Rendezvous

  “Trouble?” Peter spoke softly in the shadows, all trace of banter gone from his voice.

  “The back door is standing open. There is no light and no sign of Sally. Take Augusta back to the house. Rejoin me once you have seen her safely inside.”

  “Understood.” Peter reached out to take Augusta’s arm.

  Augusta sidestepped him hurriedly. “Harry, no, please let me come with you. Sally might have become gravely ill. Perhaps that is why—”Augusta cried out as her toe tangled in the hem of a woman’s gown that had drifted out from beneath a clump of bushes. “Oh, dear God, no. Sally.”

  “Augusta? What the hell—” Harry spun around and started toward her.

  Augusta was already on her knees, crawling frantically beneath the heavy foliage. “’Tis Sally. Oh, Harry, I know ’tis her. She must have collapsed out here. Sally.”

  Augusta touched her friend’s body, fumbling with Sally’s expensive silk gown. Her black gloves were instantly soaked in warm blood. A shaft of starlight gleamed dully on the hilt of the dagger that was still buried in Sally’s breast.

  “Goddamn his bloody soul.” Harry’s voice was savage as he tore his way through the bushes and dropped down beside his old friend. He groped for Sally’s wrist and felt for a pulse. “She lives.”

  “Christ.” Peter found his way to Sally’s side. He stared at the dagger and swore again. “The goddamned son of a bitch.”

  “Sally?” Augusta grasped the limp hand and was horrified by the cold feel of it. Sally was dying. That was a certainty.

  “Augusta? Is that you, dear?” Sally’s voice was barely a whisper of sound. “I am glad. Glad you are here. ’Tis not pleasant to die alone, you know. ’Tis the one thing I feared.”

  “We are all here, Sally,” Harry said quietly. “Peter and Augusta and I. You are not alone.”

  “My friends.” Sally’s eyes closed. “’Tis better this way. The pain was getting so bad. So bad. I did not think I could go on much longer, you know. Still, I would have preferred to do the thing myself.”

  Tears started in Augusta’s eyes. She gripped Sally’s hand fiercely, as if she could hold on to her through sheer physical strength.

  “Sally, who did this?” Harry asked. “The Spider?”

  “Oh, yes. It must have been him. Never saw his face. But he knew about the list. Knew I had it. Got it from the cook.”

  “What cook?” Peter asked gently. “Cook at the old Saber Club. Got it this morning from him.”

  “Damn the Spider’s bloody soul to hell,” Harry whispered. “I will see that he pays for this, Sally.”

  “Yes, I know, Graystone. This time you shall have him. Always knew that one day you would settle accounts with the Spider.” Sally started to cough dreadfully.

  Augusta held on to the frail hand more tightly, the tears spilling down her face to mingle with her friends blood. Once before she had held someone like this and watched helplessly as the life within dwindled to a tiny flame and then flickered and went out. There was no more terrible task in the world than this kind of vigil.

  “Augusta?”

  “Sally, I shall miss you so,” Augusta said through her tears. “You have truly been my friend.”

  “And you have been a true friend to me, my dearest Augusta. You have given me more than you will ever know. Now you must let me go. ’Tis past time.”

  “Sally?”

  “Do not forget to open the book, Augusta.”

  “No. I will not forget.”

  And then Sally was gone.

  Harry held Augusta as she sobbed in his arms. He could think of no way to comfort her and nothing hurt as much as not being able to alleviate her pain. This overflowing emotion was no doubt the way a Northumberland Ballinger dealt with grief and he envied Augusta the release of tears. For himself, he could do nothing but plot revenge.

  Unable to do anything else, Harry closed his arms tightly around Augusta there in the hall of the big, silent Arbuthnott mansion and willed the storm to pass.

  And he forced himself to think only of vengeance. Augusta was calming slightly when Harry looked over her head and spotted Peter coming through the back door.

