06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection) (9 page)

There was a moment’s silence before Lord Corbury said in his normal voice with a hint of laughter in it,

 “Anything? “

Her eyes flickered for a moment and there was a little smile on her red lips.

“Anything within — reason,” she replied softly.

Lord Corbury pulled the black handkerchief down from his chin. He too was smiling as he bent towards the red mouth which was only a few inches away from him.

She made no effort to evade what was obviously inevitable. In fact she leant forward and as Lord Corbury’s lips held hers captive her hand crept round his neck to hold him closer still.

It was a long kiss, a passionate one, and Fenella watching suddenly felt a sharp pain as if a dagger had been stabbed into her body.

Her pistol was pointing at the coachman, but she could not take her eyes from the couple locked together in a close embrace just inside the carriage.

They were only a few feet away from her, and she had never in her life known such agony as it was to watch Periquine kissing another woman.

She had heard him making love to Hetty, she had known what they were doing when every afternoon they disappeared into the arbour, but thinking about it was not the same as actually seeing it taking place in front of her.

She knew in that moment she would give up her hope of Heaven if only Periquine would kiss her in such a manner.

The bend of his head, the manner in which his arm had gone round the woman he was kissing, and the way she could see their lips moving passionately against each other’s was somehow beyond all her imaginings.

She felt as if she could not breathe, and the pain in her body seemed to increase every second that passed. It was as if time had stood still and she had watched Periquine kiss this stranger for hours, before finally they drew apart from each other.

“You are very sweet,” Lord Corbury said and his voice was hoarse.

“And you are very — persuasive for a — Highwayman.”

They were looking at each other and Lord Corbury was obviously making no effort to leave, when Fenella looking down the road saw in the distance a vehicle approaching.

“There is someone coming,” she said sharply.

It seemed to her that her voice was unnaturally loud so that it rang out like a clarion.

As if it recalled Lord Corbury to a realisation of his somewhat precarious position, he stepped back from the coach and shut the door.

“Goodbye, fair Charmer,” he said, “perhaps one day we shall meet again.”

“I hope so — I very much hope so,” the Lady replied softly.

Fenella lowered her pistol.

“Drive on,” she said hoping that now her voice sounded gruff and masculine.

But even if it did not she was certain the men on the box were too worried and bewildered to think of anything but their own plight.

Nervously, as if he could hardly believe that nothing worse was going to happen to him, the young footman lowered his arms. The coachman jerked on his reins, the wheels started to turn and the coach moved off.

The Lady inside bent forward, her eyes on Lord Corbury, and she waved until they could no longer see her.

As if she could not bear to watch the coach any longer, Fenella spurred her horse and rode back into the wood.

 Here she pulled off her mask, untied the black handkerchief from round her neck and stuffed it into her pocket. She had just finished when Lord Corbury joined her.

He was holding the purse in his hand and as he drew his horse to a standstill he jingled it and remarked ironically,

 “It does not seem over-heavy.”

“Do you know who that was?” Fenella asked, and her tone was terse because she was angry.

“No, who was it?” Lord Corbury asked eagerly.

“That is old Squire Enslow,” Fenella replied. “He is enormously wealthy, and I imagine that is his fourth wife, whom he married about three years ago. I can assure you, if the County gossip is to be believed, that her emeralds are by no means all she possesses. They say she leads the Squire by the nose and has extorted more out of him than all his other three wives put together.”

Lord Corbury laughed.

“Then she deserves every penny of it! A pretty wench like that tied to an old dodderer is a crime against nature.”

“You were supposed to be a Highwayman,” Fenella said and thought to herself that her voice sounded peevish.

“I think it would definitely be worthwhile to pursue the acquaintance of Mrs. Enslow,” Lord Corbury said as if speaking to himself. “I wonder how we can persuade her to visit the Priory.”

“And put your head in a noose?” Fenella asked. “Do you think that if she recognises you, which she will undoubtedly do if you meet again, she will keep such an amusing tale to herself?”

Lord Corbury did not speak and Fenella continued.

“The noble owner of the Priory masquerading as a Highwayman and robbing travellers would be a scandal which would involve serious repercussions on your social standing, if nothing worse.”

Lord Corbury sighed.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “All the same, she was a pretty piece.”

“And her emeralds which you bartered for a kiss are worth thousands,” Fenella snapped.

Lord Corbury was not listening to her. He was turning the contents of the purse out into his open palm.

“Ten - no, eleven sovereigns,” he said.

He looked up and saw the expression on Fenella’s face.

“Not worth the risk,” he said quietly.

“Undoubtedly not!” Fenella replied.

He looked at her for a moment, then he pulled off his mask and threw it away into the bushes.

“You are right, Fenella, you are always right,” he said, “but it was rather fun all the same. Come on, let us go home.”

He put out his hand as he spoke, and after a moment’s hesitation she put hers in it.

He squeezed her fingers.

“You are not angry with me?”

There was a beguiling note in his voice which she could not resist.

“No, Periquine,” she answered.

But as they rode back towards the Priory Fenella told herself that, while she was not angry, the sight of Periquine kissing another woman had made her acknowledge a truth which she had been trying to evade for the last week.

The truth was that she loved him, not as a child, not with the close cousinly love which had been theirs ever since she could remember, but as a woman loves a man.

She loved him, she loved him! She loved everything about him, except of course the fact that he was not in love with her.

They rode swiftly because, now the adventure was over, Lord Corbury was in a hurry to get home.

The sound of their horses’ hoofs galloping over the fields seemed to fall into a certain rhythm which Fenella could not escape.

“ I love him — I love him — I love him  —”

The words repeated themselves over and over in her mind, but she knew there was nothing different in her heart from what had always been there.

She had loved him as a child and she had counted the hours until he returned from school.

