Chapter 8

Much to Lady Jane's disappointment the Earl decreed they would leave the masquerade after that dance. Mr Silverthorne was clearly furious with everyone, and throwing accusations indiscriminately. As they made their way towards the front door they saw Ruth, in tears, being led upstairs by an elderly lady carrying both their masks. The young man who had hit George, Ruth's brother, was watching them, but when George appeared, brushed down and escorted by two of Mr Silverthorne's servants, he turned to sneer at George, and it was only because the servants restrained him that he did not lash out again.

Mr Silverthorne then arrived, still fuming. 'Haven't you gone yet? You are no longer welcome in my house, and if I find you contacting my daughter you'll be sorry! As for you, Daniel, get to your room. You've done your best to ruin the party.'

As his son began to climb the stairs after his sister Mr Silverthorne turned and saw the Earl and his party clearly waiting to leave. He took a deep breath.

'What's this? Going already? It's early.' He was clearly trying to sound jovial, but the underlying anger was obvious.

The Earl seized Eugenie's arm and pulled her towards him, then slipped his arm round her waist and hissed to her, 'Pretend to feel faint.' He turned back to the banker. 'My apologies, sir, but the young lady is unwell, we need to get her home, and I cannot leave her sisters here alone.'

Eugenie bit her lip. It was bad enough to have suddenly acquired several sisters, but to pretend such weakness did not appeal to her at all. However, the Earl's arm was strong, his grip unrelenting, so she obeyed him and drooped so much he was virtually carrying her as they left the house.

'The carriage won't be here for an hour,' Arabella said.

'There are plenty of hackneys. Emily and John and Frederick can take one, and we'll come back to Grosvenor Square with you and Eugenie, before going home.'

'Thank you. I'm sorry, Jane, that your masquerade party ended so unfortunately.'

'I suppose George is making up to Ruth Silverthorne. He was angry with me when I refused to run away with him to Gretna Green. He called me weak and silly.'

'You were not at all silly to refuse such a suggestion, and no gentleman would have made it,' Arabella said. 'If the Duke did not already have such a poor opinion of his son he would be even more angry. He will be furious when I tell him of this latest disaster.'

'But will they really fight?'

'Not if we can find some way to prevent it!'

*

On the following afternoon Eugenie was sitting by the fire in the Duke's study, reading. It was raining heavily, so she had delayed her shopping expedition to Bond Street. She looked up when Compton came to announce a visitor to see her Grace. Who would venture out on such a day?

'My lady is in bed, unwell,' the butler said. 'Shall I bring the young lady to see you?'

'Who is it? Did she give a name?'

'Miss Ruth Silverthorne.'

'Miss – yes, bring her here.'

She had not taken much notice of Ruth at the masquerade, until the girl was being led upstairs. When Compton brought her into the study she looked closely at her. She had clearly been crying a good deal, her eyes were puffy, and it seemed as though she was struggling now not to burst into tears.

'Come in, Miss Silverthorne, and sit down. Some ratafia, please, Compton.'

The butler bowed himself out, but Ruth did not sit down. 'You can't be his Mama,' she said accusingly. 'Where is she?'

'Whose? George's? No, I am his cousin, Eugenie Daubney. His mother is dead, she died several years ago.'

'But, he – the butler – I don't understand. When I asked for her Grace, he didn't tell me that.'

'No, because, you see, George's father married again. But you wanted something? Do come and sit down.'

'Perhaps she would help me. Can I speak to her?'

'She is not feeling well, and is lying down. I won't have her disturbed, and I doubt there is anything she could do if you are here about this stupid duel.'

Slowly Ruth went to the seat opposite Eugenie's. She held her hands out to the fire, and when Compton came in with the rafatia accepted a glass with a faint smile.

'It's so cold out,' she said.

'Did you walk here?'

'Yes. I couldn't order the carriage, or my aunt would have wanted to know where I was going. So I slipped out of the kitchen door. It isn't very far, truly.'

'But your shoes, and your feet, are they not wet?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Take them off, and get warm. Then tell me what you wanted to see George's mother about.'

