by M C Beaton
‘And so your Benjamin, instead of going ahead to be one of England’s greatest fighters, decided out of gratitude to stay as your servant,’ said Mr Carruthers.
‘’Ere!’ said Benjamin, finding his voice. ‘I stay ’cos I wants to stay. What’s the fun o’ getting smashed in the victualling-box?’
There was a roar of laughter at this from all except Clarissa, who looked at Hannah in round-eyed amazement. ‘I fear we are shocking Miss Clarissa,’ said William.
‘I could never do such things,’ said Clarissa. ‘I should be frightened to death.’ She shrank a little toward William, who laughed and patted her hand and called her a silly puss.
Deborah looked crossly at William and reflected that she had never seen her brother make such a cake of himself before.
She was glad when the meal was over and prayed these unwelcome guests would soon take themselves off, but there was William, offering to take Clarissa on a tour of the gardens. ‘Well, Lady Deborah,’ mocked the earl, ‘are the rest of us to be neglected? Or may we see the gardens?’
‘If you wish,’ said Deborah crossly. The company all rinsed out their mouths and wiped them on the tablecloth, napkins still being considered a newfangled French custom. Deborah led the way out.
The day was warm and balmy. She walked quickly to try to keep up with her brother and Clarissa, who were heading for the rose garden. She had a sudden stabbing fear that William would do something insane like propose marriage.
‘Not so fast,’ she heard the earl say. ‘It is too fine a day to charge along. Besides, your brother is old enough to look after himself.’
‘He may do something he might regret,’ snapped Deborah. ‘Imagine having that as a sister-in-law.’
‘You could fare worse,’ he said easily. ‘She is sweet and kind.’
‘Pooh,’ exclaimed Deborah. ‘She would bore him to death!’
He caught her arm and swung her round to face him. ‘Perhaps not. There is such a thing as love.’
Her eyes flew up to meet his and then dropped. She tugged her arm away and said, ‘You only say such things to torment me.’
‘Not I. As I pointed out earlier, I have your welfare at heart.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of my friendship with your father.’
‘Of course. You are old, like my father, are you not?’
He studied her flushed face. ‘Not a worthy remark,’ he said. ‘Let us walk on.’ Deborah marched beside him. ‘Here we are at the rose garden,’ he said, ‘and there are your brother and Miss Carruthers, standing by the sundial, looking very romantic.’
‘Fiddle. The roses are not yet out. There is nothing to see but thorns and leaves.’
‘Which is exactly what I think when I look at you,’ said the earl.
Deborah made an impatient noise and went to join her brother, but for the first time William looked as if he heartily wished her elsewhere.
‘I see Captain Beltravers has walked off with your daughter,’ Hannah was saying to Mrs Conningham. ‘Are you not concerned?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Conningham placidly. ‘The captain is a gentleman and I felt it my duty to tell him during luncheon that Abigail was already engaged. Let us sit down, Miss Pym. The day is quite warm.’
Both ladies sat down on a rustic bench. Hannah watched the retreating figures of Abigail and Captain Beltravers and wondered what the normally silent and withdrawn soldier was finding to talk about.
‘Uncle Henry is very wealthy,’ Abigail was saying sadly. ‘He could have provided for the lot of us, that is, Mother and all my brothers and sisters, and barely have noticed the difference. Oh, he has said now, he will help, but only if I marry this Mr Clegg.’
‘It is a miserable situation for you,’ commented the captain. ‘Can nothing be done?’
Abigail shook her head. ‘I am twenty and Mama says I will soon be on the shelf. My sister Jane is nineteen and the beauty of the family. She told me I was being a ninny and that I would have a grand house and all the clothes I wanted.’
‘Then why did not Jane take your place?’
‘Because Mama says the eldest must be married first and that Jane with her looks can find a husband anywhere.’
‘Perhaps when you are in Dover, you can appeal to your uncle’s good nature.’
‘As I recall,’ said Abigail, ‘he hasn’t got a good nature.’
