Regency Masquerade (7 page)

Mrs
Cobb marvelled here at the cold callousness of a man who could act so calmly
after such villainy.  As for describing him, he was dark, large of stature and
had evil looking eyes.  The landlady was so carried away with the excitement
and horror of the event that Frances did not think her identification could be
relied on.  She herself had no doubts that it had been the Comte Duverne,
waiting to revenge himself on Louis Caron.  Somehow John must have taken the
blow meant for her.  Eventually she persuaded Mrs Cobb to return to the kitchen
and went back to her room to try and think what to do.  Her first thought, to
call on the Bow Street Runners, was dismissed immediately.  She was in no
position to invite investigation, nor was there any proof that the attacker had
indeed been the Comte Duverne.

One
thing was certain, John would have to stay put at least for the next week.  She
was sure that she had been the intended victim and had no real fear that he
would attack her servant again.  Her next thought was to ask Carleton’s
advice.  She wondered a little at this for she was certainly well accustomed to
dealing with her own problems especially since her father had died, but the
idea persisted.  Perhaps he would know someone who could check on the Comte’s
movements without directly involving her.

Lord
Carleton meanwhile had been having his own problems.

He
had finally managed to invite Rosamond Lyle out for a drive in his phaeton, and
had been looking forward to it.  However once she was actually seated beside
him, he found she had little to say apart from commonplaces about the weather. 
She had no opinions about anything serious and when he did manage to engage her
in conversation it was about the ball she had last attended.  Eventually they
drew up outside her house and his groom hopped down to hold the horses’ heads
while he helped Rosamond to alight.  At the same time Jack Lambert strolled
around the corner on his way to call on Amanda and her cousin. 

“Hullo
there Richard, and Rosamond, how charming you look this afternoon, your eyes
put the sky to shame!”  Carleton started to laugh at his friend’s exuberance
but then he caught sight of Rosamond’s blushing face.  She was smiling down at
Jack, a different person entirely than the one he had been driving around for
the past hour.  He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.  So, sits the
wind in that quarter he thought wryly, he’d had no inkling.  Thank heavens he
had not gone so far as to make her an offer, what if she had felt compelled to
accept it?   He plastered a polite smile on his face, declined an offer to come
into the house to pay his respects to Aunt Louisa and said instead that he must
see his horses settled. 

When
Carleton heard his butler answer the door that evening, his first thought was
to deny his presence, he felt disinclined for company.  But when he heard it
was Peter Francis, curiosity changed his mind and asked the butler to show him
into the study.

“Good
evening Peter, what can I do for you? I assume this is not a social call?”

Frances
smiled briefly and admitted she had come for his advice.  “You said yesterday
that I could call on you, I hope you don’t mind.  When I returned to the inn
this evening I found my servant had been attacked, I think by the Comte
Duverne, though I have no proof.”

“Your
servant?” he queried sharply.

“Yes,
in mistake for myself I fancy.  The attacker appears to have been waiting in my
room and struck John on the head when he came in.”

Carleton
drew in his breath, disliking the thought that his friend had been in danger. 
“The Runners? No, perhaps not, as you say there is no evidence,” he paused,
frowning.

“I
wondered if you might be in a position to make enquiries about the Comte for
me?  But only if it’s no trouble,” he added hastily.

“Yes,
I could do that,” Carleton answered thoughtfully.  “I am going out of town tomorrow
for a short visit to my estate in Surrey, but I could arrange someone to
undertake a discreet investigation into the Comte for us while I am away.”

Frances
felt her heart drop at the news Carleton was going away.

Before
she could say anything, he continued, “As a matter of fact, I’ve had an idea. 
Would you like to come with me?  The Comte would not be able to bother you
there.  I have some business to attend to but I could offer you riding and some
shooting while we are there.  I intend to be at Chatswood but a week or two –
‘t would give my agent time to find out what the Comte is about.  What do you
say?  Can you arrange your affairs?”   He looked at her.

