Henry smiled at her. ‘Cheer up, sis, it might never happen. Well, I must toddle on up to change. I have to collar Sefton and find out all I can about the Swan.’
‘I thought you’d dismissed the Swan as a nonentity.’
‘I have, but it never does to be complacent, especially when someone like Lewis Ardenley is involved. Besides, chit-chatting with Sefton will while away a pleasant hour or two, and whiling away the time’s all I have to do now until tomorrow morning.’
‘You could while it away making it up with Blanche.’
His smile faded. ‘The onus is on her, Jane, not me.’
‘Rubbish. You’re the one in need of manners, not Blanche.’
‘She was in the wrong at the theater and has been ever since.’
‘You’re being very stubborn.’
‘Then it must be a family trait, because you’ve given a splendid display of Derwent obstinacy where Lewis is concerned. Mind you, after what he’s done now, I can’t say I really blame you – the fellow’s a blackguard.’
‘Because he’s involved with the Swan?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re being very childish. But I don’t want to talk about Lewis. I’m more concerned about you and Blanche.’
‘Then don’t bother yourself, the whole matter is closed.’
‘Why won’t you admit that you still love her? You know that she loves you.’
‘Then let her come to me and tell me so.’
‘Why don’t you go to her and tell her so?’ she countered.
‘Because she’s in the wrong. Damn it, Jane, don’t start on your dog-with-a-bone act again, I’m not in the mood.’
‘Do you still love her?’ she asked again, determined to corner him.
He hesitated. ‘She made her choice at the theater.’
‘Answer me, Henry.’
‘Oh, very well, yes, of course I do, but I’m not crawling to her while Dursley’s still sniffing around.’
‘Isn’t she worth fighting for?’ Oh dear, how very familiar that was.
‘I’ll go to her after the race.’
‘After? Henry, on your own admission you have nothing to do today but while away the time – put that time to good use.’
‘I said after the race, and I meant it.’
‘You’re still being very shabby.’
‘She was in the wrong and so she can wait until I’m ready to let her have a chance to beg my forgiveness.’
He went on up the stairs then, leaving his incredulous sister to stare after him. Of all the pompous, conceited, arrogant, mutton-headed beasts, Henry, Earl of Felbridge, took the biscuit!
The rest of the day dragged by on leaden feet. Jane wanted it all over and done with now, but each hour seemed to tick by so slowly it was like a day in itself. She sat in the garden with her aunt, attempting to read The Corsair while her aunt continued with her tambour work. It was warm and sunny, promising well for the following day, and the sounds of London were muted by the more immediate drone of bees in the flowers, and by the full-throated song of the blackbird in the branches of the walnut tree.
She gazed at the page before her without really seeing it, for her thoughts were elsewhere, with Lewis Ardenley. He would be at the Feathers now, seeing that the brakes were fitted correctly to the new coach, because he wanted to be certain there was no risk to his costly horses. When that was done he was going to Maywood, to wait there during the race in case he should be needed at all, Maywood being placed so handily along the ground. She knew this from a hasty note he had dashed off to her aunt. The words of The Corsair swam before her. She couldn’t help remembering what he’d said the night before about her intentions toward Charles. Let him think it, because that at least would make it easier for her to face him when his forthcoming betrothal to Alicia was announced. Easier? It would never be easy.
‘Will you read aloud for me, my dear?’ There was no reply and the tambour hook stopped. ‘Jane?’
‘Mm?’
‘I asked you if you would read aloud for me.’
Jane smiled apologetically. ‘I’m so sorry, Aunt Derwent, I didn’t hear what you said.’
Her aunt smiled too. ‘You were many miles from this garden, weren’t you?’
‘Forgive me.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, my dear, for I’m sure I more than understand.’
Jane smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose you do.’
‘Well, perhaps now isn’t the time to talk about it. I was wondering if you would read to me for a while. I have a notion to hear a little of Lord Byron.’
