They moved into the dining room and over a frugal meal of turbot, game pie, vegetables and a fruit flummery Duncan regaled them with the latest gossip from the capital, including the Prince Regents long dispute with his wife Caroline, and Princess Charlottes love match with Prince Leopold, a story that delighted Molly, who had a very romantic streak in spite of her hoydenish ways. But he had been to no social gatherings and could tell them nothing of the latest fashions.
Duncan stayed behind to smoke a cigar and drink a glass of port after the meal but soon joined them in the withdrawing room where they played three-handed whist until it was time for Molly to retire.
You will be staying? she enquired, when she bade him goodnight. I shall see you tomorrow? You can tell me all about your experiences then.
Alas, no, I must be gone by daybreak, he said. But I shall look forward to meeting you again in the future.
Oh, must you go? We so seldom see anyone interesting at Stacey Manor. It is the most boring of places. Nothing ever happens here. Begging you pardon, Aunt Margaret, but there is so little to do and no one to converse with at all.
Duncans smile was a little crooked. I am afraid if it is social discourse you are looking for I am a poor one to provide it. He stood up and bowed to her. Goodnight, Miss Martineau. May your dreams be pleasant ones.
When she had gone, Duncan settled down again with his grandmother. The poor child must find it very boring here. Why in heavens name did Harriet not take her with her to London?
Lady Connaught smiled. And have everyone wondering how she can be old enough to have a daughter of seventeen? It would certainly be a stumbling block to her own prospects. Harriet has promised Molly a Season when she has landed a wealthy husband for herself. She is still a beautiful woman, not in the first flush of youth but not too old to want a husband.
She has had three already! I should think anyone contemplating marriage with her might well consider how long he might live after the ceremony.
Oh, that is unfair, Duncan. Her first husband, the French diplomat and Mollys father, was a widower and an old man when she married him. Unfortunately her expectations on his death were not realised; he left his fortune to his first family in France and only a small portion came Harriets way.
And her second?
George Winters. He was a wine importer and plump in the pocket when they married, but the blockade of French ports ruined his business and he went to America to look for new sources of supply. He died out there of a fever in 1812 or 1813I am not sure which it was. That marriage lasted eleven years, but it left Harriet no better off than before. Her third husband was Colonel Benbright
He was killed at Waterloo. I met him once. An old stick-in-the-mud, who believed it was dishonourable to retreat whatever the circumstances. He had been ordered by Wellington to withdraw from his position, but he chose to ignore the order and took a great many good and brave men with him to their deaths. He stopped, hearing again the sound of the unremitting guns and the cries and groans of the wounded men in that terrible conflict.
He had thought himself battle-hardened, but even he had been appalled and sickened by the carnage. And some of it was so unnecessary. Colonel Benbrights men, not knowing his orders, had obeyed his commands and died at his side. Duncan had been glad not to be one of them, even though, at the time, he had been feeling sick at heart and would have welcomed a good clean death.
So now Harriet must find another husband. His grandmother broke in on his reverie and brought him sharply back to more mundane matters. Her daughter is an encumbrance, if not a serious rival, so she sent her here to stay with me.
Fustian! She is no more than an attractive child; how can she possibly be in competition with her own mother?
She is not a child, Duncan. She is seventeen, nearly eighteen.
She looks more like fifteen. A mere schoolgirl.
That is Harriets fault for trying to keep her young. Poor Molly has not been allowed to grow up, but underneath that childish exterior there is the heart and mind of a young woman who could blossom into a real beauty.
I do not doubt it. It makes me feel like horse-whipping that selfish mother of hers.
That would not serve either. What Molly wants is someone to help her grow up. I cant do that; I am too old and set in my ways. And Stacey Manor is too isolated.
So? he asked, wondering where this conversation was leading.
You need to settle down, Duncan. It is about time you abandoned your scapegrace ways and made something of your life.
With Molly Martineau? he asked in astonishment.
Why not?
Grandmama, have you any idea what sort of life I lead?
