The Chaperon Bride

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘Marry me,’ he said, against her ear.

  Annis pulled away a little, still leaning against Adam for support. ‘You should not have kissed me so much, for now I cannot think straight. I will give you my answer tomorrow, my lord.’

  There was a step on the tiles of the hall and Mrs Hardcastle’s voice carolled, ‘Miss Annis, are you still awake? I’m back from the theatre. That Miss Mardyn—what a hussy. I thought, she’s no better than she ought to be—’ She pushed the door of the drawing room open. ‘Why are you sitting in the dark, Miss Annis? Oh!’ She jumped back.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Hardcastle,’ Adam said, with what Annis considered remarkable aplomb. He loosened his grip on her and allowed her to get to her feet, which she did, albeit shakily. Adam stood up too and put one steadying arm about her.

  ‘If you will excuse me, I was just leaving.’

  Mrs Hardcastle gave him a thorough stare. ‘That’s probably for the best, my lord. Gracious, Miss Annis, entertaining gentlemen callers when you are alone in the house! Whatever next?’

  ‘I was persuading Lady Wycherley to marry me,’ Adam said shamelessly.

  ‘I saw your means of persuasion,’ Mrs Hardcastle said. ‘Not that I’m sure they will work, my lord. My Miss Annis is most obstinate.’

  ‘I should be grateful if you could prevent yourselves from discussing me as though I were not here,’ Annis said, recovering herself. She held her hand out to Adam. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’

  Adam bowed. ‘Goodnight, Lady Wycherley.’

  ‘A dangerous gentleman,’ Mrs Hardcastle opined when she had shot the bolt behind Adam. ‘You make sure you marry him, Miss Annis.’

  Annis gave her a startled look. ‘It was not very long ago that you were warning me that handsome is as handsome does, Hardy.’

  ‘Aye, well, I’ve not changed my mind on that.’ Mrs Hardcastle smiled grimly. ‘There’s plenty of men I’d tell you not to touch with a long, sharp stick, Miss Annis, but yon gentleman is not one of them. No, you mark my words. He’s a good lad. You marry him.’

  ‘I am glad to have your blessing, Hardy,’ Annis said, ‘for I think that that is exactly what I shall be doing.’

  ‘No need to sound so mealy-mouthed about it,’ Mrs Hardcastle said. ‘I saw the two of you just then. You were enjoying his attentions, Miss Annis, so don’t pretend you weren’t! Either that or you’re a better actress than that Miss Mardyn will ever be. The sooner you’re married the better.’

  As soon as Annis entered the Promenade Rooms the following day she was aware that the buzz in the air came not from gossip about her own doings but something far more exciting.

  ‘Have you not heard?’ Sibella demanded, once greetings were exchanged. ‘There was the most tremendous riot last night at Mr Ingram’s estate at Linforth. The windows were smashed and the outbuildings set alight and the mob delivered a letter that said that unless Mr Ingram desisted from his money-grubbing practices they would not stop until they had burned every one of his properties to the ground.’ She gave an artistic shiver. “‘Look to thy soul, for we shall deal with thy body,” the letter said.’

  Annis raised her brows. ‘How very melodramatic. How has Mr Ingram responded to this warning?’

  ‘He has threatened to have the yeomanry called out and he has offered a reward of a thousand pounds for the capture of the rebel leader,’ Sibella said. ‘A thousand pounds, Annis! There’s many a man would sell his own grandmother for that amount.’

  ‘We shall see,’ Annis said. She looked about. Rather than promenading, the good people of Harrogate were gathered in loquacious groups, all discussing the news of the riot. Judging by the laughter and bright-eyed excitement there were plenty who felt that Ingram was getting his comeuppance.

  The door opened and Adam, Edward, Della and the Dowager Lady Ashwick all came into the long room. Annis saw Adam excuse himself from the others and quicken his step as he saw her. He came straight over to her and took her hand.

  ‘Lady Wycherley. How are you this morning, ma’am?’

  ‘I am very well, I thank you, sir,’ Annis said, her composed tone belying the flutter of excitement his presence always stirred in her.

  ‘Mrs Granger.’ Adam smiled at Sibella, who smiled back happily. Annis reflected ruefully that it was good that at least one of her family could get on with the Ashwicks.

