Page 90 of Henrietta

‘Miss Clithero!’

‘Can it wait, Sally?’ Hetty said to Trixie’s maid.

But Sally could not wait. ‘Miss Clithero – it is Miss Trixie. She’s gone.’

CHAPTER XXIX.

TIMOTHY, seizing a respite from his conscientious labours on the floor, stood in the doorway of the ballroom and delicately wiped his brow. Certainly, if they could have controlled the weather, it would have been better had it been a little cooler, but aside from this he felt it would not be an exaggeration to say everything had gone perfectly. The Grandduchess looked to be in fine fettle, the Princes greatly animated, and upon the dance floor Mr Hargan was displaying himself to great credit with Mademoiselle de Nicolet, a spray of sweet williams pinned to her dress. The final cachet, however, was the appearance of great Mr Brummell himself, who deigned to appear after nearly all other guests had arrived, and complimented Lady Allerton upon the simplicity of the evening – admitting that he had found some of the excesses of the past weeks a little vulgar.

Timothy was raising a mental toast to himself when he found his wrist urgently grasped in a strong grip. He was just about to advise the ruffian to unhand him, but Hetty’s voice spoke urgently in his ear. ‘Timothy, I must speak to you! Something terrible has happened!’

A horrible premonition seized Timothy: ‘The champagne has not run out?’

His relief at her denial was short-lived. As soon as they had found a private corner, Hetty thrust a sheet of writing paper towards him – she had been clutching it in one hand – this seeming the quickest way to explain the whole. Timothy lifted his quizzing glass.

‘What the deuce—?’ he demanded. ‘Lord, I can’t read this scrawl! What is it?’

‘Trix!’ she uttered in a strangled voice.

‘Well, that settles it,’ he said, giving the letter back to her. ‘Never been able to make head or tail of her writing! Nor Arthur’s for that matter. You’d better tell me what it is.’

‘She has eloped with Captain Edgewood.’

‘What?’ Timothy gasped. ‘No, hang it, Hetty! Must be bamming you!’

‘No, no, it is the truth! She is not in the house, and she left this note for me.’

‘Well, I’m dashed!’ Timothy said. ‘Captain Edgewood? Not a good fellow.’

‘No, indeed!’ Hetty agreed wretchedly. ‘I never dreamed – Good God, I thought that affair had ended! She has not mentioned his name since the masquerade.’

And Hetty had been entirely taken in.

She could not permit it. ‘Timothy, we must act immediately!’

He blinked at her. ‘Dash it, can’t do anything tonight, not in the middle of the party! Tomorrow would be far better – nothing going on tomorrow.’

‘We can, and we must! They have fled to Gretna Green, and they have to be overtaken!’

‘Gretna Green?’ echoed Timothy, revolted. ‘No, really, Hetty! Can’t have!’

‘She says so, right here!’ Hetty brandished the letter at him again. ‘Where else could they be married, with her under age? She supposed, of course, that I should not receive her letter until too late, that all the business of the ball would hide her departure. Thank goodness her maid came to fetch me.’

When she considered how close they had come to disaster, she felt almost faint with horror.

‘You and I may slip away without anyone noting our absence! We must bring Trix home, and no one need know what happened.’

‘Seems to me we’d do better to tell Arthur,’ Timothy objected. ‘He’ll be devilishly angry if we keep such a thing from him.’

He would. Again, the vision of Arthur’s face, twisted with contempt, swam before her eyes. If she ever wished for his forgiveness, this was not the way to go about it. And yet … there were three facts of which Hetty did feel certain. The first: Trixie had asked Hetty not to betray her elopement to Arthur, and however dreadfully she had behaved Hetty did not wish to do so. The second: she could not extract Arthur from the ball without occasioning considerable notice. The last she had seen of him, he had been deep in conversation with the Grandduchess – he, at least, could not leave the house.

And third … Arthur had been right in the most literal of sense: the Allertons were not her family, not by blood, or marriage, or even wardship any longer – and yet, in a truer sense, they were. And did she not have a right to protect them, just as much as anyone else?

She drew in a decisive breath. ‘Timothy, you must know where we can hire a post-chaise and four good horses!’

He admitted it, and Hetty gave a sharp nod of satisfaction. ‘If we hire a chaise and four and change them at every stage, we shall come up with them before they have gone thirty miles beyond London! I shall fetch my cloak. Do not tell Dawson to call up a hackney. We will creep out by the door into the yard, and find one for ourselves directly!’

‘But, Hetty!’ Timothy protested, looking down at himself. ‘Can’t go driving about the countryside in evening dress! Must change!’