Ianthe and the Fighting Foxes: The Fentons Book 4

by Alicia Cameron

  'Miss Richards,' said the outraged voice of Lady Fox. 'No greeting?'

  'Good morning.' Sally did not spare her a glance but looked at the other two ladies, whose arms were frozen in mid-air over their work, mouths slightly agape. 'Ianthe!' prodded the urgent tone.

  Ianthe began to rise, her eyes fully opened with intrigue and dancing a little, as Lady Richards managed, 'Sally dear, whatever—'

  'And you have ridden,' interrupted Lady Fox, finally taking in Miss Richards' red velvet habit.

  'Yes,' said Sally, looking at her coldly for half a second.

  'Against my direct—' began Her Ladyship, but Sally interrupted the tirade.

  'At Audley,' she said tersely, then she swept from the room, Ianthe following, hardly able to keep a grin from her face as she curtsied briefly to Lady Fox.

  Ianthe caught her up in the hall, capturing her arm to halt Sally's passage to the stairs.

  'What is the matter, Sally dear?'

  The great front doors had opened again, and Audley walked in, handing his hat and crop to a footman.

  'He is!' Sally hissed at her, finger pointing across the ten-foot gap to the marquis. Ianthe blinked, met Audley's haunted eye briefly, then realised that Sally was marching once more, and turned to follow her up the stairs.

  ***

  Ianthe watched as Sally Richards threw herself seated on the bed of her chamber, her wrath seeming to dissipate somewhat with a large expulsion of air.

  'What did he do?' enquired Ianthe, amused and concerned at once, sitting beside her.

  'It is what he will not do!' said Sally, closing her eyes to control the once more mounting rage. 'How can one find out that one loves someone and that one wants to kill him — all in the same day.'

  Ianthe conjured up another face in her head and nodded in agreement. 'It is quite possible,' she concluded.

  Sally looked at her, understanding her. 'Edward still will not hear you?'

  'No. I'm hoping Mr Fenton might persuade him. But do tell what happened with Audley. Why has he returned from London?'

  'To torture me!' Sally said wrathfully. 'And why should I tell you — you have refused to say what happened to you yesterday.'

  'That is because I want to tell you all at once or not at all. And Edward—' she sighed. 'Never mind. My story is not as interesting as yours, I'll wager. Tell me what stupid thing Audley did.'

  'I thought you told me he had address?' said Sally sulkily. 'He has no finesse at all. He neither says what he ought, nor holds back what he ought not. I hate him.' During the latter sentence her rage had built again, and Ianthe put an arm around her shoulder to calm her.

  'Tell me,' she said again.

  'He called me,' sobbed Sally, '… he called me his lovely, lovely …'

  'His lovely, lovely what?' asked Ianthe.

  'That is all!' cried Sally, aggrieved.

  'That complete idiot!' cried Ianthe, but smiling a little.

  'I know!' her friend said, beginning to hiccup.

  Sally burst into tears of both fury and despair, casting herself into her friend's arms. Ianthe held her and let her go her distance, waiting until she could do more than utter half sentences and cry. But Ianthe's spirits were broken also, and it was not long before she, too, burst into relieving tears, saying, as Sally had in the hall, 'Men!'

  ***

  Lady Richards’ spell in Purgatory was interrupted by her love's arrival.

  After making his formal greeting to Lady Fox, who eyed him with dislike and disapprobation, he said, in that oddly bald way he had, 'I am come to take Lady Richards on her walk.'

  'We are at our work, sir, as you see,' answered Lady Fox.

  'Then I must disturb you, I fear,' said Steadman, insistent.

  Lady Fox found that the grey eyes of the polite Mr Steadman were not as yeilding as she had first thought, so she nodded her head permissively, then turned back to her work in disdain.

  'Come, Emma!' Steadman said, opening the door and Emma Richards escaped the room like a young girl escaping the confines of the schoolroom.

  'I shall run and get my things.'

  'I have sent for them already.' A small maid came down the stairs bearing bonnet, pelisse and leather boots.

  Once outside, Her Ladyship caught her love's arm, saying, 'I do not think I want a very long walk today, Mr Steadman, we have had the most upsetting time.' She looked up at him shyly. 'Though I do want to stay with you, of course.'

