Alethea sighed. ‘We’ve had this conversation before, Lydia. I wish you will understand that I haven’t the faintest desire to have a flirtation with any man, least of all with Beau Devenish.’ She invested the name with scorn. ‘To my mind, flirtations are stupid indulgences of vanity at best, and at worst they are a contemptible travesty of feelings which should be deep and sincere. By what right does any man so misuse his manhood — or woman her womanhood, for that matter — as to entrap some unwary member of the opposite sex with false protestations and hypocritical attentions? I tell you I will have no part in so despicable an artifice!’
Lydia looked at her in astonishment for a moment. ‘Here’s a pother,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘I can’t help feeling, you know, that some of what you said was to my address.’
‘If the cap fits,’ retorted Alethea, still feeling angry.
‘Well, perhaps it may,’ said Lydia, in a miserable tone. ‘I have been encouraging Vivyan, I’ll grant you that. But —’
She paused for a few moments, while Alethea said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
‘Oh, how I wish I could have gone with him to this Masquerade!’ exclaimed Lydia at last, striding up and down the room in frustration. ‘Do you know, I almost decided to creep away and hire a chaise to take me back to Town so that I could go, after all? When I came here, I certainly had some such scheme in mind, for I was as mad as fire with Mama and determined to disobey her, by hook or by crook.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t — it would have caused an upheaval! But what made you change your mind, may I ask?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Lydia shrugged again. ‘It would have been so tiresome to arrange, for one thing. There was the chaise to be hired secretly, and then I would have needed to take a maid, and she might have blurted out the plan; and then I would have had to take you into my confidence to concoct some tale for Eleanor, and then my brother-in-law might have found out, and that would have meant no end of a fuss. No!’ she finished, explosively, ‘I just couldn’t face the endless tedium of arranging it all — nothing in the world can be worth so much effort! Only I don’t see why Mama should have everything her own way, and the sooner I am married and quit of her interference, the better!’
‘You will have a husband’s interference then,’ Alethea reminded her.
‘Oh, I could manage a husband,’ said Lydia, confidently.
‘I wonder? They are not near so obliging as suitors,’ laughed Alethea. ‘“Men are April when they woo, December when they wed”, as Shakespeare tells us.’
‘Poetry again! I tell you what it is, Alethea — you’ve a deal of knowledge conned from books, but you’ll find it won’t help you when it comes to dealing with situations in real life,’ said Lydia, scathingly.
Alethea sobered. ‘You may be right. But why don’t we take a stroll in the park, Lydia? The exercise will help to draw off some of your spleen.’
‘No, I don’t feel like walking, and, anyway, it’s too odiously hot today. You go, if you want to. I’d rather be on my own, at present — I’m in no mood for company, and shall only quarrel with you.’
Alethea went, not sorry to be quit of her cousin in this present mood. There would be little pleasure in a solitary walk, so she decided to go for a ride instead. As she made her way to the stables, she noticed how oppressive the atmosphere had become and almost turned back to sit indoors; but the thought of having to put up with Lydia’s sulks was too much for her.
‘Shouldn’t be surprised, Miss, if we don’t get a storm coming up afore long,’ said Perkins as he saddled the mare. ‘Was ye thinking of going far?’
‘Oh, no, only a few miles or so along the lanes,’ she answered. ‘I shan’t need a groom.’
Perkins raised his bushy eyebrows at this, but he was too well trained to question it. Miss was used to riding, as anyone could see who had watched her on horseback; and being a country bred young lady, no doubt, she was accustomed to riding out alone when she was going only short distances. So he stared after her as Dulcetta clattered merrily away over the cobbles of the yard and down the drive, thinking how trim and pretty the mare’s rider looked and what a pleasant young lady she was.
The drive was lined with chestnut trees which sheltered Alethea from the fierceness of the sun’s rays until she reached the gates which led into the lane. Here the heat seemed to strike her with the force of a blow. She hesitated for a moment, thinking that her cousin had been right in saying the afternoon was too hot for exercise out of doors. Perhaps she ought to go back. But apart from the unattractive prospect of returning to Lydia’s company, her conscience would prick her for putting Perkins to the trouble of saddling the mare all for nothing. She shrugged, and turned into the lane.
She had gone only a short distance along it, though in some discomfort from the heat, when she saw that not far ahead lay a wood stretching beside the road. She decided to make this her objective; the mere sight of its green branches made her feel cooler already.
When she reached the wood and turned thankfully into its shade, however, she found that even here the air was still heavy and oppressive. Not so much as the ghost of a breeze disturbed the foliage. There really was no bearing this sultry atmosphere; she would ride just a little way into the wood, and then return home. Perhaps already Lydia had recovered her temper. If not, they must try to keep out of each other’s way.
Her thoughts strayed from Lydia to the events of the past two days, showing a regrettable tendency to dwell on Beau Devenish. Every conversation they had shared was reviewed and subjected to a searching scrutiny. Looking for what? Alethea asked herself sharply, and from then on she made a determined effort to shut him out. Surprisingly, this seemed even more exhausting than her former preoccupation with the subject. Every new train of thought seemed to lead back to him in the end. She felt out of all patience with herself.
