Authors: Philippa Carr
We sat silently holding hands. Then he rose and said: ‘Now I shall go to our hostess. I shall tell her I must leave first thing in the morning. It is better so. When I am gone you can tell them the truth, who I am… everything. It will be easier that way.’
I nodded miserably.
So the sad night passed. We were taken to our separate rooms; he had to share with one of the higher servants because that was all that was available. I had a small room of my own. I lay awake thinking of him and I knew he was thinking of me.
At dawn I went down to the stables.
We clung together for a few moments. His last words before he rode away were: ‘I’ll come back. Remember it. I shall come back for you, Clarissa.’
I stood watching him ride away in the early morning light.
There was a great deal of explaining to do and when Uncle Carl and Lance heard my story they were horrified.
‘How could Lord Hessenfield send you away like that!’ cried Uncle Carl.
‘How could he keep her there?’ asked Lance. ‘He did the right thing. Gad, what could have happened to her in the hands of Frenshaw!’
‘They thought I was spying,’ I explained.
‘A pretty kettle of fish,’ said Uncle Carl. ‘Now the problem is, what are we going to do with you? You know what’s happening, don’t you? The country’s in a state of tension. The fact that those Highlanders got as far as Preston has shaken us all up a bit. Who would have believed that possible? The North is a hotbed of treachery.’
‘They say the same of the South.’
‘Ah,’ cried Lance, ‘have they made a little Jacobite of you?’
‘Indeed they have not! I think the whole matter is stupid. Who cares…?’
Lance took my hand and kissed it. ‘Your feminine reasoning doubtless displays wisdom,’ he said, ‘but men will never see it. They will continue to wage war and that is a fact we must face. Besides, Clarissa, James is no good. The people would not unite under him. He’s a bigot. He would bring Catholicism to the country and because of Bloody Mary’s Smithfield fires and because some of our sailors have had experience of the Inquisition in Spain, that is something Englishmen will not endure. George may not be all we desire, but he is peaceable and he doesn’t interfere with the people too much. Trade will prosper under him, you’ll see. That’s what we want, a nice German Boor… not a fiercely romantic bigoted Chevalier.’
‘The immediate question is, what are we to do about Clarissa,’ interrupted Uncle Carl.
‘I believe there is a coach which leaves Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. It goes from York to London.’
‘You are well informed,’ replied my uncle, ‘but I should not allow you to travel alone on such a coach.’
‘Why not? People do.’
‘Not ladies of our family. Lance…’
Lance smiled at him almost as though he knew beforehand what my uncle was going to suggest.
‘You will be going to London in a few days’ time.’
‘That’s so,’ said Lance.
‘If you could take Clarissa with you… Perhaps we could arrange for someone to come to London and take her back from there to Enderby. I am sure Jeremy or Leigh would be able to.’
Lance said: ‘It shall be my great pleasure to conduct the lady Clarissa not only to London but to Enderby itself.’
I smiled faintly. My thoughts were with Dickon.
All through the days which followed, I thought of Dickon, but the best possible companion I could have had was Lance Clavering. His lively conversation, his observations on life and the passing scene diverted my thoughts from the recent parting as I was sure nothing else could have done.
Moreover, I think he understood what had happened. He was gentle with me, a little wistful, I thought; but all the time he was ebullient and his merry wit did bring a certain comfort to me.
We were fortunate in the weather, which grew more clement as we journeyed south. The skies were even blues and there was little wind. When we left in the early morning there was rime on the tree branches and on the road, but by mid-morning when the sun had come up it had disappeared and although there was a sharp bite in the air it was good for getting along.
Lance sang, laughed and talked a good deal, determined to comfort me; and after a few hours in his company I really did begin to feel better. There was a bright optimism about his attitude to life and it was easy to catch this and believe that one day this stupid trouble would be settled and Dickon could come and visit us. I was sure Damaris and Jeremy would like him; and they would make him welcome when they realized I loved him.
This was the effect Lance had on me. Life was to be enjoyed, and there was always something to laugh about.
I even found myself joining in his singing as we rode along because he urged me to do so—and I was grateful to him.
We travelled with two grooms so we were a party of four. A highwayman would think twice about attacking three strong men.
