An Unusual Bequest (20 page)
Read An Unusual Bequest Online
Authors: Mary Nichols
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
‘The weather is calmer today,’ he commented.
‘Yes. Do you think it will happen tonight?’ She found herself whispering, though she did not know why, there was no one close enough to hear.
‘No, I have my ear to the ground and what I hear indicates some delay. I am not quite sure what it is, perhaps a diversionary tactic to put the revenue men off the scent.’
‘Are they on the scent?’
‘I do not know.’ He shrugged, then suddenly changed the subject. ‘Would you not obtain better and cheaper produce in Ipswich?’
‘Possibly, but I like to support the local people where I can and, in any case, I have no means of going there, unless I borrow the Reverend’s gig and I do not like to ask for it too often. But I shall have to go soon because I need things for the school not obtainable in the village. I heard today that a Mr and Mrs Tyler are interested in sending their daughter to me.’
‘I will be pleased to take you in my chaise. I have an errand there myself.’
‘Oh, I did not…I was not asking…’ She stopped, confused.
‘I know that, but I need to go and so do you, so why not?’ He paused, smiling. ‘I promise not to lecture you.’
The idea was tempting, but as she looked about her and felt the tension in the air, though no one had said a word of anything afoot to her, she felt it would be wrong to leave the children without some supervision, especially if their parents were intent on helping the smugglers. She wished the whole desperate business was over and done with and they could get on with their normal lives. ‘That is obliging of you, my lord, but I cannot leave the children.’
‘I am sure the Reverend will be willing to take your classes for one day and his wife will look after our daughters until we return. What do you say?’
She hesitated. She really did need to go into Ipswich and the idea of being conveyed there in a comfortable chaise was enticing. ‘Could we not take the girls with us? I am sure they would enjoy the outing. And Lizzie needs a new pair of shoes; she complains that the ones she has are pinching her.’
It was not what he had intended at all, but it was better than not taking her at all, and he might observe for himself how she and Julia dealt with one another. ‘It will be a squeeze, the carriage is only meant for four.’
‘But they are all quite small.’
‘Very well. We will go tomorrow.’
‘You do not think anything will happen before then?’
‘No, and certainly not in daylight.’
‘Then I will complete my errands and speak to the Reverend.’
She did not expect him to stay with her, but he accompanied her to old Mrs Warton’s cottage and waited outside while she took the pie to her and then went with her to buy the eggs and chicken. Then he carried her basket to the Rectory, obviously determined to have his own way.
‘Why, of course I will, my lady,’ the Reverend Fuller said when she made her request. He had invited them into the parlour and asked his wife to provide refreshments and all four were sitting enjoying tea and cakes. ‘Do you go to the May Day Ball?’
‘Ball?’ she queried. Balls and social events of any kind had passed her by in the last two years, since old Lord Hobart had needed her constant attention, though when Grenville was alive, they had sometimes gone to balls. It was how they had met: her father had taken her and her mother to a ball in Portsmouth given by the Admiralty. She had been so happy then. But that was in the past, a happy memory. It made her a little sad to think she might never dance again. If she had met Viscount Stacey Darton in the capital at one of society’s many social occasions, how different their relationship might have been! If—
‘Yes.’ The parson interrupted her thoughts, which was just as well for she was off into the realms of fantasy. ‘You collect, they have one every year in the Assembly Rooms.’
‘Yes, I do remember, but I cannot go to a ball, Reverend. I am in mourning for one thing and, for another, we would have to stay overnight.’
He smiled at Stacey, who was sitting next to her on a sofa, balancing a cup and saucer in his big hands and saying nothing. ‘They are all problems that can easily be overcome, my lady. Is that not so, my lord?’
Stacey realised with a little start of surprise that the Reverend was matchmaking and felt himself smiling. ‘If Lady Hobart wishes to attend a ball in Ipswich, then I will be happy to escort her,’ he said. ‘As for staying overnight, I think that can be arranged, if her ladyship’s maid were to come too. I am sure accommodation can be arranged in a hotel for Lady Hobart and the girls and I can stay at another establishment.’