Frances
found herself seriously considering the idea, to be sure there would be risks
in staying with Carleton but they would involve her reputation not her life. 
She certainly did not what to remain a sitting target at the Pelican for the
Comte to waylay at his pleasure.

Taking
a deep breath, she nodded, “Thank you my lord, I accept with pleasure, if you
are certain it would not be an inconvenience.”

Carleton
smiled wryly, “It’s not all one sided I assure you, I shall be glad of your
company.  I leave tomorrow at ten – will that suit you?”

“I’ll
be here,” she promised, a little breathlessly.  She left shortly after to make
the necessary arrangements and found that her stomach was churning all the way
home with a mixture of fear and excitement.

She
made arrangements for John to stay on in his room at the Pelican but cancelled
her own as she needed to save the money.  Instead she left a small sum in the
care of Mrs Cobb to pay the nurse and for any medicines he might require.  She took
only two bags and packed both of them to take with her.  She wrote a careful
note of explanation to John and told the innkeepers she was going into the
country for a while to stay with a friend. Mrs Cobb looked rather taken aback
by this show of heartlessness but could hardly complain considering the
arrangements that had been made for Johns’ care.  “I suppose ‘tis more than
some gentlemen would do,” she admitted later to her spouse. “A real nurse to
look after him an’ all.”  Mr Cobb grunted.

Ten
o’clock the next morning found Frances loading her two bags into the coach
Carleton had hired to drive to Surrey.  His own four well-matched chestnuts
champed impatiently at the bit and his groom clung to the back.  As soon as
they left the crowded streets of London, Carleton set the horses along at a
brisk pace, eager to reach Chatswood by nightfall.  He handled the reins
expertly and Frances enjoyed watching him from her seat alongside.  At one
stage he offered her the reins but she declined, “I’ve never had much practice
my lord.  I’m not sure I could manage them and I am certain I could not keep up
this pace.”

“So
that is one thing I can beat you at, eh?” grinned Carleton.  Frances smiled,
unruffled, and enjoyed the clean fresh air, breathing deeply. “It is wonderful
to get out of London for a few days, everything is so green in England!”

They
stopped to change the horses and have a quick bite to eat at an inn, but were
soon their way again.

“Chatswood
is near a village called Selby,” explained Carleton as they drew nearer their
destination. “It has been in my family for about a hundred years, ‘tis a snug
property, not huge but big enough for my needs.  My nearest neighbour is Squire
Herbert and his wife.  They have a daughter still in the schoolroom and three
lads.  The youngest may be coming to Chatswood soon to learn the business
involved in running an estate with my agent.  He is interested in bookkeeping
rather to his father’s disgust.”  He looked at Frances for a minute.

“The
squire is a hunting man and cannot see how anyone could be interested in
anything else!  I shall have to call on him but there probably will not be time
for formal socialising.”

Frances
nodded, suddenly a little nervous.  Just what was she letting herself in for? 
“I should probably keep a low profile,” she offered tactfully.  Carleton could
scarcely wish to introduce a professional gamester to his neighbours.  London
was one thing, but the country was something else entirely.

The
sun had just set when they trotted through the gates of Chatswood.  The road
wound gradually through an avenue of oak trees until it opened suddenly to
reveal a circular driveway with a large stone house behind.  The building, Frances
discovered later was in the shape of an “E” with the middle stroke missing and
was several stories high.  Feeling rather overwhelmed, she got down and
followed Carleton up the steps to where an elderly man in black stood waiting
to receive him.

“Welcome
home my lord”

“How
are you Williams?” asked his lordship smiling.  “This is Mr Francis who will be
staying with me for a while.” He looked around. “Is Maddy about?”

The
butler was smiling too and answered, “Oh yes my lord, Mrs Madden will be down
in a minute.”