  ‘We were just discussing the shocking news of the riot at Linforth,’ Sibella said. ‘It sounds quite dreadful!’

  ‘Very violent,’ Adam agreed. ‘I believe the other topic of conversation is Mr Woodhouse’s sad demise. Plenty of people are wondering if it is safe to drink the water from the chalybeate well now that it has been polluted by his body!’

  Annis’s reply was lost as the door opened with a crash that was loud enough to stop all conversation. Samuel Ingram entered, followed by Charles Lafoy, whom Annis thought was looking quite ill. Behind them was Mr Pullen, the magistrate. Annis saw Charles look around and saw his gaze fall on Della Tilney. He winced visibly. Annis met his gaze across the room and she gave him a puzzled, questioning look. Charles shook his head slightly.

  A strange silence had fallen in the Promenade Rooms. The chatter, which had swirled up briefly after Ingram’s arrival, now died down to an ominous hum before fading away altogether. The three men were walking the length of the room towards them. Edward Ashwick, his mother and sister started to draw closer too as Ingram’s party made its way towards Adam.

  It was evident to Annis that Charles was deeply discomfited and the fact that she and Sibella were present made matters much worse for him. She moved closer to Sibella and took her arm in a comforting grip.

  ‘Excuse me, my lord.’ The magistrate cleared his throat.

  Adam looked enquiring. ‘Yes, Mr Pullen, what can I do for you?’ His gaze moved on to Ingram and his expression hardened. He gave the slightest of bows. ‘Mr Ingram.’

  ‘If we might go somewhere more private, my lord?’ Pullen looked quite agitated. ‘Mr Ingram has laid a matter before us regarding the riot at his estate of Linforth last night and we must ask you a number of questions.’

  ‘Ask me?’ Adam raised his brows incredulously. ‘Are you implying that I had something to do with the matter, Pullen?’

  Mr Pullen looked increasingly unhappy. ‘Privacy, Lord Ashwick. That’s the thing. Surely…’ he looked around ‘…you do not wish this crowd to be party to your business?’

  Adam’s jaw set. ‘There is nothing for them to be party to and I have no difficulty in making that clear. I had nothing to do with the riot at Linforth last night.’

  Ingram stepped forward. ‘Do you own a bay stallion with a white star, my lord?’

  Adam frowned. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘There are witnesses who can testify that the rebel leader rode such a horse last night. That he was a man of broad stature and he spoke like a gentleman.’

  Adam looked contemptuous. ‘So? That could be any number of people, Ingram.’

  There was a loaded silence.

  Mr Pullen hopped from one foot to the other. ‘Were you at Eynhallow last night, my lord?’

  ‘I was not. I was in Harrogate.’

  Pullen said eagerly, ‘I am sure that this matter could be cleared up easily if there are witnesses.’

  Edward Ashwick shifted uncomfortably. ‘My brother had dinner with me last night.’

  Ingram looked down his nose. ‘At eleven of the clock, Reverend? The damage at Linforth was done late in the night. It takes no time for a man to ride from Harrogate to Linforth on a good horse…’

  Once again there was a tense silence.

  ‘My lord?’ Pullen said, uncertainly.

  Adam shrugged. ‘I cannot help you, Pullen.’

  Mr Pullen looked as though he wanted to cry. ‘Then I have no alternative but to ask you to answer further questions, my lord.’

  Annis took a deep breath. She let go of Sibella’s arm and stepped forward.

  ‘Lord Ashwick was with me yesterday e
vening,’ she said. She looked pointedly at Ingram. ‘At eleven of the clock.’

  A ripple went through the onlookers. Annis saw Sibella glance quickly towards her, frowning. Charles took an impulsive step forward, then checked himself. His face was stormy. Annis glanced across at Adam. He looked studiously blank.

  ‘Lord Ashwick called in the evening, after dinner,’ she continued. ‘We had a glass or two of sherry and spoke for a while. He must have left at about eleven-thirty, I suppose. My housekeeper could verify the time for you, Mr Pullen.’

  ‘I am indebted to you, madam.’ Pullen looked as though he was not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful. Annis wondered whether he had already heard the gossip about her encounter with Adam in the spa bath the previous day and was reflecting that her standing as a reputable chaperon was well and truly done for.

