Reluctant Escort

by Mary Nichols

  ‘I advise you to do the same,’ he said to Molly, bidding her goodnight on the landing outside her room. ‘You look done in and you must not arrive in Holles Street looking not quite the thing.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, my dear.’ He was swaying on his feet. ‘Tomorrow, your journey will be over.’

  She did not know why the prospect of that depressed her. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  She rose next morning and hurried downstairs. Frank was pacing up and down the parlour with a worried frown on his face. There was no sign of Duncan.

  ‘Where is he? What has happened?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Is he worse?’

  ‘He started a fever in the night…’

  ‘Then he must have a doctor, whatever he says to the contrary.’

  ‘No, for I watched over him and the fever broke about an hour ago. He is sleeping now. I did not have the heart to wake him.’

  ‘No, let him sleep as long as he can. There is no hurry.’

  He did not agree. That Runner would tumble to the truth before long and they had to hand the evidence over to the War Department before Sir John caught up with them. Nor did he trust Bellamy to leave well alone. Duncan had tried to persuade him to go on ahead, but he would not leave him. He could only wait and hope. None of this could he explain to Molly; he had been sworn to secrecy.

  She looked at him. ‘You are exhausted, Mr Upjohn. You go and rest. I will watch over him.’

  She went to Duncan’s room and sat by his bed, watching him hour after hour, praying for his full recovery. He was breathing evenly and his colour was normal, so she was hopeful. But he must be an extraordinarily strong man to sustain a wound like that and still get up and travel for hours and then overcome a fever in so short a time. ‘Let him get well,’ she prayed. ‘And I will never provoke him again.’

  She dipped a cloth in a basin of water on the table by the bed and bathed his brow. He flung an arm out and muttered to himself but the words were unintelligible.

  ‘Hush,’ she said. ‘Rest easy. You are safe and going to get well again.’

  He opened his eyes slowly, smiling when he recognised her. ‘All this for a kiss,’ he murmured.

  She felt her face go hot. ‘It has nothing to do with that and it is unkind of you to remind me of it…’

  ‘So it is. And I beg your pardon. Perhaps I was hoping…’ He stopped suddenly.

  ‘Hoping what?’ she demanded.

  ‘Nothing. What time is it?’

  ‘Two o’clock.’

  ‘Two!’ He sat up with a jerk and winced when it hurt him. ‘We must be on our way. Why did you let me sleep so long? Leave me, girl. Let me get dressed.’

  ‘You ought to stay in bed at least another day.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish. I am perfectly well. Go on. Tell Frank to get the horses harnessed and saddled. I will join you in a few moments.’ He had flung back the bedcovers and she fled in embarrassment.

  Half an hour later, they were on their way again on the last lap of their journey. Frank had strapped Duncan’s arm to his chest so that it would not be jolted, but apart from that he would not allow anyone to help him. He was pale and obviously in pain, but pretended it was nothing. Molly began to wonder what it was that was so urgent; she was sure it had nothing to do with taking her to her mama. He had been content with their leisured pace until the day before yesterday. But she had, at last, learned when to keep silent and leave him to his thoughts, and so she sat looking out of the window at the countryside as they passed, not speaking.

  The excitement of the previous days and nights and her lack of sleep began to tell as the carriage rolled on, and, though she tried, she could not keep her eyes open. Her chin dropped and her head lolled. Duncan put his good arm round her shoulders and, with a little sigh, she nestled her head against his chest and slept.

  For mile after mile he cradled her head, not even moving when his arm went numb. A little cramp was a small price to pay for her proximity, for the sweet smell of her hair in his nostrils, for her innocent trust. He would savour it while he could, for in a few hours he must relinquish her.

  It was dark when the carriage pulled up outside the house in Holles Street and he woke her gently. ‘We are here, Molly.’

  She sat up with a start and tried to straighten her bonnet which was askew over one ear. ‘Oh, dear, have I been asleep?’

  ‘Yes. Come, we have arrived.’

