Lady Jane's Ribbons Read online

  He opened the front door then, and the noise, which had been continuing relentlessly throughout, seemed to suddenly leap in at them. Torchlight cast weird dancing shadows over the vestibule’s cool cream walls as he turned in the doorway, tapping his top hat onto his golden hair. ‘Have you heard Wellington’s latest bon mot?’ he inquired, raising his voice above the din. ‘It seems he was accosted in the street by some laborers, more of the queen’s own regiment of yahoos, who demanded that he doff his hat in salute to her. He duly obliged, saying that he wished all their wives would be like her.’

  Henry grinned, forgetting his annoyance at what had previously been pointed out to him in such unequivocal terms. ‘Wellington’s tongue can be as formidable as his sword; he’s quite irrepressible. Which is, of course, why I named my coach after him.’

  Lewis raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Come now, don’t tell little fiblings. You named it after the duke because your Aunt Derwent suggested it. Her reasons for such a suggestion remain a mystery, of course, which is probably just as well since there would be a certain lack of courtesy in inquiring.’

  Henry feigned shock. ‘Are you suggesting that my widowed aunt has a past, sir?’

  ‘I’m too much of a gentleman, and far too fond of the lady concerned, to hint at any such thing, but shall we just concede that it’s very likely she took full but discreet advantage of the freedom allowed by her status as widow? Good night, Henry.’

  ‘Good night, Lewis. I’m sorry our damsel in distress turned out to be a dragon in disguise.’

  ‘Ah, but what a splendid dragon, mm?’ Lewis stepped out into the riotous night, where the crowds continued their noise even though the queen had long since retreated from the top of Sir Matthew Wood’s porch.

  THREE

  Having committed the crime of muddling up the date of his sister’s return from Derwent Park, Henry was most careful the following morning not to commit the further sin of forgetting his promise to take her to her dressmaker, whose premises were most inconveniently situated in the city. He gave her his solemn word that they would set off at ten o’clock precisely.

  A little before the appointed time, Jane was ready and waiting for him in the vestibule, where the noise from the mob outside still continued unabated, as it had done all night. Her dark hair was dressed up beneath a high-crowned straw bonnet which was trimmed with lace and had sapphire-blue satin ribbons, and she wore a frilled white muslin pelisse and matching morning gown. Her blue reticule and parasol were looped over her wrist as she stood by the narrow window light beside the door, teasing on her gloves and gazing out at the turmoil in the street. It really was a disgraceful disturbance, and one she sincerely hoped would not continue for very much longer.

  Banners and flags were still being waved aloft, as were the peculiar green bags on poles she’d noticed the night before. The crowd was singing now, and South Audley Street rang with the new words which had been applied to a very old song, as if the king himself was singing it.

  Oh, dear, what can the matter be,

  Oh, dear, what can the matter be,

  Oh, dear, what can the matter be,

  Caroline’s come – lack-a-day!

  I hoped she’d have stayed, then I’d get a new spouse, and

  I mentioned my wish to my friends in the house, and

  They made her an offer of fifty bright thousand

  If she would keep out of the way!

  Jane raised an eyebrow. Fifty bright thousand? Could that really be how much the king and the government had offered the queen if she would remain on the Continent and renounce her rights? They must indeed be desperate to be rid of such an unseemly consort.

  Henry came down the stairs, looking very fashionable in a tight-waisted, full-skirted brown coat, baggy Cossack trousers gathered at the ankles, and a green-and-white-striped American cravat which had been starched so much that it looked positively rigid. ‘Good morning, sis, and how are you this fine, bright day?’

  ‘Still not pleased with you, brother mine.’

  ‘No, I somehow didn’t think you would be. I’m sorry about last night – at least, I’m sorry it went the way it did.’

  ‘Henry, I know you’ve always believed Lewis’s version of events, so I don’t think there’s any point in going into it all again, do you?’

  ‘It isn’t just that I believe what he says, Jane, it’s that I honestly think you were completely wrong.’ He put his hand momentarily to her cheek. ‘He wasn’t being unfaithful to you, I’m sure that he wasn’t.’

