Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Y elden Court, June 1814

Lady Yelden rose from her seat at the end of the dining table, a mixture of pride and irritation on her face as she surveyed the uneaten food remaining on the serving dishes. "Shall we retire to the parlour, ladies? It is just as well we did not wait for the Bengroves to arrive. I hope they have not met with an accident."

"It was a splendid meal, Sarah," Papa said, raising his glass to her. "As usual."

Aunt Sarah smiled. "Thank you, Stretton."

Murmurs of appreciation came from around the table as footmen drew the chairs back for Mama, Jo, and Lydia. Beyond the windows, the sun was dipping towards the horizon, and long shadows crept across the front lawn. Jo paused as she caught a flash of movement where the gravelled drive emerged from the trees. Two coaches.

"I think they might be here now, Aunt Sarah."

"Ah well. Better late than never, I suppose." She turned to the butler. "Stevenson, please ask Cook to provide a meal from what is left in case they have not already dined, and offer them trays in their rooms. "

By the time the coaches drew up in front of the house, everyone had assembled in the entrance hall to greet the new arrivals. The nervousness Jo had felt all day intensified—although why she should feel that way, she could not say. She should be looking forward to seeing Alfred again after several weeks apart.

Lord and Lady Bengrove emerged from the first coach, together with another finely dressed woman with sharp features. The servants riding on the roof descended and began unloading luggage.

"Lady Misterton." Aunt Sarah spoke quietly, so that only Mama and Jo, standing just behind her, could hear. "A well-known gossip. What is she doing here?" She stepped forward to stand beside Uncle Henry, ready to greet their guests as the Bengroves climbed the front steps. Catherine and Mr Bengrove descended from the second coach, then Alfred, scowling as he said something to his brother. Mr Bengrove nudged him with an elbow, and Alfred's sour expression turned to a smile as he looked towards the door and his gaze settled on Jo. Then her view of him was blocked by his parents.

"Welcome, Lord Bengrove, Lady Bengrove," Uncle Henry said. "I am glad you have arrived safely."

"No thanks to the coachman," Lady Bengrove sniffed. "We had to wait for hours in Winchester while he found a wheelwright. At least the inn provided an acceptable repast."

"Oh dear." Aunt Sarah turned to Lady Misterton. "Did you have a mishap too? How providential that the Bengroves came across you on your journey."

"Lady Misterton is here at my invitation," Lady Bengrove said, either ignoring or oblivious to the note of sarcasm in Aunt Sarah's voice.

"What an impertinence!" Mama said quietly to Jo.

"Who is she?"

"A dowager viscountess, I think. Sarah will know more; I'll ask her later."

"Allow me to present my son George, and daughter Lydia," Uncle Henry said. "And Lady Frances Stretton, and her husband and daughter. "

Mama curtsied, seemingly not surprised at Uncle Henry's use of her title. " So happy to meet you, Lady Misterton."

The smile, and the almost hidden sarcasm in Mama's tone made Jo happier than she had been in some time; Mama must truly be recovering her health.

"And I, you." Lady Misterton inclined her head, clearly unsure who Mama was, but neither Mama nor Aunt Sarah enlightened her. The housekeeper came to show the new arrivals to their rooms, and Jo followed Mama into the parlour.

"No doubt Lady Bengrove will inform her of my lowly status," Mama said, as they sat down. "She didn't apologise for upsetting Sarah's arrangements, I noticed. And they could easily have sent the second coach on with a message."

"A viscountess apologising to a mere baroness?" Jo said. "Never!"

Mama smiled, but shook her head. "Jo, I'm sorry you'll have to put up with that woman when you're wed. I just hope you and Alfred can buy somewhere to live quickly."

"And at some distance from Bengrove Hall."

"Indeed. I think I will retire, Jo. I am feeling much better now we're settled here for a while, but I don't want to have to spend the rest of the evening in Lady Bengrove's company. And you will want to be with Alfred."

Papa and George entered the parlour not long after Mama had gone upstairs, carrying their glasses of port with them, and Lord Bengrove and his sons soon joined them. Alfred came over to Jo, smiling with his usual charm.

"Joanna, it has been too long." He held out his hands, and she took them, feeling the familiar warmth at his smile.

"Was your business successful?" Jo asked as he sat down beside her.

His smile faded. "What business?"

"You said urgent business had called you out of town. In your note," she added, when he still appeared puzzled. "The day we were supposed to go to the exhibition."

"A family matter, Miss Stretton." Mr Bengrove had come over to them. "We wouldn't want to bore you with the details. "

She was soon to be family, if the next couple of weeks went well, but this didn't seem the time to point that out. "How is Catherine, Mr Bengrove? Is she coming down for tea?"

