Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
One week, six days, and one dawn flight until the wedding
A veil of darkness shrouded Bath’s pretty skyline as Phoebe rose and gazed from her bedchamber window. Reluctantly, she turned to eye her small trousseau of essentials, unable to help comparing it to the portmanteau she’d packed when heading to London nearly three months before. A rueful smile passed across her lips as she conjured Effie’s and Flora’s faces. What would they say if they could see their poor gentl’man now? Preparing for a dawn phaeton race, and scandalous elopement, no more than three hours after a betrothal announcement by King George himself? It was a lot even by her standards, yet by the time the viscount’s phaeton appeared at the top of the hill, like a ghostly apparition, she was ready.
Silently, she crept through the still house, brushing each of her sisters’ bedchamber doors with her fingertips as she passed. There was a muffled cough when she reached Josephine’s door and, momentarily, she hesitated. Her quietest sister had looked so pale when she took the letters yet there was no more time, someone would hear if Josephine worsened – they had to.
She forced herself on before she could change her mind, down the modest stairwell and along her aunt’s quiet mahogany hall, pausing only to gaze at a miniature portrait of her youthful mama and papa. They were picnicking amid a carpet of bluebells in Knightswood’s grounds, and briefly she stared, wondering if they’d ever discussed Papa’s debt.
Would they understand her course now? Or think her foolish for embarking on the most foolhardy escapade of her life?
‘A young lady needs a certain air of fragility about her person – not ruddy cheeks and splinters.’
Didn’t they know looks could be deceiving?
She dragged her gaze from theirs, before picking up a cherry-velvet ribbon on the hall table. It was one of Matilda’s favourites and somehow, the stretch of soft material gave her a surge of strength. Of all her sisters, Matilda would understand best.
‘Captain, please shoot the earl, then we can all move in permanently!’
She tucked it inside her riding habit as she made her way to the door.
‘We can all be heroic in big and small ways, loud and quiet, if we so wish , ’ Josephine echoed.
‘Lord, Phoebs, I agree we deserve to have as many adventures as our brothers , ’ Sophie added.
‘Perhaps one day, you won’t all think me the very poorest heroine of them all,’ Phoebe whispered, blinking fiercely.
Then she turned the key and slipped out into the waiting dawn.
Captain Elliot Damerel was as good as his word, and if the sight of the viscount’s high-perch phaeton and noble greys forced her stomach into her boots, the presence of the captain provided a balance of relief.
‘I was worried you might change your mind,’ he murmured, striding forward to take her trousseau.
She gazed up into his anxious chestnut eyes, and wondered again at the twist of fate that had brought their lives to this dawn crossroads, at the top of a quiet hill, in Bath.
‘A Fairfax never changes her mind!’ she rallied, with effort.
He nodded, and for the first time she realised it was already far worse for him.
He was in love with someone he could never have.
‘I will expect nothing from you,’ she reassured, feeling a rise of heat across her face. ‘Your life can continue as it always has – I will consider myself a … companion only.’
His relief was palpable as he caught her hand and raised it to his lips.
‘As I will make no demands of you,’ he promised, reading her mind. ‘Though I cannot offer my whole heart, I do care for you, Phoebe, and I will do everything in my power to make your life as comfortable as possible.’
Phoebe exhaled, both relieved and oddly hollowed by his words.
‘There are so many things I would like to tell you … to show you.’
She closed her eyes as the viscount’s face swam before her eyes and she knew now she was destined never to know to what he had been referring.
‘Dr Kapoor?’ she enquired.
‘Will remain here until he is recalled to the regiment,’ the captain returned, a shadow darkening his face. ‘His continued presence will assist in quelling the rumours.’
Phoebe nodded.
‘I think, once we send news of our wedding, we would also do well to rejoin the regiment. My commanding officer is a generous sort of fellow, and will likely overlook the scandal if I accept a tour abroad. You will be quite safe with me, Phoebe. And, once things have died down here, we will return and live quietly. I’m sure my brother will assist us as much as he can.’
She forced a smile as he handed her into the high-perch phaeton, and rounded the equipage to climb up. To his credit, he sounded almost confident, yet as he encouraged the spirited horses forward, Phoebe was far less certain. Despite the captain’s optimism, they both knew there was a strong chance the king would declare them exiles, and then anyone with any care for their own social standing would give them as wide a berth as possible.
‘I won’t pry into the nature of your engagement this morