Runaway Bride Read online

  ‘Frolic!’ she caught her breath, then rallied at the mere injustice of it. ‘I am happy you think it no more.’

  ‘I trust, ma’am,’ he looked at her, gravely, ‘that it is no less. But, I repeat, I await your explanation.’

  ‘It is mighty good of you to do so,’ she flared out at him. ‘And if it fails to satisfy you, do you propose to deliver me once more to the mob?’

  He took snuff, meditatively. ‘Your confidence in me is most flattering! But what, indeed, am I to do with you? You can hardly have the effrontery to suppose that I shall send you back, thus garbed, to Laverstoke House, whence, I am informed, you vanished, under mysterious circumstances, yesterday.’

  She swallowed fury. ‘You are well informed, sir.’

  ‘I make a point of being so. You will find it best to tell me the truth. It may be that there is a respectable explanation of the presence of a young gentlewoman—in man’s attire—however becoming,’ she was aware, in the erratic light, that he sketched a mocking half bow, ‘in Parliament Square at night, but what it may be I am yet to learn.’ He paused.

  ‘And if I refuse to explain?’

  ‘I shall drive you to Piccadilly and set you down there. Then you and your horse can shift for yourselves. But, come, Miss Fairbank, recollect yourself and quit fencing with me. I promise you, if you need one, I will stand your friend. Indeed, I will go farther and cry your pardon for anything I may have said to offend you. Almost I begin to think I may have misjudged you and that there is more to this than some foolish woman’s wager, as I had imagined.’

  ‘A woman’s wager?’

  ‘My dear Miss Fairbank,’ he leaned out of the window for a moment to give an order to the coachman, then turned his full attention upon her again and continued, ‘your pose as a meek little governess would not do for a moment. You betrayed yourself every hour of the day. Only a rattle-pate like Lady Laverstoke would have been deceived by it for an instant. But it seemed a harmless enough deception, and no question but that the children were profiting under your care. So, I thought best to let it continue.’

  ‘It was mighty handsome of you, sir,’ she was playing for time now. How much should she tell him? How much dare she conceal?

  ‘I am yet to learn whether it was good of me or not. But, enough of this temporising. Come, Miss Fairbank, your story. I have told the coachman to drive through the park. By then, we must have decided what is to be done with you.’

  Surprisingly, this calm assumption of authority came as an immeasurable relief. Why not tell him the whole? Or almost the whole. Some things she could not bear to speak of. ‘If I tell you,’ she began, ‘may I ask two things?’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘That you will be satisfied without names or places. You are right, of course, in thinking that my name is not Fairbank, but for the time being I prefer to be known by no other.’

  ‘Granted. And the other request?’

  ‘Your promise of secrecy, Lord Mainwaring.’

  ‘You are pleased to insult me, Miss Fairbank.’

  She had got him, at last, on the raw, and wished she had not. It was all too much. She burst into tears. ‘Indeed, I had no such intention and must beg your pardon. I have not been used to be treated with such consideration. But let me tell you the whole.’ In fact, she could not bring herself to do so, and her ruthlessly abridged version sounded improbable enough, even to her own ears. Would he believe her?...And so, naming no names, she told him her story. At the end she paused.

  But his voice now held something like respect. ‘And so you are come to London, with a few guineas, a string of pearls, a suit of your brother’s clothes, and a horse.’

  ‘Yes, that I fear is the sum of my resources. But it is only until Lu—until my friend shall return to town.’

  ‘Granted. But what are we to do with you until then?’

  Again she derived extraordinary comfort from his use of the small word ‘we’. Suddenly the responsibility for herself which she seemed to have shouldered for so long had been taken from her. This short-tempered, black-browed lord she had disliked so often was going to take care of her. She sighed a long sigh and leaned more easily back in her corner of the carriage.

  He was silent for a few minutes, deep in thought. At last, he leaned forward and gave another order to the coachman. Then he turned to her. ‘Nothing for it,’ he said, ‘you will have to go to my grandmother’s.’

  ‘Your grandmother? Like this?’

  He laughed. ‘A little late in the day to play the prude. But trust me, my grandmother has seen stranger sights than you present. I will tell her it was for a wager. She will believe me, or not, as she chooses, and you, at your leisure, may tell her as much—or as little—of the truth as you wish.’

