Lady Jane's Ribbons

by Sandra Wilson

  Jane nodded sadly. ‘What can we do now? If we give him some black coffee—’

  ‘He’ll sober up a little, but not enough. He’s too far gone, Lady Jane, and the hangover he’s going to have will stop him thinking quickly enough for the race.

  ‘But we can’t just give up.’

  ‘We have to, unless we can find another coachman in time.’

  ‘What about Will? He’s been doing the Brighton run, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He’s adequate, Lady Jane, but that’s all. He’s better than Johno, but he lacks his father’s genius.’

  ‘But if Johno’s not good enough, Will’s all we have.’

  ‘Aye, he’s all we have. Lord Ardenley’s the right man, but he’s out at Maywood and we’d never get word to him in time, even supposing he’d agree to do it if he was asked.’

  Outside, the messenger returned with the doctor and so they hurried down again to see how the injured guard was. The man had regained consciousness now and confirmed that in the second before he’d been struck he’d recognized the intruder as a man from the Black Horse, once a close friend of Arthur’s. The guard was taken to his own room and given a draft of laudanum to ease the pain and help him to sleep. Then Jane, Betsy, and Jacob sat forlornly around the kitchen table, drinking tea and wondering how Will was going to take the news that not only had his father let them down but he was going to have to drive the Swan in the race.

  At six o’clock, Cheapside echoed with the noise of the mail coaches on their way to Lombard Street, and the first street calls began to be heard. Through the open window Jane could see the ravages of the fire in the stables and she looked at Jacob. ‘You mustn’t worry about payment for the damage, I regard that as my responsibility.’

  ‘Oh, no, Lady Jane, I couldn’t possibly agree to that.’

  ‘I insist, Jacob,’ she said, putting the matter on a very personal basis by using his first name. She smiled a little. ‘Please don’t refuse, for it is the very least I can do after visiting all this upon you.’

  ‘I shall not deny that I’m relieved, Lady Jane,’ he admitted then, the gladness plain in his eyes, ‘for I couldn’t see how I was going to keep the old Feathers going.’

  ‘Have whatever repairs and rebuilding done that you require, and send the bills to Mr Payne.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady, and I say that from the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘And from the bottom of my heart I say how sorry I am to have caused all this. I really had no idea what I was stirring up that day I came to you with my crack-brained notions of teaching my brother a lesson.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Well, it seems that Mr Chapman is going to have his way after all, for as you say, without Arthur I doubt if the Swan has much of a chance.’

  Outside, the sun was quite high in the sky and a small crowd had gathered as Lewis’s horses were brought back by Will and his small band of helpers.

  Betsy immediately hurried out to tell him what had happened, and through the window Jane saw how his face drained of color. He came slowly into the kitchen, turning his hat nervously in his hands as he looked at Jane and Jacob. ‘I – I can’t do it,’ he blurted out. ‘I’m just not good enough, not for a race like this.’

  Jacob held his gaze. ‘If you don’t do it, Will, the Swan won’t even get to the starting line.’

  ‘Can’t someone be sent to fetch Lord Ardenley? He’s the finest whip I know!’ pleaded Will.

  Jacob shook his head. ‘There’s no time, or guarantee that his lordship would agree.’

  Betsy squeezed Will’s hand. ‘Please, my love, do it for me.’

  ‘But Betsy….’

  ‘Please.’

  He looked down into her adoring eyes and then gave a reluctant nod. ‘All right, Betsy, for you I’ll try.’

  Jacob got up then, grinning and clapping the younger man on the back. ‘That’s my laddo, you have a go! If you’d kept on saying no, I’d have known you weren’t man enough to take my Betsy on as a wife. Now then, let’s get on up and see if we can sober up that old fool of a father of yours; he may not be fit to drive today, but there’s still a lot of advice he can give you about how to take those other two on.’

