Chapter Fourteen

 

 

 

The next morning dawned fine. Sophie left the house by the kitchen door, hurried round to the mews and sat on the floor of the barouche while it was driven round to the front door. Emma got in, attempting to look as though she was not arranging her skirts over a young lady huddled on the floor. Once they were safely clear of the city the driver pulled in at the side of the road while Sophie got up, shook out the creases and took her seat next to Emma. As a result the party that continued through the countryside to the village of Heslington appeared both respectable and ordinary with the roof of the barouche down and the two gentlemen riding in escort to the well-dressed ladies within.

Lady John said very little, but Sophie noticed her fingers gripping her reticule tightly. The brothers looked serious and there was no conversation between them. Sophie adjusted the veil of the bonnet that Lady John had lent her. The veiling had seemed somewhat excessive for a morning call but Emma presumably did not wish Sophie’s presence advertised in the neighbourhood until she returned, apparently accompanying Elizabeth. And Sophie, even though she felt quite ready to resent her hostess’s every suggestion, was too sensible to disagree.

The house in Heslington was a charming small property of the previous century, although the grounds had a faint air of neglect. The bell was answered at length by a very elderly retainer in an old-fashioned livery, who blinked his amazement at being asked if his mistress was At Home.

‘I am sorry. Your Grace,’ he said, after a startled look at the card in his hand, ‘but Miss Fanshaw no longer receives visitors.’

‘In that case,’ Hal asked casually, ‘I assume Mr Justin Fanshaw is receiving?’

If the butler was surprised that this stranger knew that Justin Fanshaw was in the house, he did not show it. ‘Mr Justin is in the book room, Your Grace,’ he quavered, turning unsteadily to let them in. ‘If you and your party would care to wait in the drawing room, I will just – ’

‘No need,’ Hal said breezily, striding past him into the musty gloom of the hall. ‘Mr Fanshaw and I do not stand on ceremony. Through here, is it?’

Sophie caught the hint of steel in Hal’s voice. Oh my God, she thought, hurrying after him, he really is going to harm Justin.

Hal made his way down the hall, glancing in rooms as he passed until he reached a closed panelled door at the back of the house. Without knocking he threw it open and stood on the threshold. Sophie, hot on his heels, almost crashed into him, and stood, hopping from one foot to another with impatience, unable to see around his broad shoulders.

There was a long silence, a silence one could have cut with a knife, then Hal drawled, ‘Writing letters, Fanshaw?’

There was a choking gasp and the sound of a chair overturning on the boards as Hal strolled into the room, Sophie on his heels. Behind her she heard Lord and Lady John following.

Sophie saw a slender young man whose rather pretty good looks held the promise of a double chin in middle age. He stared at Hal with his mouth hanging open, looked wildly at the piece of paper on the table in front of him, then back at the intruder. ‘Your Grace! I was just... I mean, I was – ’

‘Writing to tell me that you were about to become my brother-in-law?’ Hal suggested, strolling across to twitch the paper up between long fingers. Only the direction had been written at the top, Sophie saw. ‘Not getting very far, are you?’ He cast a glance at the overflowing wastepaper basket beside the table. ‘Rather a tricky social problem, is it not? Let us see, how would it go? I am writing to inform you that I have deceived your innocent young sister into believing me a man of good character and honest intention and have induced her to flee with me in circumstances that can only lead to her ruin in the eyes of polite Society. I will, of course, make an honest woman of her, at my own convenience. Please arrange for her inheritance to be paid to my account at Coutts Bank.’

Justin backed hastily around the table putting its width between him and Hal. ‘You misunderstand me, Your Grace, my intentions...’

‘It is you who misunderstand, you bloody little rat!’ Hal snarled. He rounded the table, took Justin by the collar and shook him like a terrier with a rodent.

‘Put him down, Hal,’ John commanded, striding to his side. The two ladies breathed a joint sigh of relief and to her amazement Sophie realized that she was clutching Emma’s hand in hers.