  ‘But will she take me in?’

  ‘If I ask her to. And, for some reason, I find myself inclined to believe your Arabian Tale. But no more running away, mind. There has been enough of that already for three volumes folio.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she found herself suddenly fighting sleep. ‘Indeed...I have no wish...to run away...’ Her head sank back against the squab and she plunged into the deep, silent sleep of exhaustion, hardly stirring when the carriage drew up noisily outside the Duchess of Lewes’s house in Grosvenor Square.

  ‘So much the better,’ said Mainwaring to himself and, as a footman opened the carriage door, he picked up the sleeping figure and remarking ‘my young friend is not well’, carried her indoors and straight upstairs to his grandmother’s boudoir where he knew that at this time of night she would be drinking warm wine and water and writing in the diary that so terrified her contemporaries.

  ‘George!’ she looked up with pleased surprise from her writing desk. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. But what frolic is this?’

  For he had put his burden carefully down on a sofa, where Jennifer stirred, put a hand to her head, then curled up, turned her head away from the light, and fell asleep again.

  ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’ went on the old lady, reaching for her hand bell. ‘Is this the place for your drinking companions to sleep off their excesses?’

  His hand went out to the bell, restraining hers. ‘No drinking companion. Take a closer look, ma’am.’

  Her curiosity stirred, she rose heavily from her brocaded chair and waddled across the room to look down at Jennifer. ‘Shame on you, George, ’tis a girl. What devilry is this?’

  He laughed. ‘You suspect the worst, as always, ma’am. But I assure you, for once, I am innocence itself. I find myself remarkably cast in the role of protector of virtue.’

  ‘Virtue?’ the old lady snorted. ‘I never heard of virtue masquerading in greatcoat and breeches. I may be old, George, but I am not yet shatterbrained. I’ll not have your bit of muslin foisted off on me. And a redhead, too, I know what that means.’

  ‘And so you should, ma’am, having been toasted through the town as the queen of them all.’

  An instinctive hand went up to settle the flaming red wig in its place. ‘Ah, George, you were always a flatterer. You can twist me round your finger, as once your grandfather did. Well then, tell me the whole story of this romantic piece of virtue and we will contrive some better place for her than my sofa.’

  ‘Alas, ma’am, the whole story is precisely what I may not tell you. I have promised my heroine that she shall herself tell you as much, or as little, as she pleases.’

  ‘Mighty handsome of you. And in the meantime, I collect, I am to take her on trust.’

  ‘On my word of her innocence, ma’am. Indeed, she has been much misused and you would oblige me vastly if you would give her shelter for a few days. I could tell you that her strange attire was the result of a foolish girl’s wager. No,’ he saw that the old lady had brightened at this comprehensible explanation, ‘I said I could tell you, not that I would. But it will do well enough for Marsham, will it not?’

  ‘Admirably.’ The Duchess smiled a pleased, reminiscent smile. ‘I recollect
once I wagered Fox I’d pass for a Member in the House...but that was long ago, and I was married, George. These frolics do well enough when one has a husband behind one. Lord,’ a horrid thought struck her, ‘that reminds me. What of the heiress—what was her name? Miss Purchas? She knows nothing of this, I trust.’

  He laughed. ‘No, ma’am. I am not, alas, as yet on such terms with Miss Purchas. Indeed there has been some delay on her uncle’s part that I do not readily understand, and we are yet to meet. This is an added reason why I should be plaguily grateful if you would take Miss Fairbank off my hands. You will find her a charming, spirited girl, I promise you, but a trifle too much of the heroine for my liking.’ He rose to take his leave, but his grandmother halted him with an imperious gesture.

  ‘Come, George, am I to know no more than that she is Miss Fairbank with romantic delusions? Do you really believe I will take her in on such slight information?’

  He smiled at her lovingly. ‘Dear ma’am, I am sure of it, since I see your curiosity is aroused. How can you satisfy it but by giving Miss Fairbank shelter? I promise you, you will not regret it. You know you have ever been a gambler. Gamble this once for me, and I warrant Miss Fairbank will repay you richly. You have often complained of your monotonous existence, alone in this great house. You will not find life monotonous with Miss Fairbank as your guest. The first time I met her, she had taken my hunter, Lightning, without so much as a by-your-leave and ridden him to hounds. And tonight—I think I can tell you this much—I came on her alone, on horseback, dressed as you see, in the midst of a riot in Old Palace Yard.’

