Supervising Sally (9 page)

‘Sally will be all right with me. She knows she has been thoughtless, and regrets the inconvenience she has caused.'

He regarded Phoebe steadily, then nodded. ‘Sally, if you promise to behave yourself, I will withdraw my objections to Phoebe going to Brussels with you.'

T
HE POST CHAISE deposited them in Brook Street as dusk was falling, and the earl drew rein behind it. Sally, clutching Phoebe's hand, turned impulsively to him as he walked towards them.

‘Please, can you distract the butler so that we can slip in without him seeing? Then no one else need know what I've done.'

Phoebe nodded towards him. ‘It would be less worry for Lady Drayton,' she said.

After a slight pause he nodded. ‘I will call tomorrow to talk to you.'

While she and Sally stood to one side he plied the knocker. As he disappeared into the house the two girls crept forwards. Phoebe opened the door, glanced into the hall and, seeing it empty, beckoned Sally. They fled up the stairs, trying not to giggle, and burst into Sally's room to find Annie sitting placidly beside the fire hemming handkerchiefs.

She rose to her feet, peering closely at Sally. ‘So you're back. Is all well?' she added, glancing at Phoebe.

‘Yes, we caught up with them late last night, so stayed at an inn. Young Mr Cowper has returned to Benton Manor,' Phoebe told her. ‘How is Lady Drayton?'

‘Much better, though she hasn't ventured from her room yet. It's been a really quiet house.'

‘Were we missed at all?'

Annie chuckled. ‘Not for a moment, though Cook is disappointed at your lack of appetites. I've kept back what food I could, so if you are hungry now there is some soup here in the saucepan, it won't take a minute to warm through, and rolls from breakfast.'

The breakfast provided by the inn had been meagre, and they had stopped on the road only for coffee. Phoebe and Sally ate hungrily.

‘I think I had better be recovered tomorrow,' Phoebe said. ‘Sally can wait another day or so, she was far worse than I.'

Sally pouted, but accepted Phoebe's decision. Saying she was still stiff from the long ride the previous day, she undressed and got into bed, while Phoebe went to her own room. She was weary too and, as soon as Annie had brought her supper, she undressed and lay in bed. It was impossible to sleep, though. They had averted disaster so narrowly. If they had not caught the runaways Sally's reputation would have been in tatters. She would never have been accepted in Society again. Quite possibly her father would have disowned and disinherited her.

Would she be able to control Sally's starts in Brussels? She held no illusions that her situation as the girl's companion would be an easy one. Sally might be subdued now, and willing to promise anything, but she was young and lively. Her natural resilience would reassert itself, and who knew what sort of mischief she would think of next? If she had been really attached to the wretched George, anger and disappointment might make her careless of the opinions of others.

Phoebe's thoughts turned to the earl. After his first arrogance he had accepted her company and, she thought, even
been thankful for her help with Sally. He had been kind and considerate for her comfort. Their conversation on the road had been mainly to do with the chase, but she had detected a sense of humour as well as command in his dealings with George and Sally. And, she thought with a smile of contentment, he had changed his mind about escorting her to Brussels. She would be going there with him, without the need for making different arrangements for their journey, as she had threatened Beatrice could do.

He was, she thought sleepily, very handsome, elegant in his dress and competent in all he did. Lady Drayton had told her he had been with the army in the Peninsular, but she had not explained why he had left it to become a civilian and work for the Foreign Office. His dancing had been graceful, he rode well, his driving had been excellent, even when he had strange horses. She wondered why such a paragon, titled and rich, had not yet married. On the thought, she fell asleep.

Lady Drayton came downstairs for the first time the following day, Phoebe joined her in the drawing-room in the afternoon, feeling rather guilty that she had to conceal Sally's escapade. Sally herself had declared she meant to remain in bed for another day. Phoebe suspected she was sulking, angry at having her plans upset rather than regretting the loss of George. She would probably imagine herself in love many times over the next few years.

‘Zachary was here this morning,' Beatrice told her. ‘There is, unfortunately, more delay. He has to visit some elderly soldier who can brief him on conditions in Brussels, and the people he needs to meet there, but he means to start for Brussels a week today. We've been in London for longer than I expected, but it has given you and Sally plenty of time to
shop for suitable clothes. I confess I shall be glad to be back in Yorkshire, but as I don't feel strong enough to travel yet, a week's respite after my illness will be welcome.'

When Phoebe told Sally this the girl declared she wished to go shopping for a few more items she had not yet been able to find.

