The Last Gamble

by Mary Nichols

‘You are certainly not a nobody,’ he said softly. ‘But I think you must like to keep people guessing. Perhaps you are a princess. Yes, a princess, travelling alone and incognito for a dare.’

  She laughed suddenly. ‘How clever of you to guess.’

  He fell silent at what was obviously a put-down, and concentrated on driving. They turned onto a broader, straighter road and he risked a trot. He hated secrets. Ever since Arabella had deceived him, he had found it difficult to trust any woman. And this one was more infuriating than most, managing to parry every enquiry, every light-hearted conjecture, so that he was eaten with curiosity.

  But wasn’t that what she wanted, for his interest to be aroused, for him to be charmed by her? No one could be so ingenuous and yet so compellingly feline. A kitten, a kitten with claws, that’s what she was. Spirited and headstrong, she would be a handful for any man, but a handful a man could rejoice in.

  He turned to look at her, sitting beside him, drinking in the air as if it were wine. Wine. She had been funny when tipsy, funny and lovely, and in her shift utterly desirable. It had taken all his resolve to leave her, even for a few hours’ sleep. And now she was sitting beside him, not in a stuffy coach but on the narrow wooden seat of the box, in full view of the outside passengers, but private just the same, in a world of their own.

  Helen sat upright, enjoying the feel of the cool air on her face, the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves hitting the road, the creak of the carriage. She was so high up, she could see over the hedgerows for miles, could see across the fields where the grazing cows looked up without interest as they passed and the workers in the fields waved them on.

  This was good hunting country and away on the horizon, she saw a band of huntsmen galloping after a fox; she glimpsed its red back and tail disappearing into a copse and found herself wishing it would escape. And there a kestrel swooped and then rose with a small creature in its beak. A boat glided down a strip of grey water, its sails filled.

  Her nausea was forgotten; she felt alive for the first time for weeks, alive and enchanted by all she saw. Was that what he meant when he talked about the exhilaration of driving a coach and four?

  It was strange how everyone had taken it for granted the Captain would take charge of everything, would sort out the muddle, find a way of getting them going again, would tell the coachman what to do. Being an officer, he had been used to commanding soldiers, but today he had shown he could order civilians too. He had a presence about him which invited trust. She knew she could trust him.

  She smiled to herself. It was incredible that, two days before, she had never ridden in a public coach, let alone sat on the box of one. Less than a month before she would not have dreamed of speaking to a man to whom she had not been properly introduced and she would certainly not have dined with him alone. Her reputation would have been in shreds and there could have been only one possible outcome; the man would have been in honour obliged to marry her.

  She wondered if the Captain would have succumbed to that kind of pressure and decided he would not. Not that she would ever have allowed herself to be compromised in that way. So what was different now?

  Everything, she told herself. She was no longer a member of the haute monde, no longer a potential catch for any young blade who fancied his chances, no longer financially independent. She was poor, so poor she had to count every penny she spent, so poor she could not afford a maid. Was it any wonder he took her for a working-class girl, a teacher, a governess, someone to tease with jests about being a princess?

  But would his manner be any different if he knew the truth? She would hate it if he began to behave like some of the fops she had known in London, dressed exquisitely, cravat just so, waistcoat dangling with fobs, hair cut and curled in the latest fashion, boots polished until you could see your face in them, pretentious coxcombs looking for heiresses to marry.

  It was one of the reasons she had not enjoyed her come-out year, though she would never have upset her parents by saying so, particularly her mother, who had set great store by the proper behaviour. What would she think if she could see her daughter now, thigh to thigh with a man on the box of a stagecoach? The thought made her smile.

  He turned towards her briefly and noticed the slight twitch of her lips. ‘A penny for your thoughts, princess.’

  She was tempted to tell him what she had been thinking, knowing it would make him smile too, but then remembered she was not supposed to be one of the idle rich. ‘I fear they are not worth a penny, Captain.’

  ‘Let me judge their worth. Come, tell me what was making you smile.’

