A Sister's Secret (11 page)

‘It will come to your hand, sir, only after much thought. Why did you not tell me what you were intending to do?’

‘You were out when I brought your sister back from our drive,’ said the captain. ‘Incidentally, marm, I have made a little progress with her. She has confessed she regards me as a dear and understanding friend.’

‘God help my poor sister,’ said Caroline, ‘and may He forgive me for bringing such a man as you into her life.’

Those first days were not the easiest for Caroline. Enduring Captain Burnside as a guest was bad enough; pretending a liking for him as an old friend was worse. And watching his progress with her sister rattled her beyond anything. She felt no satisfaction at all in seeing how Annabelle began to show animation whenever she was in close company with him. True, he did not play his part in an oily way; rather, his approach was that of a friend entirely at his ease. Perhaps they were at their most intimate whenever they sat down at the piano together and played little duets. Then Caroline found herself gritting her teeth at the physical proximity this entailed. How wretched that this could not be avoided.

However, although Annabelle was taking obvious
pleasure in his company, she did not look as if he had become vitally necessary to her happiness – which was a relief to Caroline on the one hand, and a frustration on the other.

‘You are still quite comfortable.’ It was a statement from the austerely clad Erzburger, not an enquiry.

‘Comfortable as I ever was, Your Honour,’ said the small, wiry Irishman, ‘but could I draw Your Honour’s kind attention to my health? Sure, it’s meself that’s ailing, so it is, and all for want of using my legs.’

‘You have been using them, and expressly against our advice,’ said Erzburger.

‘So I have, Your Honour, in the house …’

‘Outside the house,’ said Erzburger reprovingly.

‘Well, so I did, Your Honour, to taste the fresh air.’

‘You were seen walking, Mr Maguire.’

‘It’s cruel hard on a man’s legs not to let them go for a walk once in a while.’

‘It could prove harder if your legs were discovered and you with them,’ said Erzburger. ‘The men you described have not yet been apprehended. If they have disappeared, Mr Maguire, it is probably because they were aware they had been overheard. Which means you are in the gravest danger, as His Royal Highness and I suspected. We must impress on you again: do nothing to draw attention to your presence here. Do not show yourself at the windows or venture into the street. If you do, we cannot guarantee your safety. It was fortunate that it was a friend of mine who saw you out this morning, and a credit to your good sense that you allowed him to persuade you to return.’

‘Ah, the divil of a persuasive gintleman he was,’ said Mr Maguire, and looked uneasy. ‘Was it Your Honour’s own friend?’

‘It was. He lives close by, and while he knows nothing of the real reason why you are in danger, he has promised to keep your welfare close to his heart. I have told him you have enemies, and he will raise the alarm if he suspects they have entered the neighbourhood. I have also told him you are a loyal and worthy subject of His Majesty the King. Accept, therefore, that you have a sympathizer close by and do not give him further worry by showing yourself on the street again.’

‘The divil I will,’ said Mr Maguire, convinced now that he was indeed in danger. ‘The kindly gintleman is three times my size, so he is, Your Honour.’

‘Be sure, Mr Maguire, that your safety is our first concern,’ said Erzburger, ‘and that we shall look to it until the papists are in the hands of the law. The food I have brought you now should be enough for today and tomorrow, when I will see you again, as usual.’

‘Thank you, Your Honour, and God keep His Royal Highness.’

On the morning of Thursday, with the river outing arranged, Caroline spoke to Captain Burnside while they waited for Annabelle to come down. ‘You are making haste too slowly, Captain Burnside.’

‘Oh, we have Cumberland’s IOU, marm, and his request for a return game. And we also have eyes in his camp.’

‘Yes, we have all that,’ said Caroline, ‘but although Annabelle is showing interest in you, we do not have any lessening of her feelings for Cumberland. I put a plain question to her ten minutes ago, and was appalled by her answer, for she has now acquired an impossible notion that in order to possess her Cumberland will marry her.’

‘Ah,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘and if he says he will, you suspect she’ll believe him – and that in her infatuation she’ll then yield?’

‘Don’t speak of it. Prevent it.’

‘Time, marm, that’s the thing. Give the sweet girl enough time and she’ll come to see Cumberland as a ruination, not a husband, and by then she’ll be seeing me as a far worthier candidate for her affections.’