‘And I am sure the late Lord Hobart would not wish you to refuse on his account,’ the Reverend added, deciding that he approved of Viscount Darton. At least he had the wisdom not to suggest staying at the same establishment as her ladyship. ‘He would say, as I do, that you deserve a little respite.’
Charlotte looked from one to the other; both were smiling. ‘This is a conspiracy,’ she said, only half-annoyed, because she knew the old cleric meant well.
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘But you have been working too hard and it is time you had a little leisure. I will see to your pupils tomorrow and the day after that is Saturday and they would not be in school in any case.’
‘But there will no be room in the carriage for Miss Quinn as well as the girls.’
‘I can easily sit beside my driver,’ Stacey said. ‘How many more objections are you going to raise?’
‘None. I accept your kind offer.’
It was only when the arrangements had been made and they were once again on the road and walking towards The Crow’s Nest that it occurred to her that the parson knew about the smugglers and was determined, with the Viscount’s connivance, to send her away from trouble. She was not at all sure she liked being manipulated in that way.
Stacey arrived after breakfast the next morning and the girls, who had been ready and waiting for at least an hour, piled into the carriage that Jem had brought to the door from the stables. Julia and Miss Quinn sat on one side and Fanny, who was the smallest, between Lizzie and Charlotte on the other. They were chattering excitedly, planning what they would buy with the coppers they had to spend. Stacey put Charlotte’s small portmanteau under the driver’s seat along with his own and climbed up beside Jem, who handed him the reins. He liked to drive when the opportunity offered itself and they were soon bowling along the narrow country lanes towards Ipswich.
Fortunately the weather was fine, though still a little blustery, and they made good time, arriving in the town in the early afternoon. Charlotte had been wondering what they would do if Stacey could not find suitable accommodation for them, but she need not have worried—his name and presence, with the added inducement of a handful of gold sovereigns over and above the usual tariff, procured them a suite of two bedrooms and a sitting room at the Great White Horse.
‘Unless you need me, my lady, I will leave you to do your shopping while I go about my business,’ Stacey said, once he had seen them safely to their rooms. ‘I will call back at eight o’clock to escort you to the ball.’
‘That will be convenient, my lord,’ Charlotte said, matching his formality with her own.
‘Ball, Mama?’ Lizzie queried, as soon as he had gone. ‘I did not know you were going to a ball.’
‘It was the Reverend’s idea,’ she said, smiling to reassure her. ‘He thought I had been working too hard and needed a little recreation. He asked Lord Darton if he would escort me and, being the gentleman he is, his lordship could hardly refuse. You do not mind, do you? We shall have all the afternoon and dinner together and this evening Quinny will look after you until I return.’ She looked at Julia as she spoke, watching for her reaction, but her face remained impassive.
‘I am hungry,’ Fanny put in, unaware of any undercurrents in the conversation and accepting her mother’s explanation at face value.
‘Then we shall order refreshments and then go shopping and see the sights. And when the time comes, if you like, you can help me dress.’ Her shopping and the girls would keep her occupied until the time came to get ready for the ball, so she would have no time to worry whether the gown she had brought with her would be suitable, about what Lord Darton would wear and how they would deal together in an atmosphere very different from the one at Parson’s End.
If it were not for the presence of her daughters, she would be feeling like a seventeen-year-old, going to her first grownup outing, which was foolish. Why should the prospect of being escorted by Viscount Stacey Darton fluster her? But it did and she knew why perfectly well.
Stacey went to the stables and was reunited with Ivor. ‘He’s become fat,’ he told the head groom.
‘Beggin’ your pardon, my lord, but there’ve bin none to exercise ’im. The lad did try, but he’s too strong for ’im. Threw ’im off, he did.
‘Was the lad hurt?’
‘No, my lord. Landed on a heap of straw.’
