The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

Lucy sighed. “I have heard that too, but… I am not sure. Some of her assertions may be simple misinterpretations. I once saw her read a perfectly straightforward acrostic and assume from it that Mr Exton was in love with her. And she once told me that if she sees a peacock on the lawn when she first looks out of her window each morning, it means that he will call that day, and no amount of rational explanation of how unlikely this association is will change her mind.”

  “Oh dear,” he said, grinning wryly. “They are indeed a troublesome pair of charges for you.”

  She laughed, and said, “No worse than I expected when I undertook to chaperon them. Well, I am sorry that you have got your horses out to no purpose, Mr Coylumbroke.”

  “It need not be so, Mrs Price. Whatever the others may choose to do, we may still have our drive, may we not? You are a married woman and my tiger will be chaperon enough. What do you say?” When she hesitated, he said, “I have not yet seen the famous waterfall, and it will be a more edifying spectacle than the recriminations I imagine must be going on inside the Priory just now.”

  That settled the matter, for Lucy had not the heart to deal with any more arguments. Mr Coylumbroke handed her up into the curricle, clambered up himself, the tiger released the horses and scrambled up behind them, and away they went.

  Lucy had never travelled in a curricle before, and for fully ten minutes she clung to the rail round the seat in the certain conviction that the vehicle was about to be overturned or she would be tossed out of it or both. Mr Coylumbroke meanwhile kept up a gentle patter of conversation, while managing the horses so well that Lucy began to feel optimistic that she might survive the ordeal after all.

  “You are very quiet, Mrs Price,” he said after a while. “Are you quite terrified? For I shall be happy to turn back, if so.”

  “I was alarmed at first,” she said. “The seat is so far from the ground, and nothing at all to stop one falling, and just to begin with I thought you were driving rather fast. But then Mr Jarvis’s gig went by, so I realised that we are actually travelling quite slowly.”

  He laughed. “That is true, but you must not tell Leo, you know. He would rib me dreadfully if he were to find out that my greys had been overtaken by a gig, and I should be quite mortified.”

  “Oh, how shaming it must be for you to go so slow, especially when your horses are such… such sweet steppers! Is that the correct term? They are the most beautiful horses, although Mr Audley’s are very fine too, and it is so clever how much alike they are, like twins… identical twins, that is, not like Deirdre and Winifred. I love to see them toss their heads like that… the horses, I mean, not Deirdre and Winifred. Do you know, now that I am growing accustomed, I do believe I am rather enjoying myself, for the view is splendid, is it not? You are very kind to me, Mr Coylumbroke, for I should not enjoy going quicker, I think, and I shall certainly not mention the gig to Mr Audley.” She hesitated, but curiosity won out. “Have you heard anything from him yet? About whether the business he needed to attend to went well, or when he might return?”

  “I have heard nothing at all from him, but I did not expect to,” Mr Coylumbroke said. “It will take him several days to reach his destination, and then the business might take a while.”

  “Oh. He has gone some distance then. To Bath, perhaps?”

  “Not to Bath, no.” He threw her a glance, but she was gazing fixedly ahead so could not see his expression. “You like Leo, I think, Mrs Price.”

  “Oh yes! Who could not, so amiable as he is? He has always been so kind to me.”

  “Hmm.” He was silent for a few minutes, negotiating his way past a hay wagon, and then they came to the spot above the waterfall, where he stopped the curricle. There was a barouche pulled up a little further on, and a party of ladies strolled about on the small hill above the waterfall. “Do you know those people?”

  “No, they are strangers.”

  “Good, so we will not need to speak to them, but they will serve as chaperons for you. Let us get down and walk a little way to admire the view.”

  Leaving the groom holding the horses, they strolled a little distance away from the other group, to a point where they could look down on the waterfall in its gorge below.

  “Well, that is a serious disappointment,” Mr Coylumbroke said. “I had expected something a little more dramatic than that dribble.”

  Lucy giggled. “We have had very little rain recently.”

