Madhouse Bride 9

 

Chapter 9

 

Denver opened the letter with the Paris frank, and he and Wilcox read it together.

 

“Dear Aunt Amelia and Uncle Thomas,

Well, here I am in Paris, the City of Light itself! The war is over and people are cautiously picking up the pieces. 

You will be pleased to know that Mr. Tremaine, Ravenscar’s man of affairs, is very efficient. He provided me with a duenna, a Mrs. Felicity Fellowes, whose husband was an Englishman, living in Switzerland, but as he has died, Mrs. Fellowes is happy to return to England with me in her charge. We had some little trouble with some brigands on the way from Switzerland and into France, but Mr. Tremaine and Mrs. Fellowes shot them all. It was prodigious exciting, and Mrs. Fellowes is teaching me to shoot, and to use a sword. How liberating that will be! I shall be in England soon, and Mr. Tremaine intimates that Ravenscar has arranged somewhere for me to live temporarily.”

Your niece, Anne.”

 

“She’s hinting,” said Wilcox.  “The wretched girl spoke of the Plantagenets and family betrayal in the first letter, now she’s talking about shooting brigands. She means us.”

“Where is she, do you think?” demanded Denver, shrilly. “I am sure she has been here. But how could she be here and in Switzerland?”

“I think she has been here, and hiding, but there have been no more incidents with mice for a few days,” said Wilcox. “I don’t believe she ever was in Switzerland,” he added. “I think she had Ravenscar send someone to mail them, to get the right franks on the letter. I suspect she’s with Ravenscar right now.”

“Pack us both overnight bags,” said Denver. “And find that letter from Clement as proof that she should be confined. We’ll go get her back.”

“Yes, sir, I think that would be advisable,” said Wilcox.

He would regret leaving Amelia, who had proved remarkably willing for an ageing dowager, but she would be even more willing when he returned, especially as there was time to give her a very intimate farewell whilst supposedly packing bags.

 

Jem, hearing this, frowned.

There was no way that Denver could insist on searching Ravenscar’s seat, but he might think to take a Bow Street Runner. Julian was the magistrate, who could refuse to offer any kind of warrant against himself, but Denver was the sort who might cause trouble.

Jem slipped out of the house, and to the boarding house where he had left his own clothes, and thence to the livery stables to the horse he had for his own use in case of such emergencies.

He would get to Raven House well ahead of Denver and Wilcox, to apprise his lordship and Miss Anne of these developments.

Drat the man, Denver was supposed to be sagging from the weight of the loss from the West Indies shares.

Well, that could not be helped.

 

Jem fell in the door at Raven House.

“Jem?” said Julian.

“He hasn’t taken the ruddy shares to his broker, so he thinks he’s rich, and he is on his way to demand Miss Anne be confined,” said Jem, succinctly. “I am an hour or so ahead of him, I think, maybe a little more. I set up two coaches to be prepared in case you want to take her to the border?”

“The hell!” said Julian. “It would be safe enough to sit tight – the fellow has no right to invade my privacy – but he could make a nasty stink if he went to the papers. I’ll ask Anne what she wants to do.  Good job your Meggie is a good needlewoman, between them they have some decent winter dresses for Anne.” He pulled a rueful face. “A shame I don’t have that yacht Anne invented for me in her letters; we could have made for the coast and sailed to Scotland far quicker. Though I am tempted to keep on for Scotland from York on the East coast rather than heading for Gretna.  The weather is likely to be worse in the west.”

Jem nodded; the worst winter weather tended to come from the west. November was opening with cloudy weather, but it was not too cold as yet.

Julian knocked on the nursery door, and went in to Anne’s invitation. She was sewing on a dark green cape which had been Julian’s mother’s; he had turned over all her clothes to Anne to use as she might, having never cleared out his mother’s room. 

“Julian?” Anne sounded half afraid. “You look very serious.”

“Sweet Anne, your uncle is on his way,” said Julian. “We have an hour to get on the road to Scotland, if you wish it. Or, we can sit tight because he has no right to barge into my home.”

