Lady of Lincoln (14 page)

Mrs Trimmer laughed and clapped her hands, as much from relief as amusement. ‘You are quite correct, Brother,’ she told him. ‘I certainly ordered the gown myself from Mme Claudine. See how well it becomes Emily. Did I not make a good choice, Mrs Hughes?’

‘Very good,’ answered that lady briefly. She was by no means
pleased to see how pretty Emily looked, or to hear how promptly Sir Gareth had defended her, or even to discover in what good standing Emily appeared to be with the Trimmers. ‘Shall we set off now? We do not want to stand in the street talking about Miss Whittaker’s gown all day, surely.’

There was general agreement with this sentiment, if not with the way in which it had been expressed, and Sir Gareth and Lord Stuart stepped forward to help the ladies into the barouche. James had been reconciled to travelling with the ladies, since he had been promised that he could sit next to Phillips, the driver, for both journeys.

‘I suppose Wayne could have come after all,’ Mrs Hughes remarked, noting that there was an empty seat. ‘I told her that she must stay behind because there was no space.’ Mrs Trimmer, naturally, had taken the front facing seat, so that she could keep half an eye on James. Mrs Hughes had arranged herself next to her hostess, leaving Emily with no alternative but to face the back.

She did not mind. This was such an unusual treat for her that she did not care which way she sat. As she observed the
gentlemen
mounting their horses, and her eyes chanced to take in how athletically Sir Gareth took to the saddle, she realized, colouring, that this position had unforeseen benefits!

‘Poor Miss Wayne,’ Mrs Trimmer was saying. ‘Indeed there is plenty of room. We could send for her now, if you wished.’

‘Good heavens no,’ responded Mrs Hughes. ‘I only keep her for form’s sake; I take no pleasure in the woman’s company, you know. Besides, she set off quite early this
morning
to go for a long walk. I think that she is planning to visit the cathedral later.’ Her tone suggested that she could not understand why anybody could possibly want to do such a thing.

Emily glanced at Mrs Trimmer and then had to look away. She could tell that they were both wondering whether Miss Wayne disliked her employer’s company as much as Mrs
Hughes disliked hers! All at once, Emily recalled her idea that Miss Wayne might make a suitable governess for James and Oliver. She resolved to try to speak to Aurelia about it that very day.

I
t was about seventeen miles to Gainsborough, and they reached the little country town shortly before midday. The gentlemen rode beside or just behind the carriage for the most part, a fact which soon became apparent to Mrs Hughes. Her attempts to keep them in her eye became quite ludicrous at times. Of course, she could not keep turning around, for that would have been openly rude, but she did turn as much
sideways
on the seat as she possibly could. This meant that at one point, when they went over an unexpectedly bumpy place on the road, she was very nearly thrown onto the floor of the carriage, and rapidly had to take up a more sensible posture in order to avoid being made to look even more ridiculous.

Lord Stuart rode his horse with the careless ease of one who has been taught to do so from the cradle. Out of all of the horse-riders, it was he who rode alongside the barouche most frequently, sharing his attentions equally between all the ladies. Dr Boyle attempted to do the same, but he did not have the same facility on horseback, and after nearly falling off on one occasion, he kept to riding behind the barouche.

Oliver trotted gamely along on his pony, and Emily noticed that either his father or his uncle always stayed close by,
keeping
a careful eye on him. Emily could see the gentlemen quite clearly most of the time, but she took care not to stare at any of them, although Sir Gareth certainly cut a very fine figure in the
saddle. This determination of hers was made rather difficult, however, because for some of the time, there was an excellent view of Lincoln Cathedral that was different from the one to which she was accustomed. Strangely enough, this view often seemed to be just behind Sir Gareth.

After gazing at the building for a little while, Emily became conscious of being observed, and glancing away from the
cathedral
, her gaze met that of Sir Gareth, who guided his mount alongside the barouche.

‘A magnificent spectacle, wouldn’t you say?’ he declared, a twinkle in his eye.

At once, there came into Emily’s mind a memory of how they had stood on the threshold of her house, and she had breathed the word ‘magnificent’ whilst looking straight at him. ‘What can you mean, sir?’ Emily asked defensively, her cheeks suffused with colour. She looked across and saw to her relief that Mrs Hughes and Mrs Trimmer were engaged in conversation.

‘Why, the cathedral, of course,’ he answered. ‘What other spectacle did you have in mind?’

Confused, she did not know how to answer him. She was relieved when Mrs Hughes claimed his attention, and she was able to calm herself by looking at the passing scenery.

On arriving in Gainsborough, they made their way
immediately
to the White Hart. ‘How odd,’ murmured Mrs Hughes. ‘We are staying at the White Hart in Lincoln, too.’

‘Dashed odd,’ her cousin agreed. ‘We’ll have to take care we don’t forget where we are, eh Blades?’

‘You should be quite safe, Stuart,’ the baronet responded. ‘If you do not see the cathedral, then you will know you are in Gainsborough.’

