Regency Masquerade (20 page)

Carleton
returned to the house later that day with the special licence in his hand.  He
grabbed Frances round the waist and spun her about, “Not long now!  Tomorrow we
will be off to Brasted!  Do you have anything with you that you could wear as a
wedding gown?”

She
laughed and looked hastily around to make sure they were not being observed. 
“I have one gown with me, that will have to do!”

John
waited at the end of Devonshire Street for some time before he spotted Mrs Pearson
hurrying towards him with a small carpet bag.  “Here.” She said handing it to
him.  “This was all I could save from Miss Frances room.  Lady Murray has given
the rest to the maids or the poor house!  Please tell her I cannot accompany
her - I would have been very happy to see her wed but I can think of no reason
to tell Lady Murray to explain my disappearance for several days.  I do not
think it at all wise to tell her the true reason!”  The nurse was looking
anxiously over her shoulder even as she was speaking to him.  “I must not tarry
any longer.  Please give her my heartfelt wishes for her future happiness!”

“Thank
you ma’am, I will indeed!  If perchance you change your mind, we leave from Grosvenor
Place tomorrow morning at ten.” John bowed his head to her and strode off with
the bag clutched in his hand, unaware that he was being followed.  Tom was on
his way back to the house in Devonshire Street after a fruitless visit to the
Regent Hotel when he saw Mrs Pearson hand over the carpet bag to a strange
man.  He stopped and pretended to fiddle with the buckle on his shoe as the
stranger passed him.  Surely that was the manservant who had come to the house
a few days ago asking to see Miss Frances?  There was something havey-cavey
going on here!  He decided to follow him and see where he went, he had not
forgiven Frances for making a may game of him over the locked room.

Frances
and Carleton were half way through their dinner when the butler came in with an
affronted look on his face.  “My lord, there is a person here to see you.  He
says he is from Bow Street!”  The two exchanged a quick look.  Carleton wiped
his lips with his napkin and rose to his feet.  “Fiend sieze it!  Couldn’t he
wait until after I had eaten? I wonder what business he has with me?  Excuse me
Peter, I had better go and see the man.”

Peter
nodded and slipped quietly up to his room.

Carleton
went into the hall where a stout gentleman with a red face was standing
uncomfortably.

“Evenin’
my lord,” he offered.  “We ‘ave  ‘ad a report that a young lady wot is a bit
touched in the upper works is stayin’ ‘ere.  The complaint ‘as been lodged by
Lady Murray, wot is ‘er legal guardian bein’ as she is not quite up to snuff as
ye might say.”

Carleton
eye brows had been rising steadily during this.  “My good man what Banbury tale
is this?”

“It
is my dooty to search these ‘ere premises to see if this girl is ‘ere or not,”
persisted the unhappy man. 

“What
girl?” asked a bewildered Carleton.

“
’er name is Frances Metcalf, my lord, she’s run away!”

“Well
there is certainly no one going by that name here!  I give you my word on it. 
In fact, Rawlings?”  he called the butler.  “Do we have any young women staying
here?”

“No
my lord.” Then he added hesitantly, “Except for Amy and Ellen of course.”  The
runner turned questioningly to him.

“Oh,
the maidservants, but they have both with us for years,” agreed Carleton.  “I
do not know Lady Murray nor why she thinks this girl is here, but I can tell
you this, you have come on a fools’ errand.  The only guest I have is male.”

The
runner drew his breath, “The Lady said the girl might be a young man, my lord.”

“Well
which is it, a male or a female?  Is the woman spinning you a Canterbury Tale? 
It sounds rather as if she is the one who is queer in the attic!” exclaimed
Carleton

“In
disguise, my lord,” offered the Runner gamely.

“What
is keeping you Carleton?” came a low, world weary voice.  Both men looked up to
see an exquisite young gentleman descending the stairs, his short hair brushed
into the latest fashion, a snowy cravat at his throat and a dark blue coat with
points so high he could barely turn his chin. His right hand rested lightly on
the smallsword at his side.

 “Who
is this fellow?”   He stared at the Runner and raised a quizzing glass to his
eye.

