Anything but a Gentleman (16 page)

‘Beat that!’ said Jennifer eagerly as she played the ace of clubs.

‘Oh, I’m sorry Jennifer,’ said Miss Stock gaily, laying down the two of trumps. ‘I believe the trick is mine.’

Marianne returned her attention to the game, playing well enough for her wandering thoughts to go unnoticed, but it was a relief when it was finally time for her to retire.

‘You did that very well.’ Lord Ravensford spoke to her softly as she waited for Figgs to bring a candle to light her to her bedchamber. ‘No one would have suspected you had other things on your mind.’

‘But not as well as you,’ she remarked, hiding the pain she had felt at watching him hanging over Mrs Kilkenny all evening.

‘Jealous, Marianne?’ he asked.

It was the amusement in his voice which led her to make a sharp retort; one which hid her true feelings entirely. ‘Not at all. I think you suit each other very well.’

‘If I thought you meant that . . . ’ he said tightly.

But could say no more. Miss Stock was coming towards them, a smile on her kindly face.

‘Lord Ravensford. I must add my thanks to Marianne’s,’ she said, mistakenly believing Marianne to be thanking him for a most enjoyable day. ‘That was a wonderful evening. I have not enjoyed my cards so much for years.’

Lord Ravensford bowed graciously and the two ladies, lighted by candles which Figgs had now brought, made their way upstairs to bed.

‘Such a charming man,’ sighed Miss Stock happily as she bid Marianne goodnight.

Charming? thought Marianne, as she went into her own room. Confusing was more the word she would have used. Having spent all evening deliberately courting Mrs Kilkenny, why had he then been so angry at her retort that they suited each other very well?

She gave a sigh and put the candlestick down on the little table next to her half-tester bed. Impossible to understand him, so better not to make the attempt. But try as she might she could not stop herself thinking about him. What were Lord Ravensford’s feelings for her? Were they simply the protective feelings of a man for his friend’s sister, coupled with a strong desire? Or were they something deeper? Something, perhaps, that matched her feelings for him?

Chiding herself for wishful thinking she rang for Nell and, once undressed, she blew out the candle and climbed into bed.

* * * *

The party broke up after breakfast on the following morning. As Marianne waited for Tom to bring the carriage, Lord Ravensford managed to get a few minutes alone with her.

‘Don’t worry about Kit,’ he said in an undertone, as Miss Stock admired the Billingsdale family portraits which hung in the hall. ‘We’ll get him out of France, I promise you.’

‘I’m sure you will.’

Her voice was cool, her manner was composed, and he was surprised by her attitude. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought she didn’t care.

‘You’re taking this very calmly,’ he said, perplexed.

‘There is nothing to be gained by having a fit of the vapours,’ she remarked blandly.

‘True.’ He frowned. ‘Even so . . . ’

‘I have perfect confidence in you,’ she said.

He looked at her uncertainly, and she realised that for once the tables had been turned. It was usually he who was in control of the situation, but now he was the one who was perplexed.

‘That’s good,’ he returned slowly. ‘I don’t know how long it will take. We should be in France by the early hours of tomorrow morning, but we’re not sure what we’ll find. When Adèle sent the message, she and Kit were holed up in a farmhouse just south of Boulogne, but they may have been forced to move on.’

‘I understand.’

‘Oh, here is Tom now,’ said Miss Stock, as she caught sight of the Travis carriage rolling past the window. ‘Marianne . . . ’

‘Just coming, Miss Stock.’ Marianne turned to Lord Ravensford and said formally, ‘Thank you for a delightful weekend, my lord. It was most enjoyable.’

‘Thank you for coming, Miss Travis,’ he replied. Adding, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to thank you for allowing me to borrow Henri. It was good of you to let him come over here last night and lend a hand with the dinner. Mrs Hill is an excellent cook, but it’s the little French touches that lift a meal out of the ordinary, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Oh, quite,’ breathed Miss Stock, remembering the excellent meal.

‘Would you mind if I borrowed him for a few more days?’ Lord Ravensford asked Marianne. ‘I’d like him to teach Mrs Hill how to make some of my favourite French dishes.’

Realising he needed an excuse to take Henri away from the Hall for the next few days so that the Frenchman could go with him to France, Marianne said, ‘No, of course not. You’re very welcome.’

