Page 29 of The Society Catch
Giles woke to a violent pounding on the door. He had swung his legs out of bed and was reaching blindly for where his sabre always used to be before he realised that this was not a surprise French dawn attack.
He flung the door open to reveal the Squire clad in a gaudy dressing gown, his nightcap askew on his grey hair and his boots protruding from under the hem. ‘She’s gone!’
‘Who…?’ Giles shook the fumes of the Squire’s excellent brandy from his head and forced himself to think. ‘Joanna? Where?’
‘I don’t know.’ Mrs Gedding appeared from behind the bulk of her husband. ‘This was in her room.’
Giles took the note and scanned it rapidly. ‘There is only one place she can hope to reach today if we are to take her at her word and believe that she is going to a “respectable friend”, and that is Lady Brandon in Wisbech.’
‘I do hope so. I am sure she would not deceive me,’ Mrs Gedding said anxiously. ‘Poor child, she must have been far more frightened of returning home than I guessed.’
‘I’ll give her poor child when I catch her,’ Giles said grimly.‘Have you any idea when she left?’
‘It was before five thirty, because the under-groom went into the stables then,’ the Squire said. ‘He saw Moonstone was gone, but the fool assumed Rogers had turned her out and it wasn’t until I asked just now that he thought to check.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Half past seven.’
‘Squire, can you get your man to put the greys to while I dress?’ Giles asked. ‘And if you could jot down the fastest route to Wisbech, I would be grateful. I will be down directly.’
He deliberately kept his anger under control as he pulled on his clothes. There was time for that, and time for the anxiety which was roiling in his stomach, later, after he had found Joanna. That mare was steady, he reassured himself. Joanna was a good rider and the roads were dry and clear. Surely there was nothing that could befall her in a day’s ride in the English Fens?
He was met at the bottom of the stairs by the Squire with a sketch map and notes and Mrs Gedding with a bulging napkin and a flask. ‘I have no hope of you sitting down to eat your breakfast,’ she said. ‘But you can eat this one-handed.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
‘Squire! Squire!’ Rogers the groom burst into the hall without ceremony, a bridle flapping in his hands. ‘Every girth’s missing from every saddle. And all the bits have gone too. I’ve got the lad tearing the place apart now.’
‘From my driving harness as well?’ Giles demanded before the squire could speak.
‘Yes, Colonel.’
‘The little witch. I could almost admire her ingenuity if I was not so angry with her. Squire, have you a horse which would tolerate a rope bit? I can ride bareback.’
Followed by Mrs Gedding clutching the food the men headedfor the stables. Ten minutes careful work with a thin rope and Giles was astride the Squire’s black hunter who stood quietly enough, although mumbling his tongue over the unfamiliar feel of rope in his mouth.
‘He’ll do you all the way to Wisbech, never fear,’ the Squire said, slapping the muscled black neck affectionately. ‘Send word as soon as you have news.’ He took a satchel from the groom and stuffed the food and flask into it. ‘Here. Have you money enough?’
Giles patted his coat pocket. ‘More than enough, unless I find she’s taken boat for the Low Countries,’ he said with a smile for the look of sudden alarm on Mrs Gedding’s face. ‘Do not worry, ma’am, I’ll have her safe soon enough. In fact I have no doubt I’ll find her snugly drinking tea with Lady Brandon.’
All she has to worry about,Giles thought grimly as he sent the hunter down the drive at a controlled canter,is the lecture I am going to read her the moment I lay hands on her.
Joanna had an uneventful journey to Wisbech. The roads were just as she had noted, there were ample finger posts and milestones to reassure her she was on the right route, the sun shone and the only people she encountered were well-disposed and helpful to a passing rider.
The last five miles or so were, admittedly, difficult, for Moonstone was tired and Joanna felt it would be a long time before she could sit down again with any degree of comfort. But her flagging spirits lifted at the sight of Lord Brandon’s charming house set in its landscaped park and the gatekeeper, respectfully touching his hat, informed her that her ladyship had returned from a drive a little while before.
She slid stiffly from the saddle at the front door and surrendered the reins to a groom who was understandably surprised at the absence of an escort. She was received by asuperior butler who regarded her dusty skirts and solitary state with hauteur. ‘I could not say whether my lady is at home, miss.’
‘I know she is,’ Joanna said wearily. ‘Please just tell her that Joanna Fulgrave is here.’
‘If you would care to wait in here, miss. I…’
‘Jo!’ With a shriek of delight the lady of the house ran down the stairs and enfolded Joanna in a comprehensive embrace. ‘Darling Jo. Where have you sprung from? Did you write and the letter hasn’t got here? Rooke, don’t stand there like that – refreshments in the Chinese Salon at once. Bring in Miss Fulgrave’s luggage.’
Joanna was swept in a swirl of chatter, silks and scent into a pretty room hung with Oriental paper. Her friend pushed the door to with a bang and, seizing Joanna by the hands, stood back to regard her from head to toe.
‘Darling, you are covered in dust, your nose is pink and I have to tell you that that habit is quite three Seasons old, but I am enchanted to see you. Where have you sprung from? How long can you stay?’