He walked along beside her in silence for quite a while and then said, ‘I have been thinking of Miss Pym and her adventures, Miss Conningham. She seems a very competent and strong lady. Might it not be an idea to talk to her? I cannot think of any solution, but she may.’
Abigail brightened and turned to him. ‘Do you think so? Do you really think so?’
‘Anything is better than being without hope,’ he replied in a low voice.
‘Oh,’ said Abigail with quick sympathy. ‘I heard you telling Miss Pym about your wife and child. How very terrible for you and how you must hate the military and everything to do with it.’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘I never thought about it,’ he said slowly. ‘I have always been a soldier.’
‘But don’t you see,’ cried Abigail, looking almost pretty in her concern for him, ‘everything must remind you of your sad loss. When you go on campaigns, and see other wives being treated badly, it all must remind you of your lost wife. If I were you, I would hate my superior officers for being such callous monsters.’
She stopped and turned to face him, tears standing out in her eyes and her face flushed.
‘Why, Miss Abigail,’ exclaimed the captain. ‘I … I … well, by George, you have the right of it.’
‘But can you afford to sell out?’ asked Abigail delicately.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘That is the tragedy, don’t you see? If my Mary had stayed at home, she could have lived in comfort. There was no need for her to come. But I was heedless and thoughtless. I tell you, Miss Abigail, I sometimes look on myself as a murderer.’
He suddenly sat down on the grass and began to cry.
Abigail sank down beside him, her skirts spreading out over the grass. ‘There now,’ she said helplessly. ‘There! It is all over, and Mary and your boy are in Heaven and looking down on you. They are with the angels and very happy, that I do know.’ She put an arm about his shaking shoulders and held him until the spasm of grief had passed. He scrubbed his eyes and said half-ashamed, ‘I should not have inflicted my grief on you.’
‘You had to cry sometime,’ said Abigail practically. ‘I do believe, Captain Beltravers, that this is the first time you have ever cried.’
He nodded dumbly. ‘Then we will rise and continue our walk,’ said Abigail in a motherly voice, ‘until you have recovered yourself, and then we will return to the abbey and find you a fortifying glass of brandy.’
He rose and helped her to her feet, holding both of her hands tightly. ‘I shall never forget you,’ he said quietly and then dropped her hands as if suddenly embarrassed. Abigail blushed and then tucked her hand in his arm and together they walked off across the lawns.
Hannah, discussing the best ways of whitening linen with Mrs Conningham, covertly watched the two tiny figures disappear from view. She wondered if the captain had any money. She wondered why Lady Deborah looked changed since that kiss which must have taken place. She wondered about all sorts of interesting things while a small part of her mind coped with the domestic conversation with Mrs Conningham.
At last, she saw Lady Deborah returning from the rose garden. She was alone and looked in a furious temper. Behind her came William, stooping down to hear what the dainty little Clarissa was saying, and behind them strolled the earl with his friend, Mr Carruthers.
Then from the other direction came Abigail with the captain, no longer a shy Abigail but a determined lady who asked if the captain might have some brandy because he had been feeling unwell.
They all went up to the drawing-room, where the captain was given a bumper of brandy b
y William. The rest were served with wine and cakes. Hannah noticed that despite the masculine chaos that usually reigned in the rooms of the abbey, the house boasted an excellent cook and the twins were good hosts. Some effort had been made to clean up the jumble which normally filled the drawing-room and the dogs were mercifully absent.
Mrs Conningham, aware that her daughter was fussing too much around the captain, announced loudly that they should take their leave. Mr Carruthers said he and his sister had to make arrangements for their journey to London in the morning. Benjamin left to bring the carriage round.
On the journey back to the inn, Captain Beltravers set himself to talk to Mrs Conningham and kept that lady so interested that Hannah was able to turn the events of the day over in her mind in peace. They were to leave Rochester on the repaired stage-coach in the morning. That, thought Hannah, was a pity, for she had become interested in Lord William and Lady Deborah. She would have liked to know whether Lady Deborah thought of the earl at all and what she thought and if William meant seriously to court Clarissa.
