by Lord Tom
Peg shifted complainingly in the seat, as if she were used to a more luxurious form of travel. Susan frowned at the tiresome girl, her sense of humour momentarily gone. At least she would soon be rid of her! That was one thing she need not regret.
But she had to admit to herself that she would regret losing Lord Harleston’s company. She had never experienced anything quite so pleasurable as planning this escapade with him, despite her early reservations. She smiled rather wistfully at the thought of hay in his wind-tossed hair. It seemed so natural, somehow, to think of him up there on the box, taking her to safety—not so much as her groom, but just taking care of her. How easily she had come to think of him as Tom. But of course she mustn’t! Lord Harleston had already risked too much by embroiling himself in her troublesome affairs. She must not think of him as her friend. Friendship with a woman who was wanted by the authorities could only harm him. Susan tried to think of the pleasure of seeing her governess again, but in spite of her sincere devotion to that lady, found it hard to imagine her face. A pair of laughing, brown-gold eyes kept swimming in the way.
Up on the box, Tom whistled to himself and cracked his whip to urge on a sluggish wheeler. The leaders’ pace suited his humour to a T. In case the authorities had somehow leapt to a suspicion of Susan’s identity, he had chosen to detour south and west towards the Folkstone road to London. It would add a bit to their time, but should give a measure of security.
Without Peg’s sultry eyes upon him, he was free to indulge an inclination to laugh over the morning’s work. Even the memory of the male passenger on board ship brought a smile to his lips. The fellow had really been taken with Susan—Miss Johnstone, that is, Tom reminded himself. But who wouldn’t be?
He remembered her exquisite profile as she had gazed blissfully out to sea, the wind ruffling the gentle curls at her ears. Something stirred within him and he had to recall himself to the business of guiding the horses before they bolted from the sudden tension in his hands. It was too bad, he reflected, that they could not ride in comfort together rather than separated by the etiquette of the coach. Perhaps when they reached London and got rid of Peg, some other arrangement might be made. He searched his mind for a different solution, but could not think of one which would accomplish their mission and still serve the proprieties. Damn the proprieties!
It might be nice if Peg and she could change places, he thought fancifully. Certainly the servant girl had had no worries about her reputation when she had joined him on the box. He could still feel the warmth on his left side where she had pressed herself against him. Quite a handful, that one, but not for him. He would never consider using his masquerade to deceive the poor wench. Not that he thought a little deceit would trouble Peg overmuch, but if she were with them much longer, her overtures might become a problem. He could not blame her for making the most of her situation, for as long as she was in service she would be closely watched and forbidden to be with a man. She was just taking her chance on finding a husband before it was too late. With her buxom figure she should not have much trouble.
But his tastes ran more to dark-haired, willowy ladies, with a gentle manner and a courageous heart. He would be saying goodbye to Susan in a matter of hours, he realized, and yet here he was urging the horses on to the end of their journey. He started to pull them up, but came to the conclusion that it would not do him much good. It would only prolong getting rid of Peg. And Susan could not share the box with him, on any account. He must do what he could to protect her name.
Of course, the next task would be to seek a pardon for her defiance of the law. He would work on that as soon as he resumed his own identity. Lord Harleston had little fear he would be unable to clear her somehow, but that could take time. He had already left word with his staff not to expect him back for several weeks. He would stay in London, working towards her pardon, and, of course, travelling back and forth to give Susan reports of his progress.
The first person to approach would be the Prince’s equerry. Thank heavens Captain Johnstone had been such a dandy, for the Prince, if he recalled, had admired his style of dress. And the captain had never been so unwise as to criticize his sovereign’s less successful attempts to emulate Beau Brummel. Captain Johnstone’s heroism in the Peninsula, too, should go a long way in his favour. Prinny was a sentimentalist. He had been known to break down in tears upon hearing a sad story. Surely he could be made to forgive the rash act of a tenderhearted daughter upon seeing her father, a national hero, near death.
