He had said nothing of it to his father, who would, he was sure, take the same view as Tewkes, that anything acquired on a battlefield was a fair prize and meant to be used. His father, who had never cared a straw for his younger son, was, now that he was the heir, insisting on him marrying and continuing the line. Jack had had little time and even less inclination to marry while he was a serving soldier; following the colours was not something he would subject any wife to and leaving her at home seemed to defeat the object of the exercise. He had seen too many marriages fail because of long separations to take the risk. He was home now and, while he owned he ought to be thinking about marriage, to do so simply to produce an heir went against the grain. He would not stand in line, fawning over eager débutantes, just to please his profligate father. He grinned as the old coach jolted over a particularly bad rut; arriving in town in this dilapidated conveyance would certainly not endear him to the fortune hunters. He smiled to himself; if he were to allow the gossipers to think his pockets were to let, he might gain the breathing space he needed.
He lifted his head to find Lydia surveying him with wide violet eyes and a tiny twitch to the corners of her mouth which might have been the beginnings of a smile. In his experience young ladies usually fell into a swoon or burst into floods of tears when confronted with a mishap of this magnitude; that she could smile made him feel a deal more comfortable. We are slowing down, she said. You will soon be rid of us.
Chastised, he said, I apologise, Miss Wenthorpe, I am afraid I am poor company. Please forgive me.
Oh, it is I who need forgiving for the intrusion. They were pulling up in the yard of an inn and the driver was shouting to one of the ostlers who had run out to meet them. If we can find my brother, I am sure he will add his thanks to mine.
But Tom was nowhere to be seen. On enquiring after him, she was told that he had been there but as there were no spare horses or carriages of any sort he had gone to a farm along the road in the hope of borrowing a cart.
A cart? She could hardly believe it and she knew that the Marquis, who stood immediately behind her, was laughing at the picture thus created in his mind of her and her maid sitting atop their luggage on a farm cart! Whatever was he thinking of?
Better than walking, the innkeeper said, with a shrug. And he could bring on your luggage, not to mention the broken wheel to be repaired.
Eminently sensible, commented the Marquis. But we did not meet him on the road, so where is he?
The horse he rode was lame and he had to walk to the farm all of two miles further on, it be and if the farmer were not at home or the cart loaded and needing to be unloaded it would take time. Ten to one hes still there.
Could you not have lent him a horse? Lydia asked.
Maam, we have no spares, as I told the young gentleman.
I thought I saw two looking over their stalls in the stables when we came into the yard.
They are bespoke for his lordship.
Oh. She turned to the Marquis. You have taken the last two horses. How are we to go on?
If this was a hint to relinquish the animals to her, he did not take the bait. Ill lay odds your carriage wheel will not be ready by tomorrow, he said. And by the day after your own horses will have been rested.
One of them is lame; you heard the landlord say so. What about the ones you brought today?
They go back to Longham, he snapped. I do not leave prime cattle like that for any Tom, Dick or Harry to spoil.
But we must go on my aunt is expecting us tomorrow evening at the latest; she will be very worried if we do not arrive.
He did not see that it need be any concern of his but he could no more abandon her now than he could when hed first come upon the overturned coach, especially as her brother, if he truly was her brother, seemed to have left her to manage on her own. Confound the pair of them! I will deem it a privilege to convey you and your brother on tomorrow, he said, then, turning to the innkeeper, Have you a room for Miss Wenthorpe?
It seemed the Marquis had also bespoken the only spare room but he gave it up with every appearance of cheerfulness, saying he would do very well on a settle in the parlour. By the time Tom arrived, it was quite dark and Lydia was being entertained by her rescuer to an excellent supper of fish in oyster sauce, boiled beef and apple flummery.
Tom was cold and wet and dismal and not inclined to be gracious when he discovered that Lydia had arrived in the village in comparative comfort, had washed and changed, and was sitting unchaperoned in the dining-room with a man to whom she had not been introduced. It really would not do, and he told her so in no uncertain terms when, at last, they left the dining-room to retire for the night and he was able to speak to her alone.