‘Thank you.’

Their leave taken, Marianne led Miss Stock out of the house. Once Miss Stock had been safely returned to the rectory, Marianne had time to think over her plan. She didn’t like deceiving anyone but her mind was made up. Julian had died because there had not been a doctor on hand when he had needed one, and Kit may be about to die for the same reason. But she did not intend to let that happen. She would have asked Dr Moffat to undertake the voyage if she had thought it would do any good, but she knew he would refuse, therefore she intended to go herself. She may not be a doctor, but she had a lot of experience in tending people who had had accidents on the estate, and had even seen a bullet removed when Tom had had an accident with his gun. She knew how to clean and bind serious wounds, and furthermore there were some laudanum drops in the medicine chest which she could use to ease Kit’s pain.

The carriage pulled up outside Seaton Hall.

‘Thank you, Tom,’ she said, sweeping into the house.

Now all she had to do was convince Trudie that she had been invited to visit the Cosgroves for a few days and her plan would begin to take shape.

‘There you are, Miss Marianne,’ said Trudie, coming towards her with a beaming face, for she was eager to hear all about Marianne’s enjoyable few days.

Marianne obliged her with an account of the party.

‘And I dare say you saw Henri there?’ asked Trudie. ‘Lord Ravensford sent for him yesterday. But still, you know all about that, I expect.’

Marianne agreed, and Trudie was satisfied. She was so impressed with Henri’s cooking herself that it did not seem strange to her that Lord Ravensford should want the chef to teach his cook how to make his favourite French meals, little suspecting that he had needed Henri to help him formulate a plan for Kit's rescue.

‘How has Papa been?’ asked Marianne.

‘Oh! Well enough. To tell you the truth, I don’t think he’s noticed you’ve gone.’

Marianne gave a sigh.

‘Now, don’t you take on so,’ said Trudie bracingly. ‘Your Papa is what he is. Well, your room’s all ready for you,’ she said more brightly as Marianne took off her cloak and bonnet. ‘After all the gaiety, you’ll be wanting a rest.’

‘Thank you, Trudie, but I won’t be staying long.’ Trudie looked at her in surprise, and she explained, ‘The party was so successful that Mr and Mrs Cosgrove have decided to host a gathering at their house, and I have said I will go.’

‘Ah!’ nodded Trudie trustingly; causing Marianne a twinge of guilt at her lie. ‘That’s a good idea. Once people get to enjoying themselves, they don’t want to stop. And why should they? You go, Miss Marianne. You’ve done enough work over the winter to run a colonel into the ground. You go and enjoy yourself. And don’t you worry about your Papa. If he asks for you, I’ll tell him you’ll be home by . . . . ?’

‘By the end of the week.’

Trudie nodded in satisfaction, glad Marianne was going to have a few more days of enjoyment.

But if she had known what Marianne was really going to do, she would have been up in arms.

‘Will you be wanting lunch, or are you going on to the Cosgroves’ straight away?’

‘I’ll have something to eat first – just something simple - and then when I’ve packed a few things I’ll be on my way.’

‘I’d better tell Tom to keep the carriage out.’

‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ said Marianne quickly. ‘I think I’d rather ride. It’s a lovely day, and as Mrs Cosgrove has kindly offered to lend me some of Susan’s dresses, I won’t need to take too many things – just a few personal items thrown into a small valise. I can take it with me, tied on to the saddle.’

Trudie nodded sagely. ‘She’s tired of seeing you in the same dresses day after day. You and Susan were always much of a size,’ she said, thinking of Susan, the Cosgroves’ married daughter, who now lived in Bath. ‘It will be the very thing.’

Marianne would rather not have compounded her large lie with a small one, but the stakes were so high that the lies, which at any other time would have troubled her, caused her no more than a moment’s guilt. She was determined to be on the ship when it set sail to rescue Kit, and inventing a party at the Cosgrove estate gave her the necessary excuse for being away for a few days.

Relieved that the first part of her plan had gone so smoothly, she allowed herself an hour’s rest and then, having had something to eat, she dressed in her riding habit and took a small valise out to her waiting mare.

‘You enjoy yourself,’ said Trudie as she waved Marianne off.

Marianne smiled, but as she rode away she said softly, under her breath, ‘I doubt it.’

