The Byram Succession

by Mira Stables

  She had managed that very neatly, thought Tina complacently. They would be leaving Town in a week’s time and quite out of Toby’s reach if he thought to pester her about her share of the bargain. She had a sudden picture of her father’s face should she ever venture to suggest that he employ an uncouth youngster whom he would unhesitatingly describe as the scum of London’s kennels. It was so comical that she almost laughed aloud. The only nuisance lay in the fact that she would be obliged to patronise another livery stable next season. But perhaps by then she would be a married lady. The courage and calmness that she planned to display could not fail to impress his lordship. He would realise that there was more to her than her beauty, her charming manners and a substantial portion. The thought of his admiration sent her home in a mood so sunny that, after the thunder clouds of the past three days, the whole household relaxed thankfully.

  Alethea set out on her second visit to Hampton Court with very mixed feelings. On the one hand she looked forward with pleasure to renewing her acquaintance with Lady Emily and to spending her day in such delightful surroundings. On the other she dreaded the awkward scene that must ensue when Tina discovered that Damon intended to take her as his passenger for the return to Town. The cousins had scarcely exchanged more than a dozen words since the day of the military review. Even if they had, Alethea doubted if the circumstances would ever have been propitious for such a disclosure.

  But by the time that the actual moment of confession was upon her, she could only be thankful that a disastrous afternoon was approaching its end. The day had begun pleasantly enough, save for the weather which was oppressively hot. Tina was in her gayest mood, driving off with Damon in the wake of James and Marianne. Alethea’s own escort was the young Hussar officer who had sprung to her defence when Tina had snubbed her so unkindly at her début party. He confided almost at once that he had a great ambition to become, as he phrased it, a ‘first-rate fiddler’. But as he then added that he believed the foundation of such success must lie in establishing a good understanding with his horses rather than in attempting feats of showy whip-work that were at present beyond his skill, she was able to enjoy her drive in comfort, to refrain from drawing his attention to a charming view just when he was negotiating a sharp bend, and to talk horses with unfeigned interest at such times as he could spare a little of his attention for the social niceties.

  But the afternoon was fraught with discomfort from the moment that they were admitted to Lady Emily’s private apartments. It was difficult to say just why. Tina’s company manners did not usually put one to the blush. Perhaps on this occasion she was a little too anxious to please, a little too conciliating. She addressed Lady Emily with a deference so marked as to be slightly suspect and, in general, treated her as one who must be cherished and tended with such care as one bestows upon the near senile. It was an attitude that did not take at all with Lady Emily. Remembering the very different treatment that she had been accorded, Alethea could scarcely credit the malicious humour with which her ladyship proceeded to expose her cousin’s every weakness.

  She voiced several ridiculous and even contradictory opinions and nodded pleased approval as Tina echoed them with sycophantic enthusiasm; led her, by artfully innocent questions to acknowledge a lack of principle quite shocking in any female with claims to gentility and displayed her to her embarrassed fellow guests in the worst possible light. She might, perhaps, have wearied soon enough of this one-sided pastime. One, moreover, which she would undoubtedly have condemned in any other hostess as being a shabby way to treat a guest. Unfortunately, before the novelty had had time to pall, she had turned to Alethea and suggested that she might care to show her young escort some of the glories of the State Apartments. “And I could not put you in the hands of a better cicerone,” she assured him graciously. “It is quite amazing how much history the child knows.”

  It was at this point that Tina chose to echo and improve upon Lady Emily’s sentiments. “Deplorable, is it not, ma’am?” she said lightly, patronisingly. “My little cousin is never so happy as when she is poking about some musty old building or has her nose glued to letters and diaries writ by persons who would not have had the time for them if their own lives had not been so deadly dull. Mama is quite in despair over her. Says it is high time she left the schoolroom behind and directed her thoughts to more profitable matters.”

