Stephanie and the Wicked Deceiver (Wild Marchmonts #2)

4. The Game Continues

Chapter 4

The Game Continues

F our gentlemen riding back from the village entered the grounds of Hedley Court fortified by a heartier repast than that offered by the earl’s excellent French cook (consisting of a raised rabbit pie, whole baked potatoes, assorted overcooked vegetables, two trout, an oxtail, some soup of doubtful origin, and an enormous baked rice pudding) plus a deal of English ale.

They had also made some purchases: a rough linen shirt that Fortescue declared would be good for gardening (though he had not, thus far in life, done any); a spotted cravat length for a cousin of Armitage’s that he did not like; a fob for Pettigrew of an unusual design that he thought looked a bit like his family crest (though it was found to made of inferior metal and consequently discarded), and the latest sporting journal from London for Hedley (another copy of which would be delivered to his house as usual in perhaps three days).

They were laughing as they were about to turn into the main carriage drive but a running footman called on them to stop.

‘Well, James?’ asked Hedley as the friends settled the horses. Atlas, Hedley’s magnificent chestnut, was particularly frisky and objected to going from a gallop to a stop all at once, but Hedley had schooled him to behave.

‘Miss has come again, my lord. Mr Wilson thought you should know,’ the footman said.

The servants, as usual, knew everything. ‘She’s here? Right!’ Hedley jumped from his horse. 'Take Atlas to the stables by way of the Lodge Path – you won’t be seen there.’

‘Here, Max, can’t you just say you have guests?’ Pettigrew demanded. ‘We can’t be hiding under a dashed table every time she takes to visiting.’

‘Shall you go and meet her, then, Horace?’ said Hedley sardonically, ‘Wearing that coat?’

‘What’s wrong with my coat? Ah, you wore it earlier! Why did you, by the way?’

‘To seem more like a primped-up popinjay!’ said Sir Rupert Armitage, his satyr’s face grinning.

Pettigrew was insulted. ‘Well, I like that!’

‘Look, just go in by the kitchens. I’ll tell Miss Marchmont that I expect visitors tonight.’ Hedley looked at the out-of-breath groom. ‘Right! I have been on a walk, obviously.’

‘John said you was riding, my lord, for which Mr Wilson slapped his head!’

‘Very well. I have ridden Sally – I mean Proudfoot – and then walked a little.’

‘You are wearing an excellent coat,’ Armitage reminded him.

‘Thank you, Rupert! Horace, change your coat with mine!’

As the young man did so, he muttered, ‘Take care you don’t bust it, you giant! That is a work of tailoring art.’

‘Of the comical variety!’ said Armitage.

‘Off with you all in case she takes it in her head to ride this way,’ Hedley ordered.

Pettigrew sighed. ‘Back to our chambers again! Here, you!’ he said to the groom. ‘Have them send up a bottle or two of the earl’s best claret.’

‘Not the best , James,’ Hedley said in passing.

‘Nonsense, that’s the least you can do ‘If she stays for any time at all, I’ll have to read a dashed book or some such thing!’

‘No need for the dramatic, Pettigrew,’ said Fortescue. ‘We can just play cards. But I wonder what brought her back today?’

‘I am somewhat afraid,’ Hedley said to Armitage with a shudder. ‘I did not tell you why she was sent away from London. The reason will curl your hair.’

‘Tell us later!’ said Fortescue. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll eat here?’

‘The Scottish maid would never allow it.’

It took the earl ten minutes to walk to the house and when he got there, to his disquiet, there was no Scottish maid to be found. However, the little Neapolitan stood in his salon looking like he was eyeing up the silver, and Hedley’s butler had placed no fewer than four maids in the room with Stephanie.

‘Miss Marchmont!’ he said. ‘An unexpected pleasure!’

Stephanie was not one who much noticed other’s opinions but the air of disapproval with which Wilson had ushered her into the red salon was palpable even to her. The arrival of the maids, like a row of dancers at the theatre she had recently visited, underlined his reproof.

