Regency High Society Vol 3: Beloved Virago / Lord Trenchard's Choice / The Unruly Chaperon / Colonel Ancroft's Love

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By early afternoon, when the hired carriage had pulled up outside her aunt and uncle’s charming house in Hampshire, Katherine had succeeded in thrusting the brief encounter with the disturbing stranger from her mind. After being admitted to the house by Meldrew, the very correct manservant, and discovering that both her aunt and cousin were at home, Katherine removed her outdoor garments and, leaving Bridie to take charge of the unpacking, went directly into the comfortable parlour where she discovered the two female members of the Wentworth family happily engaged in their favourite occupation.

Mrs Lavinia Wentworth, raising her head at the opening of the door, betrayed her delight by a warm smile. Setting aside her sewing, she was on her feet in an instant, her arms outstretched in welcome. ‘How lovely to see you, my dear!’ she announced, after placing a kiss on the face which so closely resembled her dear, departed sister’s.

After returning the embrace with equal warmth, Katherine turned to the only other occupant of the room, who betrayed no less delight at her arrival. ‘You look blooming, my dear Caro. Captain Charlesworth is a lucky man! I trust everything is in readiness for the party tonight?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Caroline assured her. ‘Mama and I have been busy all week finalising the arrangements. We are expecting around a hundred guests. And I’m so very glad that you are to be among them. When you failed to arrive yesterday, both Mama and I began to fear that you had changed your mind, and didn’t choose to risk making the journey, after all.’

Eyes glinting with unholy amusement, Katherine sat beside her pretty cousin on the sofa. ‘My, my! What a feeble creature you must think me! I might be almost three years your senior, Caroline, but I’m not in my dotage quite yet. No, it was merely that a threat of snow yesterday afternoon forced me to take shelter at a posting-house. That, and a desperate need to silence the dragon-lady’s continual carping.’

Knowing precisely to whom her niece had referred, Mrs Wentworth could not forbear a smile. Although Katherine had grown into the image of her lovely mother, she had inherited her wonderful dark auburn hair and blue-green eyes, made more striking by dusky brows and lashes, from her Irish father. She certainly favoured her sire in temperament too, for she possessed a fine Irish temper and could be quite outspoken on occasions. ‘Bridie has only your best interests at heart, Katherine,’ she remarked. ‘And I must confess that it has relieved my mind during these past years knowing that she has always been there to care for you.’

Katherine chose not to comment, for although she valued Bridie highly, there had been occasions, most especially in recent months, when she had found her loyal Irish maid’s continual cosseting increasingly irritating. So, instead, she changed the subject by enquiring into the whereabouts of Caroline’s elder brother. ‘Is Peter not here at present?’

‘No, he’s back at university, although he did spend Christmas with the family,’ Caroline enlightened her. ‘To be frank, I believe he was relieved to be going. I do not think he quite relished the prospect of having to aid Papa in entertaining the dowagers this evening.’

Katherine cast a glance brimful of wicked amusement in her aunt’s direction. ‘And does my esteemed uncle look forward to such an onerous duty, I cannot help asking myself?’ she remarked, knowing full well that Henry Wentworth, although a most agreeable, warmhearted gentleman, was not disposed to socialising to any very great extent.

Reaching for the tambour frame once again, Mrs Wentworth could only admire her niece’s perspicacity. ‘I think it would be more truthful to say that he is resigned to the task expected of him, Katherine. Unless I much mistake the matter, when he rode out a little earlier it was for the sole purpose of calling on a neighbour of ours, Sir Giles Osborne, in order to enlist the baronet’s aid.’

His wife’s suspicions were uncannily accurate, for Henry Wentworth had set out for Osborne House, and was at that moment enjoying a glass of burgundy in the company of his friend.

‘I have already assured you that I shall not fail to attend,’ Sir Giles answered in response to the heartfelt request. ‘My sister would never let me hear the end of it if we didn’t put in an appearance. We shall arrive promptly at eight, and you may rely upon my unfailing support.’

‘You’re a good friend, Osborne.’ Mr Wentworth tugged at his cravat, as though it had suddenly grown uncomfortably tight. ‘Don’t mind admitting that I’m not relishing the prospect of entertaining a pack of fiendish harridans.’

Sir Giles, a master at concealing both thoughts and emotions, permitted himself a thin smile. ‘The Dowager Lady Charlesworth is certainly a formidable matron. It is something of an enigma how she and that apathetic late husband of hers ever managed to produce two such well-balanced, engaging sons. I know you and Lavinia must be delighted with the match. Richard is an agreeable young man and a credit to his regiment.’