‘I didn't bother overmuch before,' she admitted with a rueful grin, ‘as I expected to be in Scotland with George, not on my way to Brussels. But if I have to go there, I mean to cut a dash.'

Phoebe merely blinked. She considered Sally had bought twice as much as she could possibly need. As for cutting a dash, she dreaded what Sally meant by this remark, but decided she did not want to know until it was time to take action.

They set off on the following morning, and Phoebe soon thought she understood what Sally had meant. They went first to a fashionable milliner, and Sally spent an hour trying on all the hats the lady could show her. Eventually she chose two, elaborate confections which were far too old for her.

‘Are you sure?' Phoebe asked. ‘They have so much trimming that they seem designed to draw attention from the wearer. I imagine elderly but vain ladies with raddled complexions would love these hats, hoping people would look at them rather than their faces.'

Sally gave her a startled glance, then considered the hats again. ‘But I want people to look at me, not my hats.'

‘No one would prefer to look at
Mademoiselle
's hats instead of her pretty face,' the milliner said, regarding Phoebe with ill-concealed dislike.

Sally frowned. ‘Perhaps the other one would be better,' she said, and Phoebe, suppressing a sigh of relief, handed her a simple hat adorned only with a feather dyed to match.

Having safely negotiated that obstacle, to the patently
obvious annoyance of the milliner, Phoebe was wary when Sally said she wanted to go to one of the bazaars to choose some trimmings for her gowns.

‘I know I have bought several, but I mean to be able to trim them with different ribbons, or lace, or gauze over-skirts, so that it seems as though I have a different gown each day.'

That seemed a harmless enough ambition, and Phoebe decided she would do the same herself. Not that she had nearly so many gowns as Sally, but it would be pleasant to be able to make them look different.

They were happily selecting ribbons when a girl a year or so older than Sally walking past shrieked with excitement and caught Sally's arm.

‘Sally! I didn't know you were in London! What are you doing here? You must come and see me. Where are you staying?'

Sally swung round, laughed in delight, and kissed the other girl. ‘Darling Emily! It's so long since I've seen you!' She turned to Phoebe. ‘This is Emily Thorne, Phoebe. She's some sort of second cousin twice removed or something like that. Emily, Phoebe Kingston is my companion and going with me to Brussels to stay with my father.'

‘Oh, you are lucky! I would dearly love to go to Brussels, but Papa won't hear of it.'

Phoebe smiled at Emily. She was excitable, but she and Sally seemed good friends. The two girls were soon chattering, and Emily said she would ask her mother to call on Lady Drayton that very afternoon.

‘No one is in Town at this time of year, but we are having a small party in three days' time. Will you be allowed to come?'

‘Of course, and Phoebe can be my chaperon if my aunt does not feel well enough. She has been ill.'

Emily's mother called that afternoon as her daughter had promised, and it was arranged. Beatrice, still weak, was happy her charges would be entertained.

‘For there has not been a great deal for you to do, I'm afraid, and I am unable to escort you.'

The elderly colonel Zachary had been sent to visit had fought his last battle over thirty-four years earlier, when, at Yorktown in Virginia, Lord Cornwallis with 7000 men, had surrendered to Washington, thus bringing to an end the War of American Independence. He had been badly injured, unable to rejoin the army, but he had, he told Zachary, followed every subsequent campaign with great interest, as well as all the political manoeuvrings.

‘I know most of the men fighting today,' he boasted. ‘I've followed their progress, and I think I can say I know their strengths and weaknesses.'

‘I hope there will be no fighting in Brussels,' Zachary said, wondering what possible value these reminiscences could be to him. He himself knew the men who had been fighting in the Peninsular, before he had had to sell out.

‘Humph! Don't believe it. Napoleon said he'd be back with the violets, and he'll want to regain the Netherlands. He regards it as part of France.'

‘But he's safely in Elba.'

‘For now. There are plenty of people in Brussels and the rest of the Netherlands who would welcome him back. France is a good market for their goods. They lost many other markets when we blockaded their ports.'

‘After all their suffering, and the thousands of young men who have been killed, do the people of France want him back, for all that to start again?'

The colonel shook his head. ‘People can be odd. And it will depend, to some extent, on what is arranged at Vienna. If the Netherlanders approve, there will be no trouble. But you want to know about the men in Brussels.'

They spent the next few hours considering the people Zachary expected to meet, and he went back to London with his head full of facts and opinions. The old man, he decided, had been well worth a visit, even if his sometimes extreme comments were only partly true. At least now Zachary had a better understanding of the recent history of the Netherlands, and guidance on which men he might trust, and which to be wary of.