A distant rumble of thunder recalled her sharply to her surroundings. She reined in Dulcetta and turned to look back in the direction of the lane she had left. There was no sign of it; she seemed to be deep in the wood. She looked anxiously about her, then saw that the path she was now following was much narrower than the one by which she had entered the wood. In her abstraction, she must have strayed from the bridle path on to a side track — indeed she might have followed several. She had no notion which way she had turned, or what direction to take now in order to reach the lane.
She was lost.
Chapter VIII
For a while she circled about looking for the bridle path; or, if not that, for a wider track than the one she was at present following, one which would appear well used enough to indicate that it led out of the wood. When this proved unavailing, she halted the mare, considering what to do.
A wood was certainly not the best place to choose for being caught in a thunderstorm. She must get out of it as soon as possible. But would she manage this more quickly by continuing along her present path, or by making some attempt to retrace her route she had taken? Going back would not be easy, for she had no idea how much she might have changed direction in reaching this point. Her thoughts had been elsewhere. To continue on the present track, though, might only carry her still deeper into the wood. To her anxious gaze, it looked equally dense on either side.
She must make some decision, she told herself; and so she applied her own particular maxim that it was always preferable to go forward rather than back. Urging the lethargic Dulcetta to a smarter pace, she continued on the path she had been following.
By now, the sky had become overcast with thunder clouds, plunging the wood into stygian gloom. Alethea felt an oppression of spirits that matched the atmosphere. In spite of her country upbringing, she had never liked thunderstorms; they unnerved her, and to be lost in a wood, alone, while a storm was brewing had for her a nightmare quality. She had more than her share of commonsense, but underneath her control she could feel the faint stirrings of panic. It was not an agreeable sensation.
Low rumblings of t
hunder continued, though still in the distance, while she guided Dulcetta along the path and peered anxiously through the gathering gloom for any sign of a wider track. Presently she came to a narrow path going off at right angles to the one she was following. She checked for a moment, undecided which to take. Never change horses in mid-stream, she reminded herself; smiling wanly at the absurdity of trying to follow any advice offered by proverbs, as all too often it was conflicting. Nevertheless, she did keep to her present path.
The thunder was creeping nearer now, like an imprisoned giant shaking off its shackles. A thin flicker of distant lightning momentarily relieved the gloom of the wood. Alethea shivered, urging Dulcetta to a canter. The horse responded, laying back its ears; it, too, seemed to be affected by the approaching storm, for once or twice it quivered. Every time this happened, Alethea felt her panic rising. She gritted her teeth and fought it down.
After a short distance, the track bent round in another direction; and there before her at last lay the bridle path which she had so far sought in vain. Her spirit lifted. She had only to follow this, and it must lead her out of the wood.
Then they sank again as she realised that there was no way of knowing in which direction to follow it. To right or to left? A closer rumble of thunder made her decide hastily, and she turned right. She set Dulcetta at the gallop, hoping fervently that the ground would be even enough to safeguard the animal from a stumble. Her one compelling thought now was to get out of the wood before the storm was upon her in full force.
It seemed unlikely that she would manage to do this, for the trees showed no sign of thinning; while the thunder rolled even nearer, accompanied by periodic flashes of sheet lightning. Panic threatened her once more.
She was so occupied in grappling with it that at first she failed to hear the soft thud of hoofbeats approaching from somewhere on her right. When the sound at length did penetrate her consciousness, it brought with it added fears. Who could be abroad in this gloomy, deserted wood in such wild weather? It might be a highwayman, or some cutthroat felon.
A horse and rider suddenly loomed up before her on the path. A thin scream, which she tried too late to stifle, left her lips. Her trembling hands tugged at Dulcetta’s rein, causing the frightened mare to rear so that its rider was almost thrown.
In what seemed one movement, the other rider flung himself from his horse and rushed to her side, gripping her firmly about the waist with his left arm while he forced Dulcetta’s head down with his right. Seeing that Alethea, though scared, was still firmly in the saddle, he released her and gave his attention to quietening the horse. It was only then that Alethea had time to realise that the rider whom she had thought so sinister was in fact Beau Devenish.
Under his firm, confident hand the mare soon settled. He gave the reins back to Alethea, staring at her with a deep frown on his brow.
‘What in God’s name are you doing here alone, Miss Newnham? Is something amiss at Roxeth Place? Lady Middleham — she is perhaps —?’
He let the question trail away as she shook her head. She could not answer him for the moment; she was still too shaken. A long tumbril sound of thunder rolled about them, followed by the most vivid flash of lightning yet. She started violently, and he put his hand on the rein again.
‘No, n-nothing’s wrong at the house.’ She choked back a sob. ‘I came out for a r-ride, and lost my way in this wood —’
He nodded, wasting no further time in explanations. ‘Do you think you can manage the mare a bit longer, ma’am? The wood adjoins my grandmother’s grounds — no distance now, if you can hold on.’
She nodded, keeping a firm grip on herself.
‘Yes — yes, I’ll be all right now. You — you startled me, and the storm —’
He swung himself back into the saddle and wheeled the horse to ride alongside Dulcetta.
