The Honourable Earl

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Mama, I forgot to buy some yellow ribbon when I was in Chelmsford yesterday. May I ask Partridge to take me back this morning?’

  ‘You can buy ribbon in London, dear, and there will be far more to choose from.’

  ‘Yes, but I want this for my travelling gown and hat. I will not be gone long.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’

  When Lydia came in from asking Partridge to harness the horse, she found Annabelle in the hall putting on her blue cloak and bonnet. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Why? I am only going to buy ribbon. It will be very dull for you.’

  ‘And duller still here.’

  ‘Does Mama not want you to help her?’

  ‘No. I have asked her. Lydia, I begin to think you do not want me with you.’

  ‘Nonsense. I was only thinking of you.’

  ‘Then I shall come.’ She picked up a bulging carpet bag from the floor at her feet. ‘I want to show Caroline the lilac gown we bought yesterday.’

  ‘You could have done that yesterday when we called.’

  ‘I know. I forgot.’

  Lydia was too concerned with her own problems to think this strange and the sisters set out, with Annabelle chatting happily beside a rather subdued Lydia. How could she leave Annabelle in order to find Mr Dent without arousing suspicion?

  ‘I think it would save time if you were to call on Caroline while I search for my ribbon,’ Lydia said, as they entered the town. ‘Partridge can set us down at the Spread Eagle and he can enjoy a drink with his brother while we are gone.’ Partridge’s brother kept the hostelry in question and the horse could be looked after there too.

  ‘Oh, that is a splendid idea,’ Annabelle said a shade too enthusiastically.

  The orders were given to their old coachman; as soon as they stopped at the inn, Lydia left her sister and hurried in the direction of the centre of the town where most of the shops could be found. Once out of sight of her sister, she turned sharply left and then right and a few minutes later arrived outside Robert Dent’s house, which stood in a row facing a small park.

  She had not thought what she would do when she arrived, but now she paused, undecided. It was hardly fitting for an unaccompanied young lady to call on a bachelor, so how was she going to speak to him? Nor could she stand outside until he appeared, she did not have the time and someone she knew might see her.

  And then, by a great stroke of luck, she saw him striding towards her, evidently on his way home. ‘Mr Dent, good morning,’ she said with a smile, as he reached her.

  ‘Miss Fostyn.’ He lifted his tall buckled hat and smiled. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you here?’

  ‘I am shopping for ribbon.’ She paused. ‘And hoping for some conversation with you.’

  ‘With me?’ he queried. ‘Miss Fostyn, you are full of surprises. First I find you on the marshes at dead of night and now you arrive at my door unaccompanied and say you must speak to me. Could the two be connected, I ask myself.’

  ‘Yes, you could say they are. I have some information for you.’

  He smiled and offered her his arm. ‘Let us walk.’

  They strolled into the park, with the breeze blowing her skirts round her ankles and lifting her hat so that she was obliged to hold it on with one hand. ‘It is about the smugglers,’ she said.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Do you know who they are?’

  ‘I have a fair idea. Local men.’ He paused and turned his head to look at her. ‘Am I to understand you know more than that?’

  ‘Yes. My brother is with them.’

  ‘John? He is only a schoolboy. Oh, I see, you are appealing to me to fetch him out of the scrape he has got himself into.’

  ‘No, not John. Freddie.’

  He whistled. ‘Freddie is back? My eye, that is extraordinary news.’

  ‘You did not know?’

  ‘No, why should I?’

  ‘I thought that with you being one of the smugglers, you might have met with him.’

  ‘Did you, now?’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘But that is by the by. Why is your brother with the lawbreakers when he could be home with you? Just in time for your wedding too. It should be a happy time for everyone.’

  ‘It would be, but…’ She paused, not wishing to think about the wedding. ‘I am afraid he means to revenge himself on Ralph—I mean the Earl of Blackwater—for what he did all those years ago. I think he only means to knock him down, but I think the smugglers might take the opportunity to rid themselves of someone who is a thorn in their side.’

  ‘Oh, surely you are jesting?’

