CHAPTER 13

They took dinner with the locals at the tavern in order to dispel any suspicions about their situation, and Andrew good-naturedly explained in detail how they had strayed from their destination (a village four miles away) due to the treacherous dusk. His tale of running from an infuriated bull in a field and losing his wife’s belongings in the resultant haste, not to mention the facer a branch landed on him on the way, made for much hilarity and tap-room bonhomie.

Rachel, meanwhile, was busy in writing letters in the dark little room set aside as a parlour. After finishing an epistle detailing her safe arrival at London to Diana, she sent off one to her sister Lucy Moreland in London telling her about the sudden trip of the family to Derbyshire for Master Brian’s health. Illness stood her in good stead with both letters – while Brian Herringford’s ‘mumps’ must of necessity keep her busy and restrict contact with her family, a story spun about an outbreak of scarlet fever at the Morelands’ residence and subsequent quarantine would serve as ample reason for pausing correspondence between Carillon Hall and Cresswell Street. Rachel just hoped and prayed that no one would notice the unexpected postmark of the Happy Brothers pub of Marsham-in-the-Vale on the missives. Hopefully, she could spare her family and friends any heartache; not to mention the easing of umpteen questions which she would have had to answer on her return otherwise.

Mrs. Phipps was a kind lady. She met Rachel just after the girl had finished sealing her letters, and immediately frowned upon her muddied apparel. “Ye can’t expect to sleep in that, dearie!” she exclaimed. “What about yer night things?” On hearing about the regrettable loss of the couple’s hand luggage in their rush from the villainous bull, she took it upon herself to outfit this unfortunate girl in decent garb till she reached her destination and had better things to wear. With this mission on hand, Mrs. Phipps rooted around in a moth-eaten hope chest for countless minutes and finally presented Rachel with a frayed but respectable nightgown.

It was voluminous and shapeless, and was the closest thing to a sack the girl had ever seen; but it admirably removed all of Rachel’s inhibitions of appearing in night clothes before her ‘husband’. Now, she mused uneasily, it only remains to be seen whether I get a chance to change into it at all, with my ‘husband’ being present in the room…

Finally, Rachel and Andrew were provided with a candle and a large tattered blanket and ushered into the cramped attic by a curious little girl, who wanted to know everything about the latest novelty in their hamlet but was too shy to ask. She kept on touching a couple of stray locks that had escaped Rachel’s hasty bun and were bouncing on her back, and peeked bashfully at Andrew when she thought that he could not see. It took the two of them all their ingenuity to dismiss her from their room while keeping their amiable images intact.

Considering their eagerness to be rid of the girl, it was almost humorous how strained the atmosphere became once Rachel and Andrew were left alone and the candle lighted up the bed in the centre of the room. Both became extremely interested in their surroundings and, while Rachel kept on contemplating the weave of the bedraggled blanket, Andrew started investigating the sparse furnishings of the attic. Finally when she was sure that he must have resorted to counting the beams lining the ceiling in boredom, Rachel looked at him from under her eyelashes and made up her mind. His nervousness made her fears recede. After all, someone had to open the proceedings.

“Why we are feeling so awkward right now, I really cannot imagine,” she confessed with characteristic forthrightness and, catching his eye at last, smiled reassuringly. “It is as if all the hours we have spent together today have been wiped out of a sudden – and that is utterly silly, isn’t it? I am still me and you are…you. Let us use this privacy intelligently; you know how eager I have been all day for the details behind our kidnapping and escape.

“Please tell me the full story of you and your cousin now,” she finished eagerly.

Andrew grinned in return, grateful for her sensible suggestion. His collar, which had been feeling particularly tight and restricting for the past few minutes, went back to its normal size and he drew a deep breath in relief. “You are right. We ought to be putting our moments of rest to good use. So I shall tell you everything finally, keeping nothing back.” He paused a while to gather his thoughts before proceeding. “To begin with, I am not a coachman or groom by birth, nor by actual profession. I am Colonel Andrew Fairfax from the Duke of Alvingstall’s Cavalry Regiment, and the second son of Sir Anthony Fairfax of Silvermead Hall near Langton.”

