The Runaway Chaperone: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Alice Kirks

  He found himself wondering what the chaperone thought of him.

  “Oh! You mean the one you want me to go to? Oh, yes! She said I could wear the white muslin, if I liked, and she would be sure to check that I knew my etiquette. She joked about it, though. She’s so funny! I like her.”

  “I trust she didn’t take it lightly,” Matthew asked, feeling worried once more. The chaperone was there to keep his sister safe, above all things, and he had to be sure of her character.

  “Oh, brother! You don’t have to be so serious, do you?” Arabella asked. “But no. As it happens, she didn’t seem to scorn etiquette. Not a bit. So, you needn’t worry.” She reached for her teacup and poured more tea.

  Matthew smiled. “I trust you, sister. Truly, I do.” He put aside his tea. “I know that you would never wittingly be rude or offensive. It’s not you I worry about – it’s everyone else.”

  “Oh, brother. The whole of London isn’t full of scoundrels and rogues. Is it?”

  Matthew shrugged. “I can’t say.” He swallowed his tea. He had to admit that, since becoming the only thing Arabella had approaching a parent, he’d become overly aware of the dangers of the world. He truly had started thinking of London as a pit of corruption, but she forced him to think rationally about it, and he found that it couldn’t be true. After all, he was also a Ton member, and he wouldn’t hurt anybody.

  “I am so excited!” Arabella giggled. “Oh, brother! I can’t wait to wear my new dress. And Alexandra shall be there! Won’t it be fun?”

  “Yes,” Matthew said, glad to have the subject changed. “Yes, it will be fun.”

  He would, he decided, just have to keep a close eye on Miss Ilfield and make sure that she was not a bad influence for his sister. Arabella already trusted her, and that meant she must be even more responsible and reliable than he had thought.

  Chapter 3

  Alexandra sat down at the desk in the schoolroom. Though she knew her job was explicitly not as governess, she found that she gravitated to the room with its shelves of books and its airy brightness. It was the only place in the house, too, where she felt comfortable. In her own bedroom, she felt out-of-breath, and in the drawing-room she felt unwelcome.

  She was surprised, as she sat there with her books, to find her mind drifting to the subject of Lord Blakely. How strange it was that he kept on returning to her thoughts again and again.

  “Miss?” the maid said, coming to the door. Alexandra recognized her from dinner the previous evening – she’d been sitting across from her, eating soup – but she couldn’t yet recall her name. “The room should be empty at lunchtime…we’re going to be cleaning in here, and it’s best if you and your young charge aren’t in here then.”

  “Thank you,” she nodded.

  Chaperone was, she thought a little sadly as the maid curtseyed and turned to go out again, a difficult position to hold. She wasn’t a servant – or not in the same sense as those who cleaned the house or made the dinner – but at the same time, she was also not part of the family, however close and sisterly Arabella might seem to her.

  “It’s just good to be safe,” she reminded herself.

  She found herself thinking about him again, recalling the interchange of the initial interview. He had been so strict! And the way he’d talked, as though he half-expecting she would steal the crockery! She felt herself blush as she recalled the fact that, however tedious he was, he did have rather lovely soft brown hair.

  “Alexandra! There you are!” Arabella said, walking lightly over to the desk. Alexandra hadn’t even heard her footsteps in the corridor. She looked up as her young friend sat down.

  “What is it, my Lady?” Alexandra asked. She studied Arabella’s face – pale, but lit from within, her eyes sparkling.

  “Nothing! I just wanted to find you. I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about knowing the right way to do something. I was confused, because sometimes there isn’t a right way to do something. I mean, there’s lots of ways to tie a bow, or lace a bodice, or…”

  Alexandra grinned. “Yes, there are. I think that the only times there is ‘a right way’ is when it matters to do it in a way that people agree on doing it. With tasks you do by yourself, or for yourself, you should do them the way that’s best for you.”

  She had to admit that she already liked Arabella as a pupil – her mind was lively and engaging, and she had a tendency to think thoroughly about topics. Her thoughts did wander a great deal, though, which made it hard to focus on any one thing.

  “Oh!” Arabella clapped her hands. “Isn’t that splendid! Now, I’m going to go out riding. You like riding? I love riding! I have a wonderful horse. Her name’s Princess. You’d love her too. Would you like to meet her? But you can’t wear that outside…it’s too cold! Have you a cloak?” Arabella was already on her feet, going to the windows.

