Fenella Miller (18 page)

Relieved, Marianne settled back, gripping firmly to the straps, in anticipation of the bumpy ride ahead. The carriage jolted to a halt at the end of the drive and the door was flung open.

‘Here I am, Marianne, did you think I had abandoned you?’

She smiled. ‘No, Edward, I did not. Jane told me your plan. Put your bag under the seat, there is ample room next to Jane. Then you sit beside me.’

The carriage was old but well sprung. Lord Grierson had never stinted himself when it came to horseflesh so they made good time. The toll road to London was well frequented and the numerous highwayman and footpads that plagued the routes were not a problem during daylight hours.

‘We have to find somewhere to put up overnight, Edward. It will be dark in an hour. We do not wish to be on the roads then.’

Immediately Edward leant out of the window and shouted at the coachman to pull up. ‘I will ride ahead with Tom and find somewhere. We will need a room and private parlour for you, but I can sleep outside with the boys if necessary.’

Marianne was shocked. ‘You will do no such thing. Your parents would be horrified. We need two bedchambers but we could manage without a parlour.’

‘I shall send Tom back when I have it arranged. It is early yet, no danger from footpads until full dark.’

The carriage seemed empty and quiet without him and Marianne became silent, overwhelmed by sadness. How had she come to this? To be sent packing for a second time in less than a month? She had believed herself innocent of any fault when Sir James Russell had almost enticed her to disaster but now it had happened a second time she had to rethink her role in these events. Perhaps she was not a respectable girl but a flighty, flirtatious one, who led men on to behave badly.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she lowered her head, keeping her face hidden from Jane inside her bonnet. A clean white cotton square was gently pushed into her clenched fingers.

‘Dry your eyes, miss. You’ll not wish to have red eyes when we stop.’

Obediently she did so but the more she mopped the greater the fall. She gulped, trying to swallow her sobs, but the harder she tried the worse they became. Jane moved to her side and held her until the crying ceased.

‘There now, miss. Try and be strong. You will find a new life in London, no one will know you there, you can start afresh, put all this behind you.’

Marianne sat back, feeling drained but calmer. ‘I shall never forget, Jane. How can I? I seem to have lived a lifetime in a few weeks. I found a family and I fell in love. It took me only a few days to know that I had given my heart but it will take a lifetime to recover.’

She allowed Jane to adjust her bonnet and smooth out her travelling dress. ‘I shall never see Sir Theodore, or whoever he is, again. I know that, but he will always be with me. I have no desire to start again as you put it, I wish to find somewhere quiet and live there with you and John. If I cannot marry the man I love then I will marry no one.’

Jane removed to her position on the opposite side of the carriage. ‘You are only eighteen, miss; you have a lifetime ahead of you. I guarantee that in ten years you will have forgotten all this and be happily married to another, more suitable gentleman.’

Marianne didn’t answer but lapsed into silence. It was a relief to both of them when the carriage turned off the road to pull up in the yard of a busy coaching inn. Edward’s cheerful face appeared at the door.

‘I have done well, Marianne. They had just had a cancellation and we have taken the rooms, and private parlour, that were left vacant. Tom and Billy and the coachman and groom have accommodation above the stables; it is clean and comfortable, for I have checked.’

She forced herself to look suitably appreciative. ‘Thank you, Edward. I am so glad you decided to come with us.’

* * * *

The yard was bustling with ostlers, horses and several carriages like theirs. The mail coach had just pulled in and the occupants were climbing stiffly down to eat supper, relieve themselves and stretch their legs before having to climb back on board to resume their journey. They had but thirty minutes to accomplish all this.

Marianne saw none of it for she was too tired and dispirited to notice anything. She followed Edward inside and up the stairs to the three small rooms he had bespoken for the night. While she was oblivious to her surroundings, others also recently arrived were not so blind.

Two gentlemen, dressed to cut a dash, were dismounting from their own equipage and saw her hurried entrance. One, a well set-up gentleman of approximately three and thirty, his face swarthy but his features regular enough to be considered handsome, recognized her as she went in.

