‘I do. You’re of similar build and if you ride a Frating Hall nag, keep your hat pulled down, and don’t speak, I think you’ll pass. I intend to visit Charles this morning. He will give me all the details I require to make this work.’ Theo pushed aside his plate. ‘Are you happy with my scheme, Smith?’
‘I am, sir. But before you go. I didn’t have time to tell you last night that Miss Devenish knows you’re an impostor. Her lawyers discovered there’s no such person as Sir Theodore Devenish.’
‘The devil take it! How did she react to the news?’
‘With remarkable equanimity. It was she who realized your true role down here - that of spy catcher - and sent me with those letters.’
Theo grinned and stood up bowing formally. ‘I will introduce myself to you Mr Smith. Theodolphus Archibald Frederick John Rickham, seventh Duke of Wister at your service.’
John, on his feet, bowed. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, your grace.’
‘Have you listened to the gossip downstairs, are they still talking of Miss Devenish and I?’
‘I’m afraid so. Her sudden disappearance has added fuel to the speculation. This is the second time Miss Devenish has been involved in a scandal and the second time she has been forced to run away.’
‘Tell me what happened in Bath, the letter from her grandmother, Mrs Devenish, merely said she had been obliged to leave because of an attempted abduction.’
‘Sir James Russell, may he rot in hell, made up to her. She being innocent of such men and their wiles was taken in and believed he was her friend. Russell drove her out on picnics with only my Jane as chaperone and the tattle mongers got to work. Then I got wind he had arranged for a closed carriage to collect her and my suspicions were aroused.’
‘An abduction?’
‘Yes, Miss Devenish trusted him and would no doubt have gone willingly not realizing what he was about. I was able to tell her the whole, reveal his baser motives and persuade her to leave. Mrs Devenish was only too happy to compose the necessary letters of introduction. Her sole reason for inviting Marianne to stay with her was to access her inheritance but she would have known scandal was about to engulf her.’
‘I am not acquainted with this man but you can be sure that if ever I meet him he will regret the experience.’
‘I take it your feelings are engaged?’
Theo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you suggesting I was trifling with her?’
John hastily shook his head. ‘No, you grace, but what if news of both incidents reaches Town? Miss Devenish will be ruined— how will you feel then? You are a man a consequence, a duke, would you wish to link yourself with someone whose good name was gone?’
‘God damn it! What sort of man do you take me for? If she rode like Lady Godiver down New Bond Street I would still marry her.’
John’s mouth fell open and his face flushed at the idea of such an unlikely occurrence.
Theo laughed. ‘I apologize; that was not an appropriate analogy. But I’m sure you understand my meaning. I believe I knew the moment I set eyes on her that I would marry her. But I could not propose until I had completed my mission and could reveal my true identity.’
‘That’s a relief. She’s a headstrong young lady and has come up with a cork brained scheme to retire to a country estate and moulder away as an old maid.’
Theo frowned then smiled. ‘I have a letter for you to take Horse Guards. I think in the circumstances I will send you to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office, at Doctor’s Commons, to purchase a special license as well. You have two days to post there and back, that is ample time.’
‘Do you wish me to convey a note to Miss Devenish, your grace?’
‘I think not. I have no intention of proposing in a letter. I shall do it in person as soon as this other business is sorted.’
‘How have you explained your possession of the letters?’ John asked.
‘I merely said they were discovered at a drop-off point we raided. Unfortunately Friday will not be the end of it. I still have to ferret out the true traitors in London or elsewhere and that could take several weeks.’
John looked blank. ‘So why the need for a special license, your grace? Plenty of time to have banns called before you will be free to wed. ‘
‘I cannot wait that long. God knows what scrapes Marianne will get into if she is left to her own devices. Neither do I wish to risk her being harmed by malicious gossip. No, I shall marry her then bring her back here. She can reside at Bentley Hall on her own or return to live with the Griersons. You can be very sure that when she is my duchess she will be welcome at Frating Hall once more.’
