“Tonight!”
Caroline was wide awake now,
“Yes, m’1ady, for tonight there is to be a big party, guests are invited from the county and there will be over fifty to dine. It’s Mrs. Miller who has invited them in his lordship’s name, for I understand she aches to give parties and play the hostess, especially if Mr. Warlingham is there to watch her do it.”
“I understand,” Caroline said, and gave a sigh of relief. At last she was to meet Mr. Gervase Warlingham.
“I would not leave for Mandrake now, Maria, not if you gave me a thousand guineas,” she murmured.
“You go to sleep, m’lady,” Maria said. “Perhaps you will think otherwise when you awake.”
“There is not a hope of that,” Caroline replied and as Maria pulled the curtains, she turned her face to the wall and dropped into a dreamless slumber.
With the elasticity of youth there was little trace on her face of her stormy, unhappy night when she woke. Gone was the despair she had known during the night, she could only remember that Vane loved her and she loved him. What did secrets, however sinister, matter when the rapture of their love could sweep them into a Paradise where all else was forgotten? Vane’s determination not to marry her was, she thought, equalled by her determination that he should do so and as her heart quickened its beat at the thought of belonging to him, it was easy to believe that time would prove her the victor.
Caroline was smiling when she visited Lady Brecon later in the morning. The fears and terrors, the utter misery she had experienced alone in the darkness seemed exaggerated and unreal now that the sun was shining and the Dowager’s little budgerigars were chirping happily in their cages.
Caroline was certain that there was a way to solve the puzzle, she was sure that eventually she would save the man she loved both from danger and from the despondency of the secret he guarded so carefully.
“It is a glorious day, Miss Fry,” Lady Brecon said.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Caroline agreed.
“Too nice for you to stay indoors,” Lady Brecon said. “I am going to have a sleep this afternoon, child, so I suggest you go into the gardens or visit Harriet at the Vicarage. That reminds me, I believe my son is entertaining this evening. Dorcas tells, me that preparations are going on in the household. It would be a kind action to ask little Harriet Wantage to come for dinner, and she will keep you company.”
“Harriet would be delighted, I am sure Ma’am,” Caroline said.
“Well, go and invite her,” Lady Brecon commanded, “and Dorcas will inform Mrs. Miller that it is at my invitation.”
Caroline smiled at this, for she knew quite well that Lady Brecon was sparing her an unpleasant moment with Mrs. Miller who would doubtless make trouble at an extra guest whom she had not included in her own list.
“Her ladyship is sweet,” Caroline thought as she returned to her own room, “but pitiably weak. Personally I could not bear to let a woman such as Mrs. Miller rule my household.”
But she was beginning to suspect that Lady Brecon had a definite object in excluding herself from the world. She might have been a nun, so divorced was she from any interest outside her own room. Dorcas sometimes related scraps of gossip to her, but Caroline was sure that Lady Brecon listened more for Dorcas’ sake than because of her own curiosity. It was a strange behaviour for the chatelaine of a great Castle and even stranger on the part of a mother, especially one as devoted as Lady Brecon was to her son, and yet doubtless, Caroline thought, she had a good reason for her refusal to battle with the trials and difficulties of ordinary, everyday life.
Caroline went to her wardrobe to search for a suitable dress for Harriet to wear that evening. She found one, a gown of pink sarsnet trimmed with bunches of moss roses and forget-me-nots which, as it happened, had never suited her, for her hair was too brilliant for such a colour but she knew it would be an admirable frame for Harriet’s dark brown hair and trusting brown eyes.
She was just about to ring for Maria and tell her to pack the gown into a parcel when she glanced out of the windw, and saw an elegant figure strolling across the lawns towards the stone gazebo which stood at the far end of the formal garden. It was Mr. Stratton, and as Caroline watched him she remembered, their conversation of the night before.
