The Regency Romances of Mira Stables: Part One

by Mira Stables

  What the devil was the wench about, thought Charles furiously. This was not the course they had agreed upon. But she had cut the ground from under his feet. “Why, my love—if you are quite sure that this is what you wish—it shall be so. But I must inform you,” he went on, trying to sound suitably arch and playful, “that when we are wed, I shall expect obedience to my wishes. This, you must know, is the duty of a wife.”

  What a thrice damned fool I must sound, he thought idly. And then, at once, good thing if he thinks so. But what sort of a game was the girl playing? He’d be willing to stake his inheritance that she was terrified of her uncle. He’d seen that frisson of revulsion run over her too expressive countenance. So why submit to his wishes without cause?

  “When we are married I shall naturally obey you in all things,” said Nell in a submissive tone wholly belied by the dimple at the corner of her mouth. “Meanwhile Sir Nicholas will not wish to keep his horses waiting for ever.” She moved towards the inn door, Sir Nicholas following close behind her.

  Charles went off to the stable yard, where, as he had hoped, he found Giles peacefully engaged in setting a few stitches into a well worn saddle. A brief colloquy ensuing, the groom nodded, put aside his task and turned to the stall where the big Andalusian was housed. Charles strolled back to the inn and after a few words with Jasie in the taproom made his way to his bedroom where, in a matter of five minutes he had gathered together his few belongings and packed them in his valise.

  In the pretty room that Emma had set aside for her use Nell sat down in the windowseat to write a note to Charles while Bella started to pack her portmanteau. After hesitating for a full minute over the delicate question of how best to address him, she remembered that she must make haste lest Sir Nicholas grow suspicious and wrote hastily without preamble of any kind: “I saw well what you had in mind, but I could not let you fall into argument which might lead to a duel. You are not to be fighting my battles. But our compact may still hold, for I beg you not to desert me but to remain in the neighbourhood. I will not remove from the Fleece without informing you. Pray do not be anxious for me. I shall have my pistol.” Having signed this effusion and sealed it with a wafer, she instructed Bella to give it to Giles, asking him to hand it to his master privately. “Don’t let Sir Nicholas see it,” she urged, “and come back to me when you have delivered it safely.”

  The girl went off, goggle-eyed with excitement at taking part in what she felt sure was a secret assignation. Nell turned to the folding of delicate muslins, too fragile to be entrusted to Bella’s willing but clumsy hands, her face a little wistful as she stooped to the task. He had accepted her decision so easily, never guessing what it had cost her in sheer cold courage. Perhaps he had thought her reassured by her uncle’s respectable appearance. She shivered, and remembered another task which could not be left to Bella. From a locked drawer in the bureau she took the case that held her pistol. She would have to find time to load it, a task which needed care. Not here and now with Bella’s return imminent. Swiftly she hid the case at the bottom of the portmanteau and closed the lid. Bella was taking an age, and Sir Nicholas would be growing impatient. She would go and bid farewell to Emma and the baby, then she could truthfully say that this had delayed her. It was so very much easier to tell the truth, as well as more comfortable. Play acting was fun though, she decided with a reminiscent smile as she went down the passage.

  The good-byes were not so painful as she had expected. Emma was brisk and cheerful, vowing that her sojourn at the Fleece would be brief, and recommending her to put her trust in Captain Trevannion, “a good sort of a man, and one that will bring you safe off from this tangle by one way or another.”

  Sounds suggestive of a cart horse hastening home proclaimed the return of Bella, and brought Emma’s admonitions to an abrupt close. “That wench!” she sighed despairingly. “The times I’ve told her! Now you be off, Miss Nell, and try not to fret too much for the outcome. You’re in good hands with the Captain, and Jasie and me’ll keep an eye on things too, so’s Sir Nicholas’ll not dare try any tricks with all of us watching.”

  Nell kissed her lightly and went quickly out of the room, fearful of betraying that she was not feeling near so brave as she could wish. Bella, breathless with haste, was standing just inside her bedroom. “I’m ever so sorry, Miss, I’m sure,” she panted. “I couldn’t find Mr. Giles anywhere, but he do be come back now. Been on an errand for Sir Charles. I give him the letter like you said, and he says as he’ll give it to his master.”