  ‘I was remembering the look on that young driver’s face when he found himself sitting in a thorn bush,’ she invented. ‘He was using the most shocking language and most of it to do with his clothes being spoiled. And that when everyone else was in fear of their lives.’

  ‘I do not recall you laughing at the time. I distinctly heard you roasting him.’

  ‘He deserved it.’

  ‘So he did, but I am glad I was not the object of your displeasure. I should be quaking in my shoes.’

  ‘I cannot imagine anything frightening you,’ she said. ‘Certainly not a helpless woman.’

  ‘Women are never helpless,’ he said, as they approached the outskirts of a village and he slowed the horses to a walk. ‘They have weapons more terrifying than anything man could invent.’

  Before she could reply he drew the coach into the yard of an inn with a creaking sign which proclaimed it to be the Jolly Brewers. ‘I think we had best stop here. The wheel must be repaired and our injured people looked after.’

  Helen was the curious one now. His comment about women had sounded bitter, so what had made him like that? Had he been badly let down? If so, where and when? He had been very young when he joined his regiment, could it have been someone he met during the war? Portuguese? Spanish? French even, one of the enemy? Or more recently, someone in Paris or Vienna, both places reputedly full of intrigue and romance?

  But she could not question him, not only because he would give her a decided put-down for her impertinence, just as she had done to him, but because there was so much activity around them as the outside passengers climbed down from the roof and the young couple emerged from the interior.

  A bent old man with wispy ginger hair and a stubbly beard emerged from the inn and hurried towards them. ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ he said. ‘The coach ahead warned me. I have sent for a doctor. Bring the injured men in. I have a room for them.’

  Helen watched as the guard was carried from the coach. He looked very pale and she was afraid the movement of the coach, for all the Captain’s care, had not helped his injuries. She turned to help the coachman but he shrugged her off. ‘I ain’t in need of help, miss, it’s my arm that’s broke, not my legs. As for travelling inside, give me the box any day.’

  ‘Yes, I am sure,’ she said soothingly. ‘The Captain did his best not to jolt you too much.’

  ‘Oh, I ain’t complaining about the Captain’s driving, miss. I know he is a nonpareil of the highest, one of us, you might say. It was lucky he was with us. There ain’t many I’d trust with my cattle.’

  She looked up to see if the Captain had heard this remark but he was busy talking to the ostler about the horses, which were being unharnessed. ‘They will settle given rest and a good long drink,’ he was saying. ‘The coach needs a wheel repaired; it was lucky it carried us this far.’ He helped the ostler lead the horses to the stables and Helen followed the other passengers into the inn.

  They discovered the old lady and young Bertie Billingsworth ensconced by the parlour fire, having already had a good meal. They were not talking and Helen sensed that the old lady had spent most of the time castigating the young man and he, resentful, was sulking. As soon as the old lady set eyes on the coachman, she began all over again to grumble and threaten to sue. ‘Shaken to bits, I was,’ she said. ‘I could have had a seizure, I could have died…’

  H
elen bit back the retort she had on her tongue and said, ‘Indeed, ma’am, we could all have died. Fortunately no one did, though the guard is injured and must be looked after.’

  ‘That means more delay. I can see it will be Christmas before we arrive.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Young Mrs Smith, who had come into the parlour hanging onto her husband’s arm, sat down suddenly on the nearest chair. ‘We cannot stay here. Tom, tell them we must proceed at once.’

  ‘But, my love, how can I? The coach has to be repaired and we have no driver or guard.’

  She grabbed his hand. ‘But we must go on. We must hurry. Find another conveyance. Do something. Surely you do not want us to be overtaken?’

  ‘Of course not, but…’

  Duncan came into the room at that point. ‘I am told the wheel can be given a temporary repair, which will be good enough to take us on to Leicester, where they will be able to fit a new wheel and mend the door. It should be done by late afternoon.’ He turned to the landlord. ‘If you can provide the ladies with a room in which to rest and refresh themselves…’

  ‘I haven’t any free rooms,’ the man said. ‘They must make do with this.’

