Page 27 of Hold Me Fast
“Miss Lind suggested it,” Jowan insisted, and then honesty forced him to admit, “sort of.”
That needed explaining, and Wakefield was highly skeptical. “You are proposing to turn Miss Lind’s life upside down based on your interpretation of a ballad,” he said. “A ballad about fairies.”
“She went to the trouble of sending Jowan the message,” Bran pointed out. “Jowan’s interpretation makes sense. And we cannot ask her, for Coombe has put guards on her to prevent Jowan from speaking to her.”
“In fact, he is keeping her from all of her admirers,” Wakefield disclosed. “She is escorted to her performances, kept apart in a guarded room, escorted to the stage, and then taken home immediately after she sings her last song. However, I might have a way.” He walked to the door of his study and said a few words to someone in the hall, then resumed his chair.
“I have sent for my wife. If I can be certain that Miss Lind wants this abduction, then I have some ideas about how we might help. You might also ask your friend Lord Andrew Winderfield to help you source the horses. His family has the connections.”
A tap on the door was followed by the entry of a pretty woman, neatly dressed as befitted the wife of a successful businessman. The three gentlemen rose, and Wakefield presented Jowan and Bran to Mrs. Wakefield.
Once she was seated, he explained Miss Lind’s guards, Jowan’s plan, and Wakefield’s reservations.
“You are thinking of a maid, David,” Mrs. Wakefield said. “It would be best if it was at a home where we have friends. Can you discover Miss Lind’s program of engagements?”
“I have a footman who keeps me informed,” Jowan said. He listed the commitments for the next three days.
“Lady Hamner,” Mrs. Wakefield decided. “She is a family connection. That gives us two days to prepare. I will send her a note and ask for a few minutes to explain what we need.”
Bran had an objection. “Miss Lind travels with her own maid.”
That was true. If Mrs. Wakefield planned to use the private moments between a lady and her maid, the other maid would be a hindrance.
“So, we need to manufacture an errand for the maid. I shall think of something, Sir Jowan. Leave it to me. David, I take it you want at least an initial indication of whether Miss Lind objects to going back to Cornwall since that would certainly put a spoke in any attempt by Coombe to retrieve her.”
Jowan brightened, but Wakefield grimaced. “It might not serve. Coombe’s family seat is in Devon. East Devon, but ask, by all means. Meanwhile, Sir Jowan, Mr. Hughes, read the reports. I will send you the one on Miss Lind by tomorrow morning.”
“And we shall speak with Drew,” Bran said.
*
Another evening, anotherconcert. They merged into one another, distinguished only by the color of the parlor Tammie was given for her dressing room, and the quality of the supper supplied to her, and sometimes to her minders.
Tonight had another feature—the accident on the way in, when a clumsy maid spilled a huge vat of punch all over poor Daisy. Full of apologies, the housekeeper sent Daisy off with three maids to have a bath and change.
Tammie assured the housekeeper that she could manage without her maid, but the housekeeper insisted, so here Tammie was, waiting for the substitute maid to bring her something to drink.
At least, if the household truly was sorry about the accident, Tammie and her entourage might receive decent refreshments.
A tap on the door proved to be the substitute maid and a footman, both with trays. And yes, the supper looked sumptuous. The maid’s tray held a teapot, a cup, a glass, and a plate of mixed savories and sweet tarts and cakes. The footman carried two jugs, three glasses, and plates piled high with more savories and cake.
“Ale and cider,” he said, cheerfully, as he put the tray on a table on the other side of the room, near Tammie’s minders. “Let Prue know if you need anything else.” He nodded to the maid and left.
The maid had put her tray on a side table next to Tammie. “Will you have your tea now, Miss Lind?” she asked in a low voice, “or would you prefer lemonade first?”
“Tea, please,” Tammie told her. “Prue, is it?”
Prue nodded and bent to the teapot. “Milk, Miss? Or cream?” she asked, as her eyes slid towards Tammie’s minders, who were fully focused on their tray. Without changing her tone or volume, she added, “Sir Jowan plans to abduct you when you are riding in the park with Lord Coombe and his entourage. Do you take sugar, Miss Lind?”
Tammie blinked as she attempted to keep her expression from changing. If this was a hallucination, it was the strangest she had ever had. “Did you just say…?”
“That Sir Jowan plans to abduct you? Yes. He has asked his friends for help. They wish to check that you are willing.”
That was surprisingly logical for a hallucination. “Willing and eager,” Tammie assured the maid.
The maid was adding cream and sugar to the tea. Tammie realized she had pointed to them without thinking about it. “May I make you up a plate, Miss?” asked the maid. “He will take you somewhere safe. London? Or Cornwall? Or somewhere else?”
Does he not want me in Cornwall?“I long for Cornwall,” Tammie insisted. The maid’s hands moved swiftly to put a selection of edibles on a pretty china plate with the same pattern as the cup and saucer.
