The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance

by Trisha Telep

  It was an elegant apartment with high ceilings and tall windows, and it was sumptuously furnished. Marble-topped console tables were set beneath gleaming mirrors, and damasked sofas were positioned between silk-upholstered chairs.

  “Worse?” asked Annabelle.

  “Much worse,” said Hetty emphatically. “It is A Man.” Her tone gave the words capital letters.

  Annabelle stopped in the middle of stripping off her gloves and said, “I see. And who is this man?”

  Hetty looked at her helplessly and groaned. “You will never believe it. If I did not know it to be true then I would not believe it myself. It is the Braithwaites’ gardener!” she said.

  Annabelle raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Unless I am very much mistaken, the Braithwaites’ gardener is seventy years old!” she said.

  “Oh no, it is not Old Ned. He has retired. It is his grandson who is the cause of all the trouble. Able. And a very handsome young man, it has to be said. But quite unsuitable. And, even worse, he is engaged.”

  “Do you not mean, even better, he is engaged?” enquired Annabelle, removing her pelisse and bonnet.

  “I only wish I did. If Caroline would accept that he was spoken for then all would be well. But you know how headstrong she is. She is convinced that he does not love his fiancée and that he is only marrying the girl to please his grandfather, who happens to be friends with the girl’s grandfather. The two men have had a very enjoyable rivalry over the last fifty years, concerning who can grow the best roses.”

  “And what does Able say about it all?”

  “Nothing. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other when she challenges him, and goes bright red, then pulls his ear, and says, ‘I don’t rightly know, Miss Caroline, I reckon I love ’er.’”

  “Oh dear! But surely this must deter Caroline?” said Annabelle, bubbling with laughter.

  “Not a bit of it. She simply says that he does not know his own mind, and that he needs a good woman to know it for him!”

  “And the good woman in question, I suppose, is Caroline?”

  “Of course,” said Hetty, sinking into a chair.

  Annabelle looked at Hetty’s woebegone face and tried to pull a sympathetic expression but she could not help herself. It was too ridiculous! She burst into outright laughter.

  “Really, Belle, it is no laughing matter,” said Hetty crossly.

  “Oh, Hetty, I’m sorry, but of course it is! Caroline is a minx, but in six weeks’ time she will have forgotten all about Able, and she will be content for him to marry his sweetheart and grow roses for the rest of his days.”

  “I only hope it may be so, but what am I to do with her in the meantime? She declares she won’t go to Whitegates Manor with you, and if she stays here, she will make everyone uncomfortable. The Braithwaites have already asked me not to bring her with me the next time I call. She distracts Able from his work. The last time we called he sent a cabbage indoors for the flower arrangements, and then enraged the cook by sending a basket of hollyhocks into the kitchen for dinner.”

  “Never fear,” said Annabelle soothingly, putting her hand reassuringly on Hetty’s. “I will take Caroline to Whitegates with me, I promise you, and you can have some respite.”

  “I only wish you could,” said Hetty dolorously, “but she has sworn she will not go.”

  “A little of the sun, instead of the wind, will work wonders I am sure,” said Annabelle. Seeing Hetty’s bemused look, she said, “When the wind and the sun had an argument about which of them was the stronger, they agreed to a contest to decide the matter. There happened to be a merchant walking below them and they agreed that whichever one of them could part him from his cloak would be the winner. The wind blew as hard as it could, but to no avail, the merchant only held his cloak closer. Then the sun shone down and the merchant set his cloak aside, making the sun the winner.”

  “And you plan to warm Caroline with sunshine?” asked Hetty dubiously.

  “I do. The sunshine of flattery, coupled with an appeal to her generosity. And if all else fails, I will sweeten it with a treat.”

  “I only hope you may succeed. I am at my wits’ end.” Hetty stood up and moved towards the bell. “I will send for Withers and she will fetch her.”

  “There is no need for that. I will go myself. Is she in her room?”

  “Yes,” said Hetty.