Rachel’s eyes flickered involuntarily. His noble mien and decisive bearing was explained satisfactorily now. Goodness, a week ago she was trying to convince herself that as a coachman he was below her in social standing; how the tables were turned on her indeed! Far from being her social inferior, he was the son of a knight – and a Colonel in His Majesty’s Army in his own right. Hear that Miss Warren, daughter of a parson and governess in your own right?

Rachel shook her head to clear it of such distasteful thoughts, and diverted her attention back to Andrew who was reciting one of the most fantastic tales she had ever heard in her life.

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“I am also a first cousin of the infamous heiress Miss Miranda de Manley on my mother’s side. You must have heard about her unusual disappearance two months ago. Mira and I had been close ever since I can remember – allies against the world from childhood, and our friendship never flagged even when we grew up. Naturally I had to help her when she told me that she was in danger.

“In order to explain to you the peculiar conditions which led to Mira’s present situation, I will have to give you a brief summing up of her financial expectations. Miranda’s mother Lady Gloria was the sole living child of the extremely rich Earl of Astonby, and Miranda herself is Lady Gloria’s only issue. Not unnaturally, she was the apple of his eyes and, when she was eight years old, her grandfather willed a large estate in Kent and forty thousand pounds in her name. It was allotted to her in a codicil to the Earl’s original will on his deathbed. He stipulated that the bequest should be kept in trust for her until Mira attained the age of twenty-one years, when she would come into the inheritance. He had left a lot of money to Lady Gloria as well which would revert to her husband and any other children on her death, but he wanted to make his beloved Mira a rich woman in her own right rather than dependent upon her parents.

“Of course, if she were to die before attaining legal adulthood the money was to be divided among any other siblings Miranda might be having, failing which it would revert to the estate.

“Lady Gloria was Alistair de Manley’s second wife. He already had two grown up sons by his first wife, and Desmond and James de Manley always showered their little half-sister with love and possessiveness. In fact, once in my childhood I had overheard my aunt telling Uncle Alistair how lucky she was that her step sons did not bear any rancor towards her and Miranda.” He blinked once, before fixing his expressive eyes on Rachel. “Rancor…it does not always leave visible traces behind, Miss Warren. This duplicity made their betrayal so very devastating when it occurred.

“Lady Gloria died of a miscarriage when Mira was ten, and Uncle Alistair followed her five years later. His sons started showing their true colours around that time. They left their sister behind in Dartmoor and shifted their base to London, becoming frequenters of London’s gaming hells with a vengeance. The de Manley fortune started declining rapidly due to their uninhibited extravagance. They went thorough Aunt Gloria’s money as well, and by the time Mira was introduced into London society they were left on the brink of bankruptcy.

“The only source of money that they could hope of appropriating any more was Miranda’s under her grandfather’s will, but it was tied up for her alone and was out of their reach. They decided to go for the main chance, and appropriate all the wealth for themselves – by getting their little sister out of the way.”

Andrew’s voice became bitter and he stared into the guttering flame of the tallow candle while speaking, his fingers clenching at his sides occasionally. “Desperate people can find loopholes in the best laid plans. Unfortunately, the codicil was written in a hurry on the Earl’s deathbed without a lawyer present, and only specified that Mira’s inheritance would go to ‘any living siblings’ on her death. As you can guess, the word ‘siblings’ is defined as two or more people sharing one or more parents; therefore, half-brothers can also claim to be siblings.

“On realizing this, the fiends lost all brotherly sentiments and started plotting to get rid of her and take over her fortune. Their problem was that she would be attaining the age of twenty-one within a few months, and they could not afford to be in the vicinity when she…met her end…otherwise suspicion would instantly fall on them and they would be disbarred from inheriting in her place. Therefore, they decided to do nothing till they had migrated innocently to France, where they could remain secure with a cast-iron alibi while Mira was dying at the hands of their hired hoodlums.”