  Adam stepped forward to her side. Annis felt his comforting presence at her shoulder although she did not turn to look at him.

  ‘You will appreciate that I wished to keep Lady Wycherley’s name out of this matter, Pullen,’ Adam said. There was anger in his tone and a tenderness that made Annis tremble. ‘However, as she has seen fit to disclose the truth, I can only concur. There is, after all, no law against a man having a glass of sherry with his betrothed…’

  This time the gasp of surprise was even louder. Edward Ashwick was the first to pull himself together and stepped forward to clap Adam on the back. ‘No, indeed. Hearty congratulations, Ash. I am glad that Lady Wycherley has accepted your suit.’

  Lady Ashwick took her cue, pressing forward to kiss Annis’s cheek. ‘So am I, my love. I am persuaded that you are just the wife for Adam!’

  After that there seemed nothing more to say as Sibella, her face breaking into a relieved smile, came up to hug Annis, and even Charles got himself in hand sufficiently to give her a peck on the cheek.

  Mr Pullen, beaming with pleasure, backed off.

  ‘Well, then…Very many congratulations my lord, my lady…Please excuse the confusion, my lord…clearly a case of mistaken identity…’

  ‘Indeed,’ Adam said. He gave Ingram a challenging stare. ‘You will have to do better than that, I fear, Ingram.’

  Ingram’s jaw was working. ‘I am sure I will do, my lord,’ he ground out, turning on his heel and stalking from the room, scattering the onlookers like chaff in the wind.

  Adam took Annis’s arm firmly in his. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, pray excuse us. I would like to take a turn about the room with my fiancée.’

  There were murmurs of approval and smiles. Annis, however, was conscious only of the bruising grip of Adam’s hand on her arm. He steered her away from the group and over towards the big windows where they might achieve a modicum of privacy. He was frowning hard.

  ‘You should not have done that, Annis.’

  Annis glanced at him. ‘I did not wish Mr Pullen to cart you off on a trumped-up charge and it seemed you were unwilling to help yourself! Besides, it is the truth.’

  ‘That is not the point. Your good name—’

  Annis wriggled. ‘My good name was compromised two days ago, my lord, when Mr Thackwray found us together in the spa room. Was that not why you proposed to me?’

  Adam gave her arm a little shake. ‘Yes…no! You had no need to make matters worse!’

  ‘I do not see why you are objecting. Mrs Hardcastle can vouch that you left and she is the very acme of respectability.’

  Adam sighed sharply and let her go. ‘Am I to take it then that you have accepted my proposal?’

  Annis felt a small pang of guilt that the matter should have been resolved in this manner. It was not how she would have chosen and somehow it seemed to set everything off on the wrong foot. ‘I…yes, I thank you. Has there ever been a more public plighting of troth?’

  Adam did not smile. ‘You do not really wish to marry me, though, do you, Annis? You are only accepting out of necessity!’

  Annis’s face crumpled up with a misery that reflected the unhappiness inside. ‘It is not like that, my lord. It is not that I do not wish to marry you; it is that I had not wished to marry at all—’ She broke off, aware of listening ears. ‘We cannot talk about this now.’

  ‘No.’ Adam glanced at his watch. ‘Devil take it, I have an appointment in ten minutes that I cannot break. Do you still travel to Starbeck this afternoon?’

  Annis glanced across at Charles, who was clearly only waiting for his chance to pounce on her. ‘Oh, yes. I would like to get away from Harrogate for a space.’

  ‘I hope that the house is habitable.’ Adam looked irritable. ‘Damn it, I do not like this, Annis. It is not wise for you to be alone at Starbeck with a rioting mob on the loose. I have a better idea.’ He looked across at his mother and Edward and Della. ‘Why do you not come to stay at Eynhallow for a few days? It will give us time to discuss wedding arrangements and I would feel happier to know that you are under my roof. We may ride over to Starbeck together and decide what is to be done with it.’

  When apprised of the plan, Lady Ashwick seemed pleased to offer hospitality.