  “It looks like he had time to search her bedroom and the library,” Peter said. “Both rooms are a shambles. But the other rooms are still in good order. He must have heard someone or something and left before he had time to finish the job. Probably decided that with Sally dead, no one else would be able to find the list, either.”

  “It’s a big house. Difficult to search thoroughly. Have you taken care of everything else?” Harry asked quietly.

  Peter nodded, his blue eyes chips of ice. “Yes. One of the servants has gone to summon the magistrate. I’ve had Sally’s body taken to one of the bedrooms. God, she was frail, Graystone. There was nothing left of her. She must have been living on spirit and willpower alone for the past few weeks.”

  Augusta stirred in Harry’s arms and raised her head. “I shall miss her so.”

  “We all will.” Harry stroked Augusta’s back soothingly. “I shall always be extremely grateful to her.”

  “Because she was so brave during the war?” Augusta blinked back the tears and dabbed her eyes with Harry’s handkerchief.

  “No, although I have always admired her courage. The reason I shall forever be grateful to her is that it was she who suggested I arrange to meet you by contacting Sir Thomas. Sally said you should be added to my list of potential wives,” Harry said candidly.

  Augusta looked up, startled. “She did? How very odd. Why on earth would she think I would make you a good wife?”

  Harry smiled faintly. “I asked her that question myself, as I recall. She said I would do better with a wife who was not in the classical style.”

  Peter closed the door. “Sally understood you very well, Graystone.”

  “Yes, I rather believe she did.” Harry gently put Augusta a little away from him. “My friends, we must do our grieving later. The authorities will assume Sally’s murder was perpetrated by thieves who attempted to break into the house. There is no point in letting them think otherwise.”

  “Agreed,” Peter said. “Nothing they could do in any event.”

  “We must find the list Sally mentioned.” Harry glanced down the hall, thinking how huge the house was and how long it was going to take to go through it properly. “I know something of Sally’s methods for hiding items she did not want discovered. She tended to choose the obvious places, on the grounds that no one would think to look in them.”

  Augusta sniffed into the handkerchief. “The book.”

  Harry glanced at her. “What book is that?”

  “Pompeia’s betting book.” Augusta bravely thrust the wet handkerchief deep into a pocket in her cloak and started down the hall to the drawing room. “Sally told me that if I ever found it closed, I must make certain you open it. And you heard her a few minutes ago just before she … she died. She said I must not forget the book.”

  Harry exchanged a glance with Peter, who simply shrugged and prepared to follow Augusta.

  The door to Pompeia’s was closed. Harry heard Augusta start to weep again as she opened it, but she did not hesitate. She walked into the dark, silent room and lit a lamp.

  Harry glanced around, curious in spite of himself. He had visited Sally frequently, but she had never entertained him here in the drawing room after it had been turned into Pompeia’s. The club was for women only, she had said. She could not violate the rules, even after hours.

  “Gives a man an odd feeling, doesn’t it?” Peter kept his voice down as he came to a halt next to Harry. “I was never allowed past the threshold, you know. But I always felt a little uncomfortable when I got a good look inside from the door.”

  “I see what you mean.” Harry studied the shadowed pictures on the wall. He recognized many of them at once. They were all women who had managed to survive in myth and legend in spite of what Augusta called the general historical bias against females. Harry was
beginning to wonder just how much history had been lost because it had pertained to women and had therefore been deemed unimportant.

  “Makes a man curious about what females get up to and what they actually talk about when they are on their own together with no men around,” Peter observed quietly. “Sally always said I’d be surprised if I knew.”

  “She used to tell me I’d be shocked,” Harry admitted wryly.

  He watched the black velvet cloak swirl around Augusta as she walked over to a Greek pedestal. There was a large, leather-bound volume lying on top.

  “This is the notorious betting book?” Harry walked across the room to join Augusta.

  “Yes. And it is closed. Just as she said I might someday find it.” Augusta opened the volume slowly and started turning the pages. “I do not know what I am searching for.”

