Rebel Heiress (15 page)

‘Rivers,' she said, ‘at last.'

‘Yes, at last it is.' He led Henrietta up the steps. ‘And only see who I have brought with me.'

Lady Marchmont peered out through the gathering gloom. ‘Why, can it be — Henrietta? What does this mean? Where is Cedric?'

‘Quite safe. At Cumber.' Rivers launched at once into the explanation he had suggested to Henrietta.

Lady Marchmont listened with the proper exclamations of alarm and sympathy as she ushered them indoors. Henrietta, she cooed, must be quite exhausted. She had best go at once to
her room. The housekeeper would show her the way and Rose would bring her a cup of hot milk. Henrietta fell in gratefully enough with this plan and followed the housekeeper up the wide stairway after the briefest of grateful goodnights to Rivers. Her last sight of him was as he turned to follow her stepmother down the long hall to an open doorway glimmering with fire and candlelight. Sinking gratefully back against soft pillows, a little later, Henrietta paused on the threshold of sleep to consider Lady Marchmont's appearance at the door. She had never seen her father greeted thus. And where, she wondered, were the Crokers? But she was too tired to puzzle it out; sleep enveloped her and she dreamed, confusingly, of Cedric Beaufrage and Charles Rivers.

She woke to find the house filled with sunshine and cheerfulness. The Crokers appeared at ten o'clock breakfast, explaining to Henrietta that they too had retired early and exhausted. Astonishingly, Lady Marchmont was also down, pouring tea for the party as if she did it every day. Rivers, beside her, handed cups and explained that he had got no further than Ushant on his voyage to Portugal. They had been caught by contrary winds there, and had finally, after much beating about the Channel, been forced back to Plymouth.

‘And a good thing too,' said Lady Marchmont. ‘I thought all the time 'twas a shatterbrained scheme of yours to go back so soon. But you are safe home with us now and shall stay here till we have you fully recovered. Charles is my lord's ward' — she turned to explain to Henrietta — ‘so naturally I feel almost as concerned for him as I would for my dear Cedric.'

Rivers made her a gallant bow of acknowledgment. ‘And that puts me in mind,' he said, ‘that I promised Beaufrage I would ride over this morning and see if I could be of any assistance to him.'

Lady Marchmont made some objections on the grounds of his health but he soon scouted these, insisting that the doctors prescribed fresh air and exercise as the best specifics for his complaint. He bowed once more over Lady Marchmont's hand, combined a less formal farewell with a reassuring smile for Henrietta, and took his leave.

Carrying on a polite conversation with Mrs. Croker about yesterday's review, Henrietta wrestled with amazement. How had it happened that she had never known that Rivers was her father's ward? Natural enough, perhaps, that Rivers himself
had not mentioned it in that first conversation of theirs on the Plymouth road. Looking back on it, she thought with discomfort that she had talked so much he had hardly had a chance to get a word in. The wardship explained, of course, the warmth of his references to Lady Marchmont. And, after all, why should she have heard of it? Having failed to do so on the day of her arrival, she herself had never, somehow, mentioned her encounter with Charles Rivers. And now, looking back, she did remember two brothers called Charles and Simon, young men in whose careers her father had interested himself. Her father had mentioned Simon's brilliance at St. Andrews; her stepmother had been anxious about Charles' health. How could she have known? But Mrs. Crocker was repeating an enquiry about the accident the night before. She collected her wits to reply.

Rivers and Beaufrage rode up to the house late in the afternoon, apparently on the best of terms, and, as Rivers had predicted, Beaufrage confirmed their story at every point, apologising prettily to Henrietta for the accident and thanking Rivers for coming to the rescue. The curricle would be repaired tomorrow. The incident was over.

Henrietta sighed with relief, and, a little, with puzzlement. Rivers' conquest of Beaufrage seemed almost too easy. She wished she knew whether Cedric had told his mother the truth about the previous night's adventure. She thought not, but if he had it would help to account for the feeling of tension in the household that became increasingly apparent after the Crokers had left for London. Or was it all her imagination? Very likely. The previous night had been enough to overset the strongest nerves.