There was deathly silence after Wilson had offered her refreshment, and she sat rather stiffly awaiting Hedley’s return from his ride. It had been twenty minutes now, and though Stephanie had tried to appear relaxed, even standing up at one point and walking about the room, Wilson’s cold eye had brought her back to her seat. He did not look directly at her but gazed into the distance with lofty disapproval. He was skilled at it, she considered. She did not much respond to disapproval, except from Mama. But Wilson’s awful detachment had weight.

She sighed. This was ridiculous! The butler was treating her as though she were one of her sisters making an illicit visit to a gentleman’s abode. Actually, that was what she was doing but… Anyway, she was not some miss trying to garner male attention. She was, in fact, supplying a service to this man’s master, although the butler would never understand that. It was as well for the nerves of all concerned that Stephanie did not speak this phrase aloud because the respectable butler might have fainted on the spot.

As the gilded clock on the mantle ticked into the silence, Stephanie was aware that Morag, who by now might have finished sorting the linens, would soon find her gone from her chamber at Reddingate.

It had been too exciting when she was exploring the bedchambers on her floor of the house and had found a foil mounted on a wall. It was an excellent weapon, and she had taken a few turns around the room with it. The décor of this chamber was masculine in style and she wondered vaguely who had inhabited it, concluding it must have been her grandfather’s.

She had decided she should find Hedley at once and start his training with his left arm; she could at least show him some simple tricks to disarm an assailant. Morag would complain, so it would be best to go without her.

As she left for the stables through a side door, she had found Pietro beside her. She did not bother to argue with him; Pietro, like her, seldom listened to requests.

Stephanie liked Reddingate. It was almost as large as Hedley Court, and although it had not been inhabited by anyone other than servants for some time its rooms and decor pleased her. It was a friendly sort of house, more friendly than the main house at Tremaine Towers, more like the west wing that Mama had tended . Yes, this house had a feel of Mama about it. There was ancient wainscoting and solid wooden furniture from a different age as there was in the west wing of Tremaine Towers.

But Morag might arrive at any moment and she would certainly not approve of Stephanie being here any more than Hedley’s butler had. The problem was that they did not understand .

Stephanie no longer expected to be understood. Her family understood her a little and gave her leeway, but there was no one who did not try to stop at least some of her adventures.

Hedley came in. ‘Miss Marchmont!’ he said. ‘What an unexpected pleasure.’

‘Your face looks disapproving like your silly butler’s.’

Wilson held his head higher, not deigning to listen to this insult. Hedley’s smile widened. ‘I beg your pardon! What brings you here? I thought you were to come tomorrow.’

‘That is because I found a foil,’ she said briskly. ‘In any event, I thought you would be bored here all by yourself. Shall we go and practise?’

As they left the house, to the butler’s evident relief (and Hedley’s less obvious but still considerable relief), Stephanie said accusingly, ‘Do I understand you walked and rode without an attendant ?’

‘Well,’ he said apologetically, ‘I wanted to practise my posture on the horse.’

‘That is admirable but you should take an attendant.’ She did not seem to have any thought of the pot and kettle but continued chiding him. ‘Look what happened only yesterday! Those ruffians might still be in the area. What if they had attacked again?’

‘I didn’t think of that,’ he confessed.

‘Well, you must! You are a big fellow and in consequence probably not used to being attacked much.’ She smiled. ‘My Uncle Gavin, who is tall and broad-shouldered like you, told me he had never had a fight in his life since others thought he might be dangerous because of his size. I quite understand that you have felt safe all this time, have you not?’

‘Reasonably so!’ he agreed.

‘But now that there are three ruffians in the area, you must not forget the danger you might stand in.’ She shook her head.

She was very good at chiding and he suspected she had listened to a great deal of it. He ventured apologetically, ‘But you rode here with only your groom.’

