The Intrepid Miss Haydon Read online

  THE INTREPID MISS HAYDON

  Alice Chetwynd Ley

  For Ken and Graham,

  in memory of an excellent bottle of Saumur wine shared at the Relais des Pins.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A NOTE TO THE READER

  MORE BOOKS BY ALICE CHETWYND LEY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mrs Haydon’s elegant house in the classical style was situated in the exclusive road known as Mount Ephraim in the Kentish spa of Tunbridge Wells. It was set well back from the broad thoroughfare amid trees, and the windows of its upper rooms looked out over the green common which sloped down to the main part of the town.

  On an afternoon in early March 1803, Mrs Haydon was sitting in the drawing room, which was tastefully decorated in green and gold, with her four daughters. They presented a charming picture as they sat with heads dutifully bent over their embroidery, although their tongues worked rather faster than their needles. Lydia, the eldest, a slim young matron of two and twenty not long married to Lieutenant John Beresford of the Royal Navy, had hair of a rich corn colour and clear blue eyes. Her sister Corinna, two years younger, had once been dubbed ‘the golden maid’ by one of her more poetic admirers, because of her unusual golden eyes, which almost matched her gold-brown curls. Corinna was of a romantic disposition, but this had proved too much for her sense of humour, and she had later shared the joke with her sisters.

  Irene and Anthea were still in the schoolroom at sixteen and fourteen respectively, but already they bid fair to be as attractive as their elders. Irene was of the same colouring as Lydia, but Anthea’s hair was dark brown and she had not yet lost her puppy fat.

  A remark just made by Lydia had caused Corinna to allow her embroidery to fall unheeded into her lap. Needlework never prospered with Corinna. It was not a form of employment which appealed to her volatile temperament; and when, as now, she was persuaded to embark on a piece of work, it was most likely to end in the rag bag.

  “A visit to Paris!” she exclaimed in ecstasy, repeating Lydia’s words. “Oh, what a famous notion, Lyddy. How I envy you!”

  Mrs Haydon did not share her enthusiasm.

  “Are you sure that’s wise, my dear?” she asked dubiously. “I confess it makes me uneasy to think of your going to France. To be sure, we’re no longer at war with the French, but it’s only a year since peace was declared, and when one thinks of the dreadful things that occurred there during the Reign of Terror…”

  “But all that was ten years since, Mama,” replied Lydia, in the reasoning tone one uses to a child. “Law and order is completely restored there now. Indeed, they say Napoleon Bonaparte is an altogether admirable administrator. John is quite set on the scheme, I assure you, for he’s a trifle restless after so many months ashore.”

  “Restless?” Corinna looked shocked. “When you have been married less than a twelve-month? Upon my word, that’s prodigiously unromantic, Lyddy — I should have supposed that he would wish for nothing more than to be at your side.”

  Lydia laughed, but not unkindly.

  “My dear sister, even the most devoted couple cannot spend the rest of their lives in gazing into each other’s eyes! If one marries an officer in the Royal Navy, one must accept the fact that one’s husband will never be entirely content to be ashore for long.”

  “I don’t see why not,” persisted Corinna. “His brother seems content enough.”

  “But Richard, being the elder, has the estate to manage, and that occupies all his energies. I dare say if John is not recalled soon to active service we may perhaps purchase a small estate of our own, later on. But at present he’s still hopeful of a recall, and we do very well in the property Richard found for us a few miles from Chyngton Manor. It’s high time you all paid us a visit there, Mama. We’re not so far from the gaieties of Brighton, and the girls would welcome the change, I know.”

  This suggestion found instant favour with Irene and Anthea, who at once began persuading their Mama to agree to it.

  “Well, we shall see,” temporized Mrs Haydon, never one to embark hastily on a project. “But if your sister is to visit France, it cannot be for some time, in any event. I suppose, Lydia, that it will mean an absence of several months? Naturally, since your husband wishes it, I must not try to set you against the scheme. I trust I’ve inculcated in all my daughters the principles of duty and submission to a husband which every right-thinking female must observe.”

