Amanda Scott

by Madcap Marchioness

  “Then you will no doubt disapprove of the mode of transport I employed from Thunderhill to Brighton, Sarah. I came on a free trader’s ship, and Mr. Flood met me on the clifftop when we’d made landfall and drove me to your doorstep.”

  “Free traders!” Sarah was shocked. For some moments, in fact, she was rendered speechless, and when she opened her mouth at last, she had to close it again when the door opened to admit the footman and a maidservant with a tea tray.

  “Mr. Porson, knowing your ways, m’lady, had already ordered tea,” William said, moving to take Adriana’s cloak and gloves.

  Blinking in bewilderment at the untimely interruption, Sarah recovered her wits long enough to say, “Pray bring Lady Chalford some food, too, Liza. She has not broken her fast this morning.”

  “Toast and jam will suffice,” Adriana said, eyeing her friend with undisguised amusement.

  “Yes, m’lady. At once.” The maid stared at her for a moment until recalled by a small noise from the footman, whereupon she flushed and hurried out.

  Adriana waited until William, having informed her that she would find her things in the blue bedchamber, and having ascertained from his mistress that nothing more was wanted, left the room before she said, laughing, “Your maidservant seems to disapprove of me. She is new, is she not?”

  “She is, but that is not why she stared, Dree. Have you chanced to look at yourself in a mirror?”

  “No, how should I have done so?” Adriana inquired, sitting and pouring out a cup of tea for herself and another for Sarah as though she were in her own house. In point of fact, so familiar was she with every house Sarah had ever lived in that it was nearly the same thing. “Do I look a disgrace?”

  Sarah burst into laughter, reaching to find a chair and sitting as though her knees were too weak to support her. “Oh, Adriana, one would think you still fourteen, instead of nearly two-and-twenty. Remember when you rode by yourself to watch the sunrise at Avebury Circle?”

  “It was the summer solstice. I thought there would be something to see. How angry Papa was, to be sure, but I had asked him, you know, and he had said I might go one day.”

  “He hadn’t meant that day, however, or that you should go alone. You ought to have been here for the donkey races, you absurd creature. How you would have enjoyed them!”

  “So Sally wrote,” Adriana said. “I wish I had been here.”

  “Well, you are here now, and you have not explained how that comes about. If you have not run away from Chalford, how is it that you took passage on a sailing vessel of dubious repute? And of greater import than that, are we to anticipate the arrival of a furious husband? I need hardly tell you that Mortimer will be displeased if such a thing as that should come to pass.”

  “Oh, no, I am persuaded that there is nothing to fear from that direction. Chalford has no violent temperament. He is as placid and kind as … as a sheep. Really, Sarah, I am all out of patience with the man.”

  “Dear me.” Sarah fell silent again when the door opened to admit the maidservant with Adriana’s toast and jam on a silver tray, but when the maid had gone, she continued as though there had been no interruption, “I cannot think what ails you, Adriana. You knew what Chalford was when you married him.”

  “I hardly knew him at all,” Adriana protested. “Indeed, I sometimes think I know him no better now.”

  “Don’t equivocate. You know precisely what I mean. You knew Chalford for an obliging gentleman of amiable temperament. I believe you described him as ‘self-possessed’ and ‘mild of manner.’ You said nothing about sheep then that I can recall.”

  Thoughtfully, Adriana spread jam on a piece of toast. “I don’t know how it is,” she said at last, “but there is something about that mildness that makes me want to shake him, particularly when he issues arbitrary orders and simply assumes everyone will obey them. I get so angry. You know my wicked temper, Sarah, but I can control it with Alston, who is not mild of manner. Chalford has only to say that things must be as they are to stir the coals. He never argues. One time I became so frustrated with his calm manner that I actually flew at him with my fists, and all he would do was to catch my wrists and tell me I must not resort to violence.” She grimaced at the memory. “I can tell you, Sarah, I felt prodigiously like murdering him after that.”

  “And so you ran away rather than murder him? How considerate of you, dearest.”