He must have spied disbelief on Rachel’s face, because he barked out a short laugh and said, “All this is not conjecture but the truth, Miss Warren. Trust me, they are my own cousins as well, and I had a much harder time believing this than you. Their plans were overheard by a very reliable audience. Mira had come up to London for the Little Season, and one night her faithful maid Rosie was going towards the library to put back a book when she found out their nefarious plans. They were actually sitting in the study of de Manley House discussing different ways in which Mira could be accidentally yet fatally injured – with her sleeping above their heads at that very moment! Aghast at the conversation she had unwittingly witnessed, Rosie dashed to Mira (for whom she has a deep regard since childhood) and told her everything.”

“My poor cousin did not believe Rosie until she herself crept downstairs and caught the tail-end of their strategies. She was almost out of her wits at this revelation of supreme treachery; it was Rosie who kept her head and, in the wee hours of the night, devised their escape from the house. They both stole away into the night on foot with some money and Rosie’s clothes, and left London in blessed anonymity. They journeyed on and on, either walking or taking lifts from farm wagons, until they reached a distant shire where neither of them was known.

“There they lived in the local inn as sisters for three days, while the entire Ton was heaving and falling about the abrupt disappearance of a Diamond from her home by night. The furor only grew when it was ascertained that she had not eloped with a swain as is sometimes done in our circles, but seemed to have vanished without a trace or reason.

“All this while, the women were rendered incapable of communicating with anyone by the simple fact that they didn’t know whom they could trust. Spies seemed to be everywhere, and the de Manley brothers were leaving no stone unturned to flush her out of her hiding.” He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “People thought it was a wonderful gesture of familial affection.”

“I can’t even start to comprehend what terror Miss de Manley must be feeling at that time,” whispered Rachel, rapt in the story. Never once did she think that the quiet girl she had befriended back at the Hall had so much hidden strength. To give up her own well-organized life for the sake of another at such short notice, and then to support her all through the trials they must have faced during that terrible period…her respect for Rosie increased manifold. No wonder Andrew was so friendly with her and so protective of her well-being! Her loyalty and sharp wits were the reason his dear cousin was safe today.

Andrew nodded in grim affirmation. He no longer resembled the cheerful man she was used to, and she was starting to see the tortured person who lived under the facade of normalcy. Rachel suddenly had an insane desire to take his face in her hands and smooth away the lines of sorrow etched there. She restrained herself forcefully, and concentrated on what he was saying.

“Indeed, it always makes me shiver when I reflect on the damage wrought on Mira’s personality by her step-brothers’ treachery that night. When I finally met her, she had changed from the happy trusting girl I had known into a haunted creature, wary of sudden movements and questioning the motives of everyone around her.

“She finally decided to contact our family through letter for help, since we would not inherit her money under any circumstances and therefore, ought to be safe from the temptation to…‘hasten her end’, as she put it.” His lips twisted in wry humour. “Even then, she used the added precaution of designating a millinery shop in the nearby village as a neutral meeting place, and had the place staked out an hour before the time of our assignation to be sure of our sympathies. It was a wise measure, though it still breaks my heart that she had to resort to such tactics by her circumstances.

“I was home on leave when the missive arrived. I can still recall the incredulous fear of the eight days when all we knew was that Mira had disappeared suddenly without a trace; the mingled look of horror and relief which appeared on my mother’s face on reading the precious letter, and the baffled fury which I and my brother experienced on learning about the situation. My father has been an invalid these two years, and Stephen’s wife was expecting her first child any day when we received word from Mira. There was no question of his leaving her at that moment on such a dangerous quest and, after an hour’s battle as hard as any I have ever fought, I managed to convince him to lie low and let me take care of our Miranda.

“Thus within a day of getting the letter, I found myself waiting at the designated shop with hope and fear warring in my breast until she came to me. I had a hard time recognizing my fashionable cousin in that rough peasant’s dress and haggard expression. Sweet, joyful Mira was lost in the self-effacing woman standing in front of me.” He choked up momentarily before continuing, “After assuring ourselves about the other’s health, we adjourned to the room where she was living with Rosie to chart out a plan which would ensure her safety.

