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Authors: Joan Smith

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BOOK: Memoirs of a Hoyden
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I swallowed my quart of spleen all in one gulp, not to ingratiate this bigheaded jackass, but to learn his plan for trapping Longville. This wasn’t the moment to let pride stand in my way. “What do you plan to do?” I asked, with a civility that caused me heartburn.

“I plan to stop him, once and for all.”

“Could you be a little more specific? Do you plan to lie in wait for the smugglers to arrive? Or will you find some pretext to actually get into the manor and keep an eye on things from inside? That shouldn’t be impossible, as I deduce you are acquainted with Longville. And what about the orders to our army? You said they were genuine orders, and that there was the necessity for speed in delivering them.”

“My groom delivered a copy to Colonel Hackley.”

“I see.” Once again Kestrel surprised me by having a soupçon of common sense after all. “About my other questions—where will you go to catch the spies?”

“That need not interest you,” he said bluntly. “You’ve shown a lack of ability to follow orders. I sent you and Kidd south to the coast. You shouldn’t be here at all. Pray go to Canterbury. Bore the kipper-crunching crowd there, and leave me free to do my job.” On this rude speech, he turned and galloped away.

Ronald looked a question at me. “He was a little distraught,” I decided, though his words stung like a nettle. Amateur indeed! A “few words of Arabic” and some management of ignorant Bedouins was his assessment of my accomplishments. To add that bit about “boring” my audience was entirely gratuitous. They had been spellbound in London. Tom Moore himself sat mesmerized throughout.

“We might as well go back,” Ronald said.

“Go back, and miss out on the exciting part after we’ve come this far? Ronald, I’m disappointed in you. Naturally we must follow Kestrel and learn what he’s up to. Do you trust him to handle Longville by himself? I certainly do not.”

“Kestrel is top of the trees, Marion. You may be sure he has some plan. I think it would be best if we just do as he said.”

I was beginning to think we were perhaps de trop, but having come this far, I couldn’t bear to miss out on the excitement. “When were you upgraded from my secretary to my adviser, Mr. Kidd? I don’t recall that promotion. I mean to follow Kestrel. Anything could happen. Of course, if you are afraid of a handful of Frenchies, then you must by all means desert me. You won’t forget to look for my lap case at Chatham? I wouldn’t want to lose those three chapters of the next Aurelia.”

Ronald shook his head. “There’s no need to con me. I’ll go along, but if we end up getting Kestrel killed and losing the letter to the Frenchies, it’s on your shoulders. I officially register my objection here and now.”

“Objection duly noted. And when I save Kestrel’s life and the letter, will you remember your objection, my good secretary?”

Ronald knew I was only teasing. A “Mr. Kidd” will usually bring him to heel. His mood was just fine as we waited in the road to see which turn Kestrel took. We would have to keep a considerable distance behind Kestrel, as he looked over his shoulder from time to time to be sure we weren’t following. We turned our mounts around as though leaving, but when Kestrel turned right, we weren’t far behind him.

A thrill of pleasure trembled up my spine. I hadn’t had such fun since the frigate docked in England. I felt a new adventure was stirring, offering the possibility of not only helping my country and gathering material for Aurelia, but of showing Lord Kestrel a much-needed lesson as well. Amateur indeed! Boring my audience!

 

Chapter Five

 

The road signs on the corner where Kestrel turned said Dover three miles, Hythe five miles, in the opposite direction. Kestrel did not continue north toward Dover as he had indicated he would, but south toward Hythe. Already the land was taking on the appearance of territory reclaimed from the sea, with Romney Marsh a few miles ahead.

That would be an unattractive area populated by a few farms, many sheep, and many bands of smugglers, but where we rode, the coast was still rocky. Some beauty was added by the ocean, visible at times, and always reminding one of its presence by the smell. Kestrel took many a sharp look around to insure he wasn’t being followed, which required Ronald and me to be put to the unusual and uncomfortable shift of riding in the ditch, but eventually he turned his mount in at a fine old iron gate. When we reached it a little later, we saw a prosperous private estate. While waiting to stop the first passerby and ascertain that the place was indeed Longville Manor, we laid our plans.

“One of us must have an accident,” I said. “Kestrel’s an idiot. He’s going to waltz straight in and accuse Longville to his face. Much chance he’ll have of catching the spies once he’s revealed himself. Longville will kill him.”

