On arriving at the Manor she had at first felt overawed by the way Mrs Potts had looked to her for decisions about the running of the household, but to her relief she had found a collection of old household diaries in the pretty study that had been used by Philip’s mother. She had quickly realised they contained all the information she needed. Having read them through, she knew what had to be done in each week, and sometimes on each day, of the year, and could instruct Mrs Potts accordingly.
Once downstairs she went into the Countess’s study, a small and pretty room which overlooked the east side of the house. It was from here that Philip’s mother had run the Manor when she had been alive, and as all the servants were used to the arrangement Madeline had decided to continue with it, particularly as all the household diaries, account books and other necessary tomes were kept there.
She was just looking over the proposed menus for the week when Philip walked into the room.
‘Mrs Potts told me I would find you here,’ he said.
She waited for him to continue.
‘The room is to your liking?’ he asked. ‘You have everything you need?’
He was being formally polite, as though there had never been anything but the cold arrangement of a six-month marriage between them. All the familiarity of their journey had vanished.
Try as she might to tell herself that she was grateful for it, Madeline knew that in reality she missed their former ease and companionship.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, answering him in similar vein.
‘Good. Madeline,’ he said. He stopped and then went on. ‘After all that has happened over the past few weeks I have decided to provide you with a bodyguard.’
‘A bodyguard?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Yes. There have been a number of unsettling incidents of late and I want to make sure you are safe when you go out riding on the estate.’
‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.’
She had no desire for a bodyguard; her freedom had been too hard won.
‘It was not a request,’ he said with a frown.
‘Then what?’ she asked. She spoke calmly, but her pulse was beginning to beat more quickly. She had been watched and hemmed in by her uncle in London, and she did not mean to let Philip, or anyone else, treat her in the same way. ‘An order, perhaps?’ She said it lightly, but there was an underlying edge to her voice.
‘Of course not,’ he remarked.
‘Then if it is not an order, I will decline.’ She spoke calmly but with resolution.
‘You need someone with you when you go out,’ said Philip, his voice becoming as resolute as her own.
‘I need no such thing.’
She could fell her fear rising but she fought it down.
‘Then perhaps it will be as well if you remained indoors,’ he remarked.
‘I will not be made a prisoner of,’ said Madeline, standing up. ‘I will go where I want, when I want, and neither you nor anyone else will tell me otherwise.’
‘And if you are attacked?’ he demanded ‘What then?’
‘I would rather face that possibility than have a bodyguard dogging my footsteps everywhere I go.’
‘But I would not,’ he returned.
‘Then you must accustom yourself to it, because I will not be followed under any circumstances. And now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.’
‘Work?’ he queried. ‘I didn’t bring you to Yorkshire to work.’
‘Nevertheless, it is what I intend to do. There is a ball to be arranged —’
‘Mrs Potts can do that.’
‘Mrs Potts needs a mistress to guide her.’
‘I see you are determined,’ he said icily.
‘I am.’
‘Then I will leave you to your own devices,’ he said angrily.
He strode over to the door.
‘Philip.’
He turned.
‘Try to understand. I was hemmed in constantly by my uncle. I cannot be put under guard again.’
‘You have made your position perfectly clear,’ he said, before walking out of the door.
Leaving Madeline to wonder whether she had been a fool.
There had been dangers in London and on the journey north, she could not deny it. But surely those dangers had not followed them here?
She found herself glancing apprehensively out of the window, as though she expected to see a group of masked men bursting out of the avenue of trees, but nothing happened.
Of course not. The idea was ridiculous.
And telling herself to stop being fanciful, Madeline turned her thoughts back to the many things that needed her attention. There was the ball to be organised, and the preparations to be made for Emma’s visit, for Philip’s sister was due to visit the Manor for the summer holidays. And then there were a hundred and one other everyday affairs to be seen to.
Quite enough to do, without imagining further threats from masked men and mysterious break-ins, Madeline told herself.
And sitting down once more at her desk she began to make a list of things she needed to do.
And why did I handle that so badly? Philip asked himself as he strode out to the stables and saddled his horse.
But he knew why. It was because Madeline was becoming increasingly important to him, and he couldn’t bear to think of her being in danger. He had tried to fight it, the knowledge that, far from being an encumbrance who bored him with her idle chatter, as he had supposed she would be, Madeline was an intriguing and desirable young woman who set his blood on fire. But it was no use.
What then? Did he mean to overset all his plans?
Of course not. The notion was ridiculous. It was not as though he was in love with her. There might have been a reason to question his choices if that were the case. But as it was . . .
He rode out of the stable yard, and as he made for the open moorland he determinedly put all thoughts of Madeline out of his mind.
The following week passed quickly for Madeline. Together with Mrs Potts, she put preparations in hand for the ball. Although it was still some way off there was much to be organised, and the invitations had to be written and sent out in good time. In addition, she saw that Emma’s room was cleaned and made ready for the young girl’s visit.
At the end of the week, Philip said to her at dinner, ‘I have to go in to York tomorrow. I have instructed Mr Greer to ready a number of houses for you so that you can choose the one you would like as your future home.’