Yes, and it is not to your credit. You did not have to abandon your inheritance and take to the road. It was done in a fit of pique
No, Grandmama, it was not. When I came home and discovered I had been reported killed in action at Vittoria
The report of that action was detailed enough for no one to doubt it, his grandmother put in. You were seen to fall and a French officer dismounted and finished you off with his sword
He meant to, but charitably changed his mind when he saw I was wounded and took me prisoner instead.
It is a pity you could not have managed to let anyone know you were alive
I tried, but because I would not give my parole not to attempt to escape I was denied all privileges and no one would take a letter. When I did escape, I brought important intelligence and the Chief sent me back to discover more. I was not free to come home until after Boney surrendered. Too late. My father had died, my title had been usurped, the lady I was to have married had wed my brother and produced an heir. He paused, remembering the consternation his return had caused.
If it had not been for that spell as a French prisoner of war and Old Hooknose sending him back behind the lines as an agent, he would have come home long before and claimed his birthright. He would have arrived before his fathers death and there would have been no question of who was the heir. He would be head of the family, running his estates, married to BethMarried to Beth.
He mused on that for several seconds. It was a prospect which had kept him going all the time he had been in the Peninsula. He had dreamed of it, sure that she was waiting for him. He had spent hours wondering what she might be doing, how she looked, whether she missed him and longed for his return as much as he missed her and looked forward to being reunited with her.
The reality had been very different. Coming home and finding her married to his brother had shaken him to the core. He had been angry and miserable and then anxious only to get away, to leave them to their happiness with each other. He had told them he did not care for the settled life, had not really wanted to be the Earl, that he was a soldier and would remain one. He would not bother them again; they might continue to believe him dead.
He had given a harsh laugh. You may even continue to mourn me, he had said.
Hugh, though clearly discomfited, had not tried to dissuade him, but had offered him an income from the estate, saying it was the least he could do. He had refused it, being more concerned with salvaging his pride. He had wished them happy and reported to the War Office for further service. Napoleons escape from Elba and the second phase of the war was fortuitous in that respect.
What else was Hugh to do? she demanded. He truly believed he had become the new heir and was entitled to inherit. We all did. And Beth had expected to marry the Stacey heir ever since she was a child; it was what both families wanted. You can hardly blame her for turning to your brother.
Logic told him that Hugh and Beth were not at fault, but his heart was still sore. Beth had been so quick to change her allegiance that he began to wonder if, after all, it was Hugh she had wanted all the time and his reported demise had been a blessing. Oh, I can quite see how it happened. My return was an acute embarrassment to everyone. It were better I had stayed dead. I returned to my regiment to give Napoleon another chance to finish me off at Waterloo. Tis a pity he did not.
Dont be bitter about it, my boy, she said softly. You chose to renounce your inheritance for the sake of Beth and their son, so now you must put it behind you and make a fresh start. Careering about the countryside getting into scrapes will not do. It just will not do.
How do you know I have been getting into scrapes?
Why else would you come here? And in the state you were in. I am not a fool, Duncan, even if you take me for one.
Oh, Grandmama, I know you are no fool, but it is better you do not know
Running from the law, I shouldnt wonder, or your creditors. Using Stacey Manor as a bolt-hole
Grandmama
Enough. You are rightI do not want to know. But what about settling down? What about Molly? She laughed lightly. Scapegrace and madcap, it might be the making of you both.
You are surely not in earnest?
Why not?
Its out of the question. You said yourself, I am a rakeshame, always on the move, getting into one scrape after another
Precisely.
I cannot change into a fan-carrier overnight. We should both be miserable. And what do you suppose Miss Martineau would think of the matter?
She will be guided by her elders.
Her mother! I hardly think she would provide wise guidance with three husbands already dead and buried.
No, but as Harriet has left Molly in my care and Molly is an obedient girl she will listen to me
Then she would be lacking in spirit and that would not commend her to me. Besides, it would mean taking Harriet Benbright as a mother-in-law and I do not think I could stomach that. Such pretensions I never did see in a woman of no consequence.