‘We’ll take it fast,’ he said, in a voice very unlike his usual drawl. ‘The rain’s not far off, and I haven’t so much as a cloak to protect you.’
She was still shaken by her experiences and her fear of the storm, but everything seemed better now that he was beside her. They followed the track for a short distance and suddenly came to the edge of the wood and a high wall with a gate set in it. As he dismounted to open the gate and let her through a streak of lightning forked down the sky. Alethea jumped violently, and once again Devenish had to steady Dulcetta.
‘Not much farther now,’ he said, in an encouraging tone. ‘That drive leads up to the stables — we may just reach there in time.’
He closed the gate, remounted his horse, and galloped beside Alethea up the drive, one hand on Dulcetta’s rein.
As they reached the entrance to the stables, a clap of thunder like the crack of doom sounded above their heads. It was as though it had opened the skies; rain poured down relentlessly, hitting the cobbles of the yard and bouncing back.
Devenish emitted a loud whistle, and several grooms came running. One, brighter than the others, ran back into the harness room and returned with two large capes. Devenish, dismounted hurriedly, seized one of these and flung it over Alethea before lifting her bodily from the saddle. As he did so, the groom set the other cape about his master’s shoulders, but Devenish dragged most of it round Alethea as he ran with her into the harness room.
A couple of grooms who were working there moved unobtrusively away to another part of the stable, so that Devenish and Alethea had the place to themselves. He guided her to a bench against the wall and removed the cape which he had flung over her head and shoulders.
‘Are you very wet?’ he asked. ‘I fear your bonnet is ruined.’
She ran shaking hands over the sleeves and bodice of her gown. They were soaked through.
‘Yes, I — I am, but it d-doesn’t signify. My b-bonnet — I don’t care about that either —’
She broke off with a gasp, as another violent flash of lightning lit up the interior of the harness room with a ghastly light. Devenish seized a horse cloth and suspended it before the window from two hooks in the wall.
‘There, you won’t see much of it now,’ he said, gently. ‘Perhaps you’ll feel better.’
‘I c-can’t tell you how much I des-despise myself for such w-weakness,’ stammered Alethea.
‘Why should you? We all have our Achilles’ heel. And for a female you are very indomitable, you know. I must confess it’s almost a relief to discover that you have some maidenly shrinkings.’
She tried to laugh, but another thunder clap came just then which seemed to shake the whole building. She jumped distractedly to her feet and stood there, white faced and shaking.
For a second he hesitated. Then he placed an arm about her and led her back, unresisting, to the bench. Removing her limp and sodden bonnet and casting it aside, he seated himself beside her and drew her gently towards him so that her head rested on his shoulder. She allowed it to remain there, closing her eyes and giving a fluttering sigh.
‘There, now,’ he said, in a soothing tone. ‘Think that I’m your Papa or one of your brothers, or whoever it is you seek solace from at moments such as this. I undertake not to step out of the role.’
She knew that he spoke the truth, for his enfolding arms, though tender and protective, were not in the least loverlike. In that unexpected haven all her unreasoning fears were stilled. She uttered a deep, heartfelt sigh; relaxed, comforted, no longer conscious of the storm that still raged about them.
They sat there without further speech while the rain beat like drumsticks on the roof of their retreat. Gradually the fury of the storm abated; the lightning became less violent and the thunder rolled away into the distance, until at last it ceased altogether.
She stirred then, raising her head and looking into his eyes. A deep blush spread over her face. At once he removed his arms from about her and rose to his feet.
‘It’s over now,’ he said, in a brisk tone. He moved to the door and flung open the top section. ‘The rain will soon be over, too, I believe
. We must go up to the house and see if my grandmother can find you some dry garments. I trust you won’t take a chill.’
His deliberately matter-of-fact tones helped her to recover her poise. ‘Oh, no, I’m not in the least prone to chills. But I don’t wish to put Lady Carteret to any trouble —’
He seemed not to hear her. He was leaning on the lower part of the door, gazing out at the rainswept yard. After a moment, he roused himself and went off to speak to the grooms about a conveyance to take her up to the house.
It was almost an hour later that Alethea entered the small salon where Devenish’s grandmother was sitting.
‘Come and sit here, my dear. I think you’ll find this wing chair comfortable,’ invited Lady Carteret. ‘Did my maid manage to find you something to fit tolerably well? Ah, I see she did — a trifle on the ample side, perhaps, but it will serve you until you reach Roxeth Place, will it not?’
‘Thank you, ma’am, indeed it will,’ replied Alethea, as she seated herself. ‘You are very good, but I must not trespass too long upon your hospitality.’
‘At least you’ll stay long enough to take a dish of tea,’ said Lady Carteret. ‘The panacea for all evils, is it not? If you are not too fatigued for talking, perhaps you will like to tell me how you came to be in such a pickle as you were when James found you. How very fortunate that he should have taken the short cut through the wood after seeing that nice Allerton boy a little way on his road home!’ She smiled. ‘They are all boys to me, you know, Miss Newnham. At my age, it’s difficult to remember that the children one knew are now become men and women.’
The Beau and the Bluestocking: Romantic intrigue in Regency London Page 13