  “Then I will go up to her now.”

  Annabelle went out into the hall, threading her way between the marble columns and crossing the black-and-white squared floor before going up the stairs.

  Twenty sets of ancestral eyes gazed down at her from Hetty’s family portraits, some haughty, some placid and some disdainful, but she ignored them all as she mounted the stairs and came at last to the bedrooms.

  She went to Caroline’s door and knocked discreetly.

  “Go away!” came a voice from inside.

  “That is not a very friendly greeting,” Annabelle replied, “especially as I have come all this way to see you.”

  “Oh, it is you, Aunt Annabelle,” said Caroline, appearing at the door of her room a minute later. “Mama has sent you to speak to me, I suppose.”

  “No, I came of my own accord. Your mama thought it would not do any good for me to speak to you. She believes you are a hopeless case.”

  “And so I am,” said Caroline, sinking down on to the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Hopelessly in love with Able.”

  “Well, he is a very handsome young man by all accounts,” said Annabelle sympathetically.

  Caroline looked surprised. Then a crease appeared between her brows. “And?” she asked suspiciously.

  “And?” enquired Annabelle.

  “Are you not going to say that Lord Deverish is handsomer, or that Able, for all his handsome face, is nothing but a gardener, and that I can do better; or that I am a foolish, obstinate, headstrong girl?”

  “No. Why should I?” asked Annabelle.

  “Because that is what everyone else says. They have lots of different reasons for complaining, but the moral of every story is that I must forget all about him.”

  “If Able is your choice, then what business is it of mine?”

  Caroline looked startled.

  She really is very pretty, thought Annabelle, even with that open mouth and those widened eyes. With her lustrous dark hair and her entrancing green eyes, she is positively charming.

  “I cannot understand it,” said Caroline, perplexed. “I was sure you would be just like Mama, and tell me it would not do. Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, in a different tone of voice, and her face took on a sympathetic expression. “Of course, I was forgetting. You had an unhappy love affair, too! Aunt Annabelle, I am so sorry,” she went on, stricken. “This must have awakened painful memories for you, and now I have added to your pain by distrusting you. But of course, with your history, I should have known that you would take my side.”

  Annabelle refrained from pointing out that her own unhappy love affair had been nothing like Caroline’s infatuation, for she had come to know and love a man who had been suitable in every way. But she made allowances for her niece’s youth, and she did no more than give an exasperated smile.

  Fortunately, Caroline construed her expression as one of sympathy.

  “If only Mama and Papa could see it as you do.” Caroline patted the bed beside her and invited Annabelle to sit down. “But they keep telling me that I cannot marry Able because they say that, in a few weeks’ time, I will forget all about him. Which is absurd, because I will never forget about Able, not for as long as I live.”

  “Which is exactly why you should come to Whitegates Manor with me,” said Annabelle. “It will prove to your parents that you are serious about Able, and that your feelings will not change. Only imagine, when you return here and you are still as much in love as ever, they will not be able to accuse you of inconstancy, but will be forced to admit the strength of your attachment.”

  “So they will,” said
Caroline, much struck. “And then they must give their consent to the marriage.”

  Annabelle was just congratulating herself on her stratagems when Caroline cut short her rejoicing by reverting to a lachrymose manner. “But no, I cannot be away from Able for so long. It would be insupportable. In fact, it would kill me.”

  “Ah, well, we cannot have that. I see now that I must go by myself,” said Annabelle, rising. “A pity, for I was hoping to teach you to drive. There is an excellent avenue at Whitegates Manor that would be perfect for the purpose; it is long and straight, and the surface is very good. But if you cannot leave Able then there is nothing more to be said.”

  She had gone no more than halfway to the door when Caroline asked, “Teach me to drive?”

  “Yes. I thought it might amuse you. I have two new horses. Have you seen them? Perfectly matched bays. And such high steppers, with such soft mouths. They are a treat.”

