the Christmas Caper 4

 

 

IV on the road

 

“So, miss, why are you masquerading as a boy?” asked Jeremy, once they were on the open road.

“What gives you the right to leap to such conclusions and question me?” demanded Cecily.

“The right of doing you a favour, I should think, and getting you out of Bath as fast as this old rattletrap will go,” said Jeremy.  “What, you didn’t really think I was just a coachman dressed like this, did you?”

“Well, yes?” said Cecily. “I... I thought your clothes too fine for a common coachman, but you are wearing that neckcloth, which isn’t what a gentleman wears....”

“Apparently, my mother is right,” sighed Jeremy. “I only wear it to annoy her. And she demanded my services to drive her and her attendant nymphs.”

Cecily gave a gurgle of mirth.

“Not, I hope, clad as one sees them in classical illustrations,” she said.

“Thank goodness, no; the idea of her dresser in a whisp of muslin in strategic places would be too much to take,” said Jeremy. “Prudish, are you?”

“I was thinking that they’d take cold, actually,” said Cecily. “I can hear another team behind us.”

Jeremy looked round.

“You have acute ears,” he said. “Some scrub in a phaeton, and not my friend, Nicholas, either. I suspect someone who sees an old fashioned carriage and plans to ‘hunt the squirrel,’ or in other words, tip us in the ditch.

“Oh! Isn’t that illegal?” asked Cecily.

“Yes, but it doesn’t stop the so-called sport,” sneered Jeremy. “Fortunately, I am a competent whip, and I fancy the chub will get a surprise. I’ll be damned if I pull over and give him the advantage of the camber; he can come out round me on the wrong side of the road, and if I slow the nags slightly... yes, here he comes, hear the hoofs speed up, and that will put him on the inside of a curve to the right, and a phaeton is not the most stable of vehicles, and... here he comes, hold tight, he’s going to try to nudge a wheel... idiot. He should have waited for a bend in the road going the other way. I’m going to swerve so he misses, and then crowd him back.”

It was a consummate piece of driving, which Cecily appreciated as Jeremy suddenly speeded the horses with a shake of the reins, cracked his whip over the interloper’s four, as they started to draw level, and then drew his leaders over so that the heavier coach nudged the phaeton at the steepest point of the curve, and as they passed, it could be seen to be toppling inexorably. Jeremy wore a look of grim satisfaction.

“Hoist by his own petard,” said Cecily.

“Shakespeare has a saying for most things,” agreed Jeremy. “If he hadn’t tried to nudge us, I would just have let him go, but I object to those of us who account ourselves whips being tarred with the same brush as people like him, who think it funny to tip over people, without caring whether there are elderly, frail folks, or children within.”

“I am glad you are a good whip,” said Cecily. “But with moral scruples. I don’t think Lord Ashdowne has any moral scruples.”

“Him! He’s a loose fish,” said Jeremy. “Oh, I beg pardon, ought not to use such phrases in front of a girl. Is that why you’re dressed as a boy, trying to avoid him?”

“Yes, well, actually it’s worse than that,” said Cecily. “You see, he saw me and he wants me, and he bought up all of Papa’s gaming  IOUs, what they call ‘vowels,’ and told papa he would forgive them all if only I will go to spend a week with him to what he calls a ‘love nest’ and then...”

“Surely your father told him to be damned and mortgaged the house or something, rather than cave in to such an infamous demand?” asked Jeremy, incredulously.

“No! Mama and Papa said it was my d...duty to rescue them from a predicament, because it w...would not be for long, and that I c...could marry if I wanted and cut myself to look as if I bleed on my wedding night... and.... and how could I face a husband when I had been debauched?”

“You poor child!” said Jeremy. “Er, how old are you?”

“Nineteen,” said Cecily. “Not really a child.”

“You’re a child in that you’ve been thrown into the cold hard world without the proper parental support,” said Jeremy. “Also, not legal to wed without permission. Tell me, little girl, would your father take a loan to settle his debts and then eschew gaming?”

“No, and it wouldn’t stop him selling me if he could,” said Cecily. “And my name is Cecy, or Cecily. Cecily Dacres.”

“I feared not,” said Jeremy.  “I wondered whether to leave you with my aunt, and go back to help your parents, but if they are as foolish and venal as you think, it would be a waste of my time and my blunt. I’ll take you to my aunt, and we can plot from there. ”

“Thank you for even considering it, sir,” said Cecily, earnestly. “Your aunt will stare to see me clad so.”

“Devil a bit,” said Jeremy. “Used to be a famous courtesan; has worn breeches herself, to hold up a swain of hers to demand kisses as plunder. She’s lived life, has the old lady.”

“Oh!” said Cecily, unable to think of anything more coherent to say.

oOoOo

 

“Why Cheltenham?” asked Nicholas. “Family?”

