‘No, no,’ she replied unconvincingly, her bright green eyes twinkling wickedly. ‘I am sure you have danced with hundreds of debutantes over the last few years, and there’s no reason why you should pay any particular attention to one of them above another – in fact, it would have been perilous for you to do so. And it’s not as though you’re one of those odious flirts our chaperons warn us against. You’ve always made it perfectly plain that you weren’t in the least bit interested in any one of the young ladies that society throws in your way.’ Dominic became aware that he was perspiring slightly into his fresh linen shirt. What would she say next?
‘And now, of course,’ she went on enthusiastically, ‘all that is behind you, and you are to be married! And to dear Maria! I am sure I wish you both very happy. Just think, you need never dance with another debutante again. I am sure you will be much more comfortable in future, once you are no longer being pursued in such a preposterous fashion!’
What could he say tothat? Yes? No? To Dominic’s relief, the next set was forming up, and Lady Primrose’s hand was claimed by a pugnacious young man with very tall shirt points who had apparently been looking for her everywhere and appeared quite cross that he had had to seek her out. She didn’t seem in the least discomposed – it was hard to imagine what might discompose her, short of the roof falling in on them – and departed on his arm.
‘Well,’ said Meg rather dejectedly, ‘that’s that, and I don’t think she knows anything that might help us, do you, sir? And she didnothave the least suspicion that I was not my sister, as I am sure you will be the first to acknowledge. So your fears were quite groundless.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s one of your sister’s closest friends, is she?’
‘So I’m told.’
‘I wonder if the rest of them are the same?’
‘In what respect? I quite liked her, and I can see why Maria does.’
‘So bruisingly frank and satirical.’
‘I shouldn’t wonder at it.Areyou so hugely sought after? Or is that another of those questions that one can’t answer without being rude or disingenuous?’
‘It’s definitely one of those. But if I’d been inclined to congratulate myself upon the matter – supposing it were true, which we’re not discussing – I’m sure the current situation has cut me right back down to size. One hundred per cent of the debutantes I have so far offered for have fled from me in horror, after all. It hardly encourages a man to think well of himself. Now, do you want to peer shortsightedly about again, to see if anyone else is approaching? Please do so, before I forget our situation and start imagining I’m here to relax and enjoy myself in your company.’
It was a long evening. They encountered several more of Maria’s most intimate friends, and Miss Nightingale navigated the situation with surprising skill, not being obliged to swoon or otherwise cause a distraction. They danced together once again – Dominic insisted upon it, as a pleasant break from awkward conversations – but by three in the morning all they had to show for several hours’ worry was the headache. They’d learned precisely nothing, and encountered no one whose behaviour was in the least suspicious.
Lady De Lacy had passed most of her evening in the card room with her cronies, but she had spent long enough in the ballroom among the beady-eyed chaperons to be aware that her son and his betrothed had danced twice with each other – and with no one else. In other circumstances, such markedly exclusive behaviour might have drawn a reproof from her, but it might be excused in a newly engaged couple, as showing a great and understandable partiality for each other’s company, and she was clearly in the mood so to excuse it. She bade Miss Nightingale an affectionate farewell when they stopped in Grosvenor Square to set her down, and waited patiently while Dominic escorted her to her front door and saw her safely inside. The knowledge that his mother was watching them with entirely misplaced misty-eyed sentimentality cast a constraint over him, and he said only, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Nightingale; I’ll send a message. Perhaps my servants have been more fortunate in their efforts, and may have some news for me.’
When he rejoined her in the carriage, Lady De Lacy surprised him by making no comment – any comment she thought to make would surely have stung – but merely pressing his hand with what he was sure was a significant look, could he but see it in the gloom. He was grateful for her forbearance, but the mutual awareness of words unspoken hung so heavy in the space between them that she might as well not have restrained herself. See how right I was! he could feel her thinking. See how perfectly I – or, if we are being sentimental, your dear papa – have chosen for you. Do you not like your bride excessively? Do you not look forward eagerly to your wedding now, despite all your earlier foolish objections?
Yes, Mama, dear. And no.
No.
