A Dark Gentleman

by Margaret Carr

  Sarah was totally confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Robert’s uncle has asked to meet you.’

  ‘Cannot this wait until I have given Robert his answer, then it is for him to introduce me to his family.’

  ‘Quite proper my dear, but there are reasons why Sir William would meet with you before you give Robert your answer. Jack will escort you to Corby Manor immediately.’

  ‘Now, but surely, Aunt . . .’ Sarah would have argued more, but Charlotte waved a dismissive hand in her direction and turned to Jack.

  ‘Be off with both of you now, and give my regards to William and the brood.’

  To Sarah she said, ‘Your bags are packed and the carriage awaits.’

  Sarah’s mouth hung open for she could scarcely believe what was happening. Her aunt scowled at her, shadowed eyes defying her to disobey. Taking a deep breath Sarah rose to her feet and, without taking leave of anyone, left the room. Behind her she heard the murmur of conversation continue and her own name mentioned more than once.

  Betsy was waiting in the hall with warm outdoor clothing and a valise.

  ‘Are you not to accompany me?’ she asked the maid, after noticing the one bag. Betsy shook her head, ‘No, Miss.’

  Suspicion turned to fear. What was it all about, was Jack about to drive off with her and force her into marriage. Had dear Nelly Green been right when she warned that Charlotte was not to be trusted. If so then they were in for a shock for she was not the kind of simpleton to allow herself to be bullied she determined. She would escape, for surely Robert’s uncle would not be party to such a plot. Perhaps she should refuse to leave the house.

  Before she had time to consider this idea Jack emerged from the morning room and France already at the door ushered them out into the blustery afternoon.

  They travelled in silence until Jack asked, ‘Why so stiff, Sarah? You will enjoy the company at Corby. Sir William and his wife have six offspring, three boys at school and three little girls in the nursery.’

  ‘Then we are to stay with Sir William and Lady Isobel?’

  Jack looked startled. ‘Did we not say so. Where did you think we were destined?’

  Sarah remained silent, not willing to voice her earlier fears without sounding foolish.

  ‘God in heaven,’ he cried, ‘you thought we meant to harm you.’ His bark of laughter held anger. ‘Charlotte thought you should meet the rest of Robert’s family before you gave him your answer. Sir William practically brought Robert up, if anyone knows him, Sir William does.’ His mouth tightened as he spoke.

  Sarah asked sharply, ‘What do you and Aunt Charlotte have against Robert?’

  Jack’s eyes narrowed and a quick look explored her face before he said, ‘He is a scoundrel and a charmer, and not good husband material.’

  Sarah considered this carefully, she would not have anyone make her decisions for her. She would judge Robert for himself and not listen to gossip about him.

  They reached Corby Manor in time for dinner. ‘Oh how beautiful it is,’ Sarah whispered.

  ‘Beautiful indeed,’ Jack murmured his eyes never leaving her face.

  Sarah blushed and turned her back on him as they came to a halt at the front of the house and Sir William met them on the steps. Older than Sarah had expected, with babies in the nursery, his height was but a little above her own, while his girth spread excessively. When he accompanied them into the house however his step was as light as any dancer’s.

  In the drawing room Isabel, Lady Rossingham, laid down the book she had been reading and crossed the floor to greet them. Tiny in stature and as dark as her husband was fair. Large black eyes surveyed Sarah missing nothing. Then having made up her mind she laughed and taking Sarah’s arm hugged it close to her side.

  ‘I have ordered your rooms made ready for you, but first you must have some refreshment after your journey. Then we shall visit my babies. Do you like babies?’

  Sarah smiled. ‘I have little experience of them, but I enjoy the company of the children in my father’s parish.’

  As the visit progressed it became clear that this was very much a home built on love. Isobel showed herself to be a kind and generous mother, as they played with the little girls of five, three and one. After dinner as Sarah was shown around the house Isobel talked of her husband and sons with such pride and affection that Sarah’s heart went out to her.

