A Highly Respectable Marriage

by Sheila Walsh

  ‘No indeed. I only wish I might be going with you!’ She made a quick dismissive gesture. ‘I know. It isn’t possible and it was a stupid thing to say.’ She smiled. ‘Go along now, both of you. I won’t hold you up a moment longer.’

  She shooed them out just as the summons came from Octavia’s room demanding to know what was going on, Frederick having delivered an account which she found it impossible to credit.

  ‘I’ll deal with Octavia,’ Pandora said, confident in her new-found wealth of being equal to anything. And when the letter bearing good news from Mr Lewis was delivered later that morning, it seemed to set a seal upon the day.

  The Duke, meanwhile ‒ the delivery of the emerald necklace to the fair but unlamented Irena accomplished ‒ proceeded to a house in Curzon Street where he was presently admitted to a first floor apartment by a manservant of uncertain age and melancholy countenance who informed his grace in hushed tones that his master was at his toilet.

  ‘What ‒ past midday and not about yet? No matter, Jenkinson, I’ll announce myself.’

  He discovered the Honourable FitzWilliam Humbert Chessington seated at his table in a discreetly shaded dressing room regarding his image mournfully in the mirror. Drooping eyelids lifted momentarily to acknowledge his friend’s arrival before returning once more to contemplation of his own not unpleasing countenance.

  Heron crossed to the window intent upon throwing back the half drawn curtains.

  ‘No, no ‒ not any further, I beg of you, Robert … not until I am feeling more the thing. D’you know, only yesterday I discovered three new wrinkles ‒ yes, three, I swear it! Just there, do you see?’

  Heron’s shout of laughter demonstrated a distinct lack of sensitivity. He rattled the curtain back along its pole ignoring his friend’s pronounced wince, and proceeded to stretch out in a comfortable hide armchair surveying him lazily.

  ‘On the toddle last night, were we?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ came the pained reply. ‘I was at Amelia Meldon’s levée ‒ and a damned fatiguing affair it proved to be. You were quite right to eschew it. After only two hours I was quite done in!’ A crumpled cravat fluttered to the floor to add to a fast growing pile, and he selected a newly starched one.

  Heron chuckled. ‘If I didn’t know you so well, Fitz, I would be tempted to think you a very paltry creature.’

  A faint gleam lit Mr Chessington’s eyes. ‘So I am, dear old fellow. Deuced paltry.’ Alarm flickered momentarily. ‘You haven’t come to make me do anything energetic?’

  ‘Rest easy. I hope I know my limitations.’

  Jenkinson glided into the room bearing Mr Chessington’s best blue superfine and for the next few minutes an absorbed silence prevailed as the efforts of master and servant combined to fitting it to the satisfaction of both. A faint sigh proclaimed the task accomplished.

  ‘Is that brother of yours still in town, Fitz?’

  ‘Ned?’ There was a note of surprise in the young exquisite’s voice. ‘Wasn’t aware that you craved brother Ned’s company.’

  ‘I don’t. I merely wish to pick his brains ‒ concerning a certain Colonel who was involved in some minor scandal.’

  Fitz shrugged. ‘Oh, well ‒ if it’s an Army affair, then Ned’s your man. He bores on about such matters for hours!’ He sat for a moment more, his hand hovering uncertainly over the crisply falling intricacies of his cravat. Then he sighed and stood up. ‘I suppose you are driving? If you care to take me as far as Brooks’s, no doubt we shall find him there, holding forth as usual upon the encounter in which he acquired the ball in his leg.’

  ‘Y’know, it ain’t like you to interest yourself in Army scandals, Robert,’ Fitz continued as they drove.

  ‘True. But my curiosity has been aroused ‒ and must be satisfied.’

  ‘Ah!’ Fitz nodded sagely. ‘There’s a woman in this somewhere, I’ll wager.’

  Heron cast him an amused look. ‘Now why should you suppose that?’

  ‘Because only two things can be guaranteed to engage your interest to such an extent ‒ and I doubt it’s horses in this instance!’ He returned Heron’s glance with unexpected keenness. ‘Do I know her?’

