by Carola Dunn
Tarpaulins were hurriedly spread over the heap of firewood, but knowledgeable farmers shook their heads and muttered:
“It be set in for sure . . .Won’t see sun agin afore middle o’ month . . . Hear tell as how it’s bin rainin’ like this over to Oxford nigh on a week . . .”
Undismayed, children continued to beg pennies for the guy. When the downpour ceased at noon on the fifth, they were ready, and a magnificent creation appeared, miraculously finding its way to the very top of the bonfire. No one knew for sure who had made it, and no one mentioned the fact out loud, but it bore a striking resemblance to the Prince Regent, his corpulence dressed in tattered purple and lavishly adorned with tarnished tinsel finery. Since the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, men had been jailed for less. Better to pretend one had not noticed.
The clouds remained threatening, but no rain fell. At five o’clock crowds began to gather, in a festive mood. Peddlers were selling parkin and gilt sweetmeats, and swarms of boys poked potatoes into the bottom of the woodpile, to be retrieved, hot and delicious, the next morning.
Geoff had borrowed a gig, to which he harnessed Mr. Fairfax’s resty pair. Mr. Fairfax felt sure he could walk the short distance to the merrymaking, but Hester overruled him, so he was helped in, and joined by Alice, who wished to observe the scene from a safe distance. Hester insisted on walking, to keep an eye on Rob and Susan. She made them promise to stay close beside her.
They reached the field just as a flaming torch was thrust to the base of the bonfire. It sputtered a bit, then caught, and flames soon flared up the dry wood in the centre. Mr. Fairfax, eager to see the guy before it charred, begged Jamie’s assistance and approached the fire. Geoff, to his disgust, was left guarding both the gig and Alice, who, seconded by Mr. Green, refused to move.
The huge bonfire roared and hissed, and the crowd gradually moved back, faces scorched. Suddenly the middle collapsed, Prinny dived to his fiery doom, and cheers and catcalls rose. Sparks were flying in all directions as the breeze eddied and veered. Susan pulled her hand from Hester’s and clapped it to her face.
“Hester, it burned me!” she cried.
Anxiously, Hester examined her sister’s forehead. There was no mark, and the pain had already subsided, but she decided it was time to leave. Parts of the crowd were growing rowdy, and groups of the more respectable citizens were picking their way homeward.
They reached the gig without incident, and Geoff set Susan beside Alice. Hester turned to help Robbie. There was no sign of him.
“Take the girls home at once,” she instructed Geoff. “I’ll find Rob and walk him back. I see Jamie and Mr. Fairfax over there. I expect they have seen him.”
“Shall I come back for Mr. Fairfax?” asked Geoff.
“Stay with Alice and Susan till I get home, then you can come back to fetch him.” She turned and hurried away, and the gig moved off.
Neither James nor Mr. Fairfax had seen Rob recently.
“I’ll help you look,” offered Jamie, “and tan his hide when I catch him, the little devil. Can you manage on your own for a few minutes, sir?”
“Of course. I am in fine fettle and quite ready to throw away my crutch and join the hunt.”
“Pray do not,” begged Hester, “for then I should have two to worry about.”
“I shall await you at this spot,” he promised.
They had scarcely left him when a cry arose above the general hubbub.
“The river’s rising! The Thames is in flood!”
There was a sudden silence, followed by complete chaos. Half the crowd swirled around, searching for missing relatives, friends, sweethearts. The other half stampeded for the only gap in the hedge on the townward side of the meadow. Shouts and screams rose above the crackle of the bonfire, whose flickering reddish light turned the scene into a vision of Hell.
Mr. Fairfax climbed atop the stump he had been seated on and tried to see the Godrics. On the far side of the field, firelight glinted on water where no water should be. The towpath was already submerged and, as he watched in horror, the river, meeting no resistance, poured over its banks and across the grass. Before he could move, the bonfire was being dispersed by the floodwaters and the last feeble light was nearly extinguished. A hand grasped his sleeve.
“I have Robbie, sir,” shouted Jamie, “and Hester is coming. I can’t help you.”
