Beatrice Goes to Brighton (13 page)

A hard sore lump was rising in her throat. She tried to fight it down. A pathetic little sob was wrung from her, and to her own horror, large tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

‘What is the matter?’ cried Lord Alistair. He leaned forward and took her head gently in his long fingers and turned her face towards his, looking with
amazement
at the large tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks.

‘Y-you d-do not like me,’ whispered Lady Beatrice.

‘Beatrice! What can I say? I am terrified of you. I fear one move, one sign of warmth from me would set
you laughing at me. You must know you have a bad reputation as a flirt.’

She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose and looked blindly at him. ‘That was when I was so hurt, so furious at what life had done to me. I thought all men like Blackstone, greedy and cruel and lustful.’

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest, holding her gently like a child.

‘Do not cry,’ he said. ‘All that is over now.’

Her lips trembled and he bent his head and kissed her slowly and firmly, then deeper, then with rousing passion as her body was rocked against his own by the motion of the coach.

Never had Lady Beatrice thought to feel passion for any man, or any such burning sweetness as this. Her body now craved the intimacies which had once disgusted her.

He freed his lips and said sadly, ‘If only you could find it in your heart to love me.’

‘But I do!’ cried Lady Beatrice. ‘That is the tragedy of it all!’

He gave a laugh of sheer relief and gladness. ‘That, my sweeting, is the comedy of it all. I love you and you love me and we have been wasting so much time. Kiss me again!’

And so she did and went on returning hot sweet languorous kisses until the carriage began to rattle over the cobbles of London and she had shyly promised to be his bride.

‘I now worry about what to say to Miss Pym,’ she
said. ‘Will she be very angry that I am not to live with her after all?’

‘Let me tell you, my love, that that managing spinster has already told me we should both suit, and I have no doubt in my mind now that she deliberately left us to travel alone in the hope that something would happen. We shall call on her tomorrow and tell her our news!’

In the morning, Hannah, accompanied by Benjamin, went to the round-house.

Sir Geoffrey looked a sorry figure. He was
unshaven
and bits of the straw he had been forced to sleep on clung to his clothes.

‘Leave us,’ said Hannah to the guard. When he had left, she looked sternly at Sir Geoffrey. ‘If I press charges against you,’ she said, ‘you know that you may hang.’

‘You could not be so cruel,’ he said, all his former bluster gone.

‘My dear sir, why not? You tried to kill me.’

He hung his head. ‘The pistol was not loaded. You can ask the captain. I was only going to take my revenge by giving you a fright.’

‘You nearly frightened me to death,’ snapped Hannah, ‘and for that alone, you deserve to hang.’

‘Please do not do this to me,’ he whimpered. ‘I will pay you anything … anything.’

‘Now you’re talking sense,’ said Benjamin cheerfully.

‘Be quiet, Benjamin!’ cried Hannah. She sat for a few moments and said slowly, ‘I will let you off on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘I want you to write me a full confession of your attempts to abduct Lady Beatrice and give it to me. You must never approach her again. If you do, I shall turn your confession over to the authorities.’

‘Anything,’ he gabbled eagerly.

Hannah drew several sheets of paper out of her capacious reticule and then sent Benjamin to fetch ink and a quill. Both sat silently while Sir Geoffrey wrote busily.

At last, when he had finished, Hannah took the confession from him and read it carefully. It was ungrammatical and badly spelt, but she knew it would do. She tucked the papers in her reticule and stood up.

‘I shall tell the guard I am not pressing charges,’ she said severely. ‘But should I ever see you so much as speak to Lady Beatrice, I shall take these papers to the nearest magistrate.’

Humbly Sir Geoffrey thanked her. Hannah went off with Benjamin after her and calmly told the captain that Sir Geoffrey had indeed been foxed and had merely been playing a silly and dangerous prank.

‘So that’s that, Benjamin,’ said Hannah. ‘We will take the next up coach and we will soon be home.’

‘Had enough of travels?’ asked Benjamin.

Hannah laughed. ‘I have had enough of travels and matchmaking to last me a lifetime. No more
stage-coach
journeys after this, Benjamin. It’s home to London for us!’

