Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall

by Height of Folly

  Will stood for a moment with his mouth open but recovered himself quickly.

  “Very well, my lord.”

  Frederick chuckled to himself. He had triumphed. Will was offering no arguments against the plan. This is my new decisive self, he reflected. I am growing used to having a manservant. Mistress Deborah likewise had a lady’s maid imposed upon her. We had a pleasant laugh together on the subject.

  On the morning they were to set out John Horden accosted him after they had risen from breakfast. He appeared to have waited deliberately till Deborah had gone up to her room to check Suzette’s packing.

  Frederick thought he looked rather red and flustered. “I hope you don’t mind, Lord Branford, but de Neury has asked me to take a letter to a friend of his at Saint Germain. It’s not out of our way, you know, and Saint Germain has some very fine architectural features which I’m sure you’d like to see.”

  “By all means if your sister is agreeable.”

  John reddened even more. “That’s it, you see. She may kick up a bit of a rumpus because that’s where the young Prince James has his court and this fellow le Vent has been going about hunting for Jacobite conspirators everywhere. Deb said he spoke to you the same day he spoke to me. It’s all nonsense of course. France has troubles enough with the war. She’s not wanting to harbour English rebels, is she?”

  Frederick was in a dilemma. He mustn’t upset Deborah and he was too new in their acquaintance to arbitrate between brother and sister.

  John rushed on. “If yousaid you were sure there was no harm in it she’d be easy in her mind. De Neury says the man is just a friend he corresponds with. Nothing political at all.”

  “So why does he not send the letter by a servant?”

  “He could of course but he’s told me about how interesting the place is and I really want to see it.”

  “In that case I am sure we would all like to see it. Here isyour sister.”

  Deborah was descending the great staircase. What a splendid figure she looked in her long travelling cloak! Frederick felt like a dwarf as he stepped forward to give her his hand on the last step.

  “Mistress Horden, your brother is telling me there are interesting things to see at Saint Germain and we can easily take them in on our way.”

  He saw her brows rise as she looked at her brother. “What things, John?”

  “Buildings and such. What you like looking at.”

  “Yes, there is the palace which King Louis gave to our exiled James and where his son now lives.”

  “Oh, come on, Deb. I’m not going to see him. I’m not going near his court. We can look at the palace from afar. De Neury has asked me to hand over a letter to a friend if we happen to be calling there to see the sights.”

  That’s not how you put it to me, John Horden, Frederick thought. Well, le Vent passed us all clear of suspicion so there can be no harm in it. But that may be just why the vicomte is using John. We know nothing of hisplots or whether le Vent still has his eye on him. He looked at Deborah to see how she was reacting.

  She pursed her lips in a charmingly thoughtful way. “I have read,” she said slowly, “that there is a mighty long stone terrace there built by André Le Nôtre, from which you can see the Seine valley all spread out and on a fine day pick out the Cathedral of Notre Dame. I wouldlike to view that, but I would also like” – she lowered her voice – “to drop the little vicomte and his letter in the river.”

  Frederick couldn’t help chuckling as he saw the mischievous gleam in her eye.

  “But you’ll go along with it, Deb,” John cried. “After all, le Vent told me he was going back to England so his sniffing round here is over for the present.”

  Deborah raised her eyebrows again. “He told you that, John?”

  “Well, put us all at our ease, you know.”

  Frederick could see John Horden was certainly more at ease now.

  “If Lord Branford is happy –” Deborah began.

  And so a few minutes later instructions were given to Peter and Joseph and to the Rombeau coachman and the party set off.

  The August day was ablaze with sunshine and even the solid mass of the Palace of Saint Germain and the great terrace spreading in both directions seemed to Frederick to be melting and shimmering in the heat.

  They had all descended from the carriages to mount to the terrace and see Paris but a heat haze hung heavily over the Seine valley.

  Frederick noticed that John was fidgeting from one leg to the other and Deborah was watching him with a frown on her face.

