by Janet Woods
‘Well … well,’ Simon drawled. ‘So he managed to cut the knot from your apron strings. What were you arguing about in the park?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes you do. I was seated on a bench not far from where you stood. The man is rapidly making inroads into society now and his calendar will be full enough for him to drop you soon. Just remember, I’ll be waiting to pick you up.’ He took a grip on her arm to detain her when she went to pass him. It was too tight for her to break free and she winced when he rolled his thumb joint over the bone at her wrist.
At least there had been enough distance between them so her conversation with Alex couldn’t have been overheard. ‘You’ll have a long wait, Mr Mortimer. Let go of my arm. I need to go to my room and tidy myself.’
Matthew stepped forward. ‘I suggest it would be in your interest to release Miss Fox’s arm and join the other guests in the drawing room for the celebration, Mr Mortimer.’
‘Would you, be damned! Who asked you?’ Simon tensed, then allowed his glance to graze over Matthew’s stocky, muscular form.
The servant said quietly, ‘Now sir, if you please. We don’t want a scene, do we?’
Simon released her and turned towards the drawing room. He hesitated, and then turned back, sneering, ‘You’re just a bloody servant, not fit to clean the shit from my boots. I know the person who runs the agency you were hired from, and could make sure you never found employment through them again. Miss Fox is a witness to your incivility.’
‘Me?’ Though shocked by Simon’s language, Vivienne made her eyes as round and innocent as she could. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen anything untoward take place … yet.’
‘Very funny,’ and his gaze went to the hovering Matthew. ‘Some other time, bird-wit?’
‘I’ll look forward to it … sir.’
When Vivienne heard the servant crack his knuckles, she hoped they were not going to come to blows.
When Matthew took a step towards him, Simon hastily slipped through the drawing room door and disappeared into the hubbub coming from inside.
She exchanged a grin with the servant. ‘Thank you, Matthew. I do hope you don’t get into trouble.’
He shrugged. ‘Mr Mortimer is a nasty bit of work and you should take care if he has set his sights on you. He was two seconds away from finding himself upended on the road outside. If you don’t mind me saying, Miss Fox, that’s the best place for trash like him.’
‘Let me know if anything comes of his threat. I’ll stand up for you. Lord … I hope Aunt Edwina doesn’t get to hear of it.’
‘Thank you, Miss. I doubt if it will since Mr Mortimer will not want to embarrass himself.’
Freddie and Adelaide disappeared into the conservatory an hour later. Adelaide was rosy cheeked, dimpled and bubbling with happiness. The proposal was made and accepted. They came back glowing with the excitement of the moment and the festivities went on into the evening.
Vivienne and Adelaide went upstairs to tidy their hair and found a private place to talk.
Vivienne gave her cousin a hug. ‘I’m glad you accepted Freddie, he’s such a good match for you.’
‘I’ve always loved him. He’s so sweet and funny. A pity you didn’t accept Simon. He and Freddie are such good friends and we could see each other often.’
‘He told you about that?’
‘He told Freddie, who told me. He said he’d take you with or without fortune, since he has enough.’
Vivienne didn’t believe that for a moment. ‘I don’t like Simon … not even a little bit. What type of man will take bets on whether I have a fortune or not? As for his wealth, I’m given to understand that he gambles recklessly, so I doubt if he’ll have his fortune for long.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t be so serious about things. It’s just some fun. Most people who’ve placed money on the outcome think you haven’t got a brass bean. Simon is convinced that you have. He thinks he stands to win a lot of money, and won’t listen to me when I tell him you only inherited a small amount. I told him that I think you have designs on Lord LéSayres. Then Simon said he saw you arguing in the park, so it couldn’t be true.’
The colour rose to Vivienne’s cheeks. ‘What he thought he saw and what actually happened are two different things. The earl is my friend. We move in different social circles and he will probably marry someone of title. He’s going to the theatre with Lord Cresswell’s party tonight, and Cresswell has two unmarried sisters who have everything Alex wants.’
