An Entertainment

Chapter 21

"At length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom Lefroy,
And when you receive this it will be over.
My tears flow at the melancholy idea."

"Phineas, will you come here please?" Called Harriet from her dressing room. Phineas, who was completely dressed and finishing a cup of coffee, leaned against the doorjamb.

"Yes, my love?"

"Dearest, I have something I need you to do for me that is very important." She said solemnly.

"W-what is it?" he stammered. Harriet rarely acted solemn in the morning.

"I need you to take down the cradle from the attic, the one my parents gave us." She said as she pinned a lose curl.

"You mean-we're-"

"Yes, I was hoping you wouldn't be upset. I was sure you would understand."

"Upset? Of course not! When is it going to happen?"

"This afternoon."

"What? That's impossible!"

"Why?"

"Well, we both know that it takes nine months and everything."

"What? It does not take nine months to simply climb the ladder into the attic and retrieve a little cradle." Said Harriet.

" It takes nine months to have a baby."

"Yes, I know. Get the cradle down."

"I don't understand. Is this how you planned to tell me we are having a baby?" He asked angrily.

"Us? We are not going to have a baby, not yet, at least. I am lending it to Mrs. Hamilton."

"Oh." Said Phineas, feeling slightly disappointed. "I'll do that right away."

"Thank you." She said. "Finny? Before you leave again, when are we going to get a tree?"

"A tree?"

"For Christmas."

"We are not German."

"I know, but my family always had one. We need some holly, too. I want to decorate the whole cottage for Christmas."

"Sounds rather messy, I reckon." He said as he hoisted a small, wooden ladder underneath the trap door of the attic.

"Oh, there will be some pine needles here and there, I'm sure, but all you have to do is sweep them up. Didn't your mother ever put Christmas decorations up?"

"Of course she did; but, I was a child then and didn't have to worry about cleaning it all up." He told her.

"I didn't realize that doctors lacked Christmas cheer." She said slyly. "I'll just have to ask some strong young men from town to come and help me get a tree. Look at all the snow we're getting!"

"Funny. Maybe we can get one tomorrow. I have several pneumonia cases to attend to today." Phineas said as he climbed up the ladder into the attic. The came back down with several cobwebs tangled in his red hair and dust on his suit. Harriet got up and dusted her husband off and picked the rubbish off his hair. He set the cradle down on the floor and kissed her.

"Thank you, again." She said.

"Speaking of Christmas, what shall I give you?" He asked.

"I don't know. I really don't need anything, you know. But, if you can't come up with anything, I circled a few things in a catalogue that I got in London last summer." Harriet replied, she looked on the clock on the mantle piece, "Finny, you had better go! Mr. Steele has been waiting for his mustard plaster for a quarter of an hour now!" Harriet kissed him on the cheek before shooing him out the door. She finished her hair and put on her bonnet and cape. She locked the door and set out for town. She made a quick trip to the post office and left an order at the butchers. At the bookstore, Harriet ran into Clara Granger who was leafing though a pile of floral stationary.

"Good morning, Clara. How are you?" Asked Harriet.

"Alright, I reckon. And yourself?"

"Oh, I am doing very well. That's a nice set of paper, that one."

"Yes, but I never cared for gardenias. I think I will go with the orchid pattern. I want to write out some poetry that I wrote for Cosette on it." Clara told Harriet.

"You wrote poetry? I did not know that you wrote at all." Said Harriet.

"Oh, I like to write, very much. However, this isn't serious poetry. It is really bad, actually. Cosette used to beg me to read it to her, though I don't know why."

"I would like to hear it."

"I don't know, it's rather humbling. I am rather better at stories, I reckon." Said Clara.

Harriet pointed to sheaf of crumpled and smudged papers that Clara clamped between her arm and her side. "Is that it?"

"Yes, this is my poetry."

"Why don't you come home with me and we'll read it."

"I don't know. I would really rather save myself the embarrassment. I wrote most of this when I was twelve."

"I'll make tea." Harriet tempted. "And I smuggled a box of chocolate into the house."

"(Sign) All right. You've got me. Leave it to my best friends to lead me into temptation." Clara laughed.

"Nonsense."

Clara made her purchase and they left the store arm in arm. They turned off of the main street and toward the crossroad. From there, they crossed the snowy field and up a small hill, toward Clifton Cottage.

"Clara, did you ever hear back from Mr. Wood? You sent that letter out quite a bit ago." Asked Harriet.

"No, I haven't heard back from him." Clara told her.

"What are you going to do?"

"In general, or with him?"

"Both."

"(Sigh) I don't know. I suppose all I can do it give up the acquaintance." Clara said sadly.

"Give it up! I hope it doesn't come to that!" Said Harriet. "I always liked him. Maybe you should write again. It is very likely that the letter is lost. He seemed like the kind of fellow who would write back at least out of politeness."

"But, if he really was in love with me as everyone seems to suppose, don't you think that he would have tried to make some kind of contact with me by now?"

"Clara, how many of us really have the heart to pursue anyone without a bit of encouragement. Let's be honest. You are a nice girl, but you're as warm as a rock when it comes to romance."

Clara grimaced, but alas, it was the truth. "I suppose you're right, though it is painful to admit."

Along the way, Harriet stopped by a small bench that was partly hidden by shrubs and long grass that showed through the snow. Clara asked her what the matter was and Harriet smiled brightly.

"Did you know that tomorrow is the two year anniversary of when Finny proposed to me on this bench?"

"Proposed? I thought that the two of you were betrothed. Wasn't it understood that you'd be getting married?" Clara asked.

"Well-yes, but he wanted to do something special anyway. It sort of finalized it." Harriet told her.

"Oh, well, how did it go? You obviously accepted him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, didn't you feel embarrassed at all? I know Phineas and he's rather sentimental. I'd have been too mortified to let a man say beautiful, romantic things to me-I'd rather hit him with a book."

"Clara! With that attitude, you're going to get buried in a white dress." Harriet laughed.

"No, I won't! I'll let someone propose to me as long as it isn't too sweet." Clara replied stubbornly.

"But proposals are supposed to be sweet." Harriet stated.

"Sweet says you-disgusting says i." Clara pretended to gag.

"Well then, what would you have a gentleman say?" Harriet continued.

Clara stood still with her face screwed up and thought for a little while. "'Marry me dammit!' then he'll slam his fist on a table or something! You know, something dramatic."

"That's completely absurd! The only man I can picture dong that is a pot-bellied drunk that'll keep a woman barefoot and well rounded!" Harriet argued.

"No! I'm sure that there's a nice gentleman out there that would propose like that. If not, then I'll propose like that to him!"

"You're being fantastic! For one, no gentleman would use such language in front of a lady. Two, young ladies (or old ones for that matter) do not propose to gentlemen. Besides, you would never say anything like that to man. Why don't you like real proposals, anyway?"

"I simply believe that all those juicy proposals are overrated and completely unoriginal. How can there be any sincerity when you can read the exact same proposal in at least a dozen novels? Besides, any fool can use fancy words." Clara stamped her foot to emphasize her point.

"But, what about the second part? You know, beating on furniture, or something?" Harriet asked.

"Oh, I figured that he would hit a table because he was flustered. That way I won't be so self-conscious. We could be flustered together." Clara explained.

"Oh, Clara, I don't think that Mr. Wood will propose like that." Harriet said as they moved away from the hidden bench.

"We are not to know what Mr. Wood proposes like for we are no longer on speaking terms, Mrs. Dixon." Clara reminded her friend in no uncertain terms. They were each silent for the next quarter of a mile until Harriet was suddenly reminded of something.

"OH! Clara, I have got to bring this cradle over to Mrs. Hamilton, I promised to this afternoon. Walk with me that far and then you can walk to your home." Clara agreed to this and they would have started again toward Clifton, but for another interruption.

Very suddenly, a horse and rider nearly ran over them as it sped into town. The rider eased the horse to a halt and turned round to face the ladies. They recognized him at once to be Captain John Croft.

"I mustn't stop, but when I saw that it was you I knew that I must. Surely, you have heard of Sophia's disappearance?" John asked.

"What?" Clara and Harriet exclaimed in unison.

"Maybe not." He muttered. "It is true, she was taken by a man she met last year in Bath. I am going to town to hire a hack and then try to find news of them in Southampton."

"How did this happen?" Clara asked.

"All I know is that she was alone for a brief period of time and that she was supposed to go somewhere with Lady Tugwell, her friend. Sometime between dinner with her family and the excursion, a man named Frederick Davies took Sophia. The wretch even left a note with his twisted intentions."

"My lord." Said Harriet softly.

John looked about him hopelessly. "I had better go, I don't want to lose any more time. Farewell." And he rode swiftly into town.

"Clara, what are we going to do?" Asked Harriet, pale faced.

"I don't know. What is Sophia going to do?"

"Listen, let's quickly drop of that cradle to the Hamiltons. Then we can get to Greta, I doubt that she knows."

"Good idea, Hatty."

A stagecoach sped down a narrow country lane much quicker than what was strictly necessary. The driver was a mean looking, little man with beady black eyes. His hat was tied onto his head with a plaid scarf that occasionally flew up into his face and temporarily blinded him. Quite often, the driver could be seen taking a swig from a hip flask. The man had been hired to drive a man and a young hostage all the way to Dover, and to keep a particular eye on the lady as she might try to run for it. The driver, name Sandyman, had no objection to watching ladies; it was a favorite sport of his on days off when he could not afford better entertainment.