Yes, he must request an audience with the Regent as soon as possible. It would then be just a matter of weeks. Meanwhile, he could be priming the Regent’s advisers to smooth his way, and it would not hurt to broach the subject with Lady Hertford, the Prince’s current object of affection.
Tom had just reached this point in his thinking when something ahead on the road captured his attention. It appeared to be an overturned carriage, and as he approached he spied two figures seated beside it in the ditch.
He pulled up the chaise and called back to Susan. “There seems to be an accident up ahead, madam. Shall I stop the carriage?”
Susan stuck her head out the window and uttered a little cry at the forlorn sight in front of her. “Oh, yes, Tom. Zat is, oui, oui, bien sûr!”
The carriage and its inhabitants, as they saw when they came nearer, made a rather peculiar picture. The coach itself, enormous in size, was covered in black silk and, although it might have been in the first style of elegance more than fifty years before, was now something of a relic. It appeared to have lost an axle; the wheel must have collapsed. Indeed, the whole contraption appeared to be crumbling before their very eyes.
Beside it were two elderly people. A lady of unbelievable antiquity—also in black silk—sat in some disarray with her feet in the ditch. Her companion, a servant of some kind, was, if possible, even older and more fragile. They both were clearly shaken by the disaster.
“Oh, you poor dears!” cried Susan, scarcely waiting for Tom to hand her down. A squeeze from Tom’s hand reminded her to play her role, so she hastily added, “Les pauvres! What ’as ’appened?” She lifted her veil in order to speak to the aged victims.
The two elderly people struggled to their feet, each endeavouring to help the other, and Tom and Susan hurried to add their assistance.
“How good of you to stop,” said the lady in a quavering voice. “Our carriage overturned, as you can see. I cannot think what happened. It is my best travelling coach.”
Susan glanced back at the coach with some surprise and avoided Tom’s eye. “Of course you cannot. Such a ’andsome carriage as it was—I am certain somes’ing can be done for it. But we must get you to a place of comfort. My name is Suzanne Faringdon.” She had decided rather abruptly that she could no longer pretend to have a limited vocabulary. The situation demanded complete sentences at the very least. Tom would have to be satisfied with a slight Gallic intonation.
“And I am Lady Mewhinny, my dear,” replied the old lady. “That is mew, like a cat, and whinny, like a horse. Mewhinny. Are you from Scotland?”
Susan started and, as Tom turned away to hide a smile, replied in a rather wounded voice, “Non, non, my lady. I am French. My ’usband, ’e was an Englishman.” She hoped a slight exaggeration would settle the matter.
“And you are widowed,” Lady Mewhinny guessed sadly. “And you such a pretty young woman. I am a widow, too, my dear, though Sir William died when I was somewhat older than you are now. Could your man take a look at my carriage to see what needs to be done to right it? Perhaps we can go along in it.”
Susan eyed the miserable heap of wood and black silk with a great deal of doubt, but, trying to make her request sound like an order, asked Tom to do his best. Then she offered Lady Mewhinny her arm to take her back to Lord Harleston’s carriage where she could be seated more comfortably.
The frail lady (eighty-five if she was a day, thought Susan) made slow progress back to the chaise. “I cannot think wh
at is the matter with me,” she said finally. “I scarcely seem to know my own limbs.”
“You ’ave been dreadfully shaken!” replied Susan, aching with pity for the poor lady. “It is no wonder you are not quite right.”
“I suppose so,” Lady Mewhinny agreed. “To tell the truth, I do not think Vigor feels quite the thing, either. I hardly like to ask him to help your groom.”
“Vigor?” Susan asked blankly.
“Yes, my groom. He is directly descended from the Roman invaders on both sides,” she explained proudly. “He is from Sussex, you see. His mother’s name was Venus and his father’s, Avis. You can see it in his nose, of course.”
“’Is nose?”
“Of course, my dear. Why surely you must have noticed his Roman nose!”
Susan looked back over her shoulder at the thin, stooped creature hovering over the doomed carriage but managed to keep the smile from her voice. “I am afraid I did not, Lady Mewhinny. But I was so concerned about you, I must ’ave been razzer unobservant.”