  The room they were in was intended for people coming in to eat while their horses were changed, or while waiting for a connection, and had nothing but a wooden settle against the wall, several hard chairs set about small tables and an armchair by the fire, now occupied by the elderly lady. It was not conducive to comfort and it was certainly not suitable for a lady to change her clothes, which Helen wished to do.

  She was very conscious of her ripped petticoat, dangling about her knees under the bombazine of her dress.

  ‘I need to change my clothes,’ she told the innkeeper. ‘And the young lady is very upset. I think she should lie down for an hour or two.’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but the bedrooms are all in use and you can’t have the best parlour on account of the doctor is in there examining your guard.’

  Duncan drew the man to one side, whispered a few words and handed him something which chinked. When he turned back to the ladies, the innkeeper was smiling. ‘You can use our bedroom, ladies. My wife will go and prepare it. Please be seated and have some refreshment while you wait.’

  Ten minutes later the innkeeper’s wife arrived to conduct them upstairs. The old lady declined to accompany them. ‘Soft, that’s what young chits are nowadays,’ she said. ‘Always wanting to rest and change their clothes. Why, in my young day, we thought nothing of travelling the full twenty-four hours in the same garments and been fresh as a daisy at the end of it.’

  The young lady giggled suddenly, even though a minute before she had been weeping. ‘Fresh!’ she whispered to Helen. ‘I’ll wager her fellow passengers kept their distance.’

  ‘If she is right, they would all have been as bad as one another,’ Helen murmured, as they left the old lady to her grumbling and climbed the stairs behind the innkeeper’s wife to a bedroom at the back of the house.

  There had been frantic efforts to tidy it, the quilt had been hastily thrown across the bed and there was still dust on the dressing table where a white garment poked from one of the drawers, but the water in the ewer was fresh and there was soap and clean towels laid on the washstand. Helen’s trunk and the young lady’s portmanteau stood in the middle of the worn carpet.

  ‘Thank heaven,’ Helen said, undoing the hooks and eyes that went down the front of her pelisse robe from neck to hem and revealing the torn petticoat. ‘I felt everyone could see my legs.’

  The young lady sat on the edge of the bed, watching her, doing nothing to help herself. ‘You are very capable, but then I suppose you must be used to looking after yourself.’

  ‘One can become accustomed to anything if one tries hard enough,’ Helen said evasively, delving into her trunk for a fresh petticoat.

  ‘I don’t think I could. I hate this. I hate the dust, the dirt, not having anyone to help me, not having anything except that old portmanteau. I didn’t know what to pack in it. I’ve never packed in my life before. I’ve never even undressed myself…’ She stopped suddenly and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, it is so dreadful. And if Tom leaves me…’

  Helen looked at her in surprise. ‘Why should he do that?’

  ‘I made him angry. He said I made him look small in front of the Captain and the others. He admires the Captain, you see. I believe he would like to have travelled on the box with him and I would not let him.’

  ‘He would not leave you for anything so trifling. He seems devoted to you.’

  ‘I wish I could be sure. I am not at all certain I should have undertaken this journey at all. What will everyone say? I had thought I could carry it off, but I can’t, I know everyone is staring and talking about us.’

  ‘I collect you saying Mr Smith is not your husband?’

  ‘Did I?’ She answered vaguely. ‘That just proves I cannot carry it off.’

  ‘An elopement?’

  ‘Yes. You see, everyone has guessed.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what people think they know. It’s what you feel about Mr Smith that matters.’

  She laughed shakily. ‘His name isn’t Smith, it’s Thurborn. Tom Thurborn. He is from Canada. And my name is Dorothy Carstairs.’

  Helen had wondered about the young man’s accent. ‘Mr Thurborn is a long way from home.’

  ‘That’s just what Papa said. He forbade me to see him or speak to him. He said he didn’t know anything about his family or background. He said he would not have me affianced to some ne’er-do-well with no money and no prospects who would carry me off to the other side of the world, where I was bound to be miserable.’

