“Thank you, Mr Watkins.” The innkeeper looked inquiringly at her escort. “Lord Dungarran will join us until my brother arrives.”
“However, I’d like something stronger than negus, landlord. Have you a pint of good ale?”
“The best, my lord! Please to come this way.” He led them into a cheerful room, furnished with a table and cushioned settles, and warmed by a glowing fire. “You’ll be comfortable in here. We’ve sent the boy to Hammond’s to have your parcel rewrapped, Miss Perceval. He should be back in a moment.”
Hester thanked him and he disappeared. There was slight pause, then she said coolly, “Girls, I’d like to present a friend of Hugo’s. Lord Dungarran, my cousins Miss Edwina Perceval, Miss Frederica and Miss Henrietta.” The girls curtsied rather solemnly. They all regarded their cousin Hugo with some awe, and this friend of his was just as impressive. The greatcoat he had removed on coming into the inn had no fewer than five capes, and one could see now that his indoor clothing—dark blue coat, a snowy, immaculately starched cravat, light-coloured buckskins—was in the first stare of fashion. They gazed at his tall figure and handsome looks, his short black hair and lazy grey eyes, with guarded admiration. However, they relaxed when Lord Dungarran smiled and said, “I am charmed, ladies. Truly charmed. But I am consumed with curiosity, too. Tell me what is in those intriguing parcels which you are so reluctant to relinquish.”
The girls laughed and put their parcels down on one of the settles. At the same time they loosened their pelisses and took off their hoods. Hester slowly followed suit. Henrietta, the youngest and least shy, said eagerly, “Muslins and silks. For dresses. We are all to have some new evening dresses, even me. Robina is coming out in the spring.”
Dungarran looked enquiringly at Hester. “Robina is my eldest cousin,” she said colourlessly, not looking at him. “She is not with us today. My aunt is taking her to London some time in March for her début in society.” She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. Her own catastrophic début six years before had been witnessed by the gentleman standing before her. Indeed, he had been a key player and from the conscious look on his face he, too, was aware of awkwardness in the situation. Fortunately for her peace of mind the landlord reappeared with a tray laden with warm drinks and Dungarran’s ale. By the time he had removed the covers from the food laid out on the table, adjured them to enjoy it, and gone out again, Hester had recovered her composure. Dungarran cleared his throat.
“Did you say Hugo has been in Cambridge, Miss Perceval? I thought he was in Gloucestershire with the Beaufort?”
“He is. We are meeting my other brother. My younger brother, Lowell. He should be here at any moment.”
Reminded of their favourite’s imminent arrival, the girls went to look out of the window. Hester and Dungarran were left by the fire. Hester felt she must break the uncomfortable silence that followed.
“Are you staying in the district?” she asked stiffly. “Althorp, perhaps?”
“Er…no. I was at my own place in Leicestershire, but the weather hasn’t been good for hunting. I’ve decided to return to London. I’ve things to do there.”
Hester took a sip of her wine, and turned away to look at the girls. Why didn’t Lowell come? It was impossible to sustain a casual conversation with this man. Yet it would be humiliating if he was reminded of the girl she had been six years ago—scornful of small talk, determined to discuss serious matters of state and politics, inept and unskilled in the manners of society…And, for a short while, stupidly in love with him. Her cheeks grew warm with shame and resentment at the memory of their last encounter. How she had hated him after that…!
“I hope the coach is not delayed by the weather. Would you like me to make enquiries?”
Hester pulled herself together and spoke as civilly as she could. “Thank you, but we were early. It wasn’t due before the hour. But please—you mustn’t let us delay you. We are quite safe and comfortable here. The landlord is an old friend.”
“So I have observed. Very well, I shall finish my ale, and then be on my way.”
She was hard put to it to disguise her relief. Though the violent emotions of six years before had long been mastered and then forgotten, she still disliked and distrusted this man. She would be glad to see him go. Unfortunately, at that moment Henrietta scrambled from the window-seat and ran to the door, calling Lowell’s name. Hester sighed. Dungarran would now be bound to stay a short while longer.
“But I think I know your brother already, Miss Perceval,” he said when she had introduced them. He turned to Lowell. “I’ve seen you at White’s with Hugo, but we didn’t have an opportunity to speak. But tell me, are you still up at Cambridge?”
Lowell flushed with pleasure at this evidence that the great man had taken notice of him. “No, I came down some time ago,” he replied. “But I still have friends there. In fact I’ve just been arranging to share rooms with one of them when he comes to London in the spring. At the moment I’m living at Hugo’s lodgings when I’m in town.”
“Why haven’t we met more often?”
“Oh, Hugo’s mode of life is a touch above mine, Lord Dungarran. We each go our own way.”
Dungarran nodded. “All the same, we must meet again in London.”
In spite of her unease, Hester was amused at her brother’s efforts to imitate the elegance of Dungarran’s manner—Lowell was normally loudly self-confident, boisterous even. It was proof, if any were needed, of Dungarran’s status in the closed world of London society. But the next moment she was horrified to hear her brother say somewhat shyly, “Are you staying long in Northampton, sir? I am sure my family would be pleased to receive you at Abbot Quincey.”
She breathed again when she heard Dungarran expressing regret that he had to be on his way. “I merely called in at the Receiving Office here. I had some enquiries to make. Miss Perceval, it was a pleasure to meet you again. Will you be joining your cousin in London for the Season?”
This harmless question roused a storm of protest in Hester’s breast but she replied calmly. “I am not sure, but I doubt it, Lord Dungarran. There’s…there’s always so much to occupy me at Abbot Quincey.” Then, she could not help adding, “I’m sure you will be kind to Robina—she is very young.”
He gave her a sharp look then bowed, took smiling leave of the rest and left. Hester breathed a huge sigh of relief and prepared to gather her party together for the journey home.
Later, after they had deposited the three girls at the Vicarage in Abbot Quincey and were rolling up the drive to Perceval Hall, Lowell said, “He’s a great chap, Hester.”
“Please, Lowell, can we now leave the subject of Dungarran! Ever since we left Northampton the girls have talked of nothing but the polish of his address, the attraction of his looks, the elegance of his clothes, till I was sick of hearing his name. Surely there are more interesting topics of conversation?”
Lowell looked curiously at her. “Come, it wasn’t as bad as all that. I thought they talked quite as much about their shopping, and the dresses they were having made. What’s wrong, Hes?”
Hester could not reply. The unexpected encounter with Dungarran had stirred up feelings she thought she had conquered years before. Anger and humiliation were choking her, six years’ peaceful reconstruction of her pride and confidence were momentarily forgotten. Lowell waited patiently. He and Hester were very close. With just one year between them, they had always been allies, both fond of Hugo, their elder brother, but both somewhat in awe of him. It was natural enough—Hugo was five years older, a born leader, a touch autocratic, rather conscious of his position as the eldest of all the Perceval children, cousins included. When Hugo went off to London, the two younger ones had become even closer. Hester defended Lowell whenever one of his mad escapades had drawn his parents’ wrath down on his head. And when Hester had come back from London in disgrace Lowell had been her chief support.
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