“First of all, we decided that staying on at the inn for a long time was not a viable idea. It only required someone to become curious about them, or someone recognizing Mira as an absconding heiress, for her step-brothers to smoke out her hiding place. We cannot bring any action against her step-brothers since officially they have not made any move on her life yet, and even when they do so they are bound to be cautious enough to do it through minions who cannot implicate them. Their crime would not be traced to them; and even if it were, it would be too late for Mira. All that we could do was ensure that she could remain safe till she attained the age of maturity and could claim her rightful inheritance. Therefore, we came up with the plan to disguise Mira and hide her where the scoundrels could never reach.

“An inquisitive nature and years spent in close association with Rosie and her mother (who was the de Manleys’ housekeeper) ensured that Mira had gotten to know the mannerisms and work expected of a domestic servant quite well. The only child in a house situated in the lonely wilderness of Snowdown in Dartmoor, she had few friends while growing up and it was one of her favourite games as a child to borrow Rosie’s apparel and try to mingle with the staff as one of them. It gave her the idea now to live as a maid in the country, since no one would ever dream that the Miss de Manley would even know how many servants she employed, let alone how to act as one; and she would not be recognized by anyone of prominence if she remained below stairs.

“I tried hard to dissuade her from such madness and offered to take her to Headley Down where I believed that she could be safe, but she remained adamant about staying near London so as to be on the spot if her brothers tried anything else to deprive her of her money. I had no alternative but to give in to her demand, with the one condition that I stay nearby so that I could help her if the need ever arose. Thus it came about that Rosie went to live at Silvermead Hall, and Mira and I were appointed as parlor-maid and coachman respectively at Carillon Hall.”

Rachel’s breath was coming in gasps by now. “So this – this means…that our Rosie…”

Andrew nodded once in amused affirmation. “…is Miss Miranda de Manley, scion of the Astonby family.”

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Rachel took a moment to assimilate the piece of news. Strangely enough, it was much easier to accept Andrew the coachman as Colonel Andrew Fairfax, a respectable member of the gentry – but then, she had always suspected him of being more than he showed to the world. Rosie being someone else had never entered her mind at any point of time. But reflection reminded her that Rosie had always been genteel for a maid, quieter and more self-possessed than any of the maids she had ever known. Her efficiency at her job and natural reticence had simply clouded Rachel’s perception of such factors.

That poor, poor girl! No wonder she was always so glad to talk with Rachel about everyday things, but could never be forthcoming about her own background!

Andrew was still talking. “While thinking of an identity for her, we decided to stick as close to the truth as possible so as to minimize any mistakes she might otherwise make, and therefore she took over the identity of a real person who had been with her for over fourteen years and whom she knew intimately. Even if someone became suspicious about her association with Miss de Manley, investigation will only turn up that the lady actually had a personal maid called Rosie – who would naturally have to search for work now that her mistress had disappeared.

“As for me, my knowledge of horses in His Majesty’s Cavalry helped me to gain a post as a groom, and I soon found myself with the post of a coachman as well. It helped me to keep an eye on everyone who came to the house, since I would be the one conveying them around or tending to their mounts. Mira disguised herself by darkening her noticeable hair colour with a lead comb and hiding her eyes under hideous spectacles. Thus we continued to live on in relative anonymity; until the day you arrived.”

Rachel looked up at him in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with all this?” Indeed, that was the question to answer which this entire story was being told to her now.

He smiled gently at her, and answered her unspoken comment. “You have so much to do with our story that you are currently sitting in this dark little room with me after escaping from goons hired by Desmond and James de Manley. You see, these ruffians have been searching for people resembling Mira across England, and on reaching Denbries they amassed information about its inhabitants soon enough.

“You arrived just a week after we did. You took up a position much more compatible with what Miss Miranda might be comfortable with. You are about her height and age; you are as vivacious as she was reputed to be. Most damning of all, the hair which Mira hid by darkening it is reddish-brown in colour. The eyes, which required spectacles to screen them from detection, are green like mine. You, my dear Rachel Warren, answer perfectly to a description of Miranda de Manley.”

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 AN: Yes, I know...I stopped and the night isn't over yet! But if I opened all my cards now, then how will you anticipate the next chapter? :)

 And guess what, I am going out of town for the weekend and will be back only on Sunday (by Indian time, at least). So no update till then...*ducks flying shoes, tomatoes, et al.*