“He
is from Bow Street Peter, he seems to think you are a girl in disguise,” explained
Carleton ignoring the Runner’s frantic gestures to keep quiet.

The
look of offended disbelief that Frances cast on the hapless Runner nearly
overset Carleton’s composure entirely.

In
one smooth movement the sword was drawn and the point suddenly poised against
the Runners’ throat. “Would you care to repeat that to my face?” he asked
silkily.

“I
did not mean ... I beg your pardon, a mistake ...!” stuttered the Runner
backing away.  “I am sure the Lady was mistook in her convictions.  I won’t
bother you two gentlemen anymore, good night.”  He practically fled out the
door.

“Now,
where were we?” asked Carleton leading the way back to the dining room.

“First
thing tomorrow, I shall send a complaint to Bow Street,” fulminated Peter, in
his wake.  “I don’t know what sort of people they are reduced to hiring, he was
obviously foxed, why else come here with such wild accusations?”  The two
continued to abuse the absent Runner for the benefit of the butler and the
footman who were waiting on them, neither of whom noticed the amusement lurking
in the back of their lord’s eyes.

The
next morning, Frances donned her gown and wig and turned herself back into an
elegant young woman.   She packed her male attire and all her other possessions
into the carpet bag provided by the previous day by Mrs Pearson, and waited
until John and Carleton between them kept the servants occupied elsewhere so
that she could slip downstairs and out to the hired carriage.  The postboy
holding the horses’ heads paid her little attention.  As she was settling
herself and waiting for the others, a short elderly woman carrying a small
portmanteau got out of a hackney cab and came tentatively towards the house. 

“Mrs
Pearson?” she called out the window.  The nurse turned to her, “Oh Miss
Frances, I am that glad you haven’t left yet!”  her eyes were red and she was
sniffing into a handkerchief. 

“Please
get in the carriage, ma’am,” invited Frances.  “Tell me, what has happened?” 
The elderly lady got shakily into the carriage leaving her luggage on the
footpath.

“Turned
off!” she said tearfully. “Me, that was with her more than forty years!  I
still cannot believe it.  And if you cannot take me I don’t know what I will do
or where I will go!”  She started sobbing in earnest. 

“My
dear lady,” said Frances firmly, “Of course you will come with us to
Chatswood!  Well, firstly we are going to Brasted to be wed, and then after
that to Chatswood.  We will be very grateful to have you I can assure you.  Ah
here is John now.”  Hopgood came out with her luggage and stored it on the back
of the coach.  “Mrs Pearson is coming with us after all John,” explained
Frances. “Can you put her case on the back with mine?”

“I
think so, if you could take this small bag in with you, Miss,” John rearranged
the luggage to his satisfaction. 

Carleton
came out then and greeted Mrs Pearson politely as Frances told him what had
occurred.  “Of course you are welcome to stay with us ma’am,” he reiterated
warmly.  He had arranged for John to drive the carriage, and he had planned to
ride alongside to give as much an appearance of propriety as they could, but he
was very glad Mrs Pearson was coming with them and would sit inside with
Frances.  It would also make it possible for them all to stay overnight in
Sevenoaks, if for some reason the rector was unable to perform the ceremony
that day.  They set off at last, Rawlings closing the door behind them and
wondering furiously who the two unknown women were in the coach.  He was
staying in town to oversee the upkeep of the house in its owners’ absence and Fanshaw
was to go down to Chatswood by hired chaise later that day so that he would be
on hand to attend to Carleton.  

Fanshaw
himself was still flabbergasted by the instructions Lord Carleton had given him
that very morning.  “I am sure you will be happy to hear that I am getting wed in
the next day or so to Miss Frances Metcalf, Lady Metcalf’s daughter, you have
not yet made her acquaintance as she has been living abroad until very
recently.” Lord Carleton had given him a very meaningful look at that point
which he had not in the least understood. “I need you to give these instructions
to Williams, to  inform the staff and prepare the household for its new
mistress. By the way, here is another letter for Mrs Madden, she will be going
to live with Mr Theo’s family for a while.  I would greatly appreciate it if
she could be taken there as soon as possible.” Although he then added a comment
to the effect that Fanny had requested her help with the children, it was
apparent to Fanshaw that Mrs Madden had severely angered his lordship.  As she
had been attached to Mr Richard and the family for years, he wondered uneasily
what on earth she had done to earn his displeasure.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