  Nell thanked her prettily for her services, and then indicated a gay shawl lying on the bed, saying that she had no further use for it but thought the colour might be becoming to her attendant. Bella clasped the shawl lovingly to her breast and expressed sincere if incoherent gratitude. There was no further excuse for lingering. Nell put on her hat, and accompanied by the ecstatic Bella carrying the portmanteau, made her way to the parlour.

  Sir Nicholas was pacing the floor, watch in hand—an unnecessary gesture of petulance, since the wall clock kept good time. He strove however to conceal his irritation, smiling at her with a gleam of well preserved teeth which reminded her forcibly of the nursery tale of Red Riding Hood, and making jocular comment on the time it took young ladies to prepare for a journey.

  Much against her natural inclination Nell meekly begged pardon for the long delay, explained that she had been taking leave of Emma and baby Giles—“my God-son”—and walked out to the waiting chaise.

  Here however there was another unexpected delay. Leaning against the mounting block, all the leisure in the world in his indolent pose but coming gracefully to his full height as his ‘betrothed’ reached his side, was Captain Trevannion, attired now in riding clothes.

  “Ah! Here you are at last, my dear,” he greeted her cheerfully, unconsciously echoing Sir Nicholas’s strictures. “You went off in such haste that I had no opportunity to ask you about the mare. Shall Giles bring her over to the Fleece, or do you prefer to keep her here? It is so short a distance that it makes small odds.”

  Since she had no mare, nor indeed any kind of mount stabled at the Lamb, Nell found herself in a puzzle. Which did he want her to say? Then it seemed obvious that he was showing her an easy means of keeping in touch. With a mount stabled at the Lamb, messages could pass between them easily and naturally.

  “Here, I think,” she decided eventually. “She’s such a nervous creature and might fret in strange stables.”

  The quirk of Charles’s lips assured her that she had chosen aright and that her quick perception had amused and pleased him. Emboldened, she went on, “Need we forego the ride we had planned for tomorrow? Sir Nicholas can have no objection to that,” clearly she intimated that he had better not, “since your groom will be with us. I will have Bella pack my habit, for I had forgot that I should need it. Will you call for me at—say—ten o’clock?”

  “Giles shall certainly bring the mare over at that hour,” said Charles pleasantly. “For myself, of course, I am coming with you now. I sent Giles off at once to bespeak me a room at the Fleece, and fortunately the landlord was able to accommodate me. I did not quite like to tear Giles away from his family so soon,” he went on apologetically. “He can easily bring the horses over whenever we need them.”

  He bowed politely to Sir Nicholas. “I shall be honoured to escort your chaise, sir,” he smiled. Then, turning to hand Nell into the carriage he explained kindly, “There can be no food for scandal, you know, in my putting up at the Fleece, since Sir Nicholas himself will be there”—deliberately and mischievously he used the Spanish term—“to play duenna.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was fortunate that Charles was riding behind the chaise, thought Nell, or it would have been difficult to contain the bubbling merriment within her. Her spirits had gone bounding up when he had so calmly announced his intention of sharing her exile at the Fleece. For the moment Sir Nicholas no longer seemed a sinister and potent threat. Charles had made
him look slightly ridiculous, and so reduced his villainous stature. The ordeal she had braced herself to face had suddenly become a gay adventure, for Charles was sharing it with her. She wished she were riding with him instead of being cooped up in this stuffy vehicle, but at least she could look forward to a good gallop tomorrow.

  Sir Nicholas made no attempt to engage her in conversation during the brief drive that carried them to Wintringham. He surveyed the passing rural scene without visible emotion, and when they reached their destination handed her over to Miss Smithson without further ceremony. Since Charles had gone off to see to the stabling of his horse there was nothing to do but accept Miss Smithson’s offer to show her the three available rooms so that she might choose the one she preferred. There was in fact little to choose between them. All were spotlessly clean if simply furnished. She chose eventually a small room at the back of the inn, looking out over the stable yard into a small paddock with an orchard beyond.