  ‘Already?’ She peered out of the coach window at the house. There was a lighted flambeau at either side of the door and a light in an upper window, which was a relief for she had suddenly wondered if her mother might be from home.

  He jumped down to open the carriage door and let down the steps, showing very little sign of his injury, except for the sling which held his arm to his chest. He held out his good hand to her, smiling reassuringly. ‘Come, my dear, let us surprise your mama.’

  Leaving Frank and Martha to wait with the carriage, he took her elbow to escort her to the door and knocked firmly. A moment later, the door was opened by a manservant who stared at him in surprise as if he had been expecting someone else.

  ‘Please tell Mrs Benbright her…’ Duncan stopped. ‘No, tell her there is someone who urgently wishes to speak with her.’

  ‘Mrs Benbright is preparing to go out.’

  ‘She will see me. I have come from Stacey Manor with a package for her.’

  Molly, who had come up behind him, chuckled at this, but he reached back and took her hand, squeezing it so she lapsed into silence.

  ‘Your name, sir?’

  ‘Stacey.’

  The man knew the name of Stacey, for who in London did not know of the Earl of Connaught and his pretty Countess, though they had never graced the portals of Holles Street before this, it being on the unfashionable side of Oxford Street? Why they should choose to come visiting at this hour, it was not his place to enquire, though his curiosity was almost eating him alive.

  He conducted Duncan and Molly to the withdrawing room, where he left them to go in search of Mrs Benbright. Duncan stationed himself in front of the firescreen, while Molly wandered about the room looking at the furnishings and ornaments.

  There were two sofas upholstered in green brocade which matched the curtains at the long windows. Several small tables were set against the walls upon which were arranged small china ornaments. There were several high-backed chairs with spindly legs and, in an alcove, a shelf full of books, which was a surprise to Molly, for she had never known her mother to read anything but the Lady’s Magazine and the Ladies’ Monthly Museum which were full of gossip, fashion and serialised novels. She was inspecting the titles when the door opened and her mother came into the room.

  Molly’s first impulse was to run to greet her, but the sight which met her eyes made her stop where she was. Harriet was dressed in costume. Her pink gown had the most enormous hooped skirt which was caught up at intervals with ribbon bows, revealing a pale blue satin underskirt, white stockings and red satin shoes. The bodice of rose-pink and amber stripes was so tight, Molly wondered how she could breathe. Indeed, she must have been having difficulty in the direction because she almost fell out of the low décolletage with every rise and fall of her bosom.

  She was wearing a white wig of gigantic proportions interlaced with ribbons, beads and feathers over her dark hair and there was a great deal of jewellery round her neck and upon her arms and fingers. A lace handkerchief peeped from the end of her ruffled sleeves and a quizzing glass and a fan dangled from her wrist.

  ‘Tony!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is it really you? I thought when Perrins said it was Stacey he meant the Earl.’

  ‘I thought you might,’ he said, moving forward lazily to take her hand and bow over it.

  ‘They said you were dead. We all believed you were dead.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You have given me quite a turn. I declare I shall have to sit down.’ She fell into a chair and began vigorously fanning herse
lf. ‘Where have you been all this time? What have you done to your arm?’

  ‘A slight accident, no more.’

  ‘Does Hugh know you’re back? Oh, what a mull that will make. Beth won’t like it by half. Oh…’ She stopped.

  Molly looked from one to the other. Clearly her mother knew the Captain very well, but why had she called him Tony? And what did her mama mean about him being dead? He looked very much alive and in command of himself.

  ‘Hugh does know and so does Beth, so you may rest easy,’ he said. ‘I ain’t here to ask you to break the news to them.’

  ‘Oh, thank heavens, for I should not like having to do that, and indeed should feel obliged to refuse. But what is to be done? Are you going to turn them out? You know they have a son?’

  ‘Yes, I know, and I have no intention of throwing them out, no intention of appearing at Foxtrees at all. I am a ghost.’

  ‘You look very substantial to me. I would go so far as to say very agreeably in countenance.’ She stopped. ‘Why are you here? Perrins said something about a package from Stacey Manor. There is nothing wrong there, I hope? Lady Connaught is not ill? Or Molly? Oh, do not tell me the tiresome child has caught measles or some such.’

