What she needed was a different strategy. While her lady’s maid, Bridget, went downstairs to fetch her some breakfast, Vanessa looked through her clothes. She wanted to dress splendidly for her two callers, but if Mama saw her well-dressed, she would guess at once that Vanessa intended to defy her. That meant Vanessa would have to dress the way she would when they weren’t expecting visitors, on an average day at home.
She needed Bridget’s help. Fortunately, the maid would never betray her. Indeed, she’d been Vanessa’s only staunch ally in the Pryde household since Grey had moved out. The other servants feared Mama, but not Bridget, thank goodness. For years, she’d been carrying out Vanessa’s plots to avoid being caught alone with Grey, which was why some of Vanessa’s pin money had always gone to the woman, to supplement what Vanessa knew was a pathetically small income. Mama had never exactly been generous to her staff.
Bridget entered the room, and Vanessa sat her down. “So here’s the most recent occurrence in the ridiculous drama that has become my life lately.”
She told Bridget about her mother’s pronouncements. The maid already knew of Vanessa’s attempts to spark Sheridan’s interest by using Mr. Juncker to make Sheridan jealous. Bridget also knew the pitfalls that had opened up once Vanessa had set her scheme into motion.
“I think I have a plan for how to handle today’s visit from the gentlemen.” Vanessa went on. “It just needs your usual brilliant mind to make sure I haven’t overlooked anything.”
Bridget laughed. “Forgive me, miss, but one of these days your plans will land you in deeper trouble than a scolding from your mother.”
“I know,” she said, clearly taking Bridget by surprise. “I swear, if it works, I will never scheme to do anything like it again.” Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to. Because if it didn’t work . . .
No, she wouldn’t consider that possibility. It would be too awful.
“Very well,” Bridget said, though she looked skeptical. “What are you plotting this time?”
“I want to waylay Sheridan and Mr. Juncker before they even reach the house.”
“How do you know they’ll arrive together?”
“Because Sheridan said he’d bring Mr. Juncker with him. And Sheridan is generally a man of his word.”
“I see.”
“They’ll be intending to enter in the front after disembarking from Sheridan’s carriage. So when the arrival time draws near, I’ll tell the butler that if Mama asks, I’ll be in the back garden. Once out there, I will hurry down the alley to the corner to hail Sheridan’s carriage. Then the three of us can head across the street to the Queen Square Garden and take all the time we want to visit. That will work, won’t it?”
Bridget raised her eyes heavenward. “Only if they do indeed arrive together. And it doesn’t rain. And your mother doesn’t anticipate your defiance of her and look out a window. She hates the cold, so she’s unlikely to go outside herself, but looking is another matter entirely.”
Vanessa tapped her chin. “Perhaps I should tell our butler I’m walking in Queen Square Garden in the first place.”
“That will definitely rouse his suspicions . . . and thus your mother’s.” Bridget headed to the window to gaze out. “How about this? You go into the garden wearing that old coat and large bonnet you use when gardening this time of year. I’ll wait for you in the alley, where you’ll hand me your coat and bonnet. Then you can head out to do the rest of your plan and I’ll wander the garden doing . . . things with the plants.”
Vanessa stifled a laugh. Bridget wasn’t one for the outdoors. “Yes, but what if someone actually comes outside to talk to you, thinking that you’re me? I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”
“And I appreciate that, miss.” Bridget paced in front of the window. “If anyone confronts me, I’ll tell them I don’t know where you are, and that you gave me the coat and bonnet. No one will question that part.”
It was customary for ladies to give their old clothes to their lady’s maids, but still . . . “The butler might. I’ll have to be wearing it when I go down; otherwise, he’ll be reluctant to let me go into the back garden at all without Mama’s permission. So if he then sees you in it—”
“He never goes into the garden. He hates the outdoors almost as much as I do.” Bridget halted. “But you could always give up on seeing them. Will you even want Armitage after having to scheme and plot to get him?”
“I don’t know. You do have a point.” Vanessa sighed. “But I’ve come this far. And if I don’t do something, Mama is going to marry me off to Lisbourne. So I might as well try one more ploy and hope for the best.”
“That Armitage sees the error of his ways and proposes marriage?”
“Or at least sees the error of his ways and courts me in truth.”
Bridget nodded. “Well, if that’s your aim, then my plan is the best.”
“I agree. With any luck, Mama will never even find out what we did.”
Bridget looked serious. “I hope for your sake that she doesn’t.”
So did Vanessa.
The first thing to go wrong was utterly unexpected. Their butler, usually a man who accepted on its face whatever she told him, questioned her about her plan to garden.
“Her Ladyship informed us that you’re not to leave the house,” he said firmly.
“I’m not leaving the house. I’m essentially going into the back of it.”
Worry spread over his features. “Are you sure she would look at it that way?”
“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t. Consider how I’m dressed. Wouldn’t I dress better if I were . . . I don’t know . . . sneaking out or something? I certainly wouldn’t wear this awful bonnet to do so. Which reminds me, I need the coat I usually wear when gardening.”
He looked a bit more accepting of the tale. “But why would you want to putter about in the garden in this weather, miss?”
“Gardens don’t prune themselves, you know. And if we aren’t ‘at home’ to anyone today, I might as well ‘putter about’ in the garden.”
Good Lord, was she to be a prisoner in her home from now on?
Her agitation must have shown in her face, for he bowed. “Of course.” He flicked his hand to the footman to fetch her coat, then helped her into it.
Still, she didn’t so much as breathe until she was outside. So far so good. Rapidly she gave Bridget her coat and bonnet, then took the bonnet and shawl Bridget offered in exchange. With a whispered “Good luck, miss,” Bridget headed back into the garden. And Vanessa headed for the top of the alley where she could watch for Sheridan’s carriage.
That’s when she hit the next snag in her plan—one that was a bit more significant. Because no carriage came past her, even though she was careful to look in either direction.
Then she spotted him. Not Sheridan. Oh, no. Mr. Juncker. Walking from the other direction. Alone. Tears stung her eyes, which she ruthlessly wiped away. She couldn’t keep hoping like this. Every time she did, her hopes were dashed.
But Mr. Juncker had come all this way, so she might as well be polite. She walked up the sidewalk toward him, hugging the railing of the house and hoping no one inside was looking out at that moment. When Mr. Juncker saw her and started, she held her finger to her lips, then gestured across the street. With a sly smile, he took a detour into Queen Square Garden, where she joined him.