  Miss Smithson showed mild surprise at her choice, but admitted that it would be quieter than the two larger rooms that fronted the highway and were above the public rooms. Nell did not care to confess, even to herself, that she had chosen as she did because her window might afford an occasional stolen glimpse of Charles, for it was natural to suppose that with Giles left behind at Springbourne he would oversee the welfare of his horse in person. Instead she endeavoured to engage Miss Smithson in conversation. It was not a very rewarding occupation. Miss Smithson, though polite almost to servility, was monosyllabic and depressing. In appearance she was scrupulously neat but colourless, every scrap of hair tucked away under her cap, her complexion pale, her eyes a dull grey. Only once did she show any sign of animation, and this was when Nell chanced to refer to Emma. At this there came a gleam of interest in the lacklustre eyes, and she enquired earnestly after Mistress Woodstead’s health. Eagerly Nell began to explain that Emma was her own kind nurse and dear friend. It seemed as though they might reach a better understanding when a thump on the door announced the arrival of Nell’s portmanteau. The lad who dumped it unceremoniously inside the room informed Miss Smithson that the master was wanting her and seeking her everywhere. She seemed to shrink a little, muttered her excuses to Nell, and hurried out of the room.

  Nell went about her unpacking soberly with a smile only for the shaking out of her habit, slightly creased from its hurried last minute inclusion by unpractised hands. It was actually rather a shabby garment, old and a little faded, and she hoped that she would be able to get into it, since it had been made for her before she had done growing.

  Then there was the problem of finding a safe hiding place for the pistol case. A brief examination convinced her that there was no such place in the room, and she was eventually forced to conceal the case at the bottom of her workbag, where it lay snug beneath the innocent white cambric folds of baby Giles’s robe. Tonight, when everyone was in bed and there was no danger of interruption, she would essay the ticklish task of loading. A glance at the door had already shown that the key was in the lock, and she now walked across and tried it. It turned easily and smoothly. Whatever Miss Smithson’s shortcomings as a conversationalist she appeared to be an efficient housekeeper.

  The rest of the evening passed quietly enough. After dinner—a simple meal offering little choice of dishes but well cooked and piping hot—Sir Nicholas had withdrawn to a side table and immersed himself in a mass of papers, but presently he emerged from his abstraction to address himself to his niece. “I had hoped to have carried you to Town within the sennight, my dear, for I am sure your aunt and cousin are all eagerness to welcome you, but I fear this tiresome business is like to detain me longer than I had thought. However I daresay you will not repine, since you have Captain Trevannion to bear you company,” and he bestowed a gracious smile upon Charles.

  Nell was staring at him in frank astonishment. Until that moment she had thought him to be a bachelor. “My cousin, sir?” she enquired. “I did not know I had a cousin.”

  “Did you not? My Robin is seven years old. Too young I fear to be a companion to you. But my wife will be very glad of your coming. She is of a delicate constitution and does not go much into society, so that the inclusion of a young female in our family circle will be great comfort to her. I promise you that they are both quite agog at the prospect of your coming.”

  There seemed to be no adequate answer to this, since Nell was not disposed to perjure herself with protestations of equal enthusiasm. She did however acknowledge that as she had Captain Trevannion to ride with her she was not likely to find a prolonged sojourn at the Fleece in the least tedious.

  “What a veritable Diana you are, my dear,” sighed Sir Nicholas. “Now have I that right, I wonder? My schooldays are, alas, so far behind me, but I seem to recall that Diana was the Goddess of the chase. Certainly she is associated in my mind with horses. One would describe an accomplished horseman as a Centaur, but one can scarcely apply this term to a young lady I feel.”

