by Mary Nichols
Behind the curtain everyone was talking at once, laughing and joking and dissecting their performances, looking forward to the celebration party which the Duke was providing. It was all too much for Lavinia, who slipped away to the bookroom where she sank into her father’s armchair to collect herself and her thoughts. The play was over, but the bigger test was still to come. She had yet to convince Lord Wincote that she had meant her refusal and would not change her mind. And worse still, she had to listen to James enthusing about Lady Rattenshaw and offer her congratulations.
‘Lady Lavinia, there you are. I have been looking for you. Why are you hiding?’
She looked up to see Edmund standing over her. He had already changed from his costume into evening clothes, a pair of black superfine trousers strapped under his shoes, a perfectly tailored coat and a purple brocade waistcoat. ‘I am not hiding, my lord. I needed a few moments’ quiet contemplation. It has all been so exhausting.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ he said, drawing up a chair opposite her and sitting down, so close to her his knees were almost touching hers. He leaned forward and took both her hands. ‘We shall sit here quietly for a moment or two and you will soon be yourself again, ready to take on the world.’
She looked down at their linked hands, too lethargic to pull away, wishing with every fibre of her being that James would come and rescue her. James, who looked on her as a sister, not a wife. ‘My lord—’
‘Edmund,’ he corrected her. He released one of her hands to reach out and touch her cheek. She shuddered. ‘You are not afraid of me, surely?’
‘No.’
‘Then look at me.’
She raised her head and found herself looking into his dark eyes and could not tear her gaze away. She could feel his eyes boring into hers and his soft voice, soothing her. ‘You are so tired after all you have done, so very, very tired, so we will rest here together, in quiet harmony…’ His voice became a soft hum, like the sound of bees on a summer’s day. Her eyes flickered and then closed…
James could not find her. He had gone to the men’s dressing room immediately the play ended to change before returning to the ballroom, expecting to see her with the Duke and Duchess and the rest of the cast who were milling about, drinking champagne and congratulating themselves on the success of the evening, but there was no sign of her. No Wincote either. Surely the man had not cornered her already? She had promised to wait, but in the face of Wincote’s persuasiveness, would she? Had they gone into another room? Left the house?
He was on his way to search for her when he saw Major Greenaway pushing his way through the throng towards him, accompanied by a seedy individual whom James had never seen before.
‘James,’ Donald said, as the two men met. ‘A word, if you please.’
James looked about him. There was still no sign of Lavinia or Wincote. ‘Not now, Donald. I have to find Lavinia.’
‘This won’t take long.’ He took James’s arm and drew him into a corner where they would not be overheard. ‘This is Mr Theobald Tribble. He is a jeweller and receiver…’
‘Sir, I protest!’ Tribble said. ‘I never knowingly—’
‘Quite.’ Donald cut him short and continued to address James. ‘I brought him here tonight to watch the play—’
‘And never understood a word,’ the man said. ‘I could have done what you asked without sitting through three hours of nonsensical verse.’
James looked from one to the other and wished they would get on with it.
He needed to find Lavinia, and quickly.
‘I asked him to come tonight to identify the man who sold him Lady Willoughby’s diamond clips,’ Donald went on.
‘And did he?’
‘He did.’
‘And was it—?’
‘It was. I have a Runner standing by. He will be taken up as soon as you give the word.’
‘I don’t know where he is. Nor where Lady Lavinia is. I was just going to look for them.’
‘Then I will help you. If he gets wind we are on his tail…’
He did not need to finish the sentence, James was already striding away, intent on turning the entire house upside down if he had to.
‘Come, my dear,’ Edmund said, very quietly but firmly, as if talking to a child. ‘Everyone is waiting for us to announce our engagement. His Grace has champagne especially for the toast.’
‘I am tired,’ she said. ‘I want to sleep.’
He stood up and bent over her to take her by the arm. ‘So you shall, just as soon as the formalities are over, then you may sleep as long as you wish. Now, stand up like a good girl and take my arm.’
She was too tired to resist and stood obediently, though he had to support her.
