As Shadows Haunting

by Deryn Lake

  “She doesn’t look like a ghost to me,” Sarah answered. “In fact she seems more startled than I am.”

  “Did you lose her in the snow?”

  “Yes, she vanished from sight.”

  “That proves it,” said Charles triumphantly. “The woman is a phantom; the ghost of Holland House.”

  “Oh, you,” said Sarah, ruffling his hair.

  *

  The snow lasted for a fortnight and then cleared away dramatically, almost overnight, revealing early spring flowers. It was now the end of January and Charles James, delayed from returning to Eton by the treacherous roads, set off in merry fig, waving goodbye as his coach disappeared down the elm drive, leaving Holland House quieter and a great deal more calm. Ste, who had given up school a year earlier after a severe illness, now set off with his tutor to do the Grand Tour, so that only young Harry, aged six, remained to keep the older people amused. In this suddenly still atmosphere it was a relief to go to St James’s Palace for a Drawing Room.

  Strangely, even before she set out, Sarah had a feeling of unease. Her last meeting with the King had been so perfect, so exciting, in a way so provocative, that now she faced this next with a certain nervousness, fearing, perhaps, that George might have reconsidered his feelings, might have taken offence with hindsight at her forthright statement about his mother, the Princess of Wales. Appearing composed but with her emotions actually in turmoil, Sarah left Holland House with her family, only for disaster to befall on the way.

  Hyde Park, a notorious haunt of highwaymen, had to be traversed on the route as it was. And sure enough as the coach rumbled through on its way to St James’s, two figures emerged from the trees and headed straight for the Fox equipage. Hawkins began to slow the horses but Fox would have none of it. Leaning out of the window he fired a warning shot from the pistol he always carried with him.

  “Henry, for the love of God be careful,” screamed Caroline. “You’ll get killed.”

  “Not I,” Fox answered stoutly. “Hawkins, speed up. I’ll keep ’em at bay.”

  Bullets were whizzing through the air but with the aid of the postillion, also armed as a security measure, the villains were beaten off and disappeared as quickly as they had come.

  “There,” said Fox, blowing the barrel to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. “One has to stand up to these bastardly gullions. Damme, if I’ll give in to ’em.”

  “You’re very brave,” Susan and Sarah chorused admiringly, though Henry’s wife continued to look daggers, afraid, obviously, that he might have been shot for his pains.

  This excitement delayed their arrival by some thirty minutes and it was in this way that the family missed the receiving line entirely and found the Drawing Room already in progress when they arrived. Trying to look unconcerned, Sarah stared round for the King, thinking to see him talking with, perhaps, one of the older gentlemen. Yet in this she was to be disappointed; George was in deep conversation with Lady Caroline Russell, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, as sly a little baggage as ever saw the light of day.

  “’Sblood!” exclaimed Sarah beneath her breath and from behind her fan studied her rival closely.

  Caroline Russell was small, neat and fair, somewhat dull of feature except for her nose which was large. However, her eyes were pleasant, a greyish blue, set slantingly above arched cheekbones. She had a winsome way with her too, and laughed delicately at everything His Majesty had to say, which was quite a lot judging by the animated way he held forth. Furthermore, a sideways glance at the Duchess of Bedford, who patently glowed with triumph, indicated that this conversation had been going on most of the evening and showed no sign of coming to an end.

  “Oh dear,” said Susan close to Sarah’s ear.

  Her friend shrugged a delicate shoulder. “If that is what pleases him.”

  “He probably got buttonholed, poor fellow.”

  “But is making no particular effort to escape it would seem.”

  They could converse privately no more as at that moment Fox launched himself into a circle, currently clustered round Lord Shelbourne, and began a spirited description of the excitements of his recent journey.

  “La, Fox, you’re always in hot water,” drawled a familiar voice on the edge of the listeners and both Caroline and Sarah looked up in delight to see that their brother, George Lennox, younger than Caroline but seven years older than Sarah, had not only been invited to the reception but was there ahead of them.