  It was possible to rouse Arthur now, and as Jacob had predicted, he had the grandfather of all hangovers. His face was ashen and his eyes hollow, and he felt so guilty about letting them down that he was almost in tears. He was utterly wretched and could only say that he’d been so pleased to see his old friend Fred Green that he hadn’t thought it at all suspicious to have him turn up out of the blue like that. He’d only intended to have one glass, for old time’s sake, never meaning that glass to lead to another and another. He shook his head in bewilderment, unable to believe that that one glass had had such an immediate effect.

  Betsy picked up the empty bottle and as she sniffed it she realized straightaway that it had contained more than just gin – there had been something added to the liquor. Arthur felt a little better after hearing this, but he still blamed himself for letting them all down.

  Preparations for the race continued, but there was a lack of heart in everyone now because it was believed that Chapman had succeeded in nobbling the Swan, as the latest slang went for such a situation. Men polished the coach’s brasswork and panels, and grooms attended to the horses until their coats gleamed, while in the kitchens, becoming more and more sober as the minutes passed, Arthur did his best to instruct the unhappy Will about every inch of the ground from Tower Hill to the Steyne. Cup after cup of Betsy’s strongest coffee cleared his head a great deal, but nowhere near enough to contemplate risking his taking the Swan’s ribbons.

  News of the fire was all over Town, and word of the goings-on of the night somehow leaked out as well, so that a large crowd was now waiting outside the inn, including a number of elegant carriages as those members of society who hadn’t been able to find a place in the crush on Tower Hill decided to view the Swan’s departure instead.

  Blanche and Aunt Derwent still hadn’t arrived when Betsy at last finished helping Jane dress for the race. The freshness of lavender filled the room from the bunches placed in the wardrobe the night before, and the summery perfume seemed to envelop Jane as she looked at her reflection in the plain mirror on the dressing table. She and her aunt had decided she should wear a sunny yellow for the race, an eye-catching shade which brought out to perfection her clear complexion and glossy dark hair. The frilled muslin pelisse and matching gown were the work of Madame Louise, as was the Leghorn bonnet, beneath the brim of which had been pinned lots of little very pale blue flowers. She carried a blue reticule and pagoda parasol, and her blue gloves had been intricately embroidered by her aunt with the very finest tambourwork.

  Betsy stepped back to admire her. ‘You look lovely, Lady Jane.’

  ‘I wish I felt as brave now as I did when I first embarked on all this.’

  ‘We’re going to win, my lady. Will’s a good coachman; he’ll bring the Swan in first.’ But the words were spoken with less than full conviction, for the girl, no matter how loyally she praised her lover, knew in her heart that he didn’t have his father’s talent and didn’t really stand much of a chance, even with Lewis’s prime bloodstock and a fine new coach. She went to the window, peeping down into the courtyard where the horses were being harnessed now and Arthur was instructing Will about the new brakes. ‘I wish I was going to be following the race,’ she said wistfully. ‘I’d love to be there to cheer my Will on.’

  ‘Put on your best mantle then. I’m sure you’d be welcome to travel with Lady Agatha and Miss Lyndon.’

  Betsy’s eyes shone. ‘Could I really?’

  ‘Be quick now, for they might arrive at any moment.’

  The girl was gone in a flash, and from the window Jane watched her hurry down the gallery steps and vanish in the direction of her own room.

  In the courtyard, the Swan was looking splendid now, its polished panels reflecting like mirrors, the letters on them so proud and defiant that they seemed ready to tau
nt the two other coaches: Swan. London and Brighton. Reigate. Handcross. J. E. Wheddle & Co. License No. 3224. Lewis’s horses had had their manes plaited and ribboned as fashionably as any carriage team, and were stamping and snorting now, impatient to be off as they became infected with the growing excitement from the crowd in the street.

  More hooves sounded suddenly and a little curricle drove into the yard. For a breathless moment she thought it might be Lewis, but then realized that it was Charles. Why had he come? Had something happened to Aunt Derwent or Blanche? Anxiously, she hurried out onto the gallery to call down to him as he alighted from the little vehicle and handed the reins to a waiting boy. ‘Charles? Is something wrong?’