  “I expect that is it. Leo made it sound like the best waterfall in the civilised world, and probably the uncivilised, too, but I have been sadly misled. He is not always reliable, unfortunately. Mrs Price, it pleases me that you like Leo so well. He is the best of fellows, truly, and my greatest friend. We are of almost the same age, did you know that? Leo is just three days older than I am, and so we grew up to be almost as close as brothers, even though I went away to school and he did not. And as we grew up, we planned our lives together — where we would go and what we would do and who we would marry. We have had it all worked out for years. In three years’ time, when we are both thirty, we will go to London for the season and there each of us will make a suitable match. Lower ranking nobility, if we are lucky. Lady Something-or-other. You know how it goes. Or an honourable, at least. After that, we will settle down to family life, but until then — why, we are both free to enjoy ourselves, without the least thought troubling us of marriage or responsibility or anything of that nature.”

  Lucy listened to him in growing bewilderment. “You mean to tell me that he has no plan to marry yet,” she said. “That I should not expect it, is that it?”

  “I should not wish you to be disappointed,” Mr Coylumbroke said gently, as they strolled along. “Leo is a man of great charm, and it would be easy for any young lady to become attached to him, but it would not be wise, for he has no plans for marriage.”

  “Then why did he ask me?” she said indignantly.

  “Ask you what?”

  “Why, to marry him.”

  Mr Coylumbroke stopped so abruptly that Lucy was spun round. “He asked you to marry him?” She nodded. “Good God! But why? Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs Price, naturally you would entice any man to consider matrimony.”

  She laughed at that. “There is no need to be polite, for your question is the one I ask myself repeatedly, too. Why would a man like that ever look at someone like me? It is crazy! I cannot account for it in the slightest, and I can only think it was a mistake, and perhaps he was foxed.”

  “But… Mrs Price, does this mean…? Am I to wish you happy?”

  “Oh no, for I turned him down.”

  “You did not! But why? Oh, pray forgive me, that was unforgivably impertinent. I am sure you have good and sound reasons for such a decision.”

  She laughed, and shook her head. Below, the stream trickled over the rocks in a gentle gush, and an even smaller flow trickled out of the far side of the pool. The water was dark brown, like beef tea, the bubbles from the falls chasing each other downstream.

  “It seemed to me that he was not a man of proper moral habits, and perhaps he wanted a wife of no importance that he could hide away in the country while he carried on enjoying himself. I daresay you will tell me now that he is misunderstood and has done nothing so terribly wrong and… and is the best of good fellows, that is how you described him, is it not? But to me what he has done is beyond the bounds of rectitude, and I want nothing to do with him. So you need not worry, for I am quite safe from him and he is safe from me also.”

  Mr Coylumbroke patted her hand where it rested on his arm, although she was trembling a little. Her whole body was quivering, and whether it was indignation or regret that was uppermost she could not well say.

