Sally James (13 page)

“No, with Paul Ward. But Ingram has gone too, and I cannot understand how Matthew can bear to be with him after the way he has treated me! Matthew talked with him last night, and afterwards seemed of the opinion that he was not so evil as he had thought before! I know Ingram will bamboozle Matthew into liking him, as he did Godfrey, and Matthew
knows
what he is trying to do to me. I am so afraid that he will try to remove Matthew like he did Godfrey. He made friends with Godfrey and took him to all sorts of disreputable places before he killed him!”

“While I would have no desire to attend a boxing contest, it is not considered disreputable for gentlemen to go there,” Mary said judiciously.

“Ingram is supposed to be an excellent boxer himself. He goes to some odious place in Jermyn Street,” Teresa commented.

She then went off to join her mother and Mary reflected it was largely jealousy that Matthew should seek other company which had put Teresa so out of temper.

This mood persisted for the next few days, and whenever Mary saw Teresa it was to receive a stream of complaints about how Matthew was neglecting her. Mary began to wonder whether he was growing tired of Teresa, but he was as vehement as ever when next she met him about his intention to marry her. He was less open about his feelings towards Sir Ingram, maintaining stoutly that he had accepted invitations from Paul, and it was sheer chance Sir Ingram had also been on the various expeditions. Apart from the visit to the boxing contest, it appeared that Matthew had also been introduced to the niceties of cock fighting.

“That is all he tells me of,” Teresa said bitterly. “I would not be surprised if Ingram were taking him to even worse places than that. I suspect that Ingram’s latest
chère amie
is not very far away!” she added darkly.

“He surely would not take Matthew into such company!” Mary protested, her heart giving an uncomfortable lurch.

“Why not?” Teresa asked coolly. “He would think any means of detaching Matthew from me acceptable. But he shall not win! I am determined he shall not! Do not be concerned, Mary, for your brother. I will not permit Ingram to lead him into such ways!”

Privately Mary did not think Teresa would have much success in prising Matthew away from his new entertainments, and she discounted the more lurid of Teresa’s suspicions. The next time she saw Matthew he seemed content, and told her enthusiastically about his new activities.

“I won a hundred pounds last night at cards,” he informed her cheerfully.

She looked at him quickly. “Gambling now?”

“What do you mean by ‘now’?” he asked, bridling slightly.

“I was concerned you might stake more than you could afford, that is all.”

“I have more wit than that,” she was told loftily. “Now I have some of the ready, and I’m willing to admit that I was almost cleaned out, I shall not play again. I need it for the next few weeks, and cannot afford to stake it again and lose it.”

Mary trusted he would hold to this resolution, but she knew it was fatally easy for young men to imagine that they might win again, and be tempted to sit down at the card tables. She considered approaching Sir Ingram and pleading with him not to encourage her brother in these pursuits, but the thought of how he would look at her, amused and slightly mocking, prevented her from making the attempt. When she chided herself with cowardice she quickly made the excuse it would most likely have had an adverse effect in that Sir Ingram would have taken a perverse delight in tempting Matthew just to annoy her.

Yet when next she saw him she was ashamed of her suspicions, for he was exceedingly considerate. It was at a dinner party given by the Wards, and as the chairs Mary and Caroline had hired to take them to the Royal Crescent came to a stop about half way along this magnificent terrace, Sir Ingram had appeared to hand Mary out. He had been most attentive, and even though at dinner he had been seated between her and Belinda, he did not neglect her, but divided his time scrupulously between them.

He mentioned that Matthew had been with them on several occasions.

“It gives him something to think about other than Teresa, and she can be most wearing, as I know only too well,” he laughed.

“She was very frightened by what happened,” Mary excused Teresa.

“Undoubtedly. Miss Wyndham, I am convinced you do not believe the accusations she has made about me?”

Faced with this bald statement, Mary blushed, and shook her head.

“Of course I do not,” she said quietly.

“I had heard of your defence of me, and your explanation that it was all Teresa’s imagination. Do you truly believe it?”

“I cannot - how could it be anything else?” Mary asked.