  Helen could quite see Mr Carstairs’s point of view. ‘How did you meet Tom?’

  ‘At a ball at the American Embassy in London at the beginning of the season. Papa is a diplomat, you see, and it is my come-out year. Oh, it was such a glittering occasion, with the whole of London Society there. My card was full almost from the first. As soon as I saw Tom, I fell in love with him. He is so handsome, don’t you think?’

  ‘Indeed, yes,’ Helen said, though the young man was a parrot compared to the Captain’s eagle. ‘Do go on. I shall respect your confidence.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t know the relief of being able to talk to someone who understands. You do understand, don’t you?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘We danced twice and went into supper together, which made Papa cross because he had almost promised Lord Danminster I should go into supper with him. I think he had already spoken to Papa about offering. I meant to refuse him, even if Tom had not come along. He is thirty if he is a day and fat, too.’

  ‘How old are you, Miss Carstairs?’

  ‘Oh, do call me Dorothy. We are hardly strangers, after all we’ve been through today. I am seventeen. When I told Papa I could not love a man so old, he said I had been reading too many novels and love had nothing to do with it. Do you not think love between husband and wife is very important, Miss Carstairs.’

  ‘Please call me Helen. Yes, but then I would be considered a little eccentric for saying so.’

  ‘I knew you would understand! Tom and I fell in love from the very first. We both said afterwards we became aware of it at the same moment, halfway through supper. I found myself feeling hot and breathless and he took me onto the terrace because it was cooler. We were not alone, there were any number of other people out there and Tom behaved perfectly properly.

  ‘We talked a great deal, I cannot remember what about, but afterwards he crossed one of the names off my card and waltzed with me. I did not think anyone had noticed, but Papa was furious, he said I had no idea what I was about and Mama agreed with him, though she was nothing like as angry. They forbade me to see Tom again, but I managed to meet him at a friend’s house.

  ‘He was angry with Papa for denying us our happiness. He asked him for an interview. I don’t know what they said to each other, but Tom left without speaking to m
e and I was locked in my room for a week afterwards. I was only let out when I promised to be good and obedient.’

  ‘I imagine you were nothing of the sort,’ Helen said dryly.

  ‘I had to do something, didn’t I? I sent Tom a letter, asking him to meet me in the garden after everyone had gone to bed. Papa saw us from the window and came down in his dressing-gown with a sporting gun. You can’t know how frightened I was and thankful he did not use it. Tom bolted over the garden wall. The very next day Papa sent me to our country house in Norfolk. I thought I would never see Tom again and wept all the way.’

  ‘Tom followed you?’

  ‘Yes. He watched the house until he saw my maid, Jenny, coming out and gave her a letter for me.’ She sighed. ‘It was a beautiful letter, saying how much he loved me, how he could not live without me and if Papa and Mama could not see that, then he would carry me away to be married in secret.’

  ‘So, you decided to elope to Gretna Green?’

  ‘Yes. Tom hired a chaise and waited for me in the lane behind the house. It was still dark when we set off. We had to leave the chaise in Northampton to be picked up by its owner and caught the stage. I thought it would be a wonderful romantic adventure, but everything keeps going wrong. I never imagined coach travel would be like this, crammed into a jolting wooden box with all manner of other people, vulgar people too some of them, and being jostled against them, with hardly room to breathe. People asking questions when it is perfectly obvious you do not wish to talk. And when the coach ran off the road…’ She shuddered. ‘I thought I was going to die for my wickedness, I truly did.’

  ‘We were all very alarmed,’ Helen said.

  ‘Tom called me a faint-hearted pudding,’ she said. ‘He has never been angry with me before. I begin to wonder if he truly loves me at all.’

  ‘We all say things we do not mean when we are under stress,’ Helen said. ‘I am sure he did not mean to hurt you.’

  ‘I miss Mama and Jenny. I want to go home.’ She looked round the ill-furnished room with distaste. ‘I half wish Papa would catch up with us.’