She had loved him when she had agonised over him night after night during the war, and she had loved him from the moment she had heard his voice in the Salon making love to Hetty Baldwyn while she was hidden in the Priest’s Hole.

‘I suppose that being with a man who is so handsome, so attractive, so adorable in every way,’ she told herself, ‘it was inevitable that I should fall hopelessly in love with him.’

But for Periquine it was very different. There was a whole world of beautiful women for him to choose from.

While Hetty might be too spoilt to contemplate marriage where there was not enough money, she was at least prepared to hold him captive with her beauty and in addition to allow him liberties which Fenella suspected she would not grant to her other suitors. But then who was likely to resist Periquine?

She looked at him riding beside her. He was far the best looking man she had ever seen. And even in his old clothes he had an elegance that was unmistakable. Perhaps the right word - was “a presence” which other men of his age did not have.

He turned to smile at her and she felt her heart turn over in her breast.

“You look a ragamuffin in those clothes,” he said. “You had best let me take your horse round to the stables while you change. I cannot think what the grooms would say if they saw you.”

“I expect they would merely remark that Master Periquine had been up to his tricks again,” Fenella said.

“Put up to them no doubt by Miss Fenella!” Lord Con bury finished.

And they were both laughing as they reached the door of the Priory.

Three days later Sir Nicolas Waringham walked in through the front door of the Priory without troubling to ring the bell.

By this time he had learnt it was broken and even if it had not been, it was doubtful if anyone would have answered it.

He put his hat and gloves down on the Hall-table and then started a systematic search of the rooms. He found them all empty, until delving into the kitchen quarters he discovered Fenella in what was known as ‘the laundry’ ironing a number of cravats on a deal table.

She looked up as she heard his footsteps on the flagged floor and exclaimed,

 “Sir Nicolas, you are very early !”

“Hetty has gone shopping in Brighton,” he answered, and I suspicioned that Corbury would be out riding.”

“He has gone to look at his farms which are being repaired,” Fenella answered. “Do you want to see him?”

“ I do not,” Sir Nicolas replied, “ I want to talk to you.”

Fenella was not surprised. She had realised that during Sir Nicolas’s visits over the past days regarding his Family Tree, they had ranged over a number of other subjects, and she would not have been feminine had she been unaware that he was intrigued by her.

She knew it was because she was so different from any other female that he had met in the past.

For one thing she was not ‘setting her cap at him’ and she treated him easily and without formality. She made no particular effort to entertain him, nor did she appear awestruck by his condescension.

Actually Fenella had found Sir Nicolas surprisingly interesting.

She learnt that he had done an amazing amount of intricate and quite enthralling research on his own family tree and also on those of a number of other noble families.

What was more, he was well read and well informed, and as she had guessed on their first acquaintance he was far more perceptive about other people than he appeared at first acquaintance.

She had begun to believe that his stiffness and pomposity was a kind of armour with which he girded himself against the world.

She anticipated that one day she would learn the secret as to why he behaved in such a manner and why at times he seemed determined to antagonise other people by asserting his superiority.

There was however no pretence about him at the moment. He sat on the edge of the large table and watched Fenella goffering the frill of Lord Corbury’s cravat.

“May I enquire if there is no-one else to do that for you?” he enquired.

“Of course there is not,” Fenella replied, “not with a dinner-party planned for this evening, and old Barnes hurrying round like a scatty hen forgetting where he has put the knives and forks!”

She fetched another iron from the fire and said,

 “That Hetty should wish to dine here has caused us an inordinate amount of trouble. Whose idea was it anyway? “

“Mine, as a matter of fact.”

“Yours!” Fenella exclaimed. “But why? Why should you want to have a bad dinner at the Priory when you could be entertained royally at the Hall?”

“I wanted to see you,” he answered.

“To see me!” Fenella echoed, and then she began to laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” he enquired. “I planned it very carefully. Hetty is to be chaperoned by her brother and you and Corbury will make us five. Not an ideal number, but I cannot see any point in inviting an outsider.”

Fenella was still laughing.

“So it was your idea! Well, Sir Nicolas, you are in for a surprise.”

“Why?” he enquired.

“Because,” Fenella answered, “although I shall be here you will not see me.”

He stared at her, realising this was some kind of puzzle to which he should find an answer.

“I must be very obtuse,” he said after a moment.

“I suppose I shall have to tell you,” Fenella said, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “so let me ask you another question. Who, Sir Nicolas, did you think is going to cook the dinner?”

Her words made him start and he said almost incredulously “You do not mean, that you —”

“Of course,” Fenella answered. “Who else is there?”

She laughed again and then said as if she was speaking to a small child,

 “The trouble with you, Sir Nicolas, is you do not understand the problems of ordinary people. You are so wealthy you have no idea that everything, and especially servants, cost money. As you should have realised by now, the only people in the house are old Barnes who is well over seventy and Mrs. Buckle who does her best but cannot possible cope with this big house or for that matter with Periquine’s appetite!”

“But surely Corbury is not as impoverished as all that?” Sir Nicolas ejaculated.

“I should have thought you would have realised by now that Periquine does not wish to have the house falling about his ears, that he would prefer to have a Butler and footmen in the hall to let you in when you arrive, and he does not enjoy seeing the curtains full of holes and carpets so threadbare one catches one’s foot in them.”

Fenella spoke almost crossly.

She felt she could understand why Periquine resented Sir Nicolas with his enormous wealth and that when he was at the Priory, although he might not intend it, he made everything look shabbier and more threadbare.

There was a moment’s pause and then Sir Nicolas said,

 “I am sorry, Fenella, I did not think.”

“That is just the trouble,” Fenella replied. “It is not a case of the rich not caring, they just do not visualise the problems that other people have to face.”

Sir Nicolas was silent for a moment and then he said,