‘Oh, very well,’ grumbled Clarissa. ‘Find the jewel box, Hubbard. If we give this fellow what he wants, he may ride off and leave us unharmed.’
But the fat maid was rolling on the carriage floor, sobbing and screaming. Clarissa bent down and pulled the jewel box out from under the seat and, putting it under one arm but still holding the forgotten cheroot in her free hand, she stepped down from the carriage. The highwayman edged his horse close to her. ‘Hand it over,’ he growled.
Clarissa took a step forward, but she was in her stockinged feet, and one foot came down on a sharp piece of flint. She let out a yell and dropped the box and stumbled forward, the lighted end of her cheroot brushing against the horse’s flanks. The horse reared up and threw the highwayman onto the road. He fell with a crash and lay still.
‘You are not very good protection, are you?’ said Clarissa to the two outriders, two grooms, and coachman. ‘Bring me a lantern until I get a look at him.’
She tossed her cheroot into the carriage. The maid had tumbled out onto the road, where she was now sitting, sobbing dismally.
One of the grooms brought a lantern and Clarissa took it and bent over the still figure on the road. She knelt down and removed the black velvet mask.
‘Why, ’tis only a boy!’ she cried. She loosened his cravat. Tom had only been winded but thought it better to feign unconsciousness. ‘I need water to bathe his temples,’ said Clarissa. She looked at the side of the road and caught a faint gleam. She took out a large serviceable handkerchief and went over to the ditch, soaked the handkerchief and then placed it on Tom’s brow. The ‘highwayman’ sat up with a roar. ‘Eugh!’ he cried. ‘What a smell!’ Clarissa sniffed her fingers and said in dismay, ‘It must have been an open sewer. I am so sorry. For heaven’s sake, Hubbard, stop wailing and get me the bottle of drinking water. Why did I forget that?’
‘No, no,’ said Tom. ‘Don’t do anything more to me, I beg. I am frightfully sorry. A joke, ma’am.’
‘In poor taste,’ said Clarissa severely.
The grooms, coachman, and outriders had gathered around Clarissa and the fallen Tom in a circle. Hubbard pushed her way through them and looked down at Tom. In the light of the lantern, she saw a very young man with a mop of fair curls and a face that might have been handsome had it not been smeared with Clarissa’s offering from the sewer.
‘Pooh! What a stink,’ said Clarissa. ‘Fetch me the cologne, Hubbard.’
Clarissa’s cheroot, which she had tossed into the carriage, had fallen onto the open pages of a book which she had been reading, and it had proceeded to burn merrily while she was administering to Tom. The flames had travelled to the maid’s cane basket and taken greedy hold.
As Hubbard approached the carriage, a long tongue of flame shot out of the window. ‘Fire!’ she screamed.
Swearing horribly, the coachman and grooms ran to unhitch the plunging and frightened horses and lead them to safety. Tom scrambled to his feet. His own horse had run off. But before he got a few yards down the road, a ball whizzed over his head. He stood stock-still, shaking with fright. Clarissa had seized his fallen pistol and had fired over his retreating figure.
He thought she looked like a she-devil when he slowly turned around with his hands raised and saw her walking towards him, the smoking pistol in her hand and the red glare of the burning carriage behind her.
He threw back his head and screamed, ‘Help. Oh, help me!’
And then Clarissa heard the urgent thud of hooves coming along the road towards them at a great rate. ‘Your accomplice, no doubt,’ she said bitterly.
The Earl of Greystone rode towards that incredible scene. A carriage was burning brightly and in its lurid flames he saw his half-brother cringing before a tall female who was standing in her stockinged feet and holding a pistol.
He came to a halt and dismounted. ‘Are you all right, Tom?’ he asked.
‘Keep her away from me,’ cried Tom, and burst into tears.
The earl faced Clarissa. ‘What has been going on, ma’am?’
Clarissa forgot to stoop. After all, she did not need to when faced with such a giant as this. ‘This fellow held up my coach,’ she said.
‘Tom, stop blubbing,’ snapped the earl. He turned back to Clarissa. ‘And did he also set your coach on fire?’