Ruth, with some difficulty, took off her half-boots, and breathed a sigh of relief.

'That's better. Yes, I came to ask his Mama to stop the duel. If one of them is killed, the other will have to flee the country, and it's too dreadful!'

'What has been happening?'

She took a deep breath. 'Two men, they were rough men, came this morning to see Daniel. He said they were George's seconds, and he had asked two of his friends to make arrangements with them. And then he went out, saying he needed some pistol practice. I think he went to somewhere called Manton's. And he borrowed some money from me, he said he would buy a pair of pistols, he would not trust any George provided.'

'Where is George staying? Do you know?'

'In Wapping. That's near the docks, I think, but I don't know his exact direction.'

'How does he get in touch with you? Does he write?'

'Yes, but because my Papa will not permit him to come to the house, he gives one of the maids a sixpence to bring a letter to me.'

'If he is not permitted in the house, how did he come to the masquerade?'

'Well, he was masked. Papa would not have recognised him if they had not fought. Oh, please, Miss Daubney, how can we stop the duel?'

Eugenie was thinking hard. 'When, and where, do they plan to hold it?'

'It will be tomorrow morning, so there is little time! I'm not sure where, somewhere near Hackney, I think. By the marshes.'

'Hackney? Where is that?'

'Oh, it's past the City, to the north.'

'And these marshes? It sounds an odd place for a duel.'

'There's a river. And not many houses. And it's easier for both of them to get to than somewhere like Paddington Green or Wimbledon. George doesn't have a carriage, neither does Daniel, nor his friends. And those men,' she shuddered, 'who are George's friends, looked like watermen, they would not have one. Please can you help?'

'Why do you not tell your father? He could ensure that Daniel does not leave the house.'

'Lock him in his room, you mean?'

'If necessary, yes.'

'But he would be fearfully angry! He would stop Daniel's allowance, and make him go and work in the bank at once. And Daniel says he would run away if that happened. But he would have been shamed as a coward if he did not turn up. I could not bear that!'

'Does he work anywhere now?'

'He is writing a drama. Papa paid to have some of his poems published, and was proud of him, but unfortunately they did not take. Papa said he could have one last chance, but I am afraid that if this drama is not a success Daniel will be forced to join the bank anyway.'

Eugenie did not know what else to suggest. 'I will tell my uncle when he comes home, and he may be able to prevent it. At least we now know where George is living, and my uncle's men may be able to find him.'

'Thank you! I had better go home now.'

She began to tug on her half-boots.

'Have you enough money for a hackney?' Eugenie asked.'

'Yes, I kept what money I had for going home. I didn't have enough to take one both ways.'

Eugenie rang the bell for Compton to show Ruth out. She hoped her uncle would come home soon, so that he might find George and stop this duel.

*

The Duke did not return home, and sent word he would be dining at his club. Arabella, looking pale, came down to dinner, but ate very little. Eugenie was concerned, but Arabella told her not to worry.

'It's always like this for the first few months,' she said. 'I'm breeding again. What did Ruth Silverthorne want?'

'To try and stop this stupid duel. Are you hoping to have a boy this time?'

'Well, if George gets himself killed, it would be convenient!' Arabella said, and laughed. 'But I love them all, boys or girls.'

'Should we go back home? Ought you to be in town now?'

'I am all right. Don't worry. To be honest, I don't care about this duel, except for Jerome's sake. George has always been stupid. I doubt he could hit a target, and this Silverthorne boy probably can't either.'

Eugenie did not share her comfortable certainty, but knew she could do nothing. Wild thoughts of emulating the heroine of a romance she had read, finding her way to these Hackney marshes and throwing herself at the combatants to stop the fight were not only impracticable, since she did not know where in the marshes, which were probably extensive, the duel was to take place, but this tactic would only work if they were fighting with swords. She supposed she could inform on them to the constables, since duelling was now illegal, but she did not think they would take much notice of her, as she could not supply enough accurate details.