‘Ah, but that won’t work,’ the young lord pointed out triumphantly. ‘Y’see, you can’t see the cathedral from the White Hart in Lincoln. Too dashed close, don’t you know?’

‘You’ll just have to ask someone if you’re not sure,’ the baronet told him.

‘But no one would be so confused by the name of the inn that he would forget which town he was in,’ the doctor protested.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Lord Stuart returned. ‘Take me for instance; went out for a night’s gambling with a few fellows. Popped into Old White’s; drank a bottle of as smooth a red as I’ve tasted in a long time – have you had any from there, Blades?’

‘Not recently,’ Sir Gareth answered, keeping his eye on his two nephews whilst their father was seeing to the disposal of the barouche.

‘Well, make sure you do before it’s all gone. Anyway, left White’s, popped in to Boodle’s – or was that another night? Never mind; thing is, I chanced to bump into Freddy Gorringe – you know him?’

‘Slightly,’ the baronet replied.

‘Went to his lodging for a hand of cards. Had devilish bad cards, too. No luck all evening.’ He stopped speaking, and beamed around at the other members of his party who were preparing to go into the inn. Aware that some of them at least were looking at him expectantly, he said, ‘What? What is it?’

‘We are all longing to hear the end of this enthralling tale,’ prompted Mr Trimmer.

‘Tale? Oh, of course! Brain like a sieve.’

‘That retentive, eh?’ Sir Gareth murmured.

Lord Stuart grinned good-humouredly. ‘Well, we left Freddy’s and went to Slaughters, then on to another place or two, and finally home. And it was then that I noticed I’d not got my cane. Went back in my mind. Did I have it at White’s? Yes, because some fellow said ‘Fine cane, Stuart’ – or did he say Fenn? – and I said, yes it is, or something like that. Did I have it at Boodles? Yes, I put it on the floor by my chair. Did I have it at Freddy’s—’

‘Yes, we have grasped your thought processes,’ the baronet interrupted. ‘You went back in your mind through all the places that you had visited, and were convinced that you had had your
cane on every occasion.’

‘Marvellous!’ exclaimed Lord Stuart. ‘Now why didn’t I think to put it like that? But that’s just what I did. So the next day, I got up and went back to all the places I’d been, starting with the last which I think was Hamilton’s. Went in; found a waiter: said “Have you found a cane with a silver top – might have left it here last night?” “No sir,” was the answer. Went to the next place …’

‘Allow me to précis that for you,’ Sir Gareth said kindly. ‘You went back to all the places that you had visited and asked them if they had seen your cane.’

‘I don’t know how he does it,’ remarked Lord Stuart,
shaking
his head. ‘Did just that; and guess what?’

‘You’d left it at White’s all along?’ the baronet suggested.

Lord Stuart stared at him in amazement. ‘It’s uncanny,’ he breathed. ‘How did you work that out?’

‘Perhaps he was of your party,’ suggested Mrs Trimmer,
smiling
at Emily, who had been listening to the dialogue in
amazement
. She could not remember hearing such a conversation in her life before.

‘No, never,’ Lord Stuart answered shaking his head. ‘He runs with a much more dangerous set. Anyway, it just goes to show.’

‘Goes to show what?’ asked Mr Trimmer cautiously.

‘I lost my cane; thought I’d had it all along; didn’t have it at all. Fellow could easily think he was in Gainsborough and find he was in Lincoln. Easiest thing in the world.’

They all laughed as they went into the inn, but Dr Boyle, who brought up the rear, followed his polite laughter with a contemptuous snort.

None of the party was ready for food just yet, so they decided to have a cold drink – the day being decidedly warm – and stroll about the town a little before a light lunch which Mr Trimmer bespoke on their behalf as soon as they arrived. The gentlemen each had a glass of the landlord’s home brew and pronounced it very good, whilst the ladies, together with Oliver and James,
were very grateful for a drink of the landlady’s own lemonade. Oliver had looked rather tired when they came into the inn, but the drink, together with a few cakes which the landlady brought in on a plate, soon revived him. Under cover of some other conversation, Mrs Trimmer told Emily that the ride was the longest that her son had attempted.

‘He has done so well, but he was quite determined to ride with the men. He idolizes his uncle, as you have probably noticed.’

‘At least he will have a good rest before the journey back,’ Emily pointed out.

‘Yes, and if he is too tired, Gareth will manage by some means to persuade him into the barouche.’

None of them wanted to be sitting about for long, so as soon as everyone’s drink was finished, they left the inn and walked out into the sunshine. The boys were all for going to have a look at the river, and as the White Hart, situated in Lord Street, was not very far from there, the whole party agreed that such a stroll would occupy the time before luncheon very well. Needless to say, the boys were full of questions, and Dr Boyle, who had had relatives living in the town at one time, quickly found that he was being looked to as the authority on all matters pertaining to Gainsborough.

Noticing this, Sir Gareth informed Emily that he was sorry about her change in status.

‘My change in status, sir?’ she asked him, wrinkling her brow.

