Lady Ann's Excellent Adventure (A Regency Short Story)

Lady Ann's Excellent Adventure
A Regency Short Story 

by Candice Hern

Copyright 2012 by Candice Hern

This is a work of fiction. With the exception of real historical figures and events that may be mentioned, all names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover art: Detail of "Morning Walking Dress" from Ackermann's
Repository of Arts
, July 1813. Collection of the author

LADY ANN'S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE

London, August 1802

The Earl of Evesham grinned like a child with a new toy as he drove the elegant curricle down Park Lane. He'd just picked it up from the carriage maker and was more than pleased with its balance, buoyant spring, and smooth ride, not to mention the gleaming yellow-gold side panels and the tufted black leather seat.

The earl was not, in general, a man overly concerned with what was fashionable, but he felt singularly pleased to have so up-to-date a sporting vehicle. He understood now why the smaller two-wheeled curricle was starting to overtake the perch phaeton in popularity. It was light, nimble, and sleek as a jungle cat.

"It's a prime goer, my lord," Parker, his tiger, shouted from the rear seat. "A real downy ride."

The earl sprung the team down Park Lane as the traffic was light this early in the day, but slowed as he passed the Riding House at the edge of Hyde Park, and turned left onto Mount Street. It was a narrower street lined with rows of elegant houses, so he intended to take a more sedate pace. But an interesting sight caused him to rein in the horses.

A young woman sat perched in a tree on the other side of a large fenced garden. She appeared to be attempting to make her way over the fence, but her skirts had become caught in a branch. As she twisted and tugged in an effort to free them, she provided the earl with an excellent view of very trim ankles, set off to advantage with the criss-crossed blue ribbons of her slippers, and a bit of shapely leg.

What an intriguing situation this was, considering the owner of the garden was the man he was appointed to meet the next morning in order to make a formal offer for his daughter. It was a marriage arranged in his boyhood, and he hadn't set eyes on his future bride since she was a small girl. For a brief instant, he wondered if this pretty hoyden could be she? But it was highly unlikely that Lady Ann of Gloucester, daughter of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, and niece to the king, would be perched inelegantly up a tree.

He certainly hoped not, anyway, as he was committed to the marriage with her and had no wish to marry a girl who behaved with such impropriety. Lady Ann had only just returned from Vienna, where she had been living with her cousin Charlotte, Duchess of Württemberg. But as Charlotte's husband had recently begun to align himself with Bonaparte, both the king and his brother Gloucester thought it best to send for Lady Ann and remove her from imprudent political influences. They wished her to be safely married to a loyal Englishman with ties to the royal family, and so the long-ago arrangement between Gloucester and the Duke of Lancashire, the earl's father, was now to take place.

A young woman of royal blood, educated in Europe, steeped in protocol by high-stickler cousins at the courts of Denmark and Württemberg would never dream of getting herself up a tree. It must be some other female of the household. Perhaps even a servant, sneaking out to meet her young man.

The earl could not contain his curiosity, and drove the curricle to a stop beside the overhanging branches of the tree.

"May I be of assistance, Miss?"

"Oh."  The girl, who was quite pretty upon closer inspection, looked a bit flustered, glanced down at her exposed limb, then gave a resigned sigh. "There is nothing for it, is there?  I had thought I could jump, but this branch is much higher than I'd thought. And now my skirt is stuck and I am unable to move. I suppose I must beg your assistance if I am not to be found before – that is, if I am not to remain perched up here forever."

The earl was taken aback by her plain-spoken manner. Not at all the demeanor of a niece of the king, nor of a young lady meant to be his future bride. He could not deny, though, that there was something rather charming about her. Who was she?  He smiled up at her. "I am persuaded someone would eventually come along to help, if you would prefer to wait. The view of the park from up there must be enchanting."

"I do not wish to view the park from up here. I wish to see it from the ground, if you please. There is something I am most particularly anxious to see there."