She spent a sleepless night, and went down to breakfast still feeling sleepy. To her astonishment she discovered the Duke and the Earl seated at the breakfast table. The Earl took a cup and poured coffee which he set before her.

'What will you eat?' he asked.

'Oh, just toast,' she said. 'Why are you here?'

'We've had a busy morning.'

The Duke took pity on her look of puzzlement. 'We went to stop the duel,' he explained. 'Hugh here forced the Silverthorne lad to tell him where it was to take place, and we went there with a few others. Daniel is back at home, and George is on his way to Castle Tempus, where he will be confined until he agrees to behave himself.'

'You mean, kept in prison?'

She wondered whether any of the old dungeons in the ruined castle were still in use. The Duke seemed to read her mind.

'Not locked up,' he said, laughing. 'He has a new valet and a new groom. Both are former pugilists, and despite that they are intelligent men. Between them he will have no opportunity of escaping and coming back to London, or of trying to cajole any more young heiresses to elope with him.'

'He will hate that.' She was thinking of the time, a few weeks hence, when they would be returning to Castle Tempus themselves. George would be angry and resentful, impossible to live with. Once more the Duke seemed to know what she was thinking.

'Don't worry, he will be free to do as he wishes, ride or drive out, but he will have his own rooms, and will not spend time with us. I know I have been optimistic before, but some day he must grow up! Perhaps this latest exploit and the real risk of being killed will have sobered him.'

Eugenie happened to glance at the Earl and surprised a look of scepticism on his face. He clearly did not share the Duke's optimism. He smiled and asked her to drive out with him that afternoon.

'Thank you, yes. I'm glad the rain has stopped.'

She wondered whether to tell them of Ruth Silverthorne's visit yesterday, and decided Compton probably would, so she told them how worried Daniel's sister had been. The Duke nodded, and said he already knew.

'She's a pleasant lass. She cares for her brother. Now forgive me, I must go and see how Arabella is.'

He left the room and the Earl refilled their coffee cups.

'I discovered that Daniel has been taught to shoot by a friend of his father's, and is considered a very good shot,' he remarked, 'so it is fortunate we were able to stop the duel, or I fear George would no longer be with us.'

'I didn't know that. Ruth said he was going to Manton's to practise, and buy a pair of pistols.'

'Let us hope he does not find another excuse for using them.'

*

The Earl said little until they were in the Park, and he had let his team trot quickly towards the far side. Then he brought them to a halt and turned to face Eugenie.

'I am going back to France next week,' he said. 'I expect to be there for a while, but I'll be back before Christmas.'

'I wish I could come with you!'

He laughed. 'Surely not, sleeping in the open, on the ground, with only streams to wash in?'

Eugenie was blushing. It had been an involuntary exclamation, and she was not really sure herself why she had said it. She certainly did not wish to experience again the danger and discomfort of her journey from Switzerland, and the menial work she had been forced to do in order to survive. But despite the danger she had enjoyed the journey from Paris, and she admitted to herself it had been Hugues' company that had made it enjoyable. She tried to think of him as the Earl, but somehow she normally thought of him as her rescuer from Paris.

'Well, no, but I shall worry about your safety.'

'And your presence might make it safer for me?'

She laughed. 'No, it would not, for you would be concerned about my safety. I think it was the freedom of wearing breeches that I enjoyed, and not having to take heed of what a chaperone would say.'

'Surely Arabella is not a severe chaperone?'

'I don't think she considers herself a chaperone. We are more like sisters, and I am very fond of her. I will be sorry when it is possible for me to go and live at my own home, for then I will have to employ a proper chaperone.'

'You will be able to choose. You need not employ a dragon such as I have to employ for my sister.'

'Will Lady Jane stay in London while you are gone?'

'No. I am taking her home tomorrow, for apart from not wishing her to be on her own, despite the dragon, I do not wish her to know I have left London. She will assume I am still here. And I am trusting you not to mention where I am going to anyone, not even your uncle, for one never knows what servants may hear and innocently reveal to the wrong people.'

