06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection) (3 page)

“Perhaps I could speak to a lawyer on young Jarvis’s behalf,” Lord Corbury suggested.

“And how will you pay him?” Fenella enquired.

Lord Corbury made an impatient exclamation and walked towards the window.

“I must say, Periquine, I think you have grown very old,” a soft voice said behind him.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

“We used to do some daring things together,” Fenella answered. “Do you remember when we stole all the prize peaches from the Lord Lieutenant’s green-house because his gardener was so offensive to all the poorer people who entered for the Flower Show and made certain they never had a chance of winning anything? We ate some of the peaches and threw the rest in the lake. No-one ever discovered who the thieves were.”

“We were young then,” Lord Corbury said.

“And another time you took your father’s horses without his knowledge and we drove to a Mill on the Downs. It was one of the most wonderful days I have ever spent in my whole life, Periquine. Do you remember how exciting it was?”

“It was indeed,” he answered. “Thirty-eight rounds and both bruisers so exhausted at the end they could hardly strike at each other.”

“We drove the horses home,” Fenella said, “and because old Sam the groom was fond of us he never gave us away. I remember when your father asked what we had been doing, you said we had been fishing. At least you were not afraid in those days.”

“Damn you, I am not afraid! But stealing is just not the sort of thing a gentleman does.”

“It is not much use being a gentleman with only pride in your pocket,” Fenella said.

“It is the only thing left for me,” Lord Corbury said bitterly.

“Well, it will not get you very far with Hetty,” Fenella said. “It is not only Sir Virgil who is ambitious.”

Lord Corbury turned round angrily from the window.

“You will not say anything against Hetty. She is perfect! The most beautiful, the most wonderful, the most adorable creature on whom any man has ever set eyes. I have known a lot of women since I have been away, Fenella, but there has never been anyone as beautiful as Hetty.”

“Yes she is very — beautiful,” Fenella agreed with a little sigh on the words.

“You would not be bad-looking, Fenella, if you took a little more trouble with yourself,” Lord Corbury said with the critical familiarity of a brother. “Why do you not get yourself a new gown and take more trouble over your hair.”

“A new gown!” Fenella laughed. “You seem to have forgotten my condition is very much the same as yours.”

“I am quite certain your father is not bankrupt,” Lord Corbury retorted.

“Oh, he is not bankrupt,” Fenella answered, “but he has no money to spend on frills and furbelows for his daughter. He is intent at the moment on buying a first edition of Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. Three months ago it was a first edition of Francis Bacon and the month before that a very expensive volume of Alexander Pope.”

“But if you are eighteen, surely your mother wants you to meet people and go out into society.”

“Mama!”

Fenella threw up her hands.

“You have been away a long time, Periquine. You know Mama is only interested in her garden. She is buying some special lilies from China. The Azaleas which arrived last week from India cost an absolute fortune. Papa and Mama still behave as they did when I was a child - as if I did not exist. When they remember I am there, they send me on an errand.”

“Poor Fenella, it was always the same, was it not?” Lord Corbury said.

He moved beside her, put his arm round her shoulder and gave her an affectionate hug.

“Well, we seem to be in the same plight!” he said. “Which, if you think about it, is nothing new.”

“We used to manage to have some fun all the same,” Fenella said softly.

“We will have some more in the future,” Lord Corbury promised.

There was a silence while he was still holding Fenella close against him.

“Mrs. Buckle has not had any wages for nine months,” Fenella said quietly, “and she told me to ask you for something with which to pay the trades-people. Since the gamekeepers all left, there have not been any rabbits or pigeons off the estate, although of course you can go out and shoot some.”

“If I can afford the cartridges,” Lord Corbury said bitterly.

He released Fenella and then stood staring down at her.

 “How much risk is there in taking this money you were talking about?” he asked.

Fenella gave a little cry of delight.

“You will do it? Oh, Periquine, I knew you would! Even if there is not a penny over for yourself, you will be able to help Joe and Simon, and perhaps there will be enough to pay Mrs. Buckle and old Headstone, the butcher. He told me to tell you he would be deeply obliged for even a little towards his account.”

