The Tarrant Rose

by Veronica Heley

  Just beyond the village Jasper met them, with the gig. He had only just returned to the Hall from an outing … Sophia had been out all day, too … he was beside himself with horror and rage. He wanted to go down into the village and horsewhip every able-bodied man, there and then. The Earl persuaded him that his duty lay in getting his aunt to bed … it was not far … Mr. Carramine and Sir John, as magistrates, would deal with the matter. …

  Miss Nan was laid in the gig, and then trundled up the lane to the Hall. Sophia met them in the yard. She had just been told of the riot, and was setting out to meet them. With loving cries she bore her aunt off to bed, and Jasper remembered his manners long enough to order refreshments for Philip.

  “Yes,” said Philip, “I would like a word with you in private, if I may. I want to tell you about an adventure I had on the way down to Hamberley. I was given a letter to deliver to you. I think you were expecting it?”

  The boy’s bewilderment set Philip’s last remaining doubts at rest. He knew now what he must do. He took the boy into the parlor and made sure that the door was shut and no servants within keyhole range before he spoke again.

  The lamps were brought in, and the two men had finished a substantial meal before Sophia brought them the news that Aunt Nan was going to be all right.

  “You are very quiet,” she said, trying to smile. It looked as if she herself had been crying.

  “We were wondering if it would be possible for your aunt to make a visit to one of her relations for a month or so,” said the Earl. “I am sure that Mr. Farrow will be dismissed from his post after this, but I do not like to think of her being harassed by the villagers, now that they think of her as a witch.”

  “Aunt Nan go away? What nonsense!” cried Sophia. “Why, where would she go? To that fool of a cousin of hers in York, to look after his mad wife? He would make a drudge of her.”

  “I was thinking she might stay with her sister, Lady Midmain, in Town.”

  Both Jasper and Sophia shook their heads. “It would never do,” said Sophia. “They never liked each other, even as children. Aunt Helen is very pretty but also very vain, and Aunt Nan used to tease her. Then Aunt Helen was supposed to have been responsible for the accident which crippled Aunt Nan. Aunt Nan forgave her, but Aunt Helen couldn’t forget about it, and there were bitter things said before Aunt Helen married Sir Gregory and went away to London. Aunt Nan is in general the very sweetest of persons, but now and again the devil seems to get into her. …”

  “As it did when she came up against Mr. Farrow,” said Jasper, nodding.

  “Maybe time has softened Lady Midmain,” suggested the Earl.

  “I doubt it,” said Sophia. “She’s a jealous cat. When I was a child, she used to pet me, and give me presents, but as soon as she saw that I was growing up, she began to hate me because her gentlemen friends paid more attention to me than to her. Jasper, are you quite well?”

  Her point was a good one, for the boy seemed to have aged several years that afternoon. The Earl stepped between brother and sister, giving Jasper time to make a recovery. “It grows late, and I must be on my way. I am glad to hear Miss Nan is doing well.”

  “She wants to see you before you go, to thank you. I will take you to her.”

  Miss Nan lay in a pleasant, tapestry-hung room. She looked like a child, lying neatly in her narrow bed, but her eyes were bright, and she held out his riding crop to the Earl as he entered the room.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Philip turned, but Sophia had left them alone.

  “How did you know?”

  She indicated the silver crest on the knob of the riding crop. “The sign of the Swan told me. I wondered, when I found a monogrammed handkerchief in the pocket of your coat when I was mending it. And then, your manners, your air … you puzzled me. When I saw the crest, I knew.”

  “You told Sophia?”

  “No. You have your reasons for hiding your identity, no doubt, and I am already deep in your debt.”

  “I told her I was Rame, but she would not have it. She told me I was the tutor. I did not wish to embarrass her, and it did not seem to matter, for a day or so.”

  “It must have seemed like an adventure to you. I understand how it was. I saw that you were attracted to Sophia, and she to you. I watched your eyes, and I watched her, when she thought I wasn’t looking. I was afraid for her, even before I guessed who you were. You have saved my life. I am deeply in your debt, but I urge you to leave without doing us any more harm.”