"Indeed? Then I wonder why you did not simply walk through the front door of the house, or through the stableyard." He narrowed his eyes in mock apprehension. "In fact, now that I think on it, I wonder if I should not call the watch. How do I know you are not a thief escaping with the Gloucester House silver tucked in your pockets?  Why else would you be attempting to climb over the garden fence like a common housebreaker?"

Her face paled slightly. "You know this house? And the family?" 

A note of fear colored her voice. Had his arrow accidentally hit its mark? 
Was
she a thief? Or was she in fact a family member – or perhaps a high-ranking servant – worried that she might be found out and reported?

"Everyone in London knows Gloucester House," he said, "home to Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester. Do you not even know from whom you have pinched the family silver?"

"I assure you, I am no thief."  She uttered an exasperated little snort, as though such an idea was preposterous. "If you must know, I am escaping."

"From what?"

She lifted her chin at a defiant angle. "That is my affair."

"Hmm. I think if I am to be an accomplice I will need to know what I am getting myself into." He signaled for Parker to see to the horses, leapt down from the seat, and then leaned nonchalantly against the curricle as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to be having a conversation with a pretty girl stuck up a tree. He'd discarded the notion that she was a housemaid sneaking out for an assignation. Her clothes were very fine – a white muslin gown with a blue velvet spencer jacket and matching hat – but maids were often given last year's fashions by their mistresses, so the quality of her dress was no accurate clue to her identity. But her exposed stocking was clocked in fine gold embroidery, much too exquisite for any maid.

She must be a member of the family. But not Lady Ann. Not a girl raised in the highest royal circles. She did, though, have the same honey blond hair and blue eyes he remembered from the last time he'd seen Ann as a child, but any family member could have that same coloring. He could not, however, imagine why a young woman of high rank had climbed a tree in order to get over the garden fence. Gloucester would never countenance such behavior in his household.

So who was she, this adorable sprite? Surely, not Lady Ann.

"I do believe, Miss Damsel-in-Distress, that if I am to be your rescuer, I must know from what I am rescuing you. What are you escaping from?"

"Oh!"  She frowned and gave a frustrated tug on her skirt. "From my life, if you must know."

His spine stiffened. If this was indeed his future wife, and heaven help her if she was, he would have to take her well in hand. "You are running away?"

"Only for today."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Today is my last day of freedom. After tomorrow, I will never have a chance to escape again."

Considering what he knew was to happen tomorrow, this did not bode well.

"Escape to what?"

"To adventure. To fun. To spontaneity."

He probed further. "And what happens tomorrow to make all that no longer possible?"

"My life will change forever." She heaved a sigh worthy of Mrs. Siddons. "And I must sacrifice myself on the altar of duty."

Dear God, it
was
Lady Ann. Had to be. And she saw
him
as an unwelcome duty? He supposed he could hardly blame her for thinking so, as he had harbored similar thoughts of her. He had not been looking forward to the Grand Marriage to a prim, tight-laced young woman trained to be the perfect aristocratic consort. In fact, he was prepared to accept her as the typical royal cold fish, but he'd never been thrilled about it. In his relationships with women, he'd always preferred a more lively girl, but never dreamed of marrying one. He had been destined for a marriage of duty. And yet, this was not the reserved, formal, very proper young woman he'd expected. He was not sure what to think about that, but he suspected it could be a troublesome match.

"I see," he said "Today is your last day without duty."

"Oh, I am obliged by duty every day of my life. But sometimes, I like to run away from it, just for a few hours."

Did she?  How very intriguing. "Sometimes? This is not your first attempt to escape?"

"Oh, no. But never in London. I wish to have one last small adventure in London before … before tomorrow."

"And then you'll be a dutiful girl forever after?"

"Yes."

So simple a declaration. And he believed she meant it. But could tree-climbing girl who liked to run away ever be truly dutiful? He could not imagine what sort of wife she'd make.