  “I will not try to explain or excuse anything, Mrs Price, for the story is not mine to tell,” he said gently. “However, if you wish to know the truth of the matter, you should ask Leo to make everything plain, for it seems to me that you are on such terms with him as would make such a course sensible. Be
sure to ask him to relate to you how he came to have such a reputation in the first place, for the tale may surprise you. And now, let us return to the Priory, or it will be your reputation at risk.”

  ~~~~~

  Leo could not wait to get back to Shropshire. He pushed his horses as hard as he dared, and snatched a meal here and there, while waiting for a fresh team to be put to the traces. The route seemed designed to vex him, for every mile of straight road was countered by a wide diversion to cross a river or bypass a hill. He had never known so tedious a journey.

  “Might as well be on the mail coach,” his valet grumbled. “Never knew you in such a hurry, sir.”

  Leo took no notice. His stay in Liverpool had taken far longer than he had expected, and once released, he wished he could fly home to Lucy like an eagle, soaring over every obstacle. And yet, he had no notion what his reception would be. Would she be cold and indifferent, as so often lately, or would she warm his heart with her lovely smile that lit up her whole face and made her eyes shine with amusement?

  Naturally, when he finally reached Longmere Priory, Lucy was out with the twins, and only Gussie was there to receive him.

  “Why have you stayed away so long, brother?” she said fretfully, not rising from her chaise longue, but holding her hand out to be bowed over. “I have been so neglected, you cannot imagine. No one comes to see me any more, and the girls are gallivanting about enjoying themselves all the time. Not that they are much company when there are here, always whispering together when they are friends, or quarrelling violently when they are not. Lucy would be company for me, but she is never here, either. It is too bad!”

  “Where is Mrs Price today? Shepherding the girls about, I daresay.”

  “No, she is not, for they are gone with the Smythe-Hunters on a picnic, if you can believe it. Sitting about in a field somewhere with biting ants, I make no doubt. I never saw the attraction in a picnic, myself. But still, Mrs Smythe-Hunter was very set on it, and her sister is staying with her so it is all perfectly unexceptionable.”

  “And Mrs Price?” he said.

  “I am coming to that. Goodness, you are impatient today, Leo. She has gone with Mr Coylumbroke to Shrewsbury, for he offered to arrange for that tapestry of Winifred’s to be framed, you know the one, of the waterfall. I do not think it is so very good, myself, but there, he took a liking to it, and thought it ought to be hung on the wall, so he has taken Mrs Price to the framer in Shrewsbury, and they are gone in the barouche so they will have a splendid drive, I am sure, and no thought of me left here all alone.”

  “To Shrewsbury? In the barouche? Alone?” he said, in rising indignation.

  “Oh no, dear! Goodness, no. Mr Coylumbroke is very particular about such things. The Miss Hardcastles have gone with them, to see the cathedral and have a pleasant repast at an inn Mr Coylumbroke knows and have a very jolly time of it. I hope the Miss Hardcastles appreciate their good fortune, and Mrs Price too, to be squired about by such a fine gentleman quite as if they were ladies, and not merely a governess, a schoolteacher and a chaperon.”

  “Really, Gussie!” he snapped. “When did you get to be so supercilious? Miss Hardcastle is a wonderful woman who practically raised both of us, and her sister is just as worthy. As for Mrs Price, she may be merely a companion now, but six months ago she was someone of importance in Brinshire, and she is still, and will always be, a gentleman’s daughter and therefore a lady. I will not have you disparaging her, do you hear?”

  And to his astonishment, she burst into tears. “Oh, brother, do not be unkind to me, for I cannot bear it! I am so unhappy, you cannot imagine, and Peter is so cold and withdrawn, and all his regard for me is quite gone and I have not the least idea what to do about it! I am sorry I said such a thing about Lucy, for she is a sweet girl and I am very fond of her”

  She ended on such a crescendo of despair that Leo could only squeeze her hand, and proffer a handkerchief. “Is it really so bad?” he said tentatively. “Some men are… not good at expressing how they feel, perhaps. I am sure Kingsley feels just as he always did towards you.”

  “No, he does not!” she wailed. “He told me so, that I have failed him and he talked about shame and horrid things like that.”

  “That is only because he is upset, I am sure,” Leo said desperately. “Once this child is safely in the world—”

  “He plans to take the baby away from me, he said so. He thinks me a bad mother, not to be trusted! Oh Leo, whatever shall I do?”

  Leo soothed her as best he could, but he felt helplessly ill-equipped to deal with such outpourings. Lucy would be the best person in the world to restore Gussie’s equanimity. So when he heard the approach of a carriage, and saw that it was the barouche, he rushed outside to intercept it.

  “Mrs Price, Mrs Price!” he called, flying down the steps from the entrance. “Please will you come? Gussie is distressed.”

