She explained a little breathlessly, glad of the reassurance his hand gave her.
His gray eyes darkened as her story unfolded. ‘Chapman should be strung up!’ he breathed. ‘But you still haven’t explained why you’re so far behind. The business with the sheep would explain two minutes away, but not five.’
‘Will’s hurt his hand rather badly. He’s in a lot of pain, Lewis.’
He looked quickly at the unhappy coachman. ‘Is this true, Will?’
‘Yes, my lord. I only wish it wasn’t. I wasn’t doing that well before it happened, but now….’ His voice trailed miserably away and he shook his head. ‘I’m just not up to it, my lord. Even with both my hands good I haven’t got what it takes for something like this.’
Jane looked equally as miserable. ‘Oh, Lewis, we’re going to fail utterly, and it just isn’t fair!’ She felt foolishly close to tears.
His hand tightened over hers. ‘I think you should wait here for Blanche to arrive and go the rest of the way with her. In safety.’
‘No! No, Lewis, I won’t hear of it! I’m going to stay with the Swan!’
He studied her insistent, rather dusty face for a moment and then smiled. ‘Yes, I rather see that you are,’ he said softly, ‘which means that I must too.’ He dismounted then, glancing at the grooms, who had unharnessed the old team and were leading them away while the fresh horses were brought forward.
Lord Sefton’s cabriolet was fast approaching along the road now, together with the Duke of Dursley and the rest of the little coterie of light vehicles, but of the carriages of the other followers there was as yet no sign. Lewis hurried over to the yellow curricle. ‘Good day to you, my lord.’
The marshal tipped his top hat back and gave a wry smile. ‘After the Swan’s abysmal performance so far, I’ll refrain from wishing you a good day in return, Ardenley.’
‘It isn’t the Swan’s fault, not by a long chalk. There’s been more than a little interference from Chapman.’
‘I take it you’re referring to the fire?’
‘And the nobbling of Arthur Huggett, to say nothing of sheep blocking the way before Sutton.’
Lord Sefton stared at him. ‘Sheep? So that’s why I nearly caught the Swan up! I couldn’t understand why it was suddenly so close. Chapman’s a tricky customer, and no mistake. If I actually catch him at it, I’ll have his conniving guts for garters.’
‘I’m tricky enough myself when need be,’ replied Lewis. ‘Tell me, is there any reason why I shouldn’t drive the Swan from now on?’
‘You?’ Lord Sefton grinned. ‘No reason at all, dear boy.’
‘And is there anything in the rules which lays down the exact route which must be followed?’
‘Not as far as I know. Why?’
‘If foul means are Chapman’s order of the day, then I can match him.’
The marshal cleared his throat uncomfortably, leaning closer to prevent the nearby gentlemen from hearing. ‘Ardenley, I must warn you that if I see anything untoward, I shall be forced to disqualify you.’
‘Oh, there won’t be anything like that. I intend to content myself with legal trickery, I promise you.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ Lord Sefton glanced at Jane, who was watching them anxiously from a distance. ‘Is your interest due to the lovely lady?’
‘Why should it be?’
‘Because I can’t imagine that you really meant to settle for the fool’s gold of Brantingham when you could have had the real thing in Felbridge’s delightful sister.’
‘I didn’t settle for anything, sir; it was settled for me.’ Lewis turned to look back at the coach, where his grooms had almost completed the change of team.
The noise of the following stream of carriages was beginning to fill the air now and then the first one appeared around the bend in the road behind them. Lord Sefton nodded at Lewis. ‘Hadn’t you better get on with it, then? Time, the Iron Duke, and the Nonpareil wait for no man.’
Lewis hurried back to the Swan, where Will had climbed down now and was pacing nervously up and down, trying to flex his aching hand. He turned sharply as he heard Lewis approaching. ‘My lord?’
‘I’ll take over, Will; you’re in no condition to carry on.’
Will couldn’t hide his relief. ‘I’m sorry to have failed you all, my lord.’
‘You didn’t fail, man, you did damned well! Driving a coach and four with an injured hand is no easy matter.’
Will smiled with pleasure at the praise. ‘Thank you for that, my lord.’
