Even as she did so, Hetty with a last exclamation of fury turned on her heels and ran back towards the chaise.
The Gentleman who had brought her had not alighted from the vehicle but had sat during the whole proceeding holding his horses in check and being merely a spectator of the drama that was being unfolded in front of him.
Now when Hetty rejoined him and remounted the chaise, he realised that she wished to leave immediately and drove his horses away through the trees following a track which would eventually lead them to the other side of the wood.
Lord Corbury and Sir Nicolas, watching her go, stood as if frozen in their tracks, until as she disappeared they returned again towards each other.
It was Lord Corbury who first saw Fenella emerge from the bushes to stand there irresolute and uncertain.
“Good God!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here, Fenella?”
To Fenella’s consternation everyone turned their heads in her direction, and she knew by the expression in Sir Nicolas’s face that he very much disapproved of her presence.
“I had to — see what — happened,” she murmured in a low voice.
“What with Drury Lane Dramatics and a crowd of spectators we might as well be in Piccadilly,” Lord Corbury remarked in disgust.
And then suddenly his sense of humour asserted itself.
“Blast it! but this is the most ridiculous duel in which I have ever taken part,” he said and began to laugh.
Just for a moment it seemed as if Sir Nicolas’s stiff attitude would not allow him to relax. Then he smiled too and putting up his pistol discharged it into the air.
“Honour is satisfied!” he said and he looked at Fenella as he spoke, knowing she would approve of his action.
Not to be outdone, Lord Corbury lifted his pistol and fired at the sky. Then he walked towards Sir Nicolas and held out his hand.
“I apologise, Waringham,” he said. “I knew even as I said it that you would not allow any horse from your stable to be pulled.”
It was a generous gesture, and Fenella looked at him with an expression of happiness which released the tension from which she had been suffering all night.
“Well, I will tell you one thing, Corbury,” one of his seconds said, “this is the last time I creep out of bed with a splitting head to support you. There is not even a bleeding body to show for all my endeavours!”
“Nevertheless,” one of the other Gentlemen remarked, “I am now cursed hungry having got up so early. What do you say if we all go to the Club for breakfast?”
“That is a most sensible suggestion,” the Referee remarked.
“Good idea!” Lord Corbury agreed and looked at Sir Nicolas.
“I hope you will all honour me by being my guests,” he said as if he knew it was expected of him.
Lord Corbury handed his pistol to one of his friends who placed it in the duelling-box.
“I will take Miss Lambert home,” he said, “and join you within ten minutes.”
As he spoke he took Fenella by the arm.
“Come along,” he said. “I cannot think what the world is coming to when a man cannot enjoy the privacy of a duel without females poking their noses into it and making a thorough nuisance of themselves!”
He was however, Fenella knew, no longer angry and she detached herself for one moment from his side to give her hand to Sir Nicolas.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “You know I am grateful.”
He understood only too well what she meant. At the same time she saw the hurt in his eyes and knew he thought her gratitude was only because Periquine was saved from injury.
She wanted to reassure him by saying that she had worried about him too, but there was no time.
He raised her hand to his lips, and then Lord Corbury was taking her away through the trees to where his Phaeton was waiting.
A groom was holding his horses’ heads and after Periquine had helped Fenella up into the seat and taken up the reins, they drove away alone through the trees towards Lord Farquhar’s house.
“There is something I want to tell you, Fenella,” Lord Corbury said.
“What is it?” she asked apprehensively.
There was something in his voice which told her that what he had to impart was serious.
“I am going to India.”
“To India! “ Fenella ejaculated.
Whatever she had thought to hear this was totally unexpected.
“I am leaving almost immediately. I was told by a friend of mine last night there are enormous opportunities there for any young man who will spend a few years learning about and handling the merchandise which is being shipped from the East to Europe in large quantities.”
“How will you get — there? How can you — afford it?” Fenella gasped.
“I meant to borrow the money,” Lord Corbury said, “but last night when I returned home I had a talk with your uncle and he has been exceedingly helpful. He has promised to give me an introduction to a number of firms who are already established in India, and he has also offered to pay my fare and give me enough to live on until I can find my own feet.”
“But — Periquine, it is — so far — away,” Fenella said almost childishly.
She thought she could not bear him to go! It would mean he would be away for years and she would not see him. What was more, she was quite certain that once he had left England he would forget her very existence.
For one second she played wildly with the idea of asking him to take her with him - as his wife - as his mistress - she did not care in which capacity she travelled as long as she was with him.
And then she knew that he would not want her company. He would wish to be alone. He would not want the responsibility or the trouble of being hampered with a woman.
“It has great possibilities, I am sure of that,” Lord Corbury was saying. “I cannot understand why I did not think of it before.”
“How — long — do you think you will be — away?” Fenella asked.
“Your uncle suggests that in four, perhaps five, years if I use my intelligence, I should be able to return with a fortune.”
Four or five years! Fenella could not whisper the words even beneath her breath. Now before they could say more they had turned in at the drive of Lord Farquhar’s house and the big red brick mansion loomed ahead of them.
“Surely we must — talk about it — decide what is — best . . .” she began wildly.
“I have made my decision,” Lord Corbury affirmed. “I shall leave as soon as possible.”
“But, Periquine — ” Fenella began and then realised there was nothing she could say.
He drew up his horses outside the door, and feeling as if she had been given the death sentence, Fenella put out her hand to a footman who had hurried down the steps to assist her.
Then as she alighted the butler came to the side of the Phaeton.
“There is someone to see you, M’Lord,” he said to Lord Corbury.
“At this hour of the morning?” Lord Corbury asked raising his eyebrows.
“Yes, M’Lord. Apparently he has urgent business with Your Lordship which took him to the Priory. When he found your Lordship had left for the races, he travelled here and arrived about half an hour ago. He is at this moment in the Salon with the Master.”
Fenella had listened to this conversation with surprise.
“Fancy Uncle Roderick being up so early,” she remarked to Lord Corbury.
He was climbing down from the Phaeton, and as he did not answer her the butler said with a touch of rebuke in his voice,
“His Lordship is always up early, Miss. In fact His Lord ship attributes his good health to the fact that he usually - has a ride before breakfast.”
The word breakfast seemed to remind Lord Corbury that he had an appointment with his friends.
“Keep the horses,” he said to the butler. “I cannot believe this stranger’s business with me will take long.”
He followed Fenell
a up the steps and across the hall towards the Salon.
A footman opened the door for them and Fenella entered to see her uncle in riding-breeches standing by the fire-place and beside him a small grey-haired little man, wearing neat sombre black garments which seemed instantly to proclaim him as being a clerk of some sort or another.
“Good morning, Fenella,” Lord Farquhar said, “and good morning to you, Periquine. You appear to be in good shape.”
There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke and Lord Corbury answered briefly.
“The duel was concluded in a somewhat unexpected fashion.”
“You are Lord Corbury?” the little man asked.
“I am.”
“Then may I, M’Lord, introduce myself? My name is Salter and I’m the Senior Clerk to Mayberry Letchington and Mayberry, Solicitors to your late Uncle - Colonel Alexander Massingburg-Corbury.”
There was a moment’s pregnant silence. Then Lord Corbury said slowly,
“You said my late uncle?”
“It is with deep regret, M’Lord, that I have to inform you that the Colonel was mortally injured while out riding four days ago. His horse failed to clear a brick wall and in falling crushed your uncle beneath him so that he died almost immediately.”
Lord Corbury said nothing, it seemed as if he was turned to stone. Then as if he chose his words with care he said,
“You came down from Yorkshire especially to find me?”
“Yes, M’Lord,” the Clerk replied. “Mr. Mayberry, the Senior Partner, asked me to inform Your Lordship not only of your Uncle’s sad demise, but also that it is imperative for you to journey to Yorkshire as soon as it is humanly possible.”
“You mean-” Lord Corbury began.
“I mean, M’Lord, you are the sole beneficiary under your Uncle’s Will. Mr. Mayberry requires your presence and your assistance, which is why he sent me South with instructions to find you.”
“I understand,” Lord Corbury said.
He had turned rather pale, Fenella thought, but otherwise his voice was quite expressionless as he said,
“Perhaps you would be good enough, Mr. Salter, to give me some idea of what my Uncle’s estate comprises. I have not seen him for over five years.”
“But of course, M’Lord,” Mr Salter answered, “although it is difficult to be accurate until things are wound up. There are large properties in Yorkshire, a mansion with quite a sizeable estate in Leicestershire and Corbury House which, as Your Lordship well knows, the Colonel took over from your late father in Grosvenor Square as well as some other properties in London.”
“It sounds a considerable amount,” Lord Corbury said, still in a low calm voice which Fenella knew meant he had complete control of himself.
“It is very difficult,” the Clerk continued, “to give your Lordship more information until Mr. Mayberry has gone further into the details of your possessions. But he did mention to me just as I was leaving that, if Your Lordship should ask, he was certain that the money in the bank, and the shares owned by your Uncle in very reputable firms, would touch a figure of not less than half a million pounds!”
It was Fenella who gasped quite audibly. Lord Corbury said nothing, but he could not prevent a sudden light showing in his eyes as he said quietly,
“Thank you for the information, Mr. Salter.”
“I know, dear boy,” Lord Farquhar interposed, “that you will wish to be on your way to Yorkshire immediately, I have therefore taken upon myself to lend you a four-in hand. It will carry you more swiftly than your Phaeton, and you can change horses for the first time at my own stables in London.”
“it is very obliging of you, M’Lord,” Lord Corbury said. “And if you will excuse me I would of course wish to be on my way.”
He looked at the Clerk.
“Will you travel with me, Mr. Salter?”
“I should be honoured, M’Lord.”
“I shall have to stop for a few minutes at the Club and tell my friends that I cannot breakfast with them,” Lord Corbury said, “though I will undoubtedly feel justified in partaking of a glass of wine.”