  Harry glanced at some of the entries, all in feminine handwriting.

  Miss L.B. wagers Miss R.M. ten pounds that the latter will not get her journal returned in time to avert disaster.

  Miss B.R. wagers Miss D.N. five pounds that Lord G will ask for the Angel’s hand within the month.

  Miss F.O. wagers Miss C.P. ten pounds that Miss A.B. will cry off her engagement to Lord G. within two months.

  “Good God,” Harry muttered. “So much for a man thinking he has some privacy.”

  “The ladies of Pompeia’s are very fond of wagers, my lord.” Augusta sniffed again. “The club will close now, I suppose. I shall miss it. It was a home to me. Nothing will ever be the same here.”

  Harry was about to remind Augusta that she did not need Pompeia’s because she had a home of her own when a piece of notepaper fluttered between two pages of the book. “Let me see that.” He snatched it up and examined the list of names.

  Peter came forward to peer over his shoulder while Augusta craned her head to get a peek.

  “Well?” Peter demanded.

  “It’s a list of names, all right. No doubt a partial membership list of the Saber Club. This is Sally’s writing.”

  Peter scowled at the list. “I do not recognize any of those names.”

  “Hardly surprising.” Harry pulled the lamp closer and studied the list more closely. “It’s in the old code Sally was accustomed to use for her messages to me.”

  “How long will it take you to decode all those names?” Peter asked. “There must be at least ten there.”

  “Not long. But after we know who the members were, it will take some time to determine which ones could possibly be the Spider.” Harry folded the paper and stuck it safely into his pocket. “Let us be off. We have much to do before dawn.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Augusta asked quickly.

  Harry smiled grimly and readied himself for the battle ahead. “You must go home and awaken the household. Then you will see that you and Meredith are packed and ready to leave for Dorset by seven o’clock.”

  She stared up at him. “Seven o’clock this morning? But Harry, I do not want to leave town now that we are so close to finding Sally’s killer and the identity of the Spider. You must let me stay.”

  “There is not a chance of me allowing you to stay. Not now that the Spider is aware of this list and will stop at nothing to get it.” Harry took her arm and hauled her toward the door. “Peter, perhaps your fiancée would enjoy a short stay in Dorset?”

  “I think that would be an excellent notion,” Peter replied. “God knows I would just as soon she was out of town until we find the Spider, and I am certain Augusta would like the company.”

  “I do wish the two of you would cease making plans for me as though I were not able to think for myself,” Augusta said loudly. “I do not want to go to Dorset.”

  “But you will,” Harry said calmly.

  “Harry, please—”

  He thought fast, searching for the most effective lever to use in this argument. When he found it, he applied it mercilessly. “It is not just your own pretty neck I am worried about, Augusta. There is Meredith to consider. I must be certain my daughter is safe. We are dealing with a monster and we do not know to what depths he will sink.”

  Augusta was clearly thunderstruck by the implications.

  “You believe he might threaten Meredith? But why would he do that, my lord?”

  “Is it not obvious? If the Spider reasons I am the one trying to find him, he could use Meredith to get at me.”

  “Oh, yes. I see what you mean. Your daughter is your one great weakness. He might know that.”

  You are wrong about that, Augusta. I have two great weaknesses. You are the other, Harry thought. He said nothing aloud, however. Let her think his chief concern was Meredith and that he was depending on her to take care of his daughter. It was her nature to go to the rescue and defend the innocent. “Please, Augusta. I need your help. I must know Meredith is safely out of the city before I can concentrate on finding the Spider.”

  “Yes, of course.” She looked at him, her eyes grave with the acknowledgment of her responsibility. “I will guard her with my life, Harry.”

  Harry touched her cheek gently. “And you will take excellent care of yourself, too, hmmm?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You and Meredith shall have a little help,” Harry said. “I am sending you down to Dorset with an armed escort. The men will stay with you at Graystone until I get down there myself.”

  “An armed escort. Whatever does that mean, Harry?” Augusta was clearly startled.