‘I’ll take the horse out as soon as I’ve enjoyed some of the inn’s excellent food,’ he said. ‘So have him saddled and ready in an hour from now.’ He strode into the inn followed by Jem and bespoke a hearty meal, after which he sent Jem to book rooms for them at the Lion and the Lamb and set off for the docks and the Custom House. He did not hurry; Ivor had become unused to exercise and he would have to get him back into peak condition gradually.
He pondered on his errand as he rode, his hands lightly on the reins. Ivor knew who was on his back and whinnied in pleasure at being out of the confining stable. If Gerard was not readily available, he was not sure whether to leave a message; the situation was a ticklish one and he did not want a clumsy force of men to rush in arresting all and sundry; ten to one the real culprits would escape, leaving the villagers to be rounded up and punished. The alternative was to say nothing and let events take their course. It meant Sir Roland and Augustus Spike might escape scot-free, but could they be apprehended the next time?
Would there be a next time? He felt sure there would be; such a neat hiding place as Easterley Manor would not be used just once and abandoned, but the risk to the villagers increased with every run and Charlotte, stuck in The Crow’s Nest in the path of the run, would be in danger. If he had known about the smuggling before he came back, he never would have brought Julia with him and he would have tried to persuade Charlotte to look elsewhere for her school, but it was done now and he must do what he could to prevent anyone being hurt.
The town was not the once great seaport it had been, but it was still a busy place and there were several ships in the docks. One was a brand new vessel and he paused to speak to one of the men working on it. ‘Yes, sir, a fine ship,’ the man agreed. ‘It’s one of the largest of her class, one hundred and fifty-three feet from stem to stern, she is.’ The man was evidently proud of the hand he had had in her construction. ‘Are you a seagoing man, sir?’
‘No, a soldier. I am looking for the Custom House, can you direct me?’
He followed the man’s directions and made his way to the Custom House on the Quay and, to his immense relief, Gerard was there, conferring with a colleague. He greeted Stacey enthusiastically. ‘What happened to you, old friend?’ he demanded after introducing him to Lieutenant Tarrent. ‘You said you would catch me up.’
‘I would have done, but I was prevented.’ Stacey went on to explain what had happened. ‘I have just come from Parson’s End,’ he concluded.
‘She must be prodigious beautiful to attract you back to that dead place.’
‘It is not exactly dead,’ he said, ignoring the jibe and then, appearing to change the subject, added, ‘How goes the free-trading business?’
‘It goes better than it should. The trouble is that the general populace see no harm in it and will not come forward with information and, even if they disapprove, are too afraid of being identified and punished by the rogues.’ He sighed. ‘But we make progress, little by little. According to a reliable informant there is even now a ship crossing from the Continent loaded to the gunnels with contraband, but we don’t know where it intends to land.’
‘I do,’ Stacey said quietly.
‘You do?’ Gerard exclaimed. ‘Out with it, man.’
‘The situation is a little delicate.’
‘It always is. Are you involved?’
‘Certainly not, though I am well in with the principals. My fear is that the innocent will be taken up with the guilty and that would be a pity.’
‘Do you think my men are so ill trained they cannot tell the difference?’
‘They might not. Let me tell you the whole and perhaps we can devise some way of taking up the villains and leaving the misguided to return to their homes and ponder on the lucky escape they have had.’
Gerard and the lieutenant listened to what he had to say, nodded their heads now and then, and, at the end, agreement was reached about how they should proceed. It was six o’clock when Stacey left them to return to the inn to change into evening clothes. What impulse had made him pack an evening suit when he left Malcomby he had no idea, but he was very glad he had. He meant to forget all about smugglers, recalcitrant daughters and make it a night to remember.
L
ong before eight o’clock, Charlotte was in a state of feverish excitement mixed with quaking trepidation. The prospect of a little self-indulgence, dressing up in something other than mourning black and dancing with a handsome man, did battle with her image of herself as a matronly widow for whom such things should be mere memories. She began to wonder if she had been wrong to agree to go to the ball at all, never mind with Viscount Stacey Darton. After all, he had not suggested it, the Reverend Fuller had and, as she had said to the girls, being a gentleman he could not refuse when perhaps he would rather not have offered his escort.