Madeline had almost forgotten about the house in York. It had been part of her agreement with Philip that he would provide her with a house once their marriage had run its course, and it seemed he meant to keep to his promise.
She listened with interest as Philip outlined the houses he had chosen for her to see, but instead of looking forward to seeing them she found that, for some reason, she was dreading it. She did not know why that should be. To have a house of her own, and an income to support herself, so that she need never be in anyone else’s power again, had for a long time been her greatest desire. But for some reason it seemed to have lost its allure.
‘There are a number of houses for you to visit this morning,’ said Philip on the following day as they set out for York. ‘The first house I want you to see is in St Leonard’s Place. I think you’ll like it. It has all the modern conveniences.’
As he spoke, the carriage turned a corner and rolled to a halt. Waiting for them on the pavement was a round little man with an ingratiating smile.
‘My lord, my lady,’ he said, making a low bow as they stepped out of the carriage.
‘This is Mr Greer,’ said Philip, introducing Madeline to the manager of his York properties.
Mr Greer bowed lower still.
‘Is everything ready?’ Philip asked the little man as they went inside.
‘Yes, my lord. The house has been opened up and aired, as you instructed, and the other houses are waiting for your inspection whenever you wish to see them.’ He turne
d to Madeline ‘This way, my lady.’
Together they looked over the house in St Leonard’s Place. It was newly built and, as Philip had said, it had all the most modern conveniences. But for some reason Madeline did not take to it.
‘What do you think of it?’ asked Philip, as Madeline completed her inspection of the house.
‘It’s very nice,’ she said.
Catching her tone of voice he said, ‘But not the house for you. Never mind. It’s only the first one on the list.’
They spent the morning looking at a number of other houses dotted around the city, until at last they came to the final one.
‘This is a delightful house for you, if I may say so, my lady, when you want to spend a few days in York without the bother of going back to the Manor every day,’ gushed Mr Greer.
That was the reason that had been given to the manager for showing Madeline round a selection of houses: that the Earl and his wife wanted a base in York, so that they could attend concerts or balls without having to face a long drive back to the Manor afterwards.
The house was indeed delightful. It was rather small, but full of character. Large windows flooded the rooms with light, and there was even a distant view of the Minster. But although it was delightful, Madeline had no desire to live there.
‘You don’t look very happy,’ said Philip as they completed their inspection of the house and went out to view the colourful garden. ‘Do you not like it?’
‘It’s charming,’ said Madeline, feeling that she was being ungrateful and trying to sound delighted.
‘But?’ asked Philip.
‘But . . . do I have to decide today?’ she asked suddenly.
Philip looked at her searchingly and then, as if reading at least a part of her feelings, said, ‘No, of course not.’ He turned to the manager. ‘Thank you, Greer. We will let you know when we have made up our minds.’
‘Very good, my lord.’ The little man bowed them outside.
‘And now,’ said Philip, ‘I suggest we go for lunch.’
Lunch was taken in a private parlour at the Black Swan Inn. The inn, with its half-timbering, was an interesting one and the food was excellent. Madeline and Philip chose plain yet well-cooked fayre: a dish of soup, a rib of beef, and a light syllabub for dessert. Then, much refreshed, they decided to take a walk down to the river.
Hardly had they reached it, however, when Madeline heard a cry of ‘Philip!’ and turning round she saw a young man hurrying towards them.
The young man had soft dark curls and magnificent clothes. He was dressed in the height of fashion, although to Madeline his dandified clothes looked slightly ridiculous. His shirt points were so high they must have made turning his head difficult, and his yellow pantaloons were garish, whilst his colourful waistcoat seemed to contain every colour of the rainbow. Still, he looked to be good-humoured, and Philip seemed pleased, rather than otherwise, to see him.
‘Stuart!’ he said.
‘What a stroke of luck, bumping into you like this!’ said the young man.
‘Madeline, may I introduce my cousin, Stuart?’
‘So this is the lovely Madeline,’ said Stuart, bowing over her hand.
‘What brings you to York?’ asked Philip, as Stuart seemed disinclined to let go of Madeline’s hand.
‘Oh, this and that. Business, you know,’ said Stuart cheerfully, as he pulled his eyes away from Madeline.
‘Business?’ Philip raised one eyebrow. ‘What kind of business?’
‘Oh, one thing and another,’ said Stuart vaguely. ‘But I see you’re all set for a walk by the river. Splendid! I was just going to take a stroll myself.’
‘How long are you staying in York?’ asked Philip as the three of them walked on together.
‘Oh, a while, I dare say,’ said Stuart breezily. ‘Nothing to get back to town for, you know. It’s so much pleasanter up here in Yorkshire in the summer. By the way,’ he said casually, ‘Aunt Honoria asked me to send you her love.’
‘You’ve seen Aunt Honoria?’ asked Philip in surprise.
Madeline had the feeling that it was unusual for the young man to visit his aunt.
‘Why not? I get out there now and again, you know,’ said Stuart; though he seemed a trifle uncomfortable as he said it.
‘And how did you find her?’