There was a long silence in the drawing-room after the guests had left. The dogs were allowed back in. William put his booted feet on the table and yawned and then said, ‘Dashed fine girl.’
‘The Clarissa creature? Pooh! You don’t half make a cake of yourself when you set your mind to it,’ sneered his sister.
He grinned. ‘I would call losing a race and having to kiss the winner making a cake of m’self. How was it, Deb? I’ll bet our Puritan Ashley gave you a chaste kiss on the brow.’
‘Something like that,’ said Deborah quickly. ‘Don’t let’s talk about him. Were you really taken with that simpering, chattering fool?’
William eyed her levelly. ‘Don’t ever, not ever, speak of Clarissa Carruthers in such terms again. Do I make myself clear?’
Deborah looked at him in dismay. ‘But I was funning. You really did fancy her?’
‘Yes,’ said William quietly. ‘And next week I plan to go to London to stay with Aunt Jill so’s I can call on Miss Carruthers.’
‘If you marry, William, where would you live?’
‘Why, here,’ said William, looking around. ‘Bags of room.’
‘Oh.’ Deborah pleated the skirt of her gown with nervous fingers. Everything was changing so quickly. And there was not much to divert William. The hunting season was over. She could not let him sit and brood about this Clarissa or he would rush off to London and propose to her on the spot and then Clarissa would be the lady of Downs Abbey, prattling about the rooms, boring the very air with her inane remarks. She must think up something to amuse her brother so that he would forget the existence of Miss Carruthers.
‘I like that Miss Pym,’ said Deborah. ‘What a character. I swear that adventures must follow her around. I like hearing her stories. Curst flat here, ain’t it?’
‘You’d best stop talking like that, Deb,’ said William severely. ‘Won’t do for a lady’s drawing-room.’
‘Oh, as you will,’ said Deborah hurriedly. ‘Tell you what, we’ve never travelled on the stage. Why don’t we pack bags and go down to the Crown and have supper, stay the night and take the stage to Dover in the morning?’
William looked doubtful. ‘You can’t really call on your Clarissa until next week,’ pursued Deborah. ‘I mean you’ll need to warn Aunt Jill of your arrival.’
His face cleared. ‘Capital idea, but just one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Dress like a woman, would you?’
Deborah was about to shout at him that she would dress any way she pleased, but that might mean he would not go and William must be diverted at all costs, lest the terrible Clarissa would soon be in residence.
The Earl of Ashton felt strangely depressed. Usually he was perfectly happy in the evenings with his own company. He found he had a desire to ride back to Downs Abbey but could not think up a logical reason for doing so. He remembered a neighbour, Sir Paul Langford, had house guests and that he had promised he might, just might, call in later, although he had refused an invitation to supper. There would be company, for the Langfords liked to entertain, and noise and music.
On impulse, he ordered his carriage and told his valet to lay out his evening clothes. Soon he was changed and travelling on his way to the Langfords’.
Sir Paul had a comfortable mansion which was lit from top to bottom when the earl arrived. He hesitated for a moment, suddenly regretting his impulse, but the grooms were already holding his horses’ heads and the butler was standing on the steps to receive him. He could hardly turn about and drive off.
Supper was over and the company were assembled in the music room listening to a lady carolling popular ballads.
He smiled across at Sir Paul and took a chair at the back of the room.
He became aware that a lady close by was studying him. He glanced at her. She caught his eye and smiled slowly, a seductive smile, and he felt his senses quicken. She was of mature years, but quite striking with her large eyes and oiled brown hair dressed in one of the latest Roman fashions. She had an excellent white bosom, most of which was bared, showing half of each nipple, which had been rouged. He wondered who she was and then thought this saucy lady who was throwing him such inviting glances might be the very thing to take the taste of that bewitching kiss from Lady Deborah out of his mouth and out of his mind.
When the concert was over, the guests started to stroll about the rooms. Sir Paul came up to him, and at the same time, there was the lady of the rouged nipples, fanning herself slowly and obviously waiting for an introduction.