“No; a position, of sorts,” said Beatrice, forlornly.

“That doesn’t sound very promising,” said Nicholas. “M’name’s Derwent; Nicholas Derwent, by the way, so you can address me if you want.”

Beatrice flushed.

“My name is Beatrice Lockwood,” she said.

“Now, that’s a lovely name and sounds like it ought to belong to a lady of one of Robin Hood’s merry men,” said Nicholas.

“You’re conflating Robert of Locksley, being Robin Hood’s possible real name, and Bettris, the lady of George, the Pinner of Wakefield,” said Beatrice, severely.

Nicholas brightened.

“An aficionada of the Robin Hood tales? By Jove, what luck! But of course, if you are a governess, you’d be learned.”

“I believe I am well-read,” said Beatrice, “But I cannot claim to be a bluestocking; there was enough in my trust fund to educate me to be a governess in the school I attended, but no more.”

“You’ve had a rough time of it, by the sound of it,” said Nicholas. “I ain’t much of a conversationalist, so why don’t you tell me about it, and get it off your chest, so to speak?”

Beatrice took a long, shuddering breath, which released as a cloud about her.

“I am afraid that if I once talk about it, I might dissolve into tears,” she said.

“Might do you the world of good,” said Nicholas. “But it might be a few miles on from that before I could procure you a cup of tea.”

“Oh! Well, they say a trouble shared is a trouble halved,” said Beatrice. “It isn’t, but it seems lighter if someone else knows.  I did not really resent having to teach, I was glad to have somewhere to go, and it was not onerous, not really, not until Amelia Spottiswode started.”

She explained about the spoilt girl, and about being accused of theft, with the hiding of a bracelet in her room.

“Mrs. Spenlowe believes that Amelia will settle down with the influence of nice girls, but she won’t; and the time will come when she demands the expulsion of girls who will not bow down to her demands, and I don’t believe for one moment that she would not accuse Mrs. Spenlowe of theft, as it has worked once in getting me fired.  I think we should have called in Bow Street on behalf of the school and let an officer find out what Amelia is like and warn her about laws of laying false witness,” said Beatrice.

“I agree with you.  Some officers are very limited, but as you had been there three years without a stain on your character, and are suddenly accused by some brat who has discipline problems, the stupidest Bow Street Runner would realise what was up.”

“Unless Amelia’s father bribed him.”

“I think your Mrs. Spenlowe would have grounds to threaten Bow Street with going to the newspaper for that,” said Nicholas. “In any event, a true lady should have stood by you. Spottiswode, eh? It’s a cit’s name. And if she’s like that, I expect her father is, too. I will put the word out to blackball him.”

“Thank you; that does make me feel better, if it can be done. He’s a horrid man with a big red face which goes purple if people gainsay him.”

“He’ll find out what it’s like to be gainsaid by those who count,” said Nicholas, grimly.

“I appreciate it. And yes, I do feel lighter to take up my position as minder of a pack of spoilt brats.”

“What’s this?”

“Mrs. Spenlowe felt she had to give me a congé, but I have the choice of a preceptress she let go who set up her own school and can’t keep junior mistresses, or a former pupil a little older than me who was self-indulgent and who cannot manage her children, which means they will be spoilt too,” said Beatrice. “I had decided that was the better option of two evils, since not being able to keep governesses usually also means feeding them badly and not paying them until lawsuits are threatened. At least Amy Fenchurch will be too indolent to take much notice.”

“You are not going there,” said Nicholas. “You’re coming with me to Aunt Frid, who may be in her second childhood, but she counts as a chaperone. And then, Beatrice of Sherwood, you can marry me, but don’t expect me to split a willow-wand at fifty paces with a longbow; I can take down a pigeon with a fowling piece, but archery, I have never tried.”

“You aren’t serious!” laughed Beatrice.

“Oh, but I am,” said Nicholas. “I want to marry someone I can have a sensible conversation with.”

“I am sure there are plenty....”

“Of vapid females who think they know what I’m talking about but actually do not? Yes, they come a penny a dozen. I like you, and I think you have spirit. And besides, when that Amelia is being shunned in town, wouldn’t you like to walk past her on my arm, and ignore her?”

“Yes, I would,” said Beatrice.

“Good girl! I thought you had spirit,” said Nicholas, approvingly. He removed his tie pin. “It’s not much of a betrothal token, but it will have to do; here, pin your shawl up with it,” he said.

“Mr. Derwent! Is that a diamond?”

“Yes, but it ain’t above three or four carats, I don’t like too showy a tie pin,” said Nicholas. “It’s brilliant cut, not rose cut, to show inside my cravat, but I’ll get you a proper sort of betrothal token when we have time.”

Beatrice was quite struck dumb for a moment.