  He looked quickly up and smiled. ‘No, nothing’s wrong, I’ve just come to wish you bon chance.’ He came up the steps toward her, the spurs on his boots jingling lightly. He wore a pale green coat and dark gray trousers, and the sunlight caught his light brown, wavy hair as he removed his top hat to bow over her hand. ‘Forgive me, Jane, I didn’t think I’d alarm you.’

  ‘I’m the one who should be asking forgiveness, but I’m so edgy at the moment that I think the worst at every turn.’

  His hazel eyes were very clear as he looked down into her pale face. ‘I didn’t just come to wish you bon chance, I came because I heard about the fire and wanted to be certain you were all right.’

  ‘As you can see, I’m quite all right.’ It was better not to tell him how close to death she’d come.

  ‘You look very lovely.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I still wish you wouldn’t go on the Swan in the race.’

  ‘Charles….’

  ‘It’s all right, I’m not going to be difficult.’ He smiled. ‘Not very long ago I asked you to marry me and you turned me down, but I said that I wouldn’t give up. So, here I am, asking you for your hand again.’

  She looked at him in puzzlement, for now was rather an odd time to choose. ‘Charles, are you sure nothing’s wrong?’

  ‘Must there be something wrong for a man to propose to the woman he loves?’

  ‘No, of course not, it’s just that … well, nothing really.’

  ‘What is your answer, Jane?’

  She lowered her eyes then. ‘I can’t marry you, Charles, because I don’t love you enough.’

  He turned away a little, gazing down at the coach in the yard below. ‘Is that your last word?’

  ‘It has to be. You deserve so much more than I could give you, Charles, and I know that in time you’ll find the right woman for you.’

  ‘You are that woman, Jane.’

  ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m not, and if you’re honest with yourself, and with me, you’ll admit that you know it too.’

  He was silent for a moment, his cane tapping thoughtfully against his boot, then he faced her again. ‘Maybe I do know it, but that doesn’t stop me from loving you with all my heart. Nor does it stop me from telling you something which will dash my chances forever but which will no doubt gladden your foolish heart more than anything else in the world.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Alicia has returned to her husband.’

  Jane was stunned. ‘I – I beg your pardon?’

  ‘The Duke and Duchess of Brantingham are reconciled.’

  ‘But I thought the duke wanted a divorce.’

  ‘He did, and the thought apparently galvanized Alicia into action.’

  ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘I had it from someone who spoke with Alicia herself this morning.’ He smiled a little. ‘She isn’t generally out and about at such an unearthly hour, but it seems that she and the duke are going to follow the race to London. I encountered them as they were on their way to the Monument, where I understand they intend to join the mill when it passes.’

  Jane was staring at him. ‘When did she return to her husband?’

  ‘Several days ago, I believe. It seems that at dinner at Grillion’s Lewis persuaded her of her true feelings.’

  Jane looked away then. At Grillion’s? That must have been after Alicia had so brazenly entered the house in South Audley Street. But why hadn’t Lewis mentioned anything about it?

  ‘Jane, I confess to being taken aback by your reaction. I expected you to be over the moon because your way to Lewis is now surely clear.’

  ‘Is it? I don’t think the way will ever be entirely clear. Charles. He must have known that Alicia had gone back to the duke, but he hasn’t said anything to me.’

  ‘I see. Well, I’ve done the honorable thing, and now I can only hope that one day you’ll forget Ardenley and see me for the fine upright fellow I am.’ He smiled, putting a gloved hand to her cheek. ‘Good luck, Jane. I wish you every happiness, and if that happiness means winning Lewis Ardenley, then so be it.’

  She stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘You’re far too good for me, Charles.’

  ‘I know,’ he replied lightly. ‘By the way, I trust Henry is feeling buoyant this morning.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because not only is Blanche going to be following the race but I understand from one of Dursley’s less loyal cronies that the infernal duke is too. No doubt he’s hoping to see Henry come unstuck so that he can rush gleefully back to tell Blanche – except that if he did but know it, she’s going to be following as well. Anyway, I’ve sent a note to Henry warning him about Dursley’s presence. Forwarned is forearmed, and it wouldn’t do for the shock of Dursley’s foxy face to overturn the Iron Duke at the first ditch!’