Inside the coach, a man also had a bottle of strong drink. He did not employ it as often as the driver, but his wits were easily dulled by the stuff. The man was none other than the infamous Frederick Davies. Across from him sat Sophia Elton. She watched Davies slide about in his seat with a board, uncomfortable expression. It had been three days, and they had spent all of them in the same coach. As much as her body screamed in pain, she was thankful that she had not had to spend the night alone in a room with him. Davies was drunk for much of the trip or past out. Luckily, he would often have to make the driver pull over so he could vomit. This afforded her the opportunity to relieve herself. She also found that the drive was now indulging himself with drink and waited with dogged patience and determination for the moment when both men would be completely vulnerable.

Conversation had been minimal during the ride, she had no desire to speak to him and he had too much to say to make himself coherent.

"Sank ‘ou shoo mush for coming, m'dear." He said jovially, a sloppy grin spread over his face. Sophia merely turned her eyes toward him and said nothing.

"You're not a talk'tive lassy, aire ye." He laughed. "No ma'er, I aluss liked ‘em stubb'n. More thrill in the-" He, however, passed out before he could finish his sentence.

"How did things ever get like this." She whispered, incensed. "It's more like one of those silly penny novels where some silly girl gets herself kidnapped and is too stupid to do anything." She looked out the small window on the door. She had pondered simply opening it and jumping out before anyone would notice. She knew, however, that if she did try, Davies could all too easily pick her up alongside the road again. There where hardly any people along the roads at this time of year and she would have no one to help her, not to mention that if she did get out, Davies would probably sober up very quick and stay that way. "No, let him grow overly careless and then we'll see what happens."

Her opportunity came, though not as swiftly as she would have liked. They had neared the town of Palmer, which was little more than ten miles from Dover. Consequently, she had learned of their destination during one of his drunken stupors. As they pasted milestone after milestone, her anxiety increased. She did not know what to expect of Mr. Davies' friends. She would never have believed that there could be more than one person as base and reckless as Frederick Davies. Yet, he had described them as equally corrupt, though not in those terms, of course. As before, the time had come for her escape. Sandyman had not been content with a few sips from his flask. No, he had indulged himself with a far larger flask of something even stronger. Sophia was not familiar with the name or smell since her family never drank anything but weak wine and an occasional brandy for medicinal purposes. Anyway, the driver had quite drowned his wits and had very little control of the poor beasts he had been driving on for nearly four days. The horses could do little over a slow canter, which slowed the pace down considerably. Also, Davies had finished his last bottle of liquor and was completely sloshed. He did not notice the slow pace of the coach; in fact, he did not notice anything as he had quite passed out.

A storm approached and blew freezing rain over the countryside. Sandyman's intoxicated oaths could be heard over the wind, however. After a terribly bumpy ride, the coach came to a complete halt. More out of impulse than curiosity, Sophia jumped out the coach to see what was the matter. She found Sandyman unsuccessfully attempting to remove the scarf that had wound itself around his head, covering his eyes. Had it been a different situation, Sophia would have had a good laugh over it. As it was, the situation was not a very comfortable one and her friend Mr. Davies soon joined her. He was no longer the jolly drunk that he had been the last couple of days. In fact, she had never seen him so ominous. Of course, she had never seen him with a hang over. Davies stumbled around with his hands on his head, cursing and muttering to himself. He appeared to be looking for something.

Sophia's attention was diverted of a sudden by a loud thud behind her. She turned around and found that Sandyman had passed out and had fallen on the ground. She was grabbed from behind by Davies and swung around violently.

"Wha' aire ye doin'?" He roared. "Git back into the coach." He thrust her toward the coach and stepped toward it himself but a wave of nausea swept over him. Sophia saw this as her opportunity to get away from her unpleasant companions.

"Thank you, I'll be going now." She said.

"Come back ‘ere." He growled; he groped at the air toward her. Another wave of nausea came and he doubled over. "Ye're not goin' anywhere."

Sophia was quite fed up with the pitiful man before her. As he reached out to grab her again, she pulled her fist back and stuck him square across the jaw. Davies stood still quite shocked by the blow. Next, he blacked out and lay in his own vomit. Sophia rolled her eyes and fought her way down the road. They had passed a house a mile back and she felt rather than knew that it must be the closest refuge for her. The rain and sleet continued along with the wind.

Chapter 22

"There is one thing, Emma,
Which a man can always do,
If he chooses,
And that is, his duty."

John had reached Southampton and lost no time in seeking out Admiral Thorpe in the man's own quarters.

"There's someone ‘ere to see you, sir." Said a squat, young maid. John burst past her rudely and she gave an angry squeal at being pushed.

"Admiral Thorpe, I must speak to you. It is quite urgent!"

"Yes, of course, I received you letter." Said Thorpe as quick as cold molasses.

"Do you have any information about Frederick Davies?"

"Won't you take a seat?" Asked Admiral Thorpe.

"I have been sitting for days on end. Quickly, man, tell me what you know."

"Let me see now, I had asked around, of course. I do not reckon it is very valuable information but it will do." He told John.

"Quickly now! I'll take anything!"

"Not so hasty, you have got to get this all straight. And just think, I set that scoundrel up with Miss Elton. A disappointment, that one. Of course, you did not turn out too badly yourself. I suppose that in the end, that'll make up for everything."

"Admiral! You are wasting time! Please, just tell me what you know!"

"All right, all right. I was able to find out that he was some sort of family members in Dover. Apparently, they paid for his commission into the navy and have repeatedly put money forward to get him out of trouble. My guess is if he lands himself in a tight spot, he is likely to be there. The people go by the name of Uriah and Petunia Fawcett. You can find them at this address." He handed John a piece of paper. "If the poltroon is not there, than perhaps they know of his whereabouts. He is not a man of many means and I expect he'll be applying for money. Good luck, Croft." The Admiral and Captain exchanged salutes and John turned to leave.

"Oh, I nearly forgot, Captain. I supposed ye'll be wanting a postponement." Said Thorpe brightly. "Don't worry, it's all in hand."

John felt as if an early Christmas present was dropped into his lap.

"Thank you sir, thank you." He said as he closed the door behind himself.

"Lovers these days, always getting themselves crossed in love or into one scrape or other. Comes from reading all these new fangled novels." Said Admiral Thorpe with a shake of his white head.

John wasted little time. He ordered a horse this time around, even though it was cold and snowing. He pawned off his footlocker and purchased a dufflebag to replace it as it would fit over a horse better. He wrote a hasty letter to Mr. Elton explaining his next move. It would take two full days of riding to make it to Kent. John purchased some food to take along with him so he would not have to spend precious time in an inn. And our noble captain was off once more. He was glad that he had saved the brandy, it helped to keep him warm much of the time.

Of course, the man's thoughts were occupied with how exactly he was going to go about killing Davies. Would he make it quick and clean? Or, would he simply gouge his eyes out, then rip out his tongue, then anything that made him a man. After that, John would leave him to rot as carrion for the wild beast. Eventually, he settled on drawing and quartering. It was the French way (aside from Madame Guillotine). He even decided to lobby for the reopening of the London Tower. That is the British way. Or, he could simply shoot Davies. That is the American way.

"Or, we could get drunk together." He said to his horse, "That's the Irish way."

John's body was almost completely numb by the time he reached the Red Pony Inn that night. Tomorrow he would wear more layers to keep warm. He could not afford to lose time walking or running to keep warm. However, the inn was before him and warm light flooded through the windows and music drifted lazily into the cold air. A stable boy took his mount and he quickly strode indoors.

The inn was warm and inviting as it looked. A piano man played in a corner of the room across from a bar and tables. Men and women sat about the room and chatted comfortably. A portly man with a clean-shaven, ruddy face greeted him at the door and soon found that his room was ordered and a hot meal was being sent up. The room was sparsely furnished, yet there was a very comfortable bed. As long as this was provided, John was satisfied. A few minutes later, a maid brought up a tray of food for him. He swiftly ate his steak and kidney pie and potatoes. A custard followed and a cup of coffee. As delectable as these things may have been to any other famishing person, John tasted nothing; nor, did he notice that the piping, black coffee scalded his tongue as he gulped it down.

After pushing the tray away, John vacillated between falling asleep immediately or writing a few lines to Mr. Elton. He decided, with much lamentation, that he had nothing new to tell the; therefore, a letter that might only raise expectations, which might only be disappointed. No news is good news.

Truth to tell, Captain Croft was not entirely sure of himself in this situation. For all he knew, Davies may not have been in contact with the Fawcetts for quite some time. The probabilities of they're having any intelligence to offer or even their willingness to offer it was fairly slim. With these optimistic musings, John fell fast asleep in his bed. The repose was not peaceful for him, though. The thoughts that had occupied his mind for so long came back to him in the form of dreams. All night, he lay in unconscious disquiet of mind.

The brightness of the following morning assisted in reviving the Captain's forlorn spirits. He had awakened early to prepare for the completion of his journey. He would travel on the Main Road for much of the way and then make for Dover. It would be a long journey, that day, but the weather was unusually fine for January and already much improved than the day before.

With anxious a hopeful spirits, Captain Croft rode his beast from the courtyard of the Red Pony. He hoped that by tomorrow he would have some sort of intelligence to send home to the Elton family in Middleton.

However, Croft had not ridden but half a mile when a small fellow from the inn came running frantically from behind, hallooing.

"Whoa, there." He said to his horse as he reined it in. The lad caught up and bent over, panting for breath.

"Well, what is it, lad?" He said not unkindly.