‘And a foil! And Pietro is no ordinary groom. My sister Naomi is the imaginative one. Once she and Eliot eventually joined us in London, she made up a score of stories about his past. She thinks him an assassin for the Italian King, or a bandito from the mountains, or a villainous kidnapper of young English girls whom he sells to rich Chinamen.’

‘Are there any rich Chinamen?’

‘Of course. Emperors with one hundred wives!’

‘And hearing all the stories of Pietro’s possible past, your Mama continues to employ him?’

‘Oh yes, for Richard said that if he kidnaps young girls he was welcome to me and to Berthe, too. That is my youngest sister who had helped me eat all the sweet rolls before Richard came down to breakfast that day. And then Mama said that was correct because it would be efficacious for her health if I were kidnapped.’

‘You do not have your other attendant today?’

‘Morag? Oh no – she locked me in my room while she sorted out the linen with the housekeeper. She may discover that I am gone soon, so we should be quick to practise the disarming tricks I have ready for you. Let us be defensive before we learn attack.’

‘She locked you in ? Did you climb out of a window?’ Hedley asked, his amazement making it hard for him not to laugh.

‘No. I have the tools to get out.’ She held out two pieces of metal, one straight and one filed down, as though they were a pair of magic wands. They had been tucked into the sash beneath her bosom.

‘Tabitha made these for me when she was … oh, eight years, I think, for I was twelve. I kept being locked up in the stillroom for sundry crimes, but mostly “to keep me safe and teach me a lesson at the same time”, as Morag put it. But with Tabitha’s magic keys I could go out and come back in before my hour was up. We still have not been caught.’

‘There is a chance you will be today,’ Hedley told her. He regarded her long red curls, her fair freckled skin and her naughty green eyes. She was evidently stronger than she looked. She was a reasonably tall girl and her body was graceful, but slight; ‘lithe’ was probably the most appropriate adjective. Her movements were brisk and decisive.

Since she had arrived in that plain dress and dreadful cape, it was perfectly apparent that she had no interest in winning him. The bonnet, too! This she threw off for a better view of the foil’s path and Hedley had the urge to stand on it. There must be another one more becomingly contrived that would fit the purpose of shade for her complexion without being quite so ugly.

‘You may be right,’ she mused. ‘I’ll say I used the window to escape for I locked the room after me. En garde !’

It was a sudden challenge and Hedley had to jump back a pace and bring up his foil in defence. He thought how dangerous this might be; she had put a button on each foil point while she was talking, but what if one became dislodged and he hurt her?

However, she immediately twirled his foil from his hand with a smart move he recognised as one of Sir Francis Sedgewick’s. The baronet was indeed a master, and she had followed him well. Perhaps her boast had been true; by a moment’s loss of attention or by underrating her, Sedgewick might indeed have lost to her once. She was not at his level, but in a year or two… She amazed him.

‘How came you to persuade Sir Francis to teach you?’ he asked. He wondered if the baronet, a well-known flirt, had admired the little redhead. She seemed a little young for him, but Hedley supposed he might have been unusually moved by her unique beauty.

‘Oh,’ said Stephanie, ‘I learned a method from my eight-year-old sister and I merely hounded him until he gave in.’ She laughed. ‘He came to Tremaine Towers to visit Eliot and I saw them fencing in the garden one morning. Eliot was good but Sir Francis was better, so I begged and begged him to teach me but he simply refused and teased me. However, he came back to the Dower House after Naomi and Eliot’s wedding and I asked again. We agreed to keep it a secret, for he was frightened of Mama, and we practised every day for a month. He said it took him away from the bilious sight of his friend showing affection to his wife.’ She smiled. ‘He is very amusing.’

Hedley could imagine the badgering, the reluctant lesson, then Sedgewick’s interest in her agility and sharp eye. A little shocked, he said, ‘You learned all that in just four weeks?’

‘Yes – and look how well you are doing, too! You shall not be far behind me.’

It had been amusing to be instructed and touching when she worried about the dratted footpads, who were even now sitting with their feet under Hedley’s table broaching his best claret. But it was no longer quite ridiculous because Stephanie showed him a move he did not know and disarmed him again after twenty minutes! ‘Pietro taught me that!’ she informed him.