'Of course I will not speak of it. But by the time you are back we will have gone down to Castle Tempus. It will be weeks, possibly months, until I see you again. Arabella will not be coming to London for the Season next year.'

'But you will have a chaperone, you could use your uncle's house, or hire a smaller one of your own.'

Eugenie was thoughtful. This was something she had not considered, but being in London, where she would see the Earl, would be far preferable to being alone at Beechcotes.

'How do I find a chaperone?' she asked.

'I expect Arabella will know of some indigenous distant relative, either of yours or hers, who would be willing.'

'Yes. It is not an enticing prospect.'

'Are you ready to go back to Grosvenor Square?'

Eugenie shook her head. 'I would like to drive round a little longer. This will be the last time I will see you until the start of the Season,' she added wistfully.

'Well, perhaps not. Your uncle has invited me to Castle Tempus for Christmas, but I must spend it with Jane. He is arranging a small house party, and I suspect he will be inviting a few young men to entertain you.'

'For me to choose a husband! I suspect he is disappointed I have not met anyone in London. Arabella has been energetic in providing some here.'

'You have no preferences?'

'No. They all seem so young! As though they have just left school.'

'Then you will have to settle for an old man.' He laughed.

She did not reply, and they drove round the Park for a while. It was cold, and the wind was keen, so they did not meet many other people, and almost no one was walking or riding. At last Eugenie shivered, and reluctantly agreed it was time to go home. She would become accustomed, she thought, to not seeing Hugues almost every day.

*

A week later the Duke said he intended taking Arabella and Eugenie home to Castle Tempus.

'She is far from well, and if we remain in London she will insist on arranging and attending social events.'

'Not on my behalf, I hope,' Eugenie said. 'I don't want her to try and do too much.'

'No, my dear, it's not for you alone. She feels that while I am involved in either Parliament or this election she has to support me.'

'I feel so much worse than ever before,' Arabella confessed later. 'They say it could be because I am carrying a boy this time. I hope they have it right. But it means you will miss so much.'

'I really do not mind,' Eugenie tried to reassure her. 'I can come to London for the Season, if I can hire a suitable chaperone. Have you any suggestions?'

'Well, there is my Aunt Emily, who is always eager for invitations to stay, so that she can save on her own household expenses, but I wouldn't wish her on you. And Jerome has some distant cousin, but I think that is the one who carries around a veritable pharmacopoeia, and has a different medical symptom or condition every day.'

Eugenie laughed. 'I don't think I want her. Perhaps I should advertise.'

'Not yet. We can surely think of someone who would be suitable, and not fret you to death.'

No one was found before they set off in the big travelling coach. The Duke insisted they must take three days on the road, though he accepted that the children and their attendants would go ahead with the servants, since Arabella insisted they would be bored and miserable if cooped up in the coach for too long.

'We can trust the servants,' she said, and the Duke, anxious not to upset her, agreed, but privately made arrangements for a pair of extra footmen, armed with pistols, to accompany them.

By the time they had seen to half the packing Arabella confessed she was more weary than usual, and gladly left Eugenie to supervise the remainder. Eugenie wondered whether to take all her new clothes, but decided it would be simpler to leave some if, as the Earl had suggested, she hired a smaller house for the Season. She could retrieve them at the time. The Duke might be in Grosvenor Square while Parliament was sitting, but she would feel happier to be in a smaller house which was her own.

Ought she to purchase a London house of her own? She had enough money, for much of what had been stolen by Tonks had been recovered, thanks to the efforts of the Duke and his men.

'No, hire one first,' Arabella advised. 'You don't know London well enough to know where best to buy, and during the Season you can consider. Besides, you may get married and then there would be no need.'

Eugenie shook her head. She had received two offers during the Little Season, but had had no hesitation in rejecting both. They had been suitable, pleasant men, not a great deal older than she was, and wealthy, but neither of them had appealed to her. Was she especially nice in her requirements? No. She knew what it was that prevented her from accepting them. No man she had yet encountered was in the least comparable to her Parisian rescuer. She could scarcely admit that to Arabella, though, so she changed the subject.