  She drew away. ‘He was.’

  ‘Jane….’

  ‘Please, Henry, I know that I’m right in this.’

  ‘How can you know? It’s mere intuition, and this time it’s playing you false.’

  She took a long breath and then met his gaze. ‘It isn’t intuition, Henry, it’s the evidence of my own ears.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I haven’t told anyone this before, I haven’t even mentioned it to Lewis, but Alicia came to see me. She told me she was Lewis’s mistress.’

  Henry stared at her. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘It’s true. So who am I to believe? Lewis with his protestations of innocence, when all the time he was seen everywhere with her? Or Alicia’s confession of guilt, again substantiated by the fact that she was seen everywhere with him? Given the situation at the time, and the fact neither of them have since bothered to hide the truth about their liaison, can you really wonder that it’s Alicia’s story which has the undeniable ring of truth as far as I’m concerned?’

  Henry shook his head. ‘No, I suppose not, but I’d like to know why Lewis proposed to you in the first place if Alicia was the apple of his eye all along.’

  ‘It was to please his dying father, who wanted to see him suitably married.’

  Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, I find that hard to swallow. Lewis isn’t a man to marry to please someone else, and his late father wasn’t a man to expect him to.’

  ‘Nevertheless, that’s what happened. You’re the only person I’ve ever told, Henry, so I don’t want it getting out. I’ve been trying to forget all about it, especially as I found Alicia’s visit deeply distressing and humiliating. The last thing I want is for it to get out all over Town.’

  ‘It won’t get out through me.’

  ‘You’re not even to bring the subject up with Lewis. I want it left.’

  ‘Then left it will be.’

  A sudden roar from the crowd made her look out again. The queen had appeared on the balcony, waving and smiling, and in the daylight her false black curls looked more dreadful than ever, especially as she wore too much rouge as well.

  Henry gazed at her and sighed. ‘What a sight she is, almost as comical as the king himself. They deserve each other.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘Still, I understand she’s soon removing to Portland Place, which should leave us in peace again.’

  ‘Good. Henry, just what are those funny green bags?’

  ‘Ah, so there has been some news which has failed to filter through to Cheshire!’

  ‘Blanche was more concerned with your sins than anything else.’

  ‘I’m a misunderstood angel. Now then, the green bags have appeared because in his efforts to rid himself of his queen, the king has produced a real green bag containing documents giving salacious details of her, er, extramarital indiscretions. Needless to say, the bag has become the target of every caricaturist and lampoonist in Town, and has made the king the object of much derision, since a similar bag of his scandals would need to be a positive sack!’

  Jane had to smile. ‘He really does rather ask for it at times, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He always did, right from those early days when as Prince of Wales he fell for the charms of Mrs Robinson, the actress. All those silly letters which were published, from Prince Florizel to Perdita!’ Henry chuckled.

  She glanced a little slyly at him. �
��Perhaps I should see to it that my letters are published in future.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Come on, Henry Derwent, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about. My letter from Derwent Park did reach you, didn’t it?’

  He shifted uncomfortably. ‘No.’

  ‘Henry’

  ‘Oh, all right, yes it did.’

  ‘And you forgot all about it?’

  ‘To be perfectly honest, I hardly glanced at it. I was just about to go out.’

  ‘To the Fleece and the Iron Duke, no doubt.’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘You really will have to improve, you know. This isn’t good enough.’

  ‘It was a simple mistake, Jane,’ he protested.

  ‘One of a multitude. If you’d read my letter properly, your memory would have been jogged about the ball tonight. As it is, I’m here to remind you, but what if for some reason I’d had to stay on in Cheshire? Would you have remembered? I’ll warrant you haven’t any plan to see Blanche this morning or this afternoon, have you?’

  He took a long breath and shook his head sheepishly. ‘No, I haven’t. But I would have remembered, Jane, truly I would. I love Blanche very much indeed.’