Harriets father was a baronet and I hardly think you are in a position to talk of consequence now, my boy.
No, which is why Harriet would not entertain an offer from me for her daughter. I have nothing to commend me. And any children we had would have no prospects of inheriting the title. I could not go back on my word to Hugh. That alone would exclude me in Harriets eyes. He smiled disarmingly. Grandmama, I thank you for your concern, but I must continue to live my life in the way that suits me. I have a small pension from a grateful country and Hugh has been kind enough to make me an allowance from the income of the estate. He did not want her to think ill of his brother, nor intervene on his behalf, and so he told the lie.
So he should! It is yours, after all. Where are you off to tomorrow?
He smiled, concluding she had not been serious or she would not have capitulated so easily. Wherever the fancy takes me.
But I collect it must be done under cover of darkness.
I am afraid so. I shall be gone long before you wake, so I will say my farewell now and retire.
She sighed. Very well. But you know you are always welcome here, no matter what.
Yes, I know, but I would be grateful if no one knew of my presence here tonight. In fact, I should deem it a favour if you were to say, if asked, that you were unaware that I had survived the second war and returned to England.
That I will do, but I shall also pray that you come to your senses before you find yourself preaching at Tyburn Cross.
Oh, I do not think it will come to that, he said lightly. Hanging is certainly not part of my plan for the future.
Then what is?
I do not know. Not yet. But undoubtedly something will occur to me. Now, if you will excuse me. He bowed over her hand, putting it to his lips. Goodnight and God bless you, Grandmother. Tell MollyNo, tell her nothing, for there is nothing good you could say of me.
He strode from the room and made his way upstairs to bed, though he did not intend to sleep for more than an hour or two. Long before dawn, he was up and creeping down to the back door, from where he crossed the cobbled yard to saddle his horse.
Mollys room overlooked the stables, and as she had stayed up reading Don Quixote by the light of a candle she heard him leave the house. Going to the window, she watched him enter the stables. He was escaping, getting away on that beautiful black horse of his, and she was sure he would have many fine adventures and his life would not be at all boring, as hers was.
There was something a little mysterious about him; he had talked all through dinner without giving away a single thing about himself, not even why he had chosen to come to Stacey Manor in the first place, nor how he knew her mother. Until a few months ago, she had not heard of her mothers Stacey connections. And she was curious as to why it was necessary to creep away in the dead of night.
Without stopping to think of the consequences, she scrambled into her riding habit and hurried downstairs. She was in the kitchen, pulling on her boots, when she heard the quiet clop of a horse walking across the cobbles of the yard. By the time she had let herself out of the house, the sound of the horse was fading in the distance. She ran out to the stables to saddle her mare, Jenny. Lady Connaught had long since given up riding and there were only a couple of mens saddles belonging to the groom, who rode pillion when her ladyship went out in the carriage. Molly had used the smaller of these on many occasions and had become proficient at riding astride.
Two minutes later she was galloping after the enigmatic captain, without any idea of what she would say to him when she caught up with him. It was simply that she was wide awake and longing for something to give her life a little piquancy. She would follow him and solve the mystery of who he was and what he was about.
It was a quiet night and she could hear the hooves of his horse ahead of her, cantering easily along the dry road. She would stay a little behind him until he stopped to rest his mount; she could catch up with him. Then he must either escort her back himself or share his adventure with her. Either way she would learn more about him.
She suddenly became aware that the hoofbeats had stopped and she pulled up to listen and look about her. She had left the familiar heath behind and was on a road with open fields on one side and a copse of trees on the other. There was a village not too far way, for she heard a dog bark. Close by an owl hooted, startling her for a moment, but there was no sound of man or horse.
Surely he could not have outrun her so completely? She began to walk her mare forward more slowly, straining to hear the slightest sound. Had he turned off? But she could see no other road or bridleway. Had he gone into one of the houses in the village? Could he have an assignation there? She ought to go back, but it would be so disappointing not to have her curiosity satisfied.