‘Oh, as well as ever. I must say, she does ever so well. Never seems to get any older. Bright as a button.’ He gave a strangely self-satisfied smile. ‘She tells me you’re holding a ball,’ he added conversationally. ‘I must say I think it’s a good idea. That way everyone can meet Madeline and welcome her to the Manor,’ he said with a bow in Madeline’s direction.
‘That’s right.’ Philip’s voice did not sound encouraging.
‘When is it?’ asked Stuart casually.
‘Oh, not for some time. These things take a while to arrange.’
‘I dare say I’ll still be around,’ said Stuart carelessly.
There was a pause. But before it could become uncomfortable Philip said, ‘You’ll be welcome, of course.’
‘Good,’ said Stuart heartily. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Stuart entertained them with stories of the Regent’s latest extravagances, until at last Philip said, ‘Time for us to be getting back.’
‘And I must be going, too. I’ve got an appointment with my tailor. It was good to meet you, Madeline,’ he said, taking her hand again as he made his farewells; and once again she was conscious of a certain inexplicable tension in Philip as Stuart held on to her hand for a moment longer than necessary. And then they parted.
‘He seems like a pleasant young man,’ said Madeline cautiously as she and Philip made their way back into town.
‘Does he indeed,’ said Philip darkly. Then, seeming to remember himself, he said, ‘But now, you will be wanting to collect your riding habit. I will take you to Miss Silverstone’s and then I must attend to my own business affairs before we return to the Manor.’
Once arrived at the modiste’s, Madeline was pleased to discover that her clothes were progressing well. Her ball gown would need only one more fitting and her riding habit was all but finished. It only needed the last of the trimmings sewing on and then it would be delivered the following day.
Philip soon rejoined her and then, their errands done, they set out for home.
The distance between York and Stonecrop was a comfortable one. They had a pleasant drive through the Yorkshire countryside before turning in between the imposing gates that marked the entrance to the Manor. Madeline was just thinking with satisfaction of her new riding habit when the peace of the afternoon was shattered as a loud shot rent the air.
‘What the -?’ exclaimed Philip.
Madeline looked at him in alarm. But there was no time to worry about the shot, because they had a much more immediate problem. The horses had taken fright at the sudden noise and the coach began to sway as the animals bolted. Madeline clasped the leather strap that hung from the carriage roof and hung on as they went faster and faster, with the coach lurching from side to side. She heard the cries of the coachman as he called out to the horses in an attempt to steady them and then Philip, bracing himself against the side of the carriage, pulled her roughly towards him, enfolding her in his arms, as he said through clenched teeth, ‘We’re going over.’
Madeline felt the carriage turning onto its side, and felt Philip’s arms closing more tightly about her as he shielded her with his body. There was an almighty bump and she felt herself thrown as the carriage rolled over. The world seemed to turn upside down; and then . . . calm.
‘Are you all right?’ Philip, thrown on top of her by the accident, raised himself on his elbows and looked down at her in concern. ‘Madeline?’
‘Y . . . yes.’ She recovered her wits, which had been badly shaken, and said more definitely. ‘Yes.’
‘We need to get out of the carriage. It could roll over again.’ He looked up at the carriage door, which was now on the
roof, as he spoke, and reaching out one hand he hauled himself up until he could open it. Then, pulling himself out, he braced himself against the side of the carriage and lifted Madeline out after him.
‘The coachmen . . . ’ she said.
Philip glanced briefly at the men, who had been thrown clear, and who were even now catching and calming the terrified horses. ‘They’re all right,’ he said. He called one of them over to him. ‘See the Countess safely back to the Manor, Bates,’ he instructed the man. Then, turning to Madeline, he went on, ‘I’ll join you shortly.’
Without waiting for her to reply he caught one of the carriage horses. Removing enough of its harness and trappings to make it fit to ride he threw his leg over its back and galloped off in the direction of the shot.
Madeline felt a touch of fear as she watched him go. She did not know exactly what had just happened but she suspected it had something to do with Philip’s friend; the spy.
‘Don’t worry, my lady,’ said the elderly coachman. ‘The Earl knows what he’s doing. It’ll take some time to right the carriage,’ he went on, shaking his head as he looked at the overturned vehicle. ‘Will you wait here until we’ve managed it, or shall I send to the Manor for your mare, my lady?’
‘No.’ Madeline shook her head. ‘It isn’t far.’ She glanced at the Manor, which was no more than half a mile away. ‘I’ll walk.’
‘Very good, my lady,’ he said, preparing to walk with her.
‘I’ll be perfectly all right by myself,’ she said. If a gunman was really on the loose then an unarmed escort would not be of any help against him, and the coachman was needed to help catch the remaining horses and right the carriage.
‘The Earl said —’
‘The shot was fired well away from the house,’ Madeline said, looking behind her to the open moorland from where the sound had come. ‘I will not be in any danger. You are needed here.’
The coachman looked dubious.
‘You have your instructions,’ said Madeline, injecting a note of authority into her voice. ‘See to the carriage and the horses.’
The man hesitated for the merest instant before touching his hat and saying, ‘Yes, my lady.’
The Six Month Marriage Page 10