James was knee-deep in black water, and Robbie hung around his neck, his eyes alive with excitement. Beyond them Hester staggered, weighed down by her wet skirts, her white face standing out in the near darkness.
“Take Rob home,” snapped out Mr. Fairfax as he scrambled down from his perch. “We’ll manage.” His abandoned crutch floated away unnoticed. “Hester!” he called desperately as the last burning brand went out, plunging the meadow into night.
Currents swirled around his legs as he fought his way toward her. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw her close beside him. She was too exhausted to protest when he picked her up and holding her close in his arms, turned to make for the gate.
His heart singing, he strode through the icy water as if it were an open road. Hester clung to him trustfully, her head against his shoulder. For a timeless moment, they were alone, no thought of danger intruding; then willing hands urged them through the gate, and cheerful voices bade them hurry home and dry off.
“Think that be all now, Ted?” queried one.
“Din’t see no more, afore light went,” grunted Ted.
“Best wait a bit,” suggested another. “Here come Willy wi’ another torch.”
The lane was high and dry.
“Put me down, pray,” said Hester. “There’s no water here; I can walk. Think of your leg.”
“How can you say there is no water when you are dripping all over me?” Mr. Fairfax smiled down at her teasingly. “My leg is quite at your service, ma’am.” Ignoring her fading protests, he carried her home.
Chapter 9
Dr. Price was kept busy the next day. As always after the celebration of Guy Fawkes, there was a stream of small boys with burns, to which this year were added any number of bruises, cuts, twisted ankles, chills, and fevers. There were no serious injuries, however.
He found a moment to drop in on the Godrics, though they had not sent for him. Several patients had reported seeing Mr. Fairfax on his feet, and he was anxious to see what effect the exertion had had on the injured leg.
None of the Godrics were any the worse for the alarms of the evening, and Mr. Fairfax had offered his remaining crutch to Geoffrey as the foundation for a scarecrow. He paced up and down the parlour to demonstrate his total recovery to the physician.
“You see, Doctor, I have been an obedient patient, and I have my reward. And you shall have yours as soon as I am returned home and can set my affairs in order. No London bonesetter could have done a better job. I thank you with all my heart.”
“Indeed to goodness, lad, I do my best and it’s a pleasure to see a leg so nicely knit. I see no reason why you should not be on your way. Ye’ll not ride nor drive yourself for a sennight though. I expect ye’ve someone can fetch you, or the mail runs daily. May you arrive safely this time!”
Mr. Fairfax was eager to be gone. He had awakened at intervals throughout the night, teased by the fading remnants of dreams in which Hester always eluded his questing hands as he sought to rescue her from indistinct, nameless perils. Another week in her company would destroy his resolve. Away from her constant presence, he would surely regain his objectivity, and she would become a pleasant memory, a friend to whom he would always be grateful, and whom he would greet with a casual welcome when and if they met in town.
First thing in the morning, he wrote to Mr. Rugby. He would need Jerry to drive his curricle home, and, mindful of the long time rivalry between his two faithful servitors, he decided Southwell should accompany him. He would hire a chaise; it would never do to have his groom and valet arrive in his own travelling carriage with his coat of arms emblazon
ed on the doors in heraldic splendour. Two manservants would not give away his secret, and no mention need be made of a steward, two butlers, five or six footmen, a chef and various scullery boys, countless undergrooms and gardeners, a pair of housekeepers, and innumerable maids.
Henley was less than two-score miles from London, and Mr. Fairfax thought he should be able to leave by Saturday, though today was Thursday. Rob was dispatched with the letter before breakfast, so Barney would receive it the same day. His thoughts were already somewhat detached from his surroundings as he wondered which of his friends he might find in town, what had been going on in Hampshire during his absence, whether he would find himself fit enough to hunt after his long convalescence.
At breakfast he announced his imminent departure. There was a shocked silence, then bedlam. “You can’t sir; I haven’t rowed you on the river yet,” protested Rob.