  Adriana’s gloomy expression promptly cleared and she laughed. “Is that how I made it sound? No, I didn’t run away. That particular episode wasn’t even what induced me to leave. I wanted to come to Brighton to see everyone, and Chalford has positively interred himself in that castle of his. You saw how proud he is of Thunderhill when you were there? Well, I decided it was going to take a charge of gunpowder to blast him out, and I didn’t wish to wait for that, so when I got fed to the teeth at last, I came to you on my own.”

  “You mean for him to come after you, and that’s the truth of the matter,” Sarah said flatly.

  “Is it?” Adriana considered that viewpoint as she smeared jam on another piece of toast. “Perhaps you are right. I truly had not thought that part of it through. Indeed, I scarcely thought any of it through. Had our coachman not had the forethought to arrange for Mr. Flood, I should have had no means of getting to this house from the clifftop.”

  “Your coachman knows of this start? Good God, Adriana—”

  “Oh, he is one of the smugglers,” Adriana explained.

  “One of the smugglers! Your own coachman?”

  “Indeed, they are all of them in it in one way or another. Even Chalford does not seem to know how many of his servants are in league with the Gentlemen. So long as they do their work at the castle, he pays no heed to what else they do. I was as astonished as you are, but smuggling is quite the thing in Kent—or here in Sussex, as well, for that matter.”

  “I find it difficult to credit that Chalford does not know.”

  “Well, he may know, of course, but since it is his habit to keep most of his thoughts and feelings to himself, his people, most fortunately for me, all think they have kept it dark. Thus, when I threatened to betray them to him, they agreed to do as I asked, which was to bring me here aboard a smuggling ship.”

  “Adriana, you are a menace. I believe your whole purpose is to discover the limits of what Chalford will tolerate. Your brother will say you deserve to be whipped, and for once I almost believe I agree with him.”

  “I hope you do not see much of Alston and Sophie,” Adriana said, ignoring the rest of Sarah’s statement. “I have no wish to listen to his upbraidings.”

  “Well, unless you mean to stay hidden indoors, in which case I fail to understand why you came to Brighton at all, you will see him. The town is thin of company, so if you go out, there will be no crowds to conceal you. People will begin to arrive at the end of the week for Prinny’s birthday on Monday, but I doubt that even then you can avoid your family. You certainly cannot mean to stay hidden from Miranda; she visits me every day. In fact, she is coming this afternoon. She will find it difficult to avoid mention at home of your presence here.”

  “I’d not ask her to do that,” Adriana said. “I shall just have to make the best of things, I suppose, and trust Alston to have washed his hands of me now that I am Chalford’s wife.” She yawned. “I’ll tell you what, Sarah. If you can keep them all at bay long enough for me to get some sleep, I’ll be a deal more capable of behaving sensibly. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  Sarah leapt to her feet. “Then not another question will I ask you,” she said, pulling the bell. “You will go straight upstairs and I shall give orders that you are not to be disturbed until you ring. And my Lettie will attend you then. I daresay she will scold you for coming off without Nancy—”

  “Not so much as Nancy will scold when I return,” Adriana said with an amused grimace. “That is another detail I didn’t think through. She will forget her place entirely. I think I would rather hear what Als
ton has to say than listen to Nancy.”

  “Well, get you gone for now, my dear. Take her ladyship to the blue room, Liza,” she said to the maidservant, “and see that she has whatever she needs. She is going to rest.”

  In less than a quarter-hour Adriana was out of her wrinkled travel dress, tucked up, and sound asleep in the comfortable blue bedchamber overlooking Lord Clifford’s tiny back garden. She slept undisturbed, and when she awoke, it was nearly three o’clock. Ringing for Sarah’s tirewoman, she accepted that bustling dame’s assistance, freshened herself with the aid of a pitcher of cold water and a basin, and changed into one of the frocks she had brought with her—a sprig muslin round gown that had been pressed and hung up—and a pair of light-blue sandals. Then, when Lettie had brushed her hair into a neat pile of curls atop her head, she hurried downstairs to the drawing room, overlooking the street, where she knew she would find Sarah.