"A letter-for you-sir. That be, if your name is indeed Croft." The lad said.

"That is my name, give it here." The Captain reached down to grasp the parchment and gave the boy a shilling. The lad bowed and ran frantically back toward the inn. With much surprise, Captain Croft noted the return address to be that of Middleton. He did not recall leaving a forward address in Southampton, but that did not signify. He urged his horse forward and read as he went. It was dated December 26, and included a clipping from a London newspaper that Mr. Elton had subscribed to.

Dear Sir,

The clip of paper is, indeed, a description of the fate of our friend, Mr. Davies. Shortly after having spotted this article in the newspaper, I received two messages relating to the tragic event. One was from the authorities, notifying me of the recent arrest of the usurper himself. They, however, had not way of finding out whereabouts Sophia had vanished to. Apparently, the gentleman was taken with much drink and lost track of his captive. My curiosity overcame my despondency and I read the next letter. To my great relief and joy, it was from none other but my own dear child. You can only imagine the state of the family from that point; we were all in a joyous uproar. However, I must get to the point of this note. It is, indeed, true that Davies had moved toward Dover to the shelter of the Fawcetts as the Admiral had supposed. Before he had managed to reach them, however, Sophia managed to escape from his clutches on a country road in the town of Palmer. She found shelter in the home of a clergyman and his family. Davies followed in a drunken stupor, though we now know that he had no idea as to where she had escaped. He was soon arrested for an act of violence committed in the middle of the town market place, apparently outraged over the turn of events. He was identified and the full extent of his iniquities was laid out before the authorities. Even now, Davies sits in the country gaol. Sophia remains at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Wallis. They have been more generous and benevolent than I can say. As you are, I hope, still traveling in that direction, I put it entirely into your hands to recover my daughter. Please, send some confirmation of this message having reached you. Otherwise, I shall, in a few days time, set out for Palmer myself.

The rest of the letter contained the general direction and address that he was to take in order to find the home of the Wallis' in Palmer. The postscript, however, contained sentiments that were rather shocking to the Captain. It was written in the fine hand of Mrs. Elton. It contained, in short, the opinion that Mr. Davies had taken advantage of Sophia. She hinted, rather broadly, that it would be sensible for Sophia to come home married in order to save her from further disrepute. Mrs. Elton believed that a hasty marriage would hush up the incessant gossip of their neighbors and somehow patch up the respectability of her daughter, even if it Sophia had to come home married to the dreadful Mr. Davies. She was, in short, begging the Captain to marry her daughter immediately, or if he would not have her any longer, to make Davies do so.

A new sort of energy took over the Captain and he urged his horse forward. Little thought was given to how he felt about what he had only just read. With so much to be done, with such an objective before him, how could he do so? With a stoic like gusto, Captain Croft rode forth, stopping only twice to seek advice for his present course. The town of Palmer lay before him after many hours had pasted. Whether he would think on it or no, an anxious fear spread over him. And yet, how differently was he engaged the day before, nay, this very morning. He had had no explicit ideas or plans; he had been in doubt of his ever finding Sophia. Yet, here he was and she must be within the town. Long days of fear and doubt had come to an abrupt ending. After having been pointed in the right direction, John Croft found himself riding down the very lane that Sophia had escaped on, and before him lay the home that sheltered her.

John cast off all sense of decorum and ran to the house were Sophia had found refuge. He did not bother to knock or ring, but simply burst in. Next, he ran headlong into the servant and demanded that she lead him to Sophia directly.

The moment he set eyes on her was the happiest-nay the most magnificently indescribable moment of his life. So many emotions poured through him that he could not even give name to them. Luckily, Mr. and Mrs. Wallis had decided to leave the young couple alone and did not witness his break down. Indeed, before he could even speak a word, John sank down into a chair across from Sophia's bed and cried. Sophia, who was equally distressed for his sake, rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him. No words were spoken yet. As John slowly composed himself, he seized her hand and kissed it.

"So long, so long." He whispered with a choked voice.

"Shh." She soothed. "It's all right, everything's alright now."

"Are-are you-you're not-" He asked urgently.

"He imposed on me, but he did not harm me." She told him firmly. "I guess I am made of tougher stuff than I look." That was truer than she knew. An illness had left her looking gaunt and pale. Her eyes were glossy from fever and with dark smudges underneath. Her hair fell lank and lackluster at her waist.

John was puzzled, indeed, by her seemingly composed attitude, especially since he could not seem to contain himself. "Aren't you going to-to cry, or something? I mean, weren't you afraid?" He asked, a little shamefaced.

"I was terrified at first. But, then I figured that I must be able to find a way to get out of the situation. After all, Davies isn't very brilliant, when it comes down to it. Still and all, it was nothing more than an uncomfortable ride in a stagecoach. Frederick (John winced visibly at his name) is an irrational, emotional simpleton. I knew he would do something to slip up eventually." She would have gone on explaining but John asked her to please wait. The last nine or ten days had been little short of torture for him. Yes, he was beyond blessed to have found her in so short a time and alive and well. However, he needed time to collect himself and deal with the problems at hand.

"Wait till we get home," he told Sophia. "Then you can explain what happened to your parents and myself at once."

Eventually, after much deliberation, Sophia broached the subject that had proven so volatile only a short while ago. Even now, she did not know how John would react and her nerves quailed. It must be done, however, and she held her head up to look straight into his eyes.

"John?"

"Hmm."

"John, well, I've been wondering. I couldn't help but notice how late it is. That is, I was wondering when you would be leaving." She said quietly.

The Captain looked down for a moment, thinking. After a short while, he looked up and grinned sheepishly. "I've got a postponement." He said. "I don't sail for another year at least."

Sophia's eyes widened in disbelief. "A year?" She gasped; something seemed to strike her as odd and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. With hands on her hips she said, "John. Why didn't you ask for a postponement earlier? That would have saved us from going through a whole lot of trouble and heartache!"

"Because, Sophia, the King does not allow the Royal Navy to stop functioning for weddings. It was because of your abduction that the Admiral took pity and secured a postponement for me. We did not know how long it would take to find you."

"Oh." She replied. "So, you mean that the kidnapping was a blessing in disguise? And next time we disagree I'll simply turn up missing."

The poor Captain looked nonplused for a moment before realizing that she was teasing. However, in all seriousness, he told her,

"Dearest, I had a lot of time to think these past weeks about what I said to you when last is was in -shire. I was so stubborn over something so trifling now that I look back on it. I've been afraid that I would never get to tell you that I am sorry. I love you more than anything."

Sophia attempted to blink back tears that were threatening to spill over. "I think that we've both been selfish. But we have plenty of time to learn to serve each other, right? Hopefully, we'll both learn to truly value each other through our decisions and actions after this."

They sat in silenced and eyed each other nervously. The other half of Sophia's question was not answered yet and she was not sure if now was the time to bring it up. Ah well, there is no time like the present.

"When are we going-"

"Sophia, let's get married." John interrupted.

"Right now?"

"No, I mean, when we get back to Middleton. We'll invite everybody."

Sophia wanted to see just how determined John was to get married. "John, don't you think we ought to think about this? I'm not sure how my family will react. They might not want to lose me so soon. We've got plenty of time now that you don't have to sail for another year."

"Sophia, I don't think your parents even expect you to come home without a husband."

"Why not," she asked curiously.

"Well, they question, um, your chastity, if you will." He said uncomfortably.

"What? But, John, nothing happened! You believe me, don't you?" She said with much alarm.

"Of course, I believe you! Maybe your parents will too eventually. But, Sweetheart, there is plenty of room for suspicion. The neighborhood will probably never accept that absolutely nothing happened between you and that man, willing or no. Having a husband won't make it much better, but being unmarried with that kind of a thing hanging over your head will be pretty terrible."

Sophia let the awful wash over her. Her reputation was sunk and she would probably be looked down on with much disapprobation even though she had not willingly run off with Davies.

Sophia's return to Middleton was not as disgraceful as her friends and family had supposed. The young lady's reputation in the community was very high in general since she was a sweet, good sort of girl. Her return to her family was joyous indeed, and for a moment, poor Captain Croft was forgotten. That is, until Mrs. Elton slipped and referred to her daughter as Mrs. Croft.

"We are not married, Mamma." Sophia corrected her.

"N-not married. But, John, I thought I gave you instructions to marry her in Palmer." Said Mrs. Elton with some dissatisfaction as she turned toward him.

"There's no harm done, Mariah." Said her husband gruffly. "Let them alone."

"We plan to get married directly, Mrs. Elton. Sophia and I where determined, you see, to have our friends with us on that day." The Captain informed her very firmly.

Mrs. Elton moaned and pulled out her handkerchief. "What is to become of us?" She moaned again.

"Oh, Mamma, it makes little difference. Anyway, we want to get married on Sunday; that's in only two days. Caroline and Bridget are going to be my bride's maids. Oh, John, you don't have a best man!" Sophia said. "Myles is all the way in London."

"Yes, I suppose we'll have to do without one." John thought to himself for a minute. "I could always ask Dr. Dixon, I suppose."

"Oh, Phineas, yes, of course." Cried Mrs. Elton. "He will be happy to oblige! But what will we do with you after that?"

"What do you mean?" Her husband asked her.

"The honeymoon, of course!" She cried. "My dear Mr. Elton, have you put no thought into the wedding?"

"I have, of late, been more preoccupied with finding my daughter, Mrs. Elton. Believe me, a wedding would be a more pleasant topic for my thoughts of late."

"I was thinking," said the Captain. "Perhaps Sophia and I might travel to Dover to stay with my some old friends of mine."