Now that the first hurdle had been successfully cleared she turned her thoughts to what lay ahead. Following the road to begin with, she soon turned off onto a beaten track that made its way through open countryside parallel to the coast. She rode quickly and confidently, sure of where she was heading.

As children she and Kit had loved to mess about on the water. Their father had been a keen amateur sailor and had owned his own small craft. They had spent a lot of time in the neighbouring coves and quays, and had come to know most of the ships and their crews, so that when Marianne had heard Lord Ravensford mention the name of Captain Gringe, she had begun to consider the possibility of stowing away on his ship.
The Returner
was a craft she knew very well, and there was a perfect place where she could hide, at least until the ship was safely on its way to France. But she had much to do before she could go on board.

Arriving at the small harbour, which lay some ten miles west of Seaton Hall, she proceeded to the blacksmith’s. Jim Smith was hard at work, his hammer rising and falling as he shoed a cart-horse. Marianne dismounted, sliding to the ground without help. She had grown used to managing this somewhat difficult task alone since the servants at the Hall had become depleted. She  stood patiently holding her mare’s head until he had finished.

Jim wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, then turned towards her. ‘Mornin’, miss, what can I  – why, if it isn’t Miss Marianne!’ His round face beamed as he saw her.

‘Hello, Jim.’ She smiled in return.

‘It’s a long time since we’ve seen you in these parts – we haven’t seen you since . . . Oo, not since your Pa gave up the yacht.’ His face fell as he realised he had been tactless, for Mr Travis had given up the yacht shortly after his wife’s death. ‘What brings you here, Miss Marianne?’

Marianne hesitated. She could not tell Jim what had really brought her to the harbour but she did not like lying. She had been forced to lie to Trudie, but with Jim she hoped to be able to get away with making a vague answer; he was not likely to think it his business to ask any awkward questions.

‘I need to stable my mare until Friday,’ she said. ‘For reasons I can’t go into, I can’t leave her at the Hall.’

‘Why, that’s no problem. I can keep her here for you ’til then.’

‘I was hoping you would say that, Jim. Thank you. And Jim . . . ’

‘Yes, miss?’

‘I’d rather no one else knew about this. From the Hall, I mean.’

Jim grinned. ‘A surprise is it, Miss Marianne? Well, I don’t know what you’re planning, but your secret’s safe with me.’

Relieved that Jim had assumed she was planning to surprise someone – to give them the mare as a present, perhaps – she gave him a handful of coins. ‘To feed her,’ she explained. ‘And there is one other thing. If by any chance I haven’t come to claim her by Friday, can you see that this letter is delivered to the Hall?’

Jim wiped his hands down the front of his leather apron before taking it.

‘The letter will make sure the mare is collected by someone else, if for any reason I can’t come.’

And it will tell them everything, in the event something happens and I don’t return, she thought.

‘Just as you say, Miss Marianne. I’ll get my boy to take it over Friday if you don’t manage to get here yourself.’

‘Thank you, Jim.’

With that task done, Marianne took a walk round the small town that clustered round the harbour. She purchased some basic items of food to take with her onto the ship and then retired to the church until it was dark.

When the light had faded, she left the church and made her way down to the quay, where half a dozen ships were tied up. With a quick look over her shoulder to make sure that she was not being observed, went aboard
The Returner
. Knowing the ship as she did, she knew that the Captain’s cabin had a large cupboard at one end which was now almost empty. The Captain had had it put in for the benefit of his wife, who had accompanied him on his shorter trips in years gone by, and had needed it for her clothes. But she was bedridden now, and the cupboard was unused. Or had been, last time Marianne had been on board.

She made her way into the cabin. Sure enough, the cupboard, which had been made by partitioning off the end of the cabin, was still there, and apart from a tattered cloak, a broken telescope and dusty pile of ropes it was empty.

She knew it would not keep her hidden for long, because on a ship of this size total concealment would be impossible, but if she could just escape detection until the ship was too far out to turn back then she would be satisfied.

She settled herself as comfortably as she could. Then there was nothing to do but wait.

* * * *

It was shortly after ten o’clock that the crew came on board. Marianne heard a snatch of song and some ripe laughter as the men walked up the gangplank, and then she heard Captain Gringe calling out instructions as the men passed to and fro overhead, carrying out their allotted tasks.