‘No, sir,’ said Clarissa. ‘I did that. It was the cheroot I was smoking, don’t you see?’
‘Take me home, Crispin,’ wailed Tom, clutching at the earl’s sleeve. The earl shook himself free. ‘Faugh! What is that sickening smell?’
‘I was trying to bathe his forehead,’ said Clarissa patiently. ‘You see, he ordered me down from the coach and asked for my jewels, and I was going to give them to him, you know, but I forgot about the cheroot and it burned his horse’s side and his horse threw him and I soaked my handkerchief in that ditch over there and put it to his forehead, but that ditch, sir, is an open sewer. Hence the smell. I gather you are not highwaymen?’
‘No, ma’am, I am Greystone. And you . . . ?’
‘Miss Vevian, Clarissa Vevian.’
‘Miss Vevian, what can I say? This is dreadful. I pray you, leave this young whipper-snapper to me and don’t turn him over to the authorities. I will repair any damage to your property and give you a sum of money to cover your losses.’
‘That’s handsome of you,’ said Clarissa, ‘considering it was I who set the coach on fire. All my fine gowns are quite destroyed,’ she said cheerfully, thinking of all those frilly, fussy dresses going up in smoke, not to mention all those cramping and crippling pairs of shoes.
‘I suggest you ride back with me to my home and let the others find their own way there.’
‘Very well,’ said Clarissa. ‘We are not totally ruined, for the jewels are still there and the money was in sovereigns. Pray give instructions to my servants.’
He strode off to talk to Clarissa’s coachman. Tom sniffed dismally at Clarissa’s elbow.
‘Oh, you’re still here,’ said Clarissa crossly. ‘What an idiot you are!’
‘It’s all Crispin’s fault,’ said Tom. ‘I asked him for money for a new hunter and he wouldn’t give it to me. He’s a miser!’
‘Was that his fine horse you were riding?’
‘No, it was my own,’ said Tom sulkily.
‘But because you couldn’t get your own way, you decided to turn highwayman and rob some defenceless person. Fie, for shame! My coachman could have shot you, had he had his wits about him. You are a silly little schoolboy.’
‘I’ll get even with you for this,’ muttered Tom.
The earl strode back to them. ‘Tom, help the maid mount one of the carriage horses and lead her home. Miss Vevian, let me help you mount.’
‘I am quite capable of mounting myself,’ said Clarissa, suddenly nervous of him. She put a stockinged foot in the stirrup and mounted with such energy that she went clean over the other side. Her bonnet fell off and her red hair, which was very long, tumbled down to her waist.
‘Miss Vevian,’ said the earl, picking her up. ‘Do allow me to assist you.’
Despite Clarissa’s height, he threw her up easily into the saddle and then mounted behind her and put a strong arm about her waist. He leaned forward and murmured in her ear, ‘You do still smell awfully of that sewer,’ before spurring his horse.
So much for romance, thought Clarissa tearfully as they rode through the starry night. Here she was, just like a heroine in a book, flying through the night with this man’s hand at her waist and all he could murmur in her ear was that she smelled awful.
But she had no fear of him or that he might turn out to be a robber after all. He rode up the long drive of an estate and after a mile or so they came to a huge building. The lantern over the step was shining down on a pair of women who were waiting anxiously.
Clarissa looked down on them and her heart sank. They were just the sort of ladies who always made her feel clumsy. The older one was still pretty in a faded way with clusters
of brown curls confined with a gold fillet over her brow. The younger had golden hair and delicate features.
The earl dismounted and helped Clarissa down. ‘Where is Tom?’ demanded Angela.
‘Tom will be here presently,’ said the earl. ‘This is Miss Vevian, whose coach he tried to rob. Miss Vevian, my stepmother, the Dowager Countess of Greystone, and my half-sister, Lady Bella.’
‘You must be mistaken. Tom would never do such a thing,’ exclaimed Angela.
‘He did, he has, and you must pray that Miss Vevian here does not turn him over to the nearest magistrate.’
To Clarissa’s dismay, Angela threw herself at her feet and cried, ‘Oh, spare my boy.’
‘Please take Miss Vevian indoors and find her clean clothes and water to wash and bring her to the saloon and we will discuss the matter,’ said the earl testily.