‘Alex … the earl’s name is Alexander …’ Adelaide swooped in a sudden breath. ‘You have feelings towards Lord LéSayres, don’t you? He’s just the type of man you’d fall in love with.’
She shrugged. ‘I … I do like him a lot, but it’s no good being in love with a man you can’t have.’
Adelaide hugged her. ‘Oh, Vivienne, I’ve been so mean to you, when all the time your heart was breaking in two.’
She felt like crying at this cousinly act of affection, though being depicted as a lovesick heroine seemed rather ludicrous when Romeo and Juliet came into her thoughts. They’d been hardly more than children, and she and Alex were adults. Surely they could control their emotions a little easier? ‘I’m sure my heart will recover … it will have to. He hasn’t abandoned me entirely though, since I’m partnering him at the Almack’s afternoon dance, remember? He would have made some excuse if he’d changed his mind.’
She would tell him the truth then. Perhaps that would turn the tide in her favour. She felt a need to confide in her cousin. ‘I do love him. But you must promise you won’t tell anyone of my feelings towards the earl. It would be crushing for me and embarrassing for him.’
Vivienne immediately regretted telling her cousin for Adelaide cooed, her voice oozing insincerity, ‘Of course I won’t tell anyone. Poor you … such a sad mope. Finally, you fall in love with the man of your dreams and that man can’t be bought, even if you did have the fortune Simon cites you as being the possessor of.’
Vivienne hoped the sigh she gave was believable … if just to thwart Simon Mortimer in his quest to make money out of her state of mind.
‘Come, let’s go down, Vivienne. This is the happiest day of my life and I don’t want to spend it crying over your lost love. So boring.’
Simon behaved himself throughout the celebration tea and apologized to her in a rather smarmy manner when he got the chance, but his eyes said the apology wasn’t genuine. They were as hard as stones, and Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to trust him.
Twelve
Vivienne’s aunt and cousin were out visiting. They would be going on to a recital afterwards, and would take supper at the theatre before arriving home about ten.
Despite her aunt’s urging, Vivienne had used a genuine headache to decline the engagement, and she had slept until late afternoon.
Now Maria gently shook her awake. ‘There’s an urgent message for you, Miss Fox.’
‘Urgent!’ Her heart quickened in alarm and she scrambled out from under the sheets, tossing her hair from her face and relieved that her headache had disappeared.
Beyond the window early evening was being delivered by a sky painted with yellow, pink and grey stripes, but the grey suggested rain was not far away.
The message informed her that her father had suffered an accident and he needed her to return home. The signature was a wiry scribble and she couldn’t make out the name. It was certainly not her father’s signature. Was he so badly injured he couldn’t write a note or sign his name to one? He must be, else why would he need to call her home?
Panicking a little, she slid out of bed and scrabbled in one of her trunks to find her travelling clothes, a plain green skirt and bodice with a short cape. ‘My father has suffered an accident, I must go to him immediately.’
Maria became a pillar of calm good sense and took over, removing the clothing from her hands. ‘Let’s do things in order, Miss Fox. We have an
hour or so before the afternoon coach leaves, and you’ve had a shock.’
‘My head’s spinning.’
‘You stood up too quickly, you’re breathing too fast and your face is pale. Take in a deep breath … hold it … let it out slowly. Now another … hold it … breathe out …’
‘I’m all right now.’
‘Good. Now sit down and drink your tea while I fetch you some water to wash in. Matthew will bring up some refreshment by the by. While you’re eating I’ll run a flat iron over your travelling clothes, since the skirt and cape are crumpled. Then you can write your notes while I pack your travelling bag.’
Maria meant well, but Vivienne was not used to being instructed in what to do. However, although annoyed by it she realized it was out of concern for her, so she let it pass on this occasion.
‘You shouldn’t be travelling alone, Miss Fox, and it will be dusk by the time you get there. Perhaps I should come with you.’