  “ Youdo not have to play post-boy, John,” she said. “Give the vicomte’s letter to one of the servants.”

  “I’d better just take it myself. It’s not addressed on the outside. De Neury told me where to find his friend.” And he hurried off in the direction of some of the lesser buildings that clustered at the side of the palace.

  Deborah sighed and turned to gaze into the fuzzy distance. Frederick wanted her freely laughing self to reappear.

  “Pray do not be anxious, Mistress Horden,” he began. “Your brother will return in a few minutes and we can resume our journey. At least the motion of the carriages creates a little breeze.”

  She looked round and smiled at him but he could tell her thoughts were far away. They walked up and down on the terrace and watched the other sightseers but an hour passed before John came running. When he saw the heads of the many strollers turning to look in astonishment and some alarm he slowed his pace and sauntered up to them with a laugh.

  “They must have feared I brought bad news, a battle lost or some such thing.”

  Deborah snapped at him, “And where is your apology to Lord Branford for keeping him waiting in this heat? He will be regretting ever proposing to travel with us if this happens again.”

  Frederick made deprecating noises as John flushed and stammered his regrets.

  “Didn’t realise how long – they – heurged me to take a glass of wine.”

  Frederick instantly imagined a group of conspirators, heads lowered, drinking round a table.

  Deborah too picked up on ‘they.’ “Who have you been seeing? What people are these you have been meeting?”

  John tossed his head. “Just a few friends of de Neury’s friend. Why are you so suspicious, Deb? I’m sorry about you waiting in the heat. We could go down into the small town and find some refreshment.”

  This they did and Frederick made sure that ale and cheese and French loaves were sent out to all the servants at his own expense.

  When they were ready to resume their journey he ventured to suggest the rearrangement of the carriages that he had already proposed to Will Smyth.

  “You said ‘after a few days’ my lord.” Will reminded him, his face as pugnacious as a bulldog.

  “And now I have proposed it to my friends and they have agreed,” Frederick told him. He didn’t say John had agreed readily while Deborah had been reluctant. He guessed she had prepared fierce words with her brother if they had been on their own. I hope that was the reason for her reluctance, he reflected, as he handed her into his own carriage. I want harmony between the two of them. What he really wanted was for John not to be with them at all but he would scarcely admit that even to himself.

  With an ill grace Will gathered Matt, Suzette and Joseph into the second carriage and the coachmen took their places. This was how they travelled for the next few days till they reached Orleans. John gave his sister no more alarms and though he was quiet and thoughtful, Deborah herself shed her anxiety and threw herself into enjoying the trip and, Frederick hoped, his own company.

  At Orleans they sent the Rombeau carriage ahead to Nantes and Frederick paid off his hired carriage so that they could take to river transport for a change. From Nantes they went on to Saint Nazaire to see the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Nothing between us and the Americas,” cried Deborah stretching her arms to the waves. “Is not that an astonishing thought?”

  She had plucked off h
er hat which the wind was threatening to blow away and her hair ballooned out into a flaxen cloud behind her. Frederick could only gaze at her in delight and wonder that he should have met such a woman. She was so different from Mary, the wife he had lost, a slight figure, smaller than himself, with dainty features, fawn-like eyes and a clinging nature. She had been in awe of his strong mother and devoted to him but her constitution was always delicate and childbirth had been too much for her. He had however been made to feel a man. She looked up to him in all senses and he delighted in being her protector.

  This Deborah Horden was a tower of health and strength. He could never aspire to be anything more than an admirer from afar. He had told her his story but would not presume to delve into hers. She was a free spirit, with sudden enthusiasms, as she showed now when she exclaimed that she must find a way down to the shore and walk to the very edge of the sea.

  “I want to see those waves breaking at my feet.”