  “My Lady…” Alexandra said patiently. “Weren’t we meant to be discussing modern writing?” She had made the agreement with Arabella the day before that they would spend an hour in the schoolroom every morning, after breakfast. Just an hour, she’d assured her young charge, and she seemed to have agreed to it – at least yesterday.

  “Oh, that’s so boring,” Arabella flapped one hand. “I don’t want to talk about modern writing. That’s all silly stuff. I like riding!”

  Alexandra felt her lip lift in a smile.

  “Is it silly?” she asked. “Are you sure? What about Shelley? Is his writing boring and tedious?”

  “Oh! No…” Arabella’s mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ of shock. Alexandra grinned. Shelley – the famous poet – had clearly captured Arabella’s imagination, just as he had most of the population of London and England – certainly, most of the female population.

  “Well, then,” Alexandra grinned. “Maybe poetry isn’t always fun...but what about Zastrozzi?”

  “Oh! His novel? I read it,” Arabella said, flushing. “Matthew would be shocked.”

  “He would?” Alexandra was amused. Why would Shelley’s poetry be acceptable, but his novel – which, even Alexandra had to admit, was exciting and arresting rather than serious – was not? The Duke must be a strict person.

  “Oh, yes! You won’t tell him, I’m sure. It was a fun book, though…I’m sure you liked it too.”

  “I did,” Alexandra grinned. “Though I probably wouldn’t have told anybody that, either.”

  They both chuckled. It would, they agreed, be their secret. They talked readily about literature. Arabella agreed that of all modern literature, Shelley was her favorite. She liked Byron, but she felt he could be a bit political, and politics was tiresome.

  “It always makes people angry,” Arabella said, frowning.

  “People feel strongly about how their country should be governed, which is understandable, I think,” Alexandra said gently.

  “I suppose,” Arabella said. “But can’t we all agree on it? Surely all people want the same things?”

  Alexandra smiled. “Now that, my dear friend, is a topic that philosophers have debated for centuries. We could reference Aristotle, or Socrates, or even the French school – Voltaire, for example – for our answers. Shall we have a look at what they said?”

  “Yes,” Arabella agreed.

  Alexandra reached for a piece of paper and something to write with, suddenly feeling familiar and comfortable.

  “And so,” she was explaining after an hour, “I think that there is no general rule about ‘what everybody wants.’ Some suggest it’s knowledge, some material comforts, some a sense of purpose. I…do we have the windows open?” she asked, looking up as something moved.

  “I opened the door,” Lord Blakeley said.

  Alexandra stared as he walked in, striding across to the desk after shutting the door behind him.

  “Oh!” Arabella jumped up. “Oh, brother! I didn’t know you were coming in! Alexandra and I were just having a diverting talk. And I want to go and try on my new dress, for the party. Will you s
tay?”

  “I will,” he nodded. “Excuse me, Miss Ilfield. I couldn’t help interrupting. I was wondering if you had intended to discuss the reason for life?”

  “No,” Alexandra countered, feeling nettled by his having been standing outside the schoolroom for some time. “I hadn’t. We were discussing what people want.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Alexandra shook her head. “No…I wouldn’t have thought so. The purpose of life, and human endeavor…could they be the same thing? That itself asks many important questions.”

  “It does,” Lord Blakeley countered. “Is my purpose here to do what I want? Probably not.”

  Alexandra was surprised to see how bitter he looked. She frowned. The look was only there for a moment, and it was gone the instant Arabella laughed happily.

  “I thought you were out! It’s grand to have you here.”

  I also thought he was out, Alexandra thought gloomily. She had thought she’d heard his horse running. She had felt freer to talk when she had assumed he wouldn’t be there to listen; as somehow, she felt he didn’t hold with educated women.

  Though he did agree that he wanted his sister educated. And he seems so serious sometimes…

  “Sister, I’d be delighted to see your new dress, if you want to show me,” he said, turning to Arabella, who gazed up contentedly. “What I actually wanted to do was tell you some good news; I came to tell you we’d be receiving no guests. Do you want to dine upstairs?”

  “Oh! Yes! That would be merry!” Arabella said. She looked up hopefully at her brother. “Brother…what about Alexandra? Is she welcome, too?”

  Alexandra swallowed. The Duke looked as if someone had smacked him. She thought that he wouldn’t want her joining them, and that thought upset her.

  “Is that what you’d like?” he asked. His voice was serious, his expression grave.

  She raised a brow. “Is it what I’d like? Or is it part of my purpose here? I’m not sure. I myself see no reason why it should be contrary to my purpose here – these things are not always in dissonance.”

  The Duke looked at her, amazed. She grinned. Making him think was rather fun.