“Must you go already?” asked Jamie wistfully. “I know you have been away from home a long time, but—”
‘Shall you drive the curricle?” interrupted Geoffrey. “I’ll see Fancy and Checkmate are well fed up and the carriage swept out.”
“I shall make some gingerbread for you to eat on the journey,” decided Susan.
“The house will seem horridly empty when you are gone,” murmured Alice, her eyes filled with tears.
Hester sat silent, her mind a blank.
The talk turned to the Godrics’ coming visit to the metropolis, and only Hester noticed that Mr. Fairfax made no promises to renew his acquaintance.
That afternoon, Jamie had his last Greek lesson. Afterwards, Mr. Fairfax gave him the address of Rugby, Rugby, Jones, and Rugby, and asked him to inform Mr. Barnabas Rugby when the family arrived in London.
“James,” he continued, “I hope you will understand how impossible I find it to express my gratitude for your hospitality these three months. I can find adequate words neither in English nor in Greek.”
“‘It is nothing,” disclaimed Jamie hurriedly, blushing. “Why, you know that Hester would have taken you in if you had been a dog with a thorn in its paw. I beg your pardon—that is not very flattering—but you know what I mean.’’
“I do indeed. She is the epitome of compassion. Take good care of her.”
“I shall try, sir. If only . . . no, it’s no use wishing. I’ll do my best.”
“Of that I am sure. Now I must go and make my adieux to Mr. Stevens. If I leave it to the last moment, something is bound to come up to prevent me.”
Mr. Stevens had already heard the news from Susan.
“Well, my lad,” he growled, “so ye’re all set to be off.”
“Yes, sir. I expect to leave on Saturday morning. I have no excuse to linger now that my leg is healed.”
“Ye’ll be glad to get back to your friends, I’ll warrant. ‘Tis hard on a young man to be cooped up wi’ women and childer.”
“I’ve not felt it so. I shall be leaving new friends as well as returning to old acquaintances. I am sorry to leave, but I cannot trespass any longer on your granddaughter’s generosity, and my estates will be in need of my presence. I’ve not been absent so long before.”
“We’ll miss ye, lad, there’s no doubt, but birds of a feather must flock together, as Mistress Ivy would say. Speaking of which, I dessay she’s been telling fearsome tales of drowning all day?’
“How right you are! I never should have dreamed one person could have so many relatives die a watery death.”
“It’s my belief she makes up half on ‘em, the old misery. Howsumdever, I’ve to thank ye for pulling our Hester from the river yesternight, by what I hear.”
“Merely an excuse to discard my crutch,” a slightly flushed Mr. Fairfax assured him. “I expect she would have managed quite well without me.”
“That been’t what I hear, but let that lie. I’ve been wondering if you’ll be seeing the family in London.”
Mr. Fairfax’s flush become more pronounced.
“If I am in town, I expect I shall be unable to avoid meeting Miss Alice in society. I can hardly cut her dead, and you cannot wish me to ignore the presence of the others.”
“Nay, lad. ‘Tis bound to come out one way or t’other. Happen it’ll not matter to Hester after a few months.”
“I’ll not force my company upon them. If they do not wish to see me, so be it. I am in their debt, not they in mine.”
The old man sighed. “Aye. I can see ye both standing on your dignity till the end o’ time. Ah well! A last game o’ draughts, m’lord?”
When Mr. Fairfax returned to the house after a game and a mug of ale, he found that his departure was no longer the sole subject of conversation. Rumours were flying that the Princess Charlotte had been brought to bed of a stillborn son and had died some hours later.
“And the Regent off shooting wi’ them Hertfords, and the good Queen away to Bath to take the waters,” reported Ivy. “All alone she were, the pore dear, wi’ that furriner as they married her to.”
“When was this?” demanded Mr. Fairfax.
“Last night, sir, as me cousin Jack’s wife’s nephew Bill do tell. He were at the White Hart when the stage come in. There were a fella on it as had spoke to a woman what knows one o’ the housemaids at Claremont. A crying shame, I calls it.”
Mr. Fairfax sat down at the kitchen table.