  “And you would let me drive them?” asked Caroline, half rising from the bed in her eagerness.

  “But of course. Every young woman should learn to drive.”

  She almost laughed as she watched the emotions playing across Caroline’s face, but out of deference to her favourite niece’s feelings she remained straight-faced.

  “Perhaps you are right,” said Caroline consideringly, as a desire to drive her aunt’s dashing curricle won out over her desire to swoon over the hapless Able. “If I go with you, it will prove to Mama and Papa, once and for all, that I am really in love.”

  “Then make haste and finish dressing. The sooner we are away, the better.”

  “Do you know, Aunt Annabelle, I think it is for the best, after all. I will be with you directly.”

  Leaving her niece to ready herself, Annabelle went downstairs.

  “Ah! She would not come. I did not expect it,” said Hetty, as Annabelle entered the drawing room alone. “It was good of you to try. Girls! Everyone says that boys are difficult to handle, but boys are nothing to girls. Thank goodness I have only the one, or my head would be full of grey hairs.”

  “She will be down in a few minutes,” said Annabelle.

  Hetty looked at her in amazement. “You do not mean that you have persuaded her? How did you manage it?”

  “By telling her that a few weeks’ absence will prove to you that she is really in love – and by promising to teach her to drive.”

  “Oh, thank goodness! We are to have a few weeks’ respite! And, of course, at the end of it, she will have forgotten all about Able, and be ready to think of someone more suitable instead. I cannot thank you enough. Now, sit down, my love, for you have a long drive before you. I do so wish you would hire a coachman, but I suppose it is too late now to persuade you to change your ways?”

  “It is.”

  “Then let me offer you some refreshment before you set out. You will take a cup of tea, and some seed cake?”

  “No, thank you, Hetty. I must not keep the horses waiting. As soon as Caroline is down—Ah! Here she is.’

  Caroline entered the room with a sunny smile. She was dressed in a green silk pelisse, which brought out the colour in her eyes, with matching gloves, and on her head was a splendid hat, topped by a dancing plume.

  “I thought I told you that that hat was too dashing for a girl of your age!” exclaimed Hetty in vexation when she saw it. “What have you done with the straw bonnet?”

  “Oh, that,” said Caroline nonchalantly. “I decided it did not suit me after all, and so I returned it when I went into town with Charlotte. The only other hat that fitted me was this one.”

  “I think it is time for us to leave,” said Annabelle diplomatically.

  And before Hetty could react, she swept Caroline out of the house.

  “It was very wrong of you to buy that hat against your mother’s express wishes,” she said, as they went down the steps.

  “Mama never expressed a wish either way, she simply said it was too dashing for a girl of my age, but as I was then only sixteen years old, and as I am now seventeen, of course that changes things.”

  “Ah,” said Annabelle, smiling at Caroline’s youthful logic – or should it be youthful impudence? “Of course!”

  They waited for the curricle to return from the end of the street, where the tiger had been walking the horses, and then they climbed in.

  “What—?” asked Annabelle in surprise, for a portmanteau and a hatbox had been crammed into the carriage. “Did your mama not send your boxes on?”

  “Yes, she sent them on yesterday with my maid. But I forgot to put a few things in, and so I packed a box this morning and had the footman carry it downstairs,” said Caroline airily.

  “And no doubt the ‘few things’ you forgot are dresses of which your mama would not approve.”

  “There is nothing wrong with them, I do assure you. They are both of them quite adorable.”

  “I am sure they are. But are they respectable?”

  “They are respectable enough for a vicar’s daughter,” replied Caroline. “But they happen to be in various colours, and Mama is so fussy about me wearing white. I cannot think why. It does not suit me, and, anyway, young ladies no longer wear exclusively white. That fashion went out when Mama was a girl.”

  “As long ago as that?” enquired Annabelle.

  “Are you laughing at me?” asked Caroline suspiciously.

  “Not at all.”

  They seated themselves in the carriage. Annabelle took the reins, and then they were off.