“But we shall have to go out to get married, and he will invoke the just cause and impediment of me not being in my right mind to agree,” said Anne.

“Hellfire! Oh, I beg your pardon.”

“I was thinking much the same,” said Anne. “Julian, I have packed every costume Meggie and I have made, in expectation of fleeing. I can be ready as soon as I have made myself comfortable and put on a pelisse. Meggie is also packed.”

“You are jewels amongst women,” said Julian. He went to his own room to find Jem packing for him.

“Just about ready, my lord,” said Jem. “I have my own clothes. Robbie will drive one of the coaches, will you drive the other?”

“Yes,” said Julian. “That way Anne and Meggie need not feel constrained to use the utensil in the coach.”

“It’s been dry five days on the trot, we should get well on,” said Jem. “I could sit up front with you if you wanted.”

“You keep Robbie company,” said Julian. “I’m wondering if we need two coaches.”

“You’ll be glad of a spare if we don’t take them,” said Jem. “Accidents happen. And Robbie’s loading two spare wheels and axles on the top of the second coach along with tools accordingly, in an old imperial he uses to store such things, and spare shoes and nails too, and the farrier’s kit. And he’s putting the other imperial up to store yours and Miss’s valises and band-boxes.  My ma is packing a hamper of eats for us all, and if you’re done, I can hear Miss and Meggie on the stair.”

Robbie and the chief coachman, Joseph, had brought the coaches round. Mrs. Watkins brought out a hamper of food, and a pair of footmen brought out a barrel.

“It’s good well-water in case you don’t trust the water in inns,” said Mrs. Watkins. “And here’s a sad-iron to iron the sheets with, and Abram Thomas, the head gardener, has donated his charcoal brazier, and a tin tray to put it on, so you can make a cup of tea in the coach, or if they don’t boil the water properly in inns. And some extra charcoal for it.”

“Why, that’s extremely generous of Mr. Thomas,” said Anne. “I pray he will not miss it while we are away?”

“Bless you, miss, I’ll see he gets his cuppa just as he likes it – strong enough to stand a spoon in, and almost black with three spoons of sugar,” said Mrs. Watkins.

“Oh, I am glad,” said Anne. A chest with a tea kettle, tea caddy, and tin mugs went into the second coach as well, and a pile of extra blankets.

“You never know what the weather in Scotland will do,” said Mrs. Watkins. “And a good tarpaulin as well; I raised my Jem to be capable of dealing with anything, his father, rest his soul, being batman to his old lordship and us following the gun.”

“I thought he seemed a man of resource and sagacity,” said Anne.

“You’ve won her heart,” murmured Julian. “My father fell at Corunna, with Jem’s father, fighting side by side, but he left Mrs. W with enough money to see Jem home.”

“No wonder you are close,” said Anne, ready tears starting to her eyes. Impulsively she embraced Mrs. Watkins.”

“There, now, Miss Anne, my sweetie, you get going and confound that evil Basket of an uncle,” said Mrs. Watkins.

“Joseph, you don’t have to come,” said Julian, eyeing his ageing coachman dubiously as he stood prepared. 

“I’m a-coming, my lord, and my things packed and ready; you’ll want two up if it turns cold to keep each other awake,” said Joseph. “And you might need an extra man if there’s a scrap at all, and I ain’t about to turn down an adventure; shouldn’t wonder if I’d be too old to enjoy it in a few years’ time so I might as well enjoy it while I might.  And we’ve extra oats and bran for the nags, and honey for medicine, and the boy has ridden ahead with another team to St. Neots, and will hire another team for the other coach. All being well, he’ll take on the other teams as they can go faster without the carriage.”

‘The boy’ was Joseph junior, Joseph’s son, who liked nothing more than being allowed to take horses on to way-points to be changes of teams. Without the heavy carriage to pull, they could go sufficiently fast as to give them time to rest and be relatively fresh for changing in. If they spent the night in Huntingdon, as seemed likely, Joey would take the tired team on at a very early hour, likely to Peterborough, but without the encumbrance of the carriage.  It meant that a stage could be stretched just a bit. This first day would be a long leg; but Denver would be driving out of London, and would have taken his team a good twenty miles already to Julian’s seat, a drive of two and a half hours even with a good team.

