The Husband Season (19 page)

‘No, unfortunately. My wife died in childbirth, along with my son.’

‘I am so sorry. I did not mean to make you sad.’

‘Please do not apologise. So many people avoid mentioning her as if the subject is forbidden, almost as if she had never existed.’

‘Would you like to tell me about her?’ Why she asked she did not know; learning about his wife would not make her feel any better, but it might help her to understand him. Perhaps it would ease his pain, too.

He hesitated, and she wondered if she had overstepped the mark as she so often did, but then he seemed to gather himself to answer her. ‘I met her in Saddleworth. Her father, Silas Bamford, owned a wool mill and employed about a thousand workers, some in the mill, some as outworkers. He and Anne were out in their carriage one day, returning from a morning call when they were met by a hostile crowd of workers who threatened to overturn their carriage. Mr Bamford was not one to be intimidated and tried to stand up to them, but Anne was terrified. I had charge of the local militia and had heard about the demonstration and arrived with my men just in time to rescue them. Fortunately no one was hurt, but I escorted them home safely and, well, the rest you can imagine. I was a frequent visitor to their home after that and Anne and I married in 1816. We had just a year together before she was taken from me.’

‘It must have been dreadful for you,’ she murmured, noticing the faraway look in his eyes, as if he were in some other time, some other place.

‘It was. She was so beautiful, so full of life, so affectionate, it seemed cruel of God to take her so young. The baby was beautiful, too.’

‘I cannot begin to think what that must have been like.’

‘I pray you never need to.’

‘You could marry again and still have children.’

He looked sharply at her as if she had gone a step too far. ‘So I could, but I could not bear to go through that again.’

‘Is that why you were not at Mark and Jane’s wedding?’

‘Yes. I was not in a fit state to rejoice at anyone else’s happiness.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But now I go to meet my cousin-in-law and make the acquaintance of young Harry.’

‘And then you will go home to Yorkshire?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not back to London?’

‘No, did you think I would?’

‘I wondered. I thought perhaps Miss Malthouse...’

‘Oh, so this is what the quizzing is about? You would divine my intentions so that you can relay them to your friend. You may tell Miss Malthouse that Adam Trent is not interested in marrying again, not to her, not to anyone.’

‘No, no, you misunderstand me,’ she said quickly.

‘Then, please explain yourself.’

But she could not, could not tell him the real reason she wanted to know more about him, and now she felt mortified and wished she had remained silent and let him go to sleep if he wanted to. ‘I was just making idle conversation.’

‘Then I would hate to be the object of a real interrogation from you, Miss Cavenhurst.’ He paused. ‘Shall I quiz you now?’

‘I am not very interesting.’

‘Allow me to be the judge of that. For instance, what were you doing fleeing from a jeweller’s shop with a member of that establishment after you shouting, “Stop, thief!” I am immensely interested in that.’

She gasped. ‘Why ever would I do such a thing?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Whoever told you must be mistaken. I am not a thief.’

‘I have not accused you of it. But I see you do not deny it was you. I am glad because I should not like to think you are a liar.’

She could feel the heat in her cheeks and knew she could not prevaricate with this man who seemed to witness or hear about every one of her indiscretions. He was looking closely at her now, waiting for her to explain. ‘I did not know...’

‘That you had been observed. I am afraid, my dear, you were.’

‘By whom?’

‘My man, Farley. He was on the way back from the docks after locating your brother when he saw you running and being bundled into a carriage. I feared you had been kidnapped, though it was Farley’s opinion that the occupant was an accomplice.’

‘That’s silly.’

‘I am not accustomed to being called silly, Sophie. Who was in the carriage?’

‘A friend.’

‘Had you arranged for him to be there?’

‘Certainly not! It was pure coincidence, but I own I was very glad to see him.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I had better tell you the whole.’

‘It would be best.’

‘I went to Rundell, Bridge and Rundell to sell my necklace, but they started questioning me about where I had got it and I realised they thought I had stolen it, so I ran.’

‘But surely you could have answered their questions?’

‘Not without naming Jane, and it would have hurt her to think that I would sell her gift to me.’

‘Why didn’t you think about that before you went?’

‘I don’t know. I was so anxious...’

‘I assume it was that scapegrace of a brother you were thinking of. Had he come to ask for more money to see him safely aboard a passenger ship? Were you supposed to meet him by the docks with it? Was this friend going to take you to him?’

‘Certainly not! I had no idea where he was. You know that. You were looking for him for me. It is my belief you got that black eye in the course of your enquiries.’

If she had hoped to divert him from his questions with that, she was disappointed. ‘Then why did you need the money? Are you a gambler, too?’