Mrs. Elton turned up her nose, "And who might they be?" The lady was not, by nature, mercenary but she did not like the idea of her eldest daughter living under the roof of, what she thought might be, persons of far less fortunate circumstances.

"No need for you to turn your nose up, Mrs. Elton." Said Croft with tolerable patience. "There is a man by the name of Professor James Hewitt. He and his wife Catherine are childless and I am to inherit a considerable estate from them."

"What?" Everyone exclaimed.

"John, you never told me that you were to inherit an estate!" Sophia cried with much astonishment. Her fiancé smiled and informed her that he had not known himself, but that he had received a letter that morning from Professor Hewitt's lawyer informing him of the business.

"Apparently, the gentleman that was the original beneficiary was conducted himself in a way that was unsatisfactory and the Fawcetts thought that I would be a better candidate." John laughed nervously and raked his hand through his hair. "I am quite shocked, I must own. Even more so now that I have just told you, it seems so outlandish. But then, luck has been definitely in my favor this last week."

Chapter 23

"Here I am once more in this scene of dissipation and vice
(London), and I begin already to find my morals corrupted."

"Oh! OH! Agnes! I've got rice in my eye, I think!" Clara wailed.

"Oh, let me see, dear girl." Agnes stopped what she was doing and peered into the afflicted eye of her friend. "There is nothing here, Clara."

"Yes, there is. I can feel it." Clara persisted.

"Try rubbing your eye, or something. Flush it out with water."

"Where am I going to get-Oh! Look! Here they come!" Clara exclaimed. The Captain and his bride were making their way down the aisle outside the church made by the guests. They were assaulted by a storm of rice and flowers and the less fortunate bystanders where soon picked off by the more aggressive throwers.

"Agnes! There's rice in my ear!" Clara cried.

"Let me see." Agnes sighed with resignation. "Clara, there is nothing in your ear."

"OH, yes there is! Honestly, I can feel it." Clara insisted.

"Perhaps you should stay home when the next wedding rolls around, Clara." Agnes suggested. "They don't seem to agree with you very much."

"I like weddings. But, they always mean change. That's what disagrees with me the most. Now I have to readjust to another friend off and married. What am I going to do with myself."

"Clara, don't you think that that's a little bit selfish of you?"

"Well-I guess." Clara admitted defeat. The bride and the groom had gone and Clara walked with Agnes down the road toward the Bennett's parsonage while Charles was detaching himself from admiring parishioners.

"Clara, is there something else that is bothering you?" Agnes asked quietly.

"No, nothing." Clara lied.

"I see." Agnes said. "Clara, do you suppose that there is something that is bothering you?"

"Yes!" Clara moaned. "I am the only nitwit that hasn't got a husband!"

Agnes looked as if she had expected as much from her friend. "That is not true, Clara. Greta is not married, either. Besides, you should enjoy being unmarried while you can. It isn't as much like a romance novel as you may think."

"Agnes, I thought you were happy being married." Clara said.

"Oh, do not mistake me! I am very happily married. However, there are certain things about being single that I miss somewhat. I just think you should not take some of those liberties for granted."

"Agnes, you sound like an old mum. Well, what you say may be true, but until I find out for myself I will never fully believe you." Clara acknowledged.

"No, I don't suppose so. I know I did not." Agnes said humbly. "That's just like us, passing on advice we never cared to use ourselves."

"Agnes, I can't stand it. I feel like such a fool."

"Why? Because you don't have a man to call your own?" Agnes asked caustically. "Clara, nobody thinks you are a fool. There are more important things than having a line of beaus to show off. Things like service, virtue, wisdom..."

"That is all fine and well, Agnes, but those things don't make you feel alive, or-or your soul glad." Clara checked her friend.

"Is that so important? That your ‘soul feels glad.'" Agnes said rather smugly.

"Yes. It's the best thing there is." Clara finished.

The event had not passed well for Miss Parker, either. However, her despondency took a far more dramatic turn than her friend's. After the newlyweds had left, Clara found herself in the drawing room with Greta at the Grange. Mr. Granger was in Bristol on "business" and had no definite plans as far as returning home is concerned. Tonight, Greta had a specific purpose for visiting her friend and she did not waste time being politic or prudent.

"Clara, we've got to get out of here." Said Greta firmly. "We've got to go to London."

"To London? Are you mad?" Clara gasped.

"A little, I must confess, but we've simply got to do it. Will you come with me?" Greta exclaimed.

"I'm scared." Clara whimpered.

"Will you come, Clara?" Greta nearly demanded.

Clara thought long and hard. "Yes, Greta! Yes!" Then she asked her friend exactly what were they planning to accomplish while there. Greta paced the room for a moment and took a long swig of tea.

"We're not coming home till we each have a husband!" She declared.

"Oh dear." Clara's eyes bulged. "How are we planning to do that?"

"How? How? What a faithless question! How? Why-we'll figure that out later. What we need to worry about is when." Greta told her. They sat in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. To agree that they would go to London was far easier than actually doing it. Eventually, Clara revisited the question.

"How are we going to pull something like this off?" Asked Clara after the moment had passed. Now that the emotion had left, she began to realize even more fully how difficult a trip to London might be, not to mention obtaining husbands.

"We could stay with my aunt and uncle in Waterloo Crescent." Said Greta. This was not the first time she had anticipated a trip to London.

"I don't know, maybe we should wait. For me, it's not so urgent." Clara stated fearfully.

"Is this a game to you? You step out as soon as it gets hard? No, we are going to London if we have to sleep on the streets." Greta said firmly. "This is the plan, I'm going to write to Aunt Lynd and tell her that we are coming. Their house is so large that two more people will easily go unnoticed."

"I hate to be a wet blanket, but how are we going to get there." Asked Clara. "My father, along with the carriage, happens to be in Bristol at the moment."

"By the London mail cart, of course." Greta replied. "My family cannot spare their carriage, either."

"With the post? Greta, do we look like the post to you? We can't go with the post, we'll be kidnapped and abused by strange men!"

"Nonsense, Clara."

"Sophia got kidnapped. Can't we just hire a regular coach?" Clara pleaded.

"No, it costs too much. We're not getting any help from our parents, if I guess correctly." Greta said matter-of-factly.

"We're going to have to go home by mail, as well?"

"No, not if everything works out the way it's supposed to."

"I don't understand."

"Oh honestly! Clara, Myles and Mr. Wood have gigs of their own, or at least the money to hire one." Greta told her. "Or, we could simply skip the going home part."

"Oh. That's if everything turns out right. It's a bit of a risk. But then, if it were easy, then anyone could do it, I suppose."

"That's the ticket."

Clara and Greta prepared for the journey in their own ways. Clara was home alone as usual and easily got her things together. She did not bother to write to her father, but simply informed Mrs. White, the housekeeper, of her journey. Greta had more of a difficult task at hand. She had to write to her aunt and persuade her parents, who did not know that Ingram had gone to London, that her intention was to visit her cousin Mary Lynd. Mr. Parker did not like his daughter travelling about the country without his or his wife's supervision. Mrs. Parker believed that her daughter was rebounding off of the Captain and would attempt to procure another proposal from Daniel de Bourgh. However, Greta fought bravely and soon got her own way. As expected, the Parker's carriage was not offered them, much to Mrs. Parker's dismay. But, on this point Mr. Parker stood firm.

The ride to London with the mail was uneventful despite Clara's foreboding. They were not waylaid by highwaymen or abducted by the villainous mail carrier. As romantic as it might have been and though it might have been a good opportunity for our heroes to prove their mettle, the civilized English countryside was hardly the right setting for such adventures. Well, Sophia Croft might be the exception. As it is, a frail man named Thomas drove the London mail and was extremely cheerful, hardly the sort to abduct unsuspecting females. Whenever they would listen, he told the girls old stories about mishaps with the mail and all sorts of trouble he had bungled into. It was very entertaining for three-quarters of the tales where "improved upon" by age and eccentricity. For instance, Thomas insisted that his right leg had been cut off by drunken Jacobites who were still trying to put King James back on the throne (maybe he hadn't looked recently, but his right leg looked as attached as ever).

The moments on the wagon, however, began to grow a little less cheery as time wore on. Greta and Clara silently anticipated their arrival into the great city for it was the first time that they would be their own mistresses. It was little likely that Mrs. Lynd would take any notice of her niece and companion. She was not an ill-bred woman, unless to be conceited and malicious is to be ill bred. Mrs. Lynd never had adjusted to her brother's hasty marriage to Nora Knutson and congratulated herself on her own advantageous marriage. Her children were raised to be civil little brats toward her brother's family and to hold them in mild contempt. No, Greta and Clara would be left to their own devices.

Just when it was become most difficult to remain seated on the hard wooden seat and listen to more tales, the city could be seen from a distance and all hope of return was in vain. "Well, if I may be so bold," said Thomas as they drew to a stop outside the post office. "I'll wish you both a fine stay in London. Mind there ain't much society this time o' year, so I'm told, but I'm sure ye'll never want for amusement. What part of town are you staying at?" He asked.

"In Waterloo Crescent, Mr. Thomas." Said Greta. "With my aunt."

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Thomas." Said Clara timidly as she helped herself down from the wagon.

"Not at all, miss, not at all." Thomas waved them off as he directed several young men who were helping him with the mailbags.

Clara and Greta stood by their things and stretched sore muscles while they waited for the arrival of the Lynd's carriage.

"You don't suppose they forgot, do you?" Asked Clara.