‘If you’ll forgive me saying so, your grace, I wouldn’t inform Miss Devenish you intend to marry her and then abandon her. She might not agree to the union if she was aware of that.’
Theo slapped John heartily on the back. ‘Good God, man, I am not a complete flat. When the knot is tied will be soon enough.’
John left soon after, driven to Colchester a bag of gold coins secreted on his person. Some were for his journey but four pounds was to pay the stamp duty on the special license. He wished the duke had agreed to send a letter to Miss Marianne making his intentions clear, there had been more than enough upset and misunderstanding between them in the short time they had been acquainted.
Chapter Seventeen
The clock said a little after six o’clock and Marianne was waiting in the drawing-room at Brook Street for Lady Ashton’s carriage to arrive to take her to the opera. She was wearing her most elaborate evening gown, a silk creation with a sea green underskirt and silver gauze overdress. Her matching opera cloak lined with silver, floated around her as she walked anxiously back and forth across the carpets.
Mrs Sampson looked for the third time at the mantle clock. ‘This is decidedly odd. Lady Ashton is never tardy; indeed, she is the most punctual of my friends. I do not understand what is keeping her. Let me see the card again, my dear.’
Marianne handed over the invitation she had received the previous day. She knew the contents by rote. She had been cordially invited to join Lord and Lady Ashton for a night at the opera. The carriage was to collect her at five thirty promptly and formal dress was required to be worn.
‘Perhaps the carriage has been held up by an accident,’ Marianne volunteered.
‘I do hope not. But it is such a brief journey, I hardly think there is time to be involved in such a thing. I think I will send someone round with a note.’
Marianne removed her cloak but was reluctant to sit in case she creased her gown. As the Ashtons lived only a few streets away the footman returned promptly. Mrs Sampson spoke to him in the hall then rejoined Marianne in the drawing-room.
‘I am sorry, my dear but it appears they have gone without you. I cannot imagine why they
should have been so uncivil. And you look so very beautiful in your evening gown.’
‘I will retire to my room, please excuse me, Mrs Sampson. I’m sure there will be a reasonable explanation but we must wait until the morning to discover what it is.’
Jane was now permitted to have an evening free. Annie, her new dresser was quickly at her side to help remove her dress. Despite the early hour Marianne asked for her nightgown.
‘Would you like a supper tray to be sent up, Miss Devenish?’
‘No, I’ll retire early. I shall not require you again tonight.’
Left alone Marianne went to stand by the window; the two older children were having a last walk in the garden before going retiring. She glanced down - she felt no older than them - as if she had been sent to bed for some major misdemeanour.
Her throat constricted and unwelcome tears filled her eyes. She had been so looking forward to tonight, to wearing her new gown and hearing her first opera. Why had Lady Ashton’s carriage not come?
Then she recalled on her arrival three days previously Mrs Sampson had forgotten all about her; perhaps this was what had happened. Yes, that would be the explan
ation. Lady Ashton had sent the card and then been distracted and the invitation had quite slipped her memory.
Feeling considerably more cheerful Marianne got out her writing box, sorted out a pen and paper and sat down to write a long letter to Emily. She had become fond of her foster sister and found she was missing the cosy conversations they had shared. Writing a letter would
help alleviate her loneliness. But thinking about Frating Hall inevitably led to thoughts of Theo and her page was soon too blotched to use. She was becoming a veritable watering pot, she had cried more in the past few days than in the whole of her life.
There was far too much light to sleep with the shutters open so she unfolded them and pulled the heavy drapes as well. When the room was dark enough she climbed into bed but soon the room became unpleasantly hot and stuffy. She had omitted to open any windows before shutting herself in for the night. Too dispirited to go back and let in some much-needed air she turned over and closed her eyes.
She spent a hot and sticky night and by morning had a sick headache. The combination
of no food and little air had proved harmful. She felt too ill to ring for Jane or Annie; her head pounded and she was so sick she was glad she hadn’t eaten.