Unlike his sister, who enjoyed nothing better than a comfortable coze, Sir Giles only ever indulged in small talk when it was to his benefit to do so. Today, however, he was prepared to exert himself a little more than usual in an attempt to prevent his amiable neighbour from brooding unnecessarily over the ordeal ahead of him.

‘I have every faith in that charming wife of yours to be sure that everything will run smoothly this evening.’ There was no response, though Mr Wentworth, looking moderately more relaxed, did lean back in the chair and stretch his feet out towards the blazing fire. ‘I seem to remember my sister remarking that almost everyone who received an invitation has accepted. And the weather appears to be favouring you thus far.’

‘Yes, thank the Lord! At least we haven’t had snow, except …’ The worried frown returned. ‘My wife’s niece didn’t arrive yesterday as expected. Which makes me wonder whether the rest of the country is so fortunate, and bad weather might be heading our way.’

‘Had she far to travel?’ Sir Giles enquired, striving to maintain a polite show of concern, even though his interest in the unknown female was zero.

‘From Bath. My daughter will be very disappointed if she doesn’t arrive. Caroline simply adores her. My wife does too, come to that! Lavinia has been trying to persuade Katherine to make her home with us for the past twelve months, but without success. Still …’ he shrugged’… the girl seems happy enough to remain in the house left to her by her great-aunt. And it isn’t as if she’s a chit straight out of the schoolroom. She’ll attain the age of three-and-twenty later this year. And she doesn’t reside alone. There’s a companion living in the house, and an Irish maid who is devoted to her.’

‘Evidently her parents are dead,’ Sir Giles remarked, successfully stifling a yawn.

Henry Wentworth confirmed this with a solemn nod of his head. ‘Yes, it was all very sad. It so happens that her father was approached by the government to take a cargo of horses out to Portugal in readiness for the arrival of the British expeditionary force in the summer of ‘08. There was no better man at breeding or handling horses than Liam O’Malley. The craft he was on met up, as previously arranged, with two other vessels that had left England, also carrying urgently needed supplies. They were attacked by the French just off the Bay of Biscay.’

His expression changed, and he suddenly appeared more angry than sad. ‘Damn it! Where was the British Navy? Where was that promised protection, that’s what I’d like to know? Some damned mix-up at the Admiralty was what we were told! Apparently they had received information stating that the cargo vessels wouldn’t be setting sail for another ten days.’

Only for a moment did a speculative gleam flicker in the baronet’s steely-grey eyes as he digested these disturbing facts. ‘Yes, that does seem strange.’

‘Deuced odd!’ Mr Wentworth agreed. ‘My wife’s poor sister never recovered from the shock of losing her husband. She died a few weeks later after contracting a simple chill which went to her chest, and my father-in-law, Colonel Fairchild, went over to Ireland and brought Katherine back to live with him.’ Again he shook his head. ‘Poor little mite was just beginning to recover from her parents’ deaths when the Colonel suffered a fatal heart attack.’

‘Indeed, your niece is to be pitied,’ Sir Giles acknowledged, whilst momentarily wondering why the name Fairchild should seem vaguely familiar.

‘She was in Bath at the time. The old Colonel considered the girl was in dire need of a little polish, as you might say, and packed her off to live with his spinster sister so that she might attend a seminary. The house in Bath now belongs to Katherine, and she’s comfortably circumstanced. I can vouch for that, as I’m one of her trustees. Although she cannot touch so much as a penny piece of the money she attained from the sale of her father’s sizeable property in Ireland, and the money her grandfather left her in his will, until she attains the age of five-and-twenty, her great-aunt, Augusta Fairchild, ensured that she will live very agreeably until then.’

Once again Sir Giles found his interest in this unknown young woman swiftly waning, and experienced a modicum of relief when his butler unexpectedly entered to announce the arrival of another visitor. He was on his feet in a trice, surprising his neighbour somewhat by betraying a degree of delight when a tall gentleman, his muscular figure swathed in a voluminous grey cloak, came striding purposefully into the book-lined room.

‘Ross, my dear boy! This is an unexpected pleasure!’

The new arrival betrayed no similar joy as he shook the baronet’s proffered hand, although Mr Wentworth noticed a less hard set to Major Daniel Ross’s well-shaped mouth when the visitor was introduced to him.

‘Just a flying visit, Osborne,’ the Major announced. ‘I’ve a letter here from Cranford, which I undertook to deliver personally as I was making a trip to the capital in order to attend a reunion dinner with some fellow officers and spend some time with a particular friend, and therefore wouldn’t be inconvenienced too greatly by the slight detour.’