“Curse you, it is crazy!” Lord Corbury said. “But it does not appear as if I have much alternative. Is there anything in the house left to sell, Fenella?”

“Not unless you sell the beds,” she said, “and they will not fetch much. The hangings are all moth-eaten and every blanket is full of holes, as I found when I helped Mrs. Buckle make your bed.”

“You knew I was coming?” Lord Corbury asked sharply.

“I knew you would come soon after Mr. Swayer had seen you. He came down last week and had a look round.”

Lord Corbury was silent for a moment, and then he said,

 “Well if I have to be hanged, I may as well make it worth their while. When do we start on this crazy robbery of yours?”

“Isaac Goldstein went away to-day,” Fenella answered. “That means that he is very unlikely to return before the day after tomorrow. It would be safest if we went tomorrow.”

“You had it all planned out for me, did you not?” Lord Corbury said accusingly.

“No, I swear to you I only thought of it at this moment,” Fenella answered. “And you know quite well I did not expect you home quite so soon, or I should not have had to hide in the Priest’s Hole when Hetty arrived.”

Lord Corbury looked at her searchingly to see if she was telling the truth.

“If I thought this was one of your plots to get me into trouble, Fenella -” he began.

“No, Periquine, no!” she interrupted. “You know I do not wish you to get into trouble. That anyway is a most unfair thing to say, because in the past half the time I took the blame for your misdeeds. What about when your cricket-ball went through the Church window? You would not own up because you said your father would have you flogged at Eton for it.”

“Good Lord, what a memory you have!” Lord Corbury said. “That was years ago.”

“I have not forgotten anything,” Fenella said, “and I have been hoping that when you came back it would be just like old times.”

“At least in those days I had a father who paid for things,” Lord Corbury said. “Now I have to find the money myself.”

“And you will find it — I know you will!” Fenella cried enthusiastically. “You have always been clever, Periquine, you always had a quick brain. Look how well you did at school! And the Duke of Wellington said you were one of the best Captains he ever had under his command.”

“Fat lot of use it is now!” Lord Corbury said disagreeably.

“I think you are being unduly despondent,” Fenella said. “You will think of something brilliant sooner or later. Meanwhile let us collect a little money. You could call it a — fund for — Hetty if you — like.”

She spoke the last words hesitatingly and she saw Lord Corbury’s eyes light up.

“That is a good ideas Fenella,” he said. “I will collect money somehow, even by the most nefarious means, and when I have enough I can go to Sir Virgil and ask him for Hetty’s hand. It will not seem so reprehensible if I am doing it so that I can marry her.”

“No of course it will not,” Fenella agreed, “and you do — love her — very very — much — do you not?”

“You know I do,” Lord Corbury said. “And if it means I can marry her, I swear to you, Fenella, I shall not quibble at robbing the Bank of England!”

“Then you must indeed — love her,” Fenella said in a very small voice.

Chapter Two

Lord Corbury, sitting in front of the fire with a glass of wine in his hand, heard a noise at the window. He turned his head to see Fenella clambering through the casement.

“Why do you not come in at the door?” he enquired, only to perceive the answer to his question as she came towards him.

She was wearing pantaloons and a tightly buttoned jacket. With her slim figure she looked very much like a small boy.

“Good heavens!” Lord Corbury ejaculated.

“They are yours,” Fenella explained. “You wore them last when you were at Eton.”

She laughed and added “Do not look so shocked! You must realise that long skirts are not conducive to climbing through the fan-light of the door, which is what I shall have to do.”

“Well I only hope no one sees you,” Lord Corbury said.

He made no effort to rise but lay back in his chair, and Fenella knew by the expression on his face that he was feeling depressed.

“What has happened?” she asked as she reached his side. “Did Hetty not come this afternoon?”

“She came,” Lord Corbury replied.

“And she has upset you?”

“She made me feel how impossible it is for me ever to contemplate marrying her,” Lord Corbury said sourly.

