Bless Thine Inheritance

by Sophia Holloway

  ‘Bath! Good God, has the man no sense? Miss Mardham could not travel to Bath in his phaeton, especially not at the pace he would have to take to get there and back in the day, let alone with any time for Miss Mardham to complete her shopping. He is either mad, bad or a mixture of both. Miss Burton, I must leave you immediately. If I can catch them I may be able to bring Miss Mardham back before she has sustained any harm.’

  ‘You think it that serious, sir?’ Marianne paled.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  *

  Lord Levedale did not bother sending to the stables to prepare his curricle, but simply went to his bedchamber taking the stairs two at a time, shrugged himself into his driving coat, grabbed hat and gloves, and went to order the vehicle prepared as he waited. Rarely had Lord Mardham’s stable worked so fast as they did with his lordship clearly so keen to be off, and looking at his watch before them. Knook climbed up behind as the horses were set in motion, and the curricle swept from the yard at a very brisk trot. The pace was increased to a canter until the main gates of the estate were reached, and there, perforce, they were brought to a brief halt until the gates were opened. The curricle moved off and turned immediately to the left, and was set once more to a cracking pace. Lord Levedale did not, therefore, see the carriage that turned into the gateway before the lodgekeeper had time to shut them, nor the crest upon its doors.

  Chapter 21

  Celia had regretted agreeing to travel with Mr Wombwell from the moment his groom climbed up behind and he set his horses in motion. He did not do so with the tidiness of Lord Levedale, but rather a swaggering bravado that clearly put his animals upon the fret. Before they had even left the park he had looked at her, grinning, and declared, ‘How about at little excitement to blow the fidgets away’, and set his pair to a canter which was not in the least comfortable. He slowed with reluctance for the gates. They turned in the direction that would take them to the Cirencester road, but again the pace was unnecessarily swift, and Celia protested.

  ‘Mr Wombwell, we are not attempting to arrive in Cirencester, make purchases, and be back by noon.’

  ‘Cirencester? Why, ma’am, a lady such as yourself is wasted upon the meagre shops of Cirencester. For today you are in my hands, and I would have so fair a lady make her purchases in Milsom Street. We are going to Bath, for I have kidnapped you on an adventure, and I shall have you back in time for dinner too, laden with bandboxes.’

  Celia went white.

  ‘It is a poor jest sir.’

  ‘No jest, I assure you. Fie, Miss Mardham, do you have no adventure in you? Bath. Think of it in comparison with Cirencester.’

  ‘I am thinking that the distance is too great, Mr Wombwell.’

  ‘Not if I spring ’em,’ he laughed, and dropped his hands.

  The phaeton bowled along, but at a pace neither safe nor at all pleasant. Miss Mardham closed her eyes as they swept past a gig with the crown of a bend before them.

  ‘Please, I beg of you, sir, ameliorate the pace and let us go to Cirencester only.’

  ‘Scared, Miss Mardham? You will become adjusted. Levedale is but a mere whipster who dares not handle his cattle at pace. He has got you used to creeping about when the open road is for speed.’

  For a moment Celia wondered if the man had been drinking late into the night, and was thus still drunk, but there was no breath of spirits upon him.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she cried.

  He looked at her. He had thought perhaps to entrance her by his spontaneous act and dashing conduct, but the little fool was just a scared girl. Well, if he might not win her over by charm and daring he would at least be revenged upon Levedale. For all that the girl had given him the cold shoulder last night, the man was clearly besotted, and imagine his horror when he found out that she had been transported to Bath and back.

  ‘It pleases me to do so, Miss Mardham. I wish it.’

  ‘It is madness.’

  ‘It is escape from stultifying boredom, ma’am. Now, if you are a good girl, and do not bleat forever at me, I will myself purchase you a nice bonnet in Bath.’

  Celia was stuck. Even if they had to halt at a toll gate, she was incapable of dismounting from the phaeton without assistance. All she could do was cling on, and pray. In addition, she at first mentally berated Lord Levedale for his driving her into the lunatic arms of Mr Wombwell, but then honesty made her accept that it was her own pride that had committed the folly. She had wanted to prove she did not need or want Lord Levedale’s company. She had lied to herself – lied because she was hurt.