  ‘No, her ladyship is in plump currant,’ he said, nodding towards Molly, who stepped away from the bookcase which had been half concealing her. ‘And so is Molly, as you can see.’

  ‘Molly!’ her mother gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Molly came forward and kissed her mother’s cheek, aware that it was heavily rouged and powdered. ‘I have come to visit you, Mama. It was so dull at Stacey Manor and the Captain was so good as to escort me here and we have had such adventures…’

  ‘Dull? Escort? Adventures?’ she repeated faintly, wafting her fan ineffectually. ‘What are you prosing on about?’ She stopped to look suspiciously at her daughter. ‘You have not run away from Stacey Manor, have you? Oh, what will her ladyship think of you, you ungrateful wretch? Tony Stacey, I am surprised at you conniving in this. I knew you for a scapegrace, but this…Have you run quite mad?’

  ‘It is not the Captain’s fault,’ Molly put in quickly. ‘He was a most reluctant escort but I persuaded him that Aunt Margaret would not mind. And now I am here he will leave me with you.’

  ‘And what am I supposed to do with you?’

  Molly was very near to tears; this was not the welcome she had hoped for. But it was her own fault; she should not have arrived unannounced. ‘I hoped you would let me stay with you,’ she said. ‘I should be no trouble. I should so like to see something of the town and go out and about with you.’

  ‘Trouble! Trouble is nothing to it. You are enough to give me a seizure, arriving on the doorstep like a stray kitten. Look at you! Such a bedraggled chit I never did see. I cannot take you out looking like that and I certainly cannot afford to tog you out.’

  ‘Captain Stacey has been so good as to provide me with a wardrobe.’

  ‘Stacey?’ She went into peals of laughter. ‘What does he know of ladies’ fashion? He is a single man and a soldier to boot.’

  ‘I think they suit me very well.’

  ‘So they might, for you will not be going out into Society…’

  ‘But, Mama…’

  ‘No more. I told you months ago that it would not be possible until next year. I explained it very carefully, so why did you have to throw away the only chance either of us will have on some cork-brained idea that I would welcome you?’

  Molly choked back a sob. ‘I should not be any trouble, Mama.’

  Duncan could stand silent no longer, though he had promised himself he would not interfere but await developments. ‘Miss Martineau, please do not distress yourself. Our arrival was untimely, that’s all. Your mama has been taken by surprise.’

  ‘That is the least of it,’ Harriet put in tartly. ‘I am going out. A long-standing engagement I cannot cancel. Nor will I for a wilful child who thinks she may order the world to suit herself.’

  ‘Madam, I would as lief leave her with a dragon as you, but it is late and I suggest you give orders for a room to be made ready for your daughter and talk about it tomorrow,’ he said. ‘No doubt your escort will be here directly…’

  The mention of her escort decided Harriet. She rang the bell for Perrins and instructed him to have Betty make up a bed for Molly in the green room. ‘Tomorrow we will decide what is to be done with you,’ she said. ‘But not before the afternoon, for I do not expect to be home much before dawn and shall sleep late.’

  Her orders had barely been given before they heard a knock on the street door and a few moments later the butler returned and announced the Marquis of Tadbury. If Harriet intended to tell Perrins to conduct him to another room to wait, she was thwarted because the gentleman himself followed the servant into the room and executed an exaggerated leg, sweeping his feather-decked hat off and bowing before her.

  He was dressed as a cavalier, with a blue satin coat and a darker blue silk sash. There were frills at his throat and at his wrists and he wore a full-bottomed curly black wig. But what surprised Molly more than his costume was the fact that, in spite of being rather portly, he was so young. Why, he was younger than Captain Stacey!

  ‘My love, you are in looks tonight,’ he said, surveying Harriet’s heaving bosom with more than a little interest. ‘I shall be the envy of the whole ton.’

  Molly’s stifled laugh betrayed her presence and he looked round in alarm to find himself being subjected to the scrutiny of two merry blue eyes and two sardonic brown ones. ‘You are not alone?’

