The Marlows

by Rosalind Laker

  “Has the switch taken place?” demanded the rider.

  “Last week,” replied the other. “Bill Jemmy’s had his finger in this sort of pie before . . . all went smooth as butter . . .”

  She lifted her head, suddenly on guard. There was something extremely secret and conspiratorial about that meeting between the rider and the unseen driver of the conveyance there in the quiet night. Not wishing to eavesdrop she would have moved away out of earshot if she had not felt a paralyzing effect on her so that she scarcely dared breathe, the blade of grass drooping motionless from her finger and thumb. The rider was speaking again.

  “. . . laid heavily against him at Doncaster . . . easily done again . . . nobble for a pony any day . . .”

  The driver answered him. “That’s a chance we must take . . .worth the risk . . . four-legged imposter . . .”

  “. . . hangman’s rope or transportation.”

  The driver gave a grim chuckle. “I agree . . . by appearing not to know me you should be absolved from all suspicion, but he’s a crafty devil . . .”

  The rider wheeled his horse about, and the slight change of direction enabled her to catch every quiet word of his in the still air. “I’ll be at Newmarket with a runner of my own in March that day. It will enable me to keep an eye on things. The switched nag will be spirited away if anything goes wrong.”

  “. . . won’t be necessary.”

  “I agree. Farewell, sir. Safe journey.”

  The rider cantered off the way he had come, and the hooded carriage made a sweeping turn and departed in the opposite direction with a hiss of whip and clatter of hooves. The silence of the night descended again, broken only by the distant barking of a farm dog disturbed from its slumbers.

  She dropped the blade of grass and stood up, her heart beating uncomfortably, and she retraced her steps up the bank to the roadside. A “pony” was racing slang for twenty-five pounds. She’d heard her father use that expression often enough, and “to nobble” was to deliberately keep from winning, usually by foul means, any race horse that would interfere with bets laid on another. But those two men seemed to have a number of unsavoury racing plots afoot. Many times her father had talked in her hearing of the tricks played by rogues of the racecourse, which sullied the glorious sport of kings.

  Standing in the road, she looked after the direction that the rider had taken. Not far from where she was lay the private way that led to the gates of Ainderly Hall. But she needed no additional clues to the rider’s identity, having recognized his voice from the start. It was Dominic Reade who was preparing to put unscrupulous plans into action with the help of his unknown confederate when the flat-racing season was launched at Newmarket in the spring again. The fact that she had been right after all, no matter the original cause, to put up whatever barriers she could between Dominic and herself gave her no satisfaction. It was too sorry a state of affairs.

  Putting her hands over her ears as though at this late stage she might block out what she had heard, she hastened homeward and wished that on this particular night she had not stirred beyond the bounds of Rushmere. The only good to come out of it was that the decision about Roger’s future had been made for her. There was no question now of allowing him to withdraw his promise. The stables at Ainderly Hall were no place for him. Not when the owner of the stud was involved in the kind of dangerous racecourse dealings that led at times to violence and even death.

  5

  Tansy was coming downstairs when Nina happened to hurry across the hall to answer the doorbell. A young woman in a tan calling costume, her bell-shaped crinoline in the new and fashionable width, and her bonnet trimmed with curling feathers, stood on the doorstep. She was tall, graceful, and confident, having a polished, well-bred look to her porcelain beauty, and from a centre parting her hair showed glossy and smooth as black paint.

  “Good afternoon,” she said in a clear, high-pitched voice, giving Nina a narrow little smile. “I’m Sarah Taylor of Cudlingham Manor. My brother, Edward, made your acquaintance yesterday at Ainderly Hall. I know you must be Miss Nina Marlow by his description.”

  Tansy, who had been told about the meeting, saw her sister preen as she invited the visitor to step inside. Both of them turned when she reached the bottom stair and introductions took place. Amelia then appeared, paused to give a little upward flick of her hands in studied pleasure at the sight of Sarah, and came sweeping forward.

  “My dear Miss Taylor. How kind of you to call.”

  “Dear Mrs. Marlow. I trust I find you as well as you can be in present circumstances. How are you managing to bear your sad loss?”

  The conventionally sympathetic inquiry had its depressing effect, destroying the emotional uplift that the diversion of a visitor had offered. Amelia, who happened to be wearing black, immediately looked every inch the bereaved widow, her mouth becoming tremulous, her eyes pink with suppressed tears.

  “I’m scarcely able to eat or sleep,” she answered huskily and with perfect truth, “but I’ll not burden you with my troubles. Come into my drawing room. We’ll all have a glass of my elderberry wine.”

  Judith, reading by Amelia’s fire, looked up when they entered and put her book aside. Again introductions took place and when everyone was settled Tansy poured the wine for Amelia and handed round the silver biscuit barrel, which contained a selection of macaroons and ratafias. She knew Amelia’s grief to be genuine and had seen her surreptitiously wipe away a tear. But she felt decidedly less charitable when Nina, during the course of conversation, talked of their father as dear Uncle Oliver.