Jane arrived early having heard about the disappointment of the previous night. ‘Oh dear, miss, you have a bad head don’t you?’ She tutted and hurried over to the windows to throw them up letting in some cool morning air. Then she carefully closed the shutters again; Marianne couldn’t bear the light when she was ill.
*
Jane and Annie were so busy taking care of her that neither ventured downstairs until late morning. By then Marianne had fallen asleep and Jane was free to go down to explain to Mrs Sampson. She discovered a note had come from Lady Ashton. Annie went to the kitchen to fetch a jug of freshly made lemonade. They both received unpleasant and shocking news.
Jane knew Mrs Sampson to be in the morning room so went to find her. She knocked and received a decidedly frosty command to enter. Mrs Sampson did not smile or invite her to be seated.
‘Mrs Smith, I understand Miss Devenish is unwell?’
‘Yes, Mrs Sampson, she is prostrate with a sick headache.’
‘That is most unfortunate as I particularly wished to speak to her but I suppose I must speak to you instead.’ Jane waited, not liking either the tone or the expression on Mrs Sampson’s face. ‘Lady Ashton did not come last night because she has no desire to be associated with Miss Devenish and neither for that matter, do I. Word is all over London about Miss Devenish’s scandalous behaviour both in Bath and Essex.’
Jane pokered up. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Sampson, but I will not hear ill being spoken of Miss Devenish. She is an innocent girl and whatever you have heard is without substance.’
Mrs Sampson’s smile was thin. ‘So, Miss Devenish did not take drives in the country alone with Sir James Russell and then when he offered for her refuse to accept him?’
‘He never offered for her but if he had she would not have taken him. The man is a rake of the worst kind,’ Jane snapped.
‘As I thought. You are not denying Miss Devenish behaved improperly. And Essex - the same again? She allowed one Sir Theodore Devenish to take liberties and then refused his offer of marriage and came here?’
Put so starkly and with no room for explanation this was hard to deny. ‘I repeat, madam, Miss Devenish is an innocent young woman who was shamefully used by Sir Theodore.’
‘Then why, might I ask, did she not accept his offer?’
Jane could not say, the secret was not hers to tell.
‘As soon as Miss Devenish is well I wish her to leave this house. And until she does I shall require her to remain in her room. I will have trays sent to her. That will be all, Mrs Smith.’
Her darling Marianne was sleeping upstairs quite unaware that someone had released upon the polite world a full and well embellished version of events. Her reputation was gone, even her status as an heiress was not enough to save her from disgrace. Jane left the morning room and almost ran back down the corridor. She met Mr Sampson in the hall.
‘Ah, Mrs Smith, a word, if you please, it is important. Come to my study.’
Jane followed him. ‘This is a sad day, indeed it is. I would not have Miss Devenish leave here like this but it is Mrs Sampson’s decision and I do not interfere in domestic matters.’ He gestured at a chair and Jane sat. ‘However, my man was approached by chance yesterday by someone who has a property in Hertfordshire that will be ideal for your purposes. The owner is prepared to let Miss Devenish move in before the lease is signed and as we speak the house is being prepared for your arrival.’
‘That’s lucky, sir, for we have nowhere else to go.’
‘I shall sign the necessary papers as soon as they are prepared and send a copy down to Miss Devenish. I have not visited the place and neither has my man but any port in a storm, eh, Mrs Smith?’
‘Yes, sir. I will organize the packing and we will be ready to depart first thing tomorrow.’ She frowned. ‘But we have no male staff to accompany us. It would be inappropriate whatever the circumstances for Miss Devenish to travel unescorted.’
‘The estate comes fully staffed, Mrs Smith, did I not say? I will send two grooms, they may return when your men arrive. I will of course send Master Edward and his servants to you as soon as they return.’
‘What about Annie? Can she stay with us?’
‘Yes, Mrs Sampson is agreeable to letting her go; we don’t wish to appear unkind.’ He stood up. ‘I will speak to Miss Devenish myself before she leaves tomorrow.’
