Runaway Miss (6 page)

‘Gambling is an abomination, the ruin of so many lives.’

‘Certainly it can be so, but in moderation it can while away the hours.’

‘Oh, it can indeed do that, my lord. Hours and hours, whole days sometimes.’ She sounded so bitter, he looked sharply at her. Was that the reason she had fallen on hard times? Her own gambling or someone else’s?

‘You have experience of that?’

‘I…Never mind. Tell me about your men. Where are they now?’

‘Scattered to the winds. Some are buried where they fell, others are still serving, gone to America to put down the rebellion there, still more have come home to an England they hardly know. It would not be so bad if the country was grateful, if something was being done to alleviate their distress, but I see little evidence of it.’

‘What do you think should be done?’

‘Employment is what they need, Miss Draper, so they can look after their families and live in dignity.’

‘Is there no employment for them?’

He looked sharply at her. She must have been leading a very sheltered life not to know that unemployment was one of the main issues of the day. And wasn’t she off to take a job herself? He’d lay odds she had never worked before. ‘Not enough,’ he said. ‘And those whose work is on the land are doubly to be pitied considering it has hardly stopped raining all year. There will be little enough grain this harvest time and a poor harvest means poor wages.’

‘Is it the same in the towns?’

‘Nearly as bad. The price of bread will soar. If nothing is done, I fear for the working man.’ Was she simply making conversation, getting him to talk, or did she really not know how things were? A gentlewoman driven to be a companion almost certainly would. It would have been part of the argument for taking up such a post.

‘And woman,’ Rose put in.

He turned towards her. ‘Yes, indeed, Miss Turner. Do you have employment? Are you to be a companion too?’

‘No, my lord. I am going home to help my mother.’

‘Is your home in the Lakes?’

‘No my lord. It is in Chelmsford.’

‘Chelmsford—then what are you doing on a coach going to Manchester?’

‘Keeping Miss Draper company.’

‘And who will keep you company when you have to leave her?’

‘Oh, I shall not need company, my lord. I do not mind travelling alone.’

That gave him food for thought and for a moment he lapsed into silence. If their stations were equal, why did one girl need company and the other not? The answer was, of course, that they were not equal in rank at all. Miss Draper, if that were really her name, was far superior. Was one maid to the other? Then why were they dressed alike? His curiosity deepened.

Emma knew Rose had made a blunder. He was becoming inquisitive and there was a self-satisfied smirk on the face of his man. She did not know what to say to allay his suspicions. She really should not have allowed herself to become involved in conversation with him. What could she say to put him off? Perhaps it would be better not to say anything at all. She had been sitting forward but now, as they stopped for yet another change of horses, she leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. Perhaps he would take the hint.

Already they had been on the road for twelve hours and there were still many more miles to go before they reached Leicester where, she had been assured, they would be able to put up for the night. Perhaps they would part there; he might go on tonight without stopping or perhaps take a different
coach in the morning. But thinking about that made her suddenly aware that she had been glad of his presence, of the way he had gallantly looked after them. He could command instant service at the inns and thought nothing of berating the horse-keeper on the standard of his horses; the very fact that he appeared to be escorting her made her feel more secure.

The latest horses were fresh and the rain had stopped so they made up a little of the lost time. It was ten o’clock and she was dog-tired when the coach pulled into the yard of the Three Crowns in Leicester. Lord Malvers helped her out and took her elbow to guide her into the inn, leaving Joe and Rose to follow. In no time at all his lordship had arranged for a room for her and went with her to inspect it.

‘The bed linen is not clean,’ he told the innkeeper’s wife, who had personally shown them up to the room. ‘Change it at once. And replace the water in that ewer. It is covered in scum. We will dine downstairs while you see to it.’

The woman bobbed a curtsy. ‘At once, my lord.’

Having laid down his orders, he turned to Emma. ‘Come, Miss Draper.’