"She is rather fatigued from the journey, and decided to rest in our room. Did she tell you she is expecting another happy event in a few months?"

"No, she didn't." Which was odd, as she and Catherine had driven in the park several times before Papa had brought them all to Yelden. "I hope she will feel better in the morning."

"I imagine so. She didn't travel well while she was expecting the first one, either."

"Would she not have been more comfortable remaining at Bengrove Hall?" Jo asked. She was pleased that Catherine had come, particularly now that Lady Bengrove had brought a friend likely to be as unpleasant as she was, but she wouldn't wish days of travel-sickness on her.

Mr Bengrove shook his head, but it was Alfred who spoke. "She will enjoy the grounds here, I think. Jo, will you walk with me tomorrow, as we did when we first met here?"

"I would like that," Jo said. But his brother's presence seemed to have tied Alfred's tongue, for after thanking her he didn't speak. "We could have a game of billiards," Jo suggested, when the silence began to feel uncomfortable. "Cousin George has been teaching me." Her gaze slid sideways to where George was standing with his father and Lord Bengrove, looking bored.

"It's not a suitable game for a woman," Alfred declared, following her gaze.

"Oh? Why?" Jo asked, irritated. Across the room, George must have sensed that they were talking about him, for he turned and came towards them.

"It seems rather… indelicate, Mr Bengrove said, before Alfred could answer. "Leaning over the table as you must."

Alfred cleared his throat again. "If you really wish to play, Joanna, I can teach you."

"Thank you, Alfred, but I need practice, not instruction. As I said, my cousin has been teaching me." Alfred was frowning—perhaps he did not wish to play at all? "If you would rather not, just say so."

"She's not bad, Bengrove," George said, having reached them in time to hear what Jo said. "I'll play, Jo." He jerked his head towards his father. "Anything's better than listening to those two prose on about politics."

"Thank you for the compliment, Cousin, so condescending of you."

He grinned. "Anytime, Coz."

"How about you and me, Yelden?" Mr Bengrove interrupted. "More of a challenge, eh?"

George looked at Jo, who gave a small nod. She had only suggested the idea to break the silence, but Mr Bengrove didn't know that.

"Very well, Bengrove. This way."

As they walked off, Jo turned back to Alfred. "Do you wish me to refrain from playing billiards?"

He reached out and took her hand again. "Not if you really wish to do so, my dear Joanna. But I cannot like the idea of you spending time alone with another man."

Was Alfred jealous? Of George ?

"George and I have known each other since we were children, Alfred. He is like a brother to me."

"If you say so, my dear." But he was clearly unconvinced, and again an awkward silence fell.

Jo stood. "Excuse me, Alfred. I will go and see if Catherine has everything she needs."

"I'm sure her maid will do all that is necessary."

"I would like to see for myself, however. Goodnight, Alfred."

"Er… Goodnight, my dear."

She left the room, disappointed that their first meeting after several weeks had felt so uncomfortable. Reaching the landing, she paused outside the door of the room that Mr and Mrs Bengrove had been given—Catherine wasn't the cause of her disappointment. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

Winchester

Rob checked his neckcloth in the mirror, ready to see what the coaching inn could provide in the way of breakfast. Turning, he saw that Chadwick was packing his trunk.

"What are you doing? It's only an hour's journey to Yelden Court, and we'll be back here this afternoon when we've made our report." He would be seeing Miss Stretton again, but only while Chadwick reported what they had found. That was both too much time in her company, and not enough.

"We're not returning—I've already paid the reckoning."

"What?"

"We're invited to the house party as well—didn't Moorven say?"

" House party ? I thought the Strettons were staying with Mrs Stretton's sister? And what's Moorven got to do with it?"

Chadwick gave him a puzzled look as he dropped his shaving kit into his trunk. "You really didn't know? No, I can see you didn't. You'd better get your own things packed." He nodded towards Rob's trunk, still standing at the foot of his bed.

"Explain."

"Lord and Lady Yelden are having a house party, including the Strettons, Moorven, and our friend Bengrove and his family. Possibly more. The intention is that Miss Stretton can become properly reacquainted with the dear captain before any wedding arrangements are made."

"Moorven told you all this?" Why hadn't Moorven told him ?

"He wrote, yes. Moorven was invited, and Stretton suggested to him that you and I could also come—be part of the gathering, that is, not just give our report and leave. I believe the reason Stretton gave for inviting Moorven was so that Alfred Bengrove could have a friendly face from Verdun in case he felt out of place."

The two men's eyes met, and Rob shook his head, smiling. "Stretton doesn't really think that, does he? "

"The invitation came via Moorven, so I don't know. But I doubt it. I suspect Moorven knows what he's up to."

