Fenella Miller (7 page)

Marianne and Emily hurried to their mounts and were thrown up by the waiting grooms. Emily’s pretty bay mare arched her neck and pricked her ears, eager to be away. Sultan, still being unavailable, Marianne found herself this time on the bay Billy had ridden from Upton Manor. She had ridden him once before and knew him to be lively.

The cavalcade trotted down the drive, Sir Theodore leading the way, sensibly keeping to the grass verge and avoiding the many potholes. Marianne dropped back, allowing Emily to ride behind her guardian. She indicated that John should come beside her.

‘John, this is an unmitigated disaster. How dare Lady Arabella involve us in her disobedience?’

‘Too late to repine, miss, there’s little we can do apart from pray Lord and Lady Hawksmith do not get to hear of it.’

‘It’s not them I am concerned about. I think I may have underestimated Sir Theodore. Did you not detect his displeasure at being obliged to escort this circus?’

John frowned and then his face creased and he nodded towards the tall man conversing with Miss Grierson. ‘Not him, miss. He is more concerned with a cut of his coat than anything else. Look at him doing the pretty—does he look perturbed?’

Marianne was obliged to admit that he did not. ‘I hope you are correct. I have no wish to fallout with my guardian. This would be laid at my door, you can be sure of that.’

The short distance along leafy lanes to Great Bentley was soon accomplished and she recognized, as soon as they arrived, the smart barouche pulled up in the cobbled yard of The Lion.

Emily nudged her mare forward. ‘I do hope we have not kept you waiting, Arabella. See, I have brought Peggy for you. She is prettily behaved and will be ideal.’

Her ladyship stepped down from the carriage and Marianne’s mouth dropped open. The abundance of gold frogging on Lady Arabella’s habit caught the sun almost blinding her. Even Emily was speechless.

‘You have a new habit, Arabella. Red and gold—so very bright,’ she finished lamely. Even her partiality could find nothing favourable to say. Marianne ducked her head, hiding her amusement.

What was obvious, even to a casual observer, was that Arabella had dressed to impress. The person all this splendour was directed at was already on the ground and—surely not—yes, he was actually kissing the wretched girl’s gloved hand.

Marianne’s good-humour evaporated. How could he be so gullible? He was taken in by a pair of flashing green eyes and fluttering black lashes. She watched, lips compressed, as Lady Arabella fussed and flirted her way to the docile mare. Sir Theodore tossed her into the saddle and began to adjust the single leather and tighten Peggy’s girth.

Disgusted to see him making a cake of himself, Marianne shortened her reins and dug in her heel. She would wait on the Green for them. But her mount leapt forward, startled, and taking hold of his bit, bolted across the grass. Marianne was too occupied to notice the chaos her sudden departure had caused.

An excellent horsewoman, she was in no danger of a tumble and sat deep into the saddle, pulled hard, first on one rein, then the other, hoping to dislodge the bit from between the teeth of the bay gelding. This failing she grabbed the nearside rein, releasing the offside, and applied double weight to her pull, gradually forcing the horse’s nose around and obliging him to shorten his stride.

No longer able to gallop, held in a tight circle as he was, he gradually slowed his pace, and she was once more in control. Breathless, but exhilarated, Marianne leant down and patted his sweaty neck. ‘Stupid animal! I forgot you were so sensitive, I should not have kicked so hard.’

She turned to face the inn and only then realized how far she had come in her mad gallop. Her stomach lurched. She must return at once. Emily would be beside herself with worry no doubt believing she had met with a fatal accident.

She pushed the bay into a canter and headed back expecting at any moment to meet John, or Sir Theodore, racing out to meet her. Puzzled by their continued absence she urged the horse into a second gallop. Where was John? Why had he not come after them?

She prayed something catastrophic had not occurred. She should have been more gentle and then her mount would not have taken fright. Arriving at the inn she reined in sharply, knowing at once something dreadful had happened in her short absence.

Her guardian was on the ground beside the apparently unconscious form of Arabella. Emily hovered close by crying and wringing her hands. Of John and the other Frating Hall groom, Sam, there was no sign.