The journey back to Castle Tempus was tedious, and both Arabella and Eugenie were thankful to reach home. It had rained continuously, grown dark early each day, and the hotels where they stayed were comfortable but characterless. All of them grew tired of playing cards, but that and reading were almost the only occupations available to them. Arabella regretted not bringing her embroidery, but she had thoughtlessly packed it in the trunk which was being taken in the other coach.

'I am losing my brain as well as my figure,' she said, laughing. 'I shall be so very thankful when this child is born.'

The Duke smiled at her. 'I shall for your sake, my dear. Now, you must go straight to bed and I will have supper sent up to you. Do you want to do the same, Eugenie? Or will you keep me company?'

'I'm not ready for bed,' Eugenie said. 'I suppose I am in the same room?'

This time, though, with George being closely supervised by his guardians, she did not expect to be disturbed by clandestine happenings in the castle ruins.

*

Very soon Christmas was upon them, and the girls became excited.

'I sometimes wish I was their age,' Arabella said. 'They have so few matters to fret over apart from what presents they will receive, and what games to play.'

Both she and Eugenie had been busy making clothes for the dolls the girls were to receive.

Some neighbours had been invited to dinner on Christmas day, after the attendance at the village church. On the day before the gardeners had brought greenery into the house, boughs of fir and hawthorn, and Eugenie and George had helped arrange these in the hall and drawing room. There were also some bunches of mistletoe, and George, laughing, said he intended to steal a kiss with Mary Parker, the young daughter of the Rector.

'It's a Christmas custom, and her mother, who tries to keep her away from every man in the area, cannot object. And if I read young Mary correctly she will be only too eager.'

'Is she an heiress?' Eugenie asked.

'Of course not, but it isn't only heiresses I kiss! I might even kiss you if you stand under the bunch, even if you do give me one of your disapproving looks.'

Eugenie laughed. George was being surprisingly cooperative, but she had doubts whether he had really changed his ways.

At church on Christmas day, where the service was short because the Rector did not indulge in his normal lengthy sermon, they sang some Christmas hymns, and afterwards greeted all their neighbours. They would see many of them during the following twelve days. The gentry were invited to dinner. The tenants would be coming to pay their rents on the following day, and the servants and others who had done work for the Duke would be given their own presents.

Arabella had explained the games which were planned. Some Eugenie remembered from her own childhood before they went to Switzerland.

'But I am not permitting the snapdragon game,' Arabella said. 'The girls become too excited and get their hands burnt.'

'How is that?'

'Don't you recall? Perhaps your parents were too cautious as well. There are raisins in a shallow dish of hot brandy, and the brandy is set alight. Players try to catch the raisins, without getting burnt.'

'It sounds difficult!'

'And dangerous. We don't have a yule log either, none of our fireplaces are large enough. I suppose they did in the castle, one fireplace there is as big as a small room. Cook has managed to find a turkey, though. Did you ever have it?'

'No. What is it like?'

'A large chicken. It came from America, and I suppose it has replaced the peacock they used to have centuries ago, though today we don't try to replace its feathers after it is cooked.'

Eugenie enjoyed her first English Christmas for ten years. Some of the celebrations she recalled from her own childhood, and some her parents had tried to keep up in Switzerland. She stood at the back of the entrance hall as the Duke welcomed his tenants and handed out the gifts to his servants. Rather to Eugenie's surprise George moved amongst them, appearing affable, but she was a little suspicious when he spent most of his time talking to a pair of men a little older than he was himself.

'Brothers,' Arabella told her. 'Dickon and Hal Weston. They have no regular work, they do odd jobs, help at harvest, and mending the roads. I think Dickon's wife Meg, she's talking to Cook, earns more than they do, she works at the Rectory. I believe George often played with them when he was a little boy, their cottage is one of the closest to the main gate.'

It was soon Twelfth Night, and the greenery, looking rather bedraggled by now, was taken out and burnt on a huge bonfire, and Eugenie wondered what the new year of 1813 held for her.

*