Madhouse Bride 15

 sorry to be late; Simon had a fit of the muse last night, and I wanted to encourage him!  moreover, we'd got the study warm and there was thick frost out and upstairs was perishing cold.

 

Chapter 15

 

Monday started fair, but dissolved into misty rain as they journeyed on. The horses were fresh, however, and Julian had every expectation that they would manage the forty odd miles into York.

Anne was much heartened for having rested for several days and was more than happy to go on. She and Lucy were already fast friends. They sang together as the coach bowled over the road towards York, and Julian smiled as their harmonious voices filtered through the connecting hatch.

“Ladies be in good heart,” said Joseph.

“Indeed, and they had need with a long day on the road,” said Julian. “It’ll eight hours with the stops for the nags, and that only if there are no accidents to hold us up where the road to the west peels off. It has, if I recall correctly, a sharp slope down to the Great North Road, and some fools take it too fast.”

This had been discovered by Denver and Wilcox the day before, when they had peeled off, not expecting their quarry to go into York.  They had happened upon an accident which, though not fatal, was slow to clear, a young sportsman having overtaken a heavy wagon of barrels only to find himself into the traffic of the Great North Road before being able to pull back in and had lost his curricle to the hoofs of an oncoming mailcoach, slewing him completely round. The brewer’s dray, having braked too hard to avoid the sportsman, overturned as it tried to overtake the horses, and the traffic had ground to a halt for fully four hours whilst everything was sorted out. Denver and Wilcox had been forced to put up at Peckfield, hardly any distance onto the westward road, calling perdition upon those who had caused the accident.

The dray should not have been delivering on a Sunday, of course, but a man behind his schedule does what he can; and finds that short cuts make long delays.  Julian noted that there was debris, and was glad not to have had to witness an accident.

It may be noted that of any barrels of ale, beer, porter or other alcoholic beverage which rolled past the sight of the dray driver, when he righted and reloaded his dray, all had since vanished as if by magic, by the means locals tend to manage when free booze is in the offing. The small barrel of brandy might have vanished into the boot of the mailcoach whilst the coachman was remonstrating and the guards removing obstacles.

A small barrel in the road was, after all, an obstacle.

None of this was known to Julian, of course, any more than to Denver and Wilcox, who had long left Peckfield when Julian passed the turnoff towards it. From hereon it was plain sailing into York, if a tedious distance. And the weather cleared up to be a very fine day, with a touch of warmth in the sun, even.

Julian was much heartened. It was pleasant to drive under a warm sun, and he hoped it would last.

 

With Lucy’s instructions, and the help of a watchman, Julian soon found the direction of Lucy’s aunt, and tooled up to the door.

The butler was intimidating.

“Please inform Lady Corbythwaite that her niece is here on an extended visit, having travelled in the chaperonage of my wife, Lady Ravenscar,” said Julian.

“Yes, my lord; will you and your lady and miss come within?” said the butler, thawing at Julian’s undoubtable upper class accent and title.

The vestibule was panelled, with a black and white tiled floor, and looked, thought Anne, as if it had come out of a seventeenth century Dutch painting.

Presently, the butler returned.

“Her ladyship will see you now,” he said.

He led the way to a salon, decked out with blue Chinese silk embroidered with bright flowers, after the manner of the previous century.  Lucy immediately ran to the austere lady sat on a high-backed chair, and flung herself to her knees to bury her face in her lap.

“Goodness, child! Anyone would think the woes of the world driven by the devil incarnate were at your back,” said Lady Corbythwaite, her hand rubbing circles on Lucy’s back belying the harsh words.

“I fancy, to Miss Denleigh, it comes to the same thing,” said Julian, calmly. “We came upon two young chubs and a broken curricle who appear to have been trying to help Miss Denleigh escape from being pushed into marriage by her parents, and Mis Denleigh, driving another curricle, fleeing to try to reach the haven of your doors.”

“Well, that’s as clear as mud; I had a Sir Arthur Fossingdean here yesterday, believing Lucy to be ahead of him,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “He seemed a pleasant enough young man, and plainly besotted with Lucy; I was wondering what the problem was.”