By
the time they stopped for a light lunch and change of horses at a posting
house, Mrs Pearson was starting to feel more cheerful. It was a very long time
since she had been anywhere without Lady Murray and she began to feel as if a
weight were lifting from her shoulders. Frances told her a little about her
life abroad, leaving out the more florid episodes and the nurse thought it all
sounded very exciting, even if slightly shocking.  They reached Brasted as the
sun came out for the first time that day, a good omen she thought.  John took
them straight to the rectory and accompanied by Lord Carleton, went up and
knocked at the door.  “Reverend Thomas, do you remember me?  I was here a
couple of weeks ago enquiring about the marriage of Henry Metcalf?”

The
face in front of them cleared, “Yes of course.”  He looked questioningly at the
fashionably dressed man beside him.

“This
is my Lord Carleton, Reverend Thomas, oh and I’m Hopgood sir in case you’ve
forgotten.”

Carleton
reached out to shake the reverend’s hand.  “How d’ye do sir.  I have an unusual
request of you.  May I introduce my betrothed?”  At this Frances descended from
the carriage and came towards the small group, followed more slowly by Mrs Pearson. 
The Reverend Thomas’s face lit with sudden recognition, as had Mrs Pearson
previously when she first set eyes on Frances.  “Henry!” he exclaimed.  “I beg
your pardon!” he blushed.  “No, you are correct sir,” responded Frances
smiling, “I am Frances Metcalf, Henry was my father.  And this is my companion
Mrs Pearson, she was also my mother Amanda’s nurse.”

“My
goodness me!  What a surprise!  But how can I help you?” he inquired, puzzled.

“Miss
Metcalf and I wish to be married,” Carleton said firmly.  “I have a special
licence with me.”

“But,
surely, your own parish ...?” asked the rector, astonished.

Frances
spoke up, “To be honest sir, we have a problem with my grandmother, Lady
Murray.  I have lived abroad all my life and have only just met her.  You are
aware from John’s enquiries that she had some doubts as to whether my parents
were truly married?”

The
rector was nodding, “But surely I was able to put those to rest?”

“Yes
indeed,” responded Frances warmly, “You cannot know how grateful I am to you. 
But Lady Murray is reluctant to recognise me still and I suspect there will be
a legal battle over my inheritance.  Lord Carleton and I wish to be married as
soon as possible so that we may confront this together as husband and wife.  I
do not have any place to stay for the three weeks required for banns except
with my Lord Carleton, and we thought this would be a better alternative,
especially since you knew my parents.”

Mrs
Pearson was nodding throughout this, a picture of a respectable elderly lady
and the rector looked at her, “Excuse me,” he glanced apologetically at
Frances, “but you can confirm this?”

“Yes
indeed rector, unfortunately it is too true, my Lady’s behaviour has been a
grave disappointment to me and would be to her daughter too, if she were still
with us, God rest her soul.”  She held her handkerchief to her eye again.

“I
am twenty four years old, reverend, certainly of an age to know my own mind,
will you do this for us?   I beseech you.”  Frances pressed, her hands reaching
out to clasp his.  More prosaically, Carleton took the licence from his pocket
and handed it to the rector.  “You may see everything is in order, sir.”

The
rector looked from one to the other and sighed. “Very well, when did you have
in mind?” 

“As
soon as possible rector, there will be just the four of us attending. Mr
Hopgood and Mrs Pearson can serve as witnesses,” Carleton answered promptly.

“In
that case, give me a few minutes to prepare and I will meet you over at the
church.”

Frances
and Carleton thanked him and the small party walked the few yards to St
Martin’s church, pausing a few moments to admire the mullioned windows with
their stone arches.  In an hour or less they would be married, Frances had to
pinch herself to verify that she was not asleep and dreaming, she leant over to
Carleton and whispered, “Are you sure of this Richard?”