At dusk on the first day we reached an inn which was known to Lance and where, he said, we should be assured of good service.
He was right. The landlord greeted us effusively and provided two of the guest rooms for us; the grooms were accommodated in another room. It all seemed very satisfactory. When we had washed the stains of the journey from our faces and hands we went down to the inn parlour for a meal. It was delicious, as Lance said it would be. Thick slices of succulent beef were served with dumplings; and there was also pigeon pie with sweetmeats to follow. Wine was brought especially from the cellar to satisfy Lance’s refined palate and if I had not been wondering what had happened to Dickon I could have been very content in Lance’s company.
We talked all the time about his adventures in the army, deliberately not mentioning the present troubles because he sensed that would only increase my anxieties. I really did appreciate his kindness during that journey.
The innkeeper’s wife came in while we were finishing the meal to ask if Lance would like some port wine. He said he would and she told us that she was expecting the coach to arrive at any minute because this was the day for it.
‘They’ll be a hungry lot, they will,’ she went on, ‘but we’re ready for them. These coaches have been good for business. They’re regular, like… more or less. I’ve got enough beef for the coach-load of them… and all hot and ready to serve the minute they arrive.’
The port was brought and as Lance was sipping it the coach lumbered into the inn yard, and the weary passengers spilled out of it—cold, hungry, their faces pinched and pale.
‘Come along in,’ said the host. ‘There’s a fire to warm you and you’ll be fed in next to no time.’
The host’s wife came running into the parlour. ‘They’ve come,’ she announced. ‘I doubt the likes of you will want to be in the same room with ’em. I’ll keep them out though till you’ve finished your port, my lord.’
I liked the way Lance stood up. ‘No,’ he said, ‘let them come in. I can take the port to my bedroom. Poor things, it’s no joy travelling in those coaches. Bone-shakers, I’ve heard them called. Come on, Clarissa, let’s leave them to their food.’
‘Well, thank’ee, sir,’ said the woman. ‘That’s real kind and thoughtful of you.’
I smiled at Lance, thinking that for all his finery and dandified ways he was a true gentleman.
As we walked out of the inn parlour there were more sounds of arrival from without and before we could ascend the stairs to our rooms three men came hurrying in. They were fashionably dressed and one of them, smelling the food which was about to be taken into the dining-room for the stagecoach passengers cried: ‘Gad! The smell is appetizing. What is it, woman?’
The innkeeper’s wife, with that unfailing instinct for recognizing the gentry, bobbed a curtsey and said: ‘’Tis the food we be about to serve to the stage which is just come in, my lord.’
‘Then serve us with some of this goodly-smelling fare before you deal with the stage.’
The landlord came out rubbing his hands obsequiously but showing that he was uneasy.
‘My good lords,’ he said, ‘we have only enough for the coach. ‘Tis bespoke, you see. The coach is regular and we have a duty to be ready for it. There be the end of the hot food we have. But I have some fine cheese and fresh-baked barley bread with good wine…’
‘Fine cheese! My good man, we want the hot meal. Let the coach crowd share out what is left of the hot food when we have had our fill. Or let them take the fine cheese. I doubt not that it will satisfy them. Serve the hot dishes to us… and without delay. We have ridden far and are hungry.’
One of the women from the coach had heard what was going on. She was a large, red-faced woman with a determined jaw; she was clearly one who was accustomed to having her own way.
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ she cried. ‘That food is for us. It’s bespoke for the coach. So don’t try none of your fancy tricks, my lord High and Mighty, for me and my party are not having that.’
The leader of the new arrivals held the eyeglass which had been dangling from his elegant jacket and surveyed the woman with astonishment.
‘Landlord,’ he said, ‘this creature offends me. Have her removed.’
The woman put her hands on her hips and regarded him steadily. ‘Watch yourself, my little cock sparrer,’ she shouted, ‘or it won’t be me what gets put out.’
‘The creature would be insolent.’
He took a few steps forward and she came to meet him. He put up a hand as though to brush her aside, but it was a blow which sent her reeling against the stairs.
Lance stepped forward then.
‘This is no way to treat a lady, sir,’ he said.