  ‘I very much doubt it. And you may remove that quizzing look from your face, Fitz,’ said the Duke without taking his eyes from the road. ‘I don’t lust after this lady ‒ in truth, she is little more than a girl and not a particularly well-endowed one at that.’ He favoured Mr Chessington with a deliberately brief summary of his encounters with Miss Carlyon.

  ‘Pandora?’ A frown creased the young exquisite’s brow. ‘Got it! Greek mythology! Ain’t she the one who …’

  ‘Loosed from her box all the ills that plague mankind.’ Heron’s mouth quirked as he completed the fable. ‘Quite so. But in this case ‒ though Miss Carlyon certainly exhibits a genius for precipitating the unexpected, one could never, I believe, suspect her of mischievous intent.’

  ‘None the less …’ Mr Chessington shook his head. ‘It don’t augur well. Give her the go-by, dear boy. Much the best thing.’

  At Brooks’s, they found Captain Lord Edward Chessington eagerly imparting the news just brought from Bordeaux by a friend. Following upon the surrender of Paris to the Russian and Prussian troops, Napoleon had already abdicated and fled to Elba, but apparently the fighting was not yet at an end. Bayonne was still under siege and in a wanton disinclination to make peace poor General Hay had been killed and Sir John Hope taken prisoner.

  As Hay had been his lordship’s immediate chief, it was some time before he could be brought to discuss the matter of Colonel Carlyon.

  ‘What? Fancy your knowing about that little affair!’ Edward, leaning upon an elegant ebony cane, limped gracefully across to sit beside Heron. ‘Didn’t know such tales carried this far ‒ an unfortunate incident, y’know, but no more so than many another. Campaigns are littered with ’em! Somewhere in the Pyrenees as I remember … wasn’t actually on the spot myself at the time, but we all heard about it soon enough. It was the old story ‒ atrocious weather! Rain? The ground a deuced quagmire … the nine-pounders bogged down on one side of a ravine, and the rest of ’em not in a much better way. Soult’s troops entrenched along a ridge across the river, barring the way … and the whole lot shrouded in mist.’

  Edward tapped one gleaming boot tip thoughtfully with his stick. ‘Well, the long and short of it was that Carlyon rode off to confer with other senior officers and a message was sent back that the guns were to bombard the ridge whilst the engineers attempted to get a small force of our fellows across the river unnoticed. There was a fair bit of confusion, and the message, as interpreted by a regular Johnny Raw in charge of one of the batteries, was that the French were crossing the river and he was to stop ’em.’

  ‘I daresay you can imagine the rest.’ Edward lifted a laconic glance to Heron. ‘Fortunately the mist saved most of the men and Carlyon arrived back in time to prevent what might have been the most bloody awful carnage!’

  ‘And accepted full responsibility,’ finished the Duke.

  ‘Naturally. Like I said, these things happen. Even old Nosey, who has little love for the artillery, was fairly sanguine about the whole thing. But then, he did have the greatest respect for Carlyon. I believe he made a point of saying so in a recent dispatch.’

  ‘Well, my thanks to you,’ said the Duke, rising to take his leave.

  Lord Edward grinned. ‘Pleasure, my dear Heron. Shouldn’t have thought it the kind of thing to take your interest, but then you delight in surprising us occasionally.’ He squinted up at Heron, his voice deepening to a drawl. ‘You have recently acquired a brace of French brats, I hear. Most diverting!’ He chuckled. ‘One is not sure, in this case, whether congratulations or commiserations are in order!’

  Chapter Eight

  Time was passing almost too quickly for Pandora. No sooner had she bid farewell to Courtney, who looked quite heartbreakingly young and handsome in his new regimentals, with Papa’s sword at his s
ide, than the moment came to prepare for William’s departure, too.

  Her elation upon first reading the letter from Mr Lewis was tempered almost at once by the realization that, if the clerical gentleman he had found proved acceptable, William would not only be leaving her charge, but would be going further away than she cared to contemplate.

  A second letter followed swiftly upon the first, this time addressed to Pandora from the clerical gentleman himself and couched in such pleasant kindly terms that she was instantly reassured. Mr Brearly explained that he was obliged to visit London the following week upon a small matter of business, and that if convenient he would be happy to take William with him when he returned home. His visit would also (and this found particular favour with Pandora) enable Miss Carlyon to satisfy herself that he was a fit person to have the care of her brother.