  Harriet sighed. ‘May I present Miss Margaret Martineau? Molly, this is my friend, the Marquis of Tadbury.’

  Molly curtsied demurely, conscious of her bedraggled appearance and wishing she could have been spared the encounter until she had been able to refresh her wardrobe. She supposed that was why her mother had not introduced her as her daughter.

  He bowed. ‘Miss Martineau, your obedient. I do not think I have come across the name before.’

  ‘No, you would not,’ Harriet said quickly before Molly could reply. ‘She has lately come up from the country with my cousin, Captain Stacey.’

  Duncan inclined his head in a curt nod. ‘Your servant, sir.’

  ‘Stacey,’ the man repeated. ‘Not one of the Connaught Staceys?’

  ‘A distant connection,’ Duncan said laconically.

  The Marquis turned to Harriet. ‘I did not know you were related to the Staceys, my love.’

  ‘It is only very distant,’ she said, her cheeks flaming beneath the maquillage she wore. ‘It hardly signifies. I really think we should be leaving or Lady Bonchance will think we are not coming. It is excessively impolite to arrive after everyone has gone in.’

  ‘You are right. Let us be off. My carriage is only a pace or two down the street—couldn’t bring it to the door for the barouche standing outside. Is that yours, Stacey? Damn fine set of bloods in the shafts.’

  Duncan smiled. ‘Yes, aren’t they?’

  ‘Take them off your hands if you ever think of selling.’

  ‘I have had numerous offers for them, but they are not for sale,’ Duncan said. ‘But you have reminded me that they have been standing too long. I will take my leave of you.’

  Harriet turned to Molly. ‘Bid the Captain goodnight, Molly, and then go to bed. You look done in.’

  Molly would have liked Duncan to stay for a little while and talk to her. She was feeling confused and unhappy. Nothing was as she had expected but then when she asked herself what she had expected, she had no answer. The one she had given the Captain when he had asked the same question seemed trite and foolish.

  She smiled a little wanly. ‘Goodnight, Captain. I am much obliged for your escort.’

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips, looking into her sad little face and wishing he could put the smile back on it. ‘It was my privilege, Miss Martineau. Perhaps I may give myself the pleasure of calling on you tomorrow?’r />
  ‘Not before three o’clock at the earliest,’ Harriet put in. ‘In fact, I would as lief you did not come at all tomorrow. I shall not rise before noon, I am engaged for tea, and in the evening I go to Almack’s, and I cannot allow you to visit Molly unchaperoned.’

  ‘I am sorry, Captain,’ Molly whispered. ‘Perhaps another time?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, though he could cheerfully have strangled Harriet. She had been less than pleased to see her daughter and he would not be at all surprised if she packed her back to Stacey Manor on the next available coach. How disappointed Molly would be! She had set her heart on seeing something of London Society and finding the husband of her dreams. He was not that man, he told himself. She was looking for someone younger and more in keeping with her romantic notions.

  Having discharged his duty as the reluctant escort, he should put her from his mind. He smiled at her, a secret smile of sympathy. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’ And then he said, in a whisper only she could hear, ‘Keep your ginger up. Tomorrow, I am sure all will be well.’

  She watched him leave with her mother and the Marquis, heard the front door slam and both carriages driving away, and she was alone. She sank onto one of the sofas, realising that her mother had not offered the Captain any refreshment, nor her either, but Mama must have been so taken by surprise, the proper civilities had quite deserted her.

  She looked up when the door opened and a young woman in cap and apron came into the room. ‘I’m Betty, miss,’ she said. ‘I’m to take you to your room.’

  ‘Thank you. But I am very thirsty and a little hungry. It was a long journey…’

  ‘Bless you, miss, I thought you must have dined long ago, it being so late. There ain’t much in the house, for Mrs Benbright don’t eat in very often, but I dare say I can find some cold chicken and some bread and cheese, though I don’t think you should eat cheese late at night, miss, on account it will give you nightmares.’