The idea that someone might attempt to gain access to Prospect House during the night remained with Molly, but by the time she reached home that night, it was far too late to send a note. She would speak to Fleur and Nancy at church the next morning.
* * *
The day dawned bright and sunny, so she remained near the lychgate, greeting her neighbours while she watched the road, waiting to see the ladies and girls from Prospect House walking to morning service.
The carriages from Newlands were amongst the first to arrive: Sir Gerald and Beau Russington in the chaise with Miss Kilburn, Lord Claydon and his family in a smart barouche and Mr Sykes driving up in his curricle with his wife sitting beside him. Molly’s first thought was relief that Sir Joseph and Mr Flemington were absent, because after the conversation she had heard last night she did not think she could be polite to them. It was difficult enough to pin a smile in place to greet the beau. She managed it, but wished he would move on, instead of standing aside while she greeted the other members of the party, and as they strolled away he stepped closer.
‘There,’ he murmured, ‘that was not so very bad, was it?’
His low voice and the smile in his eyes sent a delicious shiver through Molly and made her toes curl, but not for the world would she let him see how much he affected her.
She replied frostily, ‘I have no difficultly in being civil.’
His brows went up. ‘What a corker. Admit it, your first thought, when you saw me approaching, was to scurry away and hide.’
It was so near the truth that Molly blushed, but she laughed, too, and shook her head at him.
‘That may be the case, but it is very uncivil of you to say so.’
‘Odd, is it not, that we should be able to be so frank with each other? As if we were old friends.’
She looked up at him then. ‘My dear sir, how on earth could you and I ever be friends?’
He smiled at her, a strange, arrested look on his face.
‘The rake and the reformer? There have been more unlikely alliances, you know.’
He was smiling down at her and Molly’s breath caught in her throat. The world tilted, as if every belief she held was suddenly in doubt.
‘There can be no question of it in this case,’ she managed at last.
She saw Nancy entering the churchyard and with no little relief she gave the beau a dismissive nod and turned to greet her.
‘Thank heavens,’ she said, holding out her hands. ‘I have been waiting for you to arrive.’
‘We would have been earlier, but for a little scare that Marjorie’s baby was coming,’ said Nancy. ‘The signs passed off, but Daisy has stayed with her and Moses, too, ready to fetch the midwife if necessary.’ She smiled and put her hand on Billy’s shoulder. ‘So we have this young man for our escort today.’
Molly smiled at Billy and took the time to exchange a word with the little maids, but it was only when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Russ saunter away that she could at last bring her chaotic thoughts into some sort of order. She linked arms with Nancy as they walked towards the church door and quickly explained what she had overheard last night.
‘Edwin says it is nothing more than bluster, but you must take care,’ she ended, just as they reached the door.
‘We have been taking care ever since they came to Newlands, my dear. Moses checks the locks and the shutters around the house every night.’ Nancy signalled to the others to go inside. ‘But I fear we may have a more pressing problem than night-time prowlers.’
Molly followed her glance and saw that Fleur was coming slowly up the path with Sir Gerald beside her. They were talking earnestly, Sir Gerald in no wise disheartened by Fleur’s veil. Neither did he show any signs of self-consciousness when he saw Nancy and Molly waiting at the door. His greeting could not have been more cordial.
‘Good morning to you, Sir Gerald,’ Molly responded with equal cheerfulness, but shamefully less sincerity. ‘The rest of your party are already inside.’
‘Yes? Oh—yes. That is, they have gone on ahead of me.’ Another smile, a touch of his hat and he went in, leaving Fleur with her friends. Her veil might hide her blushes, but it could not disguise the defensive note in her voice as she explained they had met by chance at the gate.
‘He was waiting for you.’
‘Oh, no, Nancy, surely not—’
‘How else could it be, when the Newlands carriages have been here for a good half hour? ’Tis a pity Moses did not come with us today—he would have put a stop to it.’
‘Perhaps Sir Gerald had something to discuss with his coachman,’ said Molly, taking pity on Fleur. She linked arms with them both, saying cheerfully, ‘Come along, we had best take our places inside. Edwin will be wanting to begin!’