  Lady Emily herself had advised Alethea to much the same tune, if rather more kindly. But she had liked the girl at that first meeting, even to the extent of mildly regretting that she had no fortune to recommend her as a possible bride for Damon. To have this spoiled, conceited chit decrying her was more than she could stomach.

  Alethea and young Gilbert could do no other than fall in with their hostess’s suggestion, though Alethea had already seen enough of Lady Emily’s methods to render her deeply uneasy. Gilbert’s, “Phew! Regular old termagant, ain’t she?” did nothing to allay her fears; and the atmosphere upon their return, after a very cursory tour of the main points of interest, confirmed that the worst had happened. Lady Emily looked smug, Tina complacent. But Marianne’s hunted expression and James’s quizzical one betrayed all too plainly how the game had gone. Only Damon appeared to be unperturbed, though after one swift glance at Alethea’s face he took the opportunity afforded by their interruption of removing his aunt’s prey from her clutches.

  “With your permission, ma’am, I would like to show Miss Newton something of the Palace. You are behaving very badly, you know, devoting your whole attention to her, when here is Marianne’s betrothed anxious to improve his acquaintance with you. Come, now! Yield her to me for a little while. As yet she has seen nothing of her surroundings.”

  Their eyes met and clashed, slow amusement in Damon’s, guilty defiance in Lady Emily’s. But hers were the first to yield. “Very well, then,” she said crossly. “Be off with you, if you must. Though in my day a fifteen mile drive from Town would have given a young man opportunity enough for all that he needed to say. And don’t keep her out too long.”

  Tina positively preened. To have Damon claiming her society and Lady Emily bestowing such distinguishing attention upon her was just what she had hoped for. She smiled bewitchingly at Damon as she set her hand upon his proffered arm, promised Lady Emily in dulcet tones that they would not be gone above half an hour, and allowed herself to be escorted from the room.

  “Half an hour!” snorted Lady Emily disgustedly. “What does she hope to see in that time?”

  Since no one ventured a reply, she added on a more reflective note, “At least the boy has too much sense to let himself be trapped by that piece of brass-faced perfection.” She turned to Marianne. “Has he made up his mind yet? Found a wench who fulfils all his exacting requirements?”

  “So I believe, ma’am,” returned Marianne primly. But when the old lady plied her with eager questions she would say only that it was the merest speculation and that to be discussing her cousin’s private affairs so openly must be embarrassing to their friends. Recalled to a sense of decorum, Lady Emily rang for her maid, directed that cakes and wine should be brought for the refreshment of her visitors, and, as though purged of all malice by her recent spirited performance, addressed herself to James in the kindliest way. Since Damon had the good sense to keep a very willing Tina strolling about the ancient walks for a good deal longer than the prescribed half hour, the remainder of the visit passed off comparatively peacefully, until Lady Emily announced her intention of coming into the forecourt to watch her guests drive away.

  “I’ve always had an eye for a good bit of horseflesh,” she announced complacently, “though it’s long enough since I used anything but stolid hirelings. I sometimes think you can judge a man pretty well by the cattle he keeps and the way he handles ’em.”

  The remark was scarcely calculated to reassure her male guests, but worse was in store for the ladies. Having stumped round the three vehicles with the support of her ebony cane, delivered a highly critical opinion
of the assorted steeds, and told Damon that it was time he bought a new curricle, since, in her hey-day, no girl with any pretensions to fashion would have consented to ride with him in that shabby old thing, she turned her attention to her own sex. Open carriages or not, she told them severely, they would not have been permitted to go jauntering about the countryside without so much as a groom in attendance if they had been in her charge. Nor did Marianne’s timid reference to the sizeable group of friends whom they were appointed to meet in Hampton Wick serve in any way to placate her. Was a vehicle never known to fall behind its consorts, she wanted to know. Or to take a wrong turning, or a so-called short cut?

  Having triumphed over Marianne, she relented enough to say that perhaps in her case it was allowable, since she was driving with her affianced husband, then fixed Tina with a penetrating stare and enquired in whose company she had made the journey from Town.