  “My dear,” said his elder sister, drawing George to one side and kissing him. “This is a pleasure to be sure. I had no idea you were coming tonight.”

  “Neither had I,” her brother answered quietly. “The decision lay, as always, with her Ladyship.”

  And with a twitch of his brows he indicated his wife, Louisa.

  “Still the same?” whispered Caroline.

  “God bless her, so she is. A determined little woman, that one.”

  With a certain amusement Sarah looked over to where Lady Louisa Lennox, known as Lady George, was obviously putting the world to rights, holding forth to a handful of women all of whom looked decidedly bored.

  She was a plump waspish creature who, none the less, considered herself extremely desirable to men, having a highly overrated opinion of her charms. Not tall and decidedly buxom, Louisa had black hair and sharp matching eyes which missed nothing. Sarah was both repelled and fascinated by her but maintained a show of cordiality for her brother’s sake.

  “Ah, Lady Caroline, Lady Sarah,” Louisa called now, seeing the sisters look in her direction. “How very nice. How are you both?”

  Rather reluctantly, they went to join her, Susan very sensibly remaining with Fox and Lord George.

  “Such gay company,” Louisa burbled on, not waiting for their reply. “The King seems most taken with Bedford’s gal, what? That’ll put my brother’s foot out of stirrup.”

  She smiled triumphantly in the way of all good gossips. “Your brother?” said Caroline, not following her drift.

  “Newbattle,” Louisa answered enigmatically.

  “Lord John?” asked Sarah, getting a glimmer of daylight. “Did I not meet him once in Kensington?”

  Louisa turned a delighted smile on her. “The very same. Quite the most handsome creature in the universe, did you not think? La, but he’s a wicked fellow. Why, my brother has broken more hearts this season alone than most men do in a lifetime.”

  Caroline’s angular features presented a mask of bewilderment and Sarah felt an overwhelming desire to giggle.

  “But what has that to do with Caroline Russell?”

  “He’s set his cap at her, so he has. Decided she was the best catch I dare say,” Louisa added in an undertone. “But now his ace has been trumped. For who could compete with the most eligible bachelor in the world?”

  Looking over to where the King still conversed with the Duke of Bedford’s daughter, oblivious of the fact that she, Sarah, had so much as arrived, the girl felt a cruel pang of jealousy that demanded action.

  “Did you say your brother was here, dear Lady George?”

  “Yes, over there, surrounded by gals as usual.”

  Sarah followed her sister-in-law’s eyes and recognised at once the young man whom she had met when out walking in the grounds of Kensington Palace.

  Lord Newbattle was certainly handsome in a Greek youth type of way, Sarah thought, his hair curling and dark as Louisa’s, though there the similarity ended for her brother’s eyes were blue and his features blandly babyish. He was obviously one of those young people who compensated for a singular lack of intelligence by smiling a lot and leaning heavily upon his charm.

  “I would so like to meet him,” said Sarah, fluttering her lashes.

  Louisa immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, being far from as shrewd as she liked to pretend.

  “And so you shall, dear Lady Sarah.” She raised her voice. “John, if you would step this way. There is someone to whom I would like to
present you.”

  Very aware that the King had finally looked up and was staring in her direction, Sarah swept one of her special curtseys as the pretty youth joined the group and bowed before her.

  “Lady Sarah,” he said huskily, “we meet again.”

  “Lord Newbattle, it really is most pleasant to renew acquaintanceship.”

  “Most,” he answered, smiling. “May I escort you to supper?”

  “I can think of nothing nicer.”

  And Sarah flirted her way past the King, to whom she dropped a deferential but distant curtsey, as she went out of the room.

  “And that is sauce for the goose,” she murmured triumphantly as George stared helplessly after her, Lady Caroline Russell obviously forgotten.

  “You said something?” enquired John Newbattle.

  “Did I mutter? I did not mean to. La, it must be a sign of age.”

  “I would not imagine you to be possessed greatly of that, Lady Sarah.”

  She sparkled at him prettily. “I am a few weeks off my sixteenth birthday. And you, my Lord?”