They had quarrelled only two days before and she had climbed on her high horse and berated him for forbidding her to go on to the beach, so why should he continue to bother himself with her? It was unkind and ungrateful of her to treat him as if he had been one of Cecil’s cronies. But was he? Had he seized the chance to remove her and the girls from Parson’s End while the contraband was run ashore? Did he intend to let it happen while he danced with her at the Assembly Rooms? Should she be grateful that he had brought her and the girls out of danger? How much did the Reverend know? The Reverend Fuller would not be the first clergyman to accept a half-anker of brandy in payment for turning a blind eye.
But even while these thoughts were buzzing round in her head, she was sitting in her chemise and under-petticoat, having her hair brushed by Miss Quinn while the girls sat on her bed, watching the preparations, almost as excited as if they were going themselves.
‘Papa went to a ball almost every week when he first came home from the war,’ Julia said, putting her head on one side to see Charlotte’s reflection in the looking glass. ‘I heard Grandpapa telling Grandmama he had agreed to look for a new wife and that Lady Hortensia Carstairs would suit him very well. She was the daughter of a Marquis and would give him an heir, which I collect is of all things desirable.’
‘What happened?’ Lizzie asked, putting the question Charlotte herself longed to ask. Julia’s words had brought home to her that the Viscount had no male heir and that would be a prime consideration if he were ever to marry again. At nearly thirty she would not be considered a candidate, even if he had known of her connection to Lord Falconer. As it was, he imagined her to be well below him in rank and, perversely, she had decided not to disillusion him
‘She came to Malcomby Hall to stay,’ Julia answered. ‘But I did not like her and she did not like me, so nothing came of it.’
‘Why did you not like her?’ Fanny asked. ‘Was she ugly?’
‘Oh, excessively so. And top lofty. You have no idea how top lofty. She had a very long nose and looked down it at me and said I should not be allowed to run free about the house and if she had the managing of me I would be confined to the nursery.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I think it annoyed Papa to be criticised, though he did not show it. He sent me to my room and that made me angry.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I climbed out of the window and down the ivy and went to the coach house and threw horse muck into her carriage on the fine velvet seats.’
‘Oh, you never did!’ Lizzie exclaimed and the other two looked at each other, unsure whether to laugh or be shocked.
‘I did. You should have heard her when her coachman told her of it, screeching like a witch she was, and packed her bags and set off home just as soon as the men had cleaned it out for her. Papa blamed one of the stable boys.’
‘That was unfair of you to let a stable boy take the blame,’ Lizzie said.
‘Oh, I didn’t. As soon as Lady Carstairs left, he came to my room to see me and I started to tell him not to blame Saul, but he said he didn’t, he knew it was me. He confined me to the house for a week, though I think he was secretly glad I had got rid of her for him.’
‘Julia, it is not a matter to be proud of,’ Charlotte rebuked her mildly.
‘Well, just so you know.’
Was there menace in the girl’s voice, a warning to leave her father alone? Charlotte suddenly felt sorry for the child. She was so insecure in her father’s affections, she saw everyone as a threat and behaved badly as a consequence. ‘And now we know, we will find something else to discuss. What would you like for your supper?’
They all wanted something different and Miss Quinn was despatched downstairs to order it to be brought to their sitting room. While she was gone Charlotte slipped into her ball gown.
It was three years old, but it had been a favourite of hers in the days when she had gone to balls. The material of the overskirt was a pale blue-green gossamer covered with tiny embroidered flowers in silver thread; the underskirt was blue silk. The effect was one of shimmering lightness, like the waters of a lake with the moonlight shining on it. The high waist was bounded by a deep blue ribbon and the hem of the skirt was scalloped so that it showed the bottom of the underskirt. The boat-shaped neckline was rather more revealing than she remembered it, but there was a long, deep stole in the same blue-green gossamer that she could drape over her shoulders.