‘Of course.’ Jane turned back to the beginning of the poem. ‘O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts are as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!’ Her reading was colorless and she knew it. She looked regretfully at her aunt. ‘I’m afraid I cannot do his lordship justice this afternoon.’
‘No, I think you are right. The wretched fellow may be wicked beyond belief in his private life, but his genius with the written word deserves a little more than you seem capable of giving today.’ Aunt Derwent put down her tambour hook. ‘I’m sorry that my foolishness brought things to such a sorry pass between you and Lewis.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘If I hadn’t rushed off to the Black Horse, yesterday’s, er, contretemps would not have occurred, you cannot deny that.’
‘It would have occurred at some point or other, Aunt Derwent, whether you’d gone there or not. Lewis and I are incapable of simple polite courtesy toward each other.’
Her aunt studied her for a moment. ‘Once you seemed almost one, one heart, one thought, one will, just as I was with the Duke of Wellington, and would be still if I’d had any sense of my own.’
‘I don’t think it’s the same.’
‘No? Well, no matter, there’s time enough for such deep discussions. My dear, why don’t you stay at the Feathers tonight?’
‘Stay there?’
‘Yes. Then you’ll be right on the spot and ready to take your place beside Mr Huggett on the box in the morning.’
Jane stared at her. ‘But I couldn’t possibly.’
‘Why not? Henry isn’t going to know, he’s staying at the Fleece until after the race, and besides, if he does return for some reason, I can tell him you’re indisposed with a headache. Ellen’s ill, I know, but it won’t hurt just this once if you toddle off on your own, and once there I daresay Miss Wheddle will be delighted to attend you and thus placate convention. Look, my dear, you don’t know what to do with yourself right now, do you? And you’re certainly not sparkling company, I can vouch for that. You need something to divert you, and there will be plenty going on at the Feathers, tonight of all nights. You could leave in less than an hour.’
‘Lewis might still be there.’
‘And if he is?’
‘I don’t want to see him.’
‘Then go this evening. I’m sure it would be the best thing for you.’
‘But what about you? I can’t simply rush off and leave you.’
‘As the senior member of the family here present, I’m advising you to go, and I shall be perfectly happy because I shall invite Blanche to dine with me. The matter’s settled, my dear. The decision’s been taken out of your hands – you’re going to the Feathers. I suggest you have Melville inform Thomas and then send someone ahead to warn them to expect you – I’m sure Miss Wheddle will want to prepare their best chamber.’
‘You seem almost anxious to be rid of me.’
‘You remind me a little too much of myself, when I was so very foolish about the Duke of Wellington. Now then, off you toddle to make your arrangements before we take tea. I will see you in the morning, when Blanche and I come to the Feathers ready to follow the Swan to the start.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Jane, have you considered what you’re going to wear tomorrow?’
‘Wear? No, not really.’
&nb
sp; ‘Excellent, then after tea we’ll go up and inspect your considerable wardrobe. I’m sure an agreeable hour or so can be passed deciding exactly what togs will be best for the occasion.’ She got up, putting a firm hand on her niece’s arm. ‘I’ll hear no more argument, my dear. The rest of your afternoon and the early evening has now been taken care of, and after that you are going to the Feathers.’
Jane got up as well then, setting her book down on the seat and then turning anxiously to her aunt. ‘You don’t think I’m being too shocking by being on the box during the race, do you?’