“The heir to the throne dead,” he murmured thoughtfully. “And Prinny’s brothers with not a legitimate child between them.” He sat for a few minutes in a brown study, unaware of the discussion around him.
“Who is the heir now, sir?” enquired Jamie. “The Duke of York.”
“Yes, the arch-Tory with the wife who prefers dogs to people. It is most fortunate that I am able to return to the capital. There will undoubtedly be questions in the . . . well, never mind. Geoffrey, might I have a word with you?”
“Yes, sir, of course. Do you want to come and look over Fancy and Checkmate?”
As they approached the shed for which the chestnuts had exchanged their commodious stables during the past three months, Mr. Fairfax pondered how to broach the delicate subject before him. The horses nuzzled up to him, and Geoff looked at him enquiringly.
“My servants will be bringing me some money,” he began abruptly. After all, he had chosen Geoff because of his straightforward nature. “I shall give you a sum to be conveyed to your brother and sister after my departure. My prolonged stay has certainly been a drain on their resources, but I do not expect them to admit as much, and rather than becoming involved in a dispute on the subject, I shall entrust the money to you.”
“What makes you think I will accept it if they would not?” cried Geoff hotly. “Just because—”
“Think a minute, Geoffrey. I do not mean to impugn your honour, nor your generosity, but the expense has not fallen upon your shoulders, and I hope you have enough sense to bend a little and do this for your sister’s sake.”
“Oh, very well, though I daresay they will both be ready to comb my hair with a joint-stool. I cannot promise that they will accept it just because you are not here to take it back.”
“Do your best; that is all I can ask. I do not wish her to think of it as a payment; it is the farewell gesture of a grateful friend. I assure you I can well afford it.”
“You are pretty rich, aren’t you, sir? I mean, anyone who knew horses could see you must have paid a pretty penny for Fancy and Checkmate, and the curricle is bang up to the knocker. I’ve cleaned it up as well as I can.”
Mr. Fairfax managed to turn the conversation into a discussion of the contrasting requirements of riding versus carriage horses. By the time they returned to the house, Geoffrey was quite in charity with him again.
Hester was very silent and wan that evening. Mr. Fairfax was afraid she might be coming down with a chill after her adventures at the river. In spite of his anxiety on her behalf and his reluctance to leave the Godrics, he found himself looking forward to his departure. Three months of inaction and confinement
were too much for any man used, as he was, to be busy with the affairs of his own estate and the nation, used to a wide circle of acquaintances and a lively social life.
In the end, his concern over Hester’s lack of spirits made him the more ready to leave. His campaign against his feelings for her had been dealt a crushing setback by the dramatic events of the previous night. He was prepared to admit his cowardice to himself, and to turn tail and run. Another few days in her company might deliver the final blow to his resistance.
He was glad when Jerry and Southwell arrived on the Oxford mail early the next day, several hours sooner than expected. Having no idea how to take his leave of Hester, he spared himself that agony. By one o’clock a carriage had been hired, his minimal luggage was stowed, and a leather bag containing fifty sovereigns had been pressed discreetly into Geoffrey’s hand. Arrangements had been made to have Fancy and Checkmate and the curricle driven to London. A few brief words of earnest gratitude while Southwell tucked a rug around Lord Alton’s legs, and the White Hart’s chaise-and-four bore him off through the town on the way back to his world. He did not look back.
“Jamie, you may move your things back into your room,” said Hester as the carriage disappeared round the corner. “I have the headache; pray do not disturb me.”
Alone in her chamber, she flung herself down on her bed and wept. She loved him, why had she not realised it? All this time she had been telling herself that she pitied him as a friend because of his unrequited love for Alice. It was no pity that made the world look bleak and bare now that he was gone. Pity could not leave that emptiness in her heart, that dread that she might never see him again. How could she have been so blind to her own feelings?
Later that afternoon, when Geoffrey produced the fifty pounds, she was furious. “How dare he do such a thing! I’ve never been so insulted in my life! To make us believe we were friends and then—”
“But Hester,” protested Geoff, “he did it as a friend; that’s what he said. It’s not supposed to be payment . . .”