  John refused to attempt the descent because he was wearing new shoes but she found a rough path down and Frederick accompanied her, with Suzette picking her way carefully a few steps behind as usual and then looking up with eyes and mouth agape as the great breakers tumbled in towards them.

  “She has never seen the sea,” Deborah told him. “I saw it first when I was ten and my father took me on a boat down the Tyne.”

  Frederick felt a sharp pang of memory.

  “I saw it at Holkham Sands. Mary and I went to the Norfolk coast after our wedding. There were seals basking and she was quite frightened of them – like giant slugs, she said.” He gulped on the last words. He could hear Mary’s voice and suddenly he wanted her beside him, looking up and seeking reassurance that the monsters wouldn’t come up off the sandbanks and attack them.

  Deborah looked down at him with instant sympathy. Yes, she was warm-hearted this sturdy north-countrywoman.

  “It’s still a raw grief?” she said and he nodded.

  They went back to find John at the hotel where they were to stay the night.

  After two days in Nantes Frederick hired a carriage again and they began their journey south. Will Smyth expressed satisfaction that they were on their correct itinerary though Frederick knew he didn’t approve of their mode of travel. He was deprived of the pleasure of chivvying his master at every opportunity, nor did he care for the company of Matt who in his view was too high-spirited for a manservant.

  Although it was now early autumn the weather was still benign. As they journeyed they met some anti-English sentiment from mobs in the cities but most landlords were happy to take their money. Frederick was impressed by Deborah’s interest in the news. There was much talk that King Louis had offered peace terms to The Hague. Deborah commented that he was trying to split the allies and the Duke of Marlborough was more likely to be spending his time on diplomacy than planning more campaigns before winter.

  One day they were quenching their thirst in a tavern in Lyons when a man claiming to be a retired French officer leant across to Frederick and remarked, “You English will never beat a French army fighting for the land of France.”

  Deborah replied in her impeccable French, “But sir, France has forces in the Low Countries, Northern Italy and Spain. Her own borders are not breached. Perhaps their heart is not in it now.” The officer, floored by this imposing lady speaking his language so well, withdrew quickly. Deborah gave Frederick a mischievous smile. How much my enjoyment is enhanced by her presence, he reflected, but we must part company soon when they return to Rombeau. The prospect left him desolated.

  The next day in Lyons was stormy and they stayed indoors and wrote letters, Frederick to his mother and grandfather, while Deborah said she would write a general letter for her grandmother, father, mother and sister. John said he would write to Jeanetta to tell her they would be starting their return journey after they had seen Marseilles. No letters from her had reached them though John had had one from his mother-in-law, Diana, to say that the pregnancy was proceeding perfectly.

  “Jeanetta is no correspondent,” he told Frederick. “Writing letters is such a bore, she always says, but she makes me write in French which is mighty hard on me. I can talk the lingo now well enough but spelling it – !” He put his hand to his head,

  “I’ll correct it for you,” Deborah offered but John refused and Frederick wondered uneasily what messages he might be sending to the Vicomte de Neury.

  Before autumn turned into winter they reached Marseilles where Frederick felt overwhelmed by Mediterrranean colour, noise and smells, the brilliance and bustle of boats on the blue water, the piles of fruit and vegetables shouted for sale by the roadside, the stench of fish. As they strolled along, smiling at their assaulted senses, they were suddenly startled to hear roaring shouts and a great clanging, rattling noise. They looked up to see two galleys rowed into the harbour manned by slaves.

  “They are chained to the benches!” Deborah cried in French which was now coming more readily to her lips. “How can a civilized people allow such horrible practices!”

  A captain, smoking a pipe on the quay, turned and glared at her. “The slaves are allowed time to earn money ashore when they are in harbour so they can buy their freedom.”

  “Takes ‘em most o’ their lifetime,” muttered a wizened old man passing by. “I knows. I was one of ‘em.”

  Frederick had his hand in his purse at once and was picking out a coin to give him when the whole purse was snatched from him and the man disappeared into the crowds. Will Smyth, always at hand, reproached him sadly.