“Saddlebacks!” Lucy wailed into her lap.

Lady Corbythwaite drew a pair of lorgnettes to regard her niece.

“Addled by driving at speed, no doubt,” she said.

“I understand Sir Arthur, being inarticulate in his ability to profess his profound regard for Miss Denleigh, instead delivered himself of a lecture about hogs,” said Julian, amused. “And whilst it is important for a lady to enter into the interests of her prospective husband, hogs are not the most romantic subject with which to excite the regard.”

“Hmmph,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “In other words, he made a bumblebroth of it; but a man who can put bacon on the table is a better man to marry than one of fine sentiments and no ability to provide.”

“Lady Ravenscar said much the same,” said Lucy, from her muffled position.

Lady Corbythwaite raised her lorgnettes to Anne.

“Well! I wouldn’t have expected such sense from a girl as pretty as you, but I’m pleased and impressed.  I heard nothing of a marriage of Ravenscar.”

“My father arranged a betrothal,” said Anne.

“And to be honest, we’re a bit premature, since Anne has a wicked uncle who is trying to get hold of her inheritance, by painting her deranged, and we are heading for the border to prevent him and his paid doctor declaring any just cause and impediment. Once married, any consideration for her mental state becomes my responsibility.”

“Bless my soul!” said Lady Corbythwaite. She pulled the bell.

The butler came in.

“Madam?” he said.

“Run immediately to Sir Arthur’s hotel, and tell him that he is on no account to leave town. He may court Miss Lucy on her terms under my auspices and without interference from my daffy-pated sister and her cretin,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “And pray, what has you in whoops, Lucy?” she added as the butler bowed his way out.

“Your very accurate description of my parents,” said Lucy. “But more, the concept of poor Jeeby having to run.”

“It’ll do him good,” said Lady Corbythwaite.

“Well, then!” said Julian. “Anne and I will seek lodgings for the night and bid you farewell, and, I trust, a better understanding with Sir Arthur.”

“Certainly not; you will stay overnight,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “Drat that man, he’s already at an errand,” she added, ringing the bell with jangled gloomily. 

A middle-aged woman came in.

“I’m sorry, my lady, I can’t find Jeeby,” she said.

“I sent him on an errand,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “Lord and Lady Ravenscar are staying overnight; send the boy to show their carriages to the mews and their servants into the house, and see to having a pair of rooms warmed for them, and one for my niece, Lucy, and if my sister and whassisname turn up, they can go to a hotel.”

“Very good, my lady,” said the housekeeper.

“You’re not fond of your brother-in-law,” said Anne.

“He was a young fool when he was courting Daisy – Margaret by rights, but I always called her Daisy – and he’s an old fool now to think a high-spirited girl will put up with an arranged marriage without more courting than a load of husbandry. I learned to love my Corby’s – that’s Corbythwaite’s – lands well enough, and to raise his boy by his first marriage to love the land too, and he runs it now and lets me use the house in York for my lifetime, as long as I keep a room for him. But Corby never talked once about sheep until he was sure my affections were engaged. My! And what a fine tup he was,” she added, staring into the distance.

Anne, very firmly, did not look at Julian. She was afraid it would prove too much for her equanimity, and it would not be polite to laugh.

 

At dinner, Lady Corbythwaite turned her steely gaze on Julian.

“I understand you are planning to go to Scotland to wed?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, and we became caught up with your niece on the way, and could scarcely leave her stranded,” said Julian.

“Well! It ain’t everyone who would be so kindly, so unless you want to drive all the way, I might be able to help you,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “It’s a day’s drive to Flamborough Head, but part  of my widow’s portion is my husband’s fishing fleet, and I dare say any one of my captains would divert for you, for a small fee.”

“Now, that would be a welcome boost,” said Julian.

“You can leave your second coach in my mews, and the coachmen too, if you want; though you’ll doubtless want one to be waiting for you when you sail back into port,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “The boats are all named for being corbies – crows, you know.  Seacrow, Stormcrow, Wavecrow, Thundercrow, Windcrow, and Foamcrow.”

“Oh!” cried Anne, “How fortunate if ‘Stormcrow’ is available, for it is what the servants call Julian if he is in a bad mood.”