His eyes met Lord Farquhar’s as he spoke and the two men smiled at each other. Then Lord Corbury held out his hand.
“Thank you,” he said, “for the kind offer you made me last night. Can I leave Fenella in your charge?”
“You can do that,” Lord Farquhar said, “and the best of luck, my boy!”
“Thank you,” Lord Corbury replied.
He turned towards Fenella. She was looking up at him beseechingly, her face very pale. He put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair.
“Take care of yourself, Imp,” he said, “and do not get into any more mischief if you can help it.”
Her hands fluttered out towards him, but already he had walked from the room swiftly and with an eagerness that he could not hide.
Fenella followed him. As she reached the hall she saw the four-in-hand was already waiting outside the front door and the servants lifting Lord Corbury’s valise into it.
He swung himself onto the box-seat, Mr. Salter scrambled up beside him and the groom seated himself behind.
The horses were fresh and fidgeting to be off. And it was with great difficulty that while keeping his leader under control, Lord Corbury managed to raise his hat as he drove away.
Fenella put up her hand and waved but he did not look back. She watched his broad shoulders and the raffish angle of his hat until the drive turned and he was out of sight. Forlornly she let her arm fall down to her side.
“Half a million pounds!” she murmured almost beneath her breath. “Oh, Uncle Roderick, I have lost him now! He will be able to — marry Hetty as he has always wanted to do.”
Lord Farquhar put an arm round her shoulders.
“You might do well to remember an adage from the racing world,” he said. “It is – ‘One has never lost a race until another horse is first past the winning post’!”
Three weeks later, helping himself to cutlets furnished by his own lambs, garnished with mushrooms picked in his own meadows, Lord Corbury looked across the large oval room in which he was sitting through the high windows onto the well-kept garden, which was bathed in sunshine.
It was a fine day and he was thinking that he would rather ride across the fields to inspect the work that was taking place in one of his villages than drive round the twisting narrow lanes.
He was waited on at breakfast by an elderly Butler, who had the appearance of a Bishop, and three footmen.
Another flunkey appeared to whisper something in the Butler’s ear, who now approached His Lordship respectfully to say in a low voice,
“I would inform Your Lordship that Mr. Tothill the architect is here to discuss with Your Lordship the plans for the new buildings on the West side of the Estate, and Wingate and his son who are concerned with the drainage of the land down by the river have been waiting Your Lordship’s pleasure for nearly an hour.”
“I will see them all in a few minutes,” Lord Corbury replied. “Have you told my agent to be here at 9.30?”
“I sent a groom to Mr. Walker’s house last night, M’Lord, after I received your instructions.”
“Thank you, Barnstaple,” Lord Corbury said, “There is a lot to do!”
He spoke with a note of satisfaction in his voice and the Butler replied,
“There is indeed, M’Lord. But if your Lordship will permit me to say so, as Mr. Walker was saying only yesterday, there has never been a gentleman who seemed to grasp the intricacies of the situation so quickly, who was so positive in deciding what should be done.”
Lord Corbury permitted himself a smile of satisfaction.
It was true, he thought. He had never realised before what pleasure there was in planning an estate or setting in motion the architects, the builders, the stonemasons, the carpenters and all the other people who were vitally concerned with the projects he had in hand.
“I’m afraid,” the Butler was saying, “that Y
our Lordship has found that the late Master was only concerned with the well-being of his horses. He had little interest in his tenants or indeed in the farming of his land.”
“I must admit to being surprised at how much needs doing,” Lord Corbury agreed.
He waved away two other dishes that were proffered him by the footmen.
“I have no time for more,” he said. “Besides, I shall find myself putting on weight if the Chef continues to send up such excellent food at every meal.”
“Adolphus will be very gratified, M’Lord,” the Butler said, “to know his efforts have found favour in your eyes. He is indeed an artist at his work, but he gets very despondent if he is not appreciated.”
“Then tell him I am extremely pleased with his efforts,” Lord Corbury said.
He picked up a glass of ale by his side as he spoke. It was ale that had been brewed in his own brewery on his own estate, and which he felt, though it might have been imagination, was better than any other ale he had ever tasted in his whole life.
He was about to rise from the table, when a flunkey placed a silver salver in Barnstaple’s hand.
He brought it to Lord Corbury’s side. On the shining surface reposed two letters.
“The post has just arrived, M’Lord.”
Lord Corbury picked up the letters. There was no mistaking on the first at which he looked that the elaborate, elegant script was the effort of a female and the other with its curling capitals was also from a woman.
A footman set a gold-handled ivory letter-opener at his Lordship’s side and he slit the first letter open.
It was scented with gardenia, and as this was a perfume he had every reason to remember, he did not need to glance at the signature before he started to read.
10th July 1817.
Periquine, my Very Dear,
It is with the greatest joy I have heard of your good fortune and of the vast estates your Uncle has bequeathed to you on his death.
As the London Season is over you will have realised that we are now at Brighton where His Royal Highness the Prince Regent is in residence. It is very gay, but as you can imagine I miss you sadly.
06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection) Page 17