  William looked forward to his new life with all his usual optimism, the only cloud on his horizon, apart from leaving Pandora, being a fear that he might lose contact with his friend, Mr Oliver.

  ‘I ’spect I had better return his notes, which is a great pity because they are fearfully interesting! Do come with me to meet Mr Oliver, ’dora,’ he urged, ‘because you never have and he would very much like to meet you. I’ve told him all about you!’

  Pandora wondered, laughing, what there was to tell.

  ‘Oh, heaps!’ William grinned. ‘What a jolly person you are to be with ‒ comfortable, you know, not in the least like most fellows’ sisters!’

  She was moved by the unexpected encomium from this most undemonstrative of brothers, and though her manner was teasing, there was a sudden hollow in her chest as she realized how much she would miss his cheery company.

  ‘Besides,’ he continued, with an ingenuousness that quite restored her spirits, ‘if you come you would be able to tell Mr Oliver that you are agreeable to letting me go up with him and then we might manage to fit in an ascent before I leave.’

  William’s aeronaut friend was not at all as Pandora had imagined him. A shy, gangling young man, he pumped her hand in an excess of nervous zeal and spent the first few minutes of their meeting apologizing for the state of his tiny room, gazing round with a kind of vague helplessness at the piles of books and papers which overflowed every available space, and finally clearing a chair for her with an impulsive sweeping gesture.

  ‘If you do not object, Miss Carlyon, I should very much like to keep in touch with William. He has an astonishing capacity for understanding … a true feeling for aeronautics … quite rare, you know, in one so young! Should be nurtured … can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s going to receive more adequate tuition at last …’ The words died away and Mr Oliver turned pink at what he was sure must seem very much like presumptuous criticism, but Pandora quickly put him at ease by agreeing with him wholeheartedly. They parted on the best of terms, it being decided that Mr Oliver would call upon William whenever he found himself at all close to Chedwell rectory, and that though an ascent was not possible at present, William should be accommodated at the very first opportunity.

  ‘It’s a great pity that you couldn’t have met the Duke of Heron,’ said William, shaking hands as they left. ‘He is jolly interested in ballooning, too, isn’t he, ’dora? We had a long talk about it. In fact, I expect he’d be quite pleased if you were to call upon him ‒ bring him up to date, you know. He did say his knowledge was a bit behindhand.’

  Pandora had no such faith in his grace’s burning thirst for knowledge and endeavoured to convey the fact as tactfully as she could, lest the young man be misled. But a faint glint in his eyes told her that she need not have worried.

  Octavia had been ill-tempered from the day Mr Lewis’s letter had first arrived. It had, she said, come as a great shock to her nerves to learn the news.

  ‘I had thought you would be relieved to be rid of William,’ said Pandora mildly.

  ‘That is hardly the point. What I do not care for is the sly way in which you have gone behind our backs!’ Octavia’s voice had quivered with grievance. ‘Frederick has been to a great deal of trouble, I might tell you, and had all but settled with the headmaster of a small school near Islington to accept William upon the most reasonable terms …’

  Pandora could imagine the kind of school it would be and blessed Mr Lewis for his excellent timing.

  ‘He will be made to look exceedingly foolish if he must now tell the man he no longer requires the place! I cannot understand why you would prefer some impoverished cleric whom no one has ever seen, and who will probably fleece you and allow William to do as he pleases! But then, you all seem to think you may do as you please ‒ irresponsible to a degree, Courtney most of all! I hope you may none of you live to rue your thoughtless ways!’

  Since it was clear that her hopes were quite the reverse, the only positive outcome of this diatribe was to make Pandora resolve to quit Brook Street the moment William was settled. Now that her finances were less desperate, she could afford to moderate her ideas somewhat. Perhaps Lady Margerson would take her in for a short time ‒ just until her mind was made up.

  Any lingering qualms that she might have entertained regarding William’s future were dispelled within moments of meeting Mr Brearly, who managed to encompass in his large genial frame exactly the right degree of wisdom and firmness necessary for dealing with small boys. Even Octavia, who had officiously insisted upon being present, could not deny as much, though it was clear she found his pleasant leavening of humour an ominous sign.