‘I could wish she might see what was true, sir, that you are as much of a ruination as Cumberland, but that would
not do if she were still blind to his tricks. As for time, I hope you aren’t contriving to engage in a marathon, for I vow I should find it all of unendurable to house you here indefinitely.’

‘Be in good heart, marm, it won’t take as long as that,’ said the captain cheerfully.

‘Your deeds, sir, have not yet quite matched your words,’ said Caroline, and wondered, not for the first time, if her scheme was a sheer absurdity and Captain Burnside the most ridiculous part of it.

Both sisters were in summery, patterned muslin, and each wore a white bonnet. Annabelle looked young and extremely pretty. Caroline looked superb. The sunny day was an embracing warmth. Captain Burnside, handsome in a dark brown coat and light brown breeches, beaver hat jauntily set on his head, drove the carriage. He handled the pair in the fashion of a man whose main consideration was for his passengers, and the jolts sustained over the rougher roads were of the gentlest.

Arriving at Richmond a little before noon, he hired a cushioned punt, and with the sisters comfortably ensconced and the picnic hamper safely stowed, he doffed his coat and hat, took up the pole and set off upriver. His application was smooth and easy, and the punt glided over the smooth waters of the sun-dappled Thames. On either side, the green banks and riverside gardens were a pleasure to the eye, although Annabelle, with her virginal interest in men, found Captain Burnside even more of a pleasure to behold. In his cream-coloured waistcoat, casually folded cravat and tight breeches, his slenderness was of a sinewy kind, his looks commendably personable.

Reclining beside her sister, their parasols up, she
murmured, ‘Caroline, I do declare your friend, Captain Burnside, very pleasing and versatile.’

‘Captain Burnside, I’m sure, is happy to hear you say so,’ said Caroline.

‘Flattered, on my honour I am,’ said the captain. ‘I confess, of course, to lacking the high majesty of a man like the Duke of Cumberland, but there are few men who can compare with him.’

Caroline frowned.

Annabelle looked as if she would like to hear more. ‘One must agree the duke carries himself like a man born to be a monarch,’ she said.

‘He won’t be monarch of this country, I fervently hope,’ said Caroline.

‘His four elder brothers stand between him and the throne,’ said Captain Burnside, plying the pole lazily. The light rippled over its wet length, and that same light enriched the colours of the sisters’ gowns. Caroline’s ankles peeped in their white silk hose, and the warm river breeze stirred the hems of her gown and underskirt.

‘Since none of his brothers has a son,’ she said, ‘one must pray he doesn’t outlive them, for I could not bear England to have Cumberland for King.’

‘You are very hard on him,’ said Annabelle, ‘and surely he would make a better monarch than the present one, whose obstinacy was the cause of such a bitter quarrel between England and the American colonies.’

‘Cumberland would have been no less distant and haughty,’ said Caroline, ‘but today is really too beautiful for us to examine our differences. Instead, let us enjoy the tranquillity of this peaceful Thames, down which Captain Burnside is rowing us.’

‘Up,’ said the captain.

‘Up?’ said Caroline.

‘We’re proceeding upriver, my dear Caroline, and – ah – we’re punting, not boating.’

Caroline’s parasol shifted a little to uncover her eyes, which held their cool look. ‘A punt is a boat, Captain Burnside,’ she said.

‘Well, not precisely, d’you see,’ he said from high above her, ‘and this is a pole, not an oar.’

‘A pole or an oar, what an absurd basis on which to build an argument,’ said Caroline.

Captain Burnside smiled and took the punt leisurely on. Annabelle, languorous, dreamed of becoming wholly irresistible to the magnetic Cumberland. With riverside mansions and green lawns gliding by, Caroline found herself in unexpected enjoyment of the outing. She had not wanted to come, for there was no pleasure to be had from the artificiality of her relationship with Captain Burnside. Further, without her there, he could have been making unhindered progress with Annabelle. Not that she cared to think too much about what unhindered progress meant, especially as it was not too difficult to picture how an unprincipled rake like her hireling would go about it. They would be moored beneath the shade of an overhanging willow, the profuse green fronds hiding them, Annabelle reclining and the blackguard reclining with her; Annabelle, fresh and eager, too dazzled by London society and its sophisticated men for her own good, her gown far too revealing, her bosom far too defenceless, and Captain Burnside all too despicably accomplished in the art of reducing a young lady to weakness.