* * *
It was a bright morning and after the service the congregation gathered outside the church, exchanging greetings and catching up on gossip. Molly saw Sir Gerald edging away from his friends, but Nancy was already taking Fleur’s arm and hurrying her and the rest of the girls down the path very much like a mother hen protecting her brood from a fox. She wished she could go, too, instead of having to wait for her brother, who was standing a little apart, deep in conversation with two of his churchwardens. Thus she could not escape Miss Kilburn’s invitation for her and Edwin to join a little dinner party they were arranging the following week.
Molly demurred, saying that she must confer with Edwin, although she was well aware that the only reason he would decline would be if there was a previous engagement that could not be rearranged. The Newlands party moved off towards the waiting carriages, the gentlemen tipping their hats to Molly as they passed. She acknowledged Russ’s polite nod with a faint, distant smile and turned away immediately to greet Sir William, who was coming up with his wife on his arm.
‘A good turnout, ma’am,’ he observed. ‘I am relieved. I did not want your brother blaming our little gathering last night for depleting his congregation.’ He glanced towards the line of carriages. ‘However, I note only two single gentlemen from Newlands came along today.’
Molly pursed her lips. ‘No doubt the others consider the restoration of their bodies more important than their souls.’
‘La, Mrs Morgan, that is too naughty of you!’ Lady Currick laughed and tapped her arm. ‘But it is to be expected from these young bucks, with their London habits. They carouse the night away and then sleep until noon! We must hope your brother can reform them.’
‘We must indeed,’ said Molly, forcing a smile. ‘But one cannot expect a leopard to change its spots, you know.’
* * *
‘Whoa, Flash.’
Russ brought the big grey hunter to a stand on the edge of a high ridge. He had no idea how long he had been riding, but a glance at the sun told him it was close to noon, so he must have been out for several hours. He had gone out early to try to shake off the unaccustomed restlessness that had come over him the past few days.
Perhaps he should go back to town. There were more entertainments there than at Newlands, but he knew that was not the answer. He had been growing bored with London life even before Gerald had invited him to come north. A shaft of self-mockery pierced him. He was regarded as a Corinthian, a top-of-the-trees sportsman and second only to Brummell as an arbiter of fashion. He had been indulged since birth, had more money than he could spend, the pick of society’s beautiful women and yet, at eight-and-twenty, he felt that life had nothing new to offer.
He knew he should feel grateful. Most second sons had to find an occupation, usually the army or the church, but he had been blessed with a rich godmother, who had left him her entire fortune. He was equally blessed in the fact that along with the investments and estates, he had inherited reliable staff and an astute man of business, who between them looked after his interests, leaving him nothing to do but enjoy himself. But lately he had found all his usual amusements had begun to pall. He had no desire for self-destruction. Gambling to excess held little attraction, nor did he wish to drink himself into oblivion.
He gazed out over the countryside spread out before him. He had ridden down into the valley where Compton Parva nestled and up on to the moors on the far side, so now he could look back towards Newlands with its extensive grounds and woodlands, but even the prospect of more hunting did not excite him.
‘Admit it,’ he said aloud. ‘You are bored. Bored with life.’
He allowed his eyes to travel down from Newlands to the valley below. The houses of Compton Parva straggled along each side of the winding valley road, burgeoning around the town square and the vicarage. He could see tiny figures moving in the square and traffic on the road. Everyone was going about their business, seemingly happy and content. So why could he not be happy?
Perhaps he should marry. His brother, Henry, had made a prudent match just after their mother had died, and now lived in quiet contentment on his country estates with his large family. Perhaps a wife would help to fill the aching void that Russ had become aware of. But he had never met any woman who could hold his interest for more than a few months. And most of—if not all—the women who came into his sphere were more interested in his fortune than in him. His father had made the mistake of falling in love with such a woman and he was not about to do the same.
