by Mary Nichols
‘A slight diversion, Miss Kingslake,’ he said. ‘The horses must be changed and as Fairfields, my home, is nearby, I wish to do it there. I prefer my own animals to those the inns provide. Besides, we have had no time to send on ahead for a change to be made ready. While it is being done, we shall have nuncheon. You do not object, do you?’
‘No,’ she said, doubtfully. ‘But my aunt is very anxious on account of Ben, she will be impatient at any delay.’
‘We will soon make up the time with fresh horses and your young cousin is safe enough for now.’
The carriage turned into a wide drive and Pippa caught her first glimpse of his home. Surrounded by parkland, it was not as large as some country seats, but impressive for all that. It was a square three-storey building with a white-columned portico and a great double oak door in the centre of its facade. A crenulated balustrade almost hid its roof from which tall twisted chimneys rose against the sky. Ivy clung to its walls and framed its gothic windows, which gleamed in the spring sunshine. Before it was a wide carriage sweep in the middle of which was a statue of a soldier on a prancing horse.
‘My grandfather, the Earl of Ashley,’ he said, noticing her gaze upon it. ‘I was named for him.’
‘But you are not a peer?’
‘No, my father was a younger son. I inherited this house from him, but not the title. My uncle has that along with a much larger country seat in Hertfordshire.’
‘And your mother, is she still living?’
‘No, she died giving me birth. I was raised by a succession of nurses and governesses, none of whom stayed very long. I no sooner grew to love them and depend on them than they were gone for one reason or another.’
‘That must have been very upsetting for you,’ she said, her heart going out to the lonely little boy.
‘I soon got over it.’
‘Who taught you about women?’
Understanding what she meant, he laughed. ‘A chambermaid. I was fourteen at the time and she was several years older, but she was kind to an ignorant boy. She was sent away when my father found out what was going on.’
‘Perhaps that is why you have had no lasting relationship with a woman,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You cannot trust yourself to trust.’
‘You may be right.’
They had come to a stop before the door and Augusta woke with a start. ‘Where are we?’ she asked, sitting upright and hastily adjusting her hat.
‘We are at Fairfields, Sir Ashley’s home,’ Pippa explained. ‘Sir Ashley is going to change the horses here.’
‘I know you are in haste, dear lady,’ Ash said, jumping down and turning to hand her out. ‘But we shall make good time with a new set of horses and I am sure you will feel better for a little refreshment.’
He turned to help Pippa out, but she was already standing on the gravel gazing up at the impressive façade. The carriage was driven away and he offered each lady an arm to escort them inside.
The door opened before they reached it and a butler stood ready to welcome them. ‘Sir Ashley, I heard the carriage arrive. I did not expect you…’
‘I am sorry, Andrew, there was no time to warn you, but we are not here to stay. We are on the way to Norwich and stopped to change the horses. Will you ask Mrs Bellamy to find us something light to eat and then we must be on our way again. And send one of the maids to conduct the ladies upstairs to refresh themselves.’
Pippa looked about her. They were in a wide hallway. In front of her was an impressive carved oak staircase, which led to a gallery that ran round three sides of the hall. She tilted her head upwards. The ceiling, three storeys up, was a glass dome. Each section was a different colour and the sun shining through it cast intricate patterns on the tiled floor at her feet.
‘You like it?’ he asked with a smile.
‘Oh, yes, it is beautiful.’
‘Would you like to see the rest of the house while we are waiting?’
‘Oh, yes, please. If we have time.’
A maid appeared with a jug of hot water and curtsied. ‘Go with Betsy,’ Ash said. ‘She will show you where you can refresh yourselves. Come down when you are ready and we shall have a quick tour of the house before nuncheon.’
‘Sir Ashley, I beg you to remember we are not paying a social call,’ Augusta said. ‘Any other time I would be charmed to see over your house, but today I am in ferment over my darling boy.’