  Since neither of his companions seemed disposed to enlarge on this theme, he sighed plaintively, as one whose creditable efforts to furnish suitable small talk were not meeting with the success that they deserved, and lapsed into a gentle melancholy from which he was only shaken when Charles enquired, “How long do you expect to be detained here, sir? For as soon as Mistress Woodstead is able to undertake the journey I intend, as I informed you, to escort Miss Easton to my sister’s house where she is to stay until such time as we can be married.”

  Sir Nicholas frowned. “I cannot approve such a scheme,” he said austerely. “So hasty a plunge into matrimony gives an extremely off appearance. My niece should first be presented to society by her aunt, and there should be no thought of a wedding until she has been granted the opportunity to look about her a little. As for my own plans,” he went on, his manner mellowing a little, “I cannot be sure how long I may be kept dangling here. I am concerned with settling up the estate of my wife’s aunt who died recently. She has been something of a recluse, and her affairs are in such chaos that it seems like to take longer than I had first imagined.”

  “My own affairs will not permit of undue delay,” Charles said firmly. “My furlough is not unlimited, and I, too, have much to see to in connection with my grandfather’s estate. I wait only to see Miss Easton safely lodged with my sister.”

  “On the matter of an early marriage we are unlikely to reach agreement,” said Sir Nicholas mildly. “I am persuaded, dear child, that a little rational thought will convince you of the impropriety of such conduct. To be married in such haste must cause even the most charitably minded to look askance, while what will be said by persons of less benevolent disposition is quite unthinkable.”

  Nell found it oddly difficult to refute his arguments. She was almost grateful when he suggested that it might be better if she withdrew her ‘charming presence’ for a little while, leaving the gentlemen to discuss the matter more freely.

  Sir Nicholas, having helped himself with polished grace to a pinch of snuff, appeared to be considerably refreshed, for he shrugged off his habitual languor and said quite crisply, “Now sir. Let us have this out without further roundaboutation. I have sent an express to my poor brother’s lawyers enquiring whether I am named as guardian in his Will. Until I hear from them I am assuming the duties of the child’s natural protector, as I am sure Jonathan would have wished. My niece is a minor, and she is also a considerable heiress. I do not know if my brother favoured this match, but if I have anything to say in the matter, I shall need to know a good deal more about your circumstances before I can consent to it. I intend no disparagement of your birth or character, but a military man is not the husband I would choose for a delicately nurtured girl. I must be fully assured that the dear child has every prospect of comfort and happiness before I can lend my support to your pretensions.”

  The man was really wasted off the stage, Charles decided. He sounded so sincerely concerned that it would have been quite a pity to spoil the tou
ching scene by suggesting that his support had not been asked. As well in any case that Sir Nicholas should think him wholly deceived. Politely he bowed his understanding. “I must acknowledge that your attitude is perfectly reasonable,” he said gravely, “though I trust I shall be able to allay your doubts without undue difficulty once I am assured that you are indeed Miss Easton’s legal guardian. I shall await the outcome of your enquiries with impatience.”

  Since there was really no more to be said Sir Nicholas returned to his voluminous correspondence. Charles chose rather to stroll out of doors in the evening coolness of the tiny garden, where presently he was joined by Nell who had caught a glimpse of his tall figure through the window of the Fleece’s rather grim little parlour.

  “What did he say?” she demanded eagerly.

  Charles shrugged. “Nothing of consequence. Just that he cannot like your marrying a soldier.”

  Nell tossed her head scornfully. “He doesn’t know me. If we were really going to be married, that would be the best part of it. I have always longed to follow the drum. No stupid insipid parties, or minding my tongue and my manners which I’m sure I should never remember to do.”

  The corners of Charles’s mouth twitched. “Madame, you grieve me to the heart,” he said mournfully. “Can it be that my obvious and manifold charms have failed to touch your maiden fancy? That my only attraction in your eyes is that I could offer you a passport to scenes of violence in a dashed uncomfortable and much over-rated peninsula?”

  Nell gave a little gurgle of laughter. “Since you fully intend to cry off as soon as is convenient to you,” she retorted, “you cannot even command my respect, much less my maiden fancy. Besides I know that gentlemen do not understand. Even my papa was used to say that women were a curst nuisance with the army.”