The Man in the Green Coat

by Carola Dunn

  Her ladyship jumped to her feet, swooped on Gabrielle and enveloped her in a scented embrace. “Jamais!” she cried. “Never while I live shall Maurice’s children work for a living!”

  “Even if Sir Oswald is forced to give you your full allowance, we cannot let you keep us, madame. We are agreed on that.”

  “I shall tell you of your family, but not yet. It is plain that le bon papa does not want you to know until he is here, so we will allow him a little more time, n’est-ce pas? If he does not come by the end of the summer, when we must return to London, than I will tell you all I know. Ça va, chérie? In the meantime, you will enjoy the little vacation in the country and not worry.”

  “Very well, madame. But I shall hold you to it. Come September, I intend to know just who we are!”

  Gabrielle kissed Lady Harrison and went to her chamber. All her clothes had been put away already. Unlike the grand chambers below, the room was simply furnished with sturdy Jacobean furniture, the walls whitewashed and a white rag rug on the well-polished floor. It might seem cold in winter, but at this time of year it was refreshing.

  She sat down on the bed. Feeling suddenly weary, she leaned back against the pillows and swung her legs up. The window was directly before her, framed by flowered chintz curtains. Through a gap in the trees she could see all the way up the grassy slope to the Great House.

  Did one of the windows belong to Mr Everett’s room? Was he in it, changing for dinner perhaps, looking down the hill and wondering what she was doing?

  With a sigh, she decided that it was unlikely. Mrs Tombaugh had said that his lordship didn’t hold with country hours. They dined at eight at the Great House, and if miss didn’t mind they’d do the same here, for otherwise there’d be no end of confusion. And besides, she’d enough to do without hurrying to get dinner on the table by five or six.

  Gabrielle did not say that she had no expectation of being invited to dine at the Great House. Eight o’clock would be fine, she agreed.

  * * * *

  “Oh dear!” said Lady Harrison at breakfast the next morning. “You are perfectly correct, Gabrielle, that we must pay a courtesy call this morning, but how am I to get there? We have no carriage, and this is not London where one can simply send a servant out for a hackney or a chair!”

  “You will have to walk, madame,” said Gerard, grinning. “Come, did we not hear you saying that you plan to exercise regularly while in the country?”

  “I intend to take a gentle stroll in the shrubbery. It must be a good mile to the Great House!” she wailed.

  “Not much more than half a mile,” soothed Gabrielle, “and we will go slowly.”

  “Uphill all the way!”

  “Think how pleasant it will be on the way back.”

  “I have not the proper shoes.”

  “I distinctly remember that you had a pair made especially before we left London. Let us send for Marie and ask her.”

  “No,” sighed Lady Harrison. “You are quite right. But I refuse to turn around and come home after a polite quarter hour. It will take me much longer to get my breath!”

  By the time they reached the Great House, she was indeed panting and very pink in the face. While Gerard rang the bell, Gabrielle folded her parasol for her and fanned her vigorously. When the butler admitted them, she sank into a chair in the spacious entrance hall, looking as if she would never move again. Gabrielle continued to fan her.

  “I will see if her ladyship is at home,” pronounced the butler, and left with measured tread, no whit disconcerted at the arrival of a plump and breathless lady on foot.

  “If Lady Cecilia is not at home,” gasped Lady Harrison, “I shall have died for nothing!”

  Fortunately, the butler returned to announce that Lady Cecilia would receive them in the morning room. It proved to be a small sunny parlour looking out over the rose garden. Gerard was dismayed to find that the three Misses Everett were also present.

  "Devil take it!” he whispered to his sister. “A house full of females!”

  To his relief, after an exchange of courtesies Lady Cecilia suggested that he should go and look for her eldest son.

  “He will be in the gun room or the stables,” she added. “Just ask one of the servants.”

  “The gun room or the stables!” repeated Gerard joyfully. “Thank you, ma’am, I shall certainly find him!”

