The Chaperon Bride

‘I will!’ Annis said. She was afraid that she sounded sulky, but could not quite help herself. She was very afraid that all the things Adam was saying might be true. He put his hand on her arm.

‘But before you go, Lady Wycherley, just how odious do you think me?’

‘I…oh…’ Annis’s gaze fell before his searching look. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Ashwick. I meant that what you said was odious, and not that you yourself…’ She faltered. ‘That is, I thought it unkind in you to speak as you did.’

‘I see,’ Adam said. He gave her a crooked smile. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that you make a distinction.’ He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. ‘Good day, Lady Wycherley.’

Aware that her face was now as red as a setting sun, Annis scrambled up into her carriage with absolutely no decorum. She tried to ignore Adam’s hand outstretched to help her, but he outmanoeuvred her by the simple expedient of taking her elbow to help her up. He stood back and raised his hand in mocking farewell.

‘Drive on!’ Annis said crossly to the coachman, well aware that even as the coach turned the corner and Adam Ashwick was left behind, her palm still tingled with the imprint of his kiss.

Annis’s journey home that evening was uneventful, which was fortunate as she had plenty to think about. Whenever she tried to concentrate on the shocking dilapidation of Starbeck, she found herself thinking instead of Adam Ashwick, and not of the Adam from whom she had parted in a temper, but the one who had held her with such heart-shaking tenderness. She was out of all patience with herself by the time she reached Church Row and was glad to partake of a solitary supper. She had just finished the meal when there was a knock at the door.

‘Your cousin is here,’ Mrs Hardcastle announced, coming into the dining room and wiping her hands on her apron. The housekeeper had been with the Lafoy family for years and, when Annis had returned to England, had gladly accepted a post in her household. Her husband, who had died some ten years previously, had been the family’s coachman. These days Annis made do with a very small staff, of which Mrs Hardcastle was the undisputed matriarch. She was a tiny woman with bright dark eyes and a bosom encased in black that jutted like a shelf. It was unfortunate, Annis thought, that the bosom was what always drew the eye first. Plenty of gentlemen had been accused of ‘sauce’ for staring incredulously at Mrs Hardcastle’s figure, when in fact it was difficult to look elsewhere.

‘Powerful big bunch of flowers Mr Lafoy’s got with ’im,’ Mrs Hardcastle continued. She fixed Annis with a disapproving eye. ‘He ain’t come courting ’as he, Miss Annis?’

Annis put her book aside a little regretfully. She had been enjoying the peace. ‘I doubt it, Hardy. Charles does not appear interested in the Misses Crossley and he has never shown any urge to marry me!’

Mrs Hardcastle sniffed. ‘Well, I haven’t seen a bouquet so large since Mrs Arbuthnot’s funeral, Miss Annis. You bin reading books at the table again? T’ain’t good for you, you know. You need a bit of company.’

‘I like my own company,’ Annis said, getting to her feet. ‘Still, as Charles is here I suppose I had better see him. Please show him into the drawing-room, Hardy.’

When she went into the room, Charles was standing before the fireplace, a bunch of pink roses in one hand. He was fidgeting a little nervously with his neckcloth. When he saw Annis he looked simultaneously anxious and relieved, and came over to kiss her.

‘Annis? You are well? Benson rode over this afternoon and told me what had happened at the tollhouse.’

‘That was nice of him,’ Annis said composedly. ‘Are those flowers for me, Charles? How kind of you.’

‘They are from Mr Ingram,’ Charles said, holding the bouquet out to her a little awkwardly. ‘He was most distressed to hear what had happened.’

‘Please thank him from me.’ Annis laid the flowers on the sideboard. ‘It was an unpleasant experience, but I assure you I came to no harm.’

She sat down and, after a moment, Charles did the same, taking the chair opposite. He adopted such a concerned look that Annis was hard put to it not to laugh.

‘Truly, Charles, I am very well. Lord Ashwick arrived before too much harm was done. I fear your carriage has suffered a few dents, however.’

‘Never mind the carriage.’ Charles sat forward. ‘Ellis said that Ashwick had turned up. I suppose I should be grateful to him for rescuing you.’ He sounded both dubious and unwilling. ‘The trouble is that every time I hear of Ashwick’s involvement in one of these situations I am convinced he has stirred up the trouble in the first place!’

Annis raised her brows. ‘I think you may acquit him of that, Charles. He was nowhere near the tollhouse when the altercation broke out. It was a carter called Marchant and his companion who started to goad the workmen.’

‘Ellis told me,’ Charles said glumly. ‘Trouble is, Annis, there is more than one way of stirring rebellion. Ashwick’s brother is the rector of Eynhallow, you know, and preaches fierily against exploitation.’

Annis sighed. ‘If he is anything like Lord Ashwick, I imagine he is not subtle about it!’

Charles looked rather amused. ‘I say, Annis, what has Ashwick done to upset you?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Annis said quickly. She did not want to let her cousin know that it was Adam who had told her about Starbeck, for that did smack of making trouble. ‘I find him somewhat brusque, that is all.’

Charles looked amused. ‘I thought that you liked him.’

Annis gave him a straight stare. She was not about to admit to a partiality for Lord Ashwick, no matter that there was a grain of truth in Charles’ words. ‘Did you, Charles?’

Charles crossed his legs. ‘Do not seek to gammon me, Annis! At the theatre the two of you looked more than cosy together.’

‘As far as I am aware, Lord Ashwick is cosy with Miss Mardyn rather than anyone else.’ Annis shifted a little. She knew that she was turning a little pink. ‘Now, Charles, do not seek to distract me. I must speak with you about Starbeck.’

There was a knock and Mrs Hardcastle came in with a tray and two glasses of wine. She slapped it down on the sideboard.

‘There you are, Mr Lafoy. Get that inside you. My nephew’s best elderflower cordial, that is. Got yourself a wife yet, have you?’

She thrust a glass at Charles, who looked revolted for a second but manfully covered his lapse. ‘Thank you, Hardy. No, I fear I have not yet found a lady willing to take me on.’

‘You should ask your cousin to find you an heiress,’ Mrs Hardcastle said, with a grim nod at Annis. ‘Powerful good at settling these girls, Miss Annis is. Why, you should see her with these two little minxes we have now! As good as betrothed already, they are! Though why anyone would want to marry the elder girl—’

‘Thank you, Hardy,’ Annis said, a little desperately.

‘Vulgar, vulgar, vulgar!’ Mrs Hardcastle finished triumphantly. ‘Excuse me, miss. I have to finish up in the scullery this evening. There’s a mouse’s nest in there. Quite a plague there was this last winter.’

‘How on earth you cope with her I’ll never know,’ Charles said, as the door closed behind the housekeeper. ‘I know she has been worked for the family for years, but surely it is time to pension her off?’

‘Hardy would go into a decline if she were not busy all the time,’ Annis said. ‘She is like me in that respect, Charles. She would never forgive me if I told her we wanted to lose her services.’

‘Have you asked her?’ Charles enquired. ‘She might be grateful to hang up her apron.’ He took a sip of the wine and grimaced. ‘Ugh! This is too sweet for me.’

‘Pour it on the trailing ivy,’ Annis instructed, waving towards the impressive collection of greenery that decorated a corner of the room. ‘It thrives on the cordial! I have watered it often enough with mine.’

‘So you wished to speak of Starbeck,’ Charles said, when he had regained his seat. ‘How did you find it, Annis?’

Annis looked him in the eye. ‘It was shockingly bad, Charles. The roof leaks so much that one of the bedrooms has an impromptu indoor waterfall and the wood of the front door has swollen in the damp of the winter, then dried out in the summer and cracked across the frame. Several of the windows are broken and the place is infested with mice.’ Annis made a hopeless gesture. ‘And about it all is an air so tumbledown and neglected that I think it would take a fortune to put to rights. You know as well as I that I do not possess such a fortune.’

Charles was looking tired. He ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘I have tried, Annis. The money you have sent me has all been passed to Tom Shepard to spend on the upkeep of the home farm. There is simply not enough to go round.’

‘He told me.’ Annis passed her cousin a glass of brandy from the decanter. ‘He said that there were insufficient funds and that you had too little time to spend there.’

Charles flushed guiltily. ‘It is true that I have been very busy of late. My work for Ingram…’ He shrugged expressively.

‘Tom was telling me that there has been a poor harvest these two years past and a bad winter this year. People are barely surviving, Charles.’

Charles shifted, leaning forward. ‘Annis, I know you are opposed to selling, but for the sake of the estate you must consider it.’

Annis jumped to her feet. Her instinctive reaction was to refuse. ‘No!’ She swung around. ‘Charles, one of the reasons that Starbeck is in such a parlous state is that there has been no permanent tenant for over two years.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you tried—truly tried—to find one for me?’

There was a moment when her cousin looked her in the eye and she was convinced he was going to tell her the truth. Adam’s words rang in her ears: The reason that you have not had a permanent tenant at Starbeck for the past two years, Lady Wycherley, is that your cousin has deliberately avoided finding one. He wishes the house to fall down and for you to be unable to afford the repairs. That way Mr Ingram can step in…

Then Charles looked away and fidgeted with his empty brandy glass.

‘Annis…’ His tone was reasonable. ‘Of course I tried…’

‘I see.’ Annis felt a chill. ‘Yet you found no one.’

‘It is not all bad news,’ Charles said encouragingly. ‘Mr Ingram would be interested in buying Starbeck from you, Annis.’

Annis glared at him. ‘I am sure that he would, Charles.’

Charles got to his feet. ‘I must go. Please think about Ingram’s offer, Annis. It would solve your difficulties.’ He came across to kiss her cheek and it was only by an effort of will that Annis did not pull away.

‘Goodnight, Charles,’ she said tightly.

After her cousin had gone, Annis sat by the window and looked out over the twilit garden. She could not bear to sell Starbeck. It would be like selling a part of her independence. As for Charles, for all his denials, she did not trust him. It had all happened just as Adam Ashwick had predicted.

Annis found that she was looking across to the houses opposite, where the lights burned in the house Adam had taken. She wondered if he had returned to Harrogate that afternoon or whether he had stayed at Eynhallow. Then she wondered when she would see him again, and then wondered why she was wondering! Finally, in a burst of irritation, she twitched the curtains closed and went up to bed, to dream, blissfully, about being swept off her feet.

Chapter Four

Fanny and Lucy Crossley returned the following day, full of chatter and excitement about their stay with the Anstey family. There was a ball that night at the Granby, and on the following morning, Lucy vouchsafed that Lieutenant Norwood had suggested a carriage outing to the River Nidd at Howden.

‘It is not very far and should prove a pleasant trip for a summer day,’ she begged, when Annis expressed reservations about the plan. ‘Oh, please, Lady Wycherley, do let us go!’

Annis was torn. On the one hand she had seen the growing regard between Lucy and Barnaby Norwood and wished to encourage it, Mr Norwood being a most eligible young man. On the other hand, Lieutenant Norwood’s best friend was the dashing Lieutenant Greaves, and the last thing that Annis wanted was to throw Fanny and Greaves together. In the end, unable to resist the mixture of hope and pleading in Lucy’s eyes, Annis agreed, consoling herself with the thought that she would be able to keep a close eye on Fanny and that Sir Everard Doble was also to be one of their party. The young baronet arrived for the outing with a volume of poetry clasped under one arm and a boater with coloured ribbons adorning his head, and Lucy and Fanny were hard put to it to conceal their mirth.

Mindful of the heat of the day, Annis had discarded her evening blacks for a muslin gown in pale pink, with a straw hat with matching ribbons and a pale pink parasol. When she first appeared, Lucy’s eyes lit up like stars.

‘Why, Lady Wycherley, you look famously pretty!’

Fanny screwed up her hard little face. ‘You look too young to be our chaperon,’ she said disagreeably, and Annis, smiling widely, reflected that that was as close to a compliment as she was ever likely to get from Fanny.

It was a glorious day and the party was in high spirits as they set off. Lieutenants Norwood and Greaves kept up a flow of easy conversation with the girls, whilst Sir Everard sat reading his poetry and Annis looked out of the carriage window at the view. Howden was an attractive little village and there was a charming riverside path that ran along the bank under the dappled shadow of the willow trees. Fanny and Lucy chattered constantly, seemingly unimpressed by the natural beauty around them. Annis, having ensured that Fanny took Sir Everard’s arm rather than that of Lieutenant Greaves, was content to stroll along behind, enjoying the cool shade.

They reached a place where the bank opened out into a wide meadow. Lieutenant Greaves started to recite some poetry, in evident mockery of Sir Everard, who frowned at such levity and walked off on his own. The girls giggled. Annis turned away, irritated, and caught sight of a man standing beneath the weeping willows, gazing out across the water meadows to where the spire of a church cut the heat haze. At the sound of voices he turned impatiently and looked as though he was about to stride away. Then he checked. Annis, with a mixture of surprise and hastily repressed anticipation, recognised Adam Ashwick.

She hesitated. His stance was very much that of a person who wished to be left alone, but it seemed churlish to ignore him when it was obvious that they had recognised one another. After a moment she walked across to join him in the lee of the willows, and Adam sketched a slight bow.

‘How do you do, Lady Wycherley?’

Annis could not tell from his tone whether he was pleased to see her but she thought that probably he was not. She suspected that he was annoyed that she had brought a group of chattering youngsters to spoil the peace.

She tilted her parasol to shadow her eyes. The reflection off the water was blinding.

‘Good afternoon, Lord Ashwick. This is a beautiful spot.’

Adam Ashwick’s lips twisted into a smile. ‘It is indeed, Lady Wycherley. I often come her when I am looking for a little solitude.’

There was only one way to take that. Annis blushed and felt vexed, with him for his frankness and with herself for originally being pleased to see him when he so clearly wished to avoid company.

‘Then I beg your pardon for spoiling your retreat, sir.’

She made to walk away, but Adam put a hand on her arm. ‘Lady Wycherley. Forgive me, that was unconscionably clumsy of me. Will you not stay for a little?’

Annis hesitated. She had enough of an excuse to walk away if she wished, for Fanny and Lucy were now shrieking and running around in a most unladylike fashion. Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood were making impromptu boats from twigs and arranging a race down the river. Sir Everard stood a little apart, arms folded, looking disapproving. He had an unfortunate habit of looking down his nose, Annis thought. Even if he did not mean to appear superior, that was the effect it had. Within the light-hearted group he stood out like a sore thumb.

‘Please,’ Adam Ashwick said, persuasively, recalling her attention to him. ‘If there is anyone I would care to share the view with, it is you, ma’am.’

The blood fizzed beneath Annis’s skin as she blushed again under Adam’s appreciative scrutiny. ‘I am happy to rest a moment in the shade if I am not disturbing you, my lord,’ she temporised. ‘I may only be a moment, though.’

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