You were so nearly right, and so utterly, fatally wrong. And he had not the least idea what was to be done about it.
9
Dominic was not so inconsiderate a master as to expect his servants to report to him on the outcome of their investigations when he returned from the ball in the early hours. A cool grey dawn was breaking across London as he let himself wearily into his house. Pargeter was very much the sort of eager person who might stay alert to give such a report, unasked, were it not for the fact that his master had made it very clear that nobody was ever to wait up for him on pain of his grave displeasure, since he was perfectly able to put himself to bed.
He slept badly, a prey to all manner of confused and confusing thoughts, and woke unrefreshed at ten. Once he’d bathed, dressed and breakfasted, he summoned Pargeter and Fishwick, and sat down with them, without a great deal of hope, to hear what they might have to tell him. He already knew that the excursion to Barnet and its environs to check on fashionable blonde travellers on the road to Scotland had borne no fruit.
‘I had a fair amount of success in tracking down my acquaintances, sir,’ the young man told him, his open face and bright dark eyes more sombre than usual, ‘but nothing beyond that. Two of the persons on your list are still employed as you describe, but none of them has taken any sudden absence from work or otherwise behaved in a manner that has raised any suspicion in their fellow servants. There’s been no hinting at mysterious matters or signs of worry in the last few days, or anything of that nature. Any one of themcouldhave been approached discreetly and secreted a young lady away somewhere without the least noise or fuss, though certainly not in their master’s house. I can’t completely rule out their involvement – but I don’t believe it. You know how servants’ halls are, sir, for gossip and for sharp noticing. A housekeeper or a butler, if they know their business, they’re better than the Runners at ferreting hidden things out any day. And as for the third person, he’s taken a new situation and it’s in Scotland – left a couple of months ago. So that’s a dead end, as far as I can see.’
Sir Dominic handed him the list. ‘Thank you for trying, Pargeter,’ he said resignedly. ‘We always knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Will you be so good as to cross off the names you’ve eliminated?’
As he took up a pen, dipped it in ink and carefully did so, Fishwick said easily, ‘Well, sir, I knew some people in one or two of the same houses, but there was no point me and young Mr Pargeter doubling up our efforts, so to speak, so I took a couple of other names and set to work on them.’
‘Any luck?’ asked Dominic a shade impatiently. Fishwick, he knew, would take his time.
‘Maybe.’ He raised his hand pacifically. ‘Now, I’m not saying for definite, sir. But maybe.’ His auditors both sat forward eagerly as he went on, prolonging the moment, ‘I had the same result as Mr Pargeter did with the first cove I tried. I’m tolerably well acquainted with the very man on the list, as it happened. Footman, didn’t know nothing about anything, wouldn’t have had the wit to conceal it if he did.’
‘Jack…’ said his employer warningly.
Mr Fishwick grinned unrepentantly. ‘But in the second place I tried, the staff were all agog. Lord Purslake’s residence. Didn’t have to press them to talk, would have been hard to stop them. It was all concerning a lady’s maid – a respectable-seeming, quiet young female who’d come to them not long since from Lord Nightingale’s house, bettering herself by moving from working for some elderly widow mort to Lady Purslake, who’s no spring chicken herself but very fashionable. The girl had only been with them a couple of months or so, and now she’s vanished. No notice given, no attempt to collect her back wages – just gone one morning with what she could carry.’
‘Mrs Greystone’s former maid?’ said Dominic slowly. Fishwick nodded. ‘What’s her name – Jenny Wood, was it? And when did she go?’
‘Matter of five or six days ago, so around the time Miss Nightingale went too, seemingly. Which does make it seem like it might be more than a coincidence, to my mind.’
‘Good God, Jack, and to mine! Well done, man. I never thought this wild-goose chase would turn up anything, and yet it has, and on the first night of trying, too. But – don’t think I’m undervaluing your efforts, both of you – we now have two missing women instead of one. The mystery has become greater, not less, and I’m not sure we can call that progress. Even if they are together, apart from offering some reassurance to Miss Margaret that her sister might be safe and in another’s company, I don’t see how it gets us any further.’
