Regency Belles & Beaux

by Michele McGrath

  The kitchen was deserted. The glow of the banked-up fire gave sufficient light to show her that the back door was barred and locked. Several keys hung on a nail in the wall. She caught up the bunch and tried them in the lock. The third one turned with a muffled thump. She turned the key in the lock before drawing the bolts. The last bolt was stiff and squeaked, bringing her heart into her mouth. Although the sound seemed to echo in the empty room, no one came to investigate. She stepped out into the yard, giving thanks for the moonlight, so she could see her surroundings. The yard was full of obstacles and it would be easy to trip in darkness. She withdrew the key, locked the door on the outside and hid the key beneath a convenient box.

  I shall need it later, she thought, hoping that her return might be as simple as her exit had been. When she made opened the gate into the mews behind the house, a figure loomed out of the shadows and she jumped.

  “Alice?”

  “Oh Philip, how you startled me,” she said as she took his hand and let him lead her to the waiting coach.

  Philip had hired a small dog-cart with two fast horses harnessed to it. He untied the reins himself and swung up into the carriage. No one else was visible.

  “No point in letting others know our business, now is there?” he asked as he drew a rug over Alice’s knees. “I won’t overturn you but hold on, for I am going to spring them,” he told her.

  The miles passed swiftly. Philip concentrated on holding the two lively ones to the moonlit road, but as they neared their destination, he told Alice his plans for the evening. He had arranged to meet his servant in the lane that led to Staunton's manor. Jacques was to visit his dairymaid again. He hoped to be able to convince her to give him access to the house and to discover the location of Celia Staunton's bedroom. He would also warn them if Staunton had returned. Jacques had sent no warning, so Philip presumed that the master of the house was absent. Alice asked what part he expected her to play in this adventure. He told her that he wanted her to take care of Celia if she was in a distressed state.

  “You can assist her better than I can. I have little experience of women’s ailments.”

  “Why me Philip? I am no nurse and have never met a person who is suffering anxiety. I might make the situation worse by accident.”

  “You won’t. You’re too sensible for that. If Celia comes with us tonight, she’s certain to be frightened and deeply apprehensive at least, even if she is in no physical discomfort. I can’t trust anyone else but you. You will help me, won’t you?”

  “Of course, but what do you intend to do once you have her?”

  “Take her to Dover and board the first packet to France.”

  “You don’t expect me to come with you, do you? I told you I can’t leave Aunt Maitland or Kitty like that. I must return before the servants are stirring. That leaves us very little time.”

  “I’ll try to bring you back as quickly as I can. I’ll set you down at Aunt Maitland’s house before Celia and I go to Dover.”

  “What if we are pursued?”

  “If Staunton is not at Kew, I don’t fear that. I doubt he would take any of the servants into his confidence. According to the dairymaid, none of them like him at all. If he is at home, we will come away and try again another night after he has left.”

  “Oh.” Alice could think of nothing else to say, but she did not relish the sound of that at all. She did not want to spend her nights sneaking out of her aunt’s house in the faint hope that Staunton was absent. Once was enough. She crossed her fingers and wished hard.

  In a little over an hour later, Kew was reached and Philip turned down the lane to Staunton’s manor. Bright moonlight lay upon the path. At first Alice could see nothing, no house, no waiting servant, only the flicker of trees blowing gently in the wind. She blinked and, when she looked again, a figure had stepped out of the bushes and was coming up to the carriage.

  “Monsieur?”

  “Bon soir, Jacques, what is happening?”

  “The master isn’t at home and hasn’t been for some weeks. They do not know when he will come again. The lady is there and I have found out where her room is. Annie showed me. Annie expects me to meet her again this evening. She is to unlatch a window at the back of the house so I can climb in. There is a place where you may leave the carriage which is not far away. It’s unlikely anyone will see it there at this time of night. They go to bed very early in these parts. Follow me. I will show you the way.”

  “You have done well, Jacques.”

  “Truly, it has been my pleasure, Monsieur.” Jacques teeth shone white in the moonlight as he grinned. “Annie is a nice girl and I am sorry I will not be able to meet her again.”

  Chapter Seven

  As Jacques had told them, a small spinney lay behind the house. His own horse was already there, tied to a tree. It whickered when they approached. Jacques ran to calm it before its noise could give them away. Philip drew the dog-cart in and Jacques tethered the horses and gave them water from a bucket he had left ready. He covered their backs with a couple of blankets.

  “They should be all right, the night isn’t cold and we will not, I hope, be very long,” Philip said to Alice. “Can you remain here and see that they do not make a sound?”

  “I’ll walk them if they become restless.”

  “No, don’t unhitch them. We may have to leave in a hurry,” Philip warned her. “You should be safe enough but if you hear any commotion, don’t stay for us. Drive to the main road and wait at the next milestone towards London. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come into the house with you?”

  “Better not. The more people there are, the more likely some mischance will occur.” She saw his teeth white in the moonlight as he grinned. “And you were never a runner!”

