Chapter Seven
Harriett wore her new green satin and net gown to dinner. She was rather pleased with it, although it wasn’t quite as seductive as the one she’d wished to buy. With her hair plaited and coiled about her head, and arranged in curls at her brow, plus the addition of her mother’s fine aquamarine pendant, she felt much more attractive than when she wore her mother’s choices.
She rather thought Gerard did too, when his gaze settled on her as she walked into the room. But she dismissed the notion, when Gerard and Leonora sang Scarborough Fair, together, his strong baritone complimenting her soprano voice. They made such a handsome pair. Harriett could imagine them performing at musicalsoirées.
After they left the pianoforte, Harriett suffered the strong urge to beat him again at chess, but it might not be in good taste to be seen to enjoy herself too much. Gerard saved her from the temptation by retiring early with apologies, and with a thrill, her thoughts focused on the evening ahead. Gazing into space prompted her mother to ask if she all right. “I’m perfectly well, Mama,” she said hastily, not wishing for her parent to take too much interest in her health.
She retired to her bedchamber, intending to dismiss her maid and slip into bed still in her underclothes, but before she could do so, her mother came into the room.
“Aren’t you in your nightgown yet, Harriett? Why are you dawdling? Leonora is waiting for Sarah’s assistance.”
Annoyingly, her mother remained while Sarah assisted Harriett out of her gown and into her nightgown. There was little Harriett could do but wash and clean her teeth, brush her hair and climb into bed.
“Goodnight dear.,” Mama kissed her cheek. “It’s been a very upsetting time, hasn’t it. Get some rest. Things always look better in the morning.” She blew out the candle and left the room.
Harriet lay stiff with apprehension. She’d glanced at her watch earlier so it must now be around nine thirty. She had time on her side. It might be safer to remain in bed for an hour, before rising to dress. By then her father would have retired by now. She found it impossible to stare into the dark, and she closed her eyes to rest them.
The grandfather clock in the downstairs front hall chimed. Harriett sat up groggily counting. Eleven! She must have fallen asleep! Panicking, she leapt from the bed and pulled her nightgown over her head.
She stumbled to the window to open the curtains, barking her shin on the chest of drawers. It was too dark to see clearly in the room, but her parents were in the next bedchamber, and knowing her father’s propensity to retire late, she dared not light a candle. She should have taken note of what the maid did with her clothes. In the unfamiliar room, Harriett opened the cupboard and blindly groped about. Where was her spencer? She located the gown she’d worn that day, and her stays which laced up at the back. Moaning in frustration, she twisted this way and that, then threw the stays back into the wardrobe. Conscious of how much time she’d wasted, she searched fruitlessly for a chemise and petticoat, but soon gave up. Gerard would think she wasn’t coming. She threw the gown over her head and managed to draw the tapes around and tie them under her bust. She was quite pleased with herself especially after she discovered a dish of pins on the dresser, and pinned the bodice. Cool air rushed over her shoulder blades. Something had gone amiss. Somehow, the dress gaped at the back. More time was wasted hunting for her spencer. Where on earth had Sarah put it? With a crow of delight, her nervous fingers alighted on her soft cashmere shawl. That would have to do it was a warm night. Abandoning the idea of stockings, she put on her house slippers, they’d make less noise, and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. Outside her room the corridor was pitch black. Closing the door softly behind her, she tiptoed away from her room.
The quiet house lay in darkness. The fitful moonlight failed to reach the dark recesses. Harriett trailed her hand along the wall as she followed the carpet runner toward the stairs. She passed her parent’s bedchamber and heard her father’s reassuring snores. When she reached the landing, the clouds cleared and thankfully, moonlight shone in through a two-story window to light her way down the stairs and save her from measuring her length. The cold marble penetrated the soles of her thin house slippers as she descended. The light was better below, she hurried to the front door, slid back the bolt and turned the big brass door handle. The door was locked. Moaning in vexation, she ran to the walnut hall table, and breathed a sigh of relief, when she discovered the heavy key in a drawer.
Harriett turned the big key in the lock. The noise seemed abnormally loud, reverberating around the lofty hall. She paused to listen. Only the loud ticking of the grandfather clock and the soft scuffle of mice behind the wainscoting. Easing the door open, she stepped outside, and closed it behind her. A cool breeze swirled around her and she gathered her shawl more tightly over her shoulders.