Lady Mewhinny laid a wasted hand on Susan’s and patted it kindly. “Aren’t you a dear,” she said. Her voice had lost its quavering quality. “You must not worry about me; I am certain your man will have the carriage righted shortly.”
But no sooner had Lady Mewhinny been settled comfortably in Susan’s chaise than she was proven wrong. When Tom stepped up to the window to make his report, Susan saw that his breeches had taken on a vast quantity of mud.
“I’m afraid it’s no use, milady,” he said in the humblest of tones. “It’s going to take more than one man to set your coach to rights.”
“Oh, bother!” exclaimed Lady Mewhinny. “Now we shall be delayed.”
Susan looked at Lord Harleston and noticed a streak of mud across his forehead. He was holding up magnificently, but she could see the relief in his expression. He obviously thought they were about to resolve the episode. But they could not leave Lady Mewhinny and Vigor here.
Directing Tom a subtly pleading glance, Susan said, “You must let us convey you somewhere, Lady Mewhinny. Was your destination ’ere in ze vicinity?”
“Oh, no, I could not trouble you to do that!” protested the older woman. “You were on a journey of your own. I would not think of interrupting it more than I already have!”
“But zat is absurd!” cried Susan, more than ever wishing to help. The frail lady’s courage touched her deeply. “We were just on our way to London. But zere is no urgency; we ‘ave no business zere. A slight delay will not inconvenience us in ze least.” She could sense the widening of his lordship’s eyes.
Lady Mewhinny offered no further protest. “Then I accept,” she said. “It is most kind of you to offer. To tell the truth, I had worried about Vigor.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “He is not as young as he used to be, though you might not think it. You see, he was already in Sir William’s service when I married him in 1749.”
Susan’s eyes opened with incredulity and Tom put a quick hand to his mouth to stifle a cough. “Non, I should never s’ink it,” said Susan hastily. “Now where may we set you down?”
Lady Mewhinny sat a bit straighter in her seat and placed her hands on her lap with a curiously authoritative gesture. “That will be quite simple. My estates are in Sussex, near Heathfield. Do not be concerned if your man doesn’t know the way,” she added at Susan’s look of surprise. “Vigor shall ride up on the box beside him and direct him. Then I hope you will be so good as to accept my hospitality while your man comes back for my carriage.”
Susan opened her mouth in shock. Had she really heard that correctly? Was Lady Mewhinny proposing such an imposition on a peer of the realm? She started to protest, “But Lord...” and was fortunately cut off by another cough from Tom. “...Tom,” she finished lamely, directing a helpless look in his direction.
“Lord Tom?” repeated Lady Mewhinny, turning her head back and forth between them in confusion.
Tom stepped quickly into the breach. “Yes, milady. Lord Tom. That’s what the master had a way of calling me. He said I got above my station from time to time.”
Lady Mewhinny inclined her head with good humour. “All the better,” she said, suddenly cheerful. “You will need a touch of authority to get any assistance from the louts in this part of the Weald. They are not so energetic as we are in Sussex. Now let us be off, shall we? It is over thirty miles.”
Susan and Tom looked at each other speechlessly. Thirty miles and the day was almost gone! Then Susan realized that her face must have betrayed her anguish for Tom gave her a smile of reassurance before bowing to both ladies.
“Certainly, milady. Madam,” he finished, pulling his forelock for Susan’s benefit.
Within a few minutes, he had helped his ancient guide onto the box and they were on their way.
Susan sank back against the cushioned sides of the carriage Lord Harleston had provided. Heedless of Lady Mewhinny’s presence, she pulled her veil down over her eyes and closed them tightly. What had she done now? She should never have allowed Lord Harleston to talk her into this mad escapade. Look at the muddle they were in now, and all because she was too impulsive to think before she acted. He would never forgive her after this day’s work. Or at least, she thought, remembering his reassuring smile, he certainly ought not to.