  Lydia and Corinna exchanged speaking glances at this, while the two younger girls hastily stifled giggles.

  “Don’t depend upon that, Mama!” laughed Corinna. “I can’t speak for the others, of course, but I doubt I’d make a submissive wife!”

  Her golden brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “I sometimes have grave misgivings as to whether I shall ever see you a wife at all!” retorted her Mama tartly. “At the age of twenty, one might surely expect your thoughts to be turning towards matrimony, and goodness knows you don’t lack for admirers! But I’ve yet to see you give any one of them the smallest encouragement!”

  Corinna shrugged, but her look was wary. “Oh, they are all such dead bores, Mama.”

  “You’re a deal too fastidious, is all I can say. You should have a care, lest you’re quite left on the shelf! But I fancy I know the reason of it,” she went on, in a gentler tone, “and I do implore you, my dear child—”

  “Pray excuse me, Mama.” Corinna rose hastily, casting her needlework aside. “I feel the need of some air — I’ll take a turn or two in the shrubbery.”

  The door closed behind her. Lydia shook her head reprovingly at her mother.

  “You shouldn’t, Mama. You know it does no good at all.”

  Mrs Haydon’s cheeks showed a slight flush.

  “It puts me out of all patience!” Then, turning to the younger girls, whose ears were alert: “Irene and Anthea, pray take your needlework into the schoolroom! I wish to speak to your sister alone.”

  They rose obediently, but their expressions registered keen disappointment. The conversation was evidently about to take an interesting turn, and they felt a natural disinclination to be excluded from it. Mrs Haydon kept her lips firmly closed until the door had shut behind her two youngest offspring and then said, bitterly, “Of course she’s still hankering after that young gentleman Fabian Grenville, I know that well enough. But it’s a prodigious waste of time, as she must realise herself that nothing will ever come of it! Oh, why did he have to take it into his head to visit Tunbridge Wells last summer? I’m sure there is ample choice for a gentleman like himself, with no ties of any kind!”

  “But you must know all about that, Mama, because Richard explained it to you at the time. Fabian Grenville was seeking a wealthy marriage to mend his fortunes, and he’d already cast his net without success in London and Brighton before deciding to try his luck in the Wells. Old Grenville was as hardened a gambler as his son, besides bringing his mistresses into t
he house. It’s no wonder that the Beresfords were never on intimate terms with that family, in spite of being near neighbours!”

  “No, indeed. Dear Sir William and his wife, Lottie, could have nothing to do with such a man! But have you any notion, my dear, where that young man is at present? Not for worlds would I have Corinna fall into his way again!”

  Lydia shook her head. “No, Mama, I haven’t. But I would hazard a guess that he is still trying elsewhere for an heiress — that is, if he hasn’t succeeded already in capturing one. It was a close run thing with the Pemberton girl when he was here last summer, was it not?”

  Mrs Haydon nodded grimly.

  “Indeed it was. She was whisked off by her relatives in the nick of time once they had learned from connections in London that he was a gazetted fortune hunter. But Corinna is quite well aware of his situation and knows that her fortune is not large enough to tempt him — that was made abundantly clear when he transferred his attentions from her to Miss Pemberton!

  “How long do you suppose this nonsense will continue? It’s seven months or so since he quitted the town, and Corinna must know very well that he will never return on her account. Any right-minded girl would have taken him in disgust when he so blatantly transferred his attentions from herself to another female!”

  “Oh, she’ll get over it in time, never fear,” replied Lydia bracingly. “I don’t think, Mama, you allow sufficiently for Corinna’s romantic disposition. After all, she was only nineteen and it was the first time that any gentleman had ever taken her fancy. I dare say,” she added shrewdly, “that she may secretly be feeding her infatuation, thinking it a romantic situation to be crossed in love! I fail to detect any signs of genuine suffering in her.”