‘No, my dear, I don’t, but then you share my rather unusual spirit, don’t you? Besides, isn’t there a point to be made in all this? Was it not originally your intention to prove to Henry not only that his behavior is odious, but also that a woman is just as capable as a man of seeing a coach to victory in a race?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Why but? You must ride on the coach, my dear, and I’ll warrant that every woman in the realm will be cheering you on, even if mostly in secret. Blanche and I will not be secret, though, you may count upon it. We’ll be following you every inch of the way and showing them all that we support you. Men are tiresome creatures, Jane. They need shaking up now and then to show them that they’re the inferior sex. This is one of those times.’ Aunt Derwent sighed then. ‘Aye, tiresome they may be, but what would we do without them? Come along now, we’ll see that the carriage is ordered and then take tea, and after that your wardrobe will receive a visitation.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
The evening shadows were so long and dark as the town carriage conveyed Jane to the corner of Arlington Street that she knew it would not be long before the light had gone. Her portmanteau was on the seat beside her, containing what she would need overnight, and the clothes she and her aunt had chosen for her appearance on the Swan the next morning. It was strange to be without Ellen, but the poor maid really was indisposed, sneezing constantly. She suffered with hay fever each year and had only a day or so before been saying that it was a miracle how she’d escaped so far this summer; providence had evidently felt too tempted. Still, being alone at this particular time was perhaps the best thing, for it gave Jane time to think.
She had left her aunt and Blanche taking a cozy dinner à deux, the latter being worked on by the former to patch things up with Henry, but proving as stubborn as he was when it came to making that first all-important move.
Thomas drew the carriage to a standstill and Jane prepared to alight, to procure a hackney coach for the last time. Piccadilly was still crowded and along Arlington Street she could see Lord Sefton’s house, with a positive gaggle of sporting vehicles outside it, from cabriolets, curricles and gigs, to a phaeton almost as outlandish as Henry’s. Evidently, the marshal of the race was entertaining his fellow coaching enthusiasts to a congenial dinner on the eve of the great event, so that they could all talk about their pet subject to their hearts’ content. She wondered what they would have said had they known that a mere woman and not Lord Ardenley was the mastermind behind the Swan.
Thomas wished her well as she took her portmanteau and beckoned to one of the hackneys waiting nearby, but as she smiled and turned away from Ellen’s young man, she froze, for another carriage was approaching the corner, apparently making for Lord Sefton’s house; it carried a number of young sporting gentlemen, among them her brother. She could hear great hilarity – evidently they’d imbibed a little too much at a club – but Henry sat in almost morose silence by the window nearest to her. His expression was withdrawn and she knew instinctively that he was thinking about Blanche. She couldn’t have said why this conviction was so strong, but she was certain. He was gazing out without seeing, and although he stared directly at her carriage as he passed, he didn’t seem to see it at all.
She breathed out with relief as the noisy carriageload turned the corner and drove away toward Lord Sefton’s residence, where a moment later they all poured out and went rather rowdily to hammer on the elegant door. They were admitted and the street became peaceful again.
Her hackney carriage drew alongside then, and with a final smile at Thomas, she climbed into it and sat on the worn seat with her portmanteau. The little coach lurched away, its window glasses rattling alarmingly.
The streets were almost completely dark, the lamps shining above the pavements, as she drove across the city toward Cheapside. She felt better now that she’d taken her aunt’s advice, for if she’d stayed at South Audley Street she knew she’d have been dismal company. She was still a little uncertain about how she’d be if Lewis was still at the Feathers, but on reflection it seemed hardly likely that he was – he must have left now in order to be at Maywood for the race.
The little coach entered Cheapside, and quite suddenly she became aware of shouting somewhere ahead. At first she thought it must be yet another of the queen’s excursions, but then realized that the shouting was tinged with alarm. People were hurrying along the pavement in the same direction the hackney was traveling, and she lowered the glass to lean out and see what was happening. The air was acrid, and a little way ahead, just where the Feathers was, a pall of thick smoke cloaked the street. The Feathers was on fire!
Unable to proceed because of the crush of people, the hackneyman drew his vehicle to a standstill, unwilling to press through the smoke. Jane flung open the door and alighted, snatching up her portmanteau before putting the fare into the man’s outstretched hand. He looked concernedly down at her. ‘Don’t go that way, miss, it’s too dangerous!’
