by Mira Stables
He stopped short, horrified to hear himself descending to cheap melodramatics—and promptly blamed Miss Ingram. She did not look like a heartless siren. Unaccustomed to the ways of women, it was natural to him to think of her in terms of the horses that were his sole love. She had all the appearance of a high-bred filly, full of fire and spirit but never a particle of vice. It was the inconsistency between appearance and character that disturbed his judgement and led him to berate her so. He shut his lips firmly, resolved not to fall into error again. But the damage was done.
“Then permit me to tell you, sir,” returned Miss Ingram in tones of searing fury, “that your ward has only her own petty jealousy to blame for her troubles. Mr Staneborough is certainly a gentleman whose friendship I am proud to claim. But he does not live in my pocket, nor is he likely to propose marriage to one whom he regards rather as a wise mama than as a girl of his own age. As for my conduct in the matter, it is, I believe, my own concern, so pray keep your strictures for your wards, who might possibly benefit from them. And here is Agnes patiently awaiting me,” she added in a much more moderate key.
Since Agnes had already approached within earshot he was obliged to accept her departure. But if she thought that was the end of the matter, he thought grimly, she would learn better. Despite her denial it seemed pretty obvious that she meant to take Staneborough if she could get him up to scratch. She should discover that one James Cameron would have something to say to that. Nor was his sudden resolution solely on Letty’s account. He had never been so thoroughly snubbed in his life and before he was done with her he would teach Miss Ingram a sharp lesson. Revolving the various ways in which this could be achieved he drove back to Cavendish Square, mentally adding a further score to Miss Ingram’s account as he recalled all the afternoons that he had wasted in trying to achieve his end by diplomacy. Yes. Very definitely the time had come for sterner measures.
By the end of a week he had found out a good deal about Miss Ingram’s circumstances. There were one or two points that he found a little puzzling since they did not fit his picture of the lady’s character, but these he dismissed as unimportant. It was annoying, though, that she seemed to be quite invulnerable. He could discover nothing to her discredit that might have served as a weapon to force her into submission. Blackmail had a nasty ring to it but Mr Cameron had at least the honesty to acknowledge that this was what he had in mind. He consoled himself with the thought that Miss Ingram thoroughly deserved the punishment that was coming to her. But the devil was in it that he could not hit upon a suitable weapon. The lady’s only reported weakness was her devotion to her sister, and not even Mr Cameron could see how that might be made to serve his purpose.
In the course of his extremely thorough investigations it was natural that Miss Ingram should be much in his mind. He went over their one conversation time and again. Here, also, there were inconsistencies. Miss Ingram appeared to think that her advanced age was the only thing that was holding Staneborough back. Mr Cameron had seen her at close quarters and in full sunlight, and he would not himself have thought—But no matter for that. He finally reached the conclusion that the girl must be a consummate actress. If he had not known from Letty of her perfidy, had not himself heard that brief snatch of conversation, he would have believed her to be honest in her indignation at his charge. Or perhaps she really was in love with Staneborough. That would explain conduct which, by all reports, was distinctly out of character.
Before he had time to reflect further along these lines, Letty made her next move. Three weeks had now elapsed since her first appeal to her guardian and she was growing impatient. She knew all about those afternoon drives in the park—such a departure from established practice had caused much comment. She even knew that on at least one occasion Miss Ingram had been her guardian’s companion. She naturally assumed that he was following her suggestion and doing his best to divert the lady’s attentions. Only he did not seem to be making much progress. It was time to apply the spur. She therefore told him in faltering tones that Lucian had offered to accompany Miss Ingram to Italy when she left to pay her annual visit to her Papa. No lady, he had said, should attempt so long and perilous a journey without the services of a courier to provide for her comfort and safety. Naturally she did not explain that the suggestion had been made in jest, with no thought of its being accepted, nor that it had been promptly laughed out of court by Miss Ingram with a brisk account of the number of times that she had made that same journey accompanied only by her sister, their maid and an experienced coachman, and of the ways in which they had dealt quite adequately with the various mishaps that are the general lot of travellers. Moreover she definitely tampered with the truth when she told him that Miss Ingram had said it would be time enough to think of couriers when she had found a respectable abigail to attend her on the journey, since on this occasion she meant to travel post and without her own devoted Agnes who was to accompany her sister on a visit to friends in the country. She was not, decided Letty virtuously, actually deceiving her guardian, since all the facts that she had stated were true, even if they had not, as she implied, been related in one conversation.
