The Fencing Master's Daughter Read online

  If their colours of rose pink and a very pale green were not the white expected of a debutante, then her pale colouring and mature age would make allowances. Simple day dresses with a minimum of embellishment in pale blue, lilac and pink together with a new redingote in an emerald green took some time to achieve. Their simplicity of design was intended by Madelaine to make her fade into the background, but in fact they merely accentuated her beauty, leaving little to distract from her pure complexion and sweetness of expression. Matching reticules for her evening gowns and redingote followed and she stripped the flowers and ribbons from a straw bonnet and redressed it with a knot of pale green ribbons and a pair of emerald-dyed ostrich plumes.

  A few careful purchases of slippers, gloves, stockings and shawl completed her wardrobe until she considered that the visit would be spent in the country and Edward had extolled the virtues of his stables at Chalcombe Manor. So a further shopping trip found some royal blue superfine from which she created a riding habit in the hussar style, so she could ride without feeling ashamed of her bedraggled and once much-used habit, which she had last used in Hungary. Her half boots, which she used for riding, were still in reasonable condition, having been carefully maintained. She found a plain bonnet similar in shape to a hussar’s headgear and covered it with the remnants of the blue superfine, adding a single curling feather as decoration.

  By the end of November, Madelaine had forced herself to acquiesce to Edward's regular evening escort and was allowing herself to converse more freely, discussing the cities and countries they had both visited, Wellington’s military tactics and the progress of the Peninsula war, together with brief additions in French and English from Henri on foreign cuisine. The contents of her wardrobe had been nearly doubled and she changed the ribbons on one of her better older day dresses and altered an out-of-date evening dress of heavy ivory satin which she had worn years previously on the continent. The material was still good, having been carefully stored but the lower waistline was long out of fashion.

  The voluminous style however gave her plenty of material to cut into the simple high-waisted current mode. The addition of some silver gauze and artificial seed pearls with pale turquoise beading embroidered into forget-me-nots over the bodice and edges of the small puff sleeves made her look exquisite as she tried on the dress, with her hair unbound for the final fitting, before storing it for the visit. Henri whistled as he saw her parade before the mirrors in the salle. He himself was beginning to see the advantages of Madelaine becoming engaged to Edward, he warmed to the man who despite being English, seemed to Henri to have a continental soul.

  Henri knew better than to attempt to promote Edward's suit to Madelaine, for to him she continued to vociferously complain of her inability to sway either Edward or Louis from the forthcoming visit and her rejection of the proposed marriage had strengthened over the passing days. Madelaine would have been a very unusual female indeed, if she did not experience some pleasure looking forward to wearing pretty dresses, reassuring herself no one could fault her in how she dressed, she went about repairing Louis's clothes, making him two new fine linen shirts, purchasing him some new cravats and stockings and even using the remnants of the pale green silk to manufacture him another coloured waistcoat, embroidering the edges with kestrels and rearing horses in golden thread, which she had now discovered made up her family coat of arms.

  Madelaine hemmed and initialled some new handkerchiefs for her father and her own use; then she managed to obtain some second hand travelling cases in good condition, to pack their belongings in, which completed her preparations for the visit by the beginning of December. Madelaine then bethought herself of how shabby Henri had become and forced him out to a men's clothier catering for the serving classes and bought him a new suit of plain black livery, and replaced the most worn of his other garments, including his greatcoat, which had decidedly seen better days. This object was found on examination to have various stains and rents from unexplained sources and at least two holes which appeared to be from pistol shots, the existence of which Henri refused to acknowledge

  When Madelaine reduced her days at Claudette's, Edward tried to invite her for drives in his carriage or curricle, or to take an ice at Gunter’s, but she rejected all his invitations. He thought better of seeking her father's support in his invitations, because Madelaine would have clearly resented the interference, but he hoped over the Christmas visit, he would succeed in breaking down her resistance or at least discover why she was so determined to reject his suit. He had informed his mother of his plans for Christmas and invited his sister Sophia and her husband.

  Lady Chalcombe had accepted with very little demur, the prospect of entertaining the unknown penniless French émigrés, Lady Madelaine Devereaux and her father, the Chevalier Louis Devereaux, with a view to Edward becoming engaged to the former. She patently disbelieved his assertion that Madelaine did not regard his proposal favourably, but was in total agreement that Madelaine was very beautiful. What sensible girl would prevaricate for a moment over an offer from her son? Deciding to accept his choice of fiancée as being preferable to her son Edward remaining unwed, she resolved to put a good face on it and hoped at least she could learn to like the girl.

  Chapter Nine - D'avance

  After the attempts upon Edward’s life several of his staff had been offered bribes for information about his movements. Both a stable lad and a maid reported being offered half guineas, but they had given a prompt refusal and withdrawn from the contact. The third attempt at bribery occurred when two of Edward's footmen were having a heavy wet in the public room of the Running Horse in Davies Street.

  Peter Firth and young John Pennywise had been allowed the evening off, as the earl and her ladyship were attending a select evening party in town and were not expected to return to the early hours. The footmen were standing at the bar chewing the bacon together, when a foreign sounding gentleman, dressed in black attempted to buy them a pint of beer.