‘Credit where credit’s due,’ answered Lewis, climbing lightly up onto the box next to Jane. Then he leaned down to Will again, nodding toward Blanche’s landau which had at that moment drawn up behind Lord Sefton and right alongside the Duke of Dursley’s purple cabriolet. ‘Go to Miss Lyndon, Will; I’m sure she’ll gladly convey you the rest of the way.’
‘I’ll do that, sir. Good luck.’
‘We’ll need it,’ replied Lewis, gathering the ribbons and watching the Duke of Dursley, who was doing his utmost to attract Blanche’s attention and was being ignored for his pains. Then he looked at Jane for a moment. ‘Well, madam, it seems you must trust yourself to my care for the rest of the race.’
‘I do so gladly.’
‘Gladly? I’m overcome by such enthusiasm.’
‘I mean it, Lewis.’
He met her gaze for a moment. ‘Yes, I can see that you do,’ he said softly. ‘I wonder what Charles would say? However, first things first, so let’s see what we can do about this race, eh?’ He nodded at the waiting grooms, who released the horses. At a barely perceptible command, the team sprang eagerly forward, moving the Swan swiftly on its way once more.
Will dashed across to the landau, where a curious Blanche had opened the door to see what was happening. Still ignoring the rather cross Duke of Dursley, she called out to Will, ‘What’s wrong? Why has the Swan lost so much time?’
‘I’ll explain, Miss Lyndon, if you’ll please be so kind as to take me with you.’
She nodded, sitting quickly back for him to climb in.
Aunt Derwent looked a little sternly at him. ‘Sir, Betsy has already regaled us with dreadful tales of fires and my niece’s miraculous escape from death. I do trust that you aren’t going to give me further reason for recourse to the sal volatile.’
Will looked uncertainly at her as the landau lurched forward once more. ‘I don’t know what you mean, my lady, but what I’ve got to tell isn’t good.’ He told them what had been happening and Aunt Derwent tapped her parasol crossly on the floor of the swaying coach. ‘That wretched, wretched Mr Chapman! Just wait until I catch up with him in Brighton – he’ll wish he’d never been born!’
On the Swan, Jane felt as if she was flying now, for somehow Lewis managed to coax that little bit extra from the horses. The flower-dotted meadows of the weald passed swiftly by, the hedgerows bending to the rush of air as the coach thundered along the dusty highway. She felt a surge of excitement now, a thrill which she hadn’t experienced before, for she knew that Lewis was a different class of driver entirely from the unfortunate Will. She remembered that even Henry had grudgingly admitted that he considered Lewis to be the finest whip in the land, and now, as the Swan dashed through the countryside toward Crawley and the next change, she knew exactly what her brother had meant. She could almost feel the seconds being snatched back, and knew that no other man could have better negotiated the bends, ascents, and descents or covered the flat ground at such speed. Whereas Will had visibly driven the coach, Lewis seemed hardly to move. His commands were subtle, sometimes barely discernible, but he achieved far more, making the horses seem fresh when they must have begun to tire. Glancing behind, she saw that Lord Sefton and his friends were having difficulty keeping up, and there was no sign at all of the following throng of carriages. She wanted to laugh aloud with anticipation, and her eyes shone.
Lewis glanced at her and grinned. ‘I see you begin to appreciate the lure
of coaching,’ he said, his voice raised above the rush of wind and the noise of the coach.
‘Yes, I do! Oh, Lewis, can we possibly catch them up?’
‘Going the way I intend to go, the answer has to be yes,’ he answered rather mysteriously.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Wait and see.’ He returned his attention to the road then, easing the team over the brow of a hill and then gently applying the brakes so that the Swan slid down the incline without putting any strain at all on the horses. There was no jarring or jolting as there would have been with Will, just a smooth flowing motion which didn’t seem to check the coach’s speed at all.
The crowds of Crawley passed in a blur, she hardly saw them, she was too intent upon the knowledge that gradually they must be catching up with the other two coaches. She didn’t glance at the George Inn, and she could hardly bear it when Lewis halted the tired horses for his grooms to change them. Seeing him on the box, the men worked as fast as they could, informing him that the Iron Duke was still in the lead, and that both coaches had passed by only four minutes before. Jane’s excitement grew. Only four minutes! Oh, hurry, please hurry!
