The Belle Dames Club by Melinda Hammond Page B

not.’ She pulled one hand free from her muff, her fingers gripping a small silver pistol. ‘You will give me the letters. Do not laugh at me: I will not allow you to coerce me.’
    He looked down at the pistol in her hand.
    ‘What do you propose to do?’
    ‘I will shoot you if you do not give me the letters. I am quite serious, my lord.’
    ‘Then we have reached an impasse, for I do not have them.’
    ‘You lie!’
    He spread his hands.
    ‘I mean they are not in this house. They are safely locked in a bank vault, my dear.’ Again that hateful smile. ‘So, shoot meif you must, Helen, but it will not get you the letters. Are you sure you will not sit down?’
    Helen was not listening.
    ‘You must have them. I could shoot you and search the house.’
    Lord Ullenwood looked apologetic.
    ‘Ah – there is the little matter of my servants. I do not think they would allow you to do that.’
    Her shoulders drooped: she gave a sigh and replaced the pistol inside her muff.
    ‘Oh do what you will! I was a widow when I wrote to you: it may cause a scandal for a week, but I have endured worse.’
    She went to the door.
    ‘And what of the children?’ She stopped. ‘Your stepchildren, madam. How do you think they will like having the family name bandied about the clubs? Your letters were very detailed, my love. And these young people, they are not so broad-minded as we were in our day, eh?’
    She turned towards him, the colour draining from her cheeks.
    ‘You would not.’
    He stared at her, and she felt as if his eyes bored right through the heavy veil.
    ‘Oh, I would,’ he said softly.
    ‘To publish those letters would be the actions of a scoundrel.’
    ‘No, no, you wrong me: it would be the actions of a man very much in love.’
    ‘Fustian! This is no way to gain my regard.’
    ‘Perhaps not, but if it is the only way I can have you—’
    Lady Wyckenham regarded him for a moment. She said quietly, ‘Very well. What must I do to have you return my letters?’
     
    In the darkness of Lady’s Gaunt’s carriage, Clarissa wondered if she should tell Dorothea of her worries. Mama-Nell had toldher it was nothing: perhaps she should believe her. Clarissa decided to keep her own counsel, at least for the present.
     
    They collected Lady Sarah from Dover Street and arrived at Norwell House some thirty minutes before ten o’clock. A nervous lady’s maid admitted them to the house and Julia informed them that she had sent the other servants to the servants wing.
    ‘I let it be known I have the headache and need silence – they have all retired for the present: Barnabus and his mama and sister will not be returning until midnight.’
    ‘Well we shall be done by then, my dear, so you need not look so anxious.’ Lady Gaunt put down the large portmanteau she had brought in and took off her cloak. ‘Send your maid away, Julia, and let us prepare.’
     
    The clock in the stable tower struck ten and the ladies were gathered in one of the upstairs rooms at the front of the house. As the last chime died away there could be heard the clip-clop of hoofs on the drive. Lady Gaunt nodded.
    ‘Show yourself, Julia. We must make sure Sir Howard knows you are here.’
    Obediently Julia picked up a branched candlestick and moved towards the window.
    ‘It is he,’ she gasped, her voice scarcely above a whisper.
    ‘Good,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘Can you manage a smile, and perhaps a wave?’
    Julia leaned forward, then jumped back with a little cry.
    ‘Oh – he has seen me!’
    Clarissa heard Dorothea suppress a sigh of irritation.
    ‘Well, that is just what we want, my dear. You may relax now, Julia. You have done your part. Now I must play my role as your maid.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    Dismounting on the drive of Norwell House, Sir Howard looked about him in some surprise. By the light of the flaring torches burning on either side of the door he could see the grounds were deserted. He looked up as the door was opened by a