What would you have had me do? she retorted. Sit under the broken carriage and freeze to death while you took your time bringing a farm cart? His lordship has been kindness itself Kindness was not really the right word, she decided; he had been vastly entertaining, sarcastic and charming by turns, while remaining unfailingly polite. He had been solicitous for her comfort and sent the inn servants scurrying to please her, and then sat without speaking for several minutes watching her eat, as if he had never seen a woman with a hearty appetite before. Her concentration on her plate had not been so much hunger as a reluctance to raise her head and find those searching eyes on her.
You need not have dined with him, Tom said, unconvinced. It is hardly the thing. He is a stranger.
But he gave up his room for me, and a very fine room it is too; I could not be so ungrateful as to refuse his company, and we were not alone the dining-room was full.
We should have gone on to Watford where our rooms were booked.
How?
He had no answer and gave her none, but turned to grumbling that he had been obliged to dine on left-overs and was to sleep with Watkins and Scrivens above the stables and if he did not catch his death of a chill then he would be more than surprised. She made light of his catalogue of complaints, saying he would feel more the thing after a good nights sleep and, taking her leave, went up to her bedchamber where Betty was waiting to help her undress.
It was a squeeze for them all to pack into the Marquiss chaise the next morning, even though they left Watkins and Scrivens behind to see to the repairs of the coach and follow on when these had been completed and the horses rested. Tom, still sulking a little, sat beside his lordship facing Lydia and Betty and it seemed to Lydia that the Marquis was having even greater difficulty with his long legs. By the time they stopped for nuncheon they were all glad to get out and stretch their cramped limbs. The inn was the one where she and Tom would have stayed the previous night but for the accident, and their fresh horses were waiting for them; but now, of course, they had no carriage to harness them to. Tom was all for riding one of them but he would not leave Lydia alone in the carriage with the Marquis, especially as they were approaching London and might set the tongues wagging with unfavourable gossip about her before she had even set foot on its flags. It would not be a very auspicious start to her come-out. Jack, seeing and sympathising with his dilemma, decided he, too, would prefer to ride, even if the mounts were a couple of mediocre carriage horses and he was hardly dressed for it, and thus the calvalcade entered the metropolis and pulled up at the door of Wenthorpe House in Portman Square.
Mrs Agatha Wenthorpe, widow of Lord Wenthorpes younger brother, had arrived from her own home in Edgware a few days previously and had immediately set about opening up the house, which had remained unoccupied, except for a handful of servants, for years. She had engaged more staff, ordered all the windows opened and fires lit in every room. The dust-covers had been removed, the carpets beaten, floors scrubbed, furniture polished and flowers brought in and arranged in vases on every table and ledge big enough to receive them so that overriding the lingering fusty smell of disused rooms was the scent of soap and beeswax, narcissi and pansies.
It was some years since Lydia had seen her aunt and in that time the lady had become even more eccentric in her appearance. She was sitting in one of the small downstair parlours with her feet on a footstool by the fire, reading one of Miss Austens novels through a very thick quizzing glass, when they were announced, but rose quickly to greet them. She was a short, dumpy woman, made even broader by the caging she wore in her very old-fashioned gown of coffee-coloured brocade with its wide over-sleeves. Her face was heavily powdered and a patch on her cheek disguised an ugly pockmark. On her head she wore a startling red wig. Lydia had loved her as a child and she saw no reason now to change her opinion. She hurried forward and allowed herself to be embraced. Dear Aunt, such an adventure we have had, she said, after Mrs Wenthorpe had released her and held her hand out for Tom to kiss, which he did, thankful that she could not see his smile at her extraordinary dress.
Aunt, may I present the Marquis of Longham? Lydia said, turning to Jack who had been prevailed upon to come in to meet Mrs Wenthorpe. He has been a prodigious help, for without him we would have been delayed for days and days.
Indeed? Then I must add my gratitude to my nieces, she said, putting up the quizzing glass and eyeing him up and down with great candour. You will stay for supper?
Jack, without a trace of discomfort, bowed low over her plump, bejewelled hand. Alas, I have pressing business, maam.
Then you must call when you are not so pressed. We cannot let you go unthanked.
I have been sufficiently thanked, maam, he said. And now that Miss Wenthorpe is safely in your hands, I must take my leave. He bowed again to Mrs Wenthorpe and then to Lydia and, with a, Good evening, Wenthorpe, to Tom, left the room.