‘But you’ll lose your job.’
‘I’ll be finishing anyway in a week or so. I don’t mind not being paid, and at least I’ll have a roof over my head and something to eat while I’m with you. I can help you if your father is confined to his bed, as I looked after my own father. It won’t take much time to gather my things together.’
Vivienne was about to tell Maria she couldn’t afford her wages when she remembered that she could – easily. There was no reason why she shouldn’t have a maid. She calculated that she’d be able to afford two coach fares with the money she had left. Aunt Edwina and Adelaide would be furious, of course.
A sense of adventure tickled inside her. ‘All right, Maria, you’re hired. The roads are dry so it should be a fast journey, and we can hire a cab at the other end. Perhaps Matthew can go and buy the tickets, and he can escort us to the coach terminal.’
‘He wouldn’t allow you to leave the house without an escort, and at least he can see you safely on to the coach. What about the rest of your wardrobe?’
‘I’ll have to leave it here. Perhaps Matthew will arrange for it to be sent on.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘There’s a new gown being delivered in the morning. I must leave a note asking my aunt to pay for it, and I will reimburse her when I next see her. Oh dear … I must write to Lord LéSayres and tell him I’m unable to attend Almack’s with him. My cousin will explain the situation, I expect.’
And thinking of the earl led Vivienne’s mind to the violets she’d pressed inside a book. They wouldn’t be dried yet. Carefully she removed the blotting paper containing the tokens and placed them in her London journal, on the page she’d reserved for Alex … though he’d run into two pages.
She couldn’t leave it in full view for anybody to read. Her travel bag had no room left for the journal. She wrapped it in a shawl and placed it in the bottom of one of her trunks. Nobody would come across it there.
Matthew came back with the coach tickets and the news that unless there were cancellations they would have to take the later coach.
Despite the scramble, she was ready on time, and Maria quickly threw her own belongings into a smaller bag.
They were booked on the later coach, a rather shabby affair that had seen better days and looked as though it had been brought out of retirement to cope with an extra crowd. They arrived at the coach station in good time. Vivienne had paid the inside fare of seventeen shillings and five pence each, and made sure she had money in her pocket for refreshments, and enough small coins for tips along the way. The horses were large, strong creatures. They stamped sparks from the cobbles, swished the flies from their rumps with leisurely flicks of their tails, and snorted and whuffled, as if they were talking to each other.
She was relieved to find the other two inside seats occupied by a man and his wife, and a child, a sweet little girl of about five, who clung to her mother’s skirt and smiled shyly.
Vivienne occupied the seats facing the horses.
The coach dipped as the outside passengers climbed aloft. She didn’t envy them … or the horses, having to drag this big heavy coach behind them. The driver cracked his whip over the horses’ heads. Soon they were wheeling through the dirty streets, scattering animals and people alike as they barged through the crowds. Gradually, town gave way to countryside.
It started to rain, a persistent patter against the coach. Five minutes later it became a deluge. Vivienne felt like swearing, because when the road churned with mud it would slow them right down.
The child fell asleep, her head leaning against her mother’s body and snuggled into the safety of her arms. Her father followed her example not long after. Maria succumbed, her head lolling in the corner.
Vivienne watched the countryside trundle past. Her mind kept going to her father. He’d been well just a few days ago. Now he seemed to be at death’s door.
The rain lessened and her mind flicked to Alex. What was he doing now, she wondered? Despite his poor opinion of Sophia, would he marry her … or one of Lord Cresswell’s sisters perhaps? Their breeding would send them to the top of the list, unlike herself, who was the daughter of a country parson. She consoled herself. Even if he’d never once considered her to be a fitting mistress of King’s Acres estate she would be left with her memories of him, of his mouth claiming the pleasure of her first real kiss, and of hers accepting that gift of pleasure.