A terrified ostler was holding a plunging Lucifer whilst another held the reins of the other three horses. Lady Arabella’s carriage had been circled and was waiting for Sir Theodore to pick up the injured girl and place her inside. Small wonder no one had bothered to follow her. She vaulted from the saddle and, slipping the reins of the gelding over his head, led him up to Emily.

‘Emily, tell me, what has taken place here? How does Lady Arabella come to be injured?’

‘When you galloped off like that, it startled all our horses. Even Peggy shied and poor Arabella fell. I fear she is badly hurt. She is lying so terribly still.’

‘Where is Sir Theodore taking her? Surely not all the way back to Bromley Hall?’

‘He has sent John to alert his staff and Sam has gone to fetch the doctor. We are going to Bentley Hall, did you not realize it’s but a few minutes from here.’

Marianne watched, aghast, as Sir Theodore lifted Arabella easily and stepped into the carriage. Emily jumped forward and closed the door and the carriage moved off. When she intercepted his freezing stare, it sent a frisson of fear down her spine. This was not the look of a fop, overcome by the disaster, but a hard, calculating glare that summed her up and found her wanting.

How could she ever have thought him feebleminded? For some reason, only he knew why, he was a dissembler. Why he should wish to be seen as a man with no direction and little intelligence she had no idea, but she intended to find out.

But first she must endure the agony of waiting to discover if her lack of thought had seriously hurt Arabella. She did not care much for the young lady but had never wished her to be harmed. The clatter of hooves heralded John’s reappearance. Having completed the task for Sir Theodore he had returned to discover the whereabouts of his own charge.

‘Thank the Lord! You’re safe, Miss Devenish. I had no time to chase after you. Sir Theodore was insistent I went to Bentley Hall first.’ He slid out of the saddle and threw his reins to Marianne to hold whilst he assisted Emily to mount. Then he issued orders to the ostler. ‘Stable my mount, I’ll ride the stallion.’ The young man was delighted to hand over his charge having been lifted clear of his feet several times by the animal’s antics.

‘Stand, damn you, standstill.’ Lucifer recognizing the voice of authority ceased his plunging and stood politely as John sprung into the saddle. The ostler ran forward and took the horse from Marianne and finally all was calm and organized again.

John called out. ‘I will lead; don’t come too close to this beast. I don’t trust him not to lash out.’ Allowing John to ride a safe distance ahead, Marianne and Emily followed. Emily sniffed loudly.

‘Marianne, I am so worried about Arabella. Peggy did not rear, she just shied a little and Arabella tumbled gently to the cobbles. But I fear she must have been kicked in the head, or struck it as she landed, for her eyes have not opened since the accident.’

‘It was a soft fall?’

‘Yes, indeed it was. I expected her to scramble up and laugh it off. It was a great shock that she lay so still.’

Marianne felt a flood of fury replace her fear. The scheming minx had used the opportunity to her advantage. Arabella was unhurt, she was certain of it, and was shamming in order to gain Sir Theodore’s attention. She ground her teeth in frustration. Arabella had decided to set her cap at her guardian—there could be no other explanation. But why? Surely she held a tendre already for Charles? Perhaps Emily could explain.

‘Emily, I am sure Lady Arabella is not seriously hurt. It is more than possible she is merely in a swoon from which she will be fully covered by the time we arrive.’

‘I do hope so, Marianne. I cannot bear to think of dearest Arabella injured.’

‘Tell me, Emily, why has Lady Arabella not had a season? The Hawksmiths are wealthy are they not? Surely they would wish to puff her off at Almack’s, find her a suitable husband.’

‘Arabella is their only child and very dear to them. I don’t believe they wish her to be married at the moment, but remain at home with them.’

Marianne nodded, her expression stern, and unfortunately spoke her thoughts aloud. ‘So she is taking matters into her own hands and is trying to ensnare Sir Theodore.’ Emily’s shocked gasp indicated how unwise these words had been.

‘Oh Marianne, how could you say such a horrid thing? Arabella is so grievously hurt.’ She urged her mount into a trot and left Marianne to complete the journey down the long drive, alone, feeling decidedly ashamed of herself.

