Free My Lord Murderer by Elizabeth Mansfield Page A

myself.” And he stood up again, a gleam of hope that he could escape from the whole affair brightening his eyes.
    Hetty scurried up to him, the top of her curly head as high as his shoulder, and pushed him back into his chair. “Not until I have your word that you will bring Drew to Stonehaven by the end of the month!” she said stubbornly.
    “Even if I were to agree, I don’t see how I’m to manage it,” he objected.
    “I’ve told you how. You are to invite him to your shooting lodge in Melbourn. There you will become queasy and dispeptic, and suddenly it will occur to you that Selby and I are in residence at the manor, a mere two hour ride. You will suggest to Drew that you will get some proper care chez nous !”
    “I don’t see why you can’t invite Drew yourself. It would be so much simpler.”
    “I can’t very well assure Gwen Rowle that he won’t be there if I’ve already invited him! Do you want me to lie ?” Hetty asked with perfect sincerity.
    “Your scruples are beyond me,” sighed the put-upon Mr. Farr. “You’re expecting me to lie to Drew , aren’t you?”
    “Yes, but if you do this my way, both Gwen and Drew will believe his arrival to be accidental. Only you and I will know…”
    “And Selby, of course.”
    Hetty stamped her foot. “Dash it, Wys, leave Selby out of this! He’s completely incapable of any sort of dissembling. He would stammer and cough and act uncomfortable. Believe me, the less he knows, the better our chances.”
    “I’m not particularly good at dissembling either, you know. Perhaps you ought to find another way to get Drew to Stonehaven,” Wys suggested, still hoping to find a way out of this fix.
    “You are not going to refuse me!” cried Hetty desperately. “You are my only hope!” She dropped down on her knees beside his chair and grasped his hand. “Please, Wys, please! You say Drew is your closest friend. You want to see him happy, don’t you? You want his name cleared, don’t you? You can’t turn your back on him now!”
    Wys looked down at the pert little face turned up to his. Her eyes were filling with tears. Selby and Drew had often laughed at Hetty’s talent for making her eyes water at will, but Wys could not keep himself from being affected. Having been deprived of a mother at an early age, he was inexperienced in dealing with women. The least sign of tender emotions on a woman’s face rendered him helpless and miserable. “Don’t cry, Hetty, I beg you,” he urged unhappily. “I’ll do as you ask, I promise, but do get up, and don’t cry!”
    Hetty jumped to her feet, smiled at him sunnily and clapped her hands. “Dear, dear Wys! It will all work out beautifully, I know it will!”
    An hour later, Hetty—wearing a high-crowned bonnet adorned with enormous, sweeping ostrich feathers dyed a bright shade of green—was ushered into Gwen’s drawing room. Gwen, entering behind her, was quite unprepared for the sight. She gaped at the bonnet in some dismay. “Good heaven, Hetty, what a hat!”
    “Don’t you like it?” Hetty asked in consternation. “I paid a fortune for it, I can tell you. I’ve been afraid to show Selby the bill.”
    “Oh, it’s quite magnificent. In fact, it’s … it’s as tall as you are!”
    “Oh, dear,” said Hetty, turning to the mirror over the mantelpiece and staring at herself critically, “I was afraid it would be too overpowering. I said those very words to the milliner, but she assured me I could carry it off.”
    “And so you can,” Gwen said, smiling at her fondly. “It makes you look quite imposing.”
    Hetty looked at her friend dubiously. “Do you really think so? Well, I shan’t trouble myself about it, since I’ll be leaving town before having an opportunity to wear it again.”
    “Leaving town?” Gwen asked.
    “Yes. Selby must go to Suffolk to see about the estates, and he insists that I accompany him. It’s such a bore. Night after night with no company but a few Suffolk