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Sir Aubrey’s voice cut into the shocked silence. “A man who risks going to the gallows will do a great deal to ensure his secret is not divulged.”
Hetty had to stop herself from stamping her foot when he again took her sister’s hands and raised them to his lips.
“Did he ask you to meet him somewhere?”
It was clear that Debenham had by the way Araminta looked warily at him, though she refused to answer.
“I’d be very careful, Araminta. I mean it,” Sir Aubrey said. “At the moment, Jem is missing. The butler is in high dudgeon and ready to boot him out of the front door when he deigns to show his face. I suspect that a young man who has gone to such pains to ensure he keeps his job would not risk being dismissed without a character lightly. I fear something has happened to him. For the moment, however, I want you to go over in your mind everything that was in that letter,” gently he kissed each knuckle on her right hand, “and tell me.”
Chapter Twelve
Lord Partington did most of the talking at dinner that evening, which was unusual. He remarked upon the lackluster looks of his wife and the fact the dazzling Araminta was quieter than usual.
He didn’t comment on Hetty. Probably because she was above notice, she reflected gloomily.
After dinner she went through to Araminta’s bedchamber, where Jane was waiting to attend to her young ladies with tongs and sugar water. Jane looked drawn and her voice was shaky when she told them Jem was still missing.
Hetty noticed that not a flicker crossed Araminta’s face. So her sister was going to pretend she hadn’t been one of the last ones to have seen him.
Hetty plastered on a smile. “I’m sure there’s some explanation,” she reassured Jane though she felt far from hopeful, even with Sir Aubrey now in pursuit of the truth.
He had left them shortly after Araminta recalled what she could, though her sister had been vague about the contents and spoken only in generalities. Araminta had also sworn she’d made no arrangements to meet either Jem or Lord Debenham.
Hetty was alarmed, nevertheless. Araminta spoke in vague terms about Lady Margaret’s shame and remorse over her disloyalty to her husband. And the letter seemed to link Lord Debenham with traitorous activities.
Even though Araminta could not remember in what context the word Spencean arose or how the sentence had been worded, her reconstruction painted Lord Debenham as a villain of the first order—even if Araminta still blithely maintained she was sure Spencean wasn’t a word synonymous with traitor.
When Araminta left the room, Sir Aubrey had unexpectedly gripped Hetty’s hands, pulling her to him in the window embrasure. Under the intense focus of his gaze, all the hopes and dreams Hetty had fostered regarding a future with this man were aroused.
But such hope was bittersweet and she knew she was only fooling herself, even when he’d said, “Keep a close eye on your sister. I will be at Lady Scott’s tonight, where I look forward to partnering you in as many quadrilles and waltzes as are respectable.” For an instant his promising words had thrilled her, accompanied as they were by the flash of promise in his eye. He’d then cupped her face, his expression more tender than she’d ever seen it. “Take care, little one,” he’d whispered. “If I could only turn back the clock, I would.”
Hope evaporated.
So he’d not find himself in such a compromising situation? she wondered dolefully.
Jane had finished dressing Hetty’s hair and was busy with Araminta’s when several taps upon the door had the young maid tossing the brush aside, saying, “Oh please, miss, I hope you’re not cross but I was so out of me mind with fear I told Lizzie to give me a two-tap signal if something important were learned ‘bout Jem’s whereabouts.”
Araminta nodded to her to leave the room and the sisters listened to the exchange of whispers in the passage before Jane burst in.
“They’s found ‘im in an alleyway with his head knocked in!” She began to cry. “Oh, lordy, it were my fault for telling ‘is secret! He told me ill would come to him on account of me loose tongue and it has!”
Dismayed, Hetty asked, “Is he dead?”
“They thought ‘e was ’til ‘e stirred a little.”
“Go to him, Jane,” ordered Hetty.
Araminta was not so accommodating. “And what about my half a head of ringlets? It’s hardly a look that will catch on.”
Hetty couldn’t care less what either of them looked like right then. Jem’s “accident” merely confirmed that finding the whereabouts of that letter was more important than ever. So, perhaps, was protecting Araminta, who had no idea of the danger she had caused others—and might be in herself.
Hetty glared at Araminta. “Take care how you conduct yourself tonight, Araminta,” she warned. “I think it’s hardly a coincidence that Jem is in such a way. Lord Debenham is behind this, mark my words.”
* * * * *
Sir Aubrey’s tender leave-taking was not followed up as Hetty had hoped, since the very first person he asked to dance was her sister.
Disgusted, she watched him lead her into a waltz. The way Araminta responded was enough to make Hetty want the floor to swallow them up. First Araminta, then herself.