  “Hurray!” Arabella said, heedless of the interchange between her brother and her chaperone. “Shall you come up now, then, Alexandra?”

  “It depends on what Miss Ilfield wants,” the Duke said again. He was looking so tense that, after a moment, Alexandra smiled.

  “No, Lady Arabella. I will stay here. There’s work I must finish. I will dine downstairs with the others, later on.”

  “Oh,” Arabella looked disappointed, and Alexandra felt a sharp pang of guilt. But, when she looked at the Duke, he was looking at her with a slightly-less severe eye than before. She’d made the right choice.

  “Well, then,” she said, reaching for her quill, inspecting the end though it didn’t need trimming yet, she knew that. “I will see you after lunch, then, later. Then we can discuss the dress you talked about.”

  “Hurray!” her young friend said, squeezing her hand impulsively before running to her brother.

  Alexandra looked up at the Duke, who was standing in the doorway. He gazed back at her and she found it impossible to fathom the look he gave her as she left.

  She could almost, she thought, think it was affection.

  “Nonsense, Miss Ilfied,” she told herself firmly. “Why would he?”

  She was his sister’s chaperone. He would certainly never look at her like that.

  All the same, as she reached for a book and sat down in the chair by the window, she realized she was smiling. She couldn’t stop thinking about the Duke, and their exchange, and, despite how foolish it was, she had to admit that she rather liked him.

  “No matter how peculiar and difficult he might be, or how silly it might be,” she told herself firmly.

  Chapter 4

  Matthew looked back from his horse, staring out over the fields worriedly. He had agreed to escort Arabella on an afternoon stroll, and she had insisted on bringing Alexandra along. He had planned to ride, but since Alexandra had joined them, Arabella insisted on walking so they could talk, he’d ended up ahead.

  He didn’t like the fact that he had moved ahead out of the way should danger approach them, and looked back, checking on the surroundings in case any threats lurked about them somewhere.

  “Sister?” he murmured. “Do be safe.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder at the two of them. Steadily walking up the middle of the road, Arabella seemed oblivious of all dangers. It was, Matthew thought crossly, at once a delightful characteristic and something that troubled him. His sister was too unaware of hazards.

  He looked sideways to where Alexandra walked beside her. She was dressed in a white dress, a cloak of a sort of creamy oaten color about her form. She was walking slowly, and Matthew couldn’t help noticing that her body had womanly curves.

  “Come on, man,” he coughed. It was shocking, to look at her like that!

  She was his sister’s companion.

  Matthew looked away, staring moodily over the landscape. He had intended to be back to discuss the spice-trade with Albert.

  He found himself thinking back to the talk from the previous afternoon. The purpose of life. The endeavor of man. How many of his friends never thought about such topics? He couldn’t really think of any who did. He himself only thought about such things sometimes, when he was in a particularly contemplative frame of mind. But Alexandra…she seemed to think constantly of them!

  He looked at his watch, noticing that it was two o’ clock. He had intended to be back at the manor by three.

  He turned around, gazing back at them. Arabella looked up at Alexandra, and he could see that she appeared happy, her lips drawn back in a grin.

  That, he thought, softening inside, was worth having the new chaperone around. He had been worried about his sister. She had been shut away with him for too long, and now that she was old enough to have no need for tutoring and enter society, he felt inadequate. He was no reasonable companion for a young lady to have.

  I can’t teach her what she is supposed to know.

  “Oh! Come on, let’s go!”

  Matthew heard one of them – he wasn’t sure who, since the distance was too great, and the sound was blurred and distorted by it slightly – call out cheerily.

  “No rush,” he called as they both ran up.

  “Arabella…” Alexandra panted. “You’re fast.”

  Inwardly, Matthew wanted to laugh. He had expected a chaperone to reprimand Arabella for running around – he was forever telling her it was unladylike – but apparently, Alexandra’s only complaint was that she was too fleet-footed for her to keep up with properly.

  “We shall be late for tea, won’t we, brother?” Arabella asked. “I had to be fast. Would you like to turn back?”

  Matthew frowned. He could see the village from here, calm and warm under the afternoon sunshine. He had thought the purpose of the walk was for Arabella to purchase more fabrics. He coughed.

  “Only if you wish to,” he said, mentally setting aside his worries about the investors and the spice-business. “I had thought we were going to buy fabrics?”

  “Oh! Brother, you are the loveliest big brother in the county.” Arabella smiled. “Isn’t he lovely? I did so want to go to the village. You will love the village,” she said, beaming at Alexandra.