  “Then you think there’s nothing to be done — about your sister, I mean? Nothing but wait for her to come to her senses? You don’t feel it might perhaps help if you were to talk to her?”

  “I might as well address myself to the moon, Mama! No, I have a better notion altogether. Why do you not let her come with us to France? A change of scene will give her thoughts a new direction, and she may well meet some eligible young men among the English visitors. I am positive she’d like the scheme vastly!”

  Mrs Haydon appeared much struck by the wisdom of this suggestion, and she urged Lydia to follow Corinna into the garden and put it to her.

  Corinna had left the house feeling decidedly ruffled, and it had taken quite ten minutes of brisk walking in the shrubbery to calm her. Why could not Mama let her alone? It was surely her own concern whether or not she chose to marry, and whom. As if any of those young men who dangled after her could stir any of those tumultuous emotions which had started to life when first Fabian Grenville had taken her hand to lead her into the dance. She could never forget him — never!

  There could be no shame, she reflected defiantly, in his need to marry for money. Many gentlemen were in a similar situation, especially when — like Mr Grenville — their fathers had wasted the inheritance which should have come to them. No wonder if he were a gambler, with such an example; the love of a good woman — here she paused doubtfully in her high flights, unable quite to recognise herself in this guise — must surely redeem him from his youthful follies. That he had been in love with her, she refused to doubt. She hoped she was not conceited; but surely no man could possibly prefer the plain, gushing Miss Pemberton to herself? She was convinced that, had she been in possession of a fortune equal to Miss Pemberton’s, the issue could never have been in doubt. He had given her ample proof of his attachment, and most likely was now nursing a broken heart to match her own.

  At this stage in her reverie an unwelcome interruption occurred with the appearance of Lydia’s brother-in-law on the path she was following. Sir Richard Beresford was a man in his late twenties, taller than average and of slim build, though with a suggestion of muscular strength due, no doubt, to his interest in sporting activities. His fair hair was at present rather more windswept than the dictates of fashion decreed, while his usually immaculate top boots and breeches were dusty.

  He apologised for this with a rueful gesture; but before he could speak, Corinna greeted him, frowning.

  “Oh — so you’re back,” she said, in a flat tone.

  He raised his brows. “No, really?” His pleasant voice held the hint of a drawl. “Deuced perceptive of you to notice.”

  She shrugged impatiently. “I’m not in the mood for funning.”

  “In a miff, are you?” He looked amused.

  “No, I’m not!”

  “I apologise for putting that badly,” he said in mock humility. “I should have said instead that something must have occurred to put you out.”

  “Well, yes, it has,” she admitted reluctantly.

  He fell into step beside her, moderating his long, easy stride to her shorter one.

  “If you wish me at the devil, don’t hesitate to say so,” he invited. “Otherwise, perhaps you may like to tell me about it?”

  “Oh, it’s Mama and Lydia,” she complained. “They will keep nagging about my being married!”

  He checked in his stride, a frown on his brows.

  “Being married?” he repeated, and there was no drawl in his voice now. “Why, what is this? Lydia has said nothing of it. Are you betrothed? Who is the lucky man?”

  She laughed, and at that some of the tension went out of him.

  “Oh, no, stupid! The boot’s quite on the other foot — they wish I were! Mama keeps on and on about it — she says I shall be left on the shelf, if I don’t take care!”

  “I don’t think that at all likely,” he remarked calmly as they resumed their pacing towards the house.

  “Yes, well, I’d rather be left on the shelf than marry some of the gentlemen whom Mama thinks suitable,” she said without heat, having now almost recovered her temper. “I’ve known them all my life — as is natural, since they reside in and around Tunbridge Wells — and nothing could be more odiously boring!”

  “You think it a disadvantage to have known a suitor all your life? Then you can’t possibly approve of your sister’s marriage to my brother, I collect?”