  John was considering accepting, but Peter remembered the warning and squeezed his shoulder. John and Peter politely said “No thank you, sir.”

  The man tried again.

  “Please let me buy you both a drink, lads, what’s your pleasure? Another pint of mine host’s best or maybe something stronger?” The stranger continued obsequiously.

  “No thank you, sir,” repeated Peter and drew John away to sit in the furthest corner of the tavern. They sat down and continued their conversation. “Do you think it’s true that the Corsican monster has to retreat from Russia?” John asked Peter as he had been reading the earl’s paper before he ironed it.

  “Sounds like Bonaparte got badly whipped this time.”

  “About time I think. Do you want another Peter? My round isn’t it?” As John went to get up, the stranger in black brought over two tankards of beer for them.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” he said as he sat beside them. “I don’t know many people in London.”

  John was a little embarrassed about the man’s intrusion. “Thank you for the beer,” he said and Peter echoed him.

  “I’m only in town on some business, where do you work?” asked the stranger. Peter said nothing, but thought their footmen’s uniform with their master’s crest on their chest should have been a pretty good indicator.

  “We work as footmen for the Earl of Chalcombe,” John said proud of his position, and Peter kicked him under the table.

  “Is he a good employer? I suppose you can always do with a few extra guineas,” he smoothly suggested.

  “What would you want in return for these guineas?” Peter asked suspiciously.

  “Only a little information…oof” the foreigner replied, but was cut short by Peter’s fist connecting with his gut.

  “Try to make us spy on his lordship, will you, Take that!” Peter declared slightly late but he followed up with a flourishing left to the chin. Peter was a well-developed lad and the interloper went down hard. The man scrabbled back to his f
eet quickly, but shook his head as if his wits had gone begging. John had also stood and both footmen were advancing menacingly towards their adversary.

  “He’s the one Jenkins was warning us about. He tried to murder my lord!” Peter declared.

  “Now boys, take it outside or I’ll have to call the watch on you,” interrupted mine host in a friendly manner.

  Peter reached for the man’s arm, grabbing it with a brawny fist, then his other hand connected this time with the man’s nose.

  “Take it outside, I said,” repeated the innkeeper.

  “We’re going, Stanley. John grab his other arm!”

  The pair of footmen bundled the foreigner out of the inn into the street. Hitting the chill air, John found he was a trifle disguised, but he rallied and his fists delivered a couple of heavy wallops to the man, still held by his senior comrade. They may have lacked science, but it was bellows to mend with their victim. Both lads were a bit jug-bitten and were not completely thinking straight. They continued to drub the man, and his claret now had been drawn properly, as his nose was leaking blood profusely. The man in black tried to hit Peter back a couple of times, but was swaying on his feet. John contributed a few more of his own mashers, but he was not carrying his ale that well, as he staggered a little.

  “Peter, shouldn’t we take him back to Jenkins, for his lordship? He can call the runners after he’s had a chance to talk to this one,” John staunchly said, enunciating his words one at a time. He hoisted the battered foreigner from the gutter where he had fallen and Peter gripped the man’s other side as they dragged him back towards Grosvenor Square. But after a few halting steps, the man seemed to come to his senses. They swerved to allow another pedestrian to pass by, when he shrugged off their restraining hands and bolted down the street, the pair of inebriated footmen whooping and jeering at his heels. He fled towards the centre of town, until out of breath with the footmen gaining upon him he managed to lose his pursuers by turning off from Oxford Street into Drury Lane, where he mingled with the crowd of theatre goers as they spilled out of the theatres.

  The now sobering footmen gave a clear description of the inquisitive foreigner to the butler, Jenkins, as soon as they returned to Chalcombe House. They repeated their story to the earl, when he returned home. It was obvious to Edward his footmen had been approached by Stack's erstwhile employer and whoever that gentleman might be, he was very single-minded to find a way to do away with himself.

  Some estate matters had become pressing and needed Edward's personal attention at Chalcombe Manor and he agreed to travel together there with Julian for a short visit. Edward intended conferring with his staff about arrangements for the Christmas visit, whilst Julian was looking forward to visiting his parents and family. Security was not, however, forgotten. Edward armed both himself and Julian with a fine pair of pistols, Fulton his coach driver had been provided with a new blunderbuss and Timothy with a musket. Plovett, his valet rode in the carriage with them, but declined the offer of a pistol.

  Adding to their party a pair of well-armed sturdy outriders, named Clarke and Brown who had been selected by Charlie Griggs, they set off for Chalcombe Manor in heavy but bitingly cold rain, feeling ready to tackle almost any eventuality. They stopped only to change horses and grab a bite to eat on the way. Edward kept horses on route, so they made good time despite the weather. Not long after nightfall they halted at a large Post House, retiring to bed early after an adequate supper of steak pie and roast pork with peas.