  ‘I know you do, which is why I can’t understand how empty-headed you can be where she’s concerned.’

  ‘Lewis gave me a lecture last night, Jane; I don’t fancy another one.’

  ‘I won’t say any more if you promise, on your honor, to be good from now on. You mustn’t put coaching before Blanche, and you mustn’t allow that wretch the Duke of Dursley to worm his insidious way into her affections.’

  ‘Blanche wouldn’t even look at him,’ he declared a little too airily for Jane’s liking.

  ‘Henry! Are you paying proper attention?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’d better be, or so help me I’ll wring your handsome neck for you!’

  ‘You, Lady Jane Derwent, are a positive tyrant.’

  ‘With you around, I need to be.’

  ‘Well, we’ve kicked my private life around for long enough, let’s turn our attention to yours.’

  ‘I’d prefer not to. Besides, there’s nothing to discuss.’

  ‘There’s Charles Moncarm, Marquis of Bourton.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Charles? Why should we discuss him?’

  ‘Because he’s about to ask you to marry him again.’

  ‘I wish he wouldn’t.’

  ‘Because you don’t love him?’

  ‘I’m very fond of him, but I regard him more as a brother than anything else.’

  ‘His feelings for you aren’t brotherly, I can promise you that.’ Henry studied her for a moment. ‘It’s still Lewis, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for that, your feelings for Charles would be considered strong enough for marriage.’

  She could feel her cheeks reddening. ‘No, Henry, it isn’t Lewis, and no, I don’t feel enough for Charles to marry him.’

  ‘I can read you like a book at times, Jane. All right, maybe I’m wrong about Charles, but I’m damned right about Lewis.’

  ‘I don’t wish to discuss it.’

  ‘Six months of Cheshire don’t appear to have done the proverbial trick, do they?’

  ‘I don’t require six months anywhere,’ she replied with more than a little bravado. ‘I need only think of that demimondaine Alicia Brantingham to be perfectly cured of any misguided affection I may have felt for that lord.’

  ‘Demimondaine? That’s a little strong, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, since she’s married to the Duke of Brantingham, who for some reason best known to himself refuses to divorce her, and since Lewis is merely the latest in a line of her lovers, I can’t think of a better way to describe her, can you?’

  ‘I admit that she’s been a little indiscreet….’

  ‘A little? What would you consider a lot, Henry?’ She held his gaze challengingly. ‘Would you still wish to marry Blanche if you knew she was another man’s mistress?’

  ‘Eh?’ He gave a quick laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I wouldn’t!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It must be obvious to you why not.’

  ‘Then why was I expected to marry Lewis when all the time he was granting his favors elsewhere?’

  ‘Ah, but that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? I still don’t think he was doing any such thing, in spite of Alicia’s claim to the contrary.’

  She raised an eyebrow and then pretended to suddenly see something out of the window. ‘Good heavens, what was that? Why, I do believe it was a pig with wings! Yes, indeed it was.’

  ‘All right, you don’t have to resort to sarcasm, you’ve made your point, even if you’re quite wrong.’ He smiled, touching her cheek with his fingertips. ‘I’m so very sorry that it didn’t work out between you and Lewis, sis.’

  ‘So am I,’ she whispered.

  At that moment, the sound of hooves came from the street and Jane looked out to see the phaeton being brought to the door, the horses already sweating and nervous because of the continuous uproar. She looked at it in dismay. ‘Oh, no, not the phaeton! Do we have to negotiate the streets of London in that wretched thing? Why can’t we go in the town carriage?’

  ‘Because the phaeton’s good practice for me.’

  ‘You don’t really mean to go on with this challenge to Mr Chapman, do you?’

  ‘I told you last night—’

  ‘I was hoping that in the cold light of day you’d see a little sense.’

  ‘The Iron Duke’s going to run the Nonpareil off the road, and that’s why I must have all the practice I can if I’m to take the ribbons myself on Midsummer Day. It’s only three weeks away, you know.’

  ‘I wish you would forget all about it.’

  ‘Never.’