She stared at him. Did he really think that? ‘My lord...’

‘Come on out with it. How much do you owe and to whom?’

‘I don’t know the exact figure, my lord, but my debt is to you.’

‘Me?’ he asked, astonished.

‘Yes. You paid Teddy’s debts and as far as I am concerned it is only a loan.’

‘It is his debt, not yours. Why do you have to burden yourself with his problems?’

‘He is my brother. I love him in spite of his gambling. In every other way he is the best of brothers. We have always been very close. And I know he tries not to gamble.’

He was silent for some time. She wondered what he was thinking, but his face was inscrutable. She sighed and looked out of the window. They were deep into the country now. Fields, trees, farms, hovels, livestock went by in a flash as the horses cantered on. The carriage pulled up at the coaching inn in Epping where they were to change the horses. Adam went off to pay their dues and Sophie got out and asked Bessie if she wanted to return inside. ‘If it’s all the same to you, Miss Sophie, I’ll stay here. It is so much cooler and Joe has been telling me all about his adventures as a coachman. I had no idea it could be so interesting.’

Farley had done his job well. Fresh horses were ready and waiting and they were soon on their way again, cantering northwards once more, this time through the forest, which made the inside of the coach cooler. Sophie was far from cool. She had been glad of the stop, wondering how much more Adam would have managed to worm out of her but for the interruption. She really must guard her tongue or before she knew it he would know exactly how she felt about him, and how much more mortifying would that be?

Chapter Ten

W
hile the swaying coach negotiated the rough road, made rougher by tree roots making their way up through the hardened track, Adam contemplated the young lady beside him. For the first time since Anne’s death he found himself drawn towards another woman. Sophie was as unlike Anne as it was possible for anyone to be—perhaps that was her attraction. Anne had come from working-class stock. Her father had worked his way up to become a mill manager and then had taken over the mill when the owner retired. He had been blunt and down to earth, at the same time bringing up his motherless daughter to be the epitome of genteel behaviour. He did this with the help of the daughter of a nobleman fallen on hard times who needed a home and a way to earn a living.

Anne had been loving, obedient, trusting and he had adored her. She would never have dreamed of behaving in the hoydenish way that Sophie Cavenhurst behaved. She would never have flouted convention, wandered about town unaccompanied, dressed in a man’s garb, played cricket or ridden astride. Was that why he found Sophie so endearing? She did not try to be anything but what she was: maddening, intensely loyal and outspoken.

At nineteen she had already turned down three suitors. Was she so very hard to please? Or was she playing one against the other while she made up her mind? Did she know about that preposterous wager her brother had made? The irony of that was that Cavenhurst could not lose that one. If she married one of them and he had to pay up, he would still have collected from the other two and been a thousand pounds in pocket, although that would not have helped him much, considering what he owed Toby Moore. What infuriated Adam most was that they appeared to treat it as a game. None of the men needed money.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Sophie’s voice was close to his left ear and startled him.

‘Was I smiling?’

‘Yes. Come, share the joke with me.’

‘It is not fit for a lady’s ears.’

‘Then it is uncivil of you to think about it in a lady’s company.’

‘I beg your pardon. I was thinking about Bertie Gorange.’

‘Lord Gorange. Why?’

‘It was he who rescued you from being apprehended for a jewel thief, was it not?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I collect your aunt saying something about Lord Gorange calling yesterday. I surmise he brought you home.’

‘He happened to be passing near the jeweller’s shop.’

‘Just happened to be passing?’

‘Yes, and I was grateful for it.’

‘How grateful?’

‘My lord, you are as bad as everyone else, thinking I am going to marry one of those three. What I cannot understand is why they persist in wanting me. I have no fortune and I am always falling into scrapes and, according to some, I am a hoyden and a flirt.’

‘Flirt, Miss Cavenhurst? I have seen no evidence of it. And no doubt the gentlemen have their reasons.’

‘Do you know what they might be?’

He was tempted to tell her, but decided she might be hurt by it. ‘No, but you could always marry someone else. That would put a stop to it.’

She gave him a sharp look. He was still smiling. ‘I would, if someone loved me as much as I loved him.’

‘Are you in love?’

‘No, I was speaking generally,’ she said, feeling the colour mount in her cheeks. ‘Shall we change the subject?’

‘As you wish.’

‘Tell me about the business that took you to London, if it was not to look for a wife.’

‘I went to speak in the House of Lords about the problems of the workingman and what I thought should be done.’

‘What do you think should be done?’

They were on safer ground now and he outlined his ideas on the subject. She listened carefully. ‘Unfortunately, they were in no mood to listen and I fear the workers will take matters into their own hands,’ he said.