  An only child herself she had often longed for a sibling. Her mother had come from quite a large family, but no-one had dared contact them once her mother had been set aside for choosing to marry beneath her. Her father rarely spoke of his background which was why she had never heard of Aunt Charlotte until the letter ordering her to London.

  Isobel spoke to Sarah of her own family while they sat in a window seat at the end of the long picture gallery. Apparently, Lord Elderton’s daughter, Angelina, had run off with a gypsy on her eighteenth birthday then returned to the family three years later with a baby in her arms.

  ‘She died eighteen months later. Sir Richard brought up Angelina’s babe as his own but the child Joss never quite fitted in. He grew to manhood and married, but his restlessness increased and soon after he went back to his own people, the gypsies and Sir Richard provided for the wife and two children he left behind. Namely Jack and myself.’

  Sarah was so stunned at the news that Jack and Isobel were not only brother and sister but twins, that for several minutes she was unable to speak. So this then was why Robert had referred to Jack as a gypsy. Looking now at Isobel she recognised the same dark colouring the brother and sister shared.

  She realised she was staring and blushed at her rudeness. That explains everything, she thought. But it was far from all there was to explain.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Robert’s name was never mentioned over the following days for which Sarah was profoundly grateful. The conversation at dinner on the third night tended towards politics, when Sarah discovered that Sir William as well as being a magistrate was an active member of parliament. A grave problem at present appeared to be the presence of French spies in the south coast countryside.

  ‘Why only the other day one of these wretches was caught not eight miles from here with secret documents for Wellington himself.’

  A low murmur ran around the table for six guests had joined them for dinner. A bluff red-faced man of the cloth and his silent wife. A quiet demur little man who professed to being a man of letters with a busy body of a wife, and Etienne and Francine Lebret who were a rather glamorous pair, handsome, intelligent and witty as they kept everyone entertained.

  When the ladies left the dining-hall and were once again in the drawing-room, the glamorous Francine came to sit by Sarah and engage her in conversation.

  ‘Isobel tells me you are the niece of Charlotte Littlejohn. We owe much to your aunt.’

  ‘You are acquainted with my aunt, Madame.’

  ‘Oh yes, we met in Paris when times were very hard for my husband and myself. With your aunt’s help we came to England and while it was still a struggle we made friends and prospered. Today we are the neighbours of Sir William and Lady Isobel a short distance only to Castleton Court, where you must visit with us during your stay.’

  Her smile shone with genuine warmth and the conversation turned to more mundane matters until the return of the men.

  * * *

  The following morning the sun shone and it was decided that they would all venture out for a ride in the countryside. ‘To show our new guest the wonders of Hampshire,’ William declared.

  Jack surprised Sarah with his knowledge of the countryside and soon they were deep in conversation. Isobel and William joined in and all were in a jolly mood when the carriage bowled down a narrow lane and came to stop on a hill top above a shallow valley.

  An old stone house of large generous proportions stood in the centre of the valley behind a crumbling wall. The house looked sad and neglected, the overgrown creepers curtaining shadowed windows. Weed
s encroached everywhere and in the cobbled yard behind the house was a broken wagon its shafts pointing forlornly at the sky.

  Silence had fallen upon the party. In the sky overhead a curlew called and Sarah gave a sudden shiver.

  ‘Are you cold, Sarah?’ Isobel asked solicitly.

  ‘No thank you, only it seems such a sad place for there is no life here.’

  ‘True,’ Sir William spoke thoughtfully. ‘It could be returned to its former glory, a rather large task however, for it has many years of neglect to make up, even if you could persuade the owner to return.’

  ‘Who is the owner, Sir?’

  ‘Why my dear child, don’t you know. This is Robert’s birthright. Only of course it was in much better condition when he came to it ten years ago. Unfortunately the countryside holds no attraction for him.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Young people today want only the excitement of the city.’