  “For Sophia’s sake?”

  “For all our sakes. I am no witch. I cast no spells. Only, sometimes I see things in the fire which come true. I have seen the Hall deserted, and heard Sophia weeping … and I saw the sign of the Swan replace the Ram and the Rose over the gatehouse … I am so afraid, so old and tired. I can feel evil all around me, and I do not know how to avert it.”

  “I am not evil. I mean you no harm.”

  But her eyelids were closing, and Sophia had returned to take him away.

  Sophia drew him into the bedroom he had occupied during his stay at the Hall. She turned her head away from him, but not before he had noticed that she was still close to tears. She said that she wanted to add her thanks to those of her aunt. She said that she would like to check that he had not done his broken bone any injury. She took his riding crop out of his hands and laid it down. She began to push back his coat from his shoulders. He could not bear it. The desire to kiss her was so great that it was impossible for him to stand still while she examined him. He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before; he had had women in plenty, before, during and after his marriage, but he had never wanted one as he wanted Sophia. The room seemed to darken. His arms went round her. Her mouth was slightly parted. She shook her head as he pulled her close, but the protest she was trying to make died away as he kissed her. This time she did not repulse him. She sighed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax against him. As her arms went round his body, he, too, closed his eyes.

  There was an exquisite pleasure in holding her like this. He had not thought she would give in so easily. He had wanted her from the moment he had seen her. Marriage was out of the question; she was as far beneath him as the village folk were beneath her. But a civilized period of flirtation, followed by seduction—discreetly carried out, as all his affairs had been—that was what he aimed for. If he had not been so tired, he would have taken his conquest a stage further. …

  She said, “I thought you had gone to London. I never thought to see you again.”

  “Nor I, to see you. Kiss me again.”

  She raised her lips willingly, and sighed his name, “Philip.”

  He thought: Better and better … she does know how to flirt, after all.

  He said: “You say my name as if you had practiced it.”

  Her arms slackened. She was withdrawing from him, playing coy. Now she was blushing. That was good. She knew how the game ought to be played, in spite of her pretense of innocence.

  He laughed, exhilarated by the joy of the chase.

  Her eyes flashed, and she drew herself up. “I ought not to have forgotten myself. I was distressed about my aunt, and grateful to you for saving her. My conduct may have misled you into thinking that I wished you to … it is not so, of course. You must not forget that I am to marry Sir John Bladen.”

  He caught her hand and put it to his lips. “You do not view the marriage with pleasure, I am sure.” He thought he was on safe ground. He was teasing her, willing her to play the game with him.

  “What is it to you whether I wish it or no?”

  She had him, there. His eyes narrowed. She was challenging him to state his interest in her, and he knew that he could have none.

  “I understand you,” she said. “You say nothing because you mean nothing honest by me. My aunt warned me.”

  “It is out of the question that I should marry you, but need that prevent our meeting, now and then?”

  “I
would not play my husband false.”

  “Husbands … wives … they understand these things. All will be well, provided only that we are discreet. The lady who has been selected for me to marry will turn a blind eye to …”

  “Forgive me, sir.” She swept him a curtsey which would not have disgraced a duchess. “My standards of morality differ from yours. I see that we have nothing in common.”

  She held the door open, and he had perforce to pick up his riding crop and leave. In the hall Jasper Tarrant was waiting; a servant with a lantern stood by, ready to light Philip back to the Manor. Philip had feared that Jasper might notice his confusion, but the lad had too much on his mind to be aware of other people’s problems. Sophia, too, was preoccupied. The three of them exchanged formalities, and all the time Philip was wondering if Sophia would tell of his attempt to flirt with her. He hoped that she would not, because it might destroy the boy’s trust in him. He believed she would not normally confide such a matter to a boy so much younger than herself. He had gambled, and lost. He cursed himself. He might have jeopardized everything for the sake of a passing desire for a pretty girl.