"I'm not sure. You never can tell with my aunt." Greta replied impatiently.

"Oh, look! It's that man, Greta. It's Daniel de Bourgh!" Clara gasped. It was, indeed. In fact, he had spotted them already and turned his equipage in their direction.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Parker. And you must be Miss Granger." He said when he was near enough. "What a pleasant surprise! I say, are you waiting for someone?"

"My aunt's carriage is supposed to be here to collect us. But, I think my aunt might have forgotten." Said Greta.

"Oh, that's most unfortunate." He drawled. "But, perhaps I can be of assistance. What part of town are you destined for?"

"We do not mean to-" Clara tried to dissuade the young man from offering his assistance but Greta had elbowed her squarely in the ribs.

"We are headed for Waterloo Crescent if you will assist us." She told him.

"Certainly," he said. "You, man, come over here and help me load these young ladies' baggage." Mr. de Bourgh jumped out of his gig and took their things. After, he assisted them each into the gig, paid the man, and sped off into the city.

Clara whispered indignantly to her friend when they were both settled in the back seat. "What are you thinking? We do not want to throw ourselves into the same company as Danny de Bourgh. You know what my opinion of him is."

Greta was clearly unconcerned about what Clara's opinion of the matter was. "Clara, how else do you suppose we would be getting to Waterloo Crescent? Besides, I have my reasons for encouraging his society." Clara shot her a questioning glance. "No, of course, I did not plan to meet up with him; but he will come in handy, I think."

That settled the matter as far as Greta was concerned. A relatively uneventful ride ended relatively quick and the young ladies found themselves before the doors of the Lynd residence.

A servant opened the doors for them and curtsied. Mr. de Bourgh had gone so far as to escort them inside and ordered a servant to see to their luggage. Mrs. Lynd who twittered about forgetting things and other inconveniences soon joined them. She stopped immediately upon seeing Daniel de Bourgh standing in the doorway.

"Oh! Forgive me, I did not know that you were bringing any friends besides Miss Gardiner." Mrs. Lynd said to her niece.

Clara muttered something unintelligible under her breath but it would be safe to assume that it had something to do with the slight regarding her name.

"He is not staying with us, Aunt. Mr. de Bourgh was kind enough to drive us from the post office." Greta said. "Mr. de Bourgh, this is my Aunt Lynd." Mrs. Lynd immediately recognized his as a man of quality and offered her hand when he had bowed.

"How kind of you, sir. I am terribly ashamed of myself for having neglecting my niece. It was quite an accident, I assure you. I always feel these sort of things more than anyone else, though. I would never want anyone to suffer the way I do." Said Mrs. Lynd in a syrupy voice. "Perhaps you would like to join us for tea?"

Mr. de Bourgh accepted the invitation cordially and escorted his hostess into the drawing room. Greta and Clara followed, not knowing if they were invited or not.

A petite young woman with uncommonly pretty hair and stylish mode of dress sat daintily on a chair near the fireplace; she was in the process of pouring tea. She stood as the party entered the room and eyed the gentleman curiously.

"Mr. de Bourgh, allow me to introduce my eldest daughter Mary." The gentleman bowed again and the girl gave him her hand. She then curtsied to her cousin and was introduced to Clara.

Soon, a collection of governesses, children, and their father entered the spacious room. Mary coordinated herself between pouring more tea and flirting with Mr. de Bourgh. The gentleman, however, was more interested in her cousin to pay her any attention. In fact, he was in the process of giving out an invitation.

"...And Stanley was just discussing with me how dreadful it is that society had dwindled so terribly. I do not recall it ever being quite so low around here. I am glad you've come to London."

"How kind of you." Greta replied. "I only hope that I can find things enough to keep Clara and myself occupied. Clara does not get out very often, you see, and I brought her along solely for her own amusement." Her friend naturally had plenty to say in way of objections on this subject but Mr. de Bourgh took no notice.

"That reminds me, my good friend Reginald Longbottom is having a bit of a ball at his place. The Longbottoms are always having company over. Never a dull moment, I always say. Anyway, if you'll do me the honor, I'd like to escort you and you're friend to the ball on Tuesday." He said gallantly. "There will be plenty of young men to tempt you, I'm sure, Miss Granger."

Clara was about to give him a put down, but her friend interrupted her.

"Thank you, Mr. de Bourgh. I am sure that Clara and I would be delighted to join you. But, perhaps, Mary will be in want of some company. I would not want to desert her so soon after arriving."

The whole room was silent and listening intently for Mr. de Bourgh's reply. "Of course, if Miss Lynd is equal to such a scheme and would like to come with us, she certainly may." He said jovially. "It would be an honor." He nodded his head in Mary's direction.

rs. Lynd and her daughter were both sensible of the courtesy Greta had performed on Mary's behalf and immediately believed her to be the most charming relation that they had ever met.

The tea was finished and Mr. de Bourgh expressed the need to be gone. Mrs. Lynd saw him out the door and invited him to call again. "Greta," she said. "How did you ever find such an amiable young man?"

Greta overlooked the slight by saying, "He courted me once."

Mrs. Lynd and her daughter were all astonishment. And, instead of being grateful for the lady's lack of attraction toward the young man, they passed her off as a very woolish country bumpkin who could not see an eligible bachelor if he kissed her.

"He must be very rich, I believe." Said Mrs. Lynd.

"Oh, he is, some six or seven thousand a year." Greta answered.

Presently, the ladies were shown to their room. The staircase was long and circular, with paintings that lined the wall and the right while the left was open to show the view of the downstairs hall. At the top of the stairs, a large, many paned window was the first thing that met the eyes. It was nearly as tall as Clara herself and from the looks of it, could open up like a door. Their room was the first on the floor, oddly enough. The room had two beds place in it. "How generous." Said Greta as the door was closed. "They have several spare rooms and they shove us both into one. Oh, well-what's the matter, Clara?"

"I do not believe it. I cannot believe it." Clara said distractedly. "Are you off your head?" Greta did not answer so Clara went on, "You are here to find Captain Ingram, are you not? What is this? You're frolicking about the city with the illustrious Danny de Bourgh! What if the Captain sees you? Are you trying to ruin everything? How could-"

"Clara, I've told you that I've got a plan. No, of course, I am not trying to ruin things between Myles and myself. But, how else am I going to get thrown into his company?"

"You could simply take a hack over to his brother's home in-"

"Clara, you would never do that yourself. Besides, I wouldn't need a hack, I could walk."

"What about Danny? What does he think?" Clara asked.

"Who knows? Anyway, Aunt Lynd and Mary seem to have taken a fancy toward the fellow. Maybe they'll keep him preoccupied."

Clara immediately worked on unloading her trunk and getting settled into the crowded little room. Greta, however, sat on the end of her bed and watched Clara put her dressing away.

"Clara?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you're plans?" She asked.

Clara put a dress away and thought for a few minutes. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I hoped that I would bump into Mr. Wood accidentally or he would hear that I had come and he would try to find me out. But I know it cannot be so. He would not try to, if he knew that I had come. I am afraid, I suppose. I do not know what to expect." She told Greta.

"Maybe you'll hear something about him at the ball in two days."

"That would be nice, but you know as well as I do, that it never works out. My hopes are bound to be raised for nothing."

"Well, I shall raise mine and if I am disappointed, then I shall go to his brother's house. And, if that does not work, then I shall have to marry Danny de Bourgh."

"That isn't funny." Clara said grudgingly.

"You could have him."

"Urgh!" Clara grimaced and pretended to choke. "Not upon my life!"

"He is good looking, and I am sure you're children would be very ridiculous. You'll have a lot, you know." Greta teased.

"You are incorrigible!" Clara chided as her face reddened and she threw a pair of clean crinolines at Greta's head.

"I hate balls!" Clara hissed to herself as she darted about the room. Though it was not terribly crowded, there were enough inhabitants to make one uncomfortable. "How could Greta desert me like this? It is terribly cruel. And I do not know-oomph!" She had run headlong into something.

"Talking to yourself, Miss Granger?"

"C-Captain?" Clara exclaimed with shock. "Oh, no!" Her first instinct was to turn around and walk as fast as she could to avoid a confrontation. She followed that instinct, but her way was blocked and the Captain pursued her.

"Won't you have a seat, Miss Granger? It has been quite some time since we last met in Middleton." Well, whether she would sit or not, she certainly did.

"So, what brings you to London this time of year?" He asked. "Are you with your family?"

"No." She answered as she searched the room for her friend.

"Are you with Mr. Wood?"

"No." She replied crossly.

"For pity's sake, who are you with?"

"Miss Parker and I are staying at her Aunt Lynd's residence in Whitley Street, Waterloo Crescent." She firmly decided not to look at his expression, so she peeked up at him twice.

He did not look shocked, happy, or angry. Rather, he seemed to be calculating something in his head.

"Is Miss Parker here tonight?" He asked.

"Yes, she is somewhere, I suppose. We came with that gentleman-Mr. de Bourgh." She pointed him out as he danced with Mary Lynd across the room.

"I see. Is he a relation?" The Captain asked.

"No, Mr. de Bourgh courted-um." She stopped and slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Courted Miss Parker, I take it." He said coldly.

Clara nodded her head and started to sob.

"Good heavens, Miss Granger, pull yourself together." Captain Ingram looked around nervously and then led the poor girl away to foyer by the grand staircase; nobody was there.

"It's all my fault." Clara sobbed. "I told her not to come tonight, but she wouldn't listen. I told her if she was seen with Danny, something disastrous would happen. And here it is, but then it is my entire fault. I am the one who disclosed the whole thing to you."