‘Dear lady, of course you are, but we shall soon make up the time and you cannot go all day without sustenance.’
There was nothing she could do but acquiesce and she followed the maid and Pippa up to one of the bedrooms where they were able to tidy themselves before returning downstairs. Their repast was not yet on the table and Ash made good his promise to show them round. Pippa would have loved to dawdle, to examine the furniture and draperies, the pictures and carvings, to admire the views from the windows, to ask innumerable questions, but, aware of her aunt’s impatience, the tour was a swift one.
‘You have a lovely home,’ Pippa said when they were seated at the table, which was heaped with food, in the dining room. Sir Ashley’s cook had worked wonders in the time available.
‘Yes. I have a good and loyal staff who keep everything as I like it.’
‘But no wife,’ Augusta put in, attacking a cold chicken leg.
‘No. I have no wife,’ he admitted.
‘Sir Ashley is a lifelong bachelor, Aunt,’ Pippa told her. Not for the world would she divulge what he had said to her in the coach. ‘He is, I believe, too particular and no lady lives up to his ideals.’
‘Is that so?’ the good lady queried. ‘But do you not miss the love and companionship a good wife can bring to a man?’
‘He can get love and companionship without marrying,’ Pippa said before he could answer. It sounded very much as if her aunt were matchmaking and it embarrassed her so much she said the first thing that came into her head and immediately regretted it.
‘Philippa!’ her aunt exclaimed.
‘I beg your pardon, Sir Ashley,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I forget I am a lady.’
He turned to look at her. She was very fetching in her turquoise and red. He was especially coming to like her flaming hair and he certainly admired her wondrous green eyes. If he looked into them too long, he was sure he would be mesmerised out of his senses. ‘Today, you look every inch the lady,’ he said with a smile that told her he was remembering the time when she did not.
‘Thank you, Sir Ashley.’ She lowered her gaze to her plate and concentrated on the food on it: a cold chicken leg, a slice of ham, a wedge of game pie and a green salad, simple fare but superbly cooked and presented. She ate some of it, but her stomach was churning so much she found it difficult to swallow. Sir Ashley Saunders was making her behave like a schoolgirl, saying outrageous things and blushing like a turkey cock. For six years she had been cool, calm, practical, concentrating on her writing, putting all her energies into producing adventure stories. Now she was in the middle of an adventure herself and this time it was real. And what was worse, she had no idea how it would end. The control she liked to have over her plots had deserted her. Even her tongue was running away with her.
The meal came to an end, the carriage was brought to the door, this time drawn by a pair of bays, and they resumed their journey. Philippa sat in the corner of the roomy interior and tried to make herself as small as possible. Her determination not to be drawn into any more indiscreet utterances and her lack of sleep the night before had the effect of making her doze. Ash watched and smiled.
‘She is exhausted, poor dear,’ Augusta whispered. ‘She takes everyone’s burdens on her own shoulders. It is a wonder they don’t break under the strain. When my husband died, she was such a comfort to me, coming to stay and helping to look after Ben when I truly could not face the world. And then when her own parents were so tragically drowned, she tried hard to manage on her own, looking after the house and being a second mother to her brother. I cou
ld see what a struggle it was for her and so I came to Narbeach to live. I try to curb her enthusiasms, but…’ She shrugged.
‘I am sure she appreciates your efforts.’ He paused to glance in Pippa’s direction. The even rise and fall of her chest told him she slept. ‘I am surprised she has not married.’
‘We hoped for it. There was a young man. I should perhaps not tell you this, but you have been so kind to us, I feel I can trust you.’
‘Oh, indeed you may.’
‘When she was nineteen I accompanied her to London for the Season. I felt I owed her that. She met a young gentleman who was eminently eligible. He escorted her out and about and even proposed. She was so happy. But he changed his mind before an announcement could be made. I think his parents may have had something to do with it.’
He found himself remembering their conversation about red hair. ‘The man was a fool. What reason did he give?’