  He said something to Jasper about not forgetting their intention to meet on the morrow, and Sophia interrupted to remind Jasper that he would be very busy then, with preparations for his coming-of-age party. Philip saw that she meant to deny him the opportunity of seeing her again, but Jasper took her intervention as a reminder to offer an invitation to the party to the man who had rescued their aunt. “Of course you must come,” he said, “And bring Mr. Denbigh, too.”

  Sophia looked dismayed, but controlled herself sufficiently to second her brother’s invitation. Her eyes sent Philip an explicit message—“Don’t you dare to come!” they said.

  “I shall be delighted,” he said.

  Chivers drew back the bedcurtains and announced that it was nine of the clock, and that the Earl had two visitors waiting for him downstairs. The valet seemed agitated; he swallowed hard and blinked. Philip stretched out his arms to be enveloped in his dressing-gown, and asked what was the matter.

  “Nothing, my lord.” Chivers swallowed again. “What do you wish to wear today? One of the men is Mr. Farrow. The servants seem to be uneasy in his presence—that is, the local servants. He is waiting in the hall.”

  “Let him wait. It will do him good to reflect on his sins for a while. And the other?”

  “The other person is in the kitchen, partaking of breakfast. It seems he has ridden down from London with letters for you, but he says he does not come from Lord Carteret. Indeed, I am sure that he does not. He says that he must speak with you urgently.” Once more Chivers swallowed, and blinked.

  “My lord, I beg of you not to see the man. Let me ask him for his letters.”

  “My lord!” Mr. Denbigh burst into the room, his wig awry. “There is a man below who says he has letters for you from London, but I am sure he has come to kill you. I could not be certain at first, but when I looked again, I saw that it was the same man, the highwayman, the one who killed the French courier.”

  “Now this is very interesting,” said Philip. “I will see him, as soon as I have dressed.”

  Mr. Denbigh and Chivers raised their voices in protest. It would be madness, the man would draw out a pistol and shoot the Earl at sight; they must send for Sir John Bladen, for Mr. Carramine, for everyone, and have the man taken into custody. …

  “Quietly,” said the Earl, and they fell silent. He took his seat by the window, and signed to Chivers to begin shaving him. “If this is the man who killed the French courier, then I have nothing to fear from him. I believe he is a Government agent, sent here by my uncle.”

  Chivers’ hands shook as he lifted the razor. “My lord, I implore you not to admit the man. For my sake, be reasonable.”

  “I am always reasonable. I think I had better shave myself today.” The Earl took the razor from Chivers’ hand and set about making himself presentable. The valet’s head sank, and his hands fell lax at his sides. “What is the trouble, Chivers?” The valet shook his head, and would not say. Much against his will, Mr. Denbigh sent a servant for the newcomer, while the butler brought the Earl his hot chocolate. The fire was made up, and still Chivers stood, drooping, wordless.

  The Earl told his valet to wait outside the door. Chivers stared at his master, but went out of the room on unusually heavy feet.

  A jovial-faced man was ushered in, and looked around him. He was neatly but quietly dressed, suggesting a well-to-do shopkeeper in his appearance. His build was bulky, but he was light on his feet, and his eyes were cold. He looked formidable.

  He bowed to Philip. “Allow me to introduce myself—Dodge is the name, Jeremiah Dodge. We have met before, although you may not recall the occasion.”

  “I recall it very well.”

  “Ah. As I said to my mate at the time, I wouldn’t mind meeting up again with a cove as handles his poppers as well as your lordship does.”

  “Indeed!” said Philip, waving his visitor to a seat. “I trust your—mate is recovering from the bullet wound I was forced to inflict on him?”

  “Oh, that. That was nothing to a man of his stamp, I assure you. His missis was pleased to have him at home for a bit.”