  “Less exciting than it sounds. I shall send a couple of grooms with you who have been in my service a long while. They both will be armed and they will know what to do if there is any trouble.”

  “She’ll be safe enough at Graystone,” Peter said. “In the country everyone knows everyone else and a stranger in the district will be noticed immediately. And then there are the dogs. No stranger will be able to get into the house without the dogs sounding an alarm.”

  “Exactly.” Harry looked at Augusta. “And you will have Claudia for company.”

  Augusta smiled slightly. “I would not count on that. I seriously doubt that my cousin can be ready to travel by seven o’clock this morning.”

  “She will be ready,” Peter vowed softly. “I want her out of Town as badly as Harry wants you out.”

  Augusta eyed him thoughtfully. “I see. I am certain Claudia will find the experience of being sent off at a moment’s notice extremely interesting.”

  Peter shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the notion of a recalcitrant Claudia.

  By seven o’clock the next morning, all was in readiness. Harry stood on the steps of the town house and said good-bye first to his daughter. Meredith was disappointed at having to leave the city and all its entertainments, but her father had explained there were matters at the estate which required Augusta’s attention. She accepted that explanation, but nevertheless reminded him that she had not yet seen Vauxhall Gardens.

  “You shall return shortly and I will take you there myself,” he promised her.

  Meredith nodded, satisfied. She hugged him fiercely. “That will be nice, Papa. Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, Meredith.”

  Harry put his daughter into the big black traveling coach and then turned to meet Augusta, who was just coming down the steps. He smiled at her elegant dark green carriage dress and frivolous high-crowned bonnet. Trust Augusta to look stylish even when she was being hurriedly packed off to the country at seven in the morning.

  “Is all well, then?” she asked as she came to a halt in front of him. She fixed him with a steady look, her eyes serious in the shadow of the bonnet.

  “Yes. Your cousin will be waiting for you at her house. You shall all be on your way shortly. You will spend the night at an inn and be at Graystone tomorrow afternoon.” Harry paused. “I shall miss you, Augusta.”

  She smiled tremulously. “And I shall miss you, my lord. We shall be awaiting your arrival down in Dorset. Please be very, very careful, Harry.”

  “I will.
”

  She nodded and then, without any warning, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth right there in front of Meredith and the cluster of servants milling about the carriage. Harry started to fold her close, but it was too late. She was already pulling away.

  “I love you, Harry,” Augusta said.

  “Augusta.” Harry instinctively reached out for her, but she had already turned and stepped into the waiting coach.

  Harry stood watching as the black and silver coach rumbled out into the street. For a long while he simply stood there, repeating Augusta’s parting words over and over again in his mind. I love you, Harry.

  It was, he realized, the first time she had ever actually said the words aloud. He knew now that a part of him had been waiting to hear them for a very long while.

  I love you, Harry. The locked door hidden deep inside him opened wide and what lay behind it no longer appeared so bleak.

  Dear God, but I love you, too, Augusta. I had not realized until this moment how much a part of me you have become.

  Harry waited until the black coach was out of sight and then he went on up the steps and into his library. He sat down behind his desk and unfolded the list of names Sally had found. It did not take him long to decode them.

  When he was done, he studied the eleven names. Some of the men on the list he knew had died in the war. Some he knew simply did not have the intelligence or temperament to have been the Spider. A few of the names he did not know at all. Peter no doubt would recognize them.

  But it was the last name on the list that caught and held his attention.

  He was still sitting there, staring at the last name, when Peter was shown into the library.

  “Well, they’re off, safe and sound,” Peter announced as he sprawled in a chair. “I just came from putting Claudia into your coach. Meredith said to say good-bye to you again and to remember that in addition to Vauxhall, she would very much like to go back to Astley’s.”

  “And Augusta?” Harry tried to keep his tone cool and restrained. “Did she have any further words for me?”

  “Said to tell you again that she would take care of your daughter for you.”