A little bemused, Emma followed him downstairs, to find Joe and Rose cosily ensconced in the parlour close to the fire where he was regaling her with a gory story of war in Spain.

His lordship ordered a meal, but Emma was almost too tired to eat. Travelling by public coach was very different from going in their own carriage and taking their time about it, very different from going post chaise, though they hadn’t done that since her father died. She suspected her stepfather was not nearly as wealthy as he liked people to believe. And he could not touch her inheritance. Of course! That was it, that was why he was insisting on her marrying Lord Bentwater. They had done a deal over her fortune. How hard would they try to find her? If they caught up with her before
she reached Mrs Summers, what would her present escort do? Hand her over, or help her? She was too tired to worry about it, too tired to take part in the conversation.

‘Miss Draper, I am keeping you from your bed.’

‘What? Oh, I am sorry, my lord. What were you saying?’

‘It is of no consequence. Come, I’ll escort you to your room. You need to sleep and we have an early start in the morning.’

She did not argue, but stood up and followed him from the room, Rose bringing up the rear. At the door of the room she turned to thank him, but he brushed her thanks aside. ‘Glad to be of service,’ he said. ‘I am just along the passage. If you need anything, send Miss Turner to wake me. I’ll be with you in an instant.’ He bowed and strode away.

The two girls entered the room and shut the door. The bed linen had been changed and there was fresh water in the ewer and the layer of dust she had noticed earlier had gone. Her bag and Rose’s bundle were on a chest below the window.

Emma sank on to the bed, while Rose unpacked their night things. ‘What do you make of him, Rose?’

‘I don’t know, my lady. In my book, men don’t do favours for nothing and we’ve landed ourselves very much in his debt. What is he going to ask in return?’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want anything. Perhaps he is simply a knight errant.’

Rose’s reply was a sniff of disbelief.

‘Do you think he believes our story?’

‘Does it matter what he believes?’ She crossed the room with Emma’s nightgown and laid it on the bed.

Emma began unbuttoning her dress. ‘I found myself wondering what he would do if Sir George were to catch up with us before we reached our destination. Should I tell him the truth and throw myself on his mercy?’

‘No, my lady. You don’t know anything about him. He
might take advantage. Just think, he is a soldier, used to soldier’s ways…’

‘But I’m sure he’s an officer and a gentleman.’

‘You only have his word for that. Does a gentleman travel with his servant and sit at the same table?’

‘I am travelling with you in the same manner.’

‘That’s different.’

‘How different?’

‘You are not pretending to be a titled lady. Take my word for it, he thinks you are a gentlewoman fallen on hard times and as such ripe for a little sport.’

‘Rose, I refuse to believe that.’

Rose shrugged and helped Emma out of her clothes and slipped her nightdress over her head. ‘Why did he suggest sending me to fetch him in the middle of the night, then?’

She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Oh, Rose, I would never have taken that as an invitation. How glad I am that you came with me.’

She went over to the door and turned the key in the lock and then dragged a chair against it for good measure. There was only one bed and they got into it together. Two minutes later they were both asleep.

Alex prepared for bed in a thoughtful mood. The more he saw of Miss Fanny Draper, the more he was convinced she was not what she seemed. She had started out being prickly as a hedgehog, determined to be independent, but that had lasted only until they reached the Peahen in St Albans. Who was she? Was she, as Joe insisted, a runaway? He had no idea how old she was, but she was not a schoolgirl, so what was she running from? A husband? He hadn’t seen a wedding band. The law? If so, what had she done? Was she simply an intrepid traveller, telling the truth, or a clever trickster, manipulating him into feeling sorry for her in order to part him
from his money? If that turned out to be the case, she would find he was not such easy game as she imagined. It was a pity because she was too lovely to be a criminal and when she looked at him with those huge violet eyes, he found himself softening. Damn the woman! He thought he knew women in all their changing moods, had met enough of them in his time, but this one had him foxed.