The man stared at him and seemed to be taken aback by coming face to face with one who, on the surface, appeared to be of his own kind.
‘A lady, did you say, sir?’ said the man with a sneer.
‘I did indeed. I have listened to this dispute. The hot food has been prepared for the coach which was due at this time. Unexpected guests cannot expect to take that which has been made ready for others.’
‘Can they not, sir? And may I ask if you are prepared to dine off bread and cheese?’
‘I am not, having just dined off the most excellent beef. But I came in time. I took nothing that was not my due.’
‘You are interfering in what does not concern you.’
‘On the contrary, I am deeply concerned and I will not stand by and see these good people deprived of what is theirs by right.’
‘
You
will not, eh?’
Lance drew his sword and stood there smiling. I was terrified for him. There were three of them against one. But I was proud of him, all the same.
‘Damme,’ said one of the men, ‘if it is not Clavering.’
‘Ah,’ retorted Lance, ‘so it is you, Timperly. I am surprised to see you in such company.’
‘Come, Clavering, what is it to you? These are a mob of coach people.’
‘They deserve their rights whether they travel by stage or private carriage. I say they shall have their dinner, and you would eat very well I am sure—for the Plump Partridge is an excellent inn—on hot bread and fine cheese. The port is good, too. You’ll enjoy it, Timperly.’
‘Look here, Clavering,’ said the first man. ‘What is it to you? Why bother yourself with this?’
‘No matter,’ replied Lance. ‘Just let it stand that I do. I’ll challenge any one of you to single combat. Let’s fight it out.’
‘Taken,’ said the first man.
‘Careful,’ added Timperly. ‘You know Clavering’s reputation with a sword.’
‘Afraid?’ asked Lance. ‘Come on. Which one of you? We’ll fight it out for hot beef with dumplings against bread and cheese.’
‘I’ll take you on,’ was the answer. It was the first man who had drawn his sword.
‘Gentlemen,’ cried Lance, ‘we can’t let this take place without a gamble. What’ll you offer? Twenty pounds between you for me if I win. And if I don’t… but damme! I’m so certain of victory that I’ll make it twenty apiece if he pricks me first.’
‘And the matter is settled at the first prick?’ said Timperly, brightening considerably.
‘So be it,’ said Lance.
‘When do we start?’
‘Here and now.’
The host and hostess were standing by in dismay, and several of the coach passengers looked on in amazement. They whispered together about the cause of the fight, and they were eyeing Lance with something like adoration. I felt proud of him and at the same time afraid; but I knew in my heart that he was going to win. I could not imagine anything else, and as their swords clashed I was caught up in the excitement. I was praying for Lance’s success.
‘Lance… go on. Win, Lance,’ I whispered. The coach passengers were vociferous. They shouted and called, while the host stood by clasping and unclasping his hands.
In a few tense moments it was over. Lance had won. He had pricked his opponent and blood was spurting on to the man’s elegant cuff. Lance gave a cry of triumph as he held up his sword and stood there for a second or so looking like a medieval knight who had fought the good fight and overcome evil.
‘Twenty pounds for me and hot dinners for the coach,’ he cried. ‘A most satisfactory encounter.’
The three men were rueful but accepted their fate. The money changed hands and they went into the inn parlour while the stagecoach people trooped into the dining-room chattering about the adventures they met with travelling by coach.
Lance laid his hand on my arm and said: ‘It is time we retired. We have to be up early in the morning.’
He slipped his arm lightly through mine and we ascended the stairs. When we reached my room he said: ‘What do you think of our little fracas?’
‘I was proud of you,’ I said.
‘Oh, bless you for that.’
‘But I was sorry about the money. That spoilt it somehow.’
‘That made it worthwhile for me as well as for the coach passengers.’
‘It was a pity. Up to that time it seemed such a noble thing to defend the coach people. Then it seemed as though you had done it for a gamble.’
‘I never miss an opportunity to gamble.’
‘I know. But it would have been so much better without.’
He took my chin in his hands and looked into my face. ‘The trouble with you, Clarissa, is that you always look for perfection,’ he said. ‘Don’t. You’re never going to find it, you know.’