  With a sigh, she gathered her skirts and went to the door, which the ever-vigilant Melville immediately hastened to open. The noise and clamor was almost deafening as she emerged into the warm June sunshine. Henry assisted her up onto the perilously high seat and then climbed up beside her, taking the reins. The queen had retired from the balcony, so they didn’t have to acknowledge her in any way, for which Jane was very grateful, since such salutes would have meant still more riotous cheering from the mob, with the consequent alarming effect upon the unfortunate horses.

  The phaeton moved forward very slowly, the team inching its way reluctantly through the crush. Jane gripped the side of her seat in readiness, knowing that the moment it was possible, Henry would spring the light vehicle forward at a reckless pace. She was right; his whip cracked and the team lunged forward, setting off down the street as if the hounds of hell were behind them. Jane hung on tightly, alarmed at the wild acceleration, and wishing with all her heart that she’d insisted they take the town carriage!

  Driving along Piccadilly shortly afterward, the team were still uneasy from the crowd, proving a handful even for Henry, so that to her relief he had to take them along at a more sensible speed. As always, the conspicuous phaeton attracted a great deal of attention, and she felt horridly on show, perched up as she was almost on a level with the outsiders on the stagecoaches.

  When they reached the city, he didn’t drive directly to Madame Louise’s, but took a rather circuitous route by way of narrow, steep Snow Hill. She was immediately suspicious, for it was in Snow Hill that the famous Black Horse coaching inn stood. The Black Horse was owned by Henry’s bitter rival, Edward Chapman, and it was from here that the crack Nonpareil stagecoach operated.

  FOUR

  Jane’s suspicions were well founded, for as they neared the entrance of the inn, Henry maneuvered the phaeton in to the curb and took out his fob watch. ‘Henry? What are you up to?’ she demanded.

  ‘Just wait, and you’ll see.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be going to my dressmaker!’

  ‘And so you shall, in just a moment. It won’t take long; the Nonpareil’s always on time, to the very second.’
r />   She looked quickly at the inn. It was a large building, its roof adorned with an immense carved wooden statue of a black horse. The entrance giving on to the crowded, busy courtyard was guarded by similar statues, and the same black horse design could be seen on every one of Chapman’s well-known scarlet coaches, thirty or more of which operated from this inn alone. He had other inns, all of them thriving, and all of them operating his famous coaches, but the Black Horse in Snow Hill was his headquarters, and had justifiably earned its reputation as one of the finest inns in London.

  Glancing again at the set of her brother’s chin, she became a little alarmed. ‘Henry, can’t we please drive on?’

  ‘There’s a little matter I have to take care of first.’

  ‘What little matter? Oh, Henry, don’t do anything foolish! Mr Chapman isn’t a man to tangle with!’

  ‘I know what I’m doing, sis. Ah, here we go.’ The sound of a coaching horn echoed from the inn’s yard, the unmistakable notes of ‘Cherry Ripe.’ Henry touched the phaeton’s leaders with his whip and they moved slowly forward, held in check by a very tight rein as he inched the high, unstable vehicle slowly toward the entrance of the inn.

  Jane held her breath, not knowing quite what to expect, but her heart almost stopped as she saw the splendid Nonpareil bearing down upon her, its panels gleaming and its coachman, the famous George Sewell, very natty indeed in a blue coat and white top hat, a fresh nosegay pinned to his lapel. Beside him was a young blood who had paid well over the odds for the privilege of this coveted place, no doubt hoping for a chance to take the ribbons himself on the open road. The coach started to emerge from the entrance into the steep, narrow street, the four outside passengers bowing their heads to pass beneath the archway. The guard began to give another spirited rendition of ‘Cherry Ripe,’ but the notes died on a horrified choke as Henry abruptly placed his phaeton squarely in the coach’s path, making the cursing, startled coachman rein in very sharply indeed in order to avoid a collision. The outsiders cried out in alarm, thinking their end had come, and Jane closed her eyes tightly, for the Nonpareil’s leaders were rearing up a little too closely for comfort.