‘If he gave one, she did not tell me what it was. We returned home and that was the end of that.’
‘There must have been others.’
Augusta sighed. ‘There might have been, but she would not venture to the capital again and became so eccentric she put the local young gentlemen off. And now there is Sir Felix.’
‘She would not consider him, would she?’ A faint stirring in the corner stopped him from going on. He should have felt guilty about discussing the young lady like that, but he did not. It helped him to understand her. He did not doubt her unconventional behaviour masked a deep hurt. How could anyone do that to a beautiful young girl in the throes of her first love?
‘Here we are at the gates of Norwich,’ he said, raising his voice above the whisper it had been. ‘Not long now. I suggest we go to the Maid’s Head, where I shall leave you and go to the castle alone. I am persuaded you would be overset to see your son in such a place. I will bring him to you there. Do you agree?’
Augusta took her cue from him and answered loudly, ‘Thank you, Sir Ashley. Ben will be able to change into the clothes I have brought for him at the inn.’
Pippa was fully awake by the time they rattled through the gate and into the noise and bustle of England’s second city. Carriages, carts, tumbrels and riders filled the roads and pedestrians hurried along the footways, pushing their way through the throng. The city was a hub of commerce from the quays where sailing ships anchored to discharge their cargos, the cloth-weaving sheds, the breweries and leather works, to the markets and shops selling everything a person could want or need. All three were familiar with it; it was where most of their important shopping was done, but today they were more concerned with reaching the castle, which dominated the town. Set on its own steep hill it was huge and dark and frightening, an awful warning to lawbreakers.
They pulled up into the yard of the Maid’s Head and Sir Ashley escorted the ladies inside and bespoke a room for them. But Pippa was not inclined to be left behind while he went to the castle. The outside was perfectly familiar to her, but she had never been inside and wanted to see the conditions in which the prisoners were kept. If the smuggling hero of her book were to be captured, she needed to know how to describe it and how difficult it would be to escape. When he was leaving, she insisted on accompanying him.
‘You will not like it,’ Ash told her. ‘And I do not want to have a swooning woman on my hands.’
‘I have never swooned in my life,’ she retorted. ‘And I do not want to be shielded from life’s unpleasantness.’
‘Why not? Do you enjoy squalor?’
‘Certainly not,’ she said, walking beside him, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. ‘But if we shut our eyes to these things, how can we remedy them?’
‘You wish to remedy them?’
‘Of course. Don’t you?’
‘I am a man.’
‘Do you know, I never noticed that,’ she said, laughing.
He chuckled. ‘And for all your pretence at being different, you are all woman. Tell me how you propose to remedy the squalor in the prison?’
‘By drawing people’s attention to it,’ she said promptly. ‘The written word, Sir Ashley, repeated until someone takes notice.’
‘Commendable,’ he said. ‘But first you need to know your words will be read and taken note of. People do not like being preached at.’
‘I know that.’ She stopped speaking to dodge a woman with a flower basket hurrying in the opposite direction. Ash threw a sixpence into the basket and picked up a posy of violets and primroses, which he presented to Pippa with a little bow.
‘They will make the dungeons smell a little sweeter,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ She put the posy to her nose, half sad, half glad that the conversation had been brought to an end. Edward had decried her writing as unladylike and she wondered if Sir Ashley also thought that. After telling her she was all woman—whatever he had meant by that—she did not want him to change his mind. This man, this handsome, all-seeing man, was breaking down the walls she had built around herself. She knew that could be dangerous and lead to more heartbreak, but she could not seem to help herself.
They climbed the hill and entered the castle. Ash stated their business to the janitor and they were shown to the chief warder’s room. A fire burned brightly and there were the remains of a meal on the table: a plate of crumbs, a jug of beer, a pewter pot, a clay pipe, a paper of tobacco. Of the warder there was no sign. ‘Wait here,’ their escort said before leaving them. ‘He is doing his rounds. He’ll be back direc’ly.’
