The Chaperon Bride

‘Are you not to introduce me, Ashy, darling?’ Her French accent was slight and very pretty. She peeked up at him under the brim of the dashing hat with the charm of a wilful child.

Ashy! Annis thought, trying not to laugh at the diminutive. She caught Ashwick’s eye again and looked quickly away, for fear that he might read her mind again. She did not seek such affinity with him.

‘Margot, may I present Annis, Lady Wycherley, and her cousin Mr Charles Lafoy?’ Ashwick sounded pleasantly indifferent now as though the moment of enmity with Charles had never occurred. The lady nodded to Annis and batted her eyelashes at Charles in exaggerated fashion. Annis felt slightly amused and rather more irritated. The whole inn yard seemed to have stopped in order to stare at the Beauty and Annis wondered, as she had on many previous occasions, just why people were always drawn to the obvious. She had lost count of the times that débutantes with charm and fine looks were overlooked when something flashier came along. It was the same here. The ostlers were gaping, the other travellers were staring in admiration and some of the guests were even peering from the inn window to admire Ashwick’s fair companion.

‘I am Margot Mardyn,’ the lady said, with the air of one making an important announcement. ‘You have heard of me, non?’

‘Of course,’ Annis said hastily, as Charles looked blank. ‘I hear that we are will be privileged to have you perform at the Theatre Royal this summer season, Miss Mardyn. My cousin and I shall be sure to attend.’

Margot Mardyn nodded, whilst smiling bewitchingly at Charles. ‘I shall hope to see you after the show,’ she said graciously to him.

She squeezed Ashwick’s arm. ‘Viens, Ashy, I am cold. This “north” of yours is a shockingly barbaric place. Why, do you know…’ she turned back to Charles confidingly ‘…at some of the inns along the way we were obliged to drink in the common tap? Alors! Along with all the hoi polloi! Come along, Ashy!’

Annis looked at Lord Ashwick and was taken aback to see that he was still watching her. He inclined his head and gave her a faint smile, which Annis found even more disturbing. She fidgeted with the seam of her gloves and hoped that her colour had not risen. Famously impervious to the good looks of eligible young gentlemen, she found it very odd that she should be drawn in this curious manner to a man whose style of life was so far removed from her own. Yet she could not deny it; the air between them was sharp with awareness. It was extremely disconcerting.

‘I shall look forward to meeting you again, Lady Wycherley,’ Ashwick said politely. ‘I hope that you enjoy your stay in Harrogate.’

‘Who was that?’ Charles asked in a bemused tone as Ashwick steered his fair companion through the inn door and the excitement in the yard subsided. Annis, observing the rapt expression on his face as he watched Miss Mardyn’s departure, sighed to herself.

‘That was Lord Ashwick,’ she said drily. ‘I collect that you are acquainted with him?’

‘Of course I know Ashwick.’ Charles turned to her impatiently. ‘His family have owned property around here for hundreds of years.’

‘Of course.’ Annis remembered this herself now. The Ashwicks had been part of the long and turbulent history of the Yorkshire moors for centuries, from the time that the first baron had served at the court of Charles II and had been given an estate in the back of beyond for his pains. Presumably Lord Ashwick was in Yorkshire to visit that very estate. Annis found herself wondering if she would see him again.

Charles was still looking over his shoulder in the direction that the couple had gone.

‘Annis? Are your wits wandering? I meant the lady—’

‘Ah, the lovely Miss Mardyn. She is a dancer and singer who has recently graced the stage at Drury Lane.’ Annis looked at him sardonically. ‘Charles, I should be obliged if you would help me up into the carriage. We have been standing here these ten minutes past and, as Miss Mardyn so succinctly observed, it is rather chilly.’

She waited until they were settled back on the fat red squabs of the Lafoy carriage, then added, ‘I heard on the journey up that Miss Mardyn is to entertain us with Harlequin’s Metamorphoses, Escapes and Leaps. Mr Fairlie was telling me about it and he was most excited. I believe the show will sell out, so you had better hurry to get your ticket.’

‘That…child, a dancer?’ Charles’s mouth seemed permanently propped open. ‘She cannot be above seventeen, surely?’

‘Thirty-five if she’s a day,’ Annis said cheerfully, reflecting ruefully that men were always distracted by a pretty face and could never see what was under their nose, ‘and hailing from the Portsmouth Docks rather than Paris, I hear.’

Charles looked appalled and fascinated all at the same time. ‘Good God! And her connection with Ashwick?’