  “Good luck.” Alice smiled although she clenched her fists. She knew he spoke sensibly but she was shaking with apprehension. The two men blended into the shadows. Alice had nothing to do but to strain her ears for some sound that would tell her that their entry to the distant house had been discovered. Although it was June, the night wind was chilly. The spinney seemed to be full of rustles and other noises. The minutes dragged. She lost all sense of time as the minutes seemed never ending. Once an owl swooped low over the carriage, startling the horses. One of them neighed.

  This will never do, thought Alice. She clambered down from the seat and went to the horses’ heads. She petted and soothed the creatures until they settled again and began to crop the grass. She was just about to climb back into the dog-cart when something rustled, a sound that was too loud for woodland animals. She returned to the horses and gripped their bridles, staring through the trees, trying to see who was moving. Her hear thudded. She felt her fingers shake but she stood still and fought against her feelings. Another rustle, much nearer this time. She flinched, knowing she could not leave and hide. If it were an enemy, she would not have a chance to get away. Then a voice whispered,

  “Alice?”

  “Here. Have you got her?”

  “Yes. Help me.”

  As he came into the clearing, Alice realised that her brother was all but carrying a woman, wrapped up in a cloak.

  “Where’s Jacques?” she asked, putting her arm around the half-fainting figure.

  “Following me. He’s closing the window and setting a false trail for the servants to discover in the morning. Then he’ll join us on the road. Get onto the seat. I will hand Celia up to you.”

  Alice reached down, grasped Celia’s hand and pulled hard while Philip boosted her from behind. The woman was limp and Alice wondered if she realised what she was doing. Alice had to hold her tightly to prevent her falling out of the cart. Celia seemed to be in a daze and, as yet, she had spoken no word. Alice eased her down until she was half lying across the carriage seat and kept her arms around her. Celia was trembling and her skin felt like ice. Philip stripped the blankets from the horses’ backs and stuffed them under the seat. The
n he turned the dog-cart, climbed up and took the reins. Celia was now held between them so tightly that Alice was able to relax her grip a little. Philip turned the carriage and walked the horses back on to the lane. He said nothing more until they reached the highway. Then Alice ventured to ask,

  “Brother, does Celia realise what she is doing? What the consequences might be? Did you explain it properly to her?”

  “She knows. She begged me to take her away from there and hide her from Staunton. She realised that it was her only chance of escape.”

  “Celia, do you truly understand?” Alice shook the limp figure in her arms but evoked no response.

  “Leave her alone,” Philip said quickly. “She’s in a terrible state. She told me that she only wished for death once she recognised me and knew I was her friend. It took me some time to convince her that there was an alternative.”

  “She must be desperate if she talks that way.”

  As they turned a corner, the moonlight fell upon the woman’s face. Her eyes were closed but deeply shadowed. Her hair looked like black silk. Her chin was pointed and her features delicate. Alice remembered the pretty girl she had once been, but she was not pretty now. Her face and hands seemed terribly thin. Little flesh covered her bones.

  “Has she been starving herself?”

  “She said she thought it was the easiest way to escape from Staunton, but he realised what she was doing and set someone to guard her. If Celia will not eat, this woman forces her.” His tone was grim. “She is not very successful as you can see but, for all that, she has kept Celia alive.”

  “You can’t expect her to travel with you to France in this condition,” Alice told him. “You would never be able to take her on board the packet. She looks very ill, even in this light. The captain is sure to stop you, in case her sickness is infectious.” Alice started to search in her reticule for her smelling salts. Philip glanced at her and asked what she was about. When she told him, he said,

  “Don’t do that. Better she remains in a swoon until we reach our destination. I’ve already given up the notion of going to France. You’re right; I must hide her somewhere until she recovers sufficiently to undertake the journey and knows the risks.”

  “But where could you take her that is safe?”

  “Some inn, I expect. I’ll say she had an accident on the road…”

  “Don’t do that!” Alice protested. “No one would believe such a story. She looks as if she has an illness, not had a mishap. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “Well, what else can I do? I can’t bring her back to my lodgings. The landlady would have a fit. She knows I’m not married.”

  “I have an idea,” Alice said.

  “What is it then?”

  “Take her to Fenny.”

  “Fenny! Of course, the very person. But isn’t she at Kirkmore?” The certainty in his voice made her smile in spite of their situation. Philip had always been a prime favourite with their old governess, Miss Fennimore.

  “No. She retired last year when Robert went to school. She bought a small house in London and lives with her sister.”

  “I told you I needed your help!”

  “But Philip, I have just thought. She knows what happened to you four years ago. She was still with us then if you remember.”

  “Fenny would never betray me.” Philip laughed. “She would cut off her right arm first. She never sneaked on any of us, even when our mischief called down blame on her own head. She’d always help any one of us, even Matilda, if she could. If I can’t trust Fenny, there’s no one in the world I can trust, not even you.”

  “No, she wouldn’t tell anyone, of course. Dear Fenny. I’m sure she would be able to shelter you for a few days at least. She lives near Portman Square. Do you know where that is?”