  The bouncing about, and the need to grip the handrail for dear life, soon took its toll. She felt physically sick, and her leg ached appallingly. The speed was ameliorated a little in Cirencester itself but increased once more as they turned onto the post road towards Tetbury. She knew it well enough. The Bath road through Malmesbury would turn from it in a few miles. She must endure hours of this, and how thereafter she was meant to travel home by the same method she could not imagine. She tried to think clearly.

  At this pace he must surely change horses at The Bell in Malmesbury. She wondered if she might request assistance to alight upon some pretext there, and refuse to continue. The coin in her purse had been for gloves and stockings, but would surely cover the cost of sending a post boy home to Meysey with a note for Papa. How she was to account for her being with a gentleman so far from home and so desirous of parting company with him that she would face sitting alone and unchaperoned in a posting inn, she did not know, but her body could not possibly endure such a shaking all the way to Bath.

  It was not going to have to do so. Some miles short of Malmesbury, Mr Wombwell overtook a laden waggon, and upset the oxen pulling it. As they tossed angry heads, his horses spooked, for a moment he lost control, and the next his large rear wheel had gone onto the roadside and they were veering into the ditch. He hauled upon his horses’ mouths, and they jibbed. The phaeton teetered at a precarious angle, and the carman, having settled his beasts, ambled past with comments that were not fit for a lady’s ears. Celia did not hear them, for she was sat, paralysed by fear that the vehicle was about to tip onto its side, and she would be in the ditch with it upon her.

  *

  Lord Levedale was not a man who drove recklessly, not in normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances, and Jeb Knook was both shocked and surprised at the pace, and his lordship’s willingness to overtake other vehicles at speed. He suppressed a remonstrance the first time, but was favourably impressed by his employer’s skill. Besides which, his lordship was usually a pleasant and well-tempered gentleman, and the look upon his face now was one of grim determination and anger. Knook said nothing. They negotiated Cirencester at a necessarily curtailed pace, but once upon the straight road of the old Fosse Way Lord Levedale dropped his hands and for a few brief miles his team had their heads. Contrary to Mr Wombwell’s belief, he did know how to handle his horses.

  He judged that they were good to last until Malmesbury and he had every hope of catching Wombwell before that point. He paid attention to the road, but his mind was full of tumultuous thoughts. What was Wombwell thinking, trying to get Miss Mardham to Bath and back in a day? Even assuming a ridiculous pace it was the best part of four hours and the thought of her at risk from Wombwell showing off his driving skills sent a chill down Lord Levedale’s back. He told himself that the man would not be so foolish, but did not fully believe it.

  Just after crossing the Thames & Severn canal the post road to Malmesbury turned off the Tetbury road. By now his right hand was hurting, and the glove felt slightly sticky inside.

  It was perhaps no more than three miles before he saw a vehicle ahead of him, precariously situated with one wheel in the ditch, and the driver struggling to control his horses. He wanted it to be Wombwell, even though he knew Miss Mardham, who must be the female figure leaning at a desperate angle, must be terrified of the phaeton toppling over. He pulled up hi
s team a little to the rear of the accident, with a curt command to Knook to stand to his horses’ heads, and came up to the carriage on the near side. He stepped down into the ditch, which was comparatively dry, ignoring the risk that the equipage might yet fall sideways upon him. Miss Mardham, her face white, her lips compressed, was clinging on to the side of the vehicle.

  ‘Miss Mardham, you will be quite safe. Loosen your grip and let gravity have its way. I will not let you fall.’ She stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘Celia. It is alright. Trust me.’

  She did trust him, but she had spent every mile since Cirencester gripping the thin rail as if it were her hope of salvation, and now that grip had become vice-like, and she could not move her fingers.

  ‘I cannot. My hands … are fixed.’ Her voice was a whisper of distress.

  ‘Look at me. You must relax them. All will be well now. I will take you home.’