Well! said Aunt Aggie, letting out her breath in a long sigh. Theres a top-lofty male if ever I saw one. He could not get away fast enough. What have you done to him, Lydia?
I, Aunt? Why, nothing. I do believe that is his usual manner. I really think he did not want to rescue us and now he is glad to have us off his hands.
Why should he not wish to help? Is there something wrong with him?
I hardly know, Aunt, but his carriage was worse then ours. If it had not been drawn by the most beautiful pair of bays I have ever seen, I would have taken him for an impostor. And, you must admit, his manners leave much to be desired
I expect he took a leaf out of your book, Mrs Wenthorpe said in mild rebuke. But we can soon put a town polish on you and then you will have any number of offers. Tomorrow we must shop for clothes She stopped because Lydia had barely been able to conceal a smile at the thought of her outrageously dressed aunt Aggie selecting clothes for her. I do not pretend to be all the crack myself and I am too old to change my ways, but I know someone who will see that you are dressed properly. I shall take you to my great friend, Lavinia Davies. Tonight we will sup quietly and go to bed early, for we have a busy day ahead of us. She turned to Tom. What had you planned, young man?
Oh, I shall amuse myself, never fear, he said. A visit to Westons for a new suit of clothes, a few hands of cards at Whites, a ride perhaps. And dont you think we had better buy a new town carriage? Even supposing our travelling chaise can be repaired, it is as old as the ark. Not having ridden in it since before I went to Cambridge, I had not realised how old-fashioned and unsound it was. It is hardly suitable for town use; Lydia cannot go to balls and routs in it, nor to the park, and expect to be noticed by the ton unless it be for being a frump.
I am not a frump!
I did not say you were, but I am sure that is what the Marquis thought when he saw you looking as though you had been tumbled in the hay. And as for our equipage
Damn the Marquis! his sister said with feeling. Was that why he had looked at her so hard and long?
Lydia! Mrs Wenthorpe was shocked into reaching for the glass of claret at her elbow. That is not the language of a lady.
I am sorry, Aunt, but if I have to weigh up every man I meet with nothing but marriage in mind, then I would as lief not marry at all.
But you must, child! That is what you are here for and why I am here, to make sure you come out in a manner fitting your station and wealth and to make sure you are not gulled by unsuitable offers. She smiled and laid a hand over Lydias. You will enjoy it, my dear, and I am sure you will find someone to suit before the Season is over.
And if I dont?
Then I will have failed your dear papa, and so will you.
Lydia fell silent on the subject. It would do no good to argue and she would have to pretend to be enjoying herself, even flirt a little, but that did not mean she was committed. Unless, by some miracle, she fell in love, she would put off making a decision; that was and she smiled to herself if anyone offered for her, which was not at all a certainty. She was too tall and not especially beautiful and she was certainly outspoken, none of which would endear her to would-be husbands who, for the most part, only needed a breeding machine. It was not that she was against marriage and having children, but she had, in her growing up, had plenty of time to observe the disastrous marriages of her acquaintances and compare them with the loving relationship of her own parents, and nothing less than that would do.
CHAPTER TWO
THERE could not have been a greater contrast between Mrs Wenthorpe and the modishly attired Mrs Davies, but neither seemed to pay any heed to that, and after a cosy exchange of the latest on-dit they took Lydia to visit a dressmaker where Mrs Davies bespoke dresses for morning wear, for walking and for carriage rides, dresses for assemblies, for breakfasts, for the opera, for balls, and a dark blue velvet riding habit with a jacket frogged in the Polish style, to be worn over a white silk shirt with ruffles at throat and wrist. From there they went on to buy a tall beaver hat with a curly brim and a peacock feather to go with the riding habit, bonnets, caps and shawls, underlinen, mantles and muffs, shoes, dancing slippers and half-boots of crimson jean.
Lydia sincerely hoped the expense her father was being put to would be worth his while and was beginning to feel guilty that she had no intention of allowing herself to fall into the marriage net simply because he though it was time she was wed. If he wanted grandsons, let Tom produce them. The idea of Tom as a father was so amusing, she was still laughing when he joined them for luncheon at three oclock, having taken a leaf from her book and decked himself out in the latest fashion.