The slow, wallowing movement of the swaying coach was relaxing and Vivienne slept for a short time. They stopped for a change of horses and a pie-in-hand supper. Someone came from the inn and inspected the wheels and began banging nails into the metal. Grease was applied to the hub.
Eventually they boarded it again and resumed the journey. It was still raining, a thin drizzle that had turned the road surface into slippery mud. Sometimes the men had to help push the coach up the inclines, while the coachman cracked his whip over the horses’ heads.
The spinning wheels of the coach flicked up clumps of sticky mud that caked both men and vehicle and they were obliged to slow down. The last ten miles went almost at walking pace, and it was nearly midnight when they reached their destination.
Blessedly, the rain had ceased, but the sky was overcast and the darkness beyond the lights of the inn was dense.
Maidstone was not as populated or as busy as London. The streets were empty and quiet, apart from the rise and fall of voices coming from the inn. At this time of night there were no cabs for hire. The fresh smell of the sea was a welcome change after London. They waited a while in case someone had thought she might be on the coach.
The horses were changed again and two passengers took their places, while two of the males climbed down from the top, stretched, and then walked off in different directions.
‘We’ll have to walk,’ she said. ‘My home is about two miles.’
Maria said nervously, ‘But it’s dark, Miss.’
‘It won’t get any lighter for several hours, and we can’t stay here because the ticket office is closed. We’d be more noticeable were we to go to the inn, and some of the men will be influenced by drink, so will be overly familiar if given the chance. We won’t get lost, I promise. If we walk briskly it should take us about an hour.’
Twenty minutes later they’d cleared the town and started out along the country lane that led past the church and into the village of Chausworth. They heard the sound of a carriage coming up slowly behind them. Perhaps someone had come to meet them after all – or at least they could beg a lift, since there was nothing between here and the village.
The carriage had its lanterns lit and the coachman stopped a little way past them. ‘Miss Fox?’ The rather gruff voice came from the interior, and when a man descended she thought him a slightly sinister figure in a black cloak and floppy hat. But then, anyone would seem sinister at that time of morning. All the same, she was wary.
There was something about the man’s voice she recognized, and she said uneasily, ‘Did my father send you to meet me … is he all right?’
‘I’ll take you to
him. Get in.’ He took her by the arm and a gust of brandy fumes enveloped her when he opened the door and almost threw her inside. Instinctively she launched herself from the seat when he tried to follow her in. Her momentum knocked him to the ground and she clambered over him, her knees forcing the breath from his body. When she raked her nails down his face he uttered a loud curse and punched her a couple of times in the side of her head. Blood trickled from her nose. Dazed, she gave a little groan and the world spun around her. ‘Run, Maria,’ she called out with her remaining breath, then swooped in another.
He punched her in the stomach. When she gasped and dropped to the ground he lost his grip. ‘Stop struggling else I’ll clout you again.’
The other man cried out, ‘Gracious … enough of the fisticuffs. You shouldn’t treat a young lady so roughly.’
Maria gave a scream that would have woken the occupants of the church graveyard from their long slumber. ‘Don’t you hurt my mistress, you murdering swines—’ The noise ended abruptly with the sound of a blow.
Vivienne struggled to her feet.
‘Christ … there’s two of them … a maid, I think. What have you done to her?’ the driver said in alarm.
‘I’ve given her a little tap on the head with my stick and dropped her over the wall into the churchyard. She’ll wake up soon.’
‘I didn’t think you’d go this far. You said it was just to give the chaperone a fright—’
‘Shut up, you fool! You don’t want them to recognize us, do you?’
Vivienne already had. The voices told her that her assailant was Simon Mortimer, and Frederick was driving the carriage. She was so furious she was past thinking about anything except revenge, but her anger was tempered by the thought that her father might not be ill after all.
Behind the wall there was a furtive movement and a whimper from Maria. Vivienne cried out, ‘You’ll go to prison for this.’
‘Not if there’s nobody left to witness against us. Get in the carriage, my dear. Give me what I want without further trouble and I’ll let you go.’