He had been amusing about his present circumstances, and yet a real bitterness lay beneath his jesting. He did in truth find that his fortune had deprived him of much of his belief in human nature when it thrust him unexpectedly into high Society. Underneath his dandified posturing he still held to the simple standards and unaffected virtues he had known in his days of poverty. And Caroline could understand his almost childlike yearnings to be loved for himself alone. She sighed for him, because she found an echo of such an aspiration in her own heart. Even now there was a tiny lingering doubt whether Lord Brecon might not change his mind about marriage when eventually he learnt her real station in life. And although she told herself firmly that she was being unfair and disloyal to the man she loved and that he was too fine a person, too strong a character to be swayed by such superficialities, the poisoned thought recurred.
Impatient and angry with herself, Caroline concentrated her attention on Mr. Stratton. And as she watched him seat himself in the gazebo, she gave a little exclamation. She had an idea! She ran across the room and tugged at the bell-rope.
When Maria came hurrying in response to her summons, Caroline said to her,
“Pack up that pink dress, Maria, and also that striped cambric with the fichu. Do you remember it? It was a dress I wore in a masque when I had to appear as a simple village maid. I told you to pack it in case it proved useful.”
“Yes, indeed, m’lady,” Maria answered. “It is here and I have laid it in the bottom drawer of the chest. But why should your ladyship require it now?”
“Because I have a plan,” Caroline said. “Take it, put it with the evening gown and hurry as quickly as you can to the Vicarage. Speak with Miss Wantage alone, tell her I have sent you to dress her in the striped cambric, arrange her hair as modishly as you can, Maria, and tell her to expect me within the next twenty minutes. When she sees me, she is not to mention that I have sent her the gowns, make that quite clear.”
“Oh dear, m’lady,” Maria moaned, “what new scheme is afoot? I declare my head whirls with your ladyship’s plottings.”
“Cease chattering, Maria, there is no time,” Caroline commanded. “Hurry to Miss Wantage and tell her exactly what I have told you. I am saving someone else, but this time not from death but from a lonely spinsterhood.”
Caroline, smiling at Maria’s gaping mouth, went downstairs and out into the garden. She strolled across the lawns, obviously deeply engrossed in the flowers. Mr. Stratton rose as she approached the gazebo. Caroline, who was looking very attractive in a chip-straw bonnet trimmed with bunches of lilies-of the-valley and leaf-green ribbons, gave a pretended start.
“Lud, sir, but you surprised me. I was not expecting to find anyone lurking in this secluded spot.”
“I sought it for that very reason,” Mr. Stratton answered, and then he added hastily, “‘Do not misunderstand me Miss Fry. I value your presence here, it is the rest of the party from whom I would escape. Blister it, a more noisy, uncouth collection it has seldom been my misfortune to encounter. Brecon, must, be crazed to invite such company.”
“Oh, Mr. Stratton, then you are not enjoying yourself?”
“I never seem to do that these days,” he replied gloomily.
Caroline seated herself beneath the gazebo.
“It is obvious sir, that you have too great sensibility for the society in which you move. It is not of course for me, a poor dependent, to criticise but I did not think his lordship’s guests last night were greatly distinguished for their brains.”
Mr. Stratton laughed.
“You put it most genteelly, Miss Fry, but I agree with you, they are a bacon-brained crowd. Those of them who weren’t too foxed gamed until the dawn and w
hen I left them just now they were sitting down to the tables again. Try as I may, I cannot bring myself to pay a serious attention to gaming.”
“And why should you, sir?” Caroline asked. “But now I must leave you to your reading. I envy you the enjoyment of that book I see beneath your arm.”
She rose to her feet
“Must you leave me, Miss Fry?” Mr. Stratton asked.
“Alas I must,” Caroline sighed, “though I assure you, sir, I would far prefer to linger in such congenial company. But I have to carry a message for her ladyship to the Vicarage and I vow I am scared to death to take it.”
“Scared?” Mr. Stratton asked. “May I enquire why?”
“It is the Vicar, sir,” Caroline said, lowering her head as if in embarrassment, her voice very low. “He is indeed a most unpleasant gentleman.
“Makes himself unpleasant to you, does he?” Mr. Stratton said grimly “Well, we’ll soon settle that, for I will accompany you on your errand, Miss Fry, if you will permit me ”
Caroline clasped her hands together.
“Oh, sir, would you really? It is too much to ask of you, when you would rest here in comfort!”