“I want it bent into a ring to wear,” she said. “Unless it is of sentimental value that you do not want to lose it as a tie pin?”

“Lud, I’d expect you to keep it anyway. Are you sure? It’s not really set as a ring.”

“It’s a beautiful stone and sparkles the way you do,” said Beatrice, blushing.

“Now that’s real poetry, not the rubbish I write,” said Nicholas.

“In my experience, those who disparage their own poetry write better poetry than those who claim talent,” said Beatrice. “We will go through your poetry, if you like”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Nicholas, who never showed his poetry to anyone.

 

oOoOo

 

“All set for the open road, Tiger-Lily?” asked Simon. They were somewhat behind Nicholas, who had set off first, and Jeremy, but Simon did not mind.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. Havershall,” said Lily. “And I like your nick-name for me, it is not a way to diminish me, as Lily is.”

“How can a beautiful flower like a lily diminish you?” asked Simon.

“Oh, I was named for an aunt, to curry favour, but Elizabeth is the name of a queen or a princess, and to use it in full would give me too much consequence; but one cannot use the pet forms the lower orders use.  And that is nonsence, for in Miss Austen’s book, ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ Elizabeth Bennett is called ‘Lizzie’ by her sisters, and there is no question that they are ladies, however awful their mother may be.”

“Do you prefer ‘Lizzie?’ I cannot say I find it attractive,” said Simon.

“Oh! No, but it is a measure of how my parents think,” said Lily. “I like being a flower, and I like being your Tiger Lily. I wouldn’t mind being your mistress, if you were thinking about it.”

“Stap me! I was considering proposing to you, a woman who firmly goes and tells her bank manager how things are going to be is a ruby!” said Simon. “Like Susannah, in the Bible, her name means ‘A Lily,’ and she was a judge, which means she had to have had a clear head.”

“I do the household accounts, too, and I can do compound interest calculations,” said Lily.

“A definite jewel beyond price,” said Simon. “I say! Is that an accident ahead?”

“His phaeton is facing the same way as we’re going. If  he had been spun around, I doubt his team would have escaped unscathed,” said Lily. “So, he must have been on the wrong side of the road.”

“Overtaking carelessly,” said Simon, coming to a stop. “Hello! What happened?”

The young man was blond, with yellow curly moustaches, and Lily suppressed a giggle.

“He has a Pekinese up each nostril,” she murmured low enough that only Simon could hear.

“By Jove, yes,” murmured Simon.

The young man spoke up.

“That damned misbegotten coachman put me in the ditch!” he said. “He avoided me tipping him, and then he damn well barged me!” His comment was filled with far more qualifications and words Lily did not know.

Simon passed her the reins, and got down.

“Now, Mr. Whoever-you-are, you are going to apologise to the lady for swearing so foully in front of her,” he said.

The young man gave him to understand that he was no qualified choir boy, and saw no need to guard his further qualified tongue for some qualified female.

Simon hit him.

He went down. Simon waited for him to get up and bunch up his fists, and knocked him down again.

Then he heaved him up and knocked him down a third time.

Simon shook the young man until he was conscious.

“Now, listen cherub, and listen well,” he said. “I hit you the first time for your language in front of my fiancée. I hit you a second time for coming out with even worse language. And I hit you a third time for trying to tip my friend into the ditch when driving his mother’s carriage.  If I ever find you have been hunting the squirrel again, I will find you, and kill you. Do you understand?”

“Do you have any idea who I am?” managed the young man through a bloody mouth.

“Apart from being an idiot with two Pekineses up his nostrils? Not a clue,” said Simon. “But you ain’t the sort of fellow who associates with my set, so you don’t have the sort of position that I actually care about. You’re a damned skirter, sirrah, and I hope you get blisters walking to the next village. Have a nasty day.”

He got back into the curricle.

“You were splendid,” said Lily.

“I’m not an athlete like Jeremy is, but I show to advantage against people of that fellow’s stamp,” said Simon.

“Do you really want to marry me?”

“Oh yes!  You haven’t swooned at me hitting him, you thought I was splendid, and you understand compound interest,” said Simon.  “I may not be as well blunted as Jeremy and Nicky, but I do have a way with trading stocks and bonds, and I find finance fascinating.”

“So, would you advise me to leave my inheritance in the funds, or to use some to gamble on the ‘Change?” said Lily.

“My Tiger-Lily, if you let me play with half your money, and give my your opinions too, I wager we could double it by Easter,” said Simon.

“Do you know, I would like to grow it enough to visit Bath and cut my parents dead when they bring out Annabelle,” said Lily.

“What fun!” said Simon. “I’m sure we can manage to do that. In the meantime, we’ll spend Christmas with Frid, and listen to the scandalous things she got up to in her youth, and you shall help me write my novel about a fictional courtesan based on her.”

“It sounds delightful,” said Lily.