The carriage rolled faster and faster over the bumpy roads. There was no direct route to Heathfield, it seemed, for they had to take every market road that twisted between Ashford and Lady Mewhinny’s estate.
It soon grew dark, and Tom had to stop at an inn to obtain extra lanterns to light the way. Susan and Lady Mewhinny used the stop to freshen themselves and have a light repast before climbing back into the carriage. Lady Mewhinny insisted upon paying for their fare, but Susan found it hard to eat, wondering if Tom was getting something to sustain him through the night. She gave orders to the effect that the servants should be fed, but had no idea how well they would be carried out. Peg, who had offered no assistance throughout the day, was sent to see to it that the others got to eat. From the gleam in Peg’s eye, Susan felt secure that she would at least locate Tom. The thought was not particularly comforting.
Once back inside the carriage, Susan vowed to herself that she would not go to sleep while Lord Harleston could not do the same. Lady Mewhinny dozed comfortably in a corner, seemingly indifferent to the bouncing of the chaise. Peg, although still rather sulky about riding backward, seemed less petulant than before. Susan glanced at her from time to time, wondering what attention, if any, the girl had received from Tom. It would not seem natural to Peg for him to ignore her, she well knew, but she wondered to what lengths Lord Harleston would feel obliged to go for verisimilitude.
It had been a long day. Susan had risen at five o’clock to make ready for their voyage, and no amount of resolve could counter that fact. To her later mortification, she dropped off to sleep and made little attempt to keep awake when little jerks of the carriage brought her abruptly to herself.
When she finally awoke, it was near dawn the next day and Tom had slowed the horses’ pace to turn into a long alley. Lady Mewhinny was regarding her complacently. She seemed fully restored from her accident, despite a journey which would have caused many women to take to their beds.
“Ah, I see you are awake,” she said, smiling. “And just when we’re arriving. This is the lane to Kittycall Manor. Your man seems to have found it without one wrong turn.”
“Kittycall?” Susan repeatedly dazedly, forgetting her accent.
“Yes,” Lady Mewhinny said with a chuckle. “Sir William’s people had quite a sense of humour. It is on account of the name, of course. Mew, you know.”
“Oh, quite,” Susan said. She fumbled in her reticule for a comb and straightened her hair as well as she could without a mirror. She was dreading the sight of Tom and wanted to look her best when she faced him. It was certain to be the last time.
Peg was still snoring as they drew up before the manor and Susan had to
rouse her before they could assist Lady Mewhinny to her feet. The house was an impressive Palladian structure with three great sections joined in the shape of a U, but Susan paid it scant attention. Her eyes sought Tom in the crowd of aged servants who seemed suddenly to envelop them.
Tom had descended from the carriage and was leaning tiredly against one of the wheels, but he straightened as she alighted. Their eyes met above the heads of the servants and Susan winced at the redness in his. He stepped forward to meet her just as Lady Mewhinny took her arm.
“Might I have a word with you, Mrs. Faringdon?” he said hurriedly.
“Of course, T-Tom,” said Susan, glancing at Lady Mewhinny helplessly. “What is it?”
Lord Harleston looked at the elderly lady and back at Susan, giving an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. It couldn’t be helped.
“I just wanted to reassure you, madam, that I’ll be back with the carriage as soon as possible. You needn’t worry.” The look in his eyes spoke volumes.
Lord Harleston’s concern for her nearly wrung Susan’s heart. “Oh, you must not be worried about me, Tom,” she said earnestly. “I am certain I shall be fine. But you must get some rest,” she added, “and somes’ing to eat before setting out. Must said ’e not, Lady Mewhinny?” she pleaded as she saw the slight shake to his head.
“Yes, Tom. There’s a good fellow,” said Lady Mewhinny. “Be off with you now and Vigor will tell you how to go on. Bates,” she said, calling to her elderly butler who, nevertheless, seemed a child in comparison to his mistress, “see to it that Mrs. Faringdon’s groom is given something to eat before he sets out.”
“Yes, milady,” Bates intoned with wounded dignity. He clearly did not stand in need of instruction.