  “Twenty, Madam.”

  “And betrothed to Lady Caroline Russell if rumour serves me correctly.”

  The handsome face flushed. “Rumour serves you wrong, Lady Sarah. I am unattached.”

  Her smile grew mysterious. “But you have a fondness for her?”

  “A fondness, yes.”

  It was enough, the challenge had been issued. To Sarah’s budding emotions, full of hurt pride that the King had ignored her for another, another whose sweetheart was now gazing down at her, Sarah, with obvious interest, it instantly became a game — a game in which the prize was John, Lord Newbattle, the prettiest man in London, the man who up till now had loved and left every girl who had crossed his path.

  “Frankly I think fondness dull,” said Lady Sarah languidly. “For me only passion counts.”

  “Passion,” answered Lord Newbattle, “is something I know little about.”

  “With a friend like Lady Caroline Russell,” came the sharp reply, “I am hardly surprised to hear that, my good Sir.”

  And with that the little minx gave him a small but unmistakable wink.

  Chapter Six

  In common with most empty-headed young men with little to commend them other than their fair features, John William Newbattle, son and heir to the Earl of Ancram, had an excellent eye for the main chance and a ruthless tenacity when it came to achieving it. Once having decided that an alliance with the Duke of Richmond’s sister might be even better than a marriage with Bedford’s daughter, and that Sarah Lennox was far more beautiful than Caroline Russell into the bargain, there was no holding the young man. He pursued the new object of his affections with an unwavering resolve which, in its way, was admirable.

  From the very evening when they met, letters began to arrive at Holland House begging to see Sarah. And so it was that she started a series of daily walks in the grounds, meeting him where the park bordered on the main road from London to Uxbridge, which lay beyond The Wilderness and beyond the fields known as the Great Breaches. It was here, in the privacy of the woods, that Sarah experienced her first kiss and could not believe the wild breathless sensations it aroused in her. The blood of Charles II and his French mistress ran strongly in the girl. She was fiery with passion and the pretty lordling, who had already claimed a few virgin ladies for trophies, played her like a fish on a line.

  Added to all this excitement was the thrill of creeping out of the house, coupled with the spicy feeling that she was stealing Caroline Russell’s beloved from under her very nose, paying Bedford’s daughter back in her own coin for having monopolised the King’s attention. Yet perversely, His Majesty himself, her other admirer, was temporarily forgotten in the whirlwind of Sarah’s first romance.

  “You are in no circumstances to behave like a woman of doubtful character,” Susan admonished her friend sternly. “Once a reputation is gone it is gone for good.”

  “I’m too afraid to let John step over the mark. Oh but, Susan, he is so handsome and lively. I do love him so.”

  “Handsome is as handsome does in my view. And what about the King? Why, only a few weeks ago it was he who was all the rage.”

  Sarah smiled secretively. “I’ll be honest with you. This affair started as a caprice, a whim to discomfort that horrid Caroline Russell. But when John kissed me, when he held me in his arms —”

  “Oh stop it, do!” Susan interrupted crossly. “You sound like the heroine of a paltry romance.”

  “You only say that because you’re jealous.”

  “Of John Newbattle? Don’t make me laugh. I prefer men to boys.”

  And with that the usually mild-mannered Susan Fox-Strangeways had swept from the room. Yet angry though she was with her friend’s arrant foolishness it was not Susan who betrayed Sarah’s secret to Henry Fox. Rather it was the Paymaster himself, out exercising round his estate, who caught a glimpse of the erring couple entwined in a kiss and rode home in a cold fury, throwing his riding crop to the floor as he walked into his wife’s sitting room.

  “Where is Sarah?” he thundered in a voice that Caroline knew presaged trouble.

  She looked up from her book, trying to stay calm. “Out walking. Why do you ask?”

  “Because,” bellowed Fox, “I want to know your complicity in her sordid affair.”

  “What sordid affair?” repeated his wife, rising to her feet, her feathers just beginning to ruffle.

