A Scoundrel of Consequence

When Cassandra bade her sister farewell, she thought how pale Emma looked. There was also a strange, vague look in her eyes that told Cassandra her mind was on other things. She did not pay any heed to it just then, but she would have reason to remember it later.

Cassandra and her mother had just finished their evening meal when a flustered and highly distraught Lady Monkton arrived.

‘Oh, my dears, something quite dreadful has occurred—something so dreadful I don’t know how I am ever going to tell you.’

Concerned, Cassandra immediately went to her, anxiously studying the worried lines on her face. ‘Dear Aunt Elizabeth,’ she said, taking her hand, ‘you are upset. Come and sit down.’

When her ample body was comfortably ensconced in a large winged chair, Lady Monkton snapped open her ivory fan and began to agitate the air close to her face. ‘What I have to tell you will come as such a shock to you. I wonder how to break it.’

Instinct told Cassandra that her aunt’s distressed state had something to do with Emma. ‘It’s Emma, isn’t it? Tell us quickly, Aunt Elizabeth.’

‘It’s not good news, is it, Elizabeth?’ Harriet whispered, her hand clutching the collar of her dress at her throat.

‘She’s—she’s gone—run away—eloped—with Edward Lampard.’

‘Run away?’ Harriet recoiled, her voice incredulous. ‘Oh, dear God.’ She sat down, her colour gone, her eyes haunted.

Incensed, at first Cassandra couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not until she looked up and saw her mother’s pale face beneath her lace-and-ribbon cap did she collect her scattered wits.

Deeply shocked, reaching for Cassandra’s hand, Harriet stared at her cousin. Her mother was a strong woman, renowned for her ability to maintain her composure even in times of stress, and through her work at the institute accustomed to hard work. Having dealt with the grief and heartache she had suffered on the death of her beloved James, she had thought she could deal with most things, but Emma’s unpardonable, inconsiderate and shocking behaviour had come as a hard blow.

‘Believe me when I tell you that I had no inclination she would do this,’ Lady Monkton said in a broken voice, dabbing at her moist eyes with her handkerchief, ‘and I am so sorry. I hold myself entirely responsible. Oh, I know she is fond of that young man—flattered by the attention he showers on her—what eighteen-year-old wouldn’t be? He is handsome and exciting—first cousin to Lord William Lampard, whose lineage is impeccable. Their fathers were directly descended from one of England’s oldest families, as was Lord Lampard’s mother.’

‘Yes—the ideal man for her to become acquainted with after she has made her début,’ Harriet said quietly. ‘But not at this time. I do so want her to meet other eligible young men before she settles down to marriage. Oh, the stupid girl. I knew Edward Lampard had drawn her attention, but I had no idea she had any partiality for him. Why could she not have waited? But patience never was one of Emma’s good points. None of this is your fault, Elizabeth.’

‘You are too kind, Harriet, but how could this have happened?’ Lady Monkton wailed. ‘All my hopes, all my plans—and then she elopes.’ She shook her head dejectedly. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘You have shown Emma nothing but kindness, doing all that could reasonably be expected of you—always steadfast and reliable. Since James died, you have been such a great comfort to me and made a real difference to all our lives—especially Emma’s. For that I shall be eternally grateful. No, Elizabeth, I do not blame you—only my silly, wilful, Emma, and myself. I spend so much of my time at the institute that I failed to see what she was up to.’

‘Ungrateful, foolish girl,’ Cassandra retorted, seething, mentally berating her sister. ‘I always said her forward behaviour would bring her grief. I knew how she felt about Edward Lampard and I tried talking to her, but where that young man is concerned she will not be reasoned with. Still, I never dreamt she would do something like this.’

‘I truly believed Emma had returned home with you, Cassandra. It wasn’t until one of the maids was tidying her room and came upon a note left on her dressing table that I became aware of what she had done.’ Plunging her hand into her reticule, Lady Monkton produced the note.

Cassandra took it and scanned what was written in her sister’s untidy handwriting. Her mind seized what Emma had done and her blood ran cold. ‘She writes that she is leaving London, that she is running away with Edward Lampard. They are in love and cannot live without each other. They are to be married in Scotland.’ The missive was signed with a flourishing, Emma.

‘But where in Scotland can she have gone?’ Harriet asked.

‘Gretna Green, I would say,’ her cousin answered, ‘that is the first changing post over the border. The marriage of a minor without parental consent is illegal in England, but there is no such barrier in Scotland—and it does seem to be fashionable and romantic for young people to elope to Gretna Green at this time.’