  Sarah turned aside so that the company would not see her distress. On crossing to the carriage she looked up to find Jack’s dark gaze following her. She shrugged it off but added little to the conversation on the way home. Had Robert intended bringing her to this place after their marriage, surely not, perhaps he intended them to live in town until Charlotte’s money became available then to use it to restore the house here in Hampshire.

  Yes, she was sure that was what he intended. But, what if she was not to be Charlotte’s heir, what then was to be their future?

  Back at the house she kept a cool air about her, she was no fool, she knew now that the picnic had been but an excuse to show her Robert in a bad light. But she would not be brow beaten into making a decision about his proposal until she had spoken to him again.

  Jack left the next morning promising to return in three days time to escort her back to London.

  ‘I am sure we will fare very well without you,’ Isobel told him with laughter in her voice. They stood on the steps of the house waving him off, Isobel’s arm draped around Sarah’s waist.

  ‘Take good care of her Bel, until my return,’ Jack called then wheeling the large bay stallion he rode off down the drive towards the iron gates and out of sight.

  The day before Jack was due to return, Sarah and Isobel set out to pay a visit to Castleton Court and the Lebrets.

  The house was smaller than its name suggested but set in a lovely situation settled into the Downs with its back to the sea. Francine made them very welcome but excused her husband who was away on business.

  They chatted comfortably for a short while then Sarah asked, ‘Do you not miss your homeland, Madam?’

  Francine bowed her head and said, ‘This is my homeland now. Though to be truthful we are not yet accepted in every house.’ She smiled then and offered them Madeira and little cakes.

  But Sarah caught the bitterness Francine tried to hide and wondered what she thought of the French defeat at Talavera and all the praise heaped on Arthur Wellesley.

  On their way home, Sarah questioned Isobel as to what profession Monsieur Lebret followed, but Isobel was not forthcoming, merely shrugging her shoulders and professing not to know.

  Sarah had enjoyed her three days at Corby Manor and was sorry to be leaving when Jack rode up the drive on the morning of the fourth day. The weather had turned dull and a nasty wind whipped the tree tops and unsettled the horses as they set out for London.

  They had gone for some considerable distance when, with a loud crack, an overhead branch fell across the horses’ backs terrifying them. Sarah hung tightly on to the carriage as it swung precariously from side to side as the half crazed animals tried to rid themselves of the entangled branch.

  Jack fought to keep control and at last they responded and stood shivering at the roadside but not before the carriage’s rear wheel had wedged itself fast between two rocks. To pull forward Jack explained would be to break the wheel so he must get down and dislodge it himself. To do this he must ask her to hold the reins of the quivering nervous animals.

  Sarah nodded her acceptance and taking the reins from his fingers kept them still but firm in her grasp.

  Jack jumped down from the carriage and going around to the horses’ heads talked quietly to them. Then he inspected their legs for any harm they may have come to before glancing under the carriage to make sure all of the branch was gone after which he came back to the wheel. Still talking quietly to the horses he manhandled the wheel. ‘It will be difficult to move. Hold fast,’ he told Sarah, and there was a great heave as the carriage jolted forward.

  The horses’ heads came up and their feet stamped the ground impatiently wanting to be away. Sarah held on and Jack left the wheel and jumped for the carriage, plucking the reins from her hands when he was seated.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, as he let the horses have their heads. All was not however well, as within a short space of time the creaking wheel began to wobble and, afraid of losing it altogether, Jack decided that they must stop on the road to repair it.

  Half-an-hour later they came to a small village. Here they found a hostelry and someone to repair the wheel.

  ‘The wheel is going to take time to repair so I have bespoke a room here for us for the present,’ he said escorting Sarah into the dingy interior of ‘The Hoof And Claw.’ The back room they were shown into was clean but bare and Jack after a quick glance around ordered chairs to replace the two stools by the fire and a small table from which they may take a drink and a bite to eat.

  The landlord scurried off to do his bidding and Jack used his boot to stir the embers in the fire creating fresh sparks. When the chairs arrived Sarah sat down with a sigh and held her hands out to the flames.