‘Oh, Mama, you look beautiful,’ Fanny said, a sentiment echoed by Lizzie, who added,
‘You will have to fight off your dancing partners.’
‘No, she won’t, for my papa will be escorting her,’ Julia said, reminding Charlotte that he would be calling for her at any moment and setting her nerves jangling again.
Miss Quinn returned and stood just inside the door, surveying Charlotte from head to foot. ‘Oh, it is so good to see you out of black,’ she said. ‘And that gown, I remember it well. You wore it when Lord Hobart took you to London for the ball to celebrate Napoleon’s first defeat. I collect thinking then how it matched your eyes.’
The jubilation had been short-lived; the defeated Emperor had staged a return and it had taken Wellington and the Battle of Waterloo to show him what a mistake that had been. She had not celebrated the second time because, by then, Lord Hobart’s health was failing. Little had she suspected that his demise would change her life so radically. She looked round at the children and felt a sudden surge of love for them all and, never one to stifle her feelings, hugged them one by one, even the difficult Julia, then sat down at her dressing table and took her emerald necklace from its case and, turning to Julia, smiled. ‘Would you fasten it for me, dear?’
The girl jumped up from the bed and went to obey, her expression revealing her pleasure at being chosen for the task. It was no sooner round her neck than a knock came at the outer door and they all trooped into the adjoining parlour as Miss Quinn admitted Stacey.
He stepped into the room and stood a moment, looking at Charlotte as if he had never seen her before. She was out of black and wearing something light and soft that clung to her figure and swirled about her feet. He realised, with a start, that apart from their first encounter on the beach, he had never really seen her hair; it had always been covered by a black lace cap or a bonnet and any escaping tresses had been firmly tucked away. But now he saw it in all its glory, beautifully arranged so that it coiled about her ears and was drawn up on top of her head where it was held with combs, allowing loose curls to fall about her ears and onto the nape of her neck, such heavy, shining hair and such a long, white neck. The schoolmistress had gone and in her place was the most beautiful, the most majestic woman he had ever set eyes on.
He took a step towards her and then suddenly became aware that they had an audience. Miss Quinn and the girls were all watching. He had not expected a reception committee, but it was typical of Charlotte to allow them to be present and his face twitched into a smile as he executed a flourishing leg for their benefit. ‘My lady, your obedient,’ he said.
She dipped a small curtsy, suddenly shy. He was in an evening coat of black superfine, a white single-breasted waistcoat and black breeches with white stockings. His neckcloth was pristine and elegantly tied, which made her wonder fleetingly if he had tied it himself or whether Jem, among his other tasks, fulfilled the role of valet. His hair, though not overlong, was carefully brushed into a style that curled about his forehead and ears. ‘My lord.’
‘Your carriage awaits, my lady.’
Julia giggled and that set the other two off and then Miss Quinn’s lips twitched and that made Charlotte suddenly relax. ‘I am ready, my lord.’ She smiled and offered him her hand, which he took and laid upon his sleeve.
‘If you are good while we are gone,’ he said, addressing the girls over his shoulder, ‘I will take you to the harbour to see a brand new ship tomorrow.’ He surprised himself with the suggestion. Viscount Stacey Darton, who had little time for children, had voluntarily promised to entertain three of them!
‘Are you not in haste to return to Parson’s End in the morning?’ Charlotte asked, as he escorted her out to the waiting carriage.
‘No.’ He turned to look at her in the lamp above the door of the hotel. Her eyes sparkled, there was a rosy bloom on her cheeks and she looked ten years younger than she did in that all-enveloping black. ‘I am finding the attractions of Ipswich growing more and more inviting every minute.’
She was not sure what to make of that reply, but decided she would be a fool to read more into it than a little mild flirtation. ‘You are looking forward to the ball?’ she asked. ‘It will be nothing like a London ball, you know.’