  Her face lit up when she saw him, and his foolish heart turned somersaults at the pleasure he saw there. She was glad to see him! He opened the carriage door and unthinkingly reached up to lift her down. And there she was, smiling up at him as his hands rested on her waist and every rational thought vanished from his mind in an instant.

  “You are back at last!” she said, laughing up at him.

  “Yes.” What a stupid thing to say.

  “Poor Augusta! Of course I will come at once, if she does not mind my dust.” Then she laughed. “Thank you, Mr Audley, I believe I may walk unaided.”

  He was still holding her! Stammering something unintelligible, he released her, his eyes following as she moved towards the house.

  “Leo, are you listening to me?”

  “What? Oh… Tom. I beg your pardon. Good day to you, Miss Hardcastle, Miss Emily. I trust you enjoyed your outing? Excuse me, I must… just dash away. Forgive me.”

  Taking the steps two at a time, he caught up with Lucy in the hall, where she was divesting herself of bonnet and gloves and spencer and parasol.

  “Have you enjoyed yourself?” he blurted. It was not at all what he had meant to say, but it would do. “Have you… had many outings?”

  “A few. We went bluebell picking in the woods on the Welsh road, and we were to go to the big lake except that Mrs Exton thought it would rain, although it did not. Oh, and Mr Coylumbroke took me out in his curricle, which was very exciting. We went to the waterfall, although there was not much water in it since we have had so little rain. Oh, this wretched ribbon! One ties one’s bonnet with such care, yet the ribbon always ends up knotted, somehow. It is one of life’s great mysteries. There! Now I shall go and see Augusta.” She smiled at him again, that stomach-churning, breathtaking, heart-stopping smile. “I am glad you are come back, Mr Audley. I had quite begun to wonder what had become of you.”

  And with a whisk of grey silk, she disappeared into the morning room, leaving him shaking from head to toe.

  Tom had taken her out in his curricle? And today he had taken her to Shrewsbury. Dear heaven, what a fool he had been to go away and leave her with so personable a man as Tom Coylumbroke. Was he too late? Had he lost her? How on earth could he bear it?

  18: Parasols And Pipes

  Leo stumbled through the rest of the day in a dream, or perhaps it would be more apt to call it a nightmare. Just when he might have made a little progress with Lucy, Tom had snatched her away from him. He dressed for dinner, he mingled in the saloon with the guests for the evening, the Smythe-Hunters and the interminably boring Miss Watfords, and was pleased to see Gussie looking quite restored to her usual convivial self. Lucy had worked wonders there! He avoided Lucy, and Tom too. As to what he said or did, or what topics of conversation were addressed, he could not have said.

  Kingsley was morose, as usual, but when he withdrew to his library after dinner, as was now his habit, Leo followed him.

  “May I disturb you for a few minutes to talk in private, sir? I shall not keep you for long.”

  Kingsley grunted. “Yes, come in,
Audley. Sit down. Been meaning to have a word with you. Had another letter from that Mason fellow. Quite a different story this time. Now where is it? It should be here somewhere… Ah, here it is. There! Read that. Quite exonerates you.”

  Leo skimmed the letter briefly, but it was much as he had expected. He handed it back without a word.

  “Thought that might be it, when you left in a big hurry. Went there to buy her silence, I suppose.”

  “No, I went there to persuade her to tell the truth,” Leo said, trying to contain his temper. “Which she did, when asked to swear on the Bible. She had been fooling round with a farmer’s son, and thought to make capital of it.”

  “So that is the story, is it? She is to be married off hastily and you are in the clear. How much did that little arrangement cost you?”

  “Not a penny piece, since I am innocent of any wrongdoing in the matter,” he said, his voice rising in indignation. “Do you know, Kingsley, as my brother-in-law, it would be kind in you to offer me the benefit of the doubt on such occasions, and not automatically assume the worst. I am no saint, I freely admit, but I am not at all as wicked as rumour paints me. In this particular case, I have been very much wronged.”

  “Hmph. Very well, I shall allow you to be the injured party in this particular instance. Is that all you wanted?”

  “No. I should like to talk to you about Gussie.”

  “Not your concern, Audley.”

  “She is my sister, and you will allow me the right to be solicitous for her health and her happiness, surely. She was most distressed when I arrived earlier today because she believes you intend to take the baby away from her when it is born.”

  Kingsley’s expression changed, and Leo could see the bluster change to something else. Not fear, exactly, but perhaps grief? He decided it was wise to step carefully.

  “Look,” he went on, in what he hoped was a placatory tone, “it is none of my business, of course, Kingsley, and no one has the right to interfere between husband and wife. It is for you to determine how best to manage your wife and child. All I should like is some assurance that you have good reason for your actions. Then I can do my part to reassure Gussie that you have her best interests at heart. Or the baby’s, perhaps, for she would support any action to prevent harm to this child.”