  Philip began to enjoy himself. “And the man I was so unfortunate as to remove from this life? Does he leave a widow and children? I must admit that the possibility had not previously occurred to me, but perhaps …”

  “Think nothing of it, your lordship. It’s all in a day’s work, and Mr. Stone has assured his wife of a pension.”

  “Ah,” said Philip. Now he knew who was behind recent events! Mr. Andrew Stone was known to him primarily as private secretary to the Duke of Newcastle, but during his period of waiting at Court, Philip had learned that Mr. Stone was much more than he appeared to be. Those in the know said that Mr. Stone was the most powerful figure in the Government, although he chose to rule from the shadows behind the throne. What Mr. Stone decided on Monday, was preached by Newcastle on Tuesday, and endorsed by the King before the end of the week.

  “We’re on the payroll as Officers of the Watch,” explained Mr. Dodge. “Sometimes it’s the Postmaster General as wants something done, and sometimes it’s Mr. Stone. But Mr. Stone generally has the more interesting jobs on offer, as you might say.”

  “So it is Mr. Stone who ‘sees you right’ if anything goes wrong? Such as in the affair of the French courier? So you rode back to Mr. Stone and told him what had happened. He has now, I presume, given you instructions to obtain the letter from me, and to deliver it to the Tarrants. A pity you have had a wasted journey. I gave it to Sir Jasper yesterday.” Mr. Dodge’s eyes almost disappeared into his head. “Yes,” said the Earl, “I gave the matter a lot of thought, and came to the conclusion that as I had given the courier my word that I would deliver the letter for him, I was morally obliged to do so.”

  “Ah,” said the fat man. “And you got a reply?”

  “I have arranged to meet Sir Jasper today at noon, at the mill. He was not au fait with his father’s correspondence, and will have to apply to his aunt for the details we need to make his reply convincing. I shall be happy to give you Sir Jasper’s letter, in exchange for a note from Mr. Stone granting him immunity from prosecution. I feel sure you have been provided with one.”

  “Together with a warrant for his arrest and committal to the Tower, yes. My instructions were to use whichever was found to be necessary.”

  Philip blinked. “Have you no pity for the boy? He is quite innocent, you know.”

  “The sins of the father …” intoned Mr. Dodge. “Besides, feelings is irrelevant in this job, my lord. You would do well to remember that, if you continue to play a deep game.”

  “What makes you think that I …?”

  “I stayed the night at the inn in the village here, my lord. Very informative, I must say. They was all upset there last night, and nobody minds talking to Jeremiah Dodge. If I says so myself, I can add two
and two better than most. You can’t go rattling round the countryside rescuing ladies from drowning, and dispersing riotous assemblies without getting yourself talked about, my lord. Mr. Stone will be very interested to hear of your doings.”

  “What the devil have my recent actions to do with Mr. Stone?”

  “Didn’t you know, my lord? Mr. Stone has taken an interest in you for a long time, in spite of Lord Carteret’s wishing to push you forward as his nephew. Mr. Stone is one as sleeps with one eye open, as the saying goes. By the way, my lord, before you dismiss me, perhaps I could give you a word of warning? Your bailiff, a man called Farrow, is a scoundrel as could do with watching; also, your man Chivers used to be a Gentleman of the High Toby; or, as you might say, a highwayman.”

  “Birds of a feather, were you?”

  Mr. Dodge’s face split into a grin, and for the first time his eyes lost their chill. “You might say so, my lord. You might, indeed. But reformed characters, both of us. I am sure you can trust him as you would trust me.”

  “And how far might that be, Mr. Dodge?”

  Mr. Farrow was sweating, in spite of the chill of the morning. The Earl touched the corner of his right eye. Under the paint, the skin was discolored and slightly swollen. He thought it would be uncharitable of him to ask Mr. Farrow if he had thrown the stone which had caused the damage.

  “No, Mr. Farrow, it will not do. Diverting money intended for repairs is one thing, and just possibly I can understand how it came about that you did it. A man in my position who does not trouble to look after his interests, almost deserves to be robbed.”