Caroline quivered at her imaginings, and her own gown, with its low bodice, seemed far too revealing then. She had not known a man’s caress for years, not since she had refused to be a wife to Clarence and locked him out of her bedroom.

She could have withdrawn from this outing and accepted an invitation to lunch with Lady Wingrove and her son Gerald Wingrove. Mr Wingrove was a man of fine looks and sterling character, the kind of gentleman she favoured. He was lately an admirer, and made no secret of the fact that he would like to become a suitor. She was still wary of all suitors, but Mr Wingrove could not be said to be objectionable in any way. She might have been in pleasant and civilized conversation with him now instead of being in this punt, with Captain Burnside looming above her and Annabelle, eyes sometimes on the river ahead and sometimes on their escort. In her sudden excess of sensitivity, Caroline tilted her parasol so that it hid her from him. His eyes could be very impudent.

Yet, because the day was so lovely, the river so tranquil, she did not feel certain that she would rather have been at Lady Wingrove’s. Her temporary dislike of the moment slipped away and she relaxed, listening almost dreamily to Annabelle lightly conversing with the captain. Annabelle always had a fund of appealing chatter, and the captain had the facile tongue of his kind. She heard Annabelle laugh. Did she find him amusing? What had he said? It did not matter. He was playing his part in making himself appealing to her sister.

Captain Burnside brought the punt into an inlet, where huge willows hung over the water and a grassy bank beckoned. A protruding notice board advised that the land beyond the bank was private property.

‘Should we picnic here?’ asked Caroline.

‘A capital suggestion,’ said Captain Burnside.

‘It’s private property,’ she said.

‘A guarantee that we shan’t be disturbed by Tom, Dick and Harry,’ said the captain. He edged the punt gently against a little timber landing stage and moored it.

Caroline saw an inviting expanse of grass that was patterned by sunlight and shade. ‘How charming,’ she said.

‘How romantic,’ said Annabelle.

‘It seems uncrowded,’ said Captain Burnside.

‘We shall trespass only lightly,’ said Annabelle.

‘Should we trespass at all?’ said Caroline, who sometimes suffered a small army of poachers on her Sussex estate.

‘Perhaps not,’ said Captain Burnside, wishful to play a faultless role as a gentleman.

‘But it is so perfect for a picnic,’ said Annabelle.

‘Well, we shall do no harm,’ said Caroline.

Captain Burnside gave each lady a hand on to the landing stage. Caroline’s clasp was very light, and she freed her fingers the moment her feet were secure. Annabelle’s hand lingered a little in his, and her smile let him know she was delighted with his choice of a picnic spot. Caroline did not miss the lingering of the handclasp. She was not displeased, but neither was she glad. She was suffering paradoxical reactions, probably because she suspected that if Captain Burnside did win her sister’s affections, he was quite capable of pleasuring himself. Annabelle, wilful though she was, was also very sweet.

Captain Burnside lifted out the large hamper.

Caroline, deciding she must put aside her qualms and give the rogue every opportunity to exercise his talents, said, ‘If Annabelle will help you set out the picnic, I shall take a little stroll, for I declare we have found ourselves a meadow of buttercups.’

‘Oh, I’m sure Charles and I will set it out to perfection,’ said Annabelle. ‘He is so capable, and I am not actually helpless without servants around. Together, we shall lay a
very inviting picnic cloth, shall we not, Charles?’

‘Heaven help my part in it if we don’t,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘for I recollect your sister can be very exacting.’

‘In some matters, yes, Captain Burnside,’ said Caroline. ‘In other matters, I am an angel in my tolerance.’ And she strolled away under her parasol, her summery gown a fluttering lightness that made her look as if she were floating into the embrace of the warm, amorous sun.

Annabelle opened the hamper and extracted the large white picnic tablecloth with lead weights sewn into its hem to prevent summer breezes lifting it. Captain Burnside spread it out over the grass. Annabelle, unloading neatly packed items, returned compulsively to the subject of the Duke of Cumberland, insisting that although he could be very audacious he was really very much maligned. Naturally, as a royal duke, he was formidably aristocratic, but that gave him a majesty which suited him. Alas, however, such majesty was apt to make her feel weak when she needed to be strong.