E
mma woke when she heard someone rattling the door knob. She sat up, thankful that she had been warned by Rose and locked the door. She shook her sleeping maid. ‘Rose, there’s someone outside the door.’

Rose stirred and yawned and then, realising where she was, jumped out of bed, embarrassed to find herself in bed with her mistress, something that had not happened since Emma was small and needed comforting after a nightmare.

‘Miss Draper, Miss Turner, it is time to rise. The coach leaves in less than an hour.’ It was the innkeeper’s wife.

Emma gave a sigh of relief and scrambled from the bed where she had been sitting with her knees up and the covers drawn right up to her chin. ‘We will be down directly.’

They washed and dressed, packed their few things and went down to breakfast. Another day of travelling had begun. But before they left they had to pay for a night’s board and lodging. It cost them fourteen shillings each and this time there was no Lord Malvers to offer to pay. Not that she would have allowed it if he had. She was already too beholden to him for her own peace of mind, especially after Rose’s warning the night before.

‘Do you think he has overslept or gone on a different coach?’ Emma asked Rose when he did not put in an appearance at the breakfast table.

Rose shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not at all. I am sure we can manage perfectly well without him.’ But she found herself looking for him as they walked out to the coach, already being loaded. It was not the coach they had arrived in; that had gone on the night before with those passengers who preferred reaching their destination to sleeping in a strange bed. This one had left London the morning before. She saw Viscount Malvers inspecting the horses and harness and talking to the coachman. Was he always that particular? she wondered.

He doffed his hat when he saw them. ‘Good morning, Miss Draper, Miss Turner. It is a much finer day today and we should make good time.’ He took their baggage from them and handed it to Joe to put in the boot, then he held the door for them. ‘In you go, we’ll be off in two minutes.’

Emma’s spirits rose at the sight of him. Rose was adequate as a travelling companion, but it was comforting to know there was a gentleman in the background ready and willing to smooth their journey. Rose had advised caution and she would be cautious but that did not mean she would disdain his assistance. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ she said, as he put his hand under her elbow to help her up. It was the second time he had done that and his grip was firm without being domineering, just the sort of gesture a gentleman would make to a lady. But she wasn’t a lady; at least, for the purposes of this journey she wasn’t. Had he realised the truth? Was that why he was being so helpful, expecting a reward for his efforts? But wasn’t that just what Rose had warned her about? She was so concerned with her inner debate, she hardly noticed that everyone else had taken their seats and they were moving out of the yard.

She had not been able to see anything of Leicester the night before, but in daylight she noticed that the town was a busy one. Carts and drays were making their way to market and they made slow progress through the congestion. The buildings were a mixture of very old and very new: good brick-built houses interspersed with dilapidated timbered buildings, whose upper storeys projected into the roadway, forcing high vehicles like the coach into the middle of the road.

‘Leicester is a very old town,’ he said as an opening gambit, noticing she was leaning forward to see out of the window. She was near enough for their knees to be almost touching; when he leaned forward too, her bonnet was only inches from his face. It was a huge bonnet, long out of fashion, but then she was not fashionably dressed at all. The cloak, though clean, was worn and she was wearing the same striped dress she had worn the day before. He supposed it was hardly surprising when all the luggage she appeared to have was one quite small carpet bag. He was no expert on the subject, but he would have expected a lady, even lady’s companion going to a new position, to take at least one trunk and a hatbox as well as an overnight bag.

‘Yes,’ she said, leaning back a little. He had been too close for comfort, she could see every line of his face in detail, his healthy complexion, his searching blue eyes that seemed to be taking in everything about her, seeing past the surface to the person she was beneath the skin. ‘I believe the Romans were here.’

‘Yes. It was central to the Roman network of roads, on the crossroads from north to south and east to west. It still is today. It was invaded by the Danes, and later the Normans came and built the castle. And did you know Richard III’s body was buried here after he died at the Battle of Bosworth, though it was removed later and thrown in the river?’