  “No. It’s new isn’t it?”

  “She doesn’t live in a new house. I’ll tell you how to get there from Aunt’s. I looked it up in the Gazetteer because I intended to visit her. Do you want me to come with you and show you the way?”

  “No. There’s not enough time to go there and bring you back to Aunt’s before the servants are stirring. No need for you to be mixed up in all this. Jacques and I will have to manage alone.” Philip drew in on the reins. “There he is.”

  A figure stood in the middle of the moonlit road, waving to them.

  “How did he get here so fast? I thought he’d be behind us.”

  “A path leads from the spinney. It’s only wide enough for a rider, that’s why we had to use the road.”

  Philip checked the horses and Jacques walked up to the carriage, leading his horse.

  “All well?” Philip asked him, switching to French.

  “I left the door open, latched the window and pulled the lady’s bedclothes onto the floor. It looks as if she has got up from her bed and run right out of the house. A few broken branches and crushed grass should set them off in the wrong direction when they start to search for her.”

  “Good, and Annie?”

  “None the wiser. A few quick kisses and a promise to meet her tomorrow as soon as she can get away.”

  Nothing more was said. Philip drove hard and Jacques followed. Alice clung to Celia, afraid that a bump in the road would precipitate her off the seat and onto the floor. She was very glad when he slackened pace as they entered London. Not long afterwards, he turned the carriage into the lane behind their aunt’s house.

  “Jacques will take your seat and hold Celia now. Go carefully, I will send a message to you as soon as I know what is happening.”

  As she unearthed the key from its hiding place, Alice saw that the sky was just becoming light. Hurriedly she fitted the key into the door and turned the lock. She was glad to find the kitchen just as she had left it. She locked and bolted the door. It could not be long now before the first servants awoke. She pulled off her pelisse and bonnet, picked up the glass of water she had set ready and started to climb the stairs. She had just reached the entrance to the family’s quarters when she realised that someone was descending from the attics. She whisked herself through the baize door, her heart pounding and retraced her steps to her own room. Once inside, she stood listening, but no one approached. Deeply thankful, she hung up her clothes and shoved her bonnet into the wardrobe. She pulled back the bed covers as the door handle started to turn. She dived into bed, trying to control her breathing, as the housemaid came in to kindle her fire. Fortunately, the girl seemed to have no inkling that Alice was awake. Once the fire was safely alight, she gathered up her tools and went out.

  Alice lay still with a sigh of relief, remembering all the alarms she had experienced in the night and deeply thankful to have returned to her room undetected. Goodness knows what her aunt would have said if she had been caught sneaking into the house at dawn. She would have been fortunate merely to be sent home in disgrace.

  Next morning, Alice came down in good time to breakfast. Although she knew she looked heavy-eyed, relief from some of her fears gave her the strength to act as if nothing had happened. Philip had not been caught. Staunton’s household had not been alerted. Philip and Celia would be safe with Fenny until Celia recovered. For a moment she wished she was with them. Lady Mary was eating French toast and chatting to Lizzie and Edward but Kitty was noticeably absent, for which Alice was also thankful. One problem at a time, she said to herself.

  Lady Mary paid for early delivery of the post and so a letter lay beside Alice’s place. It was from her mother. Alice broke the wafer and scanned the thin sheets. The Countess was not a notable correspondent and the news she had to impart was trivial, but, as she was reading, a thought came to Alice. When she looked up, she was frowning and Lady Mary said,

  “I hope that all is well at home, my dear?”

  “Yes, indeed, Aunt, but Mama has written that my old governess, Miss Fennimore, is unwell and she would like me to visit her if it is possible.” Lady Kirkmore was not the most generous of employers or especially thoughtful of the welfare o
f her retired servants. Alice was counting on the fact that none of her listeners knew her mother well enough to detect her in her lie. Miss Fennimore would unhesitatingly have done so.

  “Then you must go and oblige your Mama, of course,” Lady Mary said. “Where does Miss Fennimore live?”

  “In Granville Place. I believe it is near Portman Square.”

  “Out of the way,” Edward murmured, looking at her. Alice tried hard not to blush. He seems to see things he has no right to see, she thought resentfully, but perhaps I am just imagining him doing so.

  “Miss Fennimore has only a respectable competence to live on, cousin, plus the pension Papa pays her. I am sure her home will prove to be most gentile wherever it is. If you have no need of me, Aunt, I would like to go there right away. Mama seems very anxious about her.”

  “We are promised to Lady Sinclair’s ridotto tonight but we have no other engagements today.”

  “Then may I go?”

  “I have no objections, my dear, as long as you take Sarah with you. I am not going out so I do not need the carriage. Do you Edward?”

  “No. Would you like me to take you there, Cousin?” he asked politely.

  “Thank you but there is no need. If Miss Fennimore is unwell, I am sure it would fluster her to find a strange gentleman on her doorstep,” Alice replied with a smile. “Another time, perhaps?”