‘Why certainly, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘We changed the day for this outing in order to take advantage of your local knowledge, if you recall. Now you find yourself outshone completely.’ They were standing quite close to where the doctor was describing the dramatic effects of the spring tides to two fascinated young boys, whilst Mr and Mrs Trimmer looked on. Mrs Hughes and her cousin had wandered a few steps away and were talking quietly together.

‘It is quite true,’ Emily replied. ‘What is to be done?’

The baronet looked down at her, pretending to consider the matter. ‘Well, it’s too late to take you back now,’ he said
eventually
in tones of mock regret. ‘I’ll just have to make the best of your company, won’t I?’ His words, taken at face value, were ungracious, but his eyes told a different story.

What a contrast she was, the baronet thought to himself, looking at her as she turned her face away, her cheeks flushed becomingly. In some ways, she was far more experienced than other women of her age. Her visits to the prison, her work for the poor, her time spent with the sick and the dying had given her a breadth and depth of understanding that was rarely found in gently bred ladies. Her interest in the world about her, too, was, in his experience, unusual. Yet in anything concerning
intimate
relations between men and woman, she shied away like the most innocent of very young debutantes. His sister had suggested that there might be an understanding between Miss Whittaker and Dr Boyle. If there was, then it could not be a very passionate one.

Conscious that he had been staring down at her for a little too long without saying anything, he murmured in a low tone, ‘By the way, you do look delightful in Aurelia’s gown. It was an excellent choice.’

She looked up at him again, a startled expression on her face. ‘You know, then,’ she exclaimed, her tone matching her
expression
.

‘My dear Miss Whittaker, I was with her when she chose it,’ he returned. ‘I thought it charming then, and I still do.’

‘Then you don’t mind?’

He laughed. ‘Why should I mind?’ he asked her. ‘My sister has a perfect right to do what she wishes with her gowns,
especially
when the results are as pleasing as they are now.’

At that point, Mrs Hughes and her cousin joined them, with some question about the new bridge over the river, and they all strolled on a little, looking at the water. This time, Emily found herself walking with Mr Trimmer, whilst the boys ran ahead
under the watchful eye of their uncle, and Lord Stuart chatted with Mrs Trimmer on his right and his cousin on his left.

Emily was just trying to decide how to bring up the matter that was disturbing her, when Mr Trimmer made the whole business easy for her by saying, ‘Have I told you how delightful you look, Miss Whittaker?’

By now, Emily’s conscience was troubling her so much that instead of thanking him for his compliment, she simply said rather vaguely, ‘Oh dear.’

‘Pardon?’ responded the clergyman, somewhat startled.

‘You know of course that … that …’

‘I know the
source
of your gown,’ Mr Trimmer interrupted. ‘Are you worried that I do not approve? I can assure you that I do. Aurelia was very apprehensive about moving to Lincoln, but came because she knew that I wanted this appointment. Thanks to you, she feels that she has found a friend. Any kindness that she can do you in return must be approved by me.’

‘You are very good,’ Emily answered, her brow still wrinkled in anxiety. ‘I value your wife’s friendship, and am grateful for her kindness.’

‘But you cannot approve the deceit that has been practised?’ he hazarded.

‘That is exactly it,’ she agreed. ‘I would not have minded everyone knowing …’ Her voice tailed away, as she imagined the reaction of Mrs Hughes, and even of Lord Stuart, had they known that her dress was only borrowed.

‘Miss Whittaker, I think you are not being entirely truthful,’ Mr Trimmer observed acutely. ‘Besides, from what I did hear of the conversation, and from what Aurelia has told me briefly, there was no real deceit. The maker of the gown was named, my wife was mentioned as being the one who ordered it and whose taste was consulted. If you never have any
misdemeanour
more serious than this with which to belabour your conscience, you will be a very happy woman. Now, forget all about it and enjoy the day.’

Taking this sensible advice to heart, Emily dismissed the matter from her mind, and while they completed their stroll, she told Mr Trimmer about her other friend, Mrs Fanshawe, and the new baby that surely must be born soon.

Lunch at the White Hart was well served and tasty, but not too heavy. Afterwards, Mrs Trimmer said that she would like to lie down, and Mr Trimmer bespoke a bedroom so that she could do so. Emily, looking at the tender expression on his face as he told her that he would keep his eye on the boys, wondered whether she had told him about her condition.

Mr Trimmer then said that he would take the boys down to the river again and see if he could find a boat that would take them for a ride. Dr Boyle recommended a walk around Gainsborough Old Hall, and then a visit to All Saints church.

‘It was built in the late 1400s,’ he told them, ‘and in its time, it was visited by royalty. It has now, I fear, become much neglected, but the outside is still worth examination.’

The party of five set out from the White Hart, but turned to the right before they reached the river, so as to visit the Old Hall. This time, Mrs Hughes managed to manipulate the situation so that she was holding on to Sir Gareth’s arm, whilst the doctor offered his to Emily. It was the first time that she could remember his ever having done such a thing. Lord Stuart strolled along on his own, addressing an occasional remark to his cousin or to Sir Gareth.