  ‘No, I am not. I am in deadly earnest.’

  ‘But if I am one of the smugglers, as you say I am…’ He paused to raise his hat to a gentleman they were passing. ‘You do not suppose I am about to put a bullet or a knife into him, surely?’ he went on, when the man was out of earshot.

  ‘No.’ Put like that it did seem fanciful. ‘You would not condone murder, would you? Lord Latimer was your friend and I believe he still is.’

  ‘True, but I thought you had no love for him.’

  ‘I didn’t. I don’t.’ She felt the colour flare into her cheeks and hoped he had not noticed her slip. ‘But I could not live with myself if I was party to him being…’ She shuddered and could not go on.

  ‘What do you want me to do, Miss Fostyn?’

  ‘Why, prevent it, of course.’

  ‘Not easy,’ he murmured. ‘Not easy.’

  ‘But you will try? Oh, please say you will try.’

  ‘When and where is this to take place?’

  ‘Tonight. In his lordship’s wood. There is a cottage in a clearing. I am supposed to lure his lordship there by telling him I know the smugglers will be moving the contraband from there at midnight.’

  ‘Can you not simply warn his lordship?’

  ‘No. He might call the revenue men in and Freddie might be arrested. Don’t you see, I cannot betray the men, not even the Frenchman, because they will guess it was Freddie who gave their hiding place away. It has to be you.’

  ‘Frenchman?’

  ‘Yes, he came in on the boat with the contraband.’

  ‘My, you have been busy. What else do you know?’

  ‘I know there was also one called Gaston who has disappeared and they think the revenue men have taken him.’ She paused, wondering whether to tell him of the package she had found, but decided against it; it might come in useful to bargain with, but on whose behalf she was not at all sure. ‘Have you heard of such a man being arrested?’

  ‘No. This Frenchman, did he return to the ship?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘A dilemma, all round,’ he said.

  ‘Will you help me, please, Mr Dent?’

  ‘Why did you not go to Sir Arthur? After all, he should be your protector. And he is nearer.’

  ‘He would not understand.’

  He chuckled suddenly. ‘I’ll wager he would not.’

  ‘Then I can rely on you?’

  He patted the hand that lay on his sleeve, before detaching it. ‘Leave it to me, Miss Fostyn. Now, I think you should go home and put it from your mind. I believe you are leaving tomorrow to stay with your sister in London?’

  ‘Yes, Annabelle is coming with me. How did you know?’

  ‘Oh, I believe Sir Arthur mentioned it,’ he said airily. ‘Give Lady Mallard my respects, will you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘We shall see her for the wedding, I expect.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He doffed his hat and bowed to her, then turned on his heel and went back the way they had come. She set off for the Spread Eagle, fully expecting Annabelle to have returned before her. But there was no sign of her sister, nor had Partridge, ensconced in the parlour with a pot of ale in front of him, seen her.

  Lydia waited twenty minutes and then with a sigh of annoyance went to the Brotherton mansion, meaning to winkle her sister out. She was
shocked to learn Annabelle had not been there and everyone was busy preparing to leave for London; the hallway was stacked with bags and boxes and two coaches stood at the door. Lydia turned away, wondering where her sister could have gone. If Caroline Brotherton had had no time to entertain her, she would have left and gone in search of her sister, supposedly buying ribbon.

  Lydia had forgotten all about the purchase which had been her excuse for coming to Chelmsford and hurried back into the centre of town to make good the omission, expecting to see Annabelle on the way. But there was no sign of her. She had not returned to the inn either.

  ‘We’ll help look for her,’ Partridge said, indicating his brother. ‘We’ll all look.’

  In a growing panic, Lydia dashed up and down the streets, poking her head into shops, peering down alleyways, calling on everyone her sister might have visited, but no one had seen Annabelle. After two hours of fruitless searching, they were forced to conclude Annabelle was not going to be easily found.