  “I speak of her liaison with Newbattle. I’ve seen them just now, over in the far plantation, kissing like farm hands. By God, Caro, I’ve a mind to take my whip to that young puppy. He’s vain, inglorious, insignificant, and a fly in the poxing ointment. What the devil can she see in him?”

  Caroline sat down heavily. “I can’t think! She must have taken leave of her senses. Oh, good heavens, what a coil! I’ll have words with that young woman.”

  “You’ll have words? I’ll have ’em if you don’t mind, Madam. I’m master in this house and will be listened to.”

  He had not been in such a fury for years and when, some thirty minutes later, there came the distant sound of the opening and closing of the great front door, Caroline positively trembled as Fox strode from her room, shouting, “Bring your sister to me immediately, if you please,” and headed for his study. Torn between fury over Sarah’s crass stupidity and a dread certainty that a monumental family quarrel was about to begin, Caroline rushed to the entrance hall to find Sarah already climbing the main staircase.

  Normally very reserved, Caroline suddenly erupted at the sight of her sister’s smug little face.

  “Sarah Lennox, come here at once,” she called in a tone of voice that Sarah had literally never heard before. “How dare you creep upstairs like a thief? Mr Fox wants to see you straightaway.”

  The girl went pale. “Why?”

  “You may well ask. Your secret is unmasked. You have been seen sporting with your lover and now you must face the consequences.”

  “Who saw me?”

  “Mr Fox himself. You have abused our hospitality, Sarah, by engaging in this squalid intrigue. Newbattle is a known rake, a debauchee.” Caroline stopped as a thought struck her. “He has not robbed you of —?”

  “No, no,” answered her sister, dramatically bursting into tears. “He has behaved like a gentleman throughout.”

  “A fine kind of gentleman,” snorted Caroline, a rare sound for her, “who lures my sister out of doors to make love to her. Why does he not have the decency to call?”

  “Because his parents believe him spoken for.”

  “And so he is. Now come with me. Mr Fox will brook no further delay.”

  And with that the older woman took the younger firmly by the arm and marched her to where Fox waited, sitting behind his desk, his face ashen with rage.

  “You are a fool,” he said, as Sarah walked through the door. “In fact I have never met a greater in all my years in parliament — and that is saying s
omething, believe me!”

  “Why am I a fool to fall in love when all the world does so?” his sister-in-law replied with a desperate attempt at spirit.

  Fox made a contemptuous noise. “It is not the act of falling in love, girl, it is with whom you choose to do so that is the art of life. Newbattle is an empty-headed ass, not ugly, quite lively, I grant you that, but a known ladies’ man. He don’t love you, Sal, he loves the challenge of you.”

  “And what do you mean by that, Sir?”

  “I mean that you represent the unobtainable. The Beauty of London, everyone’s darling and quite obviously the King’s current favourite. To a puff of wind like that boy you must be the ultimate prize.”

  “At least he has declared himself which is more than His Majesty has done.”

  Fox went purple before Sarah’s eyes. “Christ’s mercy, am I brother to an idiot? For a king to make a declaration thus is a matter of state. He is not free to propose without reference. Begone to your room, Sal. The sight of you is causing me to tremble.”

  The girl dropped a small curtsey and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” thundered her brother-in-law. “Hear this and hear it well before you go. From henceforth Newbattle is forbidden to set foot in this house or its grounds. Furthermore you are prohibited from communicating with or seeing him again. If you disobey me in this I shall despatch you to your brother at Goodwood away from all mischief. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Very well.” His tone softened. “Sal, I beg of you not to throw yourself away on someone unworthy. You have too much beauty, too much brain, to squander your splendour on a wastrel.”

  His sister-in-law did not answer but merely raised her chin as she walked through the door. But once outside, the tears came, gushing and warm, stinging her eyes as she rushed up the stairs and into the privacy of her bedroom.

  “I’ll not be told what to do,” she muttered furiously. “Fox is only angry because of his own monstrous ambition. It is the King who is trifling with me, not John, if he did but know it.”