  She coloured a little. “Oh, no, I don’t say that! It’s very well for Lydia, and I’m sure she never even considered anyone else. But then, you see, she’s not like me — she is not — not—”

  He gave her a quizzical smile.

  “Can the word be — romantic?”

  “Perhaps so, and what is wrong with that, pray?” she flashed at him. “Can’t a girl have dreams of something more exciting than being married to a man she’s known since she was in leading strings?”

  He nodded. “Certainly. But perhaps she should be wary, too. There’s a saying you must have heard: ‘Better the devil you know.’ Dreams, my Sleeping Beauty, can sometimes lead to a rude awakening.”

  “Oh, if that isn’t just like you — you must always be cynical!” she exclaimed in disgust. “I declare, you put me out of all patience!”

  “I’m sorry for it. Perhaps it’s just as well that your sister is here.”

  Looking up, Corinna saw Lydia standing at the end of the path, gesticulating excitedly.

  “Come along, you two, it’s time to change for dinner,” she commanded, as she ran impulsively forward to meet them. “Corinna, I’ve a scheme to suggest to you, and for once Mama is in full agreement with it!”

  She paused tantalizingly, seeing with satisfaction that she had their full attention.

  “Well, out with it, then! Why must you be such a tease, Lyddy?”

  Corinna’s face was alight with curiosity.

  “It is this,” went on Lydia, as they all took the path back to the house. “How would you like to come with us to France?”

  For answer, Corinna flung her arms about her sister in an ecstasy of delight, stammering incoherent expressions of gratitude.

  “Well, I thought you’d like it,” said Lydia complacently. “And we shall take you back with us to Sussex in a day or tw
o, for we mean to set out for the Continent without undue delay. That’s to say,” she added, turning to Sir Richard, “if Richard does not object to offering you a seat in his carriage?”

  Sir Richard bowed. “My poor equipage will be honoured by your presence, ma’am.”

  Lydia chortled. “Poor equipage, indeed! That’s doing it too brown. Why, it’s the best sprung I was ever in, not to mention the handsome blue velour upholstery! But you’ll say I am toad-eating, you detestable creature, though it’s no such thing! He is so — so — contrary, is he not, Corinna?”

  “To be sure,” agreed Corinna, her golden brown eyes twinkling. “I’ve come to cuffs with him once already on that account. But I must say,” she added, relenting as he assumed a suitably chastened air, “I was in a mood to quarrel with a saint. However, that’s all forgotten now.”

  She took his arm with a pretty gesture of confidence, and Sir Richard smiled down at her, though the expression in his eyes was guarded.

  “Does Richard go with you to France?” she asked Lydia.

  “Oh, no! He thinks the peace uneasy, and tried to persuade us against the venture at first, but John pooh-poohed the notion. There was something said in Parliament a few weeks back about hostile preparations being made in the French and Dutch ports.”

  “But surely no one can wish to go to war again!” exclaimed Corinna incredulously. “Besides, if one took heed of every alarm, one would scarce dare to venture outside one’s own door!”

  “Exactly what John feels,” agreed Lydia. “So we are to go, despite the douche of cold water with which Richard greeted our scheme. I’m sure he’ll wish later that he’d decided to accompany us, aren’t you, Corinna? We shall have famous fun!”

  Corinna agreed, looking up challengingly into Sir Richard’s face.

  “Perhaps I may,” he said, yielding to an impulse. “Very well, Lydia, I’ll make one of your party, after all.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  It had not been Sir Richard Beresford’s wish to adopt the role of mentor to the Haydon family, but circumstances had forced him into it. Like most females of genteel birth, Mrs Haydon could never be entirely comfortable without the support and advice of a gentleman in regulating her affairs. When her husband had died some eight years previously, her only son had been a boy of ten years, and she had no other close male kin. It had seemed natural, therefore, to turn to the man who had been her husband’s lifelong friend, Sir William Beresford.