  Slowly it began to dawn on Lydia that Annabelle had meant to disappear. She had been too eager to accompany her to town and she had that carpet bag with her and there was only her word that it contained a gown she wanted to show Caroline. It probably did hold a gown and other things as well, Lydia decided, under-clothes and night clothes and the little jewellery she owned. Peregrine Baverstock had been very voluble the day before, talking of leaving by the flying stage. But why would Annabelle travel with him when she was going to London next day in any case? The answer arrived in a flash. Because they were not going to London.

  She rushed round to the inn in the market place from which the stagecoaches left and, after questioning several people who worked there, was told that yes, a young lady in a blue cloak and a velvet bonnet had boarded a coach, but it was a north-bound one and she had been alone. On being pressed, her informant insisted there was no young man. Lydia was tempted to give chase, but she knew that would be a foolish thing to do. The coach, with four fresh horses, had left over an hour before and the old Fostyn horse and carriage would never stand the pace of a chase. She could buy a ticket for the next stagecoach, but that did not leave for another four hours and her mother must be told as soon as possible. Lydia went back to Partridge and ordered him to get her home as fast as the old horse would take them.

  Anne had been pacing the floor, wondering what had become of her daughters when Lydia finally returned home, hours later than she should have been, and told her the reason. She sank back into a chair, her face paper-white. She seemed not to be able to take in what Lydia was saying, she simply sat with her head in her hands, rocking herself to and fro, too overcome to think rationally. Lydia sat beside her and put her arms round her. ‘Don’t cry, Mama, we’ll find her, we’ll fetch her back.’

  ‘Are you sure she is with Peregrine Baverstock? You don’t think she might have visited someone else?’

  ‘I thought of that and tried everyone I knew. No one had seen her.’

  ‘She could have met with an accident or been abducted, she might be lying dead somewhere—’

  ‘No, I am sure she is not dead, Mama.’ She tried to sound confident, but it was an effort when she wanted to weep as her mother was weeping. One of them must be strong. ‘And who else could she be with? You know how she has been behaving lately.’

  ‘Where have they gone?’

  ‘The coach was going to Norwich, but she could have left it at any of the stops on the way.’

  ‘It does not bear thinking of. Anything could happen. Oh, my poor baby! We have all been so busy with your wedding plans—’

  ‘And the Earl of Blackwater’s ball.’

  ‘As you say, the Earl’s ball.’ She sat up suddenly. ‘Lydia, you must go up to the Hall and enlist the help of his lordship. He will know what to do.’

  ‘Oh, Mama, we can’t ask him to help us.’

  ‘We need help and we certainly cannot appeal to Sir Arthur or any of our friends’ husbands, it will only fuel the gossip about us. The Earl is the only one I would trust to be discreet. I would go myself, but I fear I am in such a shake of nerves my feet would not carry me. And you can tell him exactly what happened. Now, put your hat back on and go to him at once.’ And, as Lydia was going out of the door to obey, added incongruously, ‘Take his umbrella back to him.’

  How funny Mama was, Lydia thought as she hurried from the room, to remember the umbrella in the midst of her distress. Nevertheless she picked it up and hurried up to the Hall, wondering how she was going to bring herself to beg for the Earl’s help after what had happened between them. Even thinking about it made her go hot all over. He might even laugh at her and send her away, telling her to sort out her own muddle. Half of her wished he would be away from home, but then who could they ask to help them? Annabelle was far more important than a few moments’ embarrassment.

  He was busy talking to a plasterer in one of the back rooms which had yet to be refurbished, but he stopped what he was doing and came forward to greet her when she followed the footman without waiting to be fetched. ‘Why, Miss Fostyn, I had not expected the pleasure of your company again so soon. You have brought me my umbrella. How kind of you.’ He took it from her and handed it to the footman. ‘Tea? Cordial? Madeira wine?’

  ‘No, thank you. I cannot stay, I must go back to Mama…’

  She looked almost distraught, her hat was awry and her big hazel eyes troubled. There were red spots of colour on each cheek and her breath was ragged as if she had been running. ‘Is something amiss?’

  ‘Yes, we need your help. You see…’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘Annabelle has disappeared.’