‘Riot, you mean?’

‘Perhaps. They are certainly planning another large meeting.’

‘And you mean to stop it?’

‘I wish I could. I do not know when and where it is to be. And the hotheads will not listen, either.’

‘And you are pig in the middle.’

He smiled. ‘You could say that.’

‘Is that how you received your injuries?’

‘Injuries? You mean this?’ He pointed to the eyepatch.

‘Yes, and other injuries not quite so obvious. I noticed you flinch when that ostler bumped into you when we stopped to change the horses, and you wriggle in your seat as if you find it difficult to be comfortable.’

‘You are very observant.’

‘Teddy was always injuring himself when he was young and pretending it was nothing. I learned the signs.’

‘I was set upon by thieves. I do not think it had anything to do with my mission to London.’

‘I am sorry, my lord.’

‘No need to be. I’ll live.’ He gave her a quirky smile, which made her heart flip. The more she learned about him, the more she loved him, if that were possible. He cared about people, especially those for whom he felt responsible. He was thoughtful and generous. Who else would have paid Teddy’s debts? Certainly not Reggie or Richard Fanshawe, and Lord Gorange had only offered to do so on a consideration.

‘You missed Cassie’s come-out ball on account of it.’

‘Yes, that is to be regretted. Was it a lively affair?’

‘Yes. Everyone was in good spirits. The music was good and the food excellent. You were missed.’

‘By you?’

‘By everyone, particularly Cassie,’ she said quickly.

‘Then perhaps it was as well I did not go. I would not want to raise false hopes. Miss Malthouse will no doubt soon find someone else.’

So Cassie was to be disappointed. It seemed he really meant to keep his vow not to remarry.

The horses were slowing for their next stop where they planned to have something to eat and drink. Bessie, helped down from the box by the jovial coachman, joined them for their meal and personal conversation was set aside. Less than an hour later they were on their way again, but this time Bessie rode inside.

Talk was desultory and for the most part consisted of Bessie, prompted by Sophie, telling them what she and the coachman had talked about and what she had viewed from her seat beside him. Adam showed no sign of being bored and listened with grave attention, even putting in a comment of his own now and again. Thus the journey continued, during which they stopped several times to change the horses. They reached the Cross Keys in Saffron Walden as dusk began to fall, late at that time of the year, and there Alfred Farley was waiting for them with bedchambers booked.

They all dined together, master and man, mistress and maid, and it did not seem to matter. Their coachman found convivial company elsewhere. Sophie was used to sharing with Bessie, but she was surprised that Adam was so easy with Mr Farley. He was not uncouth, but rough and ready and seemed to enjoy more than the usual rapport of master and man with the viscount. It was one more indication of his lordship’s character, she decided.

* * *

As soon as the meal ended, Sophie and Bessie went up to the bedchamber they were to share and left the men enjoying tankards of ale.

‘Did you have any trouble on the way, my lord?’ Farley asked.

‘No, everything went smoothly, thanks to you. But I did wonder if we were being followed. I could hear hoofbeats behind us on some of the harder roads. When we stopped to allow Miss Cavenhurst’s maid to step down, they stopped, too, and resumed as soon as we were on our way again.’

‘Did they follow you into the yard here?’

‘No, I do not think so. Perhaps I imagined it.’

‘Could be the cove who was dogging you in the Smoke.’

‘But why?’

‘I have no idea, my lord, but it seems someone is very curious to know what you are about.’

‘I am not doing anything clandestine.’

‘No, but he is.’

‘Have you booked our change of horses for the rest of the way?’

‘Yes, my lord, as far as Downham Market. The last four cattle should take you to Hadlea, if not hurried.’

‘Good. How did you find the mare? Was she up to it?’

‘Yes, my lord. She is a goer, I’ll give you that.’

‘You did not press her too hard?’

‘No, my lord. I left her at an inn for a couple of stages and hired a hack so that she could rest. I picked her up again on the way back, just as you instructed. She is in fine fettle.’

‘Then follow on behind tomorrow, and if you should notice anyone taking more than a casual interest in us, come and tell me. I do not need to warn you to say nothing of our follower to the ladies, do I?’

‘No, my lord, certainly not.’

‘Better go to bed now. We still have a long way to go. I’ll see to myself.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ Farley rose stiffly, evidence of his long hours in the saddle. Adam smiled as he watched him mount the stairs, hauling on the banister to help him up. He would go a long way before he found a man as willing and loyal as Alfred Farley. He was a good man to have at his side in a sticky situation.