Jem appeared from nowhere, opened the carriage door and let down the step with a flourish and a grin, then stood back to allow Stacey to hand her in and climb in behind her.
‘My beautiful companion will more than make up for that,’ he said, settling himself beside her as the carriage moved forward smoothly.
‘Sir, I declare you are flirting with me.’
He turned towards her and could not resist reaching out and lifting one of her curls on his finger. It was silky soft. ‘Why not?’
‘I might object.’
‘But you don’t, do you?’ He spoke softly. ‘I speak only the truth. You are beautiful and you will outshine everyone there, blinding me to any deficiencies in my surroundings.’
‘La, sir,’ she said with a light laugh, proving she had not forgotten how to flirt herself. ‘You will put me to the blush.’
‘And a very pretty blush it is too.’
The banter set the tone for the whole evening. Each was determined to be light-hearted and not speak of anything contentious and they alighted at the door of the Assembly Rooms and made their way inside, still smiling.
The ballroom was decorated with spring flowers and greenery. Its floor had been lovingly polished and on a dais at one end an orchestra played for dancing, making up in enthusiasm what it lacked in skill. Everyone from the Master of Ceremonies down to the doorman who admitted them was intent on making it a night to remember, but even without that, neither Stacey nor Charlotte were likely to forget it.
They danced quadrilles, country dances, gallops and waltzes, and though he relinquished her to other partners now and again, most of the time they danced with each other, happily ignoring the protocol that decreed that a man who danced more than twice with an unmarried lady was as good as proposing to her. They were both mature and widowed and surely such strictures did not apply to them? As far as Stacey was concerned he meant to propose, just as soon as he found the right moment, but it had to be exactly the right moment because he did not know what he would do if she rejected him.
‘People are looking at us,’ she said, as they danced a waltz before the supper interval.
‘They are looking at the belle of the ball,’ he said. ‘I am having to fight off the young men who want to take a turn about the room with you.’
She laughed. ‘Flummery! I am too old for such nonsense.’
Her laughter pleased him. It was a light merry sound that told him she had at last relaxed. ‘Old?’ he murmured. ‘You are in the prime of life, the best age to be, not silly, not empty-headed, but beautiful and intelligent and wise and I think…No, I know…’ He stopped, looking down into her upturned face. ‘I love you.’
The shock of hearing the words she had so longed to hear made her stumble. He pulled her closer to steady her. ‘My lord—’
‘My name is Stacey. I should like to hear you call me by it, at least when we are alone.’
‘We are not alone. We are in a room full of people and attracting attention.’
‘Then we will go somewhere where we are alone.’ He took her hand and started to lead her from the room. She tried to resist, but, aware that they were being watched, could do nothing but go with him.
‘They think we are having a lover’s tiff,’ she said when they found themselves in a deserted corridor.
‘We can hardly have that, since we are not lovers.’ He drew her into an alcove and turned to face her, taking her shoulders in his hands, feeling the softness of her bare flesh, where her shawl had fallen down about her arms and manfully resisted the urge to put his lips to it. ‘Not that I do not wish we were.’
He had introduced a jarring note; he would like her for a lover, a little dalliance, nothing more. Why did that shock her? Had she expected him to be any different from Sir Roland and that odious Augustus Spike? The answer to that was yes and her disappointment brought the tears welling in her eyes. ‘My lord, just because I entered into the spirit of the evening and allowed you to flirt with me a little does not mean you may take liberties.’
‘It depends what you mean by liberties,’ he said, drawing her close against him and lifting her chin with his forefinger, so that she was looking up into his face. ‘Do you mean this?’ And before she could utter a sound he had covered her mouth with his own. The kiss began roughly because he was annoyed and frustrated, but when she stopped struggling, he softened the pressure of his lips and gently explored her mouth with his and then moved it down her neck and along her bare shoulder until he felt her shudder and groan low in her throat. It made him suddenly aware of what he was doing, and he lifted his head to look into her face. Even in the poor light from a lantern further along the corridor he could see her eyes were bright with tears.