Lady Marchmont had carried Rivers off to her boudoir to render, she said, an account of himself. Wishing at all costs to avoid Cedric Beaufrage, Henrietta escaped to explore the garden, with its ornamental water and Palladian temple. Ridiculous to let herself wish Rivers had been free to accompany her and be properly thanked … Naturally, he had a duty to Lady Marchmont.

She had just made the circuit of the ornamental water and was wishing she had brought bread for some very exotic ducks, when she was surprised and delighted by the sight of her father's carriage rolling up the drive. She ran to meet him at the front of the house, and he jumped quickly down to embrace her. ‘The news is all too true, I fear.'

His first words puzzled her for a moment, then she remembered that he had left on the unwelcome tidings of the American declaration of war. It amazed and shamed her to think that she had forgotten about it for so many hours. Now she recollected herself and cross-examined him eagerly about the news, which was scant and discouraging enough.

‘And I fear,' he concluded, ‘that I can only remain here overnight. I came but to see whether you and my lady wish to remain or to return with me to London. What do you think, my dear? Can you bear to miss Lady Allen's rout or will you be glad to have a few days of country quiet, even if I cannot share it with you?'

She hesitated a moment. ‘For myself, Father, I believe I would rather return with you, but I think Lady Marchmont may wish to stay, for Mr. Rivers' sake.'

‘Rivers?' There was surprise, but not much pleasure, in his tone.

‘Yes, he arrived last night. His ship has been beating about the Channel these weeks past, and the confinement has brought on a recurrence of his Walcheren fever. But, Father, you never told me he was your ward.'

‘Why should I? He and his younger brother have been in my charge for years. Simon is studying for the ministry; a promising boy. As for Charles, nothing would suit him but a pair of colours, which I was glad enough to buy. Nothing about either of them that should concern you, my dear.' And then, on a sharper note: ‘Arrived last night, did he? And how long does he intend staying?'

‘Why, till he is quite recovered, I collect. Lady Marchmont says he went back too soon last time and she will see to it that he does not do so again.'

‘Oh, she does, does she?' He was walking, as he spoke, briskly towards the house, and as Henrietta's arm was linked with his she had no choice but to accompany him. By now the news of his arrival had spread, and the doors were thrown open as they approached. The butler advanced with a speech of welcome, which Lord Marchmont answered, Henrietta thought, with unusual curtness. Lady Marchmont had appeared at the head of the wide stairway.

‘My lord! What a delightful surprise.' She hurried down to greet him.

He, on the other hand, had paused, and was considering her
from the foot of the stairs. ‘Yes,' he said dryly, ‘I had hoped to surprise you, and have succeeded, I collect, better than I had intended.'

‘And most happily.' She held up her exquisite cheek for his kiss. ‘And I have a surprise for you, too, my lord.'

‘A pleasant one, I hope.'

‘Oh, exceedingly. Charles is returned from the wars.'

‘Rivers? I did not even know he had returned
to
them.'

‘Why, nor had he. That is why it is so delightful. But I can see that Henrietta has played traitor and stolen my thunder. So in return I will tell you a story of her, my love, that will make you raise your eyebrows. What do you think of her returning here, alone in his carriage, with Rivers last night?'

‘With Rivers?'

‘Yes. I was like to sink with surprise. But I must tell you the whole story. It is most romantic, I assure you, with Henrietta for the damsel in distress, Rivers for the gallant knight, and my poor Cedric, I fear, for nothing better than the clown. Only think of his contriving to overset Henrietta in his curricle on their way back from Sandhurst. Did you ever hear of such a looby? If it had not been for Rivers' coming to their rescue, I do not like to think what would have happened. But I can see you are exhausted. Come but upstairs to my boudoir and I will tell you the whole.' And she led him away, every inch the loving wife, with an affectionate, apologetic and at the same time conspiratorial smile that effectively dismissed Henrietta.

To Henrietta's surprise, they went back to London after all. Her father announced the decision over dinner in tones that brooked no discussion, but suggested that Rivers might wish to remain in the country for the sake of his health. ‘The house is at your disposal as always. Or will you run down to Oxford to see how Simon is getting on with his studies?'