  'It is not a long walk,' he said briefly. She wondered that his serious face was not a mystery but a promise to her now, and moved along on his arm, her peace restoring.

  He took her to a spot just outside the formal gardens. Emma Richards saw at once that he had chosen well if rather worryingly. The tiny clearing was surrounded by trees. There was no possibility of being overlooked, of being unable to hear another approach. There was a simple wooden bench placed there, and Emma Richards assumed that other owners of the great house had had trysts there, for it was evidently made for the purpose. She tried to imagine Lady Fox and her husband sitting on the bench, but somehow, she could not. But perhaps old Lord Fox, with Edward's mama …? Once, Edward had told her, Studham had been a happy house.

  Steadman led her to the seat and sat close, an arm about her shoulder. She should not, perhaps, but she sank against his shoulder, sighing, 'My dearest dear. My dearest Mr Steadman.'

  'Oscar,' he instructed. 'My Emma.'

  'I jumped when you called me so before Lady Fox.'

  'She is a woman who needs the obvious underlined.'

  'How can you be so wise when you know her so little?'

  'Her reputation in the neighbourhood tells me a great deal.'

  'I suppose she must have upset half her neighbours,' Emma giggled.

  'The fraction is higher.' He looked down at her. 'Will you take off your bonnet, love?'

  She sat up and did so, with trembling fingers, and Steadman helped. 'Do not worry,' he said in that serious tone, his eyes directly on hers as he loosened the ribbons. 'I shall not kiss your lips.' She blinked. 'I dare not.'

  He removed the bonnet, placed it carefully, then smoothed her hair with one caressing hand. He smiled as he looked at her difficulty in breathing, at her parted lips. 'Darling!' he murmured, catching her to him, 'My darling!'

  He pulled away ten minutes later, and her face was ablaze with every inch that he had kissed (excepting only her lips), with every promise he had whispered. Both of them were shaken, and Steadman took a great breath, still holding her shoulders. She gazed up at him, her face open with love, too hypnotised to stop. 'Don't, love, or I shall have to start all over again.'

  'Oscar!' she breathed.

  He stood up abruptly.

  'Let us leave this place,' he said, not turning back. His voice was harsh, but Emma Richards laughed to herself, putting on her bonnet.

  She stood and slid her hand through his arm.

  'Only six weeks now,' he told her, and they moved off together.

  They walked the grounds and she began to tell him of Sally's discovery of Ianthe's feelings for Fox, and her new worry about her. She looked a trifle embarrassed. 'Sally was in such a rage as I have never seen her earlier. I would have gone to her immediately, but she somehow wanted to talk to Ianthe.' She looked a little conscious. 'We are so very close that I thought we told each other everything,' she added sadly.

  'However close you are, she will not want to tell you what might make you worry. As you do not her.'

  'That makes it worse, Oscar dear,' Emma said. 'It means it is some serious consideration, and I'm more worried than ever.'

  'She will share the cause of her anger with Ianthe, calm down a little, and then discuss it rationally with you later, I'm sure.'

  'You are right, of course,' said Emma, relieved. 'That is just what is happening. I can go to them now and she will tell me.' She smiled at him. 'Are you going back to Audley?'

  'No. I have some business to discuss with Fenton, and possibly Fox. And it may
be that Audley is here too. His carriage is in the stables, Lady Aurora came with the marquis from London, she said, but Audley did not come into his house. I thought he might be here.'

  'Perhaps. I have been setting stitches with Lady Fox, so I do not know.'

  It is only that her heart was so full of her love that caused Lady Richards' motherly instincts to sleep for a moment. Had she considered the three facts she knew — one, that her daughter had ridden, on her own, at Audley this morning; two, that her daughter was unnaturally enraged; and three, that the Marquis of Audley was no longer in London — she might have suspected much more than she did. But, as she ordered refreshments to be sent to her daughter's room, where a maid had told her she was to find the young ladies, she walked up in complete ignorance of the facts at issue.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Curtis At Home

  Nancy Badger had already been asked by Mr Plodgitt, the landlord of the Crown and Sceptre Inn, about her conversation with Mr Steadman. Li’l Davie the groom, who was but five-foot tall, had a grudge against her, having once tried to kiss her after church when she was still a scullery maid and she had pushed him off. Li'l Davie had, that day after church, taken his violent dismissal without rancour, but when he'd next month seen Bill Badger, the farrier's apprentice, being granted the boon he was denied, he'd taken against her. Working at the inn gave him numerous opportunities to make her life difficult, all of which she dealt with dexterously.