  Caroline revelled in the admiring glances that were directed towards them as they set out, though she was sensible enough to realize that they were directed towards Annabelle rather than herself, and she dreamed of the day when she would be the one holding the reins. What a figure she would cut as she dashed through the streets!

  “How did you learn to drive?” asked Caroline. “Did your papa teach you?”

  “No,” said Annabelle. “It was . . . someone else.”

  Her mind flew back to the day when Daniel had said to her, “It is about time you learned to handle the reins.” And she remembered him putting them in her hands, then putting one arm around her so that he could show her how to hold them properly, and the way it made her feel, with his hands around hers and his breath on her cheek and . . .

  “Aunt Annabelle!”

  Caroline’s cry brought her back to the present just in time, as a brewer’s cart rolled out from a side road and she had to swerve in order to avoid it. The carriage behind her was not so lucky, and the sound of heated cries and barrels rolling on to the road followed them as they headed out to the country.

  Green fields took the place of crowded streets. The air was fresh here, without the smell of fish or pies or a hundred other things, savoury and unsavoury, which perfumed the London streets. Annabelle breathed in deeply. It was good to be alive.

  “I am looking forward to the party,” she said.

  “But I am not. It will be very boring,” said Caroline with a yawn. “House parties always are.”

  “There might be some interesting people there,” said Annabelle.

  “And there might not.”

  “There speaks the experience of seventeen,” said Annabelle, laughing.

  “I know already who will be there. A retired general who will pinch my cheek and call me a clever puss. An old admiral who will talk of nothing but the sea and try to tell me all about the Battle of Flamingo—”

  “I believe you mean the Battle of St Domingo.”

  “And a whole bunch of mamas who will look daggers at me because I am prettier than their daughters.”

  “But once they learn you are to marry, they will breathe a sigh of relief. They will thank heaven for Able because they will know that, for all your pretty face, you are no competition for their daughters. A girl in love has no interest in anyone else. She does not like to dance with the most eligible bachelors, she prefers to sit at the side of the room.”

  Caroline looked at her suspiciously, b
ut Annabelle preserved a countenance of angelic innocence, and they carried on their way.

  They stopped shortly after midday, choosing an idyllic spot in a country lane. The tiger climbed over the stile and into the neighbouring field, where he spread out a rug and began to unpack the picnic hamper. Annabelle and Caroline strolled along the lane to stretch their legs before settling themselves on the rug, beneath the spreading arms of a chestnut tree.

  “How much farther is it to Whitegates?” asked Caroline.

  “We have a few hours more to travel,” said Annabelle.

  “Can I drive for part of the way?”

  “Very well. I will give you your first lesson after lunch.”

  They started to eat their picnic. It was a delicate affair of chicken and ham, with crusty bread and newly churned butter, and they finished their repast with peaches and grapes.

  Their meal over, Caroline looked at Annabelle hopefully, and, with a laugh, Annabelle said, “Very well. I was going to suggest another stroll first, but I see that you are eager to begin. The road here is straight and flat. You may set us on our way.”

  Their things were soon packed and the two ladies climbed into the curricle, followed by the tiger.

  With the reins in her hands, Caroline’s childishness dropped away, as Annabelle had hoped it would, and she applied herself seriously to the task in hand.

  “Very good,” said Annabelle approvingly, as the curricle rolled smoothly along a straight, flat stretch of road. “You have light hands.”

  Caroline glowed under the praise.

  She was reluctant to give the reins back to Annabelle when the road became more difficult, but after a moment’s hesitation she did so with a good grace.

  They had not gone very much further when the wind turned colder and the sky darkened. Soon it began to rain. It was nothing more than a light drizzle to begin with, but as the curricle had no hood, they were exposed to the elements.

  “Urgh!” said Caroline, as the rain began to fall more heavily. “Is there nowhere we can shelter? We will soon be wet through.”

  A quick glance at the countryside showed that there were no barns or stables in sight.