  “Rolf is up at Cambridge,” Lady Cecillia explained to Lady Harrison, “but he is no scholar. He spends all his time at home in sporting pursuits.”

  “Our brothers are certain to become friends, Miss Everett,” said Gabrielle to Dorothea, “if yours is indeed as mad for horses and guns as is mine!”

  “Rolf thinks of nothing else, I vow.” Dorothea set a careful stitch in her embroidery. “Except the army, that is. Now that we are at war with France again, I expect Papa will let him leave the university and join the cavalry.”

  “Gerard also wishes to become a soldier.” Gabrielle did not feel inclined to add that he himself had made this course impossible by gambling away all their money.

  “Men are all the same, I vow,” said one of the younger girls scornfully. Sturdy, good-natured schoolroom misses, with none of Dorothea’s delicate beauty, they sat at a table looking through some fashion magazines their sister had brought them from her season in London.

  “Luke is not,” said the other. “I have never heard him express the least desire to join the army.

  “No, but he likes to ride and shoot and hunt when he is at home.”

  “You like to ride yourself.”

  “Do stop squabbling!” begged Dorothea. “What will Miss Darcy think of you?”

  “Only that I wish I had had a sister. Though brothers are all very well in their way. I expect Mr Everett spends as much time here as he can spare?”

  “He usually comes quite often in the summer. But when he left this morning, he said he should be particularly busy for the next month or two and that we must not expect him.”

  “He is gone already? I had thought he meant to stay at least a day or two. And he will not be back this summer!”

  The sun shone as bright as ever through the wide windows, but to Gabrielle the day seemed suddenly grey.

  Chapter 15

  Gerard was not seen again until five minutes before dinner, when he burst into the Dower House’s resplendent drawing room with muddy breeches and a rip in his jacket.

  “Rolf Everett is a very good fellow,” he announced. “I bagged five rabbits.”

  “Go and change at once!” ordered his sister firmly. “That is no way to appear before madame, and dinner will be ready any minute.”

  “Good! We had no luncheon and I am starving. All right, all night, I’m going! Don’t wait for me.”

  “We shan’t,” Gabrielle assured his departing back.

  Ten minutes later he appeared in the dining room, reasonably clean and tidy, though a London dandy would have stared at his neckcloth. He helped himself to a large slice of pigeon pie, surrounded it with well-buttered potatoes, permitted Gabrielle to add a few mushroom fritters, and set to.

  “We are invited to dine at the Great House the day after tomorrow,” said Lady Harrison.

  “Mph.”

  “Lady Cecilia kindly sent me home in a gig.”

  “Mph.”

  “She says we may borrow any carriage we wish whenever it is not in use.”

  “Mph.”

  “You are a great conversationalist,” said his sister. “It may interest you to know that I walked home, with Dorothea, and that we are on first-name terms.”

  “Dashed unnecessary fuss you females make about such things.” Gerard took another mouthful, disposed of it, and added, “Have you had some of this pie? Best crust I ever tasted. Rolf and I are going riding early tomorrow. He says he is certain his father can have no objection if I borrow a hack. So I shall not have to ask Lord Everett after all.”

  “You must still ask his permission, when we go to dine. No, do
not rip up at me! I did not say you may not ride tomorrow. I am heartily glad that you and Rolf are become friends so quickly, and I do not mean to meddle, I assure you.”

  “Good,” said Gerard, and reached for a bowl of cherries.

  He was disgusted, two days later, to discover that he was expected to don knee-breeches for dinner at the Great House.

  “What is the use of living in the country,” he complained bitterly, “if you have to dress as though you were in town?”

  Gabrielle had no patience with him.

  “Don’t be a clunch,” she said. “If Rolf says knee breeches are customary, then you will wear them. Do you want to seem an underbred hayseed? Be thankful that at least you can get into them with ease.”

  A piercing groan from Lady Harrison’s chamber lent meaning to her words. However, when her ladyship appeared, she announced with pride that Marie thought she had already lost an inch or two. Gerard rose to the occasion.