The
groom who had travelled with them organised the removal of the luggage from the
coach and then drove it round the back to the stables.  By this time they had
been ushered into the hall and a small, neatly dressed woman was almost running
down the stairs to greet Carleton.  He caught her hands in his and kissed her
cheek. “No need to ask how you are Maddy! As blooming as ever I see!”

She
smiled at him, “None of your sauce my lord,” but Frances could tell she was
flattered. He let her go and her eyes went to Peter standing behind him. 
“Peter, this is Mrs Madden, she used to be our governess and now she keeps the
house running for me.  Maddy, this is Peter Francis, he’ll be staying with
me.”  Mrs Madden looked rather closely at Frances, who held her gaze steadily
and bowed politely. 

She
looked suddenly worried, “My lord, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a
friend.  I’ve only had your room prepared.”

“Oh
dear,” exclaimed his lordship guiltily. “Well perhaps Peter could have a bed
made up in my room tonight.”

Before
Frances could open her mouth to protest, Mrs Madden said hastily and with
unexpected firmness, “Nonsense Mr Richard, that wouldn’t do at all.  There is
the room your cousin had last week on his way up to Yorkshire, that wouldn’t
take much to make presentable.”

“Alright
Maddy, except that Peter can have my room for tonight and I’ll have Theo’s. 
Then we won’t need to worry about anything until tomorrow.  I can tell Peter is
nearly asleep on his feet – up all night worrying were you?”

Frances
nodded and between conflicting desires not to make any trouble and to collapse
as soon as possible, was overrun by Lord Carleton’s hospitable instincts. 
Maddy bowed to the inevitable and disappeared to check on his Lordship’s dinner
and arrange for clean sheets and a warming pan for his bed.

“I’m
very sorry my lord,” apologised Frances, “All this fresh air must have gone to
my head.  I’m afraid I’m not very good company for you tonight.”

No
matter, I’ll show you to your room if you like and you can retire immediately.”

“Thank
you,” murmured Frances, stifling a yawn.

The
room Carleton had temporarily given up for her was rich and warm looking. 
Panelled wood covered the walls and a huge four poster bed stood in the centre
with crimson curtains drawn back.  Thick floral carpet covered the floor and a
large set of drawers opposite matched the cedar panelling.  A fire burned
cosily in the grate and the window revealed a darkening view of the drive and
oak plantations beyond.  Carleton drew the gold brocade curtains across the
window and went to the door.

“Sleep
well lad.  I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning?”

Peter
nodded and thanked his lordship again for the room.  Alone, Frances pulled off
her boots and breeches.  She took out a masculine looking nightshirt and
undressed beneath it on the off chance that a manservant might be sent to
assist her.  In fact, no sooner had she jumped into bed than someone knocked
softly on her door.  At her command of “Enter” a slight man in servants’ livery
stepped into the room.

“Lord
Carleton asked me to offer my services sir,” he said courteously. “I’m Fanshaw.”

“Thank
you Fanshaw.  If you would just see to my boots, that would be fine.”

“Very
good sir, and perhaps I may take the breeches?  I fancy I see a spot of mud on
them.”

“Oh.
Yes, thank you Fanshaw.”

Taking
the articles, the manservant bowed noiselessly out of the room.  “I’ll have to
be careful around Fanshaw,” thought Frances. “He’ll insist on helping me dress
in the morning I’ll wager.”  She snuggled down under the blankets and was soon
sound asleep.

Downstairs,
Lord Carleton finished his dinner in solitary state, Mrs Madden, as usual,
having refused to join him.  Alone, he found himself dwelling on Rosamond’s
duplicity.  Why had she led him on to think she would welcome his attentions if
she was in love with someone else?  He didn’t think now, that he had really
loved her but it had been close – he called for a second bottle of claret.  It
was a pity Peter had gone to bed, he could have talked him out of the black
mood that was pressing down on him.  He sat for a long time gazing into the
fire and drinking steadily.  Eventually he stood up rather carefully and made
his way up to bed.  The household had retired and quietness lay over everything
like a blanket, the light he carried throwing vast shadows over the walls.