But it was only with great difficulty that Angela could be persuaded to behave herself. Clarissa was glad Angela was led off by Bella and she herself was turned over to the care of an efficient housekeeper.
It transpired that the earl’s mother had been as tall as Clarissa and that her feet had been as large. Although she had been dead for many years now, her clothes were still stored in the attics. A gown of dark-green velvet was found for Clarissa and a pair of shoes with high red heels. Clarissa brushed her own hair and twisted it into a knot on the top of her head. She made her way to the saloon guided by a footman, feeling she looked like a guy.
The footman opened the door for her and she walked in. There was no one in the room but the earl, who was standing by the fireplace.
There was a little silence while the pair surveyed each other. Clarissa saw that the earl was indeed much taller than she was herself. He was handsome but formidable with his thick black hair, strong face, and pale, cold eyes. The earl saw a slim girl in a green velvet gown with thick masses of fiery-red hair, a rather sweet face dusted with freckles, and wide-spaced grey eyes. Clarissa noticed with surprise that the earl was looking at her with the same expression in his eyes which certain elderly gentleman had when they paid court to her mother – warmth and admiration. She felt quite breathless with surprise.
‘Come and sit down by the fire, Miss Vevian,’ said the earl, ‘and warm yourself. I do apologize for that wretched boy. Do say you forgive us.’
‘Yes, I do forgive you,’ said Clarissa. ‘It must be very taxing for you to have such a difficult charge. I have heard of you, my lord. Your father died recently and Tom is your half-brother.’
‘I wish I knew what to do with the boy. He is sadly spoilt. We are going to London for the Season and I shudder to think what scrapes he will get into.’
‘Then don’t take him,’ said Clarissa, stretching her hands gratefully to the blaze.
‘I can hardly leave him here on his own.’
‘No, but if you hired an excellent tutor, you could send him off on the Grand Tour. The prospect of travel would excite him. You would not have the responsibility of him for some time. Have you any other half-brothers?’
‘Peregrine, aged eight. Another spoilt brat.’
‘But just the right age to go to school,’ said Clarissa. ‘Send him to Eton.’
‘My dear Miss Vevian, he would never go, and his mother and Bella would scream the house down.’
‘Then tell both of them that you have no intention of wasting good money in sending the boy to school,’ said Clarissa. ‘You will find it will work like magic. People are very contrary-minded, or so I have observed.’
‘Do you usually deal with other people’s troubles in this practical manner?’
‘No, I grew up, you see, as soon as I left home, which was today.’
He smiled. ‘And can you not be grown up at home?’
‘No, my dear mama still thinks of me as a little girl and I would do anything to please her,’ said Clarissa sadly.
‘And why were you on the road to London, and should I send a messenger on ahead to explain the delay?’
‘That would be very kind,’ said Clarissa. ‘If you could advise the Misses Tribble of Holles Street that I have broken my journey, I would be most grateful.’
‘The Tribbles? The professional chaperones? Is that where you are bound? Why?’
‘I did not “take” in Bath,’ said Clarissa, blushing painfully. ‘I am a trifle awkward.’
‘You mean you usually set fire to carriages and bathe foreheads with handkerchiefs dipped in a sewer?’
‘Something like that,’ said Clarissa wretchedly. The earl felt laughter bubbling up inside him. He had not felt so amused and happy in a long while.
He held out a case. ‘Have a cheroot, Miss Vevian.’
Clarissa shuddered and waved the case away. ‘No, no. I do not smoke them. I was only trying one to be, well, bold and independent and free.’
‘I see,’ he said gently. ‘Here is the punch-bowl, Miss Vevian. A glass will restore you.’
The servant set a tray with the ingredients for punch on a table beside the earl. Clarissa watched him enviously as he deftly mixed the ingredients. Nothing spilled and nothing dropped.
He handed her a glass. Clarissa settled back in her comfortable chair. The fire crackled, the clocks ticked, and the wind howled in the chimney. She wished she could go on sitting here with this man, who made her feel quite small and feminine.
‘Why do you not stay here for a little as my guest?’ he said as if reading her thoughts. ‘I could write to your parents.’
