Page 47 of The Chaperone
The two young ladies, accompanied by a maid carrying the valise, and three slim volumes, stepped out into Hill Street, and turned left towards Berkeley Square.
‘Are you sure you would not prefer to visit Mme Clément first, Susan?’ enquired Harriet, helpfully.
‘Ah, but if we are delayed there, Harriet, we will find the library far too busy, and with far less chance of taking out the books we would care to read. No, let us go to Conduit Street on our return journey.’
This seemed a sensible plan of action, and so the trio made their way to Hookham’s Library, and Susan handed back the books, of which she had not actually bothered to read more than the first and last chapters. The gentleman who took them from her gloved clasp received a smile which brightened his day.
Harriet, cudgelling her brain for the name of the author of the novel her friend had recommended, scanned along the shelves and was, in a few minutes, engrossed. The maid stood back respectfully, and wondered at the point of reading things that were not true, but then she came from a family where the only book ever quoted was the Bible, and that not by actually reading its pages. Susan relieved the girl, with a kindly smile, of the valise.
Whilst Harriet searched for her book, her cousin moved to another line of shelves, taking out the odd leather-bound book, until she was near to the door, and out of Harriet’s sight. Then Susan, her valise in her hand, and a secret smile of triumph upon her lips, slipped out of Hookham’s Circulating Library and stepped the few yards to Piccadilly, where she boldly hailed a cab.
She directed the jarvey to the Knightsbridge Barracks where the Life Guards were lodged, and then realised that she had a problem. However little she cared for public opinion, a young lady with a small valise knocking upon the door and requesting to speak to a particular officer would not do. She paid off the cab, and stood, feeling rather conspicuous upon the other side of the Knightsbridge Road, and for once in her life wished she had a maid with her. A man passing by touched his hat respectfully, but the look that accompanied it made her stiffen and glare at him. A faint feeling of panic made her stomach turn over. Then she saw a lad sweep a crossing for a lady some hundred yards along the road. She fumbled in her reticule and found three pennies. That was surely enough? She walked with every appearance of assurance to where the youth awaited further employment and raised her hand. He approached and tugged his forelock.
‘I do not wish to cross, but I have three pennies if you will take a message to the Guardroom for Captain Lord Edward Wittenham.’
‘Captain Lord Edward Wittingham, miss.’
‘Wittenham. Be sure of the name. You must tell them it is a matter of extreme importance, and await him. Then tell him Miss Tyneham wishes to speak with him immediately. If he is upon his duties elsewhere,’ she hoped most fervently that he was not, ‘come back and inform me of it.’ Her tone softened, and she gave the lad, who was perhaps a few years her junior, a wide-eyed look. ‘I am depending upon you, totally.’
With the thought of this stunning young lady depending upon him, and three pennies for his pocket, the crossing sweeper was prepared to risk having his ear clipped. He crossed the road and disappeared into the entrance of the barracks. Susan waited, at first pleased that he had not come back to say the gentleman was at Horse Guards, and then worried that he was out upon his own business. However, after a long five minutes, the scrubby youth reappeared, followed by the smart figure of Lord Edward Wittenham, who was frowning.
‘Miss Tyneham, but … Ma’am, what are you doing here?’ He waved the sweeper away. Susan thought that he did not sound delighted to see her. She took her handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes.
‘Lord Edward, I am so very sorry, I do know it is perfectly scandalous that I should be here but … Oh, sir, if you but knew my predicament.’ She stifled a sob, and Lord Edward looked about him, even more uncomfortable.
‘Really ma’am, I am sure—’
‘There is no other person I can trust, none to whom I can turn, orphan that I am!’ Miss Tyneham was a great loss to the theatre. She stared up at him with great wet eyes, and it would have taken a stronger man than Wittenham to resist them, even though his instincts were telling him he was being bamboozled. ‘My brother Tyneham, he has told my cousins that I must marry Lord Pinkney, and unless I do so I am to be kept almost a prisoner. I may not even leave the house without one of them. I … I was deceived by Lord Pinkney, but now I have seen more of him, he frightens me.’ She finished the sentence in a very little-girl voice. It made her sound as if being thrown to a wild beast.
‘But everyone knows Pinkney hasn’t a feather to fly with.’ Lord Edward frowned.
‘Ah yes, but he has some relation who has died and is now about to become really rather wealthy.’
‘Still does not stop him being a dashed loose screw.’ Lord Edward spoke and then coloured. ‘Not that I should use such language before a young lady. I cannot credit it.’
‘You think I would make such a thing up? Risk everything by escaping the house, coming here, alone, in a grimy cab, to turn to the only man in London who can protect me?’
Good sense told him she would do exactly that.
‘No, of course not, but—’
She could see him wavering, and played her ace.
‘If you do not assist me, sir, I shall have no alternative but to …’ She blinked away a tear. ‘The Thames is fast flowing, I believe.’ She looked the picture of tragic virginity.
Cornered, the worried captain assured her such a fate could not be hers, and that he would help her.
‘But you cannot stand about here, ma’am, on the public thoroughfare. Let me find you a parlour and coffee at a hostelry while I … make arrangements. I can say you are my sister, so all will be right and tight.’
He took her elbow and guided her to the nearby Halfway House, and there bespoke a private parlour until his return. Susan regarded him with a little suspicion.
‘You will return.’
‘Upon my honour, I will return.’
Lord Edward was thinking on his feet. His first thought was that he had to see his colonel.
‘I have to request leave of absence, upon … compassionate grounds, sir. It is my sister, Amelia, Lady Holt, in Buckinghamshire. Holt died suddenly last November, and I am the only member of the family available at the present.’