He had learned much from those early days, when his father had brought home his beautiful new wife, who doted on him only as long as he lavished a fortune upon her. That was why, apart from one or two close friends such as Gerald Kilburn, Russ kept everyone else at a distance. Always polite, always charming, he was equally at home riding to hounds or in the salons of society hostesses. He was accepted everywhere, acclaimed as an excellent fellow and a perfect guest, but he never forgot that he owed his popularity to his wealth. He was happy to oblige any pretty woman who threw herself in his way in a fast and furious flirtation, but when his interest cooled he would leave them without a second thought.
‘So why is such a life suddenly not enough?’ he muttered.
At the sound of his master’s voice the big hunter pricked up his ears and sidled restlessly. Russ leaned forward to run a hand over the grey’s powerful neck.
‘I must be growing maudlin, Flash, and damned ungrateful, to have so much and yet want something more.’ He gathered up the reins and touched his heels to the hunter’s flanks. ‘Come up, boy. Let’s gallop off these fidgets, from both of us!’
* * *
Lady Currick might laugh at the idea of carousing rakes, but it did nothing to allay Molly’s fears and early the following morning she drove to Prospect House. She found Moses and Billy at work on the flower beds outside the drawing-room window.
‘Trampled, they was, ma’am,’ Moses told her. ‘In the night.’
Molly grew cold. ‘Intruders!’
‘Nay, ma’am, no one got in. I didn’t hear anything, my room bein’ at the back o’ the house, but someone was prowling around last night.’
Molly hurried inside, her imagination running wild with horrid scenes, but she found Fleur in her office, calmly writing up her ledgers. When Molly expressed her concerns she giggled, but refused to say anything more until she had summoned Nancy to join them in the drawing room.
‘I must not stay too long,’ said Nancy. ‘I have left Bridget making a potato pudding, but she will be at a loss to know how to dress the hog’s head when it is boiled. But where is your groom, Molly? Surely you did not come alone.’
‘The carriage horses needed shoeing and Gibson has taken them to the smith. And before you ask why I did not bring my maid, Cissy’s mother is still ailing and I have sent her home again for a few days to look after her.’ She waved an impatient hand. ‘Tell me quickly now, what happened here last night.’
‘Let us say we had visitors.’ Nancy went on quickly, ‘But the shutters were up and the doors bolted, so there was never any risk of them getting into the house.’
‘Oh, heavens!’
‘They were not housebreakers, Molly,’ Fleur assured her. ‘We could make out their white neckcloths and waistcoats quite clearly in the moonlight.’
‘You saw them?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Nancy nodded. ‘The first I knew of it was when Bridget came to tell me that she could hear someone on the drive.’
‘And did the puppy not bark?’ asked Molly.
Nancy shook her head. ‘He is not yet fully house-trained, so Moses keeps him shut in the cellar at night. Shortly after Bridget had woken me, I heard gravel being thrown against the bedroom windows. Mine and Fleur’s. I was thankful they did not make their way to the back of the house and disturb Marjorie, she is so close to her time now she is finding it difficult enough to sleep as it is! It was two of the men—I will not credit them with the label of gentlemen—from Newlands. We had seen them in the market, but we did not learn their names.’
Fleur said quickly, ‘Nancy and I both saw them, Molly. It was definitely not Sir Gerald.’
Nancy nodded. ‘It was the very tall, thin one.’
‘Sir Joseph Aikers,’ said Molly. ‘And...and can you describe the other one?’
‘He was much shorter,’ said Fleur, ‘but he had a horrid laugh.’
‘Like a girl giggling?’ Molly was aware of an inordinate amount of relief when Fleur nodded. ‘That will be Mr Flemington.’
So Russ was not involved. Molly told herself it meant nothing, he might well be aware of this night-time escapade. For all she knew he might have suggested it to his companions.
‘I saw their open carriage on the lane,’ Nancy went on, her lip curling. ‘Heaven knows how they managed to get to us without overturning it, for they were so drunk they could barely stand.’
‘Why did you not fetch Moses to see them off?’ asked Molly.
‘That was not necessary, we saw to it ourselves.’
‘Nancy! You did not go down to them!’
‘No, no, nothing like that. It is best you do not know, Molly, for it was not at all ladylike.’