8

Hannah found she was glad to be back in London among the smells and noise. Her little apartment looked pretty and cosy. She felt she should go and call on Lady Beatrice and find when she planned to move in. They would need to share a bed, a prospect Hannah did not relish. But if only Lady Beatrice would stay away until she had a chance to entertain Sir George Clarence in private, then Hannah felt she could cope with whatever was to come.

She was settling down the following afternoon to enjoy a few moments’ leisure after cleaning the rooms and lighting the fire. Benjamin had done all the
shopping, but she still could not get it through his head that he was supposed to do the housework as well.

He had begged leave to go out and Hannah did hope he was not gambling again. She dreaded the day when a tearful Benjamin would come to her and say he had lost some vast sum.

There was a knock at the door and her thoughts immediately flew to Sir George. But he would not know of her return, she reflected, as she smoothed down her skirt and went to answer the door.

She stepped back a bit, as if dazzled by the glow of happiness on the faces of the couple who stood on the threshold. Hannah looked at Lady Beatrice and Lord Alistair Munro and held out both her hands in welcome. ‘I told you you were both well suited,’ she said.

‘Well, Matchmaker Pym,’ said Lord Alistair when they were all seated before the fire, ‘your plan worked. Did you deliberately leave us to travel together?’

‘Yes,’ said Hannah simply. ‘I did so hope
something
would happen.’

‘And so it has,’ said Lady Beatrice with a laugh. ‘We are to be married by special licence in two weeks’ time, and you, Miss Pym, are to be my maid of honour.’

‘I shall be delighted,’ exclaimed Hannah. ‘But you have not heard my news.’

She told them of Sir Geoffrey’s dressing as a highwayman to waylay the coach.

‘Enough is enough,’ said Lord Alistair. ‘I shall call him out.’

‘No need for that.’ Hannah told the amazed couple about Sir Geoffrey’s confession.

‘You are a miracle worker,’ said Lady Beatrice and looked so radiant and so beautiful that Hannah heaved a sigh of relief that such a priceless pearl would not be around to dazzle Sir George.

They talked for a long time, reminiscing about their various adventures in Brighton, and then the couple took their leave.

Hannah did a jig on the hearthrug after they had left. Then she brought out a travelling writing-desk and set it on her lap and began to compose an invitation to Sir George Clarence. Would he be free on the morrow for tea at five o’clock?

Then she waited in a frenzy of impatience for Benjamin to return. When he finally did saunter in, she berated him roundly on his laziness before handing him the letter. ‘Ah, Sir George,’ said
Benjamin
with a knowing grin. ‘Wondered why you was in such a taking.’ He darted out before Hannah could find something to throw at him.

She paced up and down and up and down, waiting for Benjamin’s return, and when he did return at last with a letter which said Sir George was pleased to accept Miss Pym’s kind invitation, Hannah felt almost sick with nerves.

She hardly slept that night, imagining how he would look and what he would say while getting up to find a suitable gown to wear and then deciding a moment later it would not do at all.

The next morning dragged its weary length along
even though she cleaned everything twice over and tried on several more gowns. The day limped on past two o’clock and then time suddenly began to speed up, moving faster and faster and faster towards the magic hour of five o’clock.

Benjamin was brushed down so many times and so ruthlessly that he said she would wear out his livery.

By ten to five, the cakes and little sandwiches were laid out on a round table before the fire. The silver kettle was steaming on the spirit-stove and a canister of the best tea London could supply was waiting to be opened.

And then there was that knock, and all at once he was there, just as she had imagined him, silver hair brushed and shining, piercing blue eyes resting on her as she told him all about her adventures.

‘You are an amazing lady,’ he said finally. ‘Where do you plan to visit next?’

‘I have had my fill of adventures and travel,’ said Hannah. ‘How are the gardens at Thornton Hall? Has the work on them finished? I would dearly like to see them.’

‘Then you must come with us one day,’ said Sir George.

Hannah felt suddenly cold. ‘Us?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘I am afraid, dear friend, that my bachelor days are over. I cannot wait to introduce the lady to you.’