‘Now, my dear,’ he went on, his voice low. ‘You are to be your usual bright self and smile a great deal. You are very happy. The play has been a great success and you are to marry the man you love. Is that not so?’
‘Yes.’ She was smiling and apparently alert as he lead her from the room and across the wide hall in the direction of the ballroom.
‘Vinny!’ They were suddenly confronted by James. ‘I have been looking everywhere for you.’
‘You may congratulate me on my good fortune,’ Edmund said, triumphantly, drawing Lavinia closer to his side. ‘We are just returning to the ballroom to make the announcement of our engagement.’
‘Oh, no, you are not! Vinny, tell me this isn’t true. Tell me you have not accepted this…this charlatan’s offer.’
‘Steady, my lord,’ Wincote warned him. ‘That statement is actionable.’
‘Not if I can prove it.’ He turned to Lavinia. ‘Vinny, do not do this thing. If you love me, do not do it.’
She looked up at him and smiled. ‘I am going to marry the man I love,’ she said.
He could not believe it. He reached forward to touch her. She almost shrank from him and the horror of it hit him like a physical blow.
‘Corringham, I will thank you to step aside and let us pass,’ Wincote said calmly. ‘We are expected at the party. You may join us if you wish, but only as long as you refrain from bothering her ladyship, soon to be my wife.’
In a fury, James raised his fist, but before he could land the blow his arm was caught by Major Greenaway, who had come up behind him. ‘No, Corringham, that is not the answer. Think of the scandal if you should come to fisticuffs under his Grace’s roof.’ He turned to Edmund. ‘Lord Wincote, there is someone here I should like you to meet.’ He waved Mr Tribble forward.
Edmund took one look at the man, grabbed Lavinia by the hand and dashed across the hall to the front door, pulling her after him. ‘Come, my lady, I have changed my mind, we will not join the party after all.’
James was after them in the time it took to collect his scattered wits, but he was not quick enough. The street, when they reached it, was thronged with people. Many of them had been part of the audience and were streaming out from Stanmore House and climbing into waiting carriages and cabs. They mingled with others already on the streets: gentlemen and clerks, ladies of every degree, children letting off firecrackers, workers carrying banners, saying ‘God save Queen Caroline’. But there was no sign of Edmund Wincote or Lavinia.
‘Damn the Queen!’ James said, trying to see over the heads of the multitude.
‘What did you say?’ demanded a little man, from the jostling crowd. ‘Did I hear you damn Her Majesty?’ He turned to his fellows. ‘Here’s a King’s man, mates. He would have the Queen sent to perdition. I reckon he needs a seeing-to.’
They crowded round him belligerently. He tried pushing them away. ‘For God’s sake, let me through. There is a young lady in grave danger—’
‘She would be if you had anything to do with it,’ the little man said, laughing. ‘But we aim to protect her. Come, lads, off with his coat and breeks and into the Thames with him.’
James fought them off, wondering where Donald had got to. He should have been at his side. His coat was ri
pped in the struggle and he lost his hat, and though anger lent him strength, it was not enough, he knew he was being overpowered. Suddenly he felt hands under his armpits and was hauled off his feet and bundled into a cab which had appeared from nowhere.
‘For God’s sake, stop struggling and get in,’ Donald said.
James pulled himself up from the floor as Donald jumped in beside him and slammed the door shut on the enraged crowd. The horses set off, but in the mêlée could make little headway. The persistent little man ran alongside for a hundred yards until at last the road cleared a little and they picked up speed and left him behind.
‘My thanks for the rescue,’ James said, inspecting his torn coat. ‘But where has that villain gone with Lavinia?’
‘She seemed willing enough.’
‘She did not know what she was doing. She was tired, exhausted, did you not notice her eyes—’ He stopped and clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘My God! Why did I not think of that before? He has mesmerised her. He has taken over her mind. She will do exactly as he tells her.’
‘Can he do that?’
‘He did it before. I witnessed it.’
‘Do you think he has a parson standing by?’