  William took to his prospective tutor on the instant and was soon being regaled with a comprehensive account of the Brearly family’s doings at Chedwell rectory, guaranteed to dispel any hint of apprehension he might harbour. Pandora warmed to the bluff clergyman. There were, it seemed, apart from the rector and his wife, two boys, one a year older than William and one younger, and two little girls.

  ‘Oh, girls!’ scoffed her brother and was sharply reproved by Octavia.

  But Mr Brearly’s eyes only twinkled the more deeply from within deep laughter creases. ‘Yes, I know, my boy ‒ but they are necessary to our lives, you know! And though perhaps I may be guilty of partiality, I think you will find Liza and Amelia not too tiresome! In fact, we all rub along very comfortably together and I am sure you will soon feel yourself one of us.’ A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. ‘I daresay you will not wish to be working all the time,’ he concluded as he left, having arranged the time at which he would collect William on the following morning. ‘In which case my boys can find you some excellent country to explore round about.’

  These last few hours with her brother suddenly seemed very precious to Pandora, but he was so full of all Mr Brearly had told him and was so cheerful that she finally resigned herself to the probability that he would miss her far less than she would miss him.

  In consequence, she accompanied the travellers to the coaching inn upon the following morning determined to maintain a phlegmatic mien, but at the last it was William who grew pensive. The sight of him, looking pale and earnest amid all the noise and bustle of the inn yard, undid all her resolution. She gathered him into a swift convulsive hug and adjured him shakily to mind all that Mr Brearly told him ‒ and to write.

  This last was urged without much hope, but ‘I will see that he does, ma’am,’ said the clergyman, taking her hand in a comforting clasp just before they departed. He would also, he assured her, keep her informed as to how William did, and she must feel herself welcome to visit them at any time.

  She waved after the fast-blurring outline of the coach until it lumbered from view. Then she blew her nose and summoned a hack. There was something she had been making up her mind to do for several days now; it would help her to stop brooding if she accomplished it at once.

  The driver of the hack looked somewhat taken aback when she directed him to the address Josiah had given her. The reason became apparent when they reached the long row of depressingly dingy houses, among which one stood out by reason of the extra ca
re lavished upon it.

  Mrs Blakewell was a brisk woman veiling a certain despair behind eyes that were sharply questioning as they took in the slim, neatly clad form of her visitor, and the waiting hack.

  Pandora explained who she was and asked if she might speak with Sergeant Blakewell.

  ‘This way.’ There was a brusqueness in the woman’s voice as she ushered Pandora into a sparsely furnished kitchen where, at a well-scrubbed table, two little girls and a boy laboured at their books under the unyielding supervision of their father, a man more used to dealing with soldiers.

  He came clumsily to his feet, chair scraping back, his words equally rasping as he demanded to know why his wife had not shown Miss Pandora into the parlour.

  ‘Why should I? Are you ashamed to let the colonel’s daughter see how we live?’

  ‘Alice!’

  Pandora had heard that ominous growl many times. Very much aware that the children were staring with interest, she smiled at them and, stripping off her gloves, said lightly, ‘Why indeed, ma’am? The sergeant and I have been in too many tight corners together for us to be standing on ceremony now.’

  Her words, quietly practical, had the desired effect. Mrs Blakewell sounded slightly less grudging as, having shooed the children outside to play, she said, ‘You’ll sit down and take some refreshment, Miss Carlyon? We haven’t a lot to offer ‒’

  ‘Thank you, but I cannot stay now.’ Pandora explained about William and how she did not know her way about London, hence the waiting hack. ‘I will come another time, if I may. For now, there is an idea I wish to put to Josiah.’ Without further preamble she took a small purse from her reticule and laid it on the table.

  The atmosphere at once prickled with resentment. Before anything could be said, however, she continued crisply: ‘I am not offering you charity ‒ in fact I am not offering you anything at all.’ She looked squarely at the sergeant. ‘I have a little money to spare ‒ not much, but I would like it to be spent usefully. It occurred to me, Josiah, that a lot of our men will be coming home soon ‒ some of them in much worse case than you. So … well, I thought perhaps that if you had this set aside ‒’ she put a hand on the purse ‘‒ you could advance them a little, just to tide them over.’ She smiled nervously, as though appealing for their understanding. ‘After all, you are more likely to know who is in genuine need than I.’