‘Oh, I think not, sir. Young Simon gets along very well without
me, and, to tell truth, I do not find his Oxford friends quite in my line.'

‘No,' said Lord Marchmont dryly. ‘I imagine not From what I hear, he is what you would doubtless call a grind. His tutor spoke highly of him in his last letter.'

‘I am delighted to hear it.' Rivers' warm tone was in marked contrast to his guardian's. ‘I must write old Simon. He always
seems
older than me,' he explained in a laughing aside to Henrietta. ‘But as to visiting him … Well' — he shrugged — ‘I believe I would liefer give myself the pleasure of accompanying you back to town. I have my old rooms, sir. There is no need for me to be a trouble to you or to Lady Marchmont.'

So they were in town, after all, for Lady Allen's ball, and Henrietta learned with delight that Rivers was to meet them there. To her pleased surprise, her father also joined them there for a short time after the House of Lords had risen, and when they left it was he who handed his wife into her carriage while Rivers followed with Henrietta. To her profound relief, Lord Beaufrage had finally left for Brighton. There had been no explanation between them about the accident at Cumber, and indeed he had studiously avoided being alone with her. She was only too happy on her part to forget the whole incident and soon did so in the excitement of the season's end, to which Rivers' constant escort added a new delight. They all went to the races, where Henrietta was happy to watch her father and stepmother parading the course arm in arm, like Darby and Joan, as Lady Marchmont said, while she herself followed happily with Rivers. A few days later they saw Mrs. Siddons' last appearance at Covent Garden. Henrietta wept herself weary at her performance as Lady Macbeth, and the management was forced to ring the curtain down after her last exit. The season was waning now and people had begun to drift out of town. Lady Marchmont talked, from time to time, about the heat, about Marchmont Hall and country air. But Lord Marchmont was still fixed in London. There was talk of a dissolution; the war news was bad; the cost of living was rising and the Derbyshire riots had left an unhappy aftermath. He must stay in London, and while he stayed, it seemed, his wife would too. So, to Henrietta's silent pleasure, did Rivers.

Henrietta, who went frequently to the House of Lords to hear her father speak, was puzzled, on two occasions, by seeing
her stepmother's familiar blue chariot drawn up near Rivers' door in Curzon Street as she passed the turning. On the second occasion, she felt bound to remark on this to Lady Marchmont when she returned, but was greeted with an amazed stare.

‘My chariot? In Curzon Street? My love, you must have been daydreaming. Fenner will tell you I have been confined to my room all day with one of my megrims. As for the chariot, no doubt Harriette Wilson or one of that sisterhood has thought fit to copy my colours. Best not mention it to your father, my love, I fear he is prejudiced enough against poor Rivers as it is. Anyone would think the poor boy took ill again on purpose, but you and I both know, do we not, love, how he longs to be back at his duty? To tell truth, my lord has never had much patience with those two boys. I think he was not best pleased to be named their guardian when they had a grandfather still living.' She laughed. ‘And if you ask me, Lord Queensmere, the grandfather, was not precisely enchanted either. Naturally he blamed my lord for this new idiocy of that silly boy, Simon.'

‘Oh?' Henrietta knew that her father had flown into one of his rages after receiving letters from Oxford.

‘Oh, indeed! The silly young fool must needs decide he wants to go into politics. A younger son with a family living in keeping for him and he pleads religious scruples! I will say for Charles that he has always seen his duty and done it. I've no patience with his brother. An obstinate palefaced boy, always sitting in corners with a book, and I fear he is like to prove as obstinate a man. Well, if he refases to take orders he'll have his own fortune to seek, and so I told my lord to warn him. As for Charles' — her tone warmed — ‘leave me alone to scold him for keeping petticoat company, but let us not trouble your father with it. He has enough on his mind as it is.'

It was true enough. Lord Marchmont looked tired to death, but July turned dustily to August and still they lingered in town. Lady Marchmont complained prettily about the dearth of Society, but consented to venture so far as Covent Garden to see the young Roscius, now a personable young man and an infant prodigy no longer. Henrietta found him disappointing, and was glad when her father arrived and insisted on taking them home before the farce. Henrietta, he said, was looking fagged. He hoped they would all be able to leave town next week.