His hard grey eyes narrowed. ‘Did you see who that was, Hepworth? It was the Frasier chit. What is she doing here, I wonder, and dressed so fine I scarcely knew her?’

His crony stared blearily in the direction of the entrance. ‘No, you don’t say?’ The younger man, more than a little foxed, frowned as he tried to recall to whom his friend was referring. ‘Was that the girl you dangled after in Bath? The one what vanished, slipped between your fingers at the last moment?’

Sir James scowled. ‘I was made to look a fool. I do not forget that easily. I have a score to settle with the young lady. You see to the horses, Hepworth, and I will speak to the landlord and discover where we are to sleep tonight.’ He also intended to make a few discreet enquiries about Martha Frasier.

In her private parlour Marianne was unaware that evil stalked her. That rather than leaving her past behind her it was catching her up and was about to consume her in a way she had not thought possible.

Chapter Fifteen

The luggage cart left at dawn for Brook Street where Mr Sampson and his family resided. The intention was for the trunks to be there before Marianne arrived.

A night’s sleep had somewhat improved her temperament and she was more resigned to her third change of circumstances in as many months. She found herself able to gaze out of the window with considerable interest as they entered London proper. Edward had chosen to ride Sultan and was not inside with them.

‘There are so many people on the streets, Jane. I don’t believe I shall enjoy being here, it is so overcrowded.’

‘Well, miss, if Mr Sampson finds us a suitable country property, we will not have to live here long.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘I don’t like the smell; it’s sour and is making my eyes water.’

‘There are not many elegant people about. I suppose they are still in bed. It will only be tradesmen we are seeing.’

‘I expect society folk were up at a ball or card party until dawn. The season has not quite ended, I believe.’

‘I am glad that I am not a hopeful debutante for I should hate to be obliged to live here for several months and be forced to attend
soirees
, at homes and balls every night of the week.’ She smiled at Jane. ‘But I should like to attend an opera. I wonder if Madame Catalini or Mademoiselle Viotti are performing anywhere at the moment.’

‘As long as you don’t want me to accompany you—I could not abide to listen to lot of foreigners caterwauling.’ Jane grinned. ‘Mind you, if you visit the theatre that would be a different matter. I should dearly love to see a play by that Will Shakespeare or a comedy or farce.’

Discussing the various visits they could make made Marianne feel decidedly more optimistic. ‘I would like to go to Gunther’s for an ice and to the Tower to see the menagerie and maybe even to Vauxhall Gardens to watch the fireworks one evening.

The carriage rattled and bumped in snail like progress to arrive eventually outside a three-storey house in fashionable Brook Street. Marianne was impressed by the scrubbed white stone steps and shiny painted railings that fronted the property. Edward and the boys vanished through an archway at the side to find the stables.

The front door opened and two liveried footmen ran to open the carriage door and let down the steps. The butler and housekeeper appeared in the doorway to greet Marianne. She had had no notion that lawyers lived so well and in such an obviously prestigious area. She waited for Jane to disembark for with her abigail walking behind her she was less intimidated.

‘Good morning, Miss Devenish.’ She was surprised to be greeted by name by several servants as she was ushered into the hall. She was puzzled that there was so much ceremony from the staff but no sign of either her host or hostess.

The butler bowed. ‘Mr Sampson offers his sincere apologies but he is absent on pressing business this morning. Mrs Sampson is not receiving until later. Andrews, the housekeeper, will direct you to your apartment and take care of you if you would like to accompany her.’

Marianne nodded, resisting the impulse to curtsy to this august gentleman.

‘If you would come this way, Miss Devenish; Madam has put you at the rear of the house. Your chambers overlook the gardens and are quieter than the rooms at the front.’

Andrews led the way up the elegant curved staircase, newly carpeted and its banisters so well polished Marianne could see her hands reflected. They went up to the second floor, the first being reception rooms and private parlours. The housekeeper halted outside double doors. A footman opened them and bowed her through.

‘Oh, this is lovely and such a wonderful view—with those big windows it is almost like being outside,’ Marianne exclaimed, delighted by the generously proportioned sitting-room which was furnished with matching rosewood furniture and dark green hangings.

