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Teresa couldn’t suppress a pang at the thought of them enjoying some sort of expedition that hadn’t been mentioned to her. But why should it be? Tom had known the earl long before she met him. They were friends. They had shared many adventures. There was no reason to suspect that Tom also had turned against her. He wouldn’t, even if the earl had told the lad her story. Whichhewouldn’t. But the painful possibility that she’d lost Tom as well would intrude.
Telling herself that she had endured far worse, Teresa walked home and spent a restless night fending off loneliness and regrets.
She rose early enough to puzzle Eliza and quickly wrote out a description of what she’d learned and where she’d gone. She addressed the missive to Tom and left it sealed on the mantel shelf. Should it be needed, which she didnotanticipate, the maid would find it and see that it was delivered.
Vining was waiting for her at the appointed spot, a place where they could watch Jeanne’s lodging house without being noticed. Her supposed beau arrived on time in a showy phaeton with a restive team, and the girl ran out to climb onboard. Jeanne had donned her finest gown, and it made Teresa sad to see her smile up at the jaded young aristocrat who didn’t even bother to give her a hand up. He wore a scarf about his neck and his hat pulled low, Teresa noted, just as the innkeeper on the Richmond road had described. “Will we be able to keep pace with him?” she asked Vining.
“The way that young sprig’s handling the ribbons?” Vining made a contemptuous sound. “He’ll not be rattling along with those tits. Touched in the wind, I reckon.”
Taking this as a criticism of the other’s horses, Teresa nodded.
“We’ll keep back so’s not to be noticed, but we won’t be losing him.”
She pulled her head inside as they started off. She trusted Vining to know best how to follow another vehicle through London.
They threaded the city streets and headed west toward Richmond. Teresa sat back in the carriage and tried not to compare this journey to her last trip along this route. She did not succeed. She wondered how long it would take to forget Lord Macklin. And knew at once that the answer was—forever. And with that she lost herself in memories of the time they had spent together.
The carriage slowed and began to turn. Teresa roused herself and leaned out. “Where are we going?” she called up to Vining.
“Our fellow went this way,” he answered.
“But we haven’t reached Richmond Park.” Theyhadpassed the inn where they’d found some answers, she noted.
“No, ma’am. Seems he weren’t telling the truth about that.”
And why had she expected he would? “Where does this lane go?”
“Into the countryside. I know London, not these parts. I kin follow though.” Vining sounded determined.
They moved on over an increasingly rural road. Teresa wasn’t certain how many miles they had covered when a tall stone wall appeared on the right. She couldn’t see over it. When she asked Vining, he replied that he couldn’t see anything from his higher perch either. Trees on the other side obscured the view. “I’ve lost sight of the phaeton,” he said. He urged his horse on, and they speeded up.
The lane splashed through a shallow stream. The ford was bumpy. Teresa gripped a strap as she was jostled about.
“There he is,” said Vining. “Turning in at a gate up ahead.” He slowed so that they wouldn’t arrive too soon, obviously following the other carriage.
A few minutes later, they came abreast of the gate. It was solidly built of wood and gave no glimpse of what lay beyond.
“Was you wishing me to knock?” asked Vining doubtfully.
Teresa thought she had found the answer to the dancers’ disappearances. But was there any way to confirm this? Before she could make up her mind what to do, the gate opened just far enough for a huge, heavily muscled man to step out. He carried no weapon, but his closed fists and dark glower were clear threats. “This here’s private property,” he said. “No visitors.”
And yet Jeanne had been taken inside. Clearly, it wouldnotbe a good idea to ask about her.
“Righto, my lad,” said Vining. “Can you tell me if this is the road to Morbury?”
“Never heard of it.”
Teresa admired her driver’s quick tongue. She sat well back so as not to be seen.
“I reckon I took a wrong turning then,” said Vining. “Must have been back at that last crossroad. Y’ed think they might put up signposts.”
His cheery manner had no effect on the guard, for the large man could be nothing else. He made a threatening gesture. “Be off with you.”
“Yes indeedy. Reckon I’ll try the other way.” There was enough space before the gate for Vining to turn the carriage. He did so with dispatch and slapped the reins on his horse’s back. They started back at a smart pace. When they had passed through the stream once more, he spoke. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I don’t want to be going back there.”
“I would not ask you to,” said Teresa. “You may take me home now.” Perhaps Jeanne would return from her carriage ride, she thought. She could wait and see. But Teresa didn’t think she would. She’d found the source of the disappearances, and she needed to breach those walls and do something about it. For that, she had to have help, even if the idea of asking the person most able to give it made her squirm with humiliation.
Vining left Teresa at the end of her street, and she walked from there toward Tom’s lodgings, hoping that he’d returned by this time. It seemed that he had. There was a coach at his door, and Lord Macklin stood beside it. This was lucky. She could give them both her news at once, though her spirit quailed at the thought of facing the earl.