He smiled, grimly. “How, indeed. But enough of that, for I have a favour to beg of you. I am leaving Bath for two or three days, and I ask you, in so far as it lies within your powers, to ensure that my foolish cousin does nothing disastrous while I am away.”

Startled, Mary glanced up at him. “I do not see how I can,” she murmured, “but naturally if it were possible, I would attempt to restrain her.”

“She does value your opinion,” he said quietly, “and you see quite a deal of her.”

After a few more remarks, he turned to Belinda, and Mary’s attention was claimed by her other neighbour. When they had left the table, she had no more private speech with Sir Ingram, but found herself wondering what could be taking him away from Bath.

At some time during the evening the suggestion was put forward that an expedition be made into the Cotswold hills to the north of the town two days later, and an al fresco meal be taken. The idea was popular, and soon there were a dozen people included, and several more, like Mrs Standish, who wished to drive instead of ride. Arrangements were made for the food to be taken in the carriages, and everyone to meet at one of the villages six or seven miles from the town. The party finished with everyone in high good humour, concerned only that the good weather should hold for the next few days.

The day was fine, and the party was augmented by several people brought along by friends. They set off to climb Lansdown Hill, and more than twenty riders were stretched out along the road. At the top they gave their horses free rein for a while until they had galloped the freshness out of them.

After that they proceeded in a more sedate fashion, reaching the village long before those coming in the carriages. Stabling their horses at the inn they wandered off in small groups to explore the village. Seeing that Teresa was with a group of girls, and Matthew with Jonathan Wright, Mary did not consider it necessary to force her presence on either of them, so she and Caroline strolled into the church to escape from the heat of the sun.

The meal, eaten under the shade of some old oaks on the edge of the village green, was a hilarious affair, and they all vowed that the event should be repeated. Towards the end of the meal, when they were reluctantly thinking of returning to Bath, Mary noticed that Teresa was unduly silent. When they were busy packing the hampers Mary quietly asked if she felt unwell.

“I have a headache,” she admitted, “but also I am excessively angry!”

“Oh? What has occurred now?”

“Ingram!” Teresa snorted. “Before he went away yesterday, he sought me out and threatened me that if I caused any more talk he would send me to Leigh Park and forbid Matthew to come near me!”

“Gracious, what occasioned this?” Mary asked, surprised. “What talk has there been?”

“None, that is the unfair part! It was just,” and she had the grace to blush slightly, “that the day previous, Matthew had come to see me, and we were alone in the small parlour. He was so angry when he found us there, and so unreasonable, for we were doing no wrong!”

“I suppose he was worried what would be said if anyone else had learned of it,” Mary commented.

“Oh, you will disapprove too!” Teresa said pettishly. “I think I will return in the curricle with mama.”

She moved away and spoke briefly to Matthew, and he approached Mary as the riders were preparing to move off.

“I will return with Teresa, and lead her horse while she rides in her mama’s curricle,” he explained, and then, nodding briefly at Mary, went across to where Teresa sat on the ground with her mother.

Tired after their exertions, Mary and Caroline were dining at home quietly when Susan brought in a note.

“The man has just arrived, and says he will wait for an answer, if you please, Miss,” she said, handing the note to Mary.

With a brief apology to Caroline Mary unfolded the screw of paper and read the few words it contained.

“I will call you when I have the reply ready,” she said, dismissing Susan, and when the girl had left the room turned angrily to Caroline.

“They appear to have given us the slip!” she exclaimed.

“Who? What is it?”

“A note from Mrs Standish to ask whether Teresa is still with us. It seems that she did not drive home with her mama after all. She and Matthew must have planned it so that they could steal a few hours together. The fools! This will not endear them to Sir Ingram if he hears of it, especially after what he said!”

“Could they have eloped again?” Caroline asked worriedly.

“They have nowhere to go, and I cannot think it of them! No doubt they have been so engrossed in one another that they have forgot the time. I had best go round to Great Pulteney Street and tell them what I know. I cannot do so in a note.”