The change was completed in less time than usual, and then the Swan was speeding on its way, driving swiftly up through the cool greenness of Peasepottage Forest on its way to the fourth change at Maywood.
As they emerged from the forest and saw the South Downs beginning to loom in the distance ahead, she searched the road for a sign of the other two coaches, for surely they would soon see them! But there was nothing and they passed through Handcross, where more crowds were waiting, without seeing their quarry.
It was just outside Handcross, before they reached the gates of Maywood where the next change of horses would be waiting, that they at last saw the Iron Duke, but it was in circumstances which made Jane gasp with horror and alarm, for the magnificent coach was overturned in a ditch, with a small crowd of farm laborers gathered around it from the field where they’d been working.
Lewis immediately began to rein the Swan in, and Jane stared anxiously for a sign of her brother. The coach lay there, its beautiful paintwork scratched and spoiled, its axle quite obviously broken, while the horses, shaken but not injured, were being tended to by several of the men in smocks.
As the Swan at last came to a standstill, she saw Henry, leaning against the side of the Iron Duke, his face ashen and stained with blood from a cut on his forehead. With a mixed cry of relief and anxiety, she scrambled down from the box and ran to him. ‘Henry! Are you all right?’
He was very shaken, but managed to catch her close, hugging her reassuringly. ‘Yes, sis. I took a nasty tumble but no bones are broken.’
‘Oh, thank God, thank God!’ There were tears on her cheeks as she clung to him.
He smiled a little, stroking her hair. ‘Ah, so I’m back in your good books again, am I?’
‘Of course you are,’ she whispered. ‘You were never really out of them, you just left a few pages dog-eared now and then.’
Lewis joined them then. ‘You’re all right, Henry?’
‘Just about. The poor old Duke isn’t though.’
‘What happened?’
Henry nodded toward the silent group of workers. ‘There were two others, strangers I gather. They flung a log of wood through the wheels as I was passing. I didn’t stand a chance.’
‘And they hopped it, I suppose?’
‘Like stags into that wood over there.’
‘Chapman?’
‘Well, since I hardly imagine it was the Swan’s connections, I have to think that he’s the villain of the piece. Besides, I recognize their descriptions.’
Lewis smiled a little. ‘He usually is.’ He looked at the wrecked coach, and the ugly piece of wood which had shattered the spokes of the wheels and brought the whole vehicle crashing so dangerously into the ditch. Chapman was ruthless beyond belief.
Henry looked curiously at Lewis then. ‘You’ve taken up the ribbons again then?’
‘The time seemed, er, appropriate.’
‘You’ll never catch that son of a jackal – he’s long since gone on his way. He must be at Maywood by now.’
‘I’ll catch him.’
‘You better had, dear boy; my £50,000 is depending on you. Besides, the Iron Duke must be avenged for the indignity that’s been heaped upon it.’ He glanced at Jane. ‘Am I forgiven enough for you to avenge the poor old Duke?’
‘Of course you are.’
‘Was I really that bad?’
‘Worse.’
‘Oh, cruel heart.’
She smiled.
At that moment, Lord Sefton’s curricle appeared along the road, closely followed by the Duke of Dursley, who didn’t hide his delight to see the Iron Duke turned over in so demeaning a way.
Lord Sefton reined his bays in swiftly and came over to them. ‘What on God’s earth happened?’
Lewis quickly told him, and the marshal’s face darkened with cold anger. ‘That’s it! I won’t brook any more from that blackguard Chapman! I’ll see to it that he loses his license and never regains it! And to think that he’s going to get into Brighton first!’
‘Oh no he isn’t,’ said Lewis quietly.
Lord Sefton look at him as if he was mad. ‘How can you say that given the lead he’s got now? Dammit, man, he’d have to go backward not to get in first!’
‘Maywood’s not that far ahead,’ explained Lewis, ‘and where Chapman has to go around it, I am at liberty to cut straight across. You did say there was no hard-and-fast rule about the route, didn’t you?’