"I can't hang around at a house party watching that arse making up to Miss Stretton," Rob protested. "You can deliver the report yourself. I'll take myself back to Gloucestershire."

"Ah, to the lass your sister-in-law wants you to marry."

"Stow it," Rob said, but without heat.

"Look at it another way, Rob. Won't Alfred Bengrove enjoy having three of us there who all heard how he talked about Miss Stretton when he thought no word would get back to her or her father about it?"

"You have a point," Rob had to admit. Perhaps she might finally see Bengrove for what he was. Or her father might come to his senses and forbid the match.

"And if Miss Stretton decides against him, we will be three extra pairs of eyes to make sure our beloved Bengrove doesn't try anything underhand to get his way."

"I suppose, if you put it that way…"

"I do. And Moorven did. To be honest, Rob, if Stretton is pleased with our report, it is possible more work may be forthcoming, and I can't afford to let an opportunity like that pass. If he wants me at the house party—for whatever reason—I'll be there. And you…" Chadwick pointed in emphasis. "You were of material help in coming to our conclusion, so doing as Stretton wishes now may be good for your future, too."

He was right again, curse him. Rob sighed, and opened his trunk.

Rob caught sight of Yelden Court as the chaise turned between massive stone gateposts. The well-proportioned building was built of brick with stone quoins and rows of tall windows. It would have looked intimidating to him only a month ago, but having stayed in Moorven's town house, he had become more accustomed to grand surroundings. The warm red of the bricks gave it a friendly, welcoming appearance, despite the gloomy weather, and Rob began to think that the visit would not be too bad after all.

The chaise drew to a halt on the gravel in front of a shallow flight of steps, and a footman came out to open the door. He looked slightly askance at their plain clothing, rather rumpled and travel-stained from their travels, until a stately butler appeared in the doorway above them and cleared his throat. The footman bowed and went to unstrap their luggage.

"Captain Delafield and Lieutenant Chadwick," Rob said to the butler when they reached the door. "To see Mr Stretton."

The man bowed. "Welcome to Yelden Court, gentlemen. My name is Stevenson." He waved a hand and another footman came to take their hats and coats. "I'm afraid accommodation is in rather short supply at the moment," he went on, a note of apology in his voice. "Lady Yelden hoped that you would not mind sharing a room."

"Not at all," Rob said, and Chadwick nodded.

Stevenson inclined his head. "I will have your trunks taken up."

"The butler doesn't seem too put out about two non-gentlemen," Rob said quietly as they followed a footman up a grand central staircase.

Their room was at the back of the building, overlooking the stables. It was large enough for the two beds, a couple of armchairs, and a small table, as well as a wardrobe and commodious chest of drawers. Rob looked around with interest; they had obviously been given one of the lesser bedrooms, decorated plainly, but there was no sign of fading in the curtains or wear on the carpet.

A footman deposited their luggage in the room, then another man arrived carrying a large jug of hot water. "My name is Parry, sirs. Lord Moorven sent me to assist you during your stay. I have unpacked the trunks that you sent ahead." He crossed the room to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Several sets of clothing hung there, including the one new outfit that Rob had managed to obtain since his return from France. The clothing he had left at Moorven's house on Grosvenor Street.

Parry pulled a letter from a pocket and held it out. "This is for you." It wasn't clear which of them he meant, so Rob took it and broke the seal.

My apologies, gentlemen. I have to be elsewhere on family matters, so I leave you to enjoy Bengrove's company without me. I have sent your clothing on.

M

"Moorven isn't coming." Rob held the note out to Chadwick.

"If you would care to change, sirs," Parry said, "I will lay out your clothing while you wash."

Taking the path of least resistance, Rob allowed himself to be managed without protest, suppressing a grin at Chadwick's grimace when Parry tied a fancy knot in his cravat.

"I'm sure you'll learn to dress yourself one day," Rob said as the door finally shut behind the valet. "Moorven obviously thought you would persuade me to come."

"It seems so," Chadwick muttered. "Bloody managing bastard."

"You didn't know he was going to organise you as well?" Rob said, trying not to laugh. "The biter bit, eh?"

"Bloody liberty, stealing a man's clothes like that," Chadwick said. "Dressed up like a…"

"Gentleman?" Rob suggested.

"But I'm not, am I?"

"You can give a good impression of being one. I'm not either, by many people's standards. Not a title anywhere on my family tree."

"Your family has land; that makes you gentry. Mill owners are not generally considered as such."

"So? Stretton doesn't care, nor does Moorven. They're the two people most likely to be helpful."

Chadwick ran his finger inside his cravat, in a gesture that Rob recognised.

"Don't worry, John. If the other guests don't like us, I'm sure there will be a billiards room or a library we can hide in. Come on, time to go and find Stretton."

And his daughter.