“I’ll write a letter to Captain Higgs, then,” said Lady Corbythwaite.

“And you must feel free to use my carriage, and the services of Joseph, whom I shall leave here,” said Julian. “Robbie can wait in Flamborough.”

“It’s about forty miles; you shouldn’t have any trouble,” said Lady Corbythwaite. “You’d be fiddle-faddling about on the road another four days to get into Scotland, and the same back, you’ll be back by boat in two days. Plus the day each way to the coast. Half the time, and less tiring. Good. And by the time you’re back, if all is well, that idiot pig farmer will have his promise ring on Lucy’s finger,  unless he’s a total clunch. And he didn’t seem to be a total clunch when I spoke to him.”

“We both wish them good luck,” said Anne, gravely.

 

oOoOo

 

Denver was busy asking after a blond man and a dark young woman on the road to the west; and having nobody remembering them, nor Ravenscar’s distinctive crest, he came to a decision.

“They’ve tried to confuse us by going through York,” he said. “We’ll have to go back there.

Wilcox sighed.

“Oh, well, I suppose there’s no helping it,” he said.

They turned round, and drove back towards York, staying in the same inn they had stopped at on the way down the western road.

 

oOoOo

 

Sir Arthur was coming calling, with exotic flowers from a forcing house, as Julian and Anne were leaving in the morning. He was a slender man saved from looking like a well-bred sheep by having an acquiline nose.

“My dear fellow! Best of luck,” said Julian. “Anne, my wife, you know, has been hearing all about you from Miss Denleigh, and I fancy she’d like you very well if you manage not to be a walking advertisement for the virtues of Saddleback porkers.”

Sir Arthur blushed.

“I don’t get tonguetied talking about husbandry,” he said.

“You’re an idiot,” said Julian. “Ask her about her avocations, and make intelligent comments and sound as if you are interested. Take the girl sketching if that’s something she does, and ask if she takes it into embroidery or any other craft. Then you won’t have to talk at all, and you can revisit the saddlebacks in telling her how sweet the piglings are and ask if she would rather have a kitten or a puppy.”

“Thank you!” said Sir Arthur, earnestly. “Well, Ravenscar should know; you have a reputation. All behind you now you’re wed?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Julian. “Best of luck!”

“Thank you!” said Sir Arthur.

“I’m not sure he’s any older on the inside than either of her puppies of swains,” giggled Anne as they set off.

“No man in love is truly much out of his teens when it comes to confidence in addressing his beloved,” said Julian. “Some of us have learned to hide it better, though.”

“Really, you were nervous?” asked Anne.

“Tremendously,” said Julian. “I met a splendid and intrepid girl, and I was tipsy at the time and terrified I’d ruined my chances.”

“Never!” said Anne. “You appeared out of the gloom like an angel ready to whisk me away in a chariot, if not of fire, at least of… of rescue.”

“Ah, it was fated,” said Julian.  “I want to kiss you, but we have to maintain propriety with Meggie and Jem.”

“No we don’t,” said Anne. “Not if we give them leave to bill and coo when we are.”

“What a good idea,” said Julian. “Permission extended.” He drew Anne into his arms to kiss her.

Such a pleasant pastime could not account for all the drive east, but the young couples enjoyed a number of interludes as they came into Flamborough, that pretty village, and could see both the old, octagonal lighthouse built in the seventeenth century from local chalk, and the new edifice that was only ten years old. Most of the village was built with the local chalk and thatched, with a few modern brick buildings. The cries of the seabirds was almost deafening! 

Julian went in search of Captain Higgs amongst the fishing craft, and soon found him.

Higgs laboriously read the letter from his lady, and spat onto the sound.

“If you and yours can be on my boat inside half an hour, we can go on the tide tonight,” he said.

“Splendid,” said Julian. He negotiated a price, and he, Anne, Jem, and Meggie embarked on the ‘Stormcrow’.

The cabin was basic; but Higgs swore they would be in Scotland for breakfast. With their own quilts, the two young couples made themselves snug, with bread and cheese purchased by Jem at the local inn.