perhaps? The Spider was always fond of slipping away via a water route, if you will recall."

"Yes. He was, was he not?"

Harry closed the notebook, a cold feeling in his gut. "We must find him. Now. Tonight."

"I could not agree more, Graystone."

But Lovejoy had covered his tracks well. It took Harry and Peter most of the following day to discover that the Spider had already left London.

The first night back at Graystone, Augusta lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. She was conscious of every creak and squeak in the great house.

Earlier she had followed the footman around and watched closely as he locked every door and every window. She had checked to be certain the dogs had been bedded down for the night in the kitchens. The butler had assured her the house was secure.

"His lordship ordered special locks years ago, madam," Steeples had told her. "Very stout locks."

Nevertheless, Augusta could not sleep.

She finally shoved back the covers and reached for her wrapper. Picking up a taper, she lit it, slid her feet into a pair of slippers, and went out into the hall. She would just look in on Meredith one last time, she decided.

Halfway down the hall, she saw that the door to Meredith's room was open. Augusta broke into a run, shielding the fragile flame with one hand.

"Meredith?"

Meredith's bed was empty. Augusta forced herself to remain calm. She would not panic. Meredith's window was still securely locked. There were several logical explanations for the child's absence. She might have gotten up to get a drink of water. Or perhaps she had gone downstairs to get something to eat from the kitchens.

Augusta flew toward the staircase. She was halfway down when she glanced over the railing and saw a crack of light under the library door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she hurried on down the stairs.

When she opened the library door, Augusta spotted Meredith instantly. The child was curled up in her father's big chair. She looked very tiny and fragile there. She had lit a lamp and there was a book in her lap. She glanced up when Augusta came into the room.

"Hello, Augusta. Did you have trouble sleeping, too?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I did." Augusta smiled to hide her enormous relief at finding the girl safe. "What are you reading?"

"I am trying to read the The Antiquary. It is rather difficult. There are a great many words."

"So there are." Augusta put her taper down on the desk. "Shall I read it to you?"

"Yes, please. I should like that very much."

"Let's go over to the settee. That way we can both sit together and you can follow along as I read."

"All right." Meredith slid out of Harry's massive leather chair and followed Augusta to the settee.

"First," Augusta said as she knelt briefly in front of the hearth, "I shall light the fire. It is rather chilly in here."

A few minutes later they were both comfortably settled in front of a roaring blaze. Augusta picked up the new novel that was being attributed to Walter Scott and began to read softly of missing heirs, treasure hunts, and perilous adventures.

After a while Meredith yawned and nestled her head on Augusta's shoulder. Several moments went past. Augusta eventually looked down and saw that her stepdaughter was asleep.

For a long time Augusta sat there watching the fire and thinking that she felt almost like Meredith's real mother tonight. She certainly felt as protective as a real mother.

She also felt very much like a real wife tonight, Augusta reflected. Surely only a wife could know this dreadful sense of uncertainty while she waited for her husband to return to her.

The library door opened softly and Claudia, dressed in a chintz wrapper, came into the room. She smiled when she saw Augusta curled up on the settee with Meredith asleep beside her.

"It seems we all had a problem getting to sleep tonight," Claudia whispered as she sat down near the settee.

"It appears so. Are you worried about Peter?"

"Yes. I fear he is inclined to be somewhat reckless. I pray he will not take any chances. He was terribly angry because of Sally's death."

"There was a great rage in Harry, too. He tried to conceal it, but I saw it burning in his eyes. He is really a very emotional man under that calm, controlled facade he shows to the world."

Claudia smiled. "I must take your word for that. Peter, on the other hand, conceals his emotions behind a cheerful, teasing mask. But he, too, feels deeply. I wonder why it took me so long to see the underlying seriousness of his nature."

"Probably because he is skilled at concealing his true feelings. Just as Harry is. Each, in his own way, has learned to be cautious about exposing his deepest thoughts and emotions. I suppose they both had far too much practice doing so during the war." And Harry had learned a great deal about self-control even before he had faced the dangers of intelligence work, Augusta thought, remembering the faithless women in the picture gallery.

"It must have been a terrible ordeal for them."

"The war?" Augusta nodded, her heart aching for Harry and Peter both. "They are good men and good men must suffer enormously in war."

"Oh, Augusta, I love Peter so." Claudia rested her chin in her hand and gazed into the fire. "I am so dreadfully worried about him."

"I know, Claudia." Augusta realized that she felt closer to her cousin tonight than she ever had in the past. It was a good feeling. "Do you ever think about the fact that even though we both descend from different branches of the Ballinger family, we do share a common ancestry, Claudia?"

"I have thought about it frequently in recent days," Claudia admitted wryly.

Augusta laughed softly.

The two women sat quietly in front of the flames for a long time. Meredith slept peacefully beside them.

The following night Augusta's sense of uneasiness grew steadily into a great anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. She eventually managed to get to sleep only to fall into a vague nightmare.

She woke with a start. Her palms were damp and her heart was pounding. She felt as though she were being buried alive under the bedding.

Fighting panic, she shoved the covers aside and leaped out of the bed. Then she stood breathing quickly, trying to calm the strange fear that still held her in its grip. When she could tolerate it no longer, she gave in to it.

Snatching up her wrapper, she hurried out of the bedchamber and rushed down the hall to Meredith's room. Augusta told herself she would be able to calm down after she had seen that Meredith was safe.

But Meredith was not tucked up safely in her bed. Once again she was gone and this time the window stood wide. The night breeze stirred the curtains and chilled the bedchamber.

There was just enough moonlight to see the stout rope that had been secured to the windowsill. It hung all the way to the ground.

Meredith had been kidnapped.