Andrews nodded. ‘The bedchamber is through the door to the left; you will find all the usual offices, a dressing-room, closets and a bathing room.’ The two neatly dressed chambermaids curtsied and waited for their instructions from Marianne.

‘This is splendid, thank you. What time do you expect Mrs Sampson to be available?’

‘Madame said she would send word when she is ready, Miss Devenish.’

The housekeeper left them to explore their new domain. ‘Jane, I shall leave you to direct the girls. I would like to bathe, if that is possible, and change from my travelling dress. By then my hostess might be down and I can make my curtsy.’

This was such a substantial establishment she had no fear Jane and John would not be well accommodated also. She had put their unusual requirements in the letter she had sent ahead to announce their coming. She wandered over to the windows and gazed at the gardens set out below. Then she heard children’s voices and a small group appeared accompanied by a bevy of attendants.

A hopeful family indeed! There were two toddlers in leading strings, obviously twins, but as the custom was to dress both boys and girls alike she could not to decide which sex they were.

An older boy, about seven years of age, in blue velveteen breeches and matching jacket, skipped along happily, a small wooden yacht held in his hand. The eldest child, a girl carrying a book under her arm, was dressed in blue calico and white pinafore and so reminded her of Eleanor that Marianne’s eyes filled.

They were happy children, presumably going to the nearest park to sail the boat. The two nursemaids were young and jolly. The older lady, obviously the governess, had a pleasant face, and in spite of advancing years, a sprightly step.

Marianne relaxed. She had made the right choice to come here. Happy children and contented staff indicated Mr and Mrs Sampson were kind and generous people. She smiled—she had been fortunate in her recent domiciles. This could have been so much worse. For Upton Manor and her home in Bath had been unhappy houses, dark and uncared for, her presence considered an unnecessary nuisance.

The taller of the two maids came in. Marianne smiled. ‘What is your name?’

The girl dipped and shyly returned her smile. ‘Annie, miss, if you please.’

‘Annie, what time is dinner served here?’

‘When the master returns, miss; it is any time between six of the clock and eight.’

‘That must make it hard for the kitchen, not knowing when dinner is to be served.’

‘Oh, Cook is used to it by now. The master always sends word he is on his way, then there is a fair scramble I can tell you. The mistress runs upstairs to dress and Cook bangs about in the kitchen getting all ready.’

Pleased she would not be obliged to stand about in her dinner gown for two hours waiting to be summoned, Marianne smiled. ‘Thank you, Annie. I shall endeavour to be on the premises by five and thirty every day.’

She selected an ensemble she had not worn before; a deep apricot muslin with an overdress of paler sarcenet. The only adornment was the matching ribbon threaded through her curls.

‘You look a picture, Miss Devenish. No one would guess you had a heavy heart.’

‘I am trying to put it out of my mind and think about the delights of visiting the sights of London. I might never have another chance.’

She left Jane supervising the unpacking and went in search of Mrs Sampson. The clock downstairs had stuck the hour—the time was past two o’clock. Surely her hostess was out of bed by now? She heard voices coming from a half open door on the first floor and followed the sound. She knocked and waited.

There was a rustle of skirts and the sound of hurrying feet and the door opened. The tall, slender, woman dressed in the height of fashion, clapped her hand to her mouth in horror.

‘Oh, my dear Miss Devenish, I had forgotten all about you—do come in. I have two dear friends come for a morning call. I shall introduce you straightaway.’

Marianne curtsied to a Mrs Stanmore and a Lady Ashton, both young matrons, dressed in the first stare. She was glad they would find no fault with her appearance.

‘Miss Devenish has come to stay with us for a few weeks. Mr Sampson is looking after her affairs—she is an orphan you know and a great heiress.’

Lady Ashton patted the seat next to her and Marianne went to join her. ‘Well, my dear Miss Devenish, you have arrived a little late to enjoy the season. But there are still one or two parties to come before it ends. I am sure I can obtain invitations for you.’

Marianne shook her head. ‘Thank you, Lady Ashton, that is so kind, but I have no wish to attend public parties.’ She smiled to soften her refusal. ‘But I am hoping to visit the opera and theatre and see the sights.’