It took them both by surprise when Hal obediently relinquished his hold and stood back. But, instead of the words of reconciliation and calm that Sophie expected the Reverend Lord John to deliver, he folded a workmanlike fist and hit Justin Fanshaw squarely on the jaw, sending the young man crashing to the floor.

‘Damn good style,’ Hal remarked, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

John massaged his knuckles, and said, somewhat smugly, ‘You forget I had my Blue for boxing at Oxford.’

Emma exclaimed, ‘Oh, John darling! Well done,’ then fell silent, blushing vividly.

Hal looked down at Justin, crumpled and insensible on the floor. ‘He’ll live,’ he said indifferently.

‘Your Grace?’ the butler quavered from the doorway. ‘Is anything amiss? I heard a crash.’

‘Mr Fanshaw has had an accident,’ said John. ‘While my brother looks after him, perhaps my wife and I could have a word with the young lady who is staying here.’

‘John! Hal!’ There was the sound of running feet and a figure hurtled down the hall, through the doorway and threw herself on to John’s chest, bursting into noisy sobs.

The scene deteriorated into utter chaos. Elizabeth, still sobbing wildly, clutched at both her brothers. Emma flapped around the three of them crying, ‘Give her air, fetch sal volatile,’ and was totally ignored. The aged butler showed every sign of having a seizure, turned an alarming shade of red and clutched at his chest.

Sophie took the old man by the arm and led him into the hall. ‘There, there, sit down, I will find the housekeeper.’ She pushed him firmly into the hooded porter’s chair by the front door and hurried through the green baize door into the servants’ wing.

In the kitchen the cook was in the act of dispatching a maid to answer her mistress’s bedchamber bell, which was jangling fit to fall off the wall. She stared in amazement at the sight of a strange female demanding her attendance on the butler and ordering the remaining maid to fetch refreshments to the book room immediately. ‘Oh yes, and some arnica, a bandage and some sal volatile. And at least three or four handkerchiefs,’ Sophie added before she hurried out again.

An anxious glance at the butler reassured her that he was recovering from his shock. In the book room Elizabeth was sobbing quietly in John’s arms on the sofa. Emma was patting her shoulder ineffectually and Justin was groaning and attempting to sit up.

Hal reached down, seized him by the collar and hauled him into a chair. ‘Sit there, don’t move and keep your mouth shut.’

The young man nodded mutely.

There was a tap at the door and Sophie opened it just far enough to take the tray from the maid’s hands. ‘Thank you, that will be all for the moment, but bring the tea tray in ten minutes,’ she said briskly, closing the door on the girl’s startled face.

Hal had joined John on the sofa. Sophie handed the smelling salts and handkerchiefs to Lady John and turned to regard Justin Fanshaw. Far from looking like a dangerous seducer, he resembled nothing more than a frightened boy. His bottom lip was cut and his chin was already beginning to bruise and swell.

She tipped some of the arnica on to a handkerchief and passed it to him. ‘Here,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘It will sting, but it will take the bruising down.’

He took the pad with ill grace, causing her to regret her kindly impulse, then winced as the liquid met his cuts.

John was bending over his sister, whispering something into her ear. She became very agitated and shook her head vehemently. ‘No, no, of course not, I would never permit...’

Hal met John’s eyes across their sister's dark head and the two exchanged a nod of agreement. ‘Do you wish to marry him?’ John asked. ‘Because, after what you have just told me, you do not have to if you do not wish to. Your absence from home is not known and we can find some story to account for your unexpected arrival in York.’

Elizabeth looked up at that, her tear-streaked face fierce with anger. ‘Marry him? I would not marry him if he were the last man on earth! I would sooner marry a toad.’