Benjamin stood frozen behind Hannah’s chair. Then he put one hand on her shoulder and gripped it hard.

‘I should be delighted,’ said Hannah in a colourless voice. ‘Who is this lady?’

‘A Miss Bearcroft.’

‘
Miss
?’

He wagged a playful finger at Hannah. ‘Ah, Miss Pym, you must think I am snatching a maiden out of the schoolroom. Miss Bearcroft is of mature years. In fact, I took the liberty of asking her to call here to meet you. She should arrive at any moment.’

‘More tea?’ asked Hannah through dry lips.

‘No, I thank you.’

There was a long and awkward silence. Then Hannah asked, ‘Are you affianced to this Miss Bearcroft?’

‘Not yet. I have still to find the courage. She is so pretty, so gay, and I am afeard she would laugh at an old stick like myself.’

‘Tish,’ said Hannah, rallying. ‘Miss Bearcroft will be the most fortunate of ladies. The door, Benjamin!’

‘I didn’t hear nothing,’ said Benjamin flatly and gripping Hannah’s shoulder harder.

‘Oh yes, you did,’ said Hannah wearily. ‘Answer the door.’

Benjamin reluctantly did as he was told and Miss Bearcroft bounced in, followed by her maid. Sir George rose and effected the introductions. Miss Bearcroft offered Hannah two fingers to shake. Hannah ignored the fingers and bowed slightly from the waist.

Miss Bearcroft, although in her thirties, was dressed
à la jeune fille
in sprigged muslin with little puffed
sleeves worn under a light pelisse of blue silk trimmed with swansdown. Around her tiny waist was a broad blue satin sash. Her brown hair under a frivolous bonnet was a riot of glossy curls and her pansy-brown eyes were very large and slightly protruding. ‘I am tewwibly pleased to meet you, Miss Pym,’ she gushed as she sat down. ‘I adoah meeting old servants.’

‘Now, now,’ said Sir George, his face rather pink, ‘Miss Pym is a lady of private means.’

Miss Bearcroft’s eyes grew rounder. ‘But you told me she was your bwother’s housekeeper!’

‘Those days are gone,’ said Sir George. ‘I have just been enjoying hearing about Miss Pym’s latest
adventures
. Do tell Miss Bearcroft about meeting the Prince of Wales, Miss Pym.’

Hannah forced a laugh. ‘In truth, Sir George, I have talked so much this afternoon. I fear I have given myself the headache. Would you be so good as to excuse me?’

‘By all means. Come, Miss Bearcroft.’

‘Yes, you must have your west,’ lisped Miss Bearcroft, making Hannah feel at least a hundred. ‘My old nurse used to get
such
pains in the head. If your son would be so good as to show us out.’

Sir George, who had been regarding his beloved up until that moment with a certain amused
indulgence
in his blue eyes, stiffened. ‘Your wits are wandering,’ he said harshly. ‘How can
Miss
Pym have a son, and why on earth would she have him dressed in livery?’

Miss Bearcroft’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Now you are
cwoss with me and I cannot bear it. You know I am just a silly little thing.’

Hannah sank down wearily in her chair after they had gone and waved a tired hand to indicate that Benjamin had permission to sit down as well.

‘Fool!’ said Hannah harshly.

‘And no fool like an old fool,’ agreed Benjamin.

‘Meaning me?’

‘O’ course not. Meaning Sir George. No wonder she ain’t been married afore, and I’ll tell you something else, mum – that there Miss Bearcroft ain’t no better than she should be.’

‘Come, Benjamin. I am grateful for your attempted moral support, but despite her bitchiness and silliness, she is all that is proper.’ Hannah lay back and half closed her eyes. ‘I remember there was a friend of the Clarences’, a guest … what was his name? Ah, Churchill. Mr Churchill. A fine upstanding man, very clever, very elegant. Forty-eight if he was a day. He fell in love with a silly vulgar chit. Mrs Clarence tried all in her power to dissuade him, but he would have none of it. He married the girl.’

‘And lived unhappily ever after,’ commented Benjamin gloomily.