‘Thank you, my dear boy,’ Sir Giles responded, as he relieved the Major of the sealed missive and consigned it to the safety of his jacket pocket.

‘Cranford? Would that be the Honourable Charles Cranford, a member of Parliament?’ Mr Wentworth asked, thereby regaining his neighbour’s attention.

‘Why, yes,’ Sir Giles confirmed. ‘Are you acquainted with him?’

‘Not personally, no. But I dealt with my late father-in-law’s estate after he died, and unless I much mistake the matter it was none other than Charles Cranford who purchased the Colonel’s house in Dorset.’

‘Ah, yes! You may possibly be right, Wentworth. And that is perhaps why the name Fairchild seemed vaguely familiar to me,’ Sir Giles confessed, before casting an enquiring glance in the Major’s direction. ‘Young Daniel, here, should be able to enlighten us. Also he ought to be able to set your mind at rest over the state of the roads in the west.’

Although betraying mild surprise, the Major didn’t hesitate to assure Mr Wentworth that, although there had indeed been a light covering of snow overnight, all the main routes were passable. ‘I set out before dawn, and had no trouble whatsoever in reaching Andover, where I ate a late breakfast. And to answer your first query—yes, Charles Cranford did purchase the late Colonel Fairchild’s property. My home is situated close by. I knew the Colonel very well.’

‘Good Lord! It is a small world, indeed!’ Mr Wentworth exclaimed. ‘You must be acquainted with my wife Lavinia, the Colonel’s younger daughter. Although,’ he added, as he saw dark brows draw together above the Major’s faintly aquiline nose, ‘I expect you were a mere boy when we married and she moved away from the county.’

‘I remember that the Colonel had two daughters, sir. But as you remarked, it is a long time since last I set eyes upon either of them.’

‘Well, sir, I’m certain my wife would enjoy seeing you again. She retains fond memories of that part of the country. In fact,’ he added, as a thought suddenly occurred to him, ‘we’re holding a party this evening. Why not come along? You’d be most welcome. I know Lavinia would enjoy nothing better than chatting over old times.’

‘First, let us see if we cannot persuade him to remain long enough to enjoy a glass of wine,’ Sir Giles intervened, sensing that Major Ross was on the point of declining Mr Wentworth’s kind invitation.

Quickly finishing off the contents of his own glass, and refusing a second, Mr Wentworth cast a brief glance at the mantel-clock, which clearly informed him that it was time he was heading homewards. ‘And I must be on my way. Hope to see you at the party tonight, Major.’

‘He genuinely means it, Ross,’ Sir Giles assured him, the instant his neighbour had departed. A ghost of a smile once again flickered about his thin lips. ‘Not that I suppose for a moment that I could influence your decision one way or the other, but you’re most welcome to put up here for the night. It would grant us the opportunity to reminisce pleasurably over old times.’

The Major’s dark eyes were brightened by a decidedly cynical gleam, as he accepted the glass of burgundy, and lowered his tall frame into the chair recently vacated by his host’s neighbour. ‘You will forgive me for saying so, Osborne, but I cannot recall that our dealings were ever precisely enjoyable.’

‘You are thinking of that delectable French filly, Justine Baron, I do not doubt.’ Sir Giles settled himself in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth, and gazed meditatively down at his glass. ‘Undeniably that must rate as my greatest failure. I came so close to catching him then.’

‘Are you certain that she would have kept to her part of the bargain?’ the Major asked, sounding decidedly sceptical, and after a moment the baronet nodded his head.

‘I could of course have attained the information I wanted by—er—other means. But in Justine’s case I chose to be merciful. She did not become a spy through choice, but because she was forced into it, although she was well paid by her country for her services. There was only one thing Justine loved above money … and that was her sister. We kept to our part of the bargain, and I’m certain in my own mind she would have kept to hers by revealing that British traitor’s name, if the devil hadn’t discovered where I’d hidden her. I knew even then it had to be one of two people. That belief has not changed. Nor my resolve to unmask the rogue.’

The look in the Major’s eyes contained neither sympathy nor encouragement. ‘The war is over.’

‘It might be for you, Ross,’ Sir Giles countered, reaching into his pocket for the letter his companion had kindly taken the trouble to deliver. ‘But there are still a few of us remaining who are determined to see justice done.’

He took a moment to apprise himself of the contents of the missive before returning it to the safety of his pocket. ‘Cranford writes to inform me that he is organising a party at his home at the beginning of April, and has, it seems, been successful in persuading several— er—interesting people to attend. Will you be among the guests?’