  “In Lord Skirlaugh’s, ma’am,” returned that young lady. And then, in the serene belief that she was already established in Lady Emily’s regard, added saucily, “Unlike you, ma’am, I don’t disdain to ride in a shabby vehicle when its owner is so accomplished a driver and so agreeable a companion.”

  Damon turned away to hide his amusement, and made pretence of adjusting a buckle as he recalled the commonplace exchanges that had earned him this encomium. But Lady Emily was outraged. The brazen hussy, to dare to speak to her in so familiar a fashion! She said coldly, “Then certainly you must return with someone else. You cannot spend the whole of the day in Skirlaugh’s pocket without causing undesirable comment.”

  Tina was nonplussed. To affront Lady Emily by disobeying her was more than she cared to do. It would be to jeopardise all that she felt she had gained. But what of her plans?

  While still she hesitated, Damon said smoothly, “You are very right, Aunt Emily. I should have thought of that for myself. Perhaps Miss Forester would be willing to change places.” Secretly he could have hugged the old girl for making his way so easy.

  Tina was still a little loth to abandon her carefully conceived plan, though during the past hour she had begun to wonder if it was, after all, quite so clever. What if she were to suffer some hurt? Serious injury was unlikely if they were travelling slowly enough, but even minor abrasions might leave her temporarily scarred. Worse still, she might break or lose a tooth! Besides, in view of Damon’s attentive solicitude during their stroll in the Palace grounds and the way in which he had coaxed her to stay with him long after the prescribed half hour, perhaps it was not, after all, necessary to proceed to such extreme measures. No doubt Lady Emily’s attitude had helped him to make up his mind. She made up hers. Alethea should take her place on the homeward journey—and the risks that went with it. She didn’t wish her cousin any particular harm, though the thought did just cross her mind that it would be better if it was Alethea who lost a tooth. Alethea’s were whiter and more even than her own.

  The day, which had throughout been a little too hot for enjoyment, was now definitely sultry. The sun had vanished behind a heavy overcast and livid clouds were massing ominously in the south east. The gentlemen consulted earnestly together in the inn yard, interrupted only when one of them offered Tina a letter, which had, he said, been brought by ‘that lad from the livery stable’.

  Tina bit her lip. How like Toby to allow himself to be not only seen but recognised. She accepted the letter nonchalantly.

  “Stoopid fellow was hanging about the stables,” volunteered the bearer. “Can’t think why he didn’t come up to the inn. Couldn’t have expected to find you in the coach house.”

  But it was clear that he saw nothing suspicious in the circumstances and turned away at once to join the argument as to whether the road by Strawberry Hill and Twickenham was preferable to the more direct route over Putney Heath. It was longer, but it offered more possibilities of obtaining shelter should the threatening storm break. Opinions being divided, the party split up. The little party who had visited Lady Emily were the last to leave. Tina heard Damon suggest that they follow the more direct road and promptly begged young Gilbert to take the other one. She did not know whether or not Toby had managed to achieve his purpose, but she meant to be well away from the scene of any possible accident.

  “May have to put ’em along a bit if we’re not to get a wetting,” said Damon cheerfully, easing his pair up Kingston Hill, “but I’ll not press them at this stage.”

  Alethea agreed to it, thankful for the flow of air that cooled her burning cheeks, and presently gathering courage to ask apprehensively, “Did Lady Emily pursue her—her—baiting tactics the whole time?”

  He chuckled. “She did. Most successfully. I dared not catch James’s eye. It was the funniest thing I’ve heard in months. Now don’t look like that, child. It’s no bread and butter of yours. Your cousin has a dozen times your experience. Only her overweening conceit blinded her to traps that should not have deceived a child. You are not to blush for her folly.”