  “If I am to escort two such beautiful ladies,” he said, “then I do not mind so much that I have to wear knee breeches.”

  The Everetts sent a carriage to fetch them, a propitious beginning to a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Gabrielle was disconcerted to note that Lord Everett again kept glancing at her with a puzzled look, but she was soon won over by his charm and kindness.

  Without the least condescension, he satisfied her curiosity about the multifarious crops growing on the Wrotham lands, and even offered to show her about the estate and the farms if she should like it. Whatever persuasion it had taken to force him to retire to the country, it was plain that he now took great pride in his once-neglected land.

  By the time the ladies retired from the table, Gabrielle was perfectly able to understand why Lady Cecilia had chosen to wed a gentleman so many years her senior.

  When the schoolroom party joined them in the drawing room later, she was pleased to note that his lordship extended his polite consideration to the governess. Since she might one day have to seek such a situation for herself, it was good to know that such employers could be found. Lord Everett also showed himself to be a benign, even indulgent, parent. It was Lady Cecilia who hushed the children when the game of lottery tickets grew noisy, and she who sent them up to bed before the tea tray was carried in.

  All in all, thought Gabrielle sleepily, lying in bed and gazing out of the open window at the moonlit park, it had been the most delightful evening she had ever spent. Only one thing had made it less than perfect: Luke’s absence.

  And Papa’s, she added guiltily.

  At that very moment, Lord Everett was entering his wife’s dressing room, clad in a dragon-embroidered dressing gown of Chinese silk. He dismissed her maid, kissed the back of her neck, and sat down in the comfortable wing chair which was set there for just that purpose.

  “You don’t need that,” he said indulgently, watching her splash her face with Distilled Water of Green Pineapples. “You have the best complexion I’ve ever seen. Tell me, where did Luke come by the Darcys?”

  “Do you like them?”

  “Yes. They made a good first impression when I met them in London, and they improve upon acquaintance. Especially the girl. But I should like to know who they are and what they are doing in my Dower House. And do not tell me that story about consulting Lady Harrison about redecorating the place. You have never shown the least inclination toward doing the place over before, and it has been in its present state these thirty years and more!”

  “Lady Harrison does have exquisite taste.”

  “Cut line, my lady!”

  Lady Cecilia went to sit on the arm of his chair, and ran her fingers through his silver hair.

  “I have hopes that Luke may marry the young lady,” she confessed.

  “Ha, so that’s it! What makes you think that this one is any different from the dozens of eligible maidens you have cast in his way any time these ten years? He has not so much as risen to a one of them.”

  “It’s true he has never taken the bait, but Miss Darcy is not of my choosing. He positively insisted that I presume upon an exceeding slight acquaintance with Lady Harrison in order to obtain an introduction to the Darcys. However, I cannot get it out of my head that he had met her before. Since she is but recently come from France, it may be that she is in some way connected with his work at the Foreign Office.”

  “A spy! Good God! And you want me to take her into the bosom of my family?”

  “Not a spy precisely. Though if she was, I am sure she would be on our side, for you know how patriotic Luke is. But she is by far too well bred to be a vulgar spy. Do you not think that she is of gentle birth?”

  “On the wrong side of the blanket, most like. She does resemble someone I know, though I cannot bring to mind just who. But all this is beside the point. She has no fortune, I take it? Luke cannot afford to marry for love.”

  Knowing well how much he blamed himself for the situation, she kissed his furrowed brow and gently stroked his clenched fist until it relaxed in her warm clasp.

  "Henry," she said, “I have always respected your decision not to inform my parents about our difficulties. But if it is a matter of Luke’s future, if it would make the difference between his losing or gaining the hand of the woman he loves, then I will not let pride stand in the way. Neither mine nor yours.”

  Bowing his head, he gripped her hands fiercely in both his, then slowly nodded.

  “As you will.”

  He picked her up and carried her in still-strong arms into their bedchamber.