Mr Cameron could not at first understand why this shocking tale should have driven him into a towering rage. Miss Ingram’s moral standards were really no concern of his. When he had simmered down a little he decided that it was because it represented a guerdon flung down to himself. He had dared to interfere. Very well, the chit had thought. Let him see what I can do if I really exert myself. She had probably engineered the whole, so that it should occur before the eyes of the innocent Letty and so, inevitably, be reported back to him.
Letty, who had seen the anger in his eyes, accepted brusque dismissal thankfully enough. Mr Cameron, possibly feeling that exercise, fresh air and a change of scene might dissipate his evil humour, ordered his travelling chaise to be brought round in an hour’s time and left Town for a brief visit to his Hampshire estate.
Chapter Four
“I think that really is everything,” decided Russet, with a rueful twinkle for her own fussing. “And you will not expect to hear from me for a month at least. I shall not write to you until I am safely installed at the villa and then we must allow for possible delays in the mail. But perhaps I had best address my letter to you at Denholme—in case you are invited to prolong your stay.” And she smiled teasingly as Gilbert grinned and Joanna blushed as she settled back into her seat beside Agnes. Gilbert swung into the saddle and Russet waved the little party away with mixed feelings.
Predominant was relief that nothing had occurred at the last moment to cause any hitch in rather complicated arrangements. Cousin Olivia had departed on the previous day to stay with an old school friend in Wales, vowing that she would positively dote on rural isolation after all the bustle and noise of Town. They had brushed though the last wearisome days of the season in tolerable comfort, and now Joanna was on her way to Denholme. So far, so good.
For Joanna’s sake she prayed for a happy outcome, though she could not quite banish the reflection that her sister’s marriage would leave her very lonely. While she was in Italy, she decided, she must devote some thought to devising a suitable occupation for the years ahead.
Meanwhile her own problems had resolved themselves with an almost miraculous simplicity. The abigail whom she had eventually engaged to go with her to Rome promised to be a real treasure. She was skilled in all the duties of her position though she confessed to ignorance of fashion’s latest quirks, her last employer having been an elderly lady who had lost interest in such details. Russet did not mind that. Far more important was Phoebe’s placid good sense. She had no objection to foreign travel; had, indeed, travelled widely, both on the continent and further afield, and made nothing of a mere journey to Rome. Even Agnes was prepared to give a qualified approval to her substitute, largely because Phoebe had shown herself willing to learn of her all about Miss Russet’s particular likes and dislikes and had listened with grave respect
to Agnes’s pronouncements on this head.
In the matter of a carriage, too, she had been singularly fortunate. She had not been very happy at the prospect of using hired vehicles for so long a journey. Always before they had taken the carriage with their own familiar reliable coachman and one of the young grooms to share the task of driving. This year Russet had felt that Joanna must have prior claim on these amenities yet it seemed foolishly extravagant to buy another carriage for which she would have little use when her holiday was over. The owner of the livery stable which had supplied Cousin Olivia’s postchaise had suggested a helpful alternative. He had just purchased a travelling chariot for his establishment. It was not new. A lady recently deceased had bequeathed it to her coachman. But it had been very carefully maintained and was both elegant and comfortable. If Miss Ingram would care to hire it for the duration of her holiday he thought he could persuade the coachman, a steady sort of man in his early forties, to undertake to drive it for her. The man was accustomed to good service and she could take one of her own grooms—or one of his lads if she preferred—and enjoy the degree of comfort to which she was accustomed.