Nancy’s eyes were positively sparkling with mischief now and a gurgle of laughter escaped from Fleur.
‘We put up the window and told them to be off, but they were too drunk to do anything but fall about, crushing all the flowers, which made Nancy very angry, because we had worked so hard to plant them all in the spring.’
‘So how did you get them to go away?’ asked Molly, intrigued.
‘Nancy suggested they should serenade her, under her window, so we persuaded them to move across to the little bay at the end of the house.’
‘But that is the landing window,’ said Molly, confused.
‘I wanted them away from the flower beds,’ muttered Nancy. ‘Besides, that window juts out over the drive.’
‘Is that important?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Molly, thoroughly exasperated. ‘Tell me!’
‘We waited until they were both singing their hearts out, then we emptied the contents of our chamber pots out of the window.’
Nancy and Fleur collapsed into giggles and, after struggling against it, Molly joined them, relieved of her worries, at least for a while. When Nancy had returned to the kitchens Molly went upstairs to visit Marjorie, who was embroidering a little gown for her baby, whenever it should appear. Then she went off with Fleur to speak with Moses about the harvest and talk to the other girls, who were collecting apples from the orchards.
However, when Molly set off from the house it was not Marjorie’s imminent confinement, nor the excellent progress that occupied her mind, but last night’s occurrence. Nancy might laugh at what had happened and say they were very well able to look after themselves with Billy and Moses to help, but Molly wondered if perhaps another manservant should be hired. Billy was only ten years old and, although he was very useful around the farm, he was far too young to be thought of as a protector.
Indignation welled up inside her as she slowed the gig to negotiate a tight corner. No protector had been needed before Sir Gerald and his friends came to Newlands! As if conjured by her thoughts, she rounded the bend to see Beau Russington sitting at the side of the road, his horse quietly cropping the grass close by. She pulled up the gig beside him.
‘Are you hurt, sir?’
He rose gingerly. ‘I think not. I was enjoying a gallop along this stretch of open grassland when the girth broke.’ He began to brush off his coat. ‘If I had been paying attention, I would not have been thrown.’
Molly had been so intent upon the man that she had not noticed his horse was missing its saddle. A glance showed it lying on the ground a little distance away. She gave Russ another look. He appeared decidedly pale.
‘I will take you back to Newlands,’ she told him. ‘Can you manage to tie your horse to the back of the gig? And I am sure we can find somewhere to put the saddle.’
Five minutes later they had set off, Molly keeping a steady but slow pace.
‘I do not want to put your horse under stress,’ she explained. ‘Nor do I wish to subject you to more jolting than necessary.’
‘Your concern is very comforting, Mrs Morgan.’
‘I would do the same for anyone, Mr Russington.’
‘There is no need to show hackle, madam, I was being quite sincere.’
‘Were you?’
Russ observed her sceptical look and his lips twitched.
‘I thought we had agreed to be civil to one another,’ he remarked. ‘That resolution did not last long.’
‘As I told you, it was conditional upon you deserving civility.’
‘Oh? And what is it I am meant to have done?’ He twisted around so that he could look at her, resting his arm along the back of the seat. Several unruly dark curls were peeping beneath her bonnet and he was tempted to tug at one of them, but the frowning look upon her face gave him pause.
‘Come, madam, to my knowledge I have done nothing to warrant your disapproval.’
‘Not you, perhaps, but your friends.’
‘Oh? Would you care to explain?’
‘They...called, last night. At Prospect House. They were intoxicated.’
He frowned. He and Gerald had stayed up talking until gone midnight.
‘Are you sure it was anyone from Newlands?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She threw him a swift, angry glance. ‘The ladies—and they are ladies, despite what you might think!—recognised them. They remembered seeing them with Sir Gerald at the market. Once they had described them to me I knew it was Sir Joseph and Mr Flemington.’
‘Damned fools!’ He straightened in his seat. ‘How much harm did they do?’
‘Apart from the inconvenience, and unsettling everyone, very little. They trampled a flower bed.’
Watching her, Russ saw a sudden lightening of her countenance.
‘What was so amusing, Mrs Morgan?’
