Carola Dunn (10 page)

She must have looked doubtful, for he added urgently, “Please. Please come.”

Unwilling to add to his unaccountable distress, she acquiesced. As they walked across the Pump Yard and under the colonnade, he congratulated her jokingly on Lucy Pearson’s transformation. By the time he handed her into the curricle she wondered whether she had imagined his previous agitation.

Taking the reins from the groom and seating himself beside her on the dark blue leather seat, he said, “I believe Nathan admires Miss Pearson almost as much as he admires my carriage. He was struck by it the moment he first saw it, was he not?”

“Yes, he... That is, I...” To her annoyance, Jessica felt her cheeks grow hot with remembered embarrassment. “It is an exceptionally elegant vehicle,” she said, self-consciously but firmly, “and your bays are splendid.”

“Are they not?” he agreed, setting them in motion. “I had a notion, that day, that they had caught your eye.”

“Oh!” Her exclamation was stifled, but attempting to sound unconcerned she enquired cautiously, “That day?”

“Your first in Bath, was it? The first time I saw you.”

“Then you
did
recognize me! And you are laughing at me. You must have thought me shockingly bold, to be staring so at a stranger.”

“On the contrary, I was sure you had turned to speak to your brother, and I wished I had had the good fortune to capture your attention as I had his.”

“You are kind, sir. I did hope you had not noticed me in that sadly dowdy bonnet. It was the best one in Durham but disgracefully provincial, I fear. Besides, I had no heart for shopping while Nathan was in America.” When he did not respond she glanced sideways at him, to find the teasing look gone. There was a heavy frown. between his brows, and his eyes were troubled. “What is it? Have I said something to distress you?”

“No, of course not. It is nothing.”

“Are you in pain, Mr. Walsingham? Shall we go home? Pray tell me what is the matter.”

He was silent for a moment, guiding his horses into the Lansdown Road, then he burst out, his tone anguished, “That battle—they’re calling it Waterloo. Hanson had the latest newspaper. Oh, we beat the Frenchies all right, but ‘fore God, it was a Pyrrhic victory. Twenty thousand dead on our side, they say. The Highland Brigade cut to pieces, and Kempt’s and the King’s German Legion. Picton gone, and half the Duke’s staff, and God knows who else.”

“Your friends...” Her heart ached for his sorrow.

“...Those few left after the Peninsula. I don’t know—the lists are not published yet. War is Hell, Jessica. Never let anyone tell you it’s glorious. But this is no fitting subject for a fine day and a lovely lady.” With a visible effort he pulled himself together. “I suppose you have not yet had time to begin the drawing you promised me?”

Bemused by his unthinking use of her Christian name, she was glad to help divert his mind from destruction to creation. “For Lord Ilfracombe? I have finished it, to the best of my abilities. I never thought it could be so difficult to work out where a shadow ought to lie. You must look at it and judge whether it is sufficiently accurate.”

“I have no doubt of it, as long as you have resisted the temptation to embellish my façade with angels on ladders. I sketched in a heating system yesterday. It will take some research to design it properly, but I want to make sure Ilfracombe is still interested before I do the work. He may have found another architect by now.”

“You said he is your friend.”

“He is, though he is considerably older than I. He was a protégé of my father at the Home Office, and after my father’s death I used to spend part of my school holidays with him.”

“He is still a bachelor, I suppose?”

Matthew laughed. “You are thinking of the lack of a drawing room. Yes, he is a bachelor, though he’s titled, wealthy, generally considered handsome, and popular with the ladies.”

“A very paragon! Perhaps he is unable to choose among all those vying for his favour.”

“Perhaps, but rumour has it that he suffered a disappointment in youth. I did hope once that he and my aunt Caroline—but nothing came of it, and after all I was a mere child. Doubtless I misunderstood the situation, or perhaps it was wishful thinking. Aunt Caroline came to live with my father and me when my mother, her older sister, died, and of course Lord IIfracombe often visited my father.”

They had reached the top of Lansdown Hill. He turned off the road onto a grassy track, and drew his team to a halt facing back across the town and the river to Beechen Cliff. The well-bred bays stood quietly, with an occasional toss of the head. Jessica duly admired the view, but she was far more interested in Mr. Walsingham’s family history.