‘May I present the Earl of Ashton … Lady Carsey,’ said Sir Paul.
Now where, thought the earl, have I heard that name before?
He bowed over her hand. ‘Did you go to the prize-fight, Ashton?’ asked Sir Paul.
‘Yes,’ said the earl, ‘but we must not discuss prize-fights in front of the ladies.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Lady Carsey. ‘I believe it was quite an event. The famous Randall beaten by an unknown.’
‘A strange fellow,’ said Sir Paul with a laugh. ‘Name of Benjamin Stubbs. Could have made himself a fortune as a fighter, but after he had won he returned like a lamb to his duties as footman to some spinster who is travelling on the stage to Rochester.’
Just as Lady Carsey went very still and her eyes sharpened, the earl realized where he had heard her name before. This then was the dangerous Lady Carsey who had nearly had Benjamin killed.
‘They will all be in Dover by now, I think,’ he said lightly. ‘I mean, the fighter and his mistress.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Sir Paul jovially. ‘Stage was up at Limmers’ for repairs. Leaves in the morning.’
The earl bowed to Lady Carsey and then walked off, nodding to a few acquaintances before he was able to politely take his leave. He must warn Miss Pym that Benjamin’s old tormentor was not only in the vicinity but knew of his whereabouts.
4
And almost every one when age,
Disease, or sorrows strike him,
Inclines to think there is a God,
Or something very like Him.
Arthur Hugh Clough
Hannah was polishing the furniture in her inn bedchamber as a way of relaxing before going down to supper when there came a knock at the door. She guiltily thrust the duster in her trunk, knowing that a visitor would think it strange in the extreme that any lady would perform a job that inn servants were paid to do – with the exception of Benjamin, who would nonetheless give her a lecture on what a lady should do and should not do.
She opened the door. Abigail Conningham stood there, looking at her nervously. ‘May I beg a word in private with you, Miss Pym?’
Hannah nodded, her eyes gleaming green with curiosity. They sat in chairs on either side of the fireplace. ‘Captain Beltravers suggested I should talk to you,’ said Abigail earnestly to the corner of the mantelshelf.
‘Ah!’
‘You see, I am being taken to
my uncle’s in Dover so that I may wed a friend of his, a Mr Clegg.’
‘So I have heard,’ said Hannah, and waited for more.
‘I have been very miserable about it – am miserable. But I comforted myself nonetheless by thinking I was doing my duty. Uncle Henry has promised to give Mama money for our upkeep if I wed Mr Clegg. But now we are so very nearly at Dover, I feel quite desperate. I confided as much to Captain Beltravers and he suggested I should talk to you about the matter.’
‘Very proper.’ Hannah folded her hands in her lap. ‘First tell me: is your family in very straitened circumstances?’
‘I believe so, although since Papa died, which was two years ago, Mama has handled the purse-strings. I have eight brothers and sisters, all younger than I. There is Jane, of course. She is nineteen and very beautiful and would not have minded in the slightest had Uncle Henry chosen her for Mr Clegg. She says she longs for an establishment of her own, for she has to share a bedchamber with me and that she does not like. I have tried to talk to Mama about this, but when I do, she cries and calls me selfish and ungrateful. I am sure I am, for many of my friends have married without a murmur those chosen for them by their parents.’
‘It is kind of Captain Beltravers to interest himself in your predicament,’ said Hannah. ‘He is a fine man.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Abigail’s eyes glowed. ‘I pride myself that I was able to be of help to him.’
‘How so?’
‘He told you of the death of his wife and child?’ Hannah nodded. ‘So I was able to make him realize that he no longer likes being a soldier and should sell out.’
‘He may not be able to,’ said Hannah cautiously.
‘The captain said he was not short of money.’
‘Then why is he only a captain at his age?’ demanded Hannah. ‘In this perfidious age, the higher ranks are there for the buying.’
‘I believe it takes influence as well as money,’ said Abigail wisely. ‘Oh, but much as I long to see the captain happy, I can really only think of myself. What am I to do?’