"Calm yourself, I can hardly make out what you are saying." He said gloomily.

"You mustn't think anything ill of Greta. She came to London expressly to see you, but she wouldn't barge in on your brother's family in order to see you." Clara explained through her sobs. "She thought that she could use Mr. de Bourgh to find out things about you. Then, somehow cross paths." Clara sniffled.

The Captain handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her nose daintily.

"Miss Parker came to see me, you say? Why?" He asked soberly.

Clara sniffled once again and then sighed raggedly. "Because she loves you, of course." She replied matter of factly. . "She could care less about what your social status is our what her father thinks of you." This thought seemed to bristle her temper and she immediately stopped crying. "And! It was very wrong of you to leave Middleton without so much as one word! Like a spoiled child that did not get his way, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"John Croft and I had an agreement, Miss Granger. Surely, you can understand that." The gentleman said crossly.

"Oh, yes. But what Captain Croft and yourself both failed to realize is that more than one person would be involved in your little bet! Did it ever occur to you that someone else might have been hurt beside yourself? No, I don't suppose so, men rarely imagine that anybody is worth considering over themselves." She chided.

"Miss Granger, I do believe you've said enough." The Captain replied. "If you'll excuse me, I will go and find Miss Parker myself."

Clara was left alone at once and tried to recover from the shock of having run into one of the very men she had least expected to meet that evening.

Greta had seen him. Honestly, it was more than she had hoped for that night. Some news of him would have been sufficient, but to be thus thrust upon was too much. Thankfully, the small balcony was deserted and she could find peace and solitude for her thoughts and feelings. If only she knew what Clara was saying to him.

Alas, the unfortunate Danny de Bourgh interrupted her from her reverie. He had not spotted her at first and seemed slightly distracted, he muttered something to himself and took out a cigarette.

"Excuse me, Mr. de Bourgh." Greta said. "Would you mind not smoking?"

The gentleman was startled but soon regained his composure. The cigarette was snuffed out and he walked over to where she sat. Greta noticed that he was even more agitated than she was. Her curiosity soon overcame her discretion and she asked him what was the matter.

"Oh, a mere trifle." He said. "It's not very important."

"Oh." She replied calmly.

"Of course, um, there is something I wanted to speak to you about." He said.

Greta's heart beat furiously within her as the possible meaning of those words stuck her. She had not foreseen a recurrence of his sentiments, not so soon, at least. "Mr. de Bourgh, I think I would prefer to go in-"

"No, hear me out." He said nervously. Something was very odd. "Please-last summer I offered you my hand. You, however, were unsure of whether or not you would take it. You left London after promising to give me an answer. Now you have returned and in all those months I have never heard one word from you. Do I interpret it correctly when I say you came to seek me out again?"

Greta was not yet equal to a reply and Mr. de Bourgh went on. "Of course, my pride was hurt by being thus cast off. I sometimes believed I had wasted my time courting you last summer. But when I saw you stranded on the outskirts of town, I knew it had not been in vain. Tell me, Greta, will you not have me now?"

"Mr. de Bourgh, please allow me to explain before you continue in this fashion. I-"

"You, of course, are aware of my assets. I received seven thousand pounds per annum; I have a house in town; the capability of taking an estate in the country; a very handsome barouche and four; not to mention-"

"Sir, I cannot allow you to continue in this manner. I am sorry if I cause anyone pain, but there it is. I have never fully loved you. I may have felt partiality, but now I see it was wholly parsimonious on my side."

Mr. de Bourgh's face contorted with so many expressions at once that it was difficult to make them all out. Greta saw his expression change from anger, arrogance, timidity, and then relief. However, Mr. de Bourgh said in a confident tone, "Surely, one cannot expect to marry anybody nowadays without some mercenary motives. I assure you, it is nothing to me."

"I have since learned that possessions and connection do not make a person what they ought. I am sorry but I did not travel this distance to find you out or beg a renewal of your addresses."

"Really, Miss Parker, if I have embarrassed you, then I am sorry. But, you do not need to deny the truth. What other reason could you have for coming?"

"Indeed, I am all earnestness, it was quite another gentleman of whom I seek. He does not have the material wealth or as easy a countenance as you do, but I love him. Perhaps, I have said too much." She finished firmly. To her amazement, however, instead of finding him out of spirits, the man seemed positively relieved.

"Well, that settles it, I reckon." He said lightly. "Good evening, Miss Parker."

Clara left the foyer where she had been composing herself. The ballroom was a little less crowded and the air more relaxed. She had not gone far when Mr. de Bourgh spotted her. She noticed that he looked slightly shaken and was trying to hide it.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I was just looking for you!" He said with feigned cheerfulness. "There is someone in this room who would claim an acquaintance with you. Can you not guess who it is?"

Clara was quite alarmed to hear those words. Surely, if she had not been equal to meeting Captain Ingram, then how on earth was she going to meet Mr. Wood? "I-I'm sure I do not know." She told him.

"Come, madam, let me show you." Mr. de Bourgh led her through the crowds of people and to a small group assembled on sofas. She was not altogether familiar with any of them, and Mr. Wood was not included at all.

"Miss Granger, allow me to introduce you to Lady Gould." The ladies exchanged pleasantries, the name seemed to ring a bell.

Lady Gould then went on to introduce the others that sat with her. "Miss Granger, though it had been some years since we met last, I hope that you will at least recall the names of my children. This is my eldest son Frank, and my two daughters Belinda and Penelope. This gentleman assures me that you are the Miss Granger from Middleton in -shire of which my family was once intimately acquainted. "

Clara instantly remembered the family. Lady Gould had been a good friend with her mother, Letitia Bertram Granger, and the whole family used to visit them for the summer. Of course, her mother had died almost eight years earlier and the Goulds had not come for nearly ten years as Mrs. Granger's health was failing (as well as her fortune). "Well, I certainly remember the long visits your family would pay my family. Though it has been some time since you have come at all, and I did not recognize any of you." Clara said cheerfully; then she blushed, hoping that Lady Gould would not be offended at being unrecognizable.

"Your mother and I had grown up in Somerset together; naturally, we would try to see each other as often as possible. It was very unfortunate that your mother did not have the good sense to live a little longer. But then, it probably turned out for the best, as your father's fortune did not last much longer than that. ‘Tis a sad business, old aristocracy falling from distinction. It happens all the time nowadays." Said Lady Gould insolently if not absentmindedly.

Her children looked uncomfortable during her speech. The young man, however, took it upon himself to rectify the situation and asked Clara to dance. This brought her back to reality and she looked about her. Mr. de Bourgh was gone completely and she could do nothing else but accept Mr. Gould's hand.

Clara took the opportunity to appraise the gentleman more closely. He was handsome, to be sure, and there was something athletic in his air. She remembered, as if a thick layer of dust was being softly blown away, that Frank was not much older than she.

"You must forgive me, but I am a little off kilter. I only arrived two days ago." Clara said after he caught her staring at him.

"Do you often come to London, Miss Granger?" He asked politely.

"Not very often, I was here last summer, though." She said. They danced in silence for a few minutes.

"We're having remarkably good weather this time of year." Frank said lightly.

"Yes, the roads are remarkably dry." She answered with a laugh. "I am sorry if I appear to be terribly insipid tonight. So much has happened this evening that I did not expect."

"Sorry ‘bout that." Said Frank. "My mother, in her old age, does not believe that she must adhere to the rules of delicate society."

"It did not offend me, sir." Clara said sincerely. "Do you still reside in Somerset?"

"No, my family had taken a house in town and plans to reside here permanently. Though there is plenty to keep a young man such as myself busy, I find that the country suits me much better." He said.

They were temporarily separated, "-and why is that, sir? I find it is rare to meet with young people that do not long for the excitement of the city."

"That is because I prefer the loose formality of the country. It is so relaxed and time simply flows along."

"That is how I feel." She replied. "Not to mention that I prefer country manners, which are so much more sincere than city ones. What do you think, Mr. Gould."

"Country manners?" He said. "I think they're charming. And since we agree, why don't you call me Frank. After all, we can't be very far off in age, if my memory is correct."

Clara smiled at her new-old-friend.

It was very curious. Mr. de Bourgh's behavior was very singular, indeed. He seemed most relieved after she had refused him, and yet, so very nervous before. The revelations were of little consolation and the feelings already inspired by a different gentleman soon reduced her to tears. Greta was torn between fear of seeing Myles after so long and uncertain an absence and the great desire to resolve the situation. With a fluttering heart, Greta stood up and turned toward the doors. To her utmost surprise, there in the doorway stood Myles, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.

Panic surged through her as she remembered the whole situation with Danny de Bourgh. Greta immediately tried to explain herself; she did not look up while she rambled unintelligibly. Finally, after she had confused even herself, she looked up. Myles wore a smiling expression and he stared at her with such intensity that her knees threatened to buckle.

"I know. I made him do it." Myles said.

"Hmm?" Greta looked quite confused, especially since she had forgotten what she had told him. It surprised her that he had that sort of influence over her.

"Mr. Berger-er-whatever his name is, I made him propose to you."

"But w-why, how? I don't understand." Greta was quite overcome with confusion.

"You see, I had a pleasant chat with your friend, Miss Granger (sigh), and she told me that you were once on very good terms with our friend Mr. Bagman, but you had come to town expressly to see me. Naturally, I decided to test this theory out and I asked him to do me a favor. I found him rather obstinate at first, but it was nothing a few threats couldn't break and he became quite compliant."