Julian climbed up beside Joseph, after helping Anne and Meggie into the coach, and Jem climbed up beside Robbie.

A gentle click of the tongue was enough to see the horses on their way, and they were off, not much more than a half an hour after Jem had fallen in the door. Julian reflected that having a well-trained staff who also knew how to use their initiative was invaluable.

“We’ll be going after sunset, Joseph,” he said.

“Aye; I brought several blankets and tucked in the boot,” said Joseph. “Maybe we might stop for a cuppa and warm a brick for us and for the lads on the way, my lord?”

“We’ll stop for a hot meal and to rest the nags in Biggleswade,” said Julian.  “There’s a choice of inns.  The Sun is the premier coaching inn, so I think we’ll go to the Spread Eagle.”

“Ar.” Joseph made a noise of agreement.

Doubtless the master had long since planned a route with Cary’s roads and Oulton’s Itinerary, to know which was best. His lordship was a planner, and meticulous, and he would have contingency plans, too.  It made him easy to serve; he never asked too much, or expected more of a man than he could give. And he was careful of his servants’ comforts. They got on the road, and Joseph silently passed his master a beef sandwich and a bottle of beer.

“Ah, well provisioned for the journey,” said Julian, not refusing either.

“Stand to reason, like hosses, a man well-vittled goes better,” said Joseph. “There’s a hot brick in that there rug if you needs it, my lord.”

“I won’t say no; I have boots for show rather than warmth, though I threw a pair of brogues into my luggage,” said Julian.

“The ladies have a hot brick and quilts,” said Joseph, answering the unspoken question.

“I’m a lucky man to have such good servants to care for my bride and me,” said Julian.

Joseph smiled.

People did as people got, in his own idiom, and all his lordship’s people would fall over backwards for him.

 

oOoOo

 

Thomas Denver and Wilcox went to Bow Street, and paid up front for an officer to accompany them to fetch back a wayward and troubled girl, believed to be living in sin with the Viscount Ravenscar.

“I hopes you ain’t makin’ a big mistake, squire,” said Officer Amos Peabody. “Troublesome things, toffs are. And we need to see the magistrate there afore making demands.”

“Yes, yes, and we can find out who the magistrate is, when we get there,” said Denver. He was glad he would be inside the coach with Wilcox; the Bow Street Officer could ride on the box with his coachman.

Officer Peabody accepted this philosophically.

“What’s the real story, then?” he asked the coachman.

The coachman, one Sam Stubbins, shrugged.

“The way I understand it, there was a niece with money, who seemed a nice, gentle girl, but suddenly she’s a lunatic and violent, and packed off to a madhouse,” he said. “Now, there’s all brouhaha about her being betrothed by her father, when he was alive, that is, to this yere viscount, ʼoo wants ʼer produced, which is this yere hideous corpus thing, which you people know more about than me, only she don’t appear to be at the madhouse no more, nor anywhere else, seemingly, as himself had the footmen poking pitchforks into the hay in the hayloft lookin’ for her, or her ghost. I ain’t superstitious, but there’s someat wrong in that house.”

“As clear as mud,” said Peabody. “But is she insane, or not?”

Sam considered.

“She’s either insane, or she isn’t,” he said.

“A lot of help you are,” said Peabody.

“Well, it depends whether you think she was druv crazy or not, don’t it?” said Sam. “Or mebbe it didn’t take.”

“Oho! Like that, is it?” said Peabody.

“I don’t know nothin’” said Sam. “More’n me job’s worth.”

He clammed up.

Peabody thought it was very interesting.

Still, a couple of days chasing around after a girl who might or might not be insane, and who would probably be protected by a toff anyway was vastly superior to rounding up gangs of violent criminals, including the vast number of soldiers, now superfluous to requirement, and trained to use firearms. With the Corn Laws and other social inequalities, and discontent with armed bands, being paid a guinea a day for doing very little was a nice little holiday.