  “My lord, I have advised you many a time. Keep a few coins loose in your pocket for such eventualities. Never produce a whole purse to public view, my lord, if you’ll pardon my saying so.”

  Frederick saw Deborah watching him with a smile of sympathy. He shrugged his shoulders at Will.

  “You had better see if any of these stalls will sell you a gentleman’s purse. And you needn’t remind me that it’s for the second time nor can I promise it won’t happen again.” Will compressed his lips and stumped off.

  “I had no such troubles in Cambridge,” Frederick ruefully told Deborah.

  “Nor I at Horden though one has to be on guard on the streets of Newcastle where there are many beggars. Are you wearying of this travelling, Lord Branford?”

  “A little.”

  “But will you go on into Italy now we are so far south? You know you are welcome back at Château Rombeau to meet the comte.”

  Frederick saw with dismay that the moment of parting was imminent. His grandfather had been very emphatic that the galleries and antiquaries of Italy were to be the focus of his travels. If the weather held it was essential to take ship to Genoa and spend the winter in Florence or Rome.

  A daring idea leapt into his mind. “What of yourself, Mistress Horden? Your brother of course must return for the birth of his child. But you also hoped to see Italy, did you not?”

  “Indeed I did.” She was gazing at him very intently. Could it be that she had the same thought as he had?

  He put it into words. “Would it be presumptuous of me, on the basis of the longstanding friendship of our families, to offer to be your escort?” He knew he was blushing. He couldn’t believe she would consent.

  She made no reply at once but looked about for John who had wandered off to purchase some gift for Jeanetta.

  “Ah, there he is,” she said. “I think he’s returning.” Her eyes, Frederick saw, were very bright. Her whole body as she stood up to wave to John seemed tense with excitement.

  John sauntered up. There was no sign of Will yet.

  “John, John,” she began, “Lord Branford has just made the most sensiblesuggestion.”

  Frederick’s heart swelled with delight at her choice of the word ‘sensible.’ It was so unromantic that it would surely convince John of its propriety.

  “You want to get home to Jeanetta as quickly as possible, do you not? You and Matt could travel some of the stages on horseback wit
h a pack animal for your baggage. I on the other hand wish to go into Italy while we are so near. It was planned that we would go by sea but Father forbade me to travel alone. I must have a man with me. Lord Branford is travelling in that direction too and has three men to look after him. What do you say?”

  Frederick was staggered at the speed with which she had clad his tentative proposal with practical details. She was a wonder and it was wondrous that she had agreed. He looked at John.

  “Well, that’s a sudden idea, Deb. What would the old folks at home say, d’you think? I mean is it proper and all that? Wouldn’t I be sort of abandoning you, you know.” He laughed uneasily at Frederick. At the same time Frederick could see the idea growing on him as he spoke. No doubt he would like to be free of his sister’s supervising eye.

  Deborah frowned at John. “Of course it’s proper. Our father and Lord Branford’s father were close friends as were our grandfathers. We know Lord Branford very well now ourselves and as for Will Smyth no one could have a more protective escort than he.”

  “Well, dash it all, it certainly makes sense,” John began and then Will Smyth came up and handed his master a small leather purse.

  “Pray put it away at once, my lord, before eager eyes catch sight of it.”

  Frederick knew he must face Will alone with this plan so he proposed returning to the hotel where they were staying and ordering a dinner to be served.

  When he and Will were in his room he said straight out, “Will, Mr John Horden is to return shortly to Rombeau for the birth of his child.”

  “That I understood, my lord. We can then proceed with the itinerary which the earl laid down – without any more divergences or distractions, my lord.”

  “With the company of Mistress Horden and her French maid.” He said it quickly, not looking at Will’s face.

  There was an ominous silence.

  Frederick added, “So you can book passage to Genoa for two more in our party.”