Hal got to his feet and went to stand over the cowering figure of Justin Fanshaw. ‘And as for you, you will stay in this house until you have my leave to go. And do not think to run home to your father: he knows all about your stupid wickedness.’ Young Fanshaw went pale and buried his bruised face in the handkerchief. ‘I will call later this week and we will discuss what is to be done with you.’

 

The following day Sophie opened the door of the front parlour and found Emma and Lady Elizabeth presiding over the tea cups with a group of ladies who, although of a variety of ages, all shared an air of well-bred gentility. Without quite knowing why, Sophie was certain that each had some connection with the clergy of the Minster.

She was taken aback to find them there, far too early for a conventional morning call, and not a little nettled by their immediate, and scarcely veiled, curiosity.

Emma, although looking a little strained, made the introductions with her usual calm sang-froid. Sophie gathered that she was in the presence of the Archbishop's granddaughter, the wives of the Dean, the Archdeacon and two vicars serving the Minster, and the widow of the late Dean. The names became hopelessly jumbled in her mind as she wondered how Emma was going to account for her presence.

The Dean’s widow, obviously the most senior there, regarded Sophie through her lorgnette, and remarked, ‘Lady John, you are indeed blessed with young visitors. I do not recollect you saying that Lady Elizabeth had been accompanied by a friend.’

‘Oh, did I not, Mrs Cheriton? Well, of course, with poor Elizabeth feeling so low after her ague, and the natural concern of her brother, it seemed sensible to ask Miss Haydon – such a dear, reliable friend to Elizabeth – to accompany her on the long journey from London. And fortunately for us, Miss Haydon’s family were able to spare her.’

Sophie managed to smile modestly at this tribute, masking her astonishment at the ease with which the fabrication tripped off Lady John’s tongue, and also that she appeared not to mind the impertinent questioning of the older lady.

Now she knew what the story was that she must abide by, Sophie relaxed slightly and parried a flood of questions about the rigours of the journey, the weather, her family, whether or not she was related to the Devon Haydons and, only slightly more delicately, whether she was betrothed to be married.

Finally released when the collective curiosity turned to Elizabeth again, Sophie sipped her tea and suppressed a smile. Never had she had a more thorough grilling: the ladies would have done credit to the Spanish Inquisition! Now, she was certain, they were mentally searching through Debrett’s to place her lineage and deciding whether she was a threat to their unmarried daughters, a possibility for their unattached sons, or merely a fresh face to invite to social functions.

Her eyes met Elizabeth’s and she saw the humour in them, so like her brother’s. Against her two strapping brothers, both of whom were over six foot tall, Elizabeth was a delicate figure, but there was no mistaking the relationship. Her hair was very dark with the curl which showed at the nape of Hal’s neck. Her eyes, as intensely blue as his, were shaded by long, dark lashes but, unlike the men, she was very pale from the strains of the last week. The pallor in her cheeks gave useful credence to the story of an illness and there were faint, dark circles under her eyes.

The animated chit-chat was broken by Lady John saying firmly, ‘Now, Elizabeth, my dear, I know how much you are enjoying yourself, but it is time for your rest. Recall what Sir William Knighton told you.’

The ladies were obviously impressed by mention of the most eminent physician in London, and no one demurred when Elizabeth rose to take her leave. Sophie took the opportunity to escape too, with a murmur of, ‘Please excuse me, I must make sure she is settled and resting. So nice to have met you all.’

They were scarcely out of the door before first Elizabeth, then Sophie, burst into a fit of giggles. ‘What a collection of dowdies,’ Elizabeth spluttered as they tumbled into her bedroom and shut the door. ‘Did you ever come across such a lot of old tabbies?’

‘I have to admit, they are even worse than my sister-in-law’s friends,’ Sophie admitted.

‘It is because of the Minster,’ Elizabeth explained as she plumped down on the bed without a thought for creases in her muslin skirts. ‘They all want preferment for their husbands, sons or brothers, so they are constantly on the look-out for scandal in each other’s establishments.’

‘Poor Emma, between the two of us we must be posing her a real headache.’