"You mean," she asked, "that you made him propose to me so that you would find out which one of you I was in love with?"

"Precisely."

"But I thought that you said Clara told you that I did."

"She did, but I like to know things for myself."

"You could have just asked me, Myles. I would have told you myself that I came expressly to see you." Greta said candidly.

"I could have, and, you know, I probably did not even need to ask. I think I believed Clara, anyway. However, now Mr. DuPont-"

"-de Bourgh"

"Mr. de Bourgh knows where you stand, and that is one obstacle out of the way." Said Myles. He crossed the balcony and sat down on the bench next to her.

"You should have written to me, to let me know that you were coming." Myles said softly.

"I would have if I had felt I that you desired communication. But, there was no way to know, considering that I had not heard one word from you since that one fateful day in November." She said. To her own surprise, there was not one note of bitterness in her voice, but simple honesty and despair.

"I'm so sorry, Greta." Myles whispered. "I have been wrong. I know I have." He let out a small, strangled laugh. "This would be so much more bearable, so much easier, if you had slapped my face and ranted and raged. Your charity towards me stings my conscience bitterly."

"I am a little surprised, myself." She said. "I am not, by nature, so quick to forgive or to forget. But, I think that in this situation-I am in a great hurry-to get to-whatever it is-that is beyond-whatever happened. I am not very good at articulating what is going on in my head."

"I know what you mean." He said.

Captain Ingram and Greta Parker sat in comfortable silence and breathed the night air (though it was not very wholesome air in the city). Inside, the music from the band drifted out to them softly.

It was understood by the lady and the gentleman that the engagement, once broken off, was fully and happily resumed. Their first task was to send a dispatch home to Middleton announcing their plans and to ask for Mr. and Mrs. Parker's blessings. Did they need the Parker's blessings in order to marry? The answer is no; however, the Captain and Miss Parker agreed that they would have liked the blessing all the same.

The second task was to present Miss Parker to the second branch of the Ingram line. There was Mr. Lance Ingram, his wife Betsy, and their children: Edward, Susan, Anne, and little Peter. They were a well-mannered, good-looking family; though, Greta did notice a certain stubborn streak that seemed to also belong to the Captain.

Mr. Ingram was pleased with his brother's choice of a wife and assured them that he and his family would most certainly be present at the wedding. Naturally, Mr. Ingram would be the best man. The first meeting was a success and Greta was at ease. In fact, she looked forward to further chances of discourse with Mrs. Ingram.

The third task was equally, if not more pleasant. That is, Captain Ingram and Miss Parker must be seen in public as often as possible. There was nothing temping at the Lynd home to often keep them there. Also, there was the unfinished business involving Clara and Mr. Wood. It had been a week since the two young women had arrived and they had had not one word or glimpse of him.

At any rate, it is on the third task that we now find the new couple and their tag-along. To anybody else, the park would not be particularly inviting at this time of year. Nothing green grew and there was a large amount of dirt. But then, two out of the three were too preoccupied with future plans to notice. And the third was too busy looking at the various carriages and walkers for signs of Mr. Wood.

Greta and the Captain strolled slowly along and whispered to each other. Clara tried to keep up but she felt her eyelids grow heavier as she struggled to stay awake. It had been a long night for her, as usual; and trudging along at this dastardly pace without any share in the conversation was very irksome. Clara wished that Cosette had come to London. They would be having so much fun, running around and laughing at people or shopping.

Therefore, it was very convenient that Frank Gould and his sisters were walking in the park as well with some of his friends. They were a very good-looking group, flirting and cavorting.
"Good afternoon, Miss Granger." Said Frank with a gallant bow as they approached.

"Good afternoon to you." Clara returned, "And to you Miss Gould, Miss Belinda."

The other ladies returned the greeting merrily and Frank introduced their friends, Mr. Thomas Clemens and Mr. Harry Moncrieff.

"Do you walk alone?" Frank asked.

"Oh, no. Miss Parker and her fiancé are with me, but three is a crowd, so to speak." The talked in a group for some time, and the couple was quite out of sight.

Presently, Miss Gould suggested, "Frank, why don't you ask Miss Granger to come to the ball at the Inn. I am sure she will have little chance of company elsewhere."

Frank seemed quite struck by the idea and quickly followed his sister's example. "Yes, why not? Surely, Miss Granger, you would come. It is sure to be a smashingly splendid ball."

Clara knew that the ball itself would hold little pleasure for her. However, Frank would be there and she always enjoyed her time with him. That is, she enjoyed their last two conversations now that he was a civilized young man. She recollected that he once put a spider down her frock when she was younger.

"I would speak with Miss Parker first." She replied to their invitation.

"Well, that's good enough, I suppose." Frank said.

"I am so glad," said Miss Belinda. "Did you know, Harry, Miss Darrow is going to be there."

"Oh, really," Said Mr. Moncrieff. "And that, of course, means that her pet monkey will be there, too." Everyone but Clara and Frank found this piece of trivia very entertaining. Apparently, it was an inside joke between the four.

Clara was faintly startled. The name of the lady was horridly familiar somehow. However, she could not remember.

"Her pet monkey? Yes, that is a very good description." Said Mr. Clemens. "I hope that I would never let a woman truck me around they way he does." The two sisters exclaimed and flirted and waved their reticules.

"Who are you talking about?" Ask Frank rather blankly.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, Frank." Said Miss Gould. "You don't pay attention to the Quality, anyhow."

"No, I don't." He said. "Nor should you. So-who is her pet monkey?"

"Someone by the name of Wood, I believe." Said Miss Gould. "Apparently, he is very rich and happens to be prodigiously handsome. He does not say much, but follows her around like a pet poodle."

Clara felt like she had been punched in the stomach. So, it was Mr. Wood. She recalled her conversation with him the night before he had left. "Oh, Sir and Lady Wright have a ward named Miss Darrow whom they have been trying to get me to court for seven years now-ever since she came of age." Could it be that the Wrights had caught hold of him after he had fled Middleton. Well, perhaps fled is too strong a word. Desertion was more like it, Clara thought bitterly. Nevertheless, she found it a little difficult to forgive the others for referring to him as a monkey.

The Captain and Miss Parker had not noticed their friend's absence. However, I am sure that Miss Granger forgave them the slight.

"You have not seen much of your friend, Mr. DeWire, lately." The Captain said. "He might feel neglected."

Greta looked incredulously (in a flirty kind of way) at her beau. "It happens to be de Bourgh, for the thousandth time. And, I have not seen much of anyone lately, except you."

"I am sorry for that." He winked.

"Why should you be sorry for that? I don't mind." Greta replied. They walked silently for a time. There was something between them, Greta could feel it; and yet, she was afraid to bring the subject out into the open. However, it must be so, sooner or later, they would have to face the facts.

"Myles, are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?" She asked seriously.

The Captain smiled down at her, but it did not reach his eyes like it should have. "No, darling, you have done nothing."

"Then won't you tell me what is bothering you?" She pleaded.

"I do not want to offend you, in fact, I thought the matter was dealt with. However, I suppose I must tell you. It would not be fitting to go on like this. Greta, I cannot-no matter how much I love you or how much I try-forget the conversation I had with your father."

Greta feared that those words would come. She did not know how to minister to his or her father's pride. She let her gaze wander to the ground as she fought with her doubt. Eventually, Captain Ingram spoke again. "Have you had any word from your family?"

"No." She replied softly.

"Greta, I know that when we met again only a few days ago, we were determined to marry with or without a blessing. But, have you seriously considered what a possible estrangement with your family would be like? It may not seem like much, not at first. You may even be glad of it, until your pride stops smarting, that is." Greta had turned away from him during his speech. "Greta, listen to me. I love you and I will marry you, regardless. But, please consider the consequences of this union. I have experienced alienation from my family. Maybe I never fully told you the tale."

Tears smarted behind Greta's eyes. Why was he telling her this? Yes, he said he would marry her, but was he actually begging to be released from their engagement because of her father? She took a deep breath and asked him to tell her whatever it was he was thinking.

"As you know, Lance and I both inherited the Ingram Shipping Company after my father's death. He was, as the eldest, the chief proprietor of the company and I had the task of captaining the ships. I loved that more than anything, I loved the sea more than anything. Of course, the sea has had to take the back seat recently." He smiled a secret, sad smile to himself. "Lance built up the fleet considerably, so much so that he could not spare me. I have more knowledge of ships and so forth than he does. Lance wanted me to sit in an overcrowded office and appoint other captains, he wanted me to manage them. Naturally, I told him that I would not even consider it. I was adamant. I wanted him to consider another man for the job. He argued that it was my duty as our father's son to help supervising the company, not roving all over the world. To my shame and discredit, I allowed this situation create a rift between my brother and me." The Captain was silent for a time and Greta was not sure if he wanted her to say something in reply. However, she kept silent and waited for him to continue. "I quit when I realized that we were both too proud and too stubborn to compromise. I quit immediately and bought a commission into the Royal Navy. My mother could not believe that I would ever do such a thing. She blamed me for the breaking up, I think. She believed that I was shaming my father by leaving. Unlike families nowadays, mine had a very lofty idea of what honor is." Myles paused again and seemed to struggle to compose himself. Greta had never seen the Captain so vulnerable, not even the night on the balcony. "Greta-the only reason why Lance and I are on speaking terms today is because of my mother's death." His voice cracked with sorrow that had been suppressed for quite some time. "Because of her death, I realized that I had been foolish to allow such a small, trifling matter part me from my family-which is so important. I have to live with that sort of regret."