‘Shall we go and look for him?’ Pippa asked after several minutes. She did not wait for a reply, but opened the door and went out into the corridor and Ash had perforce to follow. Assuming the cells were in the dungeons, she walked deeper into the castle until she found some stone steps leading downwards and from which issued a babble of noise: shouting, unintelligible singing, groans, raucous laughter. The sound was accompanied by the most appalling smell. Pippa put her posy to her nose and kept going.
‘Miss Kingslake, there is no need for you to go down there,’ Ash said, but she took no notice and he kept after her.
The farther down they went, the darker it became. At the bottom of the stairs was a corridor, lit by torches, and it was lined with cells, cells filled with humanity—some of them were stretching their arms out through the bars towards her. ‘Ben!’ she called out. ‘Ben Whiteside, are you here?’
There was no answer except an echo caused by everyone who had heard her words repeating them in a cacophony of sound. She stepped farther into the foetid atmosphere and tried again.
‘He is not here,’ Ash said, appalled by what they were witnessing, and ashamed, too, to think that any human being could treat another like that. ‘No doubt they are holding him in a sweeter place considering he has not yet been tried and convicted. Come away, please. You have surely seen enough.’
They turned and retraced their steps. At the top of the stairs they encountered a fat man with a huge bunch of keys on his belt and a lantern in his hand.
‘Are you the Chief Warder?’ Ash asked.
‘I am, sir, I am. Want to look at the condemned prisoners, do you? It will cost you a shilling.’
‘No.’ Ash pulled Lord Borrowdale’s letter from his pocket. ‘I have papers here for the release of Benjamin Whiteside into my custody.’
‘Benjamin Whiteside?’ the man said, scratching his head. ‘I never heard of one by that name, but that don’ signify, use all sorts of names, they do.’
‘He was sent here by Lord Borrowdale with six other smugglers,’ Ash said. ‘It was only yesterday.’
‘Oh, that lot,’ the man said. ‘They got away. The wagon fell into an ambush in Bawdeswell Woods. The escorts came here, bleedin’ like stuck pigs to report what happened. There’s a price on their heads now, so if you come across that there Benjamin Whiteside, you turn him in.’
‘Oh, no,’ Pippa murmured, feeling herself sagging and doing her best to remain upright. ‘Poor Aunt Augusta.’
; Ash gave the man a shilling and, putting his arm about Pippa’s shoulders, led her away. Once outside she stopped and took huge gulps of fresh air. He held her. His red-haired beauty was not as formidable as she thought she was; she was standing in his encircling arms, leaning into his chest, wanting comfort. All he could do was stand with her until she recovered her composure, while the business of the street went on around them. And he did not care how long it took.
At last she pulled herself away and he felt suddenly cold, as if an east wind swirled round them. The situation had become even trickier than it had been before and he was unsure how he could resolve it without hurting her and those she loved—it was strange how important that had become. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. ‘Better now?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
He could not help it, the tilt of her head, her emerald eyes searching his, her slightly parted lips were an invitation he could not resist. He bent his head and, oh, so gently rested his mouth on hers. It was featherlight, but not in the least tentative. It told her he was there for her, that he understood, that she need not fear him and that he would not walk away.
Chapter Four
The journey back to Fairfields was a silent one; even Augusta’s sobbing had dwindled to an occasional sniff. Ash was trying one scheme after another in his head, but not deciding on any, and Pippa was savouring that kiss which she could still taste on her lips, so gentle, so caring, giving not taking. Edward had never kissed her like that. Edward had been clumsy and would have gone further if she had not stopped him. But was that simply the difference between Edward’s immaturity and Ash’s greater experience, that Ash knew how to rouse a woman and it really meant nothing at all? If she had been more experienced herself, she might have been able to tell, but here she was six years later still a spinster, dreaming of something she could not have. She would do better to think of poor Aunt Augusta and try to comfort her.