‘No, he did not expect to see you or that jeweller fellow, what was his name?’
‘Tribble.’
‘He recognised him and knew the game was up. He has changed tactics and has Vinny as a kind of hostage. It is a ransom, not a wedding, he is thinking of. They are either on foot or, like us, have found a cab.’
‘I thought I saw the Loscoe carriage outside Stanmore House when I arrived.’
‘Yes, the Duke sent it for my sister and her children. It would have been waiting to take them home again. It was unfortunate that Sir Richard had a prior engagement and needed their coach.’
‘Did you notice it when we left?’
‘No, I can’t say I did. Wincote must have purloined it. It is a good strong coach with four of the best horses in London. We cannot hope to catch up with them in this ancient rattler.’
‘No, but it will be easy to spot.’
‘If we knew where they were heading. He would hardly take her home to Mount Street.’
‘No, but he could take her to Cumberland.’
‘Cumberland! My God! We must make haste.’ He rapped on the roof. ‘Corringham House, Duke Street,’ he ordered. ‘As fast as you can. Five guineas if you can do it in less than ten minutes.’ Then, to Donald, ‘We’ll take my coach and horses.’
They were flung back in their seats as the cabdriver whipped up the horses, shouting to the crowds to give way. ‘Make way!’ he yelled. ‘Make way for Lord Brougham!’
In spite of his anxiety, James laughed. ‘Very imaginative, our driver, but it seems to have done the trick.’ The crowds were cheering them and then a new hazard presented itself because the mob decided horses were not good enough and they were going to unharness them and pull the coach themselves. It would take an age and when they discovered Lord Brougham was not inside, there would be a lynching.
‘No, his lordship is in a devil of a hurry to see the Queen,’ their driver shouted. ‘Things to discuss before the hearing next week and her Majesty wants to go to bed.’ This set up such a howl of laughter, they were allowed to proceed unhindered.
‘If he has harmed a hair of her head,’ James said, as they fairly flew along. ‘I shall personally run him through and take pleasure in doing it. And the worst of it is that she will not have her wits about her to fight him off.’ He thumped his knee with his clenched fist, hardly feeling the pain. ‘Vinny, Vinny, where are you?’
She was dreaming. She was in a coach, going heaven knew where, and there was this dark shadow beside her and an ache behind her eyes which was stopping her from thinking clearly. Her limbs were heavy, and her face hurt from smiling in the dark. Why was she smiling? Was she happy?
‘Lavinia, my dear, you will forgive me, I know. You will understand why, when you wake.’ The soft voice droned on. It had been talking to her non-stop for what seemed hours, assuring her all was well and that she would soon be in bed. But she was in bed already; she would wake up in a minute to find Daisy standing over her with her morning chocolate. She tried to force her eyes open and then discovered to her dismay that they were open already.
Something stirred in her brain, something she must remember, something important. She tried to grasp it, but it eluded her. She groaned and put her hand to her aching head. ‘My head hurts.’
‘It will be better by and by,’ the soft, unhurried voice went on. ‘You have caused me no end of trouble, don’t you know that? And so has Corringham. Too leery by far, that one, sharp enough to understand a man’s need for blunt, but then he would, considering he’s a gambler too. If Lady G.’s necklace had not been fake, I might have got away with it, had enough money to pay off my debts and appear the perfect match for you. She never felt it leave her neck, but the Willoughby woman’s clips, that was more difficult. She set up such a din, I had to think fast and then I daren’t sell them with Major Greenaway breathing down my neck. Had to in the end, what with Lady Rattenshaw not being the genuine article…’
There was something about that statement which worried her, but her head was too woolly to think about it. She looked out of the window. The coach was going at walking pace through dense crowds, all shouting and cheering. No wonder her head ached. ‘What are they shouting about?’ she asked.
‘They think you are the Queen and are cheering you.’
‘That’s silly. The Queen is…’ She shook her head, trying to clear it.
The carriage was jolted by the crowd pressing against it and suddenly she was herself again. She recognised the interior of the family coach, she recognised Lord Wincote. She looked down at herself and realised she was still wearing her ancient Greek costume.