Greta's heart was full of the story she had just heard and the emotional response from Myles. She still could think of nothing to say that did not sound superficial or lukewarm. Finally, the Captain added, "I told you this, Greta, because I don't want you to regret this decision we've made when you have to face the same situation."

"Myles, I am not ever going to regret that I chose to marry you. Don't you ever believe that I will." Greta surprised herself with the amount of vehemence in her voice. "My family has not sent any word to me, but I will get over it. Myles, my father will get over it. I love you and someday my father will come around. All he has to do is see that you are a worthy man and capable. What's more, I know that my mother looks on this match with pleasure, though she does not write. That is my father's doing. However, I am positive that my mother will make him come around someday. I do not fear them." Greta was a little embarrassed by her outburst and changed the subject. "Oh! Where has Clara gone off to?"

"Clara? Oh, I forgot about her." Said Myles as his eyes viewed the park.

"Don't tell her that." Greta returned. Finally, they had spotted her coming down the lane with the Goulds.

"Clara! Where have you been?" Greta demanded.

"Sorry, I fell behind. But, look what I have found. You did not get a chance to see him the other night. However, I am sure that you remember the Goulds from Somerset that used to visit the Grange." Clara chattered.

"Hello, Miss Parker." Frank bowed. "Well, I have returned your young friend to your side and now I must accompany my companions to Picadilly for some dinner. Good afternoon, Captain." With that, the Goulds and the two gentlemen were off.

The Captain was a little put off as he had never been introduced to Frank and felt that it was a bit presumptuous of him to address Greta and himself so familiarly. However, Greta did not notice. "Myles, I do believe that we should follow their example. I do declare, I am most starved." They too left for Picadilly.

That night, Mr. and Mrs. Lynd were to attend a party held by a business associate of Mr. Lynd's left one of the nannies with the younger children. Mary, however, was out with some acquaintances for the night. The Captain had some legal business to attend to and that meant that Clara and Greta were left alone to entertain each other.

The two sat comfortably in the small parlor at the back of the first floor. Since the children were asleep and Mary was going out, the house was quiet and Greta permitted the servants to retire for the evening. Her mind was full of the next few days, as the wedding was scheduled for that Sunday.

"Clara, we shall have to ask my Aunt Lynd were a good hot house is." She said as she leafed through some of her notes.

"Don't you know where a good hot house is? Didn't you ever use flowers this summer?" Clara asked.

"Of course, I used flowers." Greta replied. "But my mother always had servants get them."
"Oh. Are you going to have a dress made?" Clara asked.

"A dress made? Clara, I am getting married in four days, I do not have time to have a dress made. However, I already planned ahead. I brought one of my best dresses from home. I am surprised that you did not think to do that."

Clara agreed with that, she ought to have thought about bringing a really nice white dress. However, she would not admit it. Besides, all her white dresses where for summer. Anyway, Greta continued to look through her notes and tick of different things. Clara, though comfortable, was growing bored. She found that since they had found Captain Ingram not even a week ago, Greta spoke less and less to her. However, the Captain, especially when Greta was temporarily preoccupied, made efforts to speak to her. The exchange was not very satisfactory but what choice did she have?

Suddenly, a thought passed through her mind that almost took her breath away. As soon as her friends entered into the Marriage State, they seemed to vanish off the face of the earth for long periods of time. Well, maybe not off the face of the earth, but she certainly did not see them outside of their homes very often. For example, Agnes was married nearly six months ago (well, maybe three or four months), and Clara could count on her fingers, the number of conversations she had had with Agnes since. Not to mention the fact that she was already expecting her first child. Then there was Harriet. She had only been married for about two months. Clara grimaced, why had all her friends married in the fall or winter? Anyway, Harriet did everything with Phineas, such as lectures, house calls, etc. Sophia had only just married the Captain, but they were planning to move to Dover when the old lady and gentleman moved to smaller quarters. Oh yes, then there was Cosette. Clara wondered if she was still alive. Only one letter had reached the Frazers since the elopement. Fortunately, Charles was able to say that the two were, if fact, legally bound in marriage. Of course, that only allowed Mr. and Mrs. Frazer to direct their injured feelings at him. They were not pleased that the young Reverend Mr. Bennett had allowed the upstarts behave in such a reprehensible a fashion. Greta was not even married yet and already her attention was lost. It is selfish, Clara supposed, to be envious of my friend's attention. After all, I knew it would happen someday. Of course, I did not fancy that they would all go at once. I certainly do not like change any better than I did this summer. Well, once I am married I shall-Clara's thoughts were interrupted from what would have been a rather uncharitable thought. There had been a slamming or banging noise that reverberated through the house. Both the ladies looked up after being thoroughly startled.

"It must be a thunderstorm." Clara mused.

"A thunderstorm? Don't be silly, we never get thunderstorms in January. Perhaps we had better look into it." Greta said.

"Are you mad? If it isn't a thunderstorm then what could it be?" Clara suddenly clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't tell me, I do not want to know."

"Clara, come with me. We've got to check it out."

"NO, we can't! If it is what I imagine it is, well-we'll just have to stay here, otherwise we'll be murdered."

"And how do you know that?" Greta demanded. She had risen to her feet and tapped one impatiently.

"I've read it in books. The only people who don't get murdered are the ones who don't go poking their noses around."

"Don't be stupid! Come on!" Greta dragged Clara out of the room, through the hall, and up the stairs where the noise had come from.

At the top of the flight of stairs, they saw that the large window at the bottom of the hall was hanging open. A few panes of glass were broken and the top of a ladder could be seen leaning against the side of the house. Cold, wet wind filtered through the opening and chilled the girls. Naturally, the two young women were alarmed by the presence of a burglar in the house and were in a state of near panic. They went into their room, checked to make sure no one was there, and then Greta decided that they must do something. So, she tiptoed out of the room and toward the window. Next, she pushed the ladder and it fell into a nearby tree. Then they stood in silence. Surely, the burglar was still on the top floor, so they listened by pressing their ears to doors and waited to hear some sort of movement or disturbance. Greta and Clara had almost made it to the staircase when they heard a noise in Mary's room. The girls were frozen in fear and each nearly fainted. However, Greta said,

"Clara, what was that sound? Something is in that room!" Greta gasped. She turned the doorknob as silently as possible and the door swung open.

Clara's eyes bulged and both she and Greta turned away. Clara hissed as quietly as possible in her rage, "It's in the curtains (gasp)! No, wait, there are two of them! Thieves, spies, infidels, how dare they defile such a place as the inside of a curtain!"

"Clara, that is not the point!" Greta chided her in a nervous whisper.

"What is the point?" Clara had the nerve to ask.

"The point is, there are burglars in there and we have to do away with them before they does away with us."

"Ohh, that's clever. What will we do?"

"Quick, grab that candelabra, and I'll take this poker. Let's go."

The girls tiptoed into the room trying not to make any noise, which of course meant that there was a creak for every step Clara made.

The occupants of the drapery did not detect their approach; however, they were preoccupied. Greta seized the drapes and pulled them away.

"Mary Lynd!" Cried Clara before she had time to think about it.

"Danny de Bourgh!" Cried Greta with rage.

It was true; Mary and Danny were caught in the act of cuddling and kissing! The culprits let out a unanimous gasp of surprise.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Mary demanded.

"The question is not what I am doing, but what are you doing! Look at you!" Exclaimed Greta.

"Shameless hussy, philanderer! Humph!" Clara stammered indignantly.

"We aren't ashamed! We are getting married!" Cried Danny vigilantly.

"Then why are you hiding behind a curtain?" Asked Greta.

"Because, it is dark and secretive!" He said.

"I always said he was dark and secretive," said Clara.

"We are eloping to Switzerland!" Mary said vehemently.

"Oooh!" Cried Clara with excitement. Greta elbowed her in the stomach and said,

"Daniel de Bourgh! You proposed to me only four days ago!"

"But you said no, and I am glad you did! It allowed me to know your cousin better! We are in love and there is nothing you can do about it!"

"You sicken me!" She said.

"Me too!" Shouted Clara. "Curtains were made to hide from lovers not to hide with them!"

Greta was ready to give each one of them, including Clara, a solemn blow on the head. Instead, she started lecturing her cousin. "Mary, how could you treat your family like this?" She chided. "Surely, your mother would be terribly upset by your elopement not to mention the your lack of propriety with this gentleman."

"Oh, of course that old bitty won't mind. After all, Danny is terribly rich! That will be enough to satisfy her. Now, stand aside! We are leaving!"

Clara had never heard the girl utter so many words to Greta at one interval and never so arrogantly. It was rather annoying, so Clara said, "You'll have to go out the front, I'm afraid. Your ladder fell into an obliging tree."

"What?" The ignoble couple shouted at once.

"We can't go out the front door!" Mary fumed.

"We haven't much time, come on." Danny urged.

"NO! You get out there and put that ladder up right! I am not going to leave through out that door like I am going on a walk in the park! This is an elopement and you are going to do things right! I will be carried off!" Mary was impossible to talk to and pursued, so Danny grudgingly did as he was told. It was a long process and rather painful for him as he had to literally carry her down the ladder. Finally, however, they were both settled in his gig and drove off into the night.

Clara and Greta were back down stairs, pretending that they were ignorant of the whole thing as they were ordered. In an hour, they were instructed to send for the police and maintain that they believe Mary to be with her friends. It would be a long night.

© 2003 Copyright held by the author.

Next

Back

Back to Novel Idea