Whether they were truly in a sticky situation, he did not know. But if there were someone following them, was it the same someone who had followed him back to Wyndham House two nights before and cheekily saluted him from the road? What on earth could he want? He didn’t think it was anything to do with Teddy Cavenhurst or Sophie, but it would be good to be sure. He rose and went up to his bedroom, but before he climbed into bed, he primed his pistol and checked his ammunition.

* * *

The journey next day continued as the day before with casual conversation and frequent stops to change the horses. Sophie was amused to see that Farley was riding Swift and was keeping close behind them. Occasionally he rode off somewhere, but soon returned and took up his place behind them. Poor man, it must be very tiring for him. Adam was sitting opposite her again, his legs uncomfortably squashed.

‘I see your man is riding Swift,’ she said.

‘Yes, it is one way to transport the animal, and he had to ride on ahead to arrange for horses to be ready. I did not want to leave it to chance.’

‘It must have been uncomfortable riding all day. I noticed him walking rather stiffly when he dismounted at the last stop.’

‘Yes, so did I. I will take a turn riding shortly and he can sit beside the coachman.’

* * *

At the next change of horses he took over the riding and Farley rode on the box, leaving Sophie and Bessie in possession of the interior of the carriage. The air was stifling and Sophie could see Bessie was suffering. ‘We will stop again soon,’ she said. ‘And I will ask his lordship if we can spare a little time so that you may go into the inn and have a cold drink and rest in the shade.’

‘We must not delay him,’ the maid said. ‘You know how cross he was last time.’

‘He can be as cross as he likes. I shall insist.’

‘Oh, dear, I am sorry to be so much trouble to you.’

‘You are not half as much trouble to me as I have been to you, Bessie, so do not think of it.’

‘I wish the weather would cool down, then I should be more comfortable.’

* * *

They had not gone much farther when her wish was granted. The sun was blocked out by dark clouds rolling in from the north and the interior of the carriage became almost as dark as night. ‘It is going to rain,’ Sophie said. ‘That will cool us all down.’ As she spoke they saw a flash of lightning and seconds afterwards a rumble of thunder.

Adam, who was riding behind, called the coachman to stop. He dismounted and tied Swift on behind the carriage. ‘Alfred, into the carriage with you,’ he said. Then to the coachman, who was even then putting on a heavy overcoat with several capes, ‘Can you keep going?’

‘Aye, my lord, though the horses might get a bit skittish.’ A sheet of lightning lit the sky as he spoke and the thunder seemed nearer. The horses moved restlessly.

‘In that case find somewhere where we can shelter, an inn or a farm building. Not trees.’

‘I do know better’n that,’ he said, miffed.

Adam joined his servant and the ladies in the carriage, doubling himself up to leave them adequate room. Bessie was shivering now, not so much with cold but fear. She had always been terrified of thunderstorms and would always go round the house when one threatened, covering all the mirrors and making sure any cutlery was safely in drawers. There was no cutlery or mirrors in the coach, but the horses were definitely nervous. They were galloping at a cracking pace and they could hear the coachman calling out, trying to calm them. To make matters worse, rain was beating on the roof in a loud tattoo. Bessie threw her shawl over her head and even Sophie was uneasy as the carriage lurched from side to side. Suddenly they swung into a farmyard, turned into an open-sided barn and pulled to a sudden stop. Sophie was catapulted into Adam’s lap.

Instinctively he grabbed her. She found her head against his chest and his arms enfolding her. She could feel the regular beat of his heart and tilted her head up to look at his face. He was smiling. ‘Much as I would like to savour the moment, I fear I have to let you go,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘I must help with the horses.’

She scrambled inelegantly off his knees and returned to her seat, her face on fire. He left the coach followed by Farley and she decided to go, too, and help. Swift, with no one on her back, had had no trouble keeping up with the carriage, but she was shivering and her eyes were wide with terror. Sophie went to calm her, holding her head and murmuring softly in her ear, ‘Easy now, my beauty. Easy. It will soon be over.’ Outside the rain beat down and the farmyard was soon awash. The mare became calmer, but she still shook when thunder rolled.

Adam, aware that Sophie knew what she was doing, left Swift to her and concentrated on the carriage horses. It took the combined efforts of the three men to stop them rearing every time lightning lit up the gloom in the barn. There was a haywain piled with hay at the far end. Adam pulled a few handfuls from it to give to the horses, and Sophie filled a nosebag for Swift.

They heard a dog barking and turned as a large mongrel ran into the barn and stopped to growl, baring his teeth. He was closely followed by a stout man in fustian coat and breeches, wearing a sack over his shoulders. His broad-brimmed hat was dripping rain from the brim. ‘What d’yer think you’re a-doin’?’ he demanded angrily.