‘I must!’ she cried, gathering her skirts and hurrying away along the smoky pavement, where people were reduced to mere shapes and shadows by the thick, choking fumes. The smoke caught in her throat and stung her eyes, but in a moment the air was relatively clear because of the way the light breeze was blowing, and she could see the entrance of the inn. People were gathered there, staring through the archway and courtyard at the fire in the stables beyond. The leaping light from the flames dancing horridly on their faces and on the cobbles where they stood.
Jane was about to push through them to go inside when the sound of hooves and wheels echoed beneath the archway. One of the stableboys led a cabriolet out to safety, the frightened horse capering and tossing its head. It was Lewis’s cabriolet. He was still here! But was he safe? Alarm span wildly through her then and she pushed through the small crowd and hurried into the yard, where the breeze carried the smoke high over the inn and down into the street beyond. She could see the flames leaping beyond the inner archway, and the noise and roar of the conflagration was loud and fearsome, an eager, greedy crackling which told of how strong a hold the fire had upon the tinder-dry buildings.
There was pandemonium beyond as men dashed to and fro with buckets, trying to contain the flames while they waited for the insurance company’s fire engine to arrive. She searched each shadowy shape, but couldn’t make Lewis out among them. And what about the others? Were they all right?
Behind her came the sound of a jangling bell as the fire engine reached the inn, its team striking sparks from the gleaming cobbles as they clattered to a standstill in the yard. The firemen followed on foot, two teams of fourteen to take turns manning the engine’s long handles. They unharnessed the horses and then dragged the engine past Jane into the stableyard, where within moments it was at work, spraying water into the searing flames and adding another sound to the already deafening din, a hissing, bubbling roar as the fire resisted with all its might.
Jane moved slowly toward the inner archway, her heart thundering as she went through into the mayhem beyond. The flames leapt into the blackness of the sky above, sending a shower of sparks into the shimmering air. The heat was intense, beating against her face and making her throat more dry and painful than ever. Sparks were carried toward the adjacent properties to the west, and the firemen worked hard at their pumps to try and stop the fire spreading.
Jane searched the scene, hoping that each dimly seen figure would be
someone she knew, but they were all strangers. She cast around desperately for a familiar face, and then heard Betsy calling tearfully for her kitten as she searched a row of empty stables nearby, the horses having long since been removed to safety. ‘Tabitha? Oh, Tabitha, where are you?’
‘Betsy?’ Jane hurried gladly toward her. ‘Is everyone safe?’
The girl whirled about with a gasp. ‘Lady Jane! You shouldn’t be here – it’s dangerous!’
‘Is everyone safe?’ Jane asked again.
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Lord Ardenley?’
‘Yes, he’s helping Dad and the others put out what they can by the coachhouse. The new coach is in danger.’
‘How did the fire start?’
‘Will saw one of Chapman’s men hurrying away.’
Jane stared. ‘You don’t mean…?’
‘It’s no accident, Lady Jane.’
Dismayed, Jane glanced around at the dreadful scene again. It was all her fault – her foolishness had put them all in danger! And it might mean the end of the Feathers!
Betsy touched her arm. ‘Have you seen Tabitha, my lady?’
‘No.’
‘I can’t find her anywhere. She’s terrified of fire.’
‘I’ll help you look. Have you searched those stables over there?’ She pointed through the smoke and heat to the other side of the yard.
‘No, my lady. I’ve only just realized she’s not safe in the kitchens.’
‘I’ll go that way then,’ said Jane, putting down her portmanteau and hurrying across the slippery cobbles where water from the engines had begun to spill.
The jet forced out by the pumping men made a boiling roar all the time, and the flames recoiled a little, their brilliance shining in the collecting puddles and reflecting in lurid shapes on the walls of the surrounding buildings. The firemen were chanting, working rhythmically at the pumps. She reached the other stables and began to look in each one, and she didn’t see the sparks settle on the roof above, taking hold and springing into small flames which began to lick stealthily along the eaves before slipping inside the building, to burn unseen for an almost fatal minute or two more.
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