‘That young man must have arranged everything,’ Harriet said. ‘Emma wouldn’t know how. Dear God in heaven, Cassandra! What are we to do? We must get her back before it’s too late—before—before he…’

‘There’s only one thing we can do, Mama. I’ll go and see Captain Lampard. If he knows about this, then he may already be halfway to Scotland in pursuit. My guess is that he doesn’t. Edward wouldn’t want him giving chase. If he decides to go after them, I’ll go with him.’

Her mother was appalled. ‘But—you can’t go calling on a gentleman, Cassandra, and most certainly you cannot go all the way to Scotland. I forbid it.’

‘Mama, this is no time to concern ourselves with such trivial matters. In this case I have no qualms about going against the rules of protocol. Emma’s reputation is at stake so not a word of this must get out, otherwise she will never be able to show her face in society. Please don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Lady Monkton volunteered, trying to rise out of her chair. A pained expression crossed her features and her hand went to her chest. ‘Oh, dear. My dyspepsia’s beginning to trouble me again.’

‘Please don’t worry yourself,’ Cassandra said, her jaw set as she stuffed Emma’s note into her pocket. ‘Stay and take care of Mama. I’ll have a stomach powder and a glass of warm milk sent in.’

Harriet went to her daughter. ‘Cassandra, when you see Captain Lampard, promise me you will watch that temper of yours. I know what you are like when roused.’

‘I can’t help it. I know what these hellraking lordlings can be like and I will not be patronised.’

Hurrying to her room, she quickly put some items of clothing she would need for a long journey—of short duration, she hoped—into a bag and within minutes she was in the carriage and heading for Grosvenor Square.

When Cassandra arrived outside Captain Lampard’s London residence, she hardly noticed the grandeur of the house. Telling Clem to await further instructions, when she was admitted she couldn’t fail to take in the breathtaking splendour.

William wasn’t in the best of tempers and in no mood to be charitable or accommodating when Siddons flung open the door to the huge green-and-gold salon to announce a visitor. It was eight o’clock in the evening and Edward had been expected at the Military Academy at ten o’clock that morning, but the youth had mysteriously disappeared at nine o’clock and had not been seen since. William was at a side table, about to pour himself a calming glass of port when he was interrupted.

‘I beg your pardon, my lord,’ Siddons said, usually stiff and unflappable, but now looking extremely harassed, ‘but this young lady insists on seeing you. I told her she would have to be announced, but she would not wait.’

With narrowed eyes, William looked beyond his butler into the stormy eyes of his uninvited visitor. ‘Thank you, Siddons. It’s all right. Miss Greenwood and I are acquainted, so you can leave us.’

‘His lordship knows why I am here.’

‘I do not recall inviting you.’

‘I always was impetuous,’ Cassandra retorted, striding purposefully past Siddons without taking her eyes off Captain Lampard, the man she considered to be the source of all her family’s woes. His tall frame was clad in impeccably tailored light grey trousers and a white shirt and neckcloth at his throat. She didn’t stop until she was just inches away.

William’s eyes, glittering like hard metal, narrowed even more. At close range he saw the burning, spitting rage that fairly sizzled in her wide, clear eyes. ‘Miss Greenwood,’ he said when Siddons had closed the door, ‘if you are here to collect the donation I promised, you are wasting your time. It was delivered to the institute first thing this morning.’

Thrown off track, Cassandra stared at him in stupefied amazement. ‘Donation?’ She moved a little closer. ‘I did not come here for that. Do you think that’s my only concern? Money?’

His lip curled derisively. ‘What else? If it isn’t money, then what is it that’s got you all fired up and ready to explode?’

‘My sister.’

‘Blast your sister.’

‘My sentiments entirely, Captain Lampard. She is the problem and I am having to deal with the consequences of what she and that conniving, smooth-talking cad of a cousin of yours have done.’

William could hardly believe his ears. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I am here to ask you why you did not heed my warning. Was it too much to ask that you take your cousin in hand and keep him away from my sister?’

Something unpleasant began to uncurl inside William. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Your precious cousin has run away with her. They have eloped—gone to Scotland,’ she informed him coldly, enunciating each word she uttered. ‘More than likely to Gretna Green, where all young romantics flee to get married.’

William faltered. His surprise was genuine. He thought he could not have heard her correctly. ‘Eloped?’ His voice sharpened. ‘Good God! Are you mad?’

‘Mad? No, I am not mad, Captain Lampard. I am furious—as is my mother. She is quite beside herself with worry. Where is your lecherous cousin? Do you know?’

William shook his head. ‘No, I confess I do not, and it is hardly my fault if your sister is too much for you to handle.’ Surprise and fury made him brutal.

‘Why, you conceited, unmitigated boor,’ Cassandra fumed, her anger full bodied and fortifying. ‘If I could stop her doing anything, I wouldn’t be here.’