“I am delighted to be of service, Miss Fry. Tell me more of this Vicar.”
“I find the Reverend gentleman very unprepossessing,” Caroline said demurely, casting down her. eyes. “But that is not all. He is exceeding unkind to my poor friend, his daughter, Miss Harriet Wantage. She was at school with me and a more charming, gentle soul one would find it hard to meet anywhere. I will tell you in the strictest confidence, sir, that her father is monstrously cruel to her.”
“Cruel? What then does he do?” Mr. Stratton asked curiously.
As they walked across the green lawns and on to the long drive which led to the village, Caroline regaled him with a tale of the Vicar’s cruelties which lasted nearly the whole way to the Vicarage. If she drew somewhat freely upon her imagination, she told her conscience that it was not without justification, for Harriet’s pale, frightened little face haunted her.
They reached the Vicarage and Caroline had a quick glimpse of Maria peeping out of an upstairs window before she opened the gate into the untidy and ill-kept garden.
“Pray heaven the Vicar is not at home, sirs” she said, “for perhaps he will be angered with me for bringing a distinguished visitor such as yourself to the Vicarage without invitation.”
“If he is angry he had better not show it in my presence,” Mr. Stratton said with unexpected vigour, his languid airs seemingly forgotten for the moment.
The front door was opened before they rang the bell and Harriet held out her arms in welcome to Caroline. It was Harriet, but a very changed person indeed, as Caroline saw with satisfaction. As she had anticipated, the simple but well made gown with its fresh white fichu was vastly becoming and Maria had arranged Harriet’s hair in the latest mode so that a dozen tiny, curls framed her thin face giving it an unexpectedly piquant expression. Harriet’s eyes were always her best feature and they were wide now with excitement.
Caroline introduced Mr. Stratton and Harriet led them into the cheerless, threadbare sitting-roam.
“I have an invitation for you, Harriet,” Caroline said. “Her ladyship hopes that you will come to dinner at the Castle this evening. A number of people from the County have been invited and she feels you would enjoy the party.”
“Oh, Caroline, how exciting,” Harriet exclaimed then her face dropped. “But perhaps Papa will, not let me accept.”
“I will try to persuade him,” Caroline said. “Where is he?”
“He is in his study,” Harriet said. “He is writing his sermon for Sunday. It always makes him exceeding ill-tempered.”
“You wait here,” Caroline said, “I will tell him of the invitation!”
“Dare you do so?” Harriet asked breathlessly. “I vow I could not ask him myself, I am sadly in disgrace today for the goose we had for luncheon was over-cooked. Papa was half an hour late, but he swore that was no excuse. Oh Caroline, there was such a to-do, and he threatened to flog me if dinner was not more to his liking. Do not anger him more. Perhaps it would be wiser to make my apologies to her ladyship and not trouble Papa.”
“Leave him to me,” Caroline said.
“Oh Caroline, how brave you are!” Harriet cried and turning to Mr. Stratton she asked, “Is she not, sir?”
“Mr. Stratton won’t think so,” Caroline smiled, “for I assure you, Harriet, that he is never afraid of anything except being bored.”
“I’m sure he isn’t,” Harriet said in simple flattery and Mr. Stratton smiled at her with a most un-blasé spontaneity.
Caroline left them alone in the sitting-room and went across the hall to the study. She knocked and found the Vicar not, as might be expected, sitting at his desk but stretched out comfortably in a big leather armchair, a glass of wine at his elbow. He got up slowly when he saw Caroline in the doorway and she swept him a deep curtsey. Tactfully and making full use of the most fulsome flattery which, as she anticipated, he absorbed with the greatest of ease, Caroline informed him of Lady Brecon’s invitation and received his reply that Harriet was a fortunate brat to be asked anywhere, seeing how dumb she was.
“All the same, I have a very good mind to punish the little idiot by making her stay at home this evening,” he ruminated. “She’s plagued me today beyond endurance.”
“Oh, sir you could never be so cruel,” Caroline expostulated, and added archly “Why, I declare, you are but bamming, for I perceive a twinkle in the corner of your eye.”