  Her hostess was not alone. Miranda jumped up from her place on the claw-footed, green satin sofa and ran to greet her sister. “It has been all Sarah could do to keep me from going upstairs to roust you out of your bed!” she exclaimed. “What do you mean by coming to Brighton without so much as a word to me?”

  Adriana laughed. “I didn’t know when I was coming. Indeed, I decided to come only a few days ago. Did Sarah tell you?”

  Sarah said, “I wasn’t certain how much I ought to say.”

  Adriana frowned. “I never thought. I did promise to keep silent about my voyage.”

  “Voyage?” Miranda stared. “You came by boat? Sarah did tell me you came without Chalford, but surely you did not take his boat, Dree, without his leave. He will be furious. You ought to have thought about the consequences to his captain.”

  Adriana laughed. “How unlike you, Randy, to consider consequences, but there will be none of that nature, for it was not Chalford’s boat. You must say nothing of this to Alston, or indeed to anyone. If I did not know I can trust you to keep your tongue between your teeth, I would not tell you at all, for the safety of a number of persons might depend upon our silence.”

  Miranda’s eyes widened. “Goodness, Dree, what have you done? You know I shan’t say a word to Alston.”

  “Or to anyone,” Adriana insisted.

  “Very well. Tell me.”

  “Free traders brought me to Brighton. We had to outrun a revenue cutter, and it was the most exciting thing imaginable.”

  “Good gracious,” Miranda said, awed. “Were you not afraid of them, Dree? I would have been terrified. Surely, they were rough, dangerous men.”

  “Oh, pooh,” said Adriana. “They were men, that is all. There was no reason to fear them. Indeed, they were very kind to me and took excellent care of me.”

  “They didn’t feed you, however,” Sarah put in dryly.

  “Oh, that was nothing, but I am hungry again, now that you put me in mind of it. Is there tea in that pot by your elbow?”

  “Not a drop. I shall ring for more in a trice, however.”

  Miranda said, “Even knowing nothing of the smugglers, Alston will split a seam in his new coat when he discovers you are here without Chalford. What will you tell him about your journey?”

  “Oh, if I must, I’ll say I came with friends, which is true enough. I felt they counted me a friend when the trip was done.”

  “You will not prevaricate with Chalford, however.”

  “No, but he presents no difficulties. He may be a little displeased if he actually feels impelled to come after me, but I left him a letter, explaining that I was coming to Brighton for a fortnight or so and inviting him to join me here if he found himself able to do so. He never actually forbade me to come on my own, you know, so I daresay he will not scold, even if he should come. He never does so,” she added simply.

  “I daresay you have never given him so much cause before,” said Miranda, grinning. “Did you ever ask him about my visiting Thunderhill, by the bye?”

  Adriana explained what Chalford had said about Christmas, and after her tea had been served, she revealed her more pressing needs. “I must have some clothes, Sarah. I brought little with me, as you might guess, and though I do have some money, it will not be enough, so I hope you have not outrun the constable, for I mean to borrow whatever I must.”

  “We can have the carriage out this afternoon, if you like,” Sarah said. “My dressmaker here is a most obliging woman who does not shut her doors until after six o’clock. Do you have something suitable to wear to the theater tonight? Prinny has ordered a comedy, Speed the Plow, and Mortimer wishes to attend. We have been rather dull since the crowds moved on to Lewes, and nothing has occurred to enliven or awaken us, save donkey races and a storm the whole of Saturday night. The Steyne has been deserted these past two days, and there has been little noise save the occasional braying of an ass or of a solitary cracked French horn from the petit orchestra at Donaldson’s Library.”

  “The fact is,” Miranda said, “that the regular summer residents hardly ever muster strong until the races are over and the mobocracy, as Sally Villiers calls the bourgeois element, are quite dispersed. Alston comes here for the races, of course, and cares little for crowds or anything else, including plays, I fear, but Sophie, thank heaven, convinced him that the Monday-night balls at the Castle are not to be despised.”

  “Did Alston win any money at the races?” Adriana asked.