 “What did she say?” Fenella enquired.

“She did not put it into so many words,” Lord Corbury replied, “but I received the impression that no suitor with less than £50,000 in the bank would be acceptable to her father.”

Fenella pursed her lips together to prevent herself from saying aloud what she thought. After a moment Lord Corbury went on,

 “I may as well acknowledge defeat right away! What is the point of fighting when there is not a chance of winning ?”

“That is exactly what we might have said in England during the war,” Fenella answered. “Who would have thought that a little island like ours, so tiny on the map, could defeat the might of Bonaparte when he had already conquered nearly the whole of Europe.”

There was a pause. Then Lord Corbury said,

 “You are very sweet, Fenella, and somehow you always manage to cheer me up. Do you really believe in miracles?”

“Of course I do’,” Fenella declared, “especially where you are concerned. I am sure, Periquine, that God helps those who help themselves.”

“So you are still intent on this madcap robbery?” Lord Corbury said.

“Do you suppose I have dressed myself up like this just to sit beside you in heavy gloom?” Fenella enquired.

She looked at Lord Corbury’s glass and added suspiciously,

 “You are not drinking to drown your sorrows, are you?”

“Precious little chance of that,” Lord Corbury replied. “This is the last bottle in the cellar. After tonight I shall not be able to drink anything but water.”

“After tonight things may be very different,” Fenella said.

She walked across the room to the window.

“We must start soon. We ought to arrive at the Old Mill when it is dusk but not too dark for us to see our way to the house. We also have to go through the wood.”

Lord Corbury tossed back the rest of the wine that was in his glass.

“Let us get going,” he said recklessly. “Do you want me to wear some sort of fancy-dress?”

Fenella regarded him critically. He might be poor but at the moment he appeared as elegant and as exquisitely garbed as any Beau she had ever seen.

Then she remembered that when these clothes were worn out he would not be able to afford others.

“Put on the oldest things you have, Periquine, “ she said. “We have got to climb over a fence and I will have to stand on your shoulders to get in through the fan-light. You will find some of the garments you wore before you went into the Army upstairs in your closet. I tidied them only last week. And wear a black cravat - it is far less noticeable than what you have on now.”

“I suppose there is sense in what you are saying,” Lord Corbury said grudgingly.

He went from the room and Fenella heard him going upstairs.

She picked up his empty glass and carried it to a tray which stood on a side-table. Then she looked round the room to see if there was anything else she could tidy.

She had been over during the morning and had made the Salon appear as habitable as possible. There were bowls of flowers on the table, and while the cushions were old and worn they were clean because she had washed and pressed them herself.

Yet there was no doubt the whole place looked sadly shabby, and she knew only too well how it must appear in Hetty’s eyes.

The Priory was, Fenella thought, as far as she was concerned, the most beautiful place in the world. After the Dissolution of the monasteries in the reign of Henry VIII, the King had given the Priory and its estates to one of his courtiers who had served him well, and invested him with a Knighthood.

By a miracle the Priory and its lands had remained in the hands of the family through the troublesome times of Cromwell’s dictatorship, and on his Restoration Charles II created the barony of Corbury.

‘However poor Periquine may be,’ Fenella told herself, ‘I am glad that he cannot sell the Priory or dispose of its lands.’

Somehow she felt sure that something would happen which would enable him one day to live in his home in the style in which he wished to do. She could only pray that that day was not too far ahead.

She knew Periquine so well. She knew how easily he got depressed, how quickly his spirits would rise again. But there was a depth, although he was not really aware of it, in his character and a resilience which would eventually, she was certain, carry him through to victory.

‘He must succeed, he must !’ she told herself, and then with a drop of her heart realised that success for Periquine meant that he would marry Hetty.

It was hard to contemplate Periquine being married to anyone, but least of all to the girl they had both known since they were children.

Hetty Baldwyn had always been spoilt and had shown it by her air of disdain and condescension towards other girls, and the manner in which she assumed as her right that every man of her acquaintance should be at her feet.