"You are Miss Heal of Lace Emmington Hall, and so you will remain, until I choose differently." Her mother's strident voice, caustic tone and inflexible statement would ring in her mind forever, Lacey Heal thought. Through all the years to come her mother's voice would echo, denying her freedom, forbidding her love, and rejecting her choices. But her mother was wrong, and Lacey was engaged in proving it. Though she had always been obedient Lacey was not weak. Though she had always been biddable, Lacy was not spiritless. And now that she loved, truly, deeply and irrevocably, Lacey would not remain 'Miss Heal'. She hurried through the dark, chill streets of Loughborough wrapping her plum velvet cloak more closely about her, assuring its hood shadowed her face and covered her fair hair with anonymity. She knew every street in the town for Lace Emmington Hall lay only three miles to its south-west; she had grown up with the town, its inhabitants, and its limited amenities. Thank heavens it had never occurred to her mother that Lacey would dare to challenge her strictures. Her over-confidence had led her to allow Lacey to attend at an assembly at the Dove Inn in company with family friends. Thank goodness her mother had never thought that Lacey had a mind and a will of her own. It would take Mrs. Heal some little time to realize that Lacey had left the friends and the assembly and alone escaped her governance once and for all time. It would require Mrs. Heal a good deal more thought before she would believe that Lacey had ignored her mother's wishes and undertaken to follow her own heart. Lacey had a few hours, that was all, and that hopefully would be all that she needed. She halted on a spotless white-stoned step before a strapped and studded door. Mr. Grayrigg's landlady was nothing if not conscientious; her property might be old but it was impeccably maintained. She wielded the brass knocker without hesitation. The porter who kept the door for the six comfortable suites of chambers that Mrs. Wilby let was quick to answer. Mrs. Wilby would not have employed him had he been at all dilatory. "Miss Heal!" he exclaimed, his wizened face alight with respect and curiosity. "Please do hush," Lacey said. "And do let me in--I must see Mr. Grayrigg." "But...but...it ain't proper, miss." "I cannot care for that just now. Where is Mr. Grayrigg's chamber?" Lacey understood the waving hands of the speechless servant. "Upstairs and to the right?" She took one of those chilblained members in her gloved hands and pressed a guinea in the palm. "If you can forget that you have seen me, I shall be in your debt." She left the open-mouthed servant behind her, and whisked like a slender ghost along the corridor at the top of the stairs. It was dark, but the tips of her fingers guided her along the passage, and a strip of light beneath a door announced her destination. She rapped softly on the old wood. Within a moment, the door was opened. "Lacey!" Simon Grayrigg's astonishment was writ large on his face. Lacey slipped under his arm and into the chamber. The gentleman cast a look up and down the corridor, and closing the door, turned his key in the lock. Lacey flew into his strong arms, her hood and her careful knot of bright hair slipping to her shoulders. For a moment she was beset by doubt. What if Simon would not acquiesce to her plans, agree to her decisions? His was such a firm character, such a steadfast spirit; Simon could not be led or driven. He would only do what he judged to be right and just and ethical. It was what made him the most valued barrister in Loughborough and what made his move to Nottingham possible and ensured his success. She nestled closer, and his arms tightened reassuringly. She listened to the steady beat of his heart, and savoured the scent of his fine wool coat, the tobacco of his occasional pipe, and the subtle spice of his shaving soap. Finally, he held her a little away. "This is all well and good, Lacey, but what are you doing here? We said our good-byes, made our plans. What has happened? "Nothing...everything..." she faltered. She glanced around, hesitating to speak her heart's desire. "Your rooms are very nice, as pleasant as you told me." "Yes, they look very nice now that all my possessions are already gone to Nottingham! Lacey, I am to follow them in just a few hours. Why have you come?" She stared into his dear face. It was a strong face with a slightly crooked nose, determined chin, and golden-brown eyes with absurdly long lashes. "I want to leave with you!" she blurted. She easily read the concern and consideration in his face. He was in an instant contemplating solutions, weighing options. "Tell me." He drew her to a settle by the fire which, as it alone remained in the bare, square chamber, must belong to his landlady. "Mama, without any word or hint to set her off, as much as declared this noontide that she would never allow me to wed. And she meant it...oh, Simon, she did mean it. I know we said we would wait--you would work, acquire a house, a reputation--but it will not signify. One year or five years, she will not be impressed; she will not let me make my own choice. I think if a duke offered for me, she would put some obstacle in the way." She knew that Simon would not make a decision without careful thought. She was confident he would not dismiss her fears, or chastize her for impropriety. He was silent, but had taken her hand in his, smoothing away her glove, lacing her fingers with his as he stared into the fire. She waited patiently. "How did you come?" he asked suddenly. "How could you escape?" "From the assembly. I attended in company with the Packhams'--you know how Mama trusts them--but Mrs. Packham was taken ill, and they returned home. I was to be driven home--Mr. Packham arranged it all--by Mr. Blisworth and his sister at the end of the evening. I slipped away and here I am." "Well and truly compromised, does anyone find out." His long fingers tightened on hers. "As if I care," she said. "Simon, we have known each other three years, loved each other for two. Mama will not entertain your suit, Papa as always yields to her decision. I know you would wish to be honourable and estimable, but I am not prepared to waste my youth waiting for Mama to relent. I think she will not. If we marry without her knowledge, she can do nothing." "We discarded elopement as an option a year ago." "I know but things have changed. I have realized Mama's inflexibility, and I am not seeking a havey-cavey scurry to Gretna. I thought perhaps a special license--somehow--" "You know that, above all things, I wish for you to be my wife. Perhaps you are right; we should seize the moment you have created. God knows I have thought often enough of spiriting you away and wedding you out of hand." "You have? You have not said so..." "I wished not to sully your reputation, your honour..." "Stuff and nonsense!" A thought struck Lacey. "But what of your reputation? Will this be ill for you? I would not harm your career." "Stuff my career," he replied with a grin. "I could work at anything, did I have you to wife. But it will not be necessary. I have a great-aunt in Leicester; I think I have mentioned her to you? I shall take you to her, and set about procuring a special license. We may be wed from her home, and what could be more natural than my wife joining me in Nottingham, after I have settled our worldly goods into our new accommodation." "Oh, Simon, it is quite, quite perfect. Mama shall not be able to find me?" "I shall be in Nottingham as all the world knows I intended to be tomorrow. I told Mrs. Wilby I should be leaving very early so she expects no farewells. You shall be safely hidden in Leicester until the wedding takes place. What can Mrs. Heal do?" "She will make a great fuss when she learns of it," Lacey worried. "She is welcome to do so. But you know, it makes her appear very ill indeed, that her daughter could not be free to accept a reasonable, if not a brilliant match." "That is true! There is no one but Mama who thinks you an unacceptable parti." "So rather than sleep this night, we shall ride for Leicester. I'll go now and hire a mount for you. We should arrive with the dawn, you shall be deposited with my aunt, and I will make for Nottingham and be there only a little later than I originally intended. Can you ride in that cloak and gown?" "I can indeed." Lacey rose, anxious to be off. A sudden thought stayed her. "Simon, I have not forced your hand, have I? You will not regret this?" "Never in my life. It is of all things what I most wish--that you should be my wife. You shall prevent me from becoming staid and stuffy...a dry old man of law for the rest of my days." He rose and drew her into his arms. She saw all the reassurance, all the love and all the passion she would ever need, in his tawny eyes. He bent his head to kiss her and she gave herself over to the pleasure. His kisses were as numerous as they were exciting. "I must go and hire that horse, before we are well and truly compromised and travel no further than my bedchamber with its bare bed. I shall be back in a trice." He spoke as he shrugged into his great coat. Lacey, breathless with joy and passion, prepared to wait curled in a corner of the settle by the fire. He paused at the door, one strong hand on the handle. "Thank you for trusting your life and your happiness to me, my love." He pulled on his low-crowned beaver hat, and blew her a kiss. "We must plan an adventure such as this every five or so years. It will keep us young and carefree, my darling runaway." Lacey returned his airy kiss. "Hurry back!" she urged, confident that she had done the right thing. |
The Runaway by Lesley-Anne McLeod www.lesleyannemcleod.homestead.com |