She gazed down at him, her blue eyes assessing him, watchful, impatient. "So, will you be so good as to help me down, sir?"

"On one condition."

"Oh? What condition?"

"That you allow me to escort you on your adventure." If he went along with her, watched her public behavior, he'd be better able to judge her suitability as the next Countess of Evesham. And if she turned out to be entirely unruly, he would simply tell her father that she was not fit to be his bride. "A respectable, dutiful young woman like you, unfamiliar with London, ought not to be wandering about alone. It is not safe. You would be accosted at every turn. I don't suppose your maid is hiding in that tree with you?"

She laughed. "No, sir. I am quite alone up here."

"Then will you agree to my escort?"

"How do I know I will not be accosted by
you
? How do I know that you are not a scoundrel?"

He placed a hand over his heart. "I give you my word as a gentleman that you will be safe in my company."

"Well … I suppose I will have to trust you. But I should tell you that if any harm does come to me, there are very important people who will hunt you down."

"You terrify me, Miss. But I shall be exceedingly cautious, I promise you."

"All right, then. You may accompany me. Now, if you please …"

The earl studied the situation, and finally determined the best course was to climb up into the tree himself. No easy task, that. It had been a long time since he'd climbed a tree. He first hauled himself onto the top of the iron fence, then grabbed a low-hanging branch and began to climb. It was not the most graceful performance of his life, but he was soon able to reach the offending branch that had caught her skirt. With one last quick glance at
her
shapely limb, he released the muslin.

She grabbed it quickly and covered her leg. "Well done, sir. Not even the tiniest rip or tear. I am fond of this dress, so you have my thanks. Now, what?"

He directed her movements along a sturdy branch that hung well over the fence. When he was satisfied that she was secure, he leapt back down to the pavement and reached up. "Are you prepared to jump?"

"Are you prepared to catch me?"

"Of course. I promise not to drop you. Come on. Jump."

His future bride was no timid miss. Without hesitation, she jumped down, grabbing onto his shoulders while he caught her up around the waist. She was a tiny thing, but with rather lush curves in all the right places. Of course, he should not be having such thoughts about his future countess. Then again, a soft, warm young wife was not such a bad thing. With some reluctance, he set her feet on the ground and released her. "You are unharmed?"

"Yes, sir, I am fine. Thank you very much indeed."

"It was my pleasure, Miss … Miss?  We have not been properly introduced. As your rescuer, may I have the honor of knowing your name?" He was curious if she would reveal her true identity. He thought not. So, who would she claim to be?

"I am Ann –" She stopped abruptly, as though realizing she might not want to give herself away. "Annie. You may call me Annie."

Ah. If there had been any lingering doubts, they had just been eliminated. She was indeed his future bride. "Just Annie?"

"Yes. Just Annie."

"So we are to be on a Christian name basis? I am honored."  He swept her a bow.

"What shall I call you?"

A good question. Evesham was as reluctant as she to betray his identity. If she knew that he was the duty to which she was prepared to sacrifice herself, he doubted she would ever be so delightfully forthcoming. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he had to admit she was quite a charming surprise, but he still could not decide if she was a pleasant surprise, or a terrifying one. He'd made so many assumptions about her for so long, he wanted to take this unexpected opportunity to learn more about Annie before he met her tomorrow as Lady Ann.

Fortunately, the side panels of his curricle had not yet been painted with his arms, so the vehicle, at least, was quite anonymous. So, who should he be?  Not Evesham, which is what most people called him. His full handle was Edward William Henry Tavenor. His mother and sisters still called him Edward, but Lady Ann might remember that. Perhaps one of his second names would do. "Since we are being quite informal, you may call me William. Or Will."

"Will. It suits you."

"Does it?  How interesting. Now, what is it you wished to see in Hyde Park?"

"Oh! There is a balloon ascension, I am told. I tried to see the balloon from … well, from the house, but could not see beyond the trees. Perhaps it had not yet been inflated"