The barouche was standing empty. The house, having been built recently, was in perfect proportion. The hundreds of rectangular windows were equally balanced on either side of the marble steps. The double doors, flanked by matching marble pillars, stood open; there was nobody there to welcome her. Perhaps the lack of ceremony was intentional.

Two grooms appeared from the rear of the building to receive their horses. So they were expected after all. John rode on, following the carriage-wide sweep of gravel, to the stables behind the house. Emily dismounted, unassisted, and ran up the steps, pointedly leaving Marianne to ascend on her own.

A familiar footman belatedly appeared at the door. ‘Miss Devenish, Sir Theodore has requested that you wait in the library. He will join you there presently.’

She swallowed and her throat constricted. ‘Thank you. How is Lady Arabella? Has she recovered her senses yet?’

The footman smiled. ‘Yes, indeed. It is nothing short of a miracle. No sooner was she placed on the bed than she regained her wits. Miss Grierson is with her now.’

‘That is good news indeed.’ She needed no instructions to find the library. If Lady Arabella was well, why was her guardian still upstairs? Well, the longer he stayed away from her the better. She was dreading the forthcoming encounter. Yesterday she would have waited with no qualms, believing him to be weak minded and easily bamboozled but his glare had given her fair warning. She knew him to be a formidable opponent—not a man to be trifled with.

* * * *

She paced the spacious book lined room with growing agitation. Why was he taking so long? Was he deliberately leaving her here to fret as part of her punishment? Then she remembered Sam had been sent for the doctor. With a sigh of relief, she sunk into a leather covered armchair. Of course—that was the explanation. Sir Theodore was waiting, as was only proper, to greet the doctor. He could not come to speak to her until then. Therefore it might be some time before he joined her, time enough to select a book and read for a while. This would take her mind of things.

She got up and wandered along the shelves looking high and low for a title to interest her. She saw, on the uppermost shelf, an illustrated history on the flora and fauna of Essex. From this she could discover a little more about the landscape she was living in.

However the book was too high to reach even on tiptoe. She looked around for library steps, or even a stool, to stand on. Seeing nothing she decided to climb up using the shelves as a ladder. If she held up her skirt in one hand it would make the task impossible; she would have to pray she did not become entangled as she ascended.

She judged the distance—not so very high—no more than two shelves above her outstretched hand. What she had to do was slide one boot into the corner of the second shelf and then the other onto the third. If she was careful, she could, by balancing on the upper shelf, reach out and take the book she sought.

In her desire to reach her objective, she had quite forgotten the reason she was in the library.

She did not here the heavy footsteps approaching down the corridor or the door open behind her.

‘Good God! What the devil are you doing up there?’

Inevitably she lost her grip and fell backwards. Her guardian, leaping forward too late, was only able to cushion her descent with himself. They ended in a tangle of arms and legs on the Persian carpet. Not waiting to be told, she rolled sideways, and scrambled, unaided and unhurt, to her feet, leaving her would-be rescuer spread-eagled in front of her.

She did not like the look on his face. In fact she thought that it would be wise to remain out of his arm’s reach. His expression murderous, he surged up and before she could make good her escape his bulk blocked her path.

‘Going so soon, Miss Devenish? I believe I have a few things to say to you before you depart.’ The words were innocuous but the steely glint in his eyes warned her not to argue. She backed away until she felt the welcome bulk of the armchair at her calves. Quickly she dodged behind it, and waited for the storm to break.

The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing as he fought to control his rage. The minutes dragged past and Marianne felt a wave of nausea surge up. Desperately she searched for somewhere to cast up her accounts—if she vomited all over his boots she would never recover from the humiliation. She spotted a bronze urn and snatched it up.

‘Good God! Not in there—it has a hole in the base. Hold on. I will open the window.’

She felt a welcome draft of cool air as her head was unceremoniously shoved over the window ledge. Mercifully in time, as she lost the contents of her stomach harmlessly over the flowerbed that ran down the side of the house.

‘Good girl. Are you finished?’ She nodded, unable to speak, and he lifted her in and carried her to the armchair. ‘Sit there a moment and recover. Here, wipe your face on this.’

A spotless handkerchief was thrust into her hand and she did as he instructed. She felt too weak to protest. She closed eyes and in the distance she could hear him speaking to someone.