Clouds scudded across the sky. The crescent moon burst free to bathe the gardens in a chiaroscuro of silver light and deep purple shadows, the woods dark and menacing. Aware of the time, she increased her pace, guided by the scent of lilac bushes bordering the path. A sharp snap came from the trees, as if something heavy had trodden on a dead branch. She kept walking fast, almost stumbling as she stared uselessly into the shadows. Her throat dried from her harsh breath as she fought the urge to run back to the house. Gerard had told her to go back if she was afraid. He may have gone home himself. The thought made her feel very much alone and she sucked in deep, steadying breaths taking the fork in the carriageway which led to the stable block. A fox’s red eyes stared at her from out of the dark before it darted away. The coarse gravel painfully poked her feet through the thin soles of her slippers, and an owl swooped down over her head in a flurry of giant wings. The squeak of some small creature made her shudder. The bird rose with its prey in its beak and flapped away into the night sky. Ahead, the stable block seemed deserted. Rubbing the prickles at her nape, she hurried forward.
There was no sign of Gerard. Her heart sinking, she crossed the cobbles, longing to call out to him. She stopped near the black space where the stable door stood open, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Nothing, but the occasional shuffle of a horse moving in its box. Had he given up and gone home? She felt terribly alone.
Footsteps sounded somewhere behind her. She swung around, but the clouds chose that moment to advance on the moon. Dark descended. Vulnerable, and more than a little annoyed at Gerard, she took two steps back toward the stable.
The footfall came closer, slow and hesitant, as if they listened too. The crunch of gravel told her they walked along the drive. Different scenarios flashed through her mind. Was it Gerard? Had someone followed her? Had her father discovered her gone and come to find her? The moon escaped the clouds to cast its silvery light over her. Exposed, Harriett stepped back through the stable door into darkness.
A hand covered her mouth, and an arm around her waist drew her off her feet, throwing her flat on her back in the straw. The wind knocked out of her, Harriett lay speechless against a hard body which half covered her.
“If I take my hand away, will you be quiet?” Gerard’s whisper came out of the dark, feathering her hair, his breath scented with his after dinner brandy.
She’d not uttered a sound! Indignant, she had a strong urge to rebuke him, but having no breath left to do so, she merely nodded. And she was weak with relief that he was here.
He drew his hand away.
Loud banging split the silence. Someone opened and shut stall doors, searching. For them?
Gerard piled straw on top of them. She opened her mouth and was about to demand an explanation, when the big hand returned like magic. “Absolute silence. Is that something a woman can understand?” he hissed in her ear. His breath tickled and, dreadfully nervous, she had to fight not to giggle. The impulse ceased abruptly, when he proceeded to cover them both entirely in straw. She heard the stable door shoved wide. Through a gap in her dusty covering, which tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze. A silvery shaft of moonlight shone in across the floor. Gerard eased his boot beneath the straw which brought his knee up to nudge Harriett’s bottom. His big warm hand settled on her waist and her dress edged up over her knees. She would be outraged if she wasn’t so scared. Gerard’s hand squeezed her waist in silent warning. He moved his hand and she felt something hard nudge her thigh. She froze. Her questioning mind went blank as a man’s dark form crossed the ring of moonlit floor. Harriet went rigid.
A horse whickered. With a growl, the man kicked at the straw. He uttered an oath. Harriett flushed at his foul language, and struggled to hold her breath. He stood for a moment, as if listening then picked up a pitchfork from the ground and drove it into the hay. She shuddered and almost cried out; expecting the next jab to slice its way into her flesh, but Gerard’s warm hand quieted her.
The bark of a fox sounded in the distance. Muttering, the man swiveled and with a fulsome curse, threw down the pitchfork and left the stables. She and Gerard lay stock-still, listening as his footsteps crossed the cobbles. They faded into silence.
She threw off the straw and scrambled to her feet. “Who was that?” She tugged her dress down over her legs.
“Not sure. Couldn’t get a look at him.” Gerard jumped up. He had a pistol in his hand.
Harriet stared at the pistol, as light dawned.
Gerard shoved it back into his pocket and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sit down. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m already filthy. How will I explain this to Mama?”