‘Oh, no, he remained delighted with her and laughed uproariously at all her silliness. She was a constant delight to him. It has always amazed me how gentlemen prefer very silly women. It is what they expect us to be.’

‘But this Mrs Churchill was surely just silly, not vicious,’ asked Benjamin.

‘No, she was not vicious,’ said Hannah slowly.

‘There you are. I’m telling you, modom, it’s your duty to find out about this Miss Bearcroft and put him wise.’

‘Sir George is nothing to do with me. He has made his own bed. Let him lie on it.’

Benjamin tried to protest, but Hannah reminded him sharply of his duties as a footman and
commanded
him to take away the tea-things and wash them. She was going to bed.

The footman anxiously watched her go to her bedroom and slam the door. When had the
redoubtable
Miss Pym ever felt the need to lie down during the day? Benjamin busied himself about his duties while his brain worked furiously. There must be some way Sir George could be made to see the folly of his ways.

Lady Beatrice was surprised next morning to hear that a person called Benjamin Stubbs was demanding an audience with her.

‘I do not know any person called Stubbs,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘What sort of fellow is he?’

‘Footman, my lady,’ said the servant. ‘Tall chap in black livery.’

‘Ah,’ said Lady Beatrice, remembering Hannah’s servant was called Benjamin, ‘I think I had better see him. Show him up.’

‘Is anything wrong with Miss Pym?’ asked Lady Beatrice anxiously as Benjamin was ushered in.

‘Everythink’s wrong, my lady,’ said Benjamin gloomily.

‘Lord Alistair Munro,’ announced Lady Beatrice’s footman from the doorway.

‘You are come at the right time,’ said Lady Beatrice, running to meet him. ‘Here is Miss Pym’s Benjamin and something has happened to her.’

Lord Alistair’s face darkened. ‘Not Sir Geoffrey! Don’t tell me he has harmed her.’

‘No, no,’ protested Benjamin. ‘Nuffink like that. It’s that there Sir George Clarence.’

Lady Beatrice frowned in puzzlement and then her face cleared. ‘Ah, I have it. The brother of her late employer.’

‘The same,’ said Benjamin gloomily. ‘Miss Pym was in high alt because Sir George was coming to tea. Seems he allus visits her after one of her journeys because he likes hearing about her adventures. Well, the mistress was in such a taking, dressing up in one gown and changing it for another and cleaning and cleaning until everything shone like glass. In comes Sir George and it all looks April and May and he can’t seem to hear enough of her tales. Then he ups and says he’s about to get married or rather pop the question to a Miss Bearcroft, and he has asked this Miss Bearcroft to call round and meet Miss Pym.’

‘Men!’ said Lady Beatrice.

‘So in comes this Miss Bearcroft all lisps and giggles and mutton dressed as lamb and
she offers Miss Pym two fingers to shake
. But there’s worse. As she was leaving, for Miss Pym said she had the headache, and no wonder if you ask me, this poxy trollop having already referred to Miss Pym as an old servant, she
ups and asks Miss Pym to ask her
son
to show them out. Sir George goes all frosty, as if he’s just realized the mistake he’s about to make, but Miss Pym, and she’s very wise, she says gentlemen like fools and more or less says he’ll probably be very happy. And then she goes off to bed and it not even bedtime, and her eyes this morning are all red like she’s been crying and I can’t bear it.’ Benjamin took out a large grubby handkerchief and blew his nose.

Lady Beatrice spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I do not really see what we can do.’

‘Well, you see, Miss Pym don’t agree with me,’ said Benjamin earnestly, ‘but I think this here Miss Bearcroft is Haymarket ware, and if you could find out and if he was put wise, like, the mistress could be happy again.’

‘You are a very loyal servant, Benjamin,’ said Lord Alistair. ‘Are you sure you are not romancing?’

‘I can tell a lightskirt a mile off,’ said Benjamin. ‘No matter how they’s dressed.’

‘I will see what I can find out,’ said Lord Alistair slowly, ‘but I cannot hold out much hope.’

When Benjamin had left, he turned to Lady Beatrice and said, ‘What do you think? Should I waste time I might be spending with you finding out about Benjamin’s trollop?’