‘Yes, it looked like the move of a brigand!’

‘I say again, my lord, this is what you must understand. Those footpads will not play by the same rules as your London fencing club. You must be ready for all !’ She put a hand up and slapped his shoulder in a brotherly fashion. ‘Do you know, I truly think you are a sportsman in the making.’

Hedley looked startled. Had his ruse been discovered already?

She added, seeing his shock, ‘Oh, not quite yet! But when I adjusted your seat this morning on Proudfoot—’ Hedley had to think what she was talking of and then remembered Sally the mare’s alternative name ‘—you seemed to have an innate grace when you forgot yourself.’

He frowned. It was clear his acting skills lacked depth; he would have to apply himself.

‘And even with the foil in your left hand, you have a sort of balance. Don’t you think so, Pietro?’

The silent Neapolitan, who usually stood around exuding threat, met Hedley’s eyes then drew his brows together and upward in a scroll that read, ‘She might not know, but I do.’

Hedley nodded at him gravely in respect to him for keeping his mouth shut on the matter. The Neapolitan shrugged. ‘Unless you touch her, it is not my business,’ he was saying with the look. Both mistress and servant were straightforward, and Hedley appreciated that.

But her coming again to the house without her maid was something he would have to prevent without hurting her feelings. She was not playing a game with him , but he was with her , that he knew. Having Morag with her the other day had made her installation in his salon without a female relative just about permissible because of the age and respectability of an upper servant who had plainly known the girl from birth. But Stephanie’s presence alone would not be so explicable to the World if it were to get out in the district.

‘Let us meet at the stables tomorrow. I have friends coming for dinner and to stay a while,’ Hedley said. Pettigrew was quite right; his friends could hardly be consigned to cupboards whenever she came.

‘You do not wish me in the house,’ she said directly. ‘I understand!’

‘It is not that!’ he apologised. ‘I should like nothing more—’

‘But I’m not even out yet!’ she protested, though almost to herself. ‘It would only be like Tabitha or Berthe visiting you.’

‘Your sisters … what ages are they?’

‘Eight and twelve years.’

‘But you….’

‘Seventeen!’

‘Yes, and not interested in gentlemen, I think, any more than Tabitha or Berthe are. But the World would say you are now a young lady.’

‘Even Mama does not say that !’

‘She certainly dressed you as a young London lady.’

‘So as not to stand out! But you did not see the secret of that pelisse I wore. It has a slash at the back like a gentleman’s driving coat, hidden beneath the gathers, in case I might suddenly want to ride or drive myself or leap from a bridge without getting my feet caught up in my skirts.’

‘Leap from a bridge?’ he asked, distracted again.

‘I once did so to save a child who had fallen in the Thames,’ Stephanie said as though in an aside.

‘Ah!’

‘But the point is, my mama did not have my clothes constructed for having tea in London drawing rooms. That is for young ladies like Roseanna and Phoebe, but not for me. Not for a long time will I have to…!’

Hedley realised that her voice was rising a little. She plainly loathed the thought that soon she would be expected to join in her sister’s pursuits. This fearless girl was even afraid of it, he thought. He pitied her.

‘Your eyes are so warm and friendly,’ she said suddenly and naturally. ‘They remind me of my father’s eyes.’

Again Hedley was both stunned and made fearful by that honesty. Like her behaviour, her tongue had no lock on it; nor, it seemed, had anyone tried to teach her to rein in voicing her thoughts aloud. Or did she do as she wished, and if someone tried to imprison her words she just used Tabitha’s key to let herself escape?

He would protect her from scandal, he determined. And therefore, even though he knew it was increasingly dangerous, he would continue his amusement. It would be too dreadful if he did not learn about the rest of her family, including a child who had made a lock pick at age eight, and it would be too dreadful if he never knew what else Stephanie had done that made the bridge story a mere commonplace. He could not end it yet.