‘Sleep on,’ he murmured. The voice was the same dull monotone she had been hearing all evening. No, not quite all evening. Since the play ended. She remembered the cheers and the clapping, just like the cheers and clapping that had roused her from her torpor just now. Had she been asleep? Had she walked out to the carriage in her sleep, still wearing her costume? Or was it just one more demonstration of his lordship’s strange power over people’s minds?
She sat quite still, trying to drag back the events of the evening to her conscious mind. James had been there. James had tried to stop her. James had kissed her, told her to wait for him, that he wanted to talk to her. Where was he now? Why had he allowed Lord Wincote to take her away like this? Suddenly the coach jolted to a stop, surrounded by men and women all making their way towards St James’s Square where they meant to stand outside the Queen’s residence and cheer her.
‘Bang-up vehicle and no mistake,’ one of them said, pulling open the door and filling the inside of the coach with alcoholic fumes. ‘Prime horseflesh too. And more of the like inside.’ He grinned toothlessly at Lavinia. ‘What ho, my little leddy! Who are you?’
‘Get out!’ Edmund yelled, trying to push the man away, so that he could shut the door again.
‘No call to get on your high horse,’ the man said. ‘We only want to know if the lady is the Queen.’
‘Of course she is not.’
‘One of her ladies-in-waiting, perhaps?’
‘No, I am not,’ she said, so forcefully that Edmund realised she had come out of her mesmerised state and was fully aware of what was happening to her.
‘Do not be so quick to deny it, my dear,’ he said calmly. ‘They are very partisan and I could not protect you if they decided to turn nasty. Better to say you are part of the Queen’s household and we can be on our way.’
‘No. I would rather put myself in their hands than yours.’ The mob was clambering all over the coach now, even on its roof and Tom Bagshott, who had not been at all sure he should have obeyed Lord Wincote’s order to drive them and would not have done so if Lady Lavinia herself had not asked him, clung tenaciously to the reins. The vehicle began to
rock alarmingly.
‘They will have us over,’ Wincote said. ‘For God’s sake, Lavinia, tell them you are on an errand for the Queen and they will let us go.’
‘I do not know why you should be so afraid, my lord,’ she said, doing her best to stay calm. ‘You have been on her Majesty’s side from the beginning. You tell them that.’
He tried, but someone had recognised the Loscoe coat of arms and they laughed in his face. ‘That’s a caulker if I ever heard one.’ The man who was standing on the step laughed, his rugged face so close to Lavinia’s she could smell the cheap Geneva on his breath as he looked her up and down, taking in her flimsy costume. ‘I knew them gentry got up to some weird rigs, but I never thought to see it with me own eyes.’
‘Jed, what’s to-do?’ someone shouted at him. ‘Are we going to let them go or are we going to tip them in the river?’
‘It is no good,’ James said. ‘We will never get through. Perhaps we should have rounded up some help before setting out.’
‘We cannot go back so we might as well try and go forwards,’ Donald said. Both men were sitting on the box of the Corringham carriage. James was driving, growing more and more impatient, while the major leaned down and endeavoured to force a way through, using his not inconsiderable voice.
‘There is a great knot of people surrounding a carriage ahead of us,’ James said. ‘If they are not careful they will have it over.’
‘Never mind that now. Can you get past it?’
‘I don’t know. The horses might take fright, they are nervous enough as it is.’
‘It will make the crowd scatter, though.’
‘True, but someone might be hurt.’
‘Give the tits the order. I’ll yell runaway horses at them. That should shift ’em.’
‘And before you know where we are, they really will bolt and then what?’
‘Oh, come, James, you are one of the best whipsters in the business, you can bring them up again.’
James gave the horses a touch of the whip. They needed no more. Already half-spooked, they set off at a gallop, almost dragging James’s arms out of their sockets. The sound of the hooves and Donald’s bellow of warning scattered the crowds. In a minute they had passed and were flying along the now empty road ahead of them.