He was surprised when she gave him a look brimful of mischief.
‘Nancy and Fleur paid them well for their impudence.’
‘Go on.’
‘They emptied their chamber pots over them.’
Russ was silent for one stupefied moment, then he put back his head and roared with laughter.
‘Well, that explains something,’ he said, when at last he could command his voice. ‘When I came downstairs this morning the valet was just coming out of Flemington’s room with his master’s clothes bundled in his arms and there was a distinct smell of the privy surrounding him.’
She shook her head. ‘I beg your pardon. It is most improper that I should have told you.’
‘It is most improper that they should be skulking around Prospect House at night!’
‘Yes.’ Her brow furrowed again and he felt a twinge of regret that she was no longer full of merriment. ‘It was most reprehensible. And it could be very damaging. You see, Prospect House can only continue here if it keeps its reputation as a respectable establishment. Which is why this escapade of your so-called friends does not help at all.’
He wanted to tell her that they were no friends of his, nor were they long-standing friends of Kilburn, if truth were told. Aikers and Flemington had been on the town for years, but had only recently become friendly with Gerald. Russ had never liked them, but he gave a mental shrug. He was only a guest at Newlands, after all. He could do little about it. He glanced at her, suddenly curious.
‘Why are you so passionate about Prospect House?’
‘It is impossible not to be touched by the plight of the women there. Not that I expect you to understand that.’
‘No?’ He turned to look at her again, once more resting his hand along the back. ‘I might understand better, if you were to explain it. Believe me, I have no ulterior motive, madam, only curiosity. You say some of them are ladies?’
‘Fleur and Nancy’s birth is equal to yours or mine, Mr Russington, but circumstances made it necessary for them to quit their homes.’
‘Tell me about the others,’ he invited, enjoying the animation that lit her countenance when she spoke of these women.
‘Well, there is Betty, a gentleman’s daughter who was cast out of her home after being persuaded to elope with a plausible gentleman. He took her only as far as the next town, where he abandoned her, and when she tried to return to her family, they disowned her.’
‘That is very sad, I agree, but what hope can you give her for the future?’
‘She is well educated and I am not unhopeful of finding her a place. In a girls’ school, perhaps. For now, she helps out in the charity school my brother has set up. And Bridget, who helps Nancy in the kitchens. She is the widow of a sailor. She was left destitute and found her way to us. Daisy and her son, Billy, were turned out when her employer discovered she was not married. Then there’s Marjorie. She was earning her living as a seamstress until an encounter with a so-called gentleman. He promised her the earth and she believed him, until she discovered he had a wife and he left her penniless, alone and with child. Now she makes clothes for the house and for us to sell in the market. She also teaches the others how to sew.’ She was at ease now and eager to tell him more. ‘One of Marjorie’s protégées now works for Miss Hebden, in the town. And a couple more are looking promising—two housemaids who were both thrown on to the streets after being seduced and have horrific tales to tell. One lost her baby and without a character she has been unable to find more work. The other, Ruth, left her newborn son at the foundling hospital—’
‘In London!’
‘Yes. She was affianced to a sailor, the father of her child, but after he had gone back to sea she discovered he had tricked her and had no intention of returning. Then she met another man, who promised her if she went with him they would go back for the baby. Instead he brought her here, to the north, and abandoned her in Compton Magna. Her intelligence is not high, but her needlework is exquisite. Marjorie has put a plan to me that I hope the committee might approve—once her baby is born we might set her up in a little shop in one of the bigger towns, such as Harrogate, which is becoming quite fashionable. Then the other two girls could live and work with her. We might even be able to have Ruth’s baby returned to her.’
‘Quite an ambition.’
‘But not impossible. The girls are all hard-working and determined to improve themselves. They merely need a little help.’
She fell quiet and he prompted her with another question.
‘Where do these women come from? How do you find them?’