  Judith looked down at the glass she held to hide the pain in her eyes. Nina went on to gloss skilfully over their move to Rush-mere as if they had travelled there in a carriage, at the same time managing to convey that their previous home, which had only matched Rushmere in age, was comparable to their new one in every way.

  “Of course, our furniture was older — mostly antique,” Nina stated glibly, wanting to let Sarah know that furnishing an Elizabethan house with contemporary pieces as Amelia had done was not to her taste.

  “Never mind,” Amelia interposed vaguely on a commiserating note. “I’m sure some of it was quite pretty.”

  Sarah and Nina exchanged amused glances and hid patronizing smirks. Tansy, watching them, decided that without doubt they were two of a kind. Snobbish and self-centred. The cottage furniture had certainly been antique, but not in the way that Nina had spoken of it. It was a relief to her that she did not have to utter more than a monosyllable now and again, the two of them doing all the talking and getting on famously, and she gave her thoughts up to Roger, whom she had not seen since he had set off early that morning for Ainderly Hall to ride with the yearlings on their exercise as arranged. She was not surprised that he had not come home again afterward, knowing that he was hoping to prove himself a good enough rider in the eyes of Dominic’s trainer to be able to ask with confidence where he might stand a chance of getting taken on as a jockey. If given several addresses he was going to try all of them before the day was out. Crowning all his hopes was the longing that he would be able to ride Young Oberon on exercise the following morning or to be given a special short turn in the paddock. She knew that either of these privileges would only serve to cement his obsessional desire to be with the colt indefinitely, but if she told him — or anyone else for that matter — what she had overheard the night before he would think she was letting her imagination run riot, her acrimony toward Dominic making her misconstrue whatever had been said. There might even be doubt as to whether she had been right in identifying Dominic in the darkness. No, it was better to keep it all to herself, at least for the time being, and feel forewarned against the future.

  Like an echo to her thoughts Dominic’s name came into the conversation going on around her and she was alert at once. Nina was holding forth, once again embroidering the truth for the benefit of her new acquaintance.

  “So my brother went off at the crack of dawn to Domini
c Reade’s stables. He has his heart set on being the most famous of all the gentlemen jockeys who ride their own horses one day.”

  Sarah tapped a finger thoughtfully against her cheek. “Now I wonder if it could have been Roger whom I saw in our stableyard this afternoon before I left. Edward was talking to a boy about the age of your brother. Not very tall with fair hair. He was wearing a brown jacket, if I remember correctly, and leather gaiters.”

  “That was Roger!” Nina exclaimed.

  “I would have spoken to him had I known.”

  “Does your brother own race horses?” Tansy inquired.

  Sarah looked at her as if surprised that she should enter into the talk at this late stage, when the wineglasses had been emptied and refills genteelly refused. “Only half a dozen, but that number does include a two-year-old which has been entered for the Derby next year. It was my father who was the racing man. During his time our stables held many more, but Edward prefers to breed his own hunters, the chase being his great interest, and if we didn’t live so close to Epsom I doubt whether he would keep the race horses that he has. From what Nina has said, I should think Roger was asking Edward about his chances.”

  “Wouldn’t it be splendid if Roger could be at the Manor stables!” Nina exclaimed gushingly.

  “What is the name of the Derby entry?” Judith asked. Until now she had been as quiet as Tansy, but that was natural to her. “Wild Wind.”

  “That’s a good name,” Judith said approvingly.

  Sarah inclined her head condescendingly to show agreement. “Edward hopes to have a winner in him.” She had already decided that out of the three sisters Nina was the only one whose company she considered truly agreeable, Judith being decidedly dull and Tansy too proud-looking, her dark violet eyes showing no effusive gratitude for her graciousness in calling so soon. It was as well that Edward, who had prompted the call, giving her no peace until she had promised there should be no delay, was smitten with the best of the bunch. She turned her thin smile on Amelia, whom she despised, but whose late husband had been a gentleman born, a likable rascal not above giving her waist a squeeze at every opportunity that had presented itself. In spite of the years between them, she had found him a disturbingly attractive man, his laughter-crinkled eyes holding teasing, improper, unmentionable suggestions whenever he looked at her. Ah, well, it was too late to have any regrets now, because he was gone and no amount of wondering if she would ever have succumbed to temptation could bring him back again.

  “Mrs. Marlow,” she urged Amelia in dulcet tones, “I know you are in deepest mourning and not able yet to face the world, but would you have any objection if your three nieces came to the Manor tomorrow evening to listen to music? A most decorous gathering, I do assure you.”

  Amelia shot an uncomfortable glance at Tansy, rubbing the palms of her hands together nervously. “I should like my nieces to accept the invitation. It’s important that they should get to know people and make friends as soon as possible. Oliver always had their good at heart and would never have wanted them to sit at home in grief and sorrow on his account. He enjoyed life too much himself for that. But you must remember, Miss Taylor, that Tansy is mistress of Rushmere now. She only defers to wishes of mine through her gentle courtesy. You must ask Tansy to speak for herself and her sisters.”

  Sarah arched her neck and turned her gray-green eyes on Tansy. “What do you say? My brother will never forgive me if I take home a refusal.”