*
Marianne slept the clock round and even the sound of packing did not rouse her. She finally sat up, her headache gone but not quite recovered. She stared around the room with growing dismay. Where were her things? Her knickknacks, her travelling desk, her combs and brushes?
She pushed back the cover and stood up. Her head spun a little but she decided she was well enough to leave her bed. Even her ormolu mantle clock had vanished so she had no notion of the time. There was sunlight so it must be past dawn, but whether five of the clock or seven she could not tell.
She opened the door that connected her bedchamber to her dressing room. She swayed and clutched the frame in shock for there, neatly strapped, stood her trunks. What had happened in the last twenty-four hours? Why was she leaving when she had only just arrived?
Feeling sick again she stumbled back into her room and finding the bell-strap jerked it several times. She didn’t care what the time was, she needed an explanation.
She was tempted to creep back under the covers, to hide away, but restrained the impulse. Instead she sunk onto the chaise-longue and waited. Ten minutes dragged by before she heard footsteps in the dressing-room. Jane entered, Annie close behind her.
‘Oh, miss, I’m so glad you’re up. I have dreadful news for you I’m afraid. We have to leave here as soon as you’re ready.’
Marianne steadied her breathing. ‘Why have I to leave here, Jane? Tell me the rest, please.’
Jane wrung her hands. ‘Someone has been spreading gossip, miss. It’s all over Town, what happened in Bath and what happened in Great Bentley. Mrs Sampson will not have you here; your name is blackened beyond redemption.’
‘I see. Then where are we to go? I cannot go back to Frating Hall, they don’t want me there either.’ Her voice cracked and Jane went forward to offer what comfort she could. Marianne raised her hand, warning her off.
‘Mr Sampson has managed to secure the lease of a furnished and staffed property in Hertfordshire no more than a few hours’ drive from here. It’s what you intended to do, we’re just removing from Brook Street a trifle sooner than expected, that’s all.’
‘I see,’ Marianne said a second time, but she didn’t, not really.
Annie fetched her travelling outfit and laid it across the bed. ‘Will I go down fetch a tray up, Mrs Smith? Miss Devenish hasn’t eaten for ever so long.’ Marianne was about to refuse
but realized it wouldn’t help to swoon from lack of sustenance.
‘Ask for two footmen to come up and collect these trunks as well. I wish you to travel with the baggage cart, Annie, then you can get things sorted before we arrive.’
‘Yes, Mrs Smith. How will I know which chamber to put Miss Devenish’s things in?’
‘In the best room, of course. And alert the cook and the rest of the staff of our imminent arrival.’
Marianne picked at the bread-and-butter but drank her tea with pleasure. She set her cup back loudly on the side table. ‘Good heavens! What about Edward and the boys and John? They will find us gone.’
‘Mr Sampson will send them on, never fear. And Edward is due to take the empty carriage back to Frating Hall today. Remember he knows nothing of your discovery and will be expecting to deliver the letters tomorrow night.’
‘I suppose this debacle means Edward will not be able to charge down to Great Bentley and get himself arrested.’
‘There - always a silver lining, miss, isn’t there?’
The trunks were loaded and the luggage cart departed scarcely thirty minutes later. Marianne wished she could follow and not wait upon Mr Sampson who didn’t rise until seven thirty.
Her parting interview with her host was not a happy one. Mr Sampson assured her he would be delighted to continue to represent her interests, if she so wished. She did - she had no one else to ask.
‘I would like a half of my income to go to Lord and Lady Grierson, can you make sure that happens, Mr Sampson?’
‘Of course, if that’s what you want. There is more than enough to run your modest household on what remains. If there’s nothing more, I will bid you God speed, Miss Devenish, and we must pray in a few years all this will be forgotten and you will be free to rejoin society.’
One of the grooms from Brook Street was designated to ride Sultan, the other joined the coachman on the box. Marianne left with no one to wave her farewell. She tried to rest but the rattle and judder of the carriage as it travelled over the cobbles made this impossible.
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