  Somewhere shutters were banging in the wind and every now and again a gust of smoke puffed out from the chimney.

  ‘I dare say the wheelwright will not be long.’ Sarah spoke without looking up at Jack who was pacing back and forth across the room.

  The landlord arrived followed by a draught of cold air. He placed cider and a platter of sliced ham, some cheese and a piece of stale looking bread on the table. He began to make excuses for the meagre fare, but Jack dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

  ‘A drink?’

  Sarah thanked him and he handed her a mug of mulled cider.

  ‘The cheese looks edible and perhaps a little ham.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  A sudden burst of noise heralded the agitated landlord. ‘Beg pardon, sir, but would you allow another gentleman to share your fire, sir. He is most insistent he will not share the tap room, sir.’

  ‘Oh show him in . . .’ Before he had time to finish however a man pushed his way into the room in a swirl of capes.

  ‘Knew you wouldn’t mind, can’t possibly ask a gentleman to wait in a tap room. Oh, Edgeworth.’ His voice dropped to a normal lisp. ‘How odd bumping into a fellow in this hovel.’ Then he looked beyond Jack and his glance lighted on Sarah.

  ‘I say it’s Robert’s . . .’

  ‘Miss Littlejohn to you.’

  Thomas Canning gaped, then making an exaggerated bow to Sarah said, ‘Forgive me please, had I known I would never have dreamt of intruding.’

  Sarah bowed her head in response. ‘Mr Canning please be seated, you do not intrude we are merely awaiting the wheelwright to repair our carriage.’

  In a great arranging of his clothing he sat down in the chair opposite Sarah while keeping one eye on Jack, who stood with his back to the fire and watched them with a lazy amused gaze.

  ‘Do you frequent this inn often, Mr Canning,’ Jack asked.

  ‘No, not at all, merest chance. On my way to Brighton, meet a friend, don’t you know.’

  Jack’s eyebrows rose. ‘Round about way to Brighton?’

  ‘Ah yes, well visiting in the area. Two for the price of one don’t you know.’

  He shuffled uncomfortably and tweaked the frilly cuffs that flared from the sleeves of his jacket before fingering the lace at his throat.

  As the afternoon lengthened Jack left t
o see what was keeping their carriage only to return in a filthy temper after being told that the wheelwright had been called away and wouldn’t be back until morning.

  ‘Dreadful bad luck,’ simpered Canning, ‘to have to spend the night here.’

  ‘How did you arrive, Canning?’

  ‘Horseback my dear fellow, but I dare say there is some kind of conveyance available for hire.’

  With a smirk he swept Sarah a low bow and left the room.

  Jack went off to see what he could hire to convey them to London. The stormy day had given way to an early evening when Jack returned.

  ‘I’m afraid, Sarah, we are going to have to make the best of it. There’s not a decent contraption to be found.

  ‘I have spoken with the landlord and we are to dine here while his wife prepares a room upstairs for yourself. My apologies of course, but it is the best I can do under the present circumstances.’

  Sarah glanced up at the dark angry face and nodded her acceptance of the situation.

  ‘It cannot be helped.’

  They ate a thin soup, roast chicken with the remains of the cold ham and a selection of vegetables.

  The noise from the tap room increased as the evening wore on and eventually the landlady came to say Sarah’s room was ready.

  ‘Where are you to sleep?’ she asked Jack.

  ‘I shall do very well down here.’

  Sarah cast a swift glance around the bare room with its miserable fire, a handful of stools and the two wooden chairs and the little table Jack had demanded earlier.

  ‘But there is nothing to sleep on.’

  His mouth gave a sudden curl as he said, ‘The floor is dry and there is a roof over my head, I have slept with less.’

  Giving him a curious look she said, ‘Then I bid you goodnight sir.’

  Noon the next day found them back in Beverly Square. France fell on Jack the moment he set foot over the threshold.

  ‘Madam is in the morning room, sir, good morning Miss, if I could have a word, sir.’