  ‘My leg hurts.’ She was frightened, frightened of what might happen, and of what might have already happened. Her words frightened him also, but he applied logic.

  ‘You have been jostled about and jarred by the accident. It is no wonder that it hurts, but I am sure no worse has occurred. I will take you back to Meysey and your doctor can be summoned.’ He spoke calmly, ignoring the imprecations Wombwell was still directing at his groom, struggling with the frightened horses, ignoring too the movement of the phaeton. ‘Trust me, Celia. Let go, my love.’ The endearment sprang naturally to his lips. She was looking at him intently, willing herself to be able to obey the instruction, and those two words made the difference.

  She had accepted Wombwell’s offer in a fit of pique, wanting to show she did not need Lord Levedale, did not care if he offered for Marianne – but she did need him, did care. He called her ‘his love’ and look and voice confirmed the truth of the words. She wanted the security of his arms about her. She shut her eyes, focused upon loosening her own grip and, with a gasping cry, slipped from the seat and into his arms.

  He stood firm, almost, staggering only very slightly as he was put off balance, and held her close. She was trembling. The phaeton lurched as the disposition of weight changed, but did not slip further into the ditch. He stepped carefully along the inequalities of the ditch bottom to where the slope was less steep and he could see a likely foothold. He did not want to relinquish his burden to Knook, nor take the groom from his horses’ heads. He trod with care, and if Celia gave a little cry as she felt their balance teeter, the manoeuvre took but a moment, and then they were upon the road. He smiled down at her, encouragingly.

  ‘You see. I told you I would not—’ He stopped. She was looking at him, and there was so much more than trust in her eyes. Knook had his back to them, and Wombwell and the other groom were likewise engaged in other things. Nobody would see. He kissed her; in one lingering kiss he conveyed his love, that her ordeal was over, that her safety was assured. ‘Celia, oh my dear girl.’ He pressed his cheek to hers. ‘If anything terrible had befallen you …’ The thought drew him back to an awareness of Wombwell. ‘I would have killed him, I swear it.’

  ‘He is of no matter, now.’

  ‘No, of no matter. You must trust me further, my love, and let me lift you into my curricle. Arms tight about my neck, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ She gave the tiniest of smiles, and gripped him tightly. He took the step without lingering, so that they were not balanced upon its narrowness for more than a second, and set her upon the seat. Then he went round to climb up and take the reins.

  ‘Good girl.’ He sat beside her and called Knook to stand away from the horses’s heads and climb up behind once more. Then he began to manoeuvre carefully past the damaged phaeton. Mr Wombwell cast him a scowling look.

  ‘Here. Take me up instead of the groom and I can get a fresh turn-out in Malmesbury, Levedale.’

  ‘It is probably no more than five miles, Wombwell. The walk will do you good. You can use the time to consider your foolhardiness, and your lack of consideration for Miss Mardham’s safety and wellbeing. You may also consider how close you have come to me knocking you down, here and now. Oh, and by the by, two of the spokes of your nearside wheel are broken.’ With which Lord Levedale set his pair to an easy trot, and looked to the road ahead.

  Celia was still trembling, and he glanced at her pallor. It was the jarring and the shock, nothing more, surely.

  ‘I am going to change horses in Malmesbury, for mine are best part blown, and a fresh team will give an easier ride.’ He raised his voice. ‘Jeb.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘I would have you wait with the horses, and bring them back to Meysey at an easy pace, this afternoon. They ought to be rested enough by then.’

  ‘But that means we shall be alone, my lord,’ murmured Celia. ‘What of the proprieties?’

  ‘To be frank, my love, the proprieties can go hang in a situation that is an emergency such as this, but you are right. As an honourable man, I shall of course repair immediately to Lord Mardham and offer for your hand.’ He managed to keep his voice steady.

  ‘You must not think that …’ Celia saw his lips twitch. ‘It is not fair to roast me, sir, for I am in no condition to think.’ She sighed. ‘I just wish that I might cease to shake. It is most demeaning and unpleasant. I have always despised “die away airs” and look at me now.’

  He looked.