“I can’t believe Kestrel would do that. He ain’t the gudgeon we’ve been thinking,” Ronald replied. “In fact, I still think we should go on and leave him in peace.”

“In pieces is more like it. He’ll need our help before this is over. Are you ready?”

“I take it I’m the one who’s going to have an accident? I knew how it would be. I need my cane.” He hopped down from his perch and procured himself a stout fallen branch, on which he would hold the weight of his sprained ankle when we went to Sir Herbert’s door to seek assistance.

Ronald thought my spraining an ankle would cause greater pity, and a greater chance of being invited to remain to dinner, but I wanted to be free to move about the house. Before going to the door, however, we waited quite half an hour to make sure Kestrel wasn’t just making a brief visit. We figured that half an hour at such a time of day (i.e., nearly dinnertime) meant he was remaining to dine. At the appointed time Ronald clambered down from his mount, leaned on the branch and my arm, and I lifted the brass knocker.

The house appeared at first glance to be dismayingly innocent. A country-style butler, well fed and wearing a black jacket, answered the door. He showed no alarm or suspicion at our plight, but with a true Christian kindness invited us into a small waiting parlor, and even offered wine. I peeped around the entrance hall and into the main saloon, but saw no sign of Kestrel or Sir Herbert.

“Would you like me to call a doctor to look at the lad’s ankle?” the butler offered.

We hadn’t gone so far as to actually sprain Ronald’s ankle, so this had to be talked away. We had only rubbed it, to make it red. “It isn’t primarily the ankle, really. Mr. Kidd has a weakness of constitution picked up during his travels in the Orient,” I explained vaguely. “If he could rest an hour or so, he’ll be fine.”

“The Orient, eh?” the butler enquired with quick interest.

It was my aim to meet the man of the house, and I hoped my reputation might fulfill that aim. “Yes, I am Miss Mathieson,” I replied, looking from the corner of my eye to see if he recognized the name.

“From India, are you?” he asked. This told me my fame had not spread to the provinces. Oates was wise to have arranged the lecture tour.

“No, the Orient.”

While the butler stood smiling, there was the sound of light footfalls at the doorway, and a young lady came into the room. She appeared as innocent and provincial as the rest of the house. She was a pretty enough girl, with brown hair and dark eyes. Her gown, I suspected, was local in origin, and her coiffure nonexistent. Her hair just sat on her head, curled but not arranged.

Ronald hopped to his feet with an alacrity that belied a sprained ankle. A sharp squeeze on the derriere caused a good, convincing wince. I noticed he looked with favor on the young provincial, and she displayed an equal interest in him. “Ronald, you’d best sit down,” I reminded him.

I offered the girl my hand. “I am Miss Mathieson, and this is my secretary, Mr. Kidd.”

“Miss Longville,” she replied, smiling, but not with the smile that hinted at recognition.

“My secretary had a dizzy spell on the road beyond your place, and fell from his mount. I fear he has twisted his ankle. I hope you will excuse our encroaching manners, Miss Longville, but the only thing for these dizzy spells is a short period of lying down.”

She turned to the butler. “You may leave us, Ruggers,” she said. As soon as the butler left, she returned her gaze to Ronald. It was a brightly curious, anticipatory look. Ronald is not the most handsome man in the world, but with a provincial I daresay he might cause a favorable impression. “What has been done with your mount and your personal things?” she enquired.

“We left our mounts tethered out front,” he answered.

“I’ll see to them.”

She swept from the room, leaving us to wonder what she had in mind. Was she going to have the nags stabled? Why not ask the butler to do it? “Country manners,” I explained to Ronald.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he said, smiling fondly at the door.

“She’s not an antidote. I wonder where Kestrel is, and Sir Herbert. I think you must have a fainting spell when she returns, Ronald. If we can get you into a bed, we’ll be here for an hour at least. I hope she offers us dinner. Won’t Kestrel stare to see me sitting across from him!”

“They’ll all stare if you plan to go to the table in that dusty traveling suit.”

“Bother! One forgets the restrictions of English society. I hope Miss Longville has something I can fit into. She’s such a little squab, her gowns will be above my ankles. And these vulgar red slippers! They’re comfortable, though.”

“She’s dainty as a sylph,” Ronald smiled.

“Dainty as two sylphs rolled together. Her body is fuller than mine. It’s the length I’m concerned about.”