  'Whyn't ye jist tell Bill?' said Mrs Higgins the cook, after witnessing the girl being tripped up by a dirty straw-and-mud stained boot, Nancy dropping several plates which were afterwards taken out of her wages by the furious Mr Plodgitt.

  'And have me visit him in county gaol? He wouldn't mean to, but I fink a blow from Bill would snap the li'l one in two.'

  'Evil li'l imp. I hope the faeries take him back soon!' Nancy had laughed. 'Want me to 'ave a word with ol' Plodgitt?'

  ''E don't care. They is two of a kind.'

  It was true that the landlord's genial, sugared demeanour to the guests seemed to curdle his own stomach and made him full of bile to his staff. But Nancy knew she couldn't work in no big house no more, being married, and that she was lucky to find work at the inn, so nearly situated to her husband.

  So, it was not without fear that she kept an eye on the Frenchie. The landlord had warned her, if Li'l Davie proved right and she was talking about the guests, he would dismiss her on the spot. Nancy had told him that Davie's tongue was forked and that she were just talking to Mr Steadman, because, as Mr Plodgitt knew, he was her kind former master. Plodgitt had known it, and also that Davie was a sneak besides, so he let it go with the dire warning. Nancy and Bill needed the shillings she worked for, so she had to be careful what she was about. She knew what Bill would say about this without asking. Anything for Mr Steadman, who had encouraged the smith to let Badger, just back from his years of being a journeyman, and now a master farrier, work out of his shop. The smith had shod horses himself and was not sure he needed the help, but Mr Steadman persuaded him, pointing out the number of people he had had to send away to Farnham and further, when he could have all the local business to themselves. On top of that, Mr Steadman had given the couple a handsome wedding gift. No, Bill would know her risk, but agree with her.

  The Frenchie had taken out a gig today, and when she heard this, Nancy had been disappointed, for except for being able to know the direction he had set off in, there was no way of knowing what he was up to. Granny Chester, Bill and she had discussed the landau and the lady's accoutrements therein, and all had agreed that it was a case of planned abduction. Mr Steadman had visited the Frenchie once, said the bald-headed waiter, along with Lady Richards and the new and beautiful young lady who had not long arrived from France herself, it seemed. So, it wasn't hard to conclude who he might be after. Mr Steadman would be aware, she was sure, and would warn Lord Fox to keep an eye on her. Granny Chester, infirm in body but not in mind, had relished the tale, saying with glee, 'I'd love to set me only good eye on that fog-swindling, snail-gobbing snatcher. I'd feed 'im 'is guts for gaiters.'

  But the Frenchie made mistakes, for he took a groom with him that day, and moreover he'd thought that half a sovereign would stop Dickory's mouth. Dickory was likely to tell you about his trips to the outhouse if you'd let him, so something as interesting as a foreign comte driving country lanes and asking, after a time, which of them might lead back to the main post road to Dover was too good to pass on. Dickory had told the comte not to look so hard, since it was only two miles direct to the Dover road, but the comte had not been interested. 'I would like to see more of the scenery, and drive through your amusing English farms. They are much different from les fermes en France, quite different.' Dickory thought all foreigners odd, so he hadn't been fazed by this. They ate frogs, so maybe the farms in France raised monkeys instead of cows for all he knew. He could think of some less than amusing English farmers who might not be pleased at an excursionist blocking his lanes with a landau coach. The comte might be Quality but being Frenchie Quality didn't much count. Finally, he'd given the groom the half-sovereign to shut up, which caused Dickory to mouth off even more.

  'What route did he favour, in the end?' asked Nancy.

  'Funny that,' said Dickory, 'he said he might take Cowper Hill road.'

  'Barely passable for a big rig in places, that,' remarked Mrs Higgins, who was feeding Dickory some bread and dripping.

  'Yes, but he said he was keen on it, said it would work for him. Seemed mighty taken wif the bit of the road we drove. Liked the views apparently.'