“Where did you spend the rest of your school holidays?” she asked, “when you were not with Lord IIfracombe? Oh dear, that sounds shockingly inquisitive.”

He grinned at her. “It is, but I am by far too good-natured to leave your unpardonable curiosity unsatisfied. From the age of thirteen I made my home at Stone Gables, with my mother’s brother, Uncle Horace—he of the bilious rebellion against Bath’s waters—and Aunt Caroline.”

“Who must be his sister, then. She never married?”

“No. I cannot imagine why not, for she is pretty even now, and amiable, and imbued with all the domestic virtues, yet not at all stuffy. I’m very fond of Aunt Caroline. And before you ask—for I see the question hovering on your lips—my mother had one other sister, who is married. There are also a number of aunts and uncles on my father’s side of the family, and hordes of cousins.” He grimaced as if at an unpleasant memory. “Some of my relatives I’m happy not to see from one year’s end to the next. Now it’s your turn.”

“I have hordes of cousins, too, of varying degrees. In fact. Aunt Tibby is not really my aunt, and I couldn’t explain the precise relationship if I tried.” That had the merit of being true, if misleading. “I do have real aunts and uncles, all of whom wanted me to go and live with them when Papa died two years ago, as Nathan was already in America. I would not leave Langdale, though. There have been Franklins at Langdale for two centuries.” And that also was true but misleading, Jessica thought, since the Franklins had never actually owned a square inch of land. Enough of family histories! “Do you go to the concert at the Octagon Chapel tonight, sir?”

“If I may accompany you,” he said with flattering promptness, then a sombre shadow crossed his face. “Did you know that the programme has been changed? In celebration of the victory at Waterloo, they are to perform the ‘Te Deum’ and ‘Jubilate’ that Handel wrote for the Peace of Utrecht. A famous irony, is it not? A century has passed and yet again we have been fighting France.”

Jessica put her hand over his. “I shall understand if you decide not to go,” she said softly.

His hand turned under hers, clasped and pressed it, and he looked down at her with a crooked smile. “I’ll be there. Music is not to be blamed for man’s madness—unless it be the music of bagpipes.” He laughed, in real amusement with a bitter undertone. “Oh, that was a splendid charge the Highlanders made!”

The horses were growing restless. With casual expertise he turned the curricle and drove back down the hill.

Tad must have been watching for his mistress’s return, for hardly had the carriage stopped before Number 15 when he was racing out to hand Jessica down. She thanked him with a smile and turned back to Mr. Walsingham.

“You’ll want to send the papers to Lord Ilfracombe at once, will you not? Tad shall bring you my little contribution.”

“Thank you, Miss Franklin. You’re right, the sooner the better. I’ll see you this evening.” He saluted with his whip.

As she crossed the stone bridge over the area to the front door, Jessica heard no sound of hooves or wheels. Was he sitting there watching her? She willed herself not to look back, but in the end could not resist the temptation.

He was laughing at her again! She wrinkled her nose at him and stepped into the house.

“Jessica!” Nathan burst out of the drawing room, followed by Aunt Tibby. “How could you!”

“How could I what?” she asked blankly.

“Go off with him without even a groom for propriety! I met his Hanson on the way home.”

“Indeed, Jessica, it is not at all the thing to be jaunting about alone with a gentleman. We must hope that no one saw you, or I fear you will be called fast, which could ruin your prospects.”

Dismayed, Jessica sank onto the straight chair by the hall table. “Oh dear, I never even thought how it would look. You may not believe me, but it never crossed my mind. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve known Matthew...”

“Matthew!” Nathan exclaimed.

“...Mr. Walsingham forever. He did not attempt any familiarities, I promise you. I’m sure he would not dream of taking advantage of my indiscretion.”

“It must have been he who dismissed the groom,” her brother pointed out with inexorable logic.

“He did not do it from any dishonourable motive. He had just read a newspaper and his mind was on other matters,” Jessica defended him. Suddenly she wondered whether talking to Nathan about Waterloo might help Matthew, and whether learning of the dreadful slaughter from Matthew rather than a newspaper might be best for her brother. He did not appear to have heard the news. She knew that many of his fellow-soldiers from America had gone to Belgium on their return to Europe.