The well-rounded sylph returned wearing a frown of confusion. “You don’t have any cases. There was nothing but the mounts.”

“We were just out for a ride,” I answered swiftly, before Ronald took into his noggin to say more than he should. “We are visiting at Dover, and wanted to see a bit of the countryside while we’re here.”

“Would you like to send a message to someone?” Miss Longville asked.

“No, we are putting up at a hotel.”

Miss Longville raised a prudish eyebrow at this. “Mr. Kidd is my nephew,” I assured her, “as well as my secretary.’’

“It is odd, a lady having a secretary,” she said.

“I am an author. Perhaps you’ve heard of my book,
A Gentlewoman’s Memoirs of the Orient?
I was to lecture at Canterbury tonight, but had to postpone it.”

Her “Oh” said as plain as day she’d never heard of me, and had very little interest in the Orient besides. A herd of sheep would be of more interest to this country bumpkin. As the girl was rather simple, I had to remind her of the patient. “Would it be possible for Mr. Kidd to lie down somewhere for an hour or so?”

“He can stay right here,” she answered witlessly, pointing to the sofa he sat on.

“Perhaps we’d best send for a doctor after all. He’s passing out,” I announced, with a commanding eye to Ronald, who promptly fell into a marvelous coma.

“I hope it’s not contagious!” Miss Longville said, and jumped back a yard or two.

With great forbearance, I didn’t box her ears. “Call your Ruggers and a couple of footmen. We must get him into bed at once. He’ll require plenty of covers and some hot soup. It isn’t contagious, Miss Longville. It is like intelligence in that respect.”

“But what ails him?”

“It is a fever of the brain.”

“Oh dear! I don’t know what Papa will say!”

This was the first interesting utterance to have left her lips. “Your papa dislikes company, does he?” I asked. This seemed the expected behavior of a traitorous spy.

“It’s not that. He already has company. Lord Kestrel is staying with us overnight.”

“Overnight!”

Strangely, the witless thing picked up on my peculiar reaction, mentioning the length of Kestrel’s visit. There was a somewhat knowing look in her eyes as she examined me. She didn’t say anything, but there was definitely a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll call Ruggers,” she said, and left.

Ronald recovered sufficiently to walk upstairs on Ruggers’s arm. I went up behind him, accompanied by Miss Longville. “We are about to have dinner. Miss Mathieson,” she said. “Could you be prevailed upon to join us?”

“If you have a gown I could borrow, I should be delighted,” I answered.

“Come to my room while they settle Mr. Kidd in. We can be alone there.”

One hardly expected to change in front of men, but I found her “alone” rather ominous. When we were alone, she said, “Did you know Lord Kestrel was here?” A sharp look in her eyes caused me a moment’s consternation, till I figured out she thought I was throwing my hankie at him and had come here haring after him.

This put me in the devil of a predicament. I wanted to deny any knowledge of the man, but what if Kestrel blurted out that he did know me? It seemed more likely he would not do this, however, so I said, “Lord Kestrel?” in a confused sort of way that left the door open to recognition later if necessary.

“He works with my father at Whitehall, and lives nearby.’’

“It is strange he stays overnight then.”

“He plans to return to London tomorrow morning. Something has come up.”

“I see. I hope there isn’t any trouble.”

“No, just some government business.”

She opened the door of her clothespress to reveal a smarter collection of gowns than I anticipated. A few compliments brought forth a smile.

“I live in London. I’m my father’s hostess there,” she said. “I don’t dress up at home. Papa says it puts the constituents off for me to dress too grandly. If I’d known Kestrel was coming ...”

“How about this one?” I said, selecting a dashing blue crepe gown, cut to the latest fashion. “Do I have time to bathe? I’m covered in dust from our ride.”

“Dinner is nearly ready. You’ll have to make do with a quick washup.”

She called for a basin of hot water and left me alone to tend to my toilette. While I washed, brushed my hair into a basket of curls, and donned the pretty blue gown, I could hardly contain my mirth to think of Kestrel’s shock when he saw me. The fit of the gown was far from perfect, being too loose and to short, but it was passable. I had more important worries than the fit of a gown. I must speak first when Kestrel was introduced, to let him know we two were strangers. When I was prepared, I went into the hall and saw Miss Longville just coming from Ronald’s room. She wore a frown.

BOOK: Memoirs of a Hoyden
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