  ‘Disappeared? Surely not. She is probably playing hide and seek.’ He paused, suddenly serious. ‘She hasn’t gone into the wood, has she?’

  Fleetingly she remembered the smugglers and Freddie. He was the one who should be looking after the family, but he could not be reached and she wondered if he would come out of hiding even to find his sister. ‘No, no, I left her in Chelmsford.’

  ‘Mayhap she has met with a friend—’

  ‘No, we asked everywhere and searched the town very thoroughly. You see, someone very like her was seen boarding a coach. I am sure it was her.’

  ‘You mean she has run away?’

  ‘I fear so. You see—oh, dear, it is such a shameful thing to say. I think she might have gone with…with Peregrine Baverstock. They wanted to marry and his parents would not allow it…’

  ‘No, I do not suppose they would,’ he murmured. ‘Have you any idea where they would go?’

  ‘No, but the coach was going to Norwich. I am sure they would marry as soon as they could…’

  ‘Then it must be Scotland.’

  ‘Scotland! But that’s hundreds of miles away. Why would they need to go so far?’

  ‘It would be necessary if they want to do it legally.’ He shouted for the footman, who appeared almost at once. ‘Hardy, tell Garrard to harness the four best horses to the big coach and bring it to the front door and put your best rider on a good mount. I shall need him to ride ahead and arrange for fresh horses.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘And send my valet to me.’

  The man disappeared and his lordship turned back to Lydia. ‘Have you heard of Lord Hardwicke’s Marriage Act?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It became law ten years ago, just before…well, we won’t go into that again. One of its clauses outlawed Fleet marriages. They were called Fleet marriages because they were performed without banns or licences in the inns and taverns of the Fleet, especially popular among young people whose parents disapproved of their choice. But they occurred in other places too, wherever a cleric could be persuaded to perform them. The consequence of making them unlawful is that anyone wanting to marry without parental consent is now obliged to make the long journey to Scotland, where it is possible to be wed at Gretna Green by making a simple declaration.’

  ‘And that is legally binding?’

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p; ‘Yes.’ His valet appeared in answer to his summons and he turned from Lydia to order him to pack a few clothes for a few days from home. ‘Nothing lavish,’ he said. ‘I shall be travelling light. And fast.’

  ‘You are going after them?’ Lydia asked as the man went off to do his master’s bidding.

  ‘Yes, after I have checked with Lord and Lady Baverstock that their son is also missing.’

  ‘You think he might not be?’

  ‘It would be foolish to make assumptions. You did say your sister was alone when she boarded the coach?’

  ‘Yes, but I have been thinking. The coach calls at Malden and that is the nearest staging post to the Baverstock home. He might have joined her there.’

  ‘We shall soon find out. Now go back to your mother and bear her company. Do not let her become dispirited, and, please God, I shall be back in no time with your sister safe and sound.’ If his guess as to the runaways’ destination was correct, they would change from the Norwich coach to one going to Cambridge and thence to Peterborough and the Great North Road. He might, if he left immediately and if his equipage did not let him down, stop them before they managed to go any further.

  ‘Oh, thank you, my lord.’

  He regarded her with his head on one side and smiled crookedly. ‘You may thank me when I bring her back.’

  He could not refuse her plea for help, he told himself, as he hurried out to his coach, could not refuse her anything, but this latest crisis could not have come at a worse time. He had, only that morning, been to the cottage in the wood and seen the evidence of a new cargo of contraband. Brandy and wine, silks and tea, all had to be distributed and paid for and he had meant to be there when they moved it and then he would apprehend them all. Being a magistrate he could, within limits, choose how to deal with them after that: leniency for some, the Assizes for the hardened criminals. With luck he might fetch the runaways back in time but they had had several hours’ start and he was not hopeful.

  He smiled wryly as the coach passed Lydia as she went out of the gate and turned down the lane towards the dower house. At least if she was safe at home, comforting her mother, she would not be out on the marshes or blundering through the wood, where anything could happen to her.