  'And the whiff of muck, no doubt. Well, there's no saying what them Frenchies might do.'

  'No, had said Nancy, thinking. 'But did you drive Calderbeck Farm too, Dicks?'

  'We did, Nance. He didn't seem much interested.'

  'Mmmm,' said Nancy, going upstairs to clean.

  She had tidied the gentleman's room earlier, safe in the knowledge that he was out. Nancy, an honourable girl, nevertheless only hesitated for a moment. Having decided to pry, it was necessary to do it thoroughly. After she had marvelled at the fineness of his linen, the invisible stitching on his coat and the incredible contents of the wooden box (hidden beneath the bed and behind his portmanteau) she searched in pockets, examined his silver hair brush, smelt the preparation he used on his hair (which reeked like a woman's). She had only the small sack that had been delivered a few hours ago to deal with. Inside was something wrapped in linen. Another box, but prettier than the rosewood one, in coloured enamels. It looked like it belonged to a lady, but there were semi-naked people painted on it, dancing. But Nancy had worked in a great house before. Shocking pictures on the walls were permitted when they depicted the ancient past, it seemed. 'Something Greek!' she told herself, looking at the enamels. She carefully replaced the pretty box and was disappointed that she had not much to tell Mr Steadman.

  Her opinion on that changed after Dickory had spoken that late afternoon, and something else was still nagging at her when she had gone home, exhausted, to Granny Chester's cottage, where Bill was taking off his boots at the door.

  'You're late this evening,' she said lovingly, picking up the leather apron he had laid aside and feeling an unusual weight.

  'A carriage stopped, a fine one, there was a beautiful lady inside too,' he teased her. 'One of the horses threw a shoe.'

  'A lady?' Bill looked and saw that his Nancy's brain was working. 'She went to the inn, didn't she? I saw her just as I left.'

  'I think she knows Mr Steadman. She was with that party of folks from Studham who were walking around the village the other week. The marquis was with them too.'

  It didn't surprise Nancy that Bill knew this; the entire village had gawped at such a collection of swells walking around all in the same day. Friends of the local gentry. London folks.

  'She might not have gone yet! She was just having some supper sent in.' Nancy kissed her seated husband's head and said, 'I have to go
back, Bill. I'll shouldn't be more 'n' a 'alf 'our.'

  'Don't get caught by Splodgitt!' he called after her, and she laughed at the nickname.

  Five minutes later, Lady Aurora Fenton, in the finest bonnet ever seen in the village, approached the carriage in the inn yard. She was surprised to see a young girl beside it, but even more so when the pretty young damsel whispered, looking over her shoulder, ‘Excuse me my lady, but might I come inside? I have something particular to say to you and I cannot do so here.’ Lady Aurora, looking at that pretty, open face, made a decision. She was ever attracted by the unusual, so she waved off her maid and gestured the girl inside the carriage.

  'Could we drive on a-ways, my lady? I hear you are going to Studham, and that Mr Steadman is there now. And I got a comp-li-cated message for him, begging your pardon, my lady.'

  'Steadman? Is he?' said Lady Aurora. She gave the sign to drive on, telling her maid to wait in the inn, she would send the carriage back, and then gave the sign to stop a little while outside the village.

  'Who are you?' said Lady Aurora, but since her smile was warm and her expression avid, Nancy did not fear. 'Is this message concerning the comte?'

  'However did you know, my lady?'

  'It is Lady Aurora Fenton. I think that Mr Steadman, indeed a great many others, are concerned about the presence of the comte in the area.'

  'So they should be, in my opinion, your ladyship,’ said the girl with some ferocity.

  Lady Aurora’s eyes danced. 'Tell me.'

  'Well, I told Mr Steadman earlier about the landau and the small cloak bag.'

  'Tell me now!'

  Nancy did. 'So, it made me worry, my lady. And I was sure it might concern the young lady just come back from France herself. The one who is at Studham now.'

  'Very intelligent,' approved Lady Aurora. 'And you have more to say to Mr Steadman?'

  'The trouble is, none of it is very clear. The Frenchie, sorry my lady, the com-mont drove about in a gig today with a groom. He paid the groom to say nuffing, but he paid the wrong man.'

  'Lax of mouth, I take it?'