Lord Sefton stared at him for a moment and then a slow grin spread across his good-natured face. ‘That’s right, you can go any way you like so long as you get to Brighton, and if you cut out that loop you’ll gain at least ten minutes. But is that enough?’
Lewis nodded. ‘Enough for me.’
‘Have a care at Bolney, for if he knows you’ve got him in your sights, the lord alone knows what he might resort to to stop you.’
‘I’ll be on my guard, of that you may be sure.’
The following carriages were beginning to catch up now, Blanche’s landau still valiantly in the forefront. Leaning from her window and seeing what had happened to the Iron Duke, she gave an audible cry of dismay and gestured frantically for her coachman to stop as close as possible. Then she was running like the wind toward Henry, her ribbons fluttering and her eyes bright with tears. ‘Henry! Oh, Henry, my love! Are you all right?’
‘Blanche?’ He went to meet her, swinging her into his arms and kissing her on the lips in front of them all. ‘Don’t cry, my sweet,’ he murmured, showering kisses all over her face. ‘I’m all right, it’s all right….’
Lord Sefton tipped his top hat back on his head. ‘Well, that’s them sorted out, I suppose. But we’ve a race to get on with, Ardenley, and the longer you dilly-dally here, the further ahead that damned rat’s going to get.’
Lewis caught Jane’s hand. ‘Come, my lady, we’d best be on our way.’
They ran back to the Swan, just as the Duke of Dursley, furious to realize that Henry’s overturn had had the opposite effect upon Blanche to the one expected, turned his purple cabriolet in the middle of the road and drove away again back toward Handcross, causing considerable difficulty and danger to the stream of carriages pouring in the opposite direction. Through the dust which still swirled above the company, Jane distinctly heard the furious curses of the other coachmen as they informed His Grace of Dursley what they thought of him.
Lewis lifted her lightly onto the box again and then vaulted up beside her. He grinned at her. ‘Hold on to your bonnet, madam, we’re about to take to the air!’ Then, with a sharp click of his tongue, he stirred the team into action again. They pushed into their collars, coming up to a swift pace and leaving the scene of the accident far behind.
Within a minute or so the north lodge of Maywood loomed ahead, and the fresh team attended by their grooms. The men’s
jaws dropped with astonishment when they saw Lewis himself with the ribbons and none other than Lady Jane Derwent beside him. They set about changing the horses, while Lewis learned that the Nonpareil had passed some nine minutes earlier. By his calculations that meant that Chapman was actually ten minutes ahead, for it would take another minute to complete the change of team. If his arithmetic was right, the Swan should emerge from the south lodge gates at precisely the same time the Nonpareil was due to pass. It would be close, and if the Nonpareil managed to pass the gate first, it would be very difficult to get in front again, Sewell not being one to behave according to the rules on the king’s highway.
The grooms had almost finished, and the one in charge looked up a little uncertainly. ‘I don’t like the look of that trace, my lord.’
Jane stared where he was pointing. ‘It’s the one we had trouble with at Sutton!’
Lewis nodded at the man. ‘Will it do?’
‘I reckon so, but keep an eye on it.’
‘Jane, you’ll have to watch it. Tell me if there’s the slightest sign of anything wrong.’
‘All right.’
He gathered the ribbons, pausing for a moment then before bending his head toward her and kissing her very briefly on the lips. ‘For luck,’ he murmured.
Then the grooms were standing back and he was urging the coach forward again, through the open wrought-iron gates where the cool shadow of the copper beech dappled the drive, and then on up the long, straight incline toward the great house.
Jane’s heart was singing. Could she hope that fleeting kiss had meant anything? Dared she hope?
THIRTY-THREE
The appearance of a public stagecoach in Maywood’s elegant park caused a great deal of amazement. A line of men scything the grass paused to stare as the Swan swept past, and they hastily removed their hats as they saw that it was Lord Ardenley himself on the box.
Wheels crunching and gravel scattering, the coach dashed on toward the house. A small herd of red deer fled in alarm, making for the shelter of the trees by the lakes, while from the kennels to the west of the house came the sound of excited baying as the hounds picked up the change in the hitherto tranquil atmosphere pervading the estate.
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