  ‘Indeed, Lady Wycherley—Annis—that would be delightful. Edward, Della and I are travelling home immediately and you are welcome to ride with us, but if it suits you better to join us later…’

  ‘I will do that, I think, ma’am,’ Annis said. She was feeling a little panicky at the way in which the Ashwick family suddenly seemed to be taking charge. Her precious independence was disappearing faster than moorland mist. She felt quite hopeless—on the one hand she realised that she had no option now other than to marry Adam, and quickly. On the other, she felt trapped and afraid. She hoped that Adam could not tell how reluctant she was, but when she looked at him she saw that he was watching her and she realised that her fingers were grasping her reticule so tightly that the tortoiseshell clasp was almost bending under the pressure. She quickly loosened her grip, but she knew that he had noticed, and when she looked into his eyes all she could see was regret.

  Chapter Ten

  I t was getting dark as Annis’s coach passed the gibbet at Welford Hill and started up the steep incline out of the Washburn Valley towards Eynhallow. The countryside was bathed in the purple of twilight as the sun sank behind the hills. They were a mere fifteen miles from Harrogate and yet it was like another world. Gone were the bandbox-neat town houses and tidy streets, gone the order and comfort of civilisation. This was a landscape that could kill the unwary, with its empty hills and sudden mist rolling down from the moors. This was a countryside where men scraped a living. The contrast with the town had always fascinated Annis, especially as night closed in and the true wildness of the moors was revealed.

  The trees beside the track were etched black against the paling sky and Annis, who was leaning forward to look out of the window, shivered suddenly, although the summer air had not yet lost its warmth. There was something so free about the hills, something that called to her. Her spirit wanted to be free, yet now she felt boxed in, trapped by convention and necessity. It was exactly the feeling she had had at seventeen when, having married John Wycherley out of a desperate need for security, she had found out that she had made a terrible mistake.

  The coach lurched to a halt and Annis almost fell off her seat. She opened the window.

  ‘Barney? What is the problem?’

  ‘Fire up ahead, Lady Wycherley,’ the coachman replied. ‘I thought it safer to stop and find out what is happening.’

  Annis craned her neck. Some fifty yards ahead there was a building on fire. All she could see was the blazing silhouette against the darkening sky. The moon had not yet risen.

  ‘It is the tollhouse! Mr and Mrs Castle may need help! I will go and see what is happening.’

  Annis grabbed the carriage pistol from its holster and jumped down, ignoring the objections of the coachman. There was a chill in the night air now and a cold breeze from the hills. It fanned the flames and they hissed and cracked, dancing wildly. As she drew closer, Annis could see t
hat the tollhouse had been completed and what had been a fine little building of wood and stone was now crumbling to ash in the leaping flames. There was a crash as a roof spar fell and set up a shower of sparks.

  Annis hesitated, for she could see that the house was beyond saving and there was no possible way that she could even get close enough to discover whether the Castles had escaped. She prayed hard and fervently that they had not been trapped inside.

  Another light flared further up the road and suddenly the air was rent with shouts and the roar of flames taking hold. There was another shout closer at hand and Annis spun round to see Barney whipping the horses up the road towards her.

  ‘Lady Wycherley! Get in the carriage, ma’am! They are coming!’

  It was too late to run and the carriage was still too far away. Annis saw the mob spill into the road, a seething mass of men, shadowy, outlined by the firelight. Some were armed with sledgehammers, others with pistols and blunderbuss. All were masked and in the firelight they looked like mummers depicting a scene from hell as they swarmed over and around the ruined building, fanning the flames, hastening the destruction.

  The air sizzled with the sound of cracking timbers and flying sparks; it was alive with the shouts of the rioters and it crackled with the excitement and atavistic pleasure of the men as they went about their destructive work. Annis pressed one hand against her mouth and flattened herself against the hedge, feeling the twigs stick into her through the thickness of her cloak, trying to efface herself in the darkness. This was a very dangerous place for any witness to be, let alone a woman on her own armed only with a pistol that, suddenly, she could not remember whether she had loaded.

  Not all of the rioters were on foot. As Annis watched, a rider came down the road on a skittish bay stallion. He turned the horse expertly in front of the tollgate itself, which still blocked the road in all its five-bar splendour. Annis remembered Charles saying that Samuel Ingram had been very pleased with the design and construction of his tollhouses. Some of the structures on the roads were a flimsy affair, but Ingram had had his built to last and to bring in maximum profit. Instead they had kindled rebellion.