When Russet inspected the chariot her mind was made up at once. It bore no resemblance to the usual type of vehicle offered for hire. Inside and out it gleamed with cleanliness, and though its leather lining was black and the curtains and carpeting a dark purple, colours too sombre for Russet’s taste, it was every bit as comfortable as her own coach. The coachman, too, made a good impression. He could not, obviously, produce a reference from his last place, but he offered a bundle of testimonials affirming his sobriety and reliability that covered a period of twenty two years, and said that if Miss Ingram chose to enquire of his late employer’s attorneys he was sure that they would vouch for him. She concluded the bargain forthwith, deciding to employ one of the lads from the livery stable rather than put a strange coachman over one of her own grooms for so short a period, and felt that she could now look forward to her journey with an easy mind.
She spent three leisurely days in completing her preparations for the holiday, indulging in one or two dawdling shopping expeditions to purchase such cool lawns and muslins as would be suitable to high summer in Italy. Phoebe accompanied her on these forays and proved herself so sensible and companionable that Russet began to consider the possibility of adding this excellent female to the household on a permanent footing. It made life even pleasanter when Herrick, the temporary coachman, was discovered to be known to Phoebe. At one time they had both served in the household of the same lady of quality—a countess, whose exact title escaped Russet’s quick ear though it sounded foreign. It was of no particular consequence any way. What mattered was that the pair seemed to get on pretty well together which promised comfortable harmony for the protracted journey. Russet even pondered the possibility of fostering a romance between them, then decided that she should be ashamed to be contemplating such interference in the lives of others, even if only in private and for her own amusement, and turned her thoughts instead to the ordering of her journey.
Southampton was within a day’s drive, but why hurry? She was more tired than she had thought. Better to lie overnight at Petersfield. That would allow an early arrival in Southampton with ample time for the loading of the carriage, always a long and complicated business though Herrick, she surmised, was probably quite as competent as their own faithful Tom coachman.
The drive to Petersfield went far to confirm this assumption. Herrick proved himself an able whip and his knowledge of the roads was superior—a fact that he discounted in pleasant fashion by saying that he had lived and worked in these parts for much of his life. He was able to suggest by-roads that were perfectly sound and well maintained yet quiet and pleasant. Russet’s night in Petersfield was peaceful, in the knowledge that her journey was in capable hands. She ventured the hope that fate had decided to smile on the Ingrams and that Joanna was equally favoured.
Next day, however, she was a trifle doubtful as to the wisdom of Herrick’s choice of road for the run from Petersfield to Southampton. It was certainly very pretty but it was also very narrow. In places the overhanging hedges actually brushed the gleaming panels of the coach and she could not help wondering how it would be if they met another vehicle travelling at speed in one of these narrow places. But Herrick seemed quite unruffled and he could, of course, see much further ahead than she could from his lofty position on the box. She sat back in her corner, lowered the window and gave herself to enjoyment of the rural scene and the pleasant scents of new hay and honeysuckle that drifted in to her. The carriage was beautifully sprung and the narrowness of the road imposed a curb on the speed. So pleasant was the motion that Russet felt quite drowsy. Which was possibly the reason why she could not afterwards remember just how the accident occurred. At one moment they were jogging peacefully along the lane. At the next the carriage swerved violently and came to an abrupt, rocking halt, the body tilting perilously as the nearside wheels sank deeper into the ditch. Phoebe was flung unceremoniously on top of her mistress. Over the abigail’s shoulder Russet caught a brief glimpse of a pair of powerful chestnuts harnessed to some light vehicle; of a spare, erect figure driving; and had the ridiculous notion that the three of them were flying, so swiftly did they flash past. By the time that she and Phoebe, with considerable difficulty because of the steep angle at which the carriage had come to rest, managed to extricate themselves from their corner, Herrick was tugging open the offside door, his voice raised in anxious enquiry, and the vehicle which had caused the accident had vanished, horses, driver and all, so completely that Russet blinked startled eyes and wondered if she had imagined it.