‘No, I didn’t. How dreadful. But how do you know all this?’

‘I like to learn a little of the history of places I visit. It is a subject that has interested me ever since I found myself besieging ancient towns in the Peninsula. I hate to see the destruction of beautiful things.’ He paused and added softly, ‘Beauty should be preserved, do you not think?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She had intended to be short with him, to let him know she did not want to converse, but how could she be so uncivil? And he was an interesting man to listen to. ‘What else have you discovered?’

‘Lady Jane Grey came from here. You remember she was Queen for nine days?’

‘Yes, poor thing.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She was manipulated by the men around her.’ She sighed. ‘But there is nothing new in that. Why do men think they have the God-given right to order the lives of women, my lord?’

It was said with such feeling, he knew something had happened, something to do with a man. Was she fleeing from a man? Father, husband or lover? His curiosity deepened. ‘It has always been the way of the world,’ he said carefully. ‘I suppose it is because they are the weaker sex.’

‘And who says that? Men!’ The venom was there. ‘Oh, I know we are physically weaker, we cannot fight, nor carry heavy weights, but that is not everything. Women can be as learned and determined as men.’

His smile was a little lop-sided. ‘Oh, yes, indeed. Are you a determined woman, Miss Draper?’

‘I think so.’

‘Then I wonder how you will go on as a lady’s companion. I cannot see the role suiting you.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded.

‘Determination, independence, more than your share of looks. Do you think your employer will like those traits? The
role, I believe, requires you to be self-effacing and to remain in the background.’

How did they get from discussing the history of Leicester to this personal exchange which was making her very uncomfortable? For the first time since her flight she began to wonder about her future, which was in the hands of her mother’s friend. If Mrs Summers rejected her, refused to harbour her, what would she do? Rose would leave her soon to go back to her own mother and she would be without any kind of support. What use determination and independence then? ‘We shall have to wait and see,’ she said.

‘And if you do not suit?’

‘Then I shall have to find something else.’

‘Do you know the Lake District, Miss Draper?’

‘No, I have never visited it.’

‘If you need assistance, I shall be happy to provide it.’

She laughed, slightly bitterly. ‘I thought you said you had no use for a lady’s companion.’

‘So I did, but perhaps I can help in other ways.’

‘And I say again: I cannot be bought.’

It was the most dreadful put-down and she was sorry for it almost immediately, but he had leaned back in his seat and tipped his hat over his eyes, effectively ending the conversation. She looked across at his servant, who was grinning with unconcealed amusement. ‘I’d call that a draw,’ he murmured.

She gave him one of her Lady Emma looks of disapproval and he hastily turned his attention to the scene outside his side of the coach.

She sat back, turning to look out of the window to hide her tears. She was such a noddicock, quarrelling with his lordship when perhaps he was only trying to be helpful. She could not afford to make enemies. Oh, how she wished she was more conversant with the ways of the world. She wanted to apolo
gise, but his demeanour told her clearly enough he had done with her. And who could blame him?

He was not so much done with her as battling with his inner self. Why was he putting himself out for a chit who seemed to enjoy arguing with him? He was not used to being argued with. Just because he had offered her and her companion their inside seats did not mean he had to look after them thence forward, did it? He was becoming soft. But he had done no more than courtesy demanded, he answered himself, and he would make sure she knew that was all it was. On the other hand, he could see any number of hazardous situations that might befall a couple of unaccompanied women and he did not think they would know how to deal with them. Only a rakeshame would leave them to their own devices.

They were out in the country now and making a good speed between farmland, meadow and the occasional stand of trees. Good hunting country, Emma knew. Her stepfather came up for two weeks every year. Thinking of him inevitably turned her thoughts to her mother. How was she managing? Had Sir George bullied her into revealing where she had gone? If so, how far behind her was he?