‘Some of them find us, but usually Edwin comes upon them through his work. Some, like Ruth, are displaced and the parish will not help them.’ She sighed. ‘It is much worse in the cities, of course, but even in a small town like Compton Parva there are many who need our help. Cissy, my own maid, for example, was seduced by a travelling man and abandoned. If Edwin had not agreed to employ her she would have had to leave the town.’ Molly paused as she slowed the gig. ‘Heavens, we are already at the gates of Newlands. I beg your pardon to have rattled on so. You must be thoroughly bored with my chattering about people you do not know.’
‘Not at all.’ Russ was surprised to find it was the truth. He added quietly, ‘I understand now why you are so prejudiced against our sex, Mrs Morgan.’
‘I do not think I am prejudiced,’ she responded. ‘There are very many good people in the world. The townsfolk of Compton Parva, for example, are in the main very generous. I admit that I am cautious, although I hope I am fair-minded. I believe one should judge a man on his deeds.’
‘But you judged the party at Newlands before you had even met us,’ he challenged her. ‘You know very little about Kilburn. Or about me.’
Molly kept her eyes fixed on the winding drive and did not speak until she had brought the gig to a halt at the steps of the house.
‘I know you are a dangerous man, Mr Russington.’
‘Dangerous?’ He sounded genuinely surprised. ‘What makes you say that?’
She turned towards him, determined to be honest. ‘You are...a danger to women.’
Those sensuous lips curved upwards and she felt the devastating force of his smile.
‘I could take that as a compliment.’
She had to fight the urge to smile back. ‘I did not mean it so.’
He shook his head. ‘I have never forced my attentions upon a woman.’
No, he would not have to, she thought, taking in the dark brown eyes, the curling black hair and the lean handsome face. He had the lithe grace of a cat, the body of an athlete. He only had to walk into a room for all eyes to turn towards him. She had seen it for herself, the way the ladies looked at him and not only the young, unmarried ones.
‘Can you also be sure you have never broken a woman’s heart?’
‘I have never set out to do so. In most cases, the ladies fall in love with my fortune.’
The smile was still there, but it no longer charmed Molly. Now it was full of self-mockery.
She said quietly, ‘Then I am very sorry for you.’
She knew she had surprised him. His eyes became dark and unreadable and she braced herself for some withering remark. It never came. Instead he looked over her shoulder and she heard the scrunch of footsteps on the gravel.
‘I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting, ma’am, Mr Russington.’
Sir Gerald’s butler was hurrying towards them, but he was overtaken by the master of the house demanding to know what had happened. The moment was lost and Molly could not be sorry—the mood between her and Russ had grown too serious.
‘I took a tumble when the girth broke, Kilburn. No harm done and Mrs Morgan kindly brought me home.’
Russ gave her a rueful smile and climbed down from the gig while Sir Gerald barked orders for the horse and the damaged saddle to be taken to the stables. Until this was done Molly could not drive off, but she refused Sir Gerald’s invitation to step inside, explaining that she needed to get back to the vicarage.
‘But surely you can spare five minutes,’ Sir Gerald pressed her. ‘You must give Russ the chance to thank you properly.’
She glanced at the beau, standing beside his friend and a laugh bubbled up. She said sweetly, ‘Mr Russington will need to change out of his muddy clothes, Sir Gerald, and I really cannot wait while his valet restores him. I am sure it will take an hour, at least.’
Sir Gerald gave a shout of laughter, and Russ’s lips formed the word witch, although his eyes were gleaming.
‘Very true,’ he said gravely. He reached out for her hand. ‘We have one rescue apiece now, Mrs Morgan. Shall we cry quits?’ He added softly, ‘Shall we cry friends?’
Her fingers were wrapped in a strong, warm grasp, his eyes were smiling at her. She felt no alarm, no fear, only comfort. She smiled.
‘Very well, Mr Russington.’
‘If we are truly friends you should call me Russ, but perhaps that would raise a few eyebrows.’
‘It certainly would! Out of the question, sir.’
‘Quite.’ He released her hand, but their eyes remained locked for a moment longer, then he stepped away. ‘Off you go, then, Mrs Morgan. I hope you reach home without further mishap.’
She set the gig rolling, urging the horse on until they were trotting away along the drive. She did not look back, but her heart felt lighter than it had done for weeks.
She had just made friends with a rake.