Elizabeth snorted in a most unladylike manner. ‘Poor Emma nothing. She is the most ambitious of them all. John will find himself an Archbishop by the time he is fifty if she has anything to do with it. All that is missing from her campaign is a large and promising family, and the start of that, I understand, is already under way.’

‘Elizabeth, if Lady John is in the family way, I am not at all sure you should be discussing it.’

‘Oh, pooh! Don’t be so stuffy, Sophie.’ Elizabeth curled up on the bed, kicking off her kid slippers. ‘What shall we do when those old biddies have gone? Shall we go shopping?’

Just one day in Elizabeth's company, now she had recovered from her ordeal and felt safe again, had convinced Sophie that Hal was right: his young sister was a handful.

‘We are not to go anywhere until your brothers have returned from Miss Fanshaw’s.’ The two men had left after breakfast with a groom leading Mr Fanshaw’s hunters. Their intention was to make it quite clear to Justin that one word of his escapade with their sister would have consequences which he would deeply regret. And, as Hal had remarked, Mr Fanshaw senior would no doubt punish his errant son far more effectively than they could, and without risk of scandal.

‘Do you think they will horsewhip him?’ Elizabeth speculated with gleaming eyes. ‘Or Hal could call him out. John cannot, of course, being a man of the cloth.’

Sophie was feeling positively middle-aged in the face of Elizabeth’s enthusiasm, although there was a scant four years between them. She was certainly pale, but her spirits seemed to be fully restored. It appeared never to have occurred to her that one of her wonderful brothers would not have rescued her eventually, or that she had been in real danger of scandal, or worse.

‘Of course they cannot call him out, or horsewhip him either,’ Sophie said rather impatiently. ‘Your family is jumping through hoops to keep this whole business quiet and that would be the very thing to set tongues wagging. You do not wish to find yourself married to Justin Fanshaw, do you?’

‘Certainly not.’ Elizabeth shuddered. ‘Anyway, why should I? Nothing happened.’

‘You were alone in his company for a week,’ Sophie pointed out tartly. ‘Most people would consider that ample reason, even if you spent the entire week reading sermons together.’

Elizabeth subsided, but not for long. She regarded Sophie speculatively from those disconcertingly alert blue eyes. ‘It had not occurred to me with everyone making such a fuss about my situation but, Sophie, how exactly did you come to be here with Hal?’

Try as she might Sophie knew she was blushing. Like a kitten who has seen a twist of paper, Elizabeth pounced. ‘I knew it! There is a secret. Tell me at once, or I shall ask Hal.’

To hesitate would be to fuel the fire. Sophie said, as calmly as she could, ‘I happened to be at hand when Hal, that is, the Duke, discovered your disappearance. As I was unengaged at the time, I offered to accompany him to provide you with chaperonage.’

‘Oh.’ This clearly sounded depressingly respectable, then Elizabeth thought it through. ‘But you are not married, so who was chaperoning you?’

Sophie felt her blush deepen. ‘Er, no one. But we did not think it would be long before we caught you, so no one would be any the wiser and you and I would be safely in our beds by morning.’

Elizabeth was clearly thinking hard now. ‘But why did you not catch up with us? Hal has such wonderful horses. And there is no carriage in the stables here, other than Emma’s barouche. I know because I went round this morning to see her new mare. So you did not arrive by coach.’

‘There was a carriage accident which is why we did not catch you. And the repairs would have taken too long, so we had to ride.’

‘All that way? Side-saddle?’ She looked at Sophie’s hair. ‘Oh, how daring! I thought you had a very fashionable crop, but it isn't that, is it? You cut off your hair and pretended to be a boy.’ Sophie had obviously risen greatly in her estimation. ‘What an adventure, far more exciting than mine.’ Another short silence, then she added, ‘Hal is going to have to marry you, isn’t he? Oh, good, I would much prefer you as a sister than Hariette Miller.’