They stopped for the first change of horses, but no one left their seats. On they went and without conversation she was left to meditate and that did not help her at all. She worried about her mother, she worried that her stepfather and that odious Lord Bentwater were hot on their heels, she worried about her reception when they reached Mrs Summers, she worried about Rose making the return journey all on her own. Had she done the right thing? If she had stayed in London, could she have found another way out of her predicament? Had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire? Her thoughts went round and round and led her nowhere. They were pulling into the inn at Loughborough before she realised how far they had come.

Pulling herself together with an effort, she allowed Lord Malvers to hand her down and then went ahead of him into the inn, where she escaped to the ladies’ room until it was time to return to the coach.

Kegworth, Derby, Ashbourne and Macclesfield went past in a similar manner and because he was not going to risk another put-down, she learned nothing of the history of these places. The silence would have been unbearable if his lordship’s servant and Rose had not been carrying on a lively conversation to which Lord Malvers contributed now and again. He was not angry with Rose, and yet it was Rose’s advice which had prompted her to speak so sharply. She was beginning to question the maid’s wisdom. Perhaps the servant classes expected men to behave badly, but that did not mean they were all like that, and Rose evidently did not include Joe Bland in her assessment.

‘What time are we expected in Manchester, my lord?’ she ventured at last.

He smiled. He had guessed she was stubborn, but he had not expected her silence to last so long. What had made her like that? What was there in her past that made her so wary of him? He had done her no harm, meant no harm, certainly had no designs on her and was only trying to be helpful in the way he would help a motherless kitten. Except she was no kitten, she had sharp claws. ‘If we make good time, it will be just after one, ma’am,’ he answered. ‘We will have a little wait there, I think, time for a proper meal and a rest before we have to go on.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘I shall be glad to take a walk,’ Rose said. ‘I am stiff as a board with sitting so long.’

‘Do not go without an escort, Miss Turner,’ Alex advised. ‘There is a great deal of unrest in the town due to men being out of work and their demand for enfranchisement. The spinners and weavers are particularly up in arms.’

‘Why should they bother us?’ Emma asked. ‘We are not in dispute with them and have nothing they might want.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said, smiling at her naïveté. Her straight back and top-lofty manner was enough to brand her one of the oppressors. ‘But there is no reason to take risks, is there? If you wish to take a walk, please allow me to accompany you.’ He held up his hand as if to ward off a blow. ‘And do not take offence at that, madam. If you do not care for my company, I will walk along behind.’

‘Do not be so touchy, my lord.’ She paused to smile at him and he was taken aback by its radiance. It was like the sun coming out after a storm. ‘How am I to learn anything of the place if my history teacher is not by my side to inform me?’

They stopped frequently to change the horses and once they left the coach for refreshment, which Emma would not allow his lordship to pay for, though she feared she might have affronted him by doing so. He sat silently contemplating the scenery the rest of the way to Manchester.

From a distance, all Emma could make of it were chimneys belching smoke, which seemed to hang over the whole place. And when they entered the town, they found themselves enveloped in it. The rain may have made the countryside fresher and greener, but all it had done in the town was deposit a muddy layer of soot everywhere. The roads were narrow and the buildings a mixture of enormous mills with rows and rows of dirty windows, manufactories and warehouses that dwarfed the lodging houses and tiny hovels, which seemed to have been put in haphazardly wherever there was space among them. It was the most dismal place she had ever been in. No wonder the people were discontented.

‘A true industrial town,’ he said, noticing her expression of distaste. ‘An overgrown village, put together at the dictates of commerce.’

‘How can they endure it?’

‘For money, Miss Draper. The cotton industry generates great wealth for some and the workers must go where the work is.’

She fell silent as the coach took them into the heart of the town, through a very narrow lane lined with shops and tenements, and deposited them in the yard of a busy inn. This was the end of the line as far as that particular coach company was concerned and passengers were obliged to make new arrangements to convey them further north. While Joe Bland fetched their luggage, Alex escorted them into the inn and ordered a meal for all four.