Annis gave him a speaking look.

‘Oh!’ Charles said.

‘Well, it is entirely possible that Lord Ashwick was escorting Miss Mardyn as a favour for a friend,’ Annis said fairly. ‘When I left London the on dit was that she was the Duke of Fleet’s inamorata. Who would have thought that such a bird of paradise would alight in Harrogate, of all places?’

‘You are very free in your conversation, Annis,’ Charles said, his mouth turning down at the corners. ‘It must be the effect of London living. I hope you do not encourage your charges to listen to gossip.’

Annis laughed aloud. ‘I am sorry if I offend your sensibilities, Charles. I had no idea you had turned into such a puritan!’

The coach trundled out of the inn yard and turned on to Silver Street. It was only a step to the house that Charles had hired for Annis in Church Row, but with her trunks it had clearly been impractical to walk. Annis leaned forward to look out of the window at the open ground of The Stray, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight.

‘Oh it is quite delightful to be back! I do believe the last time was two years ago, and a flying visit at that. Tell me, Charles—’ she turned back to look at him thoughtfully ‘—what is the nature of your quarrel with Lord Ashwick? I was not aware that the two of you knew each other.’

Charles shifted uncomfortably. ‘I met him last year when his brother-in-law died. It is a little difficult, Annis.’ Charles sighed. ‘The late Lord Tilney, Ashwick’s brother-in-law, was involved in a business scheme with Mr Ingram, but it failed and Ingram bought all his debts. When he died, Humphrey Tilney owed Ingram a deal of money. Ashwick agreed to pay the debt to save his sister from penury. The situation caused some difficulties.’

Annis raised her brows. Samuel Ingram, Charles’s most powerful client, was a man who rode roughshod over all those who opposed his business dealings. She could imagine a nobleman of Lord Ashwick’s calibre deeply resenting being in debt to such a man.

‘What was this business venture?’

Charles looked gloomy. ‘You probably remember it. It was in all the newspapers. Ingram and Humphrey Tilney were joint owners of the Northern Prince, the ship that went down carrying goods and money to the colonies eighteen months ago. There was the devil of a fuss.’

‘I imagine there would be.’ Annis frowned. ‘Was there not a fortune in gold on the ship?’

‘That is correct, and banknotes and silver and God alone knows what other valuables in addition.’

‘Surely it was insured?’

Charles shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yes, but Humphrey Tilney had overreached himself financially to fund his part in the enterprise in the first place. Under normal circumstances he might have recouped his losses within a couple of years but, as it was, he ended thirty thousand in debt. Ingram bought his debts up to help him rather than let him fall ever deeper into the hands of the moneylenders.’

‘How charitable of him,’ Annis said drily, thinking that a man such as Samuel Ingram seldom did anything out of the goodness of his heart.

Charles frowned to hear the note in her voice. ‘See here, Annis, Ingram charged a very reasonable rate of interest—’

‘And you wonder at Lord Ashwick resenting the fact!’ Annis said, even more drily.

Charles subsided like a pricked balloon. ‘That is the way that business works…’

‘I dare say. I suppose there was no doubt that the ship actually went down? Ingram has not compounded his sins by defrauding the insurers?’

Charles looked horrified. ‘Devil take it, Annis, of course not! Of course the ship went down! For pity’s sake, do not go around saying such things in public!’

Annis was startled at his vehemence. ‘Very well, Charles, there is no need to roast me for it! I only asked the question. Speaking of Ingram, I read in the Leeds Mercury that there had been a fire at his farm at Shawes. Is foul play suspected?’

Charles gave her a very sharp look. ‘Not at all. Why do you ask?’

Annis gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘No need to pretend to me, Charles! I know that Mr Ingram is not popular hereabouts. I have read all about the arson and the threats to his property.’

Charles looked shifty. ‘Yes, well, I will concede there has been a little local difficulty over the enclosure of the Shawes common, and there has been some discussion about rents this year—’

‘You sound like a lawyer!’ Annis said with a sigh.

‘Well, so I am. And Mr Ingram’s lawyer at that. It is my place to be dispassionate.’

‘I would have thought that Mr Ingram would see it as your place to support him,’ Annis said drily. ‘That is what he pays you for.’

Charles blushed an angry red. ‘See here, Annis, must you be so blunt? I’m astounded you ever find a match for those girls of yours if you are as outspoken with their suitors as you are with me!’

‘Fortunately the gentlemen are marrying the girls and not me,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘I do not seek to marry again, as you know, Charles.’