Herrick’s remarks, however, once he was reassured as to the safety of his passengers, left her in no doubts on this score. “Went past us at a full gallop, he did, and never swerved by so much as a hair’s breadth,” he ejaculated. And then, rather surprisingly, “And never so much as a scratch on the paint. If I hadn’t seen it for myself I’d not have believed it.”
Russet looked at him curiously. He sounded almost admiring rather than properly furious. Perhaps the expression on her face served to remind him that his concern should be for his employer rather than for the paintwork of the carriage. There was apology in his voice as he said, “I’ll need to go for help, ma’am. The horses ain’t injured but it’s more than they can manage to pull us out of the ditch, so deep as it is. There’s a gentleman’s house just round the next bend. Let me take you and Phoebe there where you can be comfortable, and maybe they’ll be able to lend us farm horses and ropes. Smithers can stay with the horses.”
Russet did not greatly care for the plan, not wishing to be beholden to a stranger, but she could hardly stand in the road for two or three hours and further enquiry discovered that the nearest posting inn was five miles away. Since Herrick now seemed sincerely concerned for her comfort she did not like to take him to task, though she thought it had been foolish to stray so far from frequented roads. It seemed best to fall in with his suggestion, and since Phoebe, too, apparently regarded casting oneself upon the charity of strangers as a very normal occurrence, Russet straightened her bonnet, shook out her skirts and followed her guide to a pair of handsome wrought iron gates that gave access to a well-kept park. No glimpse of the house could be seen from this approach but Herrick assured her that it was not very far, and was only invisible from this angle because of the sheltering trees, an assurance for which Russet could only be grateful. She had suffered no actual injury in the accident but now, she noticed with painful concentration, her hands and her knees were trembling uncontrollably and the hospitably open gates seemed to be wavering in a kind of haze. She had never fainted in her life but instinctively her hands went out to clutch at the graceful scrollwork. Dimly she heard Phoebe say sharply, “Catch her, Matt. She’s going to faint. And no wonder, poor little lass. A cruel trick if ever I saw one.”
Through the engulfing mists that threatened to overwhelm her, Russet felt sturdy a
rms catch and lift her; heard Herrick’s voice reply gruffly, “Aye. But it had to be done and you know it. And maybe this way’s best. There’ll be no outcry. I’ll carry her up without more ado—and she’s taken no real hurt,” he ended on a vaguely placatory note.
Even in her near senseless state Russet was aware of something desperately wrong. She struggled feebly in the coachman’s hold, heard Phoebe say soothingly, “There now, dearie. Don’t you fret. No harm shall come to you or my name’s not Phoebe Herrick,” and was again aware that these would-be comforting words posed yet another mysterious threat. It was her last conscious thought.
She came up from the depths to a fleeting sense of security and warmth. Someone had taken off her dress and shoes and loosened her stay-laces. Phoebe’s motherly arms were supporting her as she lay stretched on a day-bed, Phoebe’s voice encouraged her to swallow a bitter tasting potion that was held to her lips, assuring her that she would feel very much more the thing when she had done so. She drank obediently. The draught certainly seemed to dispel some of the wavering blending outlines that still made her feel giddy, but she was shivering convulsively and feared that she might yet be sick if she did not lie still with her eyes closed until natural objects resolved themselves into their own distinctive shapes once more. Someone was gently chafing her icy feet and she could feel the gentle warmth that was gradually returning to her limbs as a result of these ministrations. She wanted to voice her thanks for such kindness and opened her eyes as she tried to express her gratitude. The girl who was kneeling at the foot of the day-bed glanced up. From beneath the shelter of a rose-coloured sari a pair of huge brown eyes timidly returned her gaze. Russet had never before seen a Hindu maiden but even in her half-waking, half-dreaming state she recognised that this was no ordinary abigail. Her mouth trembled into a rather shaky smile. She overcame the drowsiness that seemed to be creeping over her for just long enough to whisper a shy, “Thank you—you are very”—and the heavy lids closed again as she succumbed to the powerful sleeping draught that she had swallowed.