“Shall I come too?” Caroline offered, but Mary saw that she was looking tired, and had a crease between her eyes.

“No, you have a headache, I fear.”

“Only a slight one, nothing like the ones I used to get, I assure you,” Caroline protested.

“You could do no more than I, and so it would be wiser for you to go to bed.”

So saying she went to fetch a shawl, and joined the man who had brought the note, one of Mrs Leigh’s footmen.

“I must come and see Mrs Standish,” she told him. “Can you obtain a chair for me?”

He was soon back with one, and Mary was carried swiftly through the town and across the bridge, to be greeted by a distraught Mrs Standish as she entered the house in Great Pulteney Street.

“Oh, my dear, she is not with you?” she asked, clutching at Mary’s arm.

Mary was surprised at her anxiety, for she did not normally fret over Teresa’s starts.

“She told me that she was planning to drive back with you, Ma’am,” she explained.

“Oh, the wicked one! She did stay a little behind the others, for she had been telling me some story about one of her friends, but then she and your brother set off after you, not more than a couple of hundred yards behind. They must have slipped off when they were out of our sight.

“Easily done, for there were a good many trees to provide cover,” Mary said ruefully. “I should have stayed with her, or spoken to you about her plans, but when I saw her remain with you when we set off I thought no more about her.”

“She deceived us both,” Mrs Standish lamented.

“And you both ought to know Teresa well enough by now not to be taken in by her tricks,” a new voice contributed, and with a start Mary looked up to find Sir Ingram surveying them sardonically from the top of the stairs.

“Do pray come up to the drawing room, Miss Wyndham,” he went on smoothly, before she was able to recover from the shock of seeing him. “I cannot imagine why my dear aunt keeps you standing in the hall.”

“I am too distraught to know what I am doing,” that lady exclaimed, nevertheless taking Mary’s arm and urging her up the stairs and towards the door Sir Ingram held open for them.

“Have they eloped yet again?” Sir Ingram asked Mary, and she flushed angrily at his tone.

“I cannot think it, for they have nowhere to go,” she retorted. “I have no doubt that they have simply forgot the time.”

“I have not your delightfully innocent trust in people,” he commented lazily.

Stung into a retort, she faced him angrily. “Teresa is displaying greater constancy than you predicted! They seem very much in love, and it is natural for them, fearing to be forcibly separated at any moment, to endeavour to spend all the time they can together!”

“You would defend them? And what makes you think there will be any forcible separation? You imply, I take it, that I shall be the instrument of such a separation?”

“Is that not what you intend if there is no natural ending to the affair?” she demanded hotly. “Is not this threat to send her away an excuse for this? If they show that they are determined to be faithful to one another, can you truthfully say you would approve? Matthew is poor, I will admit, by your standards, but you have always considered him beneath Teresa and spurned him as a possible husband for her!”

“Not for what you assume to be my reasons,” he replied mildly. “Teresa will not be happy if she has a husband who cannot control her, and neither, believe me, would that husband! Could you wish such a fate on your brother?”

Mary was silent, knowing that what he said was probably true, but unwilling to admit her brother would be unable to manage Teresa if they were married.

“Oh, do stop this useless argument!” Mrs Standish cried. “Where is my Teresa? For all you care, Ingram, she might be lying dead somewhere, attacked again as she has been so many times! Why am I alone when it happens? Aunt Hermione is out, even Rodney is not to be found!”

“Where is he?” Sir Ingram enquired.

“Oh, at some card party, but what does it matter?
You
are here now. Why do you not organise a search party? You must do something!”

“Would you have me advertise to the whole town that she is missing in the company of Mr Wyndham?” he asked coldly, and Mrs Standish, after staring helplessly at him for a moment, burst into hysterical tears.

“What shall I do?” she moaned in between her gasping sobs.

“I would suggest that you go to bed,” he advised sharply. “If she has not come in soon I will myself ride out to make enquiries. Aunt Hermione should be back from her dinner party soon, and then I will leave you in her charge.”

Mrs Standish began to urge that he started at once, when the door opened and the culprits walked into the room.