  “Not so much as he lost,” Miranda said with a grimace. “There has been no living with him, believe me, since the outcome of the Somerset stakes was announced. Consider his elation when Houghton Lass came in the winner. Mr. Mellish’s Lady Brough, I must tell you, was the favorite in that race, so Alston thought himself very clever to have backed Houghton Lass.”

  “But you said he didn’t do well,” Adriana protested.

  Miranda and Sarah exchanged wise looks, and Miranda said, “It was reported that Houghton Lass and the horse coming in second had both run on the wrong side of the post. Controversy raged until the following day, when it was decided by the Jockey Club that his highness’s Orville had won. Only conceive of Alston’s fury when the results were announced. He fared no better with the other races, and I fear I may have made matters worse by trying his temper more than once.”

  “Particularly,” said Sarah, grinning, “when you went to the races after he had absolutely forbidden you to do so.”

  “That settles it,” Adriana said flatly. “I must avoid Alston at all costs.”

  Miranda chuckled. “Well, I cannot say I blame you, but you won’t do it. Some well-meaning tabby will inform him of your presence here within half an hour of your setting foot outside. For that matter, someone may well have seen you when you arrived, or the servants will have passed the word. Your best hope is to meet him publicly, somewhere where he may be counted upon to hold his nose in the air and not take you to task.”

  “That will only postpone the reckoning,” Sarah pointed out.

  Adriana sighed. “I will not stay hidden away like some cowardy cat. Let us visit your modiste, Sarah. I do have a gown I can wear to the theater tonight, even one that would suffice for a concert or a ball if you will lend me some jewelry, but I do not have much of anything else to speak of. I did feel I ought not to trust the free traders near my jewels.”

  Accordingly, they set out to visit the shops, and Adriana was able to order several gowns, bonnets, and other necessary articles. Lady Clifford’s modiste, Madame LaPlant, a thin, flat-bosomed Frenchwoman with a bubbling personality and an air of practicality, promised faithfully to deliver the first of these within two days’ time, and Adriana was well-satisfied.

  They dined at home, and Sarah told her husband that Adriana had accepted an impromptu invitation from friends to carry her from Thunderhill to Brighton, and that Chalford might or might not find himself free to follow her in a day or two. The amiable Lord Clifford, a tall, lanky gentleman with bony shoulders, narrow hips, and a lean face nearly always enlivened by a broad smile, took no exception to this gl
ib explanation, saying only that he was always glad to see Adriana.

  The fact that Brighton was temporarily almost devoid of entertainment made it less surprising, despite Miranda’s assurance that Alston never went to plays, that practically the first persons they saw at the theater in the New Road were Alston, his Sophie, Sophie’s brother, Claude, and Miranda herself, seated in a box opposite the Cliffords’. There was no hope of avoiding Alston’s eye. Indeed, that he had seen them the moment they entered was only too apparent.

  “Is that not your brother opposite?” asked Clifford. “Why’s the fellow glowering so?”

  “Dyspepsia,” replied Adriana promptly.

  Sarah chuckled.

  “Daresay he’s offended by the fact that you’ve chosen to stay with us rather than with him,” Clifford said comfortably. “Can’t say I like the fellow much, Adriana. Hope that don’t distress you. Oughtn’t to say such stuff, I suppose.”

  “Nonsense, sir, you may abuse Alston with my goodwill. I daresay he intends to make himself unpleasant.” She did not let her brother’s glowers overset her, however, and settled back to enjoy the play and the farce that would follow. When Miranda, on the arm of an admirer, visited their box at the second interval, she informed Adriana in an undertone that Alston had no intention of seeking her out that evening.

  “Well, the Fates be praised for that,” said Adriana.

  “He will call at Clifford House tomorrow morning instead,” said Miranda sweetly, “when he trusts he will find you at home.”

  11

  PORSON’S VOICE WAS CAREFULLY devoid of expression the following day when he entered the morning room to announce Viscount Alston’s arrival, but his countenance, when his gaze met Adriana’s, spoke volumes. She was sitting upon the French seat in the window embrasure, the latest issue of the Lady’s Monthly Museum spread open upon her lap. Sarah, at a nearby table, was writing a reply to one of her many letters.