‘It would not answer,’ said Clarissa sadly. ‘You see, Mama and Papa would probably come and stay as well and Mama would make me wear small tight shoes again and small tight flounced dresses and of course I would wear them to please her. But if I go to London, I can choose the type of clothes I would really like to wear – clothes like this.’
‘A trifle old-fashioned. That gown was my mother’s.’
‘But she must have been big like me,’ said Clarissa, ‘and she dressed to suit her size. This gown may be old-fashioned, but it was a modish gown in its day.’
‘It becomes you, Miss Vevian.’
Clarissa gave him a blinding smile.
‘In fact, you may keep it and anything else you are provided with for your journey.’
‘But your mother’s clothes . . .’
‘She would have been delighted could she have known they were being put to good use. She was a kind and charming lady. My father, alas, was a brute and a tyrant. She did not have a happy life.’
‘If he was a brute and a tyrant, how is it that Tom and Peregrine and Lady Bella are so spoilt?’
‘He doted on Angela. She was considerably younger than he. There was a vulgar streak in my father. Angela is vulgar underneath that clinging and pretty façade. Dear me. Pretend I never said that. Do people always converse so openly with you?’
‘No,’ said Clarissa. ‘My height intimidates them and then I am very shy.’
‘You do not seem in the least shy to me.’
‘That is because of the circumstances. We are here by chance, you see. I am not being paraded in front of you in the hope you might marry me. I do not need to try. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Yes,’ he said, taking her glass and refilling it. ‘I know what you mean.’ He privately thought Lady Clarendon was, however unwittingly, guilty of being cruel and callous.
‘In fact, I often wish I were a man.’ Clarissa moved her arm in an expansive gesture and a little wave of punch slopped onto the green gown. She let out a wail of dismay.
He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at the stain on her bust. ‘No, don’t!’ cried Clarissa, pushing his hand away.
‘I am merely trying to take the stain out, Miss Vevian.’
Clarissa miserably shook her head. Her whole body felt on fire. ‘I think I shall retire, my lord.’
‘Of course,’ he said quickly. ‘You must be tired after your adventures.’ He rang the bell and ordered a footman to show Clarissa to her room.
Clarissa foun
d a nightgown laid out for her. She undressed and washed herself again in case any of that awful sewer smell should still prove to be lingering about and brushed out her hair and then remembered her maid, Hubbard, and went in search of her. She should have called for a servant and asked the way, but she was clad only in her nightgown and wanted to have a talk in private with Hubbard. She judged the maid would have been put in one of the rooms on the upper floor. She pushed open several doors until she found the right one.
Hubbard was sitting up in bed, reading a Bible.
‘I was told you were downstairs, miss,’ said Hubbard, ‘so I asked that housekeeper to fetch me the Bible to show this household we are God-fearing folk.’
‘There was no need,’ said Clarissa. ‘Lord Greystone is all that is respectable.’
‘Lets his half-brother go around holding up coaches? That’s not respectable.’
‘It is very difficult to explain, Hubbard. We shall set out tomorrow. Lord Greystone is sending a letter to the Tribbles to explain the delay in our arrival, which is something Mama should have done in the first place, for we were almost a day late in leaving Bath.’
‘My nerves is shattered, miss,’ said Hubbard huffily. ‘Don’t seem right it should be all hushed up.’
‘Hubbard, you will not say one word. I am sure Master Tom will be punished. Lord Greystone has promised to pay for a new carriage and for all the clothes we have lost. Now, go to sleep.’
‘Don’t be getting into any mischief, miss. I had better see you to your room. You shouldn’t ought to be wandering about in your night-rail, and with his lordship not wed.’
‘We are adequately chaperoned by his stepmother, and you know it. Good night, Hubbard.’
Clarissa left the maid’s room and stifled a yawn. She was suddenly extremely weary. She could not remember ever being so tired. She wandered downstairs and then stood irresolute. Which was her room? She turned this way and that and finally made her way along a passage and gently opened a door. Bella was sitting up in bed reading.
‘What do you want?’ she asked rudely.
‘I have lost my bedroom,’ said Clarissa.
Finessing Clarissa Page 2