The Vicar capitulated.
“Very well then, tell the chit she can go, tho’ the lord knows what she will wear, for she looks like a ragbag at all times.”
“I took the liberty, sir, of bringing her a dress of my own,” Caroline said quickly. “It belonged to Lady Caroline Faye and I know her ladyship would be only too delighted for Harriet to wear it this evening.”
“If the girl were not so daft, she would make herself a decent gown,” the Vicar grumbled “but settle it amongst yourselves.”
“Thank you, sir, you are indeed generous,” Caroline said, then she hesitated and added in, a tone of nervous fluster, “I think I ought to mention, sir, that – that a gentleman accompanied me here.”
She hesitated, cast down her eyes, then raised them again and twisted her fingers together with every appearance of helpless agitation.
“I know I ought not to have brought him, sir – but I could not help myself. He was very insistent, and though he has had these few moments alone with Harriet, I feel sure it will have done her no harm.”
“Harm” the Vicar growled. “What do you mean by harm?”
“Oh, nothing, sir nothing,” Caroline fluttered. “To be fair, he speaks most pleasantly and I know little of him save that he is a sixth son and his father impoverished....”
“I want no paupers and hangers-on in my Vicarage,” the Vicar said sharply. “They bode no good to anyone. He has no business to force his way in.”
“Oh, sir, I fear it was my fault,” Caroline wilted.
“I can well believe that you could not prevent him pushing himself forward, Miss Fry. It would be difficult for someone in your position to say nay to one of his lordship’s guests, but here I am my own master. Where is this penniless jackanapes?”
The Vicar picked up his glass of wine, swilled it down his throat, wiped his mouth and strode, red-faced and pompous, into the drawing-room.
Harriet and Mr. Stratton were laughing as he entered, and Caroline, following behind the Vicar, had time to note that Harriet was looking amazingly pretty with flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
“Harriet,” the Vicar boomed in a voice of thunder, “the fire in my study is half out, and there is no wood and no coal available. Find one of the maids and have it attended to immediately. How often have I told you to see that my fire is kept replenished? I might as well talk to a deaf-mute for all the response I get.”
Like
an animal who has been constantly ill-treated Harriet cringed before her father.
“Yes, Papa-– of course, Papa – I’m sorry, Papa –’she said and crept hastily from the room.
“As for you, sir,” the Vicar said furiously, glaring at the surprised Mr. Stratton, “I would bid you good-day. Neither I – nor my daughter have the time nor the inclination for visitors of your sort.”
He turned abruptly on his heel, nodded coolly to Caroline and went back into his study, slamming the door behind him.
Caroline looked at Mt. Stratton.
“We had better go,” she whispered. “It will only be the worse for Harriet if we linger.”
As they got outside the front door, Caroline saw that Mr. Stratton’s mouth was tightened into an ominous straight line and his jaw was set determinedly. There was no sign of boredom about him now.
“The man is an inexpressible brute,” he said fiercely “and to think that unhappy, child has to endure him day after day. Such cruelty should be prevented, Miss Fry.”
“It should indeed,” Caroline said sadly, “but what can anyone do? As for Harriet, I am afraid there is no hope for her, for she has not the strength, poor sweet, to rebel and if she did, I believe her father would in very truth half kill her. No, she will live under the yoke of his cruelty until she wastes away in a decline, for she has no possible chance of escape.”
“Do not despair, we will find one,” Mr. Stratton said firmly and Caroline turned her head aside so that he should not see her smile.
8
When Caroline and Mr. Stratton entered the Castle, they found Lady Augusta and Lord Brecon standing in the great hall. They were talking together and Caroline had the impression that Lady Augusta was pleading with Lord Brecon, for her bony, be-ringed fingers were clutching at his arm and her painted lips wore an ingratiating smile.
Lord Brecon looked stern but aloof, and Caroline thought that his face lightened at her approach. He was about to greet her but before he could speak Lady Augusta cried out,
“And where have you two young people been? I saw you sneaking off together unchaperoned. Fie on you, Miss Fry, you will be getting a reputation if you do not take care.”
An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition Page 99