  They were on the road just after dawn, despite a few fitful flurries of snow. The water-logged roads had frozen over night with a thin cover of ice on the deep puddles. The day passed slowly as the roads were muddy and treacherous, few other travellers had chosen to travel in such unpleasant weather. They lunched briefly on bread, cheese and ale at a small village they passed through, hoping they would make Chalcombe Manor before the end of the day. They travelled another four miles before the coach shuddered and stuck in a particularly bad rut and an audible snap was heard.

  Thrown to the floor of the carriage, shaken, bruised but otherwise unhurt, Edward and Julian clambered awkwardly out of the now tilting coach to discover one of the axles had broken. Plovett, who was less agile, had to be pulled from the carriage, but only his dignity was seriously hurt. The coach horses were rearing and snorting with fear but Timothy and Edward soon settled them down and unfastened the traces. Looking the horses over, Timothy could spot no serious, obvious damage. Fulton however had not come off so well from the accident; he was nursing a broken collar bone and would need the help of a physician, before he could travel much further. Edward strapped up his arm close to his body as best he could but from the whiteness of Fulton's face he was struggling to stay conscious with the pain.

  Finding warmth and shelter was Edward's prime concern. They had passed no dwellings since leaving the village they had taken luncheon in. So Edward sent Brown on down the road to find the nearest village and transport. Meanwhile as the snow came down more heavily, Edward set about organising the others to keep Fulton warm. He ordered Timothy to keep a watch for trouble, who stood watching the road with both his musket and Fulton's blunderbuss. Edward moved the others back from the edge of the road to the cover of a small copse of sheltering trees. Edward asked Julian and the other outrider Clarke, to find reasonably dry wood and he started a fire. Travelling rugs from the carriage were fetched and tucked around Fulton by Plovett. Plovett located his master's brandy bottle unbroken and forced a generous measure down Fulton's throat. The horses were brought close to and tied to the wrecked carriage, sheltering the stranded party with their bodies and adding heat to that of the fire.

  Reassuring himself that Fulton was now looking less like he would pass out immediately, Edward joined Timothy watching the road for a possible ambush. Sharing the duties with Julian and Clarke they took turns sitting with Fulton and Plovett and watching the road for trouble. Whichever two were minding Fulton also tended the fire but they were able to shelter from the bitter wind and snow that was settling on the road. It was nearly two hours before his outrider returned with a small cart pulled by a pair of horses. During that time no other vehicle or rider had passed in either direction, but Edward had been determined not to relax their vigilance. They carefully loaded Fulton into the cart together with the luggage from the carriage and Timothy took charge of the reins.

  Plovett elected to tend to Fulton on the journey to the next village, which was only three miles away. The time taken had been caused primarily by the difficulty in finding alternative transport. The carriage horses were ridden by Edward and Julian, neither of them dressed for riding, and his two outriders. So the party set off having put out the fire at the side of the road. The snow was now coming down heavily and settling in drifts around the roads making visibility and any speed of travel difficult. The next village was reached without further incident as true night fell.

  Brown had managed to reserve two rooms in the small inn where he had borrowed the cart. He had sent a stable boy on his own horse to fetch the nearest physician who lived a couple of miles further down the road. So when they reached the Boar's Head they were greeted by that practical gentleman who supervised the delicate transfer of Fulton to the smaller of the two bedrooms. Then with little fuss, he set the broken bone, having liberally dosed that unfortunate with laudanum. Both bedrooms already had fires lit and were warming up. The rest of the party settled down to a simple supper consisting mainly of a much-welcomed nourishing broth followed by a well-cooked haunch of roast lamb in the public room. The inn was too small to have a private parlour or coffee room. Plovett slept on a truckle bed in Fulton's room while Edward shared with Julian. Timothy, Clarke and Brown had to make do with the hay loft above the stables.

  While Edwards and his men recovered in the warmth of the Boar's Head, Charlie Griggs had finally learned something of interest from having Stacks followed. Stacks had continued to visit the Doctor Butler’s Head regularly and Charlie's man had
spotted him conversing with a foreigner in black. The watcher could not hear what they said, but it was clear it was heated. There were terse short bursts of talk combined with some dramatic hand gestures from the foreigner to longer rumbles of complaint and pleading from Stacks. The foreigner had acquired a fine shiner which was almost closing one eye and one hand was bandaged as if he had been engaging in some bare knuckle rough and tumble.

  Finding a lad to take a message to Charlie, the watcher followed the stranger rather than Eustace. The foreigner was limping slightly and walked as if in considerable discomfort, stopping every now and then as if to catch his breath. The watcher, avoiding notice, tracked him back to the house of the Helvetican ambassador. He settled to wait outside for his return, having sent another message to Charlie. Soon he was reinforced by two of Charlie's friends, who arranged to watch the building's doors, both front and rear, throughout the bitter night.

  ***

  Madelaine, having completed her sewing, found she had time on her hands; and having assisted Henri with a very thorough cleaning of the salle, their apartment, Henri's quarters and the kitchen, went back to work for Claudette four days a week despite Henri and Louis' grumbling. The refurbishment of their wardrobes had made a bigger inroad into her savings than she was prepared to let Louis know, and the extra income would help replenish her funds. However, with Edward's journey into the country, she was aware how much she had become used to the comfort of the ride home and her enjoyment of his company.