  “I thank you and your brother for inviting us, Miss Taylor,” Tansy said formally, well aware that Nina and Judith were both holding their breath apprehensively in case she should take it into her head to refuse, “and I accept for all three of us.”

  “Good!” Sarah rose to depart. “Until seven-thirty tomorrow evening then.” She kissed Amelia, bade Tansy and Judith goodbye, and let Nina see her to the door. As soon as it had closed after her Nina gave a squeak of excitement and rushed back into Amelia’s drawing room, her eyes shining.

  “I knew Edward wanted to see me again. I guessed it would be soon.”

  Judith gave a little laugh, sharing the girl’s happiness. “It does sound as though you made a hit. Sarah particularly mentioned how disappointed her brother would be if the invitation was turned down. That could only mean it’s you he wants to be there.”

  Nina nodded, laughing too, and the pink tip of her tongue curled triumphantly at the corner of her mouth. “He’s rich and unattached. Amelia told me all about him, didn’t you Amelia? Don’t worry any more about settling Papa’s debts, Tansy. I intend to do that for you — for all of us.”

  Tansy, who had been collecting the dirty glasses onto a tray, straightened up slowly. “What do you mean?”

  Nina flung out both hands expressively, “I’m going to be Mrs. Edward Taylor, Lady of the Manor of Cudlingham.”

  “Oh, Nina!” Judith exclaimed in awe of the brave boast.

  Tansy was less impressed. She picked up the tray and held it with both hands, the rim against her waist. “There’s a saying about not counting your chickens before they’re hatched,” she said dryly. “You would do well to remember that. What’s more, as I happen to be the eldest the responsibility for Papa’s debts is mine, and I want no help of the kind that you’re prepared to give. Follow your heart and not your head, Nina. I wouldn’t want any sister of mine to marry for mercenary reasons and not for love, should the possibility ever arise.”

  She made to pass Nina with the tray, but her sister blocked her way. “What makes you think I’m not in love already?”

  Tansy gave her a long look. “I know you’re not. Not yet, anyway. I believe you’re more concerned with getting me to postpone my intention to turn Rushmere into a financial proposition.”

  Amelia gave a low moan of despair. Neither she nor Nina had mentioned Tansy’s resolution since she had fled from their protests the evening before, perhaps both of them clinging to the hope that she had had time to reconsider the project and as long as they did not bring up the subject nothing more would be heard about it. Nina’s face grew taut and desperate.

  “You can’t, Tansy! A common boarding-house. For all the riffraff of the racecourse.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Tansy replied patiently. “It will be for racing gentlemen like Papa.”

  “That’s not the point. We are on the brink of being accepted into just the right circles — the kind of society that Mama always wanted us to mix with and brought us up with gentle speech and manners like her own and Papa’s to that end—and you’re set on ruining everything. Who will speak to us when it gets known that you intend to become a — a lodging house keeper? We shall be cut dead on all sides.”

  “Nina is right,” Amelia wailed. “Nobody will receive us ever again.”

  “I cannot agree with you,” Tansy said calmly. “There’s really no need for you both to get so upset. As I’ve told you already, I intend to be selective. Without Roger, and no other man in the house, I couldn’t — and wouldn’t — take in anyone of dubious

  100

  character. Rushmere will be a home away from home for distinguished gentlemen of the Turf.”

  “It will make no difference,” Nina declared fiercely. “We shall be ostracized. Not even at the cottage—poor though we were at times—did we ever have to sink to the lowly status that you are planning for yourself and us, too.”

  “There’s nothing lowly about earning an honest living,” Tansy retaliated crisply. “A paper that Amelia found for me today shows that Papa failed to keep up the mortgage payments on Rushmere. I don’t think you realize that Dominic Reade could foreclose at any time, and then what would happen? We should be homeless with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” Amelia protested frantically. “I’m sure of it. He and your father were friends.”

  “Not toward the end. Dominic admitted to me that there had been differences between them.”

  “It was only over that wretched colt. Oliver had
fallen in with someone else whom he believed could train the animal better, but I thought the man a real shyster and told your father so. However, he could be stubborn at times, and where that colt was concerned he was like a man besotted, full of fanciful dreams of the great fortune he would make on Young Oberon one day.” Her voice became choked and she took out her wispy lace handkerchief to dry her eyes again. “Poor Oliver! Oh, my poor Oliver!”

  Judith put a sympathetic hand on Amelia’s arm and received a wobbly, grateful little smile in return. Nina, impatient at the diversion in the conversation, returned to her attack on Tansy.

  “If Papa was stubborn, then so are you. Like him, you think of no one but yourself.”

  Judith spoke up with unaccustomed heat. “That’s totally unfair, Nina. Tansy is right, in wanting to secure our home and clear our debts. Whatever she decides to do I will support to the best of my ability.”

  “Our camp appears to be divided down the middle,” Tansy remarked judiciously, putting the tray aside for the time being, “but that doesn’t change anything. Roger has no say in the matter because he won’t be living at home, and as this house is mine I must do with it what I think is best. However, if either you, Nina, or you, Amelia, can come forward with any other scheme to help lift us out of debt I’m willing to listen and consider it.”