  That was true, of course, but Alethea found it very lowering just the same. It was no pleasant thing to be made a laughing stock. She could only hope that Tina would remain in happy ignorance of the figure she had cut. She sighed sharply.

  He was swift enough to sense her mood, and as the horses reached the crest of the hill and broke into a gentle trot he spoke of other things. She responded sensibly enough but without her usual animation. He ventured the suggestion that at least the threat of coming storm might protect them from the threat of hold-up on the Heath. That made her smile a little and beg an explanation of his reasoning.

  “Because the gentleman of the road would reckon on poor pickings in such weather,” he explained, urging the horses to a canter. “This storm is coming up faster than I anticipated, Miss Forester, and we are driving into it. With your permission, I’m going to spring ’em.”

  The curricle might be a trifle shabby, but it was well designed. His lordship’s horses were beautifully matched, and with those capable hands holding the reins there could be no question of anxiety. Surrendering to the intoxication of speed, Alethea’s spirits rose. This was delightful. She found herself wondering, rather reprehensibly, how soon they would overtake the vehicles that had started ahead of them. It must be almost at once, for his lordship was maintaining a splitting pace, but so far there was no other carriage in sight.

  There was a sudden spatter of large raindrops. She put up a hand to brush them from her cheek, heard a sharp crack that sounded like a shot, and immediately called to mind the highwaymen of whom they had been talking. She looked up, half expecting to see some sinister masked figure, pistol in hand. Instead, she saw a wheel bowling rapidly down the road. She was still staring at it, wondering where in the world it had come from, when the curricle swerved violently all across the road, lurching heavily as Damon fought to check the headlong pace, and ending on its side in the off-side ditch, decanting its two passengers without ceremony on the rough verge.

  THIRTEEN

  Alethea’s recollection of subsequent events was never very clear. When first she was fully conscious of her surroundings she was tucked up snugly in her own bed with a dull headache, a streaming cold and Hetty in attendance. She could scarcely believe it when Hetty told her that two days had elapsed since that eventful visit to Hampton Court. Hetty said that she was not to worry, that she would remember all about it eventually. It was just because she had struck her head against something or other when she was thrown out of the carriage. To anxious enquiries about Lord Skirlaugh, the maid gave soothing replies. He had sustained no serious injury, had, indeed, called in Berkeley Square that very morning to enquire after his fellow sufferer, though he was still limping heavily and walking with a stick. She then announced that her patient had done enough talking and must now swallow the potion left for her by the physician, close her eyes and rest.

  Alethea was very willing to obey. But as she drifted in and out of periods of semi-consciousness and drugged sleep, fragments of recollection came ba
ck to tease her. She could still see that wheel bowling down the road. It seemed to spin on for ever before her aching eyes. There was a memory, too, of being soaking wet and very cold and of someone struggling rather clumsily to wrap her in a coat; of her own voice crying, “Don’t go! Please don’t leave me!” She slept again, and presently roused with the scent of sweet hay in her nostrils. She must have been dreaming. But what a queer thing to dream—that she had been lying, cramped and stiff but warm, clasped in Damon’s arms, with the sweet smelling rustling hay all about them. Her head ached too much to puzzle it out. She slept—more deeply this time—and woke to find her father sitting beside her.

  She struggled up on one elbow in her delight at seeing him, to be pressed gently back against the pillows and told to lie quiet while he kissed her cheek and patted her hand and bade her not to be anxious for everything was quite all right.

  She could see no cause for anxiety—save that Papa had left home at an inconvenient time to visit a daughter who ailed no more than a throbbing head and a disfiguring cold—but she accepted his soothing words as an expression of affection, and having been assured that Mama had withstood the shock of hearing about her accident with great fortitude, relaxed drowsily on her pillows and listened to his news of home. He could not stay long; must, in fact, return that night. He had thought to come up to Town again in a day or two to escort her home, but since she seemed to be going on quite prosperously he might not put himself to the trouble, since Aunt Maria had said that Hetty should go with her.