  ‘I wish Dursley would overturn at the first ditch,’ she replied with feeling.

  ‘Tut, tut, that’s not the Christian thing, my dear.’

  ‘I know.’

  Down in the courtyard, Will appeared ready for the off. He wore the fine new clothes Arthur had ordered for the race, but he looked utterly miserable as he listened to his father’s last-minute instructions. He wore a white top hat like Sewell’s, and there was a nosegay of fresh flowers in the lapel of his brown coat. He carried a fine new whip and had somehow squeezed his rather large feet into his father’s new boots, but they pinched his toes and made him shift uncomfortably from time to time as he listened to what Arthur was saying about the brakes.

  Charles waited a moment more and then tapped on his top hat. ‘Well, I’ll toddle along now. I hope to find someone at Brooks’s to give me a game of billiards.’

  ‘Aren’t you following the race?’

  ‘No, I think not. I don’t think I could bear to see you perched up on that wretched box in all sorts of danger. Besides, if I follow you to Brighton, I’ll only be tempted to propose to you again, and that wouldn’t do at all, would it?’ He leaned over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. ‘Good-bye, Jane, and good luck.’

  ‘Good-bye, Charles.’

  He descended the steps, pausing to wish Will good luck as well before climbing into the curricle and leaving again. Will gazed after him, not knowing who he was beyond the fact that he was obviously a fine gentleman, one of Lord Ardenley’s friends, no doubt. Then the coachman returned his attention to the Swan. His expression was almost sickly, for he was wishing with all his heart that he was asleep and only dreaming all this.

  Betsy came into the courtyard to join him. She wore a white-ribboned straw bonnet and a new cream linen mantle, and she took his hand, stretching up to whisper that she’d be following the race.

  Blanche’s landau arrived at last, its hoods up because of the dust which would undoubtedly be churned up on the road. Blanche alighted, looking very lovely indeed in a pink pelisse over a white lawn gown, a matching pink hat resting on her chestnut hair. Aunt Derwent stepped down next, looking particularly splendid in white-dotted turquoise, her hair almost entirely concealed beneath a dignified turban from which sprang tiny white aigrettes.

  Jane went down to greet them and saw immediately that they’d heard about Alicia. ‘Jane,’ said Blanche urgently, drawing her aside, ‘have you heard…?’ />
  ‘That Alicia has gone back to the duke? Yes, Charles told me.’

  ‘Are you glad about it?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. No, if I’m honest I’m not glad, because it hasn’t made any difference. Lewis knew about it but he didn’t tell me, which can only mean that he’s indifferent to me.’

  ‘That’s one thing he’ll never be,’ declared her aunt, coming to join them.

  ‘What else am I to think?’

  ‘That he probably thinks you’re going to marry Charles,’ replied her aunt candidly. ‘Think about it, my dear – we did come in and find you entwined in each other’s arms the other night.’

  ‘It wasn’t what it seemed.’

  ‘No doubt, but how is Lewis to know that?’

  Jane looked away, for she knew that Lewis did think there was something between her and Charles, and she knew that she hadn’t said anything to disillusion him.

  Aunt Derwent was still eyeing her. ‘Jane, I suggest that the first moment you have, you tell Lewis what’s what.’

  Jane didn’t answer.

  Blanche had been looking curiously at Will and Arthur. ‘Jane, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that Will dressed in race finery?’

  ‘Yes. Arthur’s, er, indisposed.’

  Then Blanche noticed the fire damage. ‘Oh, no! What on earth has been happening here?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Blanche, and Betsy will be able to tell you all about it on the way to Brighton.’

  ‘Betsy?’

  ‘She wants to be there to cheer Will on. You won’t mind taking her with you, will you?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Betsy heard and smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you, Miss Lyndon.’

  It was time to go, for Will climbed up onto the box and took up the reins. Jane’s nerve almost failed her then. ‘Oh, Aunt Derwent, I feel positively ill!’

  Her aunt put a concerned hand to her cheek. ‘Now then, my girl, if you’re likely to have the vapors, it will be better if you travel with us instead of going on the Swan.’