Bound To Bea

Chapter Thirty Eight

She decided, as she crossed the front porch to the carriage, that if she got too cold in the carriage, she would stop by and pay an old acquaintance a visit. It was poor manners to visit anyone unannounced, but she didn't care—and hoped her host wouldn't as well.

Taking the hand offered to her by the footman, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of alcohol as she climbed into the carriage and turned fully to the footman.

"Have you been drinking?" She frowned.

Fear and guilt flashed in his eyes as he shook his head violently.

"You smell like it," she noted.

"Only a glass, my lady," he said, and she thought the last two words sounded a little slurred.

"Perhaps someone else must drive me to my destination." Her frown deepened as she made to climb down the carriage.

"Oh no, my lady!" He stepped forward, blocking her path. "My Lord already took the other two footmen with him to London."

"Then how am I supposed to get to where I'm going?"

"I'll take you."

"Not like that, you won't!"

"I swear on my mother's grave I'm sober. I've had a cup or two, but I swear I'm not drunk. Please, my lady!"

Catherine was not convinced, for he reeked of alcohol. She turned from him to the massive gray building before her, where Beatrice lay trapped in one of those chambers. There was no doubt in her mind that if she spent another second confined within those walls, she would be scrambling for the country in less than an hour. And she couldn't let that happen.

"Very well." Gathering her skirt and shoving it fully into the carriage, she leaned back against the cushion. "Drive slowly."

*

One more day, Beatrice mused, visibly sickened by Noah's absence. One more day and she would have him here with her again. One more day, and she wouldn't be forced to remain confined in her room like a prisoner to escape Catherine's unpleasant presence.

It wasn't fair that Beatrice was forced to resort to hiding from her mother-in-law, but she found confinement to be the only suitable form of escape from Catherine, who was obviously determined to frustrate Beatrice throughout her stay in Camden.

She placed the book she had been reading to pass the time in Noah's absence aside and rose to her feet, hungry. Crossing the room to her bedside, she pulled the bellpull, informing the maids she was ready for her dinner to be brought up to her room. She wondered what they were having for dinner, for while she had prepared a menu earlier, there was no doubt in her mind Catherine had changed the menu again.

The maid arrived at her room several minutes later with two covered platters, placing them on the table in the center of the room. Beatrice settled on a seat as the maid opened the platter.

She gasped.

"Are you alright, my lady?" The maid hurried to her side.

Beatrice shook her head. "It's just... Well, who prepared this menu?"

"You did, my lady." The maid's words confirmed what Beatrice already knew, stunning her to silence for several seconds. "Perhaps you might like something else?"

She shook her head once more. "And The dowager Lady Camden? She agrees with the menu?"

"I'm uncertain, my lady. She's been away all afternoon."

Beatrice turned from the platter of roasted turkey and potatoes to the maid. "Away?"

She bobbed her head, a lock of gold coming loose of the bond behind her head. "Yes, my lady."

"And has she returned?"

"No, my lady."

Beatrice frowned. Catherine's absence explained the menu, but it certainly did not explain where it was she went and why she wasn't back yet.

A sense of unease washed over Beatrice. "Do you know where she went? Did she say when she would be back?"

"Only that she was going for a ride, my lady."

"It's snowing, certainly no weather for a drive," she remarked. Unless, of course, Catherine meant to get away from her for a while. The feeling of dislike was certainly mutual.

"She insisted, my lady."

"Of course she did." Beatrice knew the maids would never have convinced Catherine to give up her excursion in the snow—not even Beatrice would have convinced her otherwise.

Sighing, she nodded. "Very well, you're dismissed."

She finished her dinner in silence and rang for the maid when it was time to get ready for bed.

"Has Lady Camden returned?" she asked, as the maid pulled her hair into a French braid behind.

"No, my lady," she said, and Beatrice stiffened.

"It's been hours. Surely she understands the indecency of her actions! Perhaps she has returned and you are unaware."

"No, my lady. She has neither returned, nor has Joseph, the footman who drove the carriage. And surely my lady would have sent for her dinner upon her return."

Rising to her feet then, Beatrice turned fully to the maid. "Perhaps something has gone wrong, do you think?" she asked, her heart sinking.

"Perhaps. But we must hope for the best."

Shaking her head, Beatrice pulled off her nightdress. She hurried over to the bed, where her evening dress laid on the edge. Picking it up, she carried it with her to the maid. "Here, help me get ready. I must go in search of them."

*

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