  * * * *

  In the morning, Lord Everett sent a groom with a note to Gabrielle, asking whether it would be convenient for him to call for her at noon to ride about the estate. She dressed with care in her only riding habit, of deep red Circassian cloth. The red-dyed feather in her hat had broken on the journey, but Marie managed to trim it so that it was at least respectable. Remembering his lordship’s speculative gaze, scarcely less piercing than his son’s, she was determined to appear immaculate.

  On the dot of twelve, the doorbell rang. Lord Everett’s courtesy extended to punctuality, it seemed. Gabrielle pulled on her gloves while Tombaugh opened the front door. Facing the bright sunshine, she made out only the silhouette of the gentleman standing on the step. It was not the baron, whose figure, though admirable for his age, had undeniably lost its youthful leanness.

  “Are you ready, Miss Darcy?”

  “Luke! I mean, Mr Everett!”

  “Luke will do very well.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “I thought you were not coming back.” Her fingers trembled as she laid them on his sleeve.

  “There was no urgent news at Dover to send me hurrying back to London, so I yielded to inclination. I cannot stay longer than a day or two, though, so I trust you will not object if I join you and my father on your ride?”

  She suddenly realised that Lord Everett was waiting, mounted on a black horse and holding the reins of two more.

  “Good morning, sir. Is that mare for me? How pretty she is!”

  “Not as pretty as her rider,” said his lordship promptly. “I apologise for my son’s presence. He arrived early and has been chafing at the bit this hour and more. It was more than I could do to persuade him that we do not wish for company.”

  Blushing, she allowed Luke to help her mount. He whispered in her ear something provocative about knowing she preferred to ride astride, which she pretended not to hear.

  The mare was as easy-mannered as she was good-looking, and Gabrielle was soon comfortable enough to spare her attention for the guided tour. Why, then, did she find when she reached home that she retained only the vaguest impression of acres of plum trees and endless plantations of hazel bushes, laden with still-green nuts?

  ‘The only thing she recalled clearly was Luke’s smiling eyes when he asked whether she cared to drive with him next day to Ightham, to see the moated manor house and the prehistoric hill fort.

  “Prehistoric?” she murmured vagu
ely. “It sounds fascinating.”

  Lord Everett was much inclined to believe that his wife was right!

  * * * *

  Lady Cecilia raised her eyebrows when the proposed outing was revealed to her,

  “You will take your man, I suppose,” she said, “or one of the grooms.”

  “Is that really necessary?” asked Luke, frowning. “It is an open carriage and it is no more than three miles.” He remembered the midnight escapade to Lincoln’s Inn, where their only chaperon had been a burglar, but that was not something he could describe to his stepmother!

  “Yes,” she answered flatly. “You know how people talk, and I am sure you will not wish to give them reason to talk about Miss Darcy.”

  “Of course not. But to have Baxter up behind! I know, I’ll see if Dorrie and Rolf, oh, and Gerard will go with us. Rolf may drive the gig. Will that satisfy your notions of propriety, ma’am?”

  “That will be unexceptionable,” she said, lips twitching. A second carriage full of young people would allow Luke and Gabrielle far more privacy than a servant in the same carriage. “Just do not forget that it is Sunday. If you miss the early service you must be back for evensong.”

  Pulling a face, Luke agreed. In London his churchgoing was sporadic, to say the least, but here in the country one was expected to set a good example.

  Informed of the treat in store for him, Rolf grumbled that if he was expected to squire his sister about, he had rather have stayed in Cambridge.

  “I’ve seen that devilish moat a thousand times if I’ve seen it once,” he said indignantly.

  “Sorry,” said his brother, grinning. “But we shall go up to the hill fort also, and you and Gerard may re-fight all the putative battles of the Stone Age.”

  Rolf's face lightened. “By Jove, you’re right! I’ll go and tell Cook to put up a couple of hampers for lunch.”

  To his sister, Luke presented an invitation rather than an order. Dorothea accepted listlessly. She supposed she might as well do that as anything else.

  Luke took her hand. “You are unhappy,” he said. “Do you miss the gaiety of London?”