With renewed energy she jumped up and took from the hall table the roll of paper with her drawing of Lord Ilfracombe’s hunting box. “Be a dear and take this round to Mr. Walsingham,” she said, handing it to Nathan. “He’s waiting for it, and I believe he wants a word with you.”

Reduced at a stroke from stern head of the family to messenger, Nathan cast her a resentful glance but complied.

“All very well,” said Miss Tibbett, reverting to their original subject as the door closed behind him, “but Mr. Walsingham’s honour is not in question. It is your lack of discretion that will shock the tattlers.”

Jessica kissed her. “I’m sorry, Tibby dear, I shan’t do anything so shatterbrained again. We must just hope that no one noticed us.” She went slowly upstairs to take off her bonnet.

Mr. Walsingham’s honour was not in question. She trusted him. Today she had seen a deeply serious side to the amusing, frivolous gentleman, and respect had been added to her liking.

She stood by her chamber window, swinging her bonnet by the ribbons and gazing out unseeing at the Avon’s rushing waters. Was she falling in love? What incredible luck that so remarkably attractive a gentleman should be heir to the wealthy Viscount Stone of Stone Gables! Yes, she rather thought she was on the brink of falling in love, and she suspected that he was far from indifferent to her.

CHAPTER TEN

“Here’s your hot water, Miss Jessica.” Sukey flung back the curtains to reveal a cloudless sky.

Jessica yawned and stretched luxuriously. Memory flooded back. Last night Matthew had sat beside her at the concert and she had known him as moved as she was by Handel’s stirring music. And he had already engaged her for the first dance at the Lower Rooms to-night.

She became aware that the maid was standing with hands on hips, regarding her with an odd look. “Thank you, Sukey. It’s going to be a glorious day.”

“That’s as may be, miss, and I’m sure I’ll be downright sorry to spoil it for you, but there’s that you ought to know.”

Too happy to be alarmed, she smiled and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Our Tad were down to t’Pig and Whistle last night,” the maid said in an ominous voice.

“He’s entitled to his pint of ale, Sukey. Don’t tell me he overindulged in Blue Ruin.”

“Oh no, miss, he’s not one for tippling gin and he don’t like brandy above half, neither. It’s who he met’s t’trouble.”

“You are afraid he is getting into bad company?”

“Not
him.
He run across a groom from Stone Gables, come to Bath on an errand for his lordship. Seems as how the viscount’s got another nevvie staying wi’ him, a Mr. Archibald Biggin if Tad recalled t’name aright. And seems as how Lord Stone and Mr. Walsingham had a right set-to a fortnight since. And seems as how his lordship up and sent for his lawyer to change his will.”

Jessica sat bolt upright. “No! Really, Sukey, you should have more sense than to believe tavern gossip. I’m sure Tad completely misunderstood the case. I daresay he did have a glass too many of gin and he’s mixing up a story about someone quite different.”

“He didn’t act fuddled, miss, when he come home, and I’ve never knowed him go on the mop, nor Mrs. Ancaster hasn’t neither.”

“He has been spreading this wicked tale? I will not have it!”

“He wouldn’t tell no one outside t’house, nor wouldn’t any of us, Miss Jessica.” Sukey sounded injured.

“Nor will you tell Sir Nathan, I trust. He would be shocked to think his servants are no better than scandalmongers.”

“I just thought as you ought to know.”

“Well I don’t believe a word of it. I hope you have something better to do with your time than to stand there slandering your betters.”

The maid marched out, muttering audibly, “There’s none so blind as them that won’t see.”

Jessica sank back against her pillows. Matthew a fraud? It could not be true. Perhaps he had indeed quarrelled with his uncle—no doubt the viscount’s bilious attacks made him testy. An argument together with the visit of another nephew would be enough to start rumours of a changed will, particularly if the lawyer happened to visit at the same time. But the lawyer might have been called in for any number of reasons, and more than likely Mr. Archibald Biggin often stayed with his uncle.

Doubtless the groom had embellished the story to make himself interesting, and Tad had confused the details, and Sukey had misreported the whole business.

All the same, Jessica felt she had been unnecessarily harsh with the maid, who was only trying to aid her mistress. She would apologize and buy her some ribbons. She and Nathan were lucky to have such loyal servants, for without their backing this venture would have been impossible; lucky also that Langdale was too far off for casual rumour to give them away.