  ‘A complete heroine!’ The old lady smiled. ‘Well, George, I see I shall have to oblige you, as usual. If I had spoiled your father as I do you, perhaps we should have ended better friends. And that reminds me, we have still to condole with each other. They were both drunk, I take it?’

  ‘By what I can learn. And arguing about which of them should drive. My father won. At least he was killed instantly when the carriage overturned. Poor Henry lived long enough to know he was dying.’

  ‘Losing it all. Yes, poor Henry. He counted so on being a duke. I’m sorry, George, I never could like him. I cried, not enough to make my rouge run, for your father. I have no tears for Henry. But, you, George, you’re the only one now. You must marry. For my sake?’

  He had never heard that pleading note from her before and it moved him as his father’s and brother’s deaths had failed to do. ‘I mean to, ma’am. I ride to Sussex tomorrow. Since Miss Purchas’s uncle does nothing but fob me off with promises and postponements, I propose to go there and press my suit in person.’ Involuntarily, as he spoke, his eyes travelled to the sofa where Jennifer lay asleep, a pale cheek pillowed on her hand.

  Her eyes followed his, then returned, to give him a shrewd look. ‘Wisely decided. A heroine is no helpmeet for a political man. And Miss Purchas’s connection in the county should prove invaluable. I only hope she can cure you of this radical folly of yours. For I warn you, I have heard many attacks on you and your wild friends these last few weeks. Only yesterday Mr Tierney came here expressly to warn me you were like to lose the confidence of all the wiser heads if you do not look about you.’

  ‘Never fear for that,’ he took her hand. ‘I stand before you a man converted. I have seen enough, tonight, of Hunt and his oratory to cure me of such fancies once and for all. It is not by mob rule that we shall cure the country’s ills. But I have talked enough. God bless you, ma’am, and take care of my heroine.’ He raised the beringed old hand to his lips, cast one more glance at Jennifer, and left the room.

  Alone, the old lady sat for a few minutes, chin in hand, gazing thoughtfully at Jennifer, then, with a sigh, she rang her bell. Her maid, Marsham, answered it so speedily that it was obvious she had been waiting outside.

  ‘Listening again, Marsham?’ said her mistress tranquilly. ‘Then you will be aware that we have a visitor. Fetch me a nightgown and négligé of Miss Jane’s and some more wine and water and—Marsham—before we wake her, let it be well understood, Miss Fairbank is my good friend, and Lord Mainwaring’s.’

  Marsham curtseyed. ‘La, ma’am, no need to make heavy weather of it. I knows a lady when I sees one, even if she has chosen to dress herself somewhat oddly. If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times we would be the better of some young life about the house, but you never would fancy one of Miss Jane’s girls.’

  ‘No, Marsham, and well you know why. Hymn singing and family prayers in this house is what I never would abide. At least Miss Fairbank does not seem like to trouble us with them. Riot and mayhem seem more probable with her for guest. But hurry, Marsham, your commissions; she begins to stir.’

  Waking at last, Jennifer looked confusedly around her. She was in a large room lit by a profusion of wax candles in candelabra that glittered in their light and that of a roaring fire. Beside it, in a brocaded chair that suggested a throne, sat an old lady in a flaming red wig, heavily powdered and rouged and dressed in a puce sarsenet gown of the style of the early years of the century.

  ‘Well, child.’ She had a surprisingly deep and beautiful voice. ‘You have slept long enough. Now we must talk. Yes,’ she saw Jennifer’s puzzled glance search the room, ‘Lord Mainwaring is gone. He had business to attend to and left you in my charge. I am his grandmother, as perhaps he may have told you.’

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ Jennifer struggled to her feet and made a somewhat dizzy curtsy. ‘I am most infinitely obliged to your grace for giving me shelter.’

