Regency Masquerade

Chapter Ten

Ten o'clock the next morning, found Frances loading her two bags into the coach Carleton had hired to drive to Surrey. His own four well-matched chestnuts champed impatiently at the bit and his groom clung to the back. As soon as they left the crowded streets of London, Carleton set the horses along at a brisk pace, eager to reach Chatswood by nightfall.

He handled the reins expertly and Frances enjoyed watching him from her seat alongside. At one stage he offered her the reins but she declined, "I've never had much practice, my lord. I'm not sure I could manage them and I am certain I could not keep up this pace."

"So that is one thing I can beat you at, eh?" grinned Carleton. Frances smiled, unruffled, and enjoyed the clean fresh air, breathing deeply. "It is wonderful to get out of London for a few days, everything is so green in England!"

They stopped to change the horses and have a quick bite to eat at an inn, but were soon their way again.

"Chatswood is near a village called Selby," explained Carleton as they drew nearer to their destination. "It has been in my family for about a hundred years, 'tis a snug property, not huge but big enough for my needs. My nearest neighbour is Squire Herbert and his wife. They have a daughter still in the schoolroom and three lads. The youngest may be coming to Chatswood soon to learn the business involved in running an estate with my agent. He is interested in bookkeeping, rather to his father's disgust." He looked at Frances for a minute.

"The squire is a hunting man and cannot see how anyone could be interested in anything else! I shall have to call on him, but there probably will not be time for formal socialising."

Frances nodded, suddenly a little nervous. Just what was she letting herself in for? "I should probably keep a low profile," she offered tactfully. Carleton could scarcely wish to introduce a professional gamester to his neighbours. London was one thing, but the country was something else entirely.

The sun had just set when they trotted through the gates of Chatswood. The road wound gradually through an avenue of oak trees until it opened suddenly to reveal a circular driveway with a large stone house behind. The building, Frances discovered later, was in the shape of an 'E' with the middle stroke missing and was several stories high. Feeling rather overwhelmed, she got down and followed Carleton up the steps to where an elderly man in black stood waiting to receive him.

"Welcome home, my lord."

"How are you, Williams?" asked his lordship smiling. "This is Mr Francis who will be staying with me for a while." He looked around. "Is Maddy about?"

The butler was smiling too and answered, "Oh yes, my lord, Mrs Madden will be down in a minute."

The groom who had travelled with them, organised the removal of the luggage from the coach and then drove it round the back to the stables. By this time they had been ushered into the hall and a small, neatly dressed woman was almost running down the stairs to greet Carleton. He caught her hands in his and kissed her cheek. "No need to ask how you are, Maddy! As blooming as ever I see!"

She smiled at him, "None of your sauce, my lord," but Frances could tell she was flattered. He let her go and her eyes went to Peter standing behind him. "Peter, this is Mrs Madden, she used to be our governess and now she keeps the house running for me. Maddy, this is Peter Francis, he'll be staying with me." Mrs Madden looked rather closely at Frances, who held her gaze steadily and bowed politely.

She looked suddenly worried, "My lord, you didn't tell me you were bringing a friend. I've only had your room prepared."

"Oh dear," exclaimed his lordship guiltily. "Well perhaps Peter could have a bed made up in my room tonight."

Before Frances could open her mouth to protest, Mrs Madden said hastily and with unexpected firmness, "Nonsense, Mr Richard, that wouldn't do at all. There is the room your cousin had last week on his way up to Yorkshire, that wouldn't take much to make presentable."

"Alright, Maddy, except that Peter can have my room for tonight and I'll have Theo's. Then we won't need to worry about anything until tomorrow. I can tell Peter is nearly asleep on his feet - up all night worrying were you?"

Frances nodded and between conflicting desires not to make any trouble and to collapse as soon as possible, was overrun by Lord Carleton's hospitable instincts. Maddy bowed to the inevitable and disappeared to check on his Lordship's dinner and arrange for clean sheets and a warming pan for his bed.

"I'm very sorry, my lord," apologised Frances, "All this fresh air must have gone to my head. I'm afraid I'm not very good company for you tonight."

"No matter, I'll show you to your room if you like and you can retire immediately."

"Thank you," murmured Frances, stifling a yawn.

The room Carleton had temporarily given up for her was rich and warm looking. Panelled wood covered the walls and a huge four poster bed stood in the centre with crimson curtains drawn back. Thick floral carpet covered the floor, and a large set of drawers opposite matched the cedar panelling. A fire burned cosily in the grate and the window revealed a darkening view of the drive and oak plantations beyond. Carleton drew the gold brocade curtains across the window and went to the door.

"Sleep well, lad. I'll see you at breakfast in the morning?"

Peter nodded and thanked his lordship again for the room. Alone, Frances pulled off her boots and breeches. She took out a masculine looking nightshirt and undressed beneath it on the off chance that a manservant might be sent to assist her. In fact, no sooner had she jumped into bed than someone knocked softly on her door. At her command of 'Enter,' a slight man in servants' livery stepped into the room.

"Lord Carleton asked me to offer my services, sir," he said courteously. "I'm Fanshaw."

"Thank you, Fanshaw. If you would just see to my boots, that would be fine."

"Very good, sir, and perhaps I may take the breeches? I fancy I see a spot of mud on them."

"Oh. Yes, thank you, Fanshaw."

Taking the articles, the manservant bowed noiselessly out of the room. I'll have to be careful around Fanshaw, thought Frances, he'll insist on helping me dress in the morning I'll wager.

She snuggled down under the blankets and was soon sound asleep.