  ‘Very nice, though I prefer you with more colour.’

  In more normal circumstances she would have blushed fierily, but only the slightest change was visible upon her cheek.

  The remainder of the journey into Malmesbury was conducted in near silence, Lord Levedale concentrating upon making their progress as smooth as possible, while Celia tried to set her thoughts in order. They reached the Old Bell in Malmesbury, where Celia declined an offer of tea, and preferred to remain seated in the curricle during the change of horses rather than be lifted down.

  ‘If you feel too knocked about, I can secure a chamber for you here, drive back to Meysey and have a more comfortable carriage come for you with your mother to attend you.’ Lord Levedale was worried by her looking so unwell.

  ‘Thank you, but I want to get home, to my own bed, and if Dr Stour might be called … I would feel the easier for knowing there is nothing really wrong.’

  ‘You know, were that not so, your condition would be far worse. Once a bone is mended I believe it is no weaker than before, and you were not, thank God, thrown from the phaeton. You have been jolted and frightened and bumped about frightfully, but the discomfort will pass. You need rest.’ He squeezed her gloved hand.

  ‘All set, my lord. I’ll have the chestnuts rubbed down and watered, and bring them back nice ’nd easy like you said.’ Knook looked quite unperturbed, as if they had merely gone for a morning’s jaunt.

  ‘Thank you, Jeb.’ Lord Levedale handed him coin to pay for whatever was needed at the inn.

  ‘My lord, since you are not about to drive at a ludicrous pace, might I suggest the route back via Cricklade, which is not as straight, but shorter, and a quieter road?’ suggested Celia, diffidently.

  ‘Of course. You will have to direct me in the lanes after Cricklade, however.’

  ‘I know them well enough, sir.’

  He turned his new pair about and took the road as directed. The horses were pretty evenly matched, and had, he was relieved to find, a good, even pace.

  ‘You are not too uncomfortable at this speed?’ The trot was steady. ‘I should have you back to Meysey in an hour and a half at a guess.’

  She shook her head, with a ghost of a smile.

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  It was another mile or so before she spoke.

  ‘This is, of course, all my fault.’

  ‘I would like to hear how. You goaded Wombwell into driving to Bath at breakneck pace?’

  ‘Of course not, but I ought never to have accepted his offer of taking me anywhere. I dislike and distrust the man.’

  ‘So why did you?’ He had
a fair guess as to the reason but wondered if she would admit it openly.

  ‘Because … because I wanted to show you I did not care, and I did, I do. I did not want you to marry Marianne, and I did not understand how you could behave that way with her and make me fall in love with you at the same time.’ The words tumbled out.

  ‘My darling, I do not think the word “make” ever entered into our falling in love. I even tried not to do so, and have failed “miserably”.’

  She leaned very slightly against his shoulder.

  ‘I tried too, because I thought it was not possible that you should love me, but when we were together I felt as never before. When you took me out driving I had no doubts, and yet, at the house, you … you flirted with Marianne.’

  ‘I shall explain, later. Suffice to say, it was not from any natural inclination to do so, Celia, my love.’

  ‘And when you said you would speak with Father, it was from “inclination” not a feeling that you ought?’

  ‘You know that. You must know that.’ He slowed the horses to a walk. The road was empty. He slid an arm about her shoulders, and she held up her face for his kisses. When they parted, she slipped her arm through his as he drove on.

  ‘It seems so strange that you do not mind me being … as I am.’

  ‘Oh, I mind, Celia,’ he said, his voice still a little husky. ‘I mind an awful lot, but not because you are crippled, but that the injury “cripples” your enjoyment of life, curtails what you want to do.’

  ‘It appears it will not curtail me from doing what I want most of all, and becoming your wife.’

  ‘And I want to make as many things possible for you as can be achieved. There will always be limitations, Celia, but life can still be a delight.’ He could not say what filled his mind at that moment, that the thought of her as his wife conjured up those thoughts most unsuitable for a public road. When he had kissed her her response had been inexperienced, of course, but innocently eager, and in his arms he had been aware of the soft femininity of her. It had heightened his desire for her.