  ‘Fiddlestick, child, you are not obliged to me at all—and for mercy’s sake sit down again. As for my sheltering you, thank Lord Mainwaring’s commendation for that, or, to be plain with you, thank my curiosity which was ever my besetting sin and longs to be satisfied as to what brought you here in this bizarre costume. Not but what,’ she lifted her lorgnette and studied her blushing guest appraisingly, ‘it becomes you vastly well. It was a more exacting costume I had to assume when I made my celebrated appearance in the House of Commons.’ She laughed at Jennifer’s puzzled expression. ‘But enough of that for tonight. Here, if I mistake not, comes Marsham with your wine and water. Drink it up, like a good child, and she shall show you to your chamber. Tomorrow will be time enough for talk. Marsham, the blue room for Miss Fairbank. Goodnight, child, and pleasant dreams.’ And the old lady turned once more to her writing desk.

  Parrying Marsham’s questions with as much sleepy courtesy as she could muster, and thus, unknowingly, confirming the maid her enemy, Jennifer stripped off her borrowed clothes and settled with a sigh of relief in the soft bed that awaited her. Tomorrow would indeed be time enough for talk and even for thought...

  Waking late, she lay for a while considering her new circumstances and listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the London street. Carriages rattled by; under her window a woman cried ‘Oranges, ripe oranges’; footsteps passed and repassed; scraps of conversation floated up to her. She was bone tired and would gladly have lain there all day had not Marsham appeared and, with a somewhat sour expression, offered her a blue silk négligé and told her the Duchess awaited her company for breakfast in her boudoir.

  So, over toast and chocolate, she faced the sharp old eyes again. They looked her up and down. ‘Blue becomes you,’ were the old lady’s first words, ‘as it never did me. Pinks and reds were ever my colours after I had summoned up the courage to wear them. But, for you, it must be blues and greens. I think I shall enjoy this morning’s work. We are going shopping,’ she explained to the puzzled girl, ‘you can hardly propose to appear as my dame de compagnie in a cravat and a pair of trousers.’

  Jennifer, who had never used a less modest word than the current ‘inexpressibles’ found herself absurdly blushing.

  ‘Ha,’ laughed the old lady, ‘so you are a mere miss for all your adventures. There’s life in me yet if I can shock George’s heroine. Well, is it a match? Will you come shopping with me?’

  ‘With the greatest of pleasure. On
ly,’ the blush was stronger than ever, ‘only I have no money nor am like to have till I come of age.’

  ‘Which cannot be soon, I collect. But no matter for that. If it makes you easier, you shall promise to pay me then. I do not propose to die these many years yet, I find life much too entertaining. But you will be thinking me in my dotage already if I run on so, when it is you who should be telling me your whole romantic history. Mainwaring was discretion itself, he merely told me how he found you in the midst of a riot in Old Parliament Square, and left me to die of curiosity as best I might. You, I am sure, will be kinder to an old lady who has few pleasures left in life but gossip, dress and drink.’ She rang her bell. ‘Marsham, send for more chocolate and then go, if you please, to Miss Jane’s wardrobe in the red room and look me out a walking dress that shall not shame Miss Fairbank. There,’ she went on when Marsham had flounced out of the room, ‘Marsham always listens if she has the opportunity, but now you are safe for this half-hour or more, if I remember Jane’s closet aright. Much as she would like to, Marsham will not dare disobey me outright. So, come, your story, Scheherazade.’

  So Jennifer told her story, again omitting names and places. The duchess nodded approvingly when she explained this. ‘Quite right,’ she said, ‘quite right. You are a girl of spirit and it shall be respected. Miss Fairbank you shall remain so long as you wish it.’

  She listened intently to the story, put in a question here, a sympathetic exclamation there and finally leaned back in her chair with a sigh of pure pleasure. ‘George is right,’ she said, ‘you are indeed a heroine. It will be a pleasure to have you as my guest. I only hope your friend does not return too speedily from burying her uncle, the nameless baronet. You see how faithfully I propose to keep my word; it would, you must realise, be child’s play to penetrate your secret. There cannot be many baronets dead these last few weeks, nor, I apprehend, do all of them have nieces with romantic young friends. But never fear, I have promised to respect your secret and shall do so, if you will but defer to my liking for pretty clothes. Ah, here is Marsham. Help Miss Fairbank dress, Marsham, and order the carriage to be ready in half an hour. We are going shopping.’