Charlotte turned a bit farther. Lady Isabella sat beside her, dressed for traveling. “What… what is happening?”
“We are going into the country, at the height of the Season,” Lady Isabella replied petulantly. “And it is all your fault.”
Charlotte reviewed the words twice, but they still made no sense.
“And I had to pay for a post chaise. Do you have any idea how much that costs?”
She knew the answer to this. “No.”
“Stupid girl,” said Lady Isabella again.
Charlotte tried to straighten on the seat and discovered that her wrists were bound together with many loops of twine. She held them up before her, astonished.
“It’s no use screaming. We told the driver and postboys that you’re mad and have to be restrained or you will hurt yourself. And that you might be quite noisy when you woke.” Lady Isabella said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She must be dreaming, Charlotte concluded. “This is a nightmare.”
She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Lady Isabella sniffed. “The nightmare is that idiot St. Cyr mewling to me about your snooping and how he was going to have to reveal that I provided some of the things Henry bought or his reputation would be ruined. Reputation! He’s nothing but a jumped-up tradesman. What sort of reputation can he have?”
“You provided…?” Her mind still refused to work properly. “Why would you…?”
“For a portion of the price, of course. You really are wretchedly stupid.”
None of this seemed real. “But where did you find ancient Roman…?”
Lady Isabella gave a ladylike snort. “Ancient! I had them made by an acquaintance of Edward’s. Not all young artists find poverty to their taste, you know. Henry was such a fool; it worked perfectly. And if you had not brought in that museum… person, we might have sold them all over again. But you haven’t the least spark of enterprise, have you? And then what must you do but force your way into my house and see… It is no one’s fault but your own that I had to remove you.”
“Remove…?” Charlotte stared at her bound hands. “I will be missed. Someone… people will come after me.”
“I sent a note to your house saying we had a notion to visit the country,” was the smug reply.
“Visit…? Without any luggage or…? Are you insane?” Charlotte leaned toward the window. “Help!”
The dour servant reached across and grasped her upper arm so hard it made her gasp. “We should give her more of the laudanum, ma’am.”
“Yes, yes, very well. This is so tedious.”
Martha had a grip of iron. Charlotte fought her, but she was still dizzy and weak. In the end, she was held immobilized, her nostrils pinched shut until she was forced to open her mouth. Lady Isabella tipped a small bottle into it with scant regard for dosage, and Martha clamped an arm around her jaw until she swallowed.
“There.” Lady Isabella replaced the cork and tucked the bottle into her reticule. “Neatly done. Martha took care of my mother, you know.” She spoke conversationally, as if Charlotte might be interested in this information.
***
Time dropped away. Charlotte barely woke when they stopped for the night at an inn. The next time she was really conscious, they were driving again. Her mouth was dry as dust, and the headache was excruciating. “Where are we going?” she managed to croak.
“My country place,” Lady Isabella replied. “What people will think of me—leaving town in June—I do not know. But you are as inconsiderate as the rest. No one thinks of me.”
Charlotte struggled to gather her wits, to remember the conversation the last time she was conscious. “You sold all your furniture to… that dealer?” She couldn’t recall the man’s name at the moment.
“Not all at once. Or all to him.” She seemed to find it a tiresome question. “And St. Cyr gave me much less than it was worth!”
“But… why?”
Lady Isabella glared at her. “It costs the earth to live decently in London. Clothes, servants, a box at the opera, a carriage and horses. Well, I am reduced to a hired coach now, of course. Edward must have an allowance out of the revenues from the estate; he has a position to keep up. Only think how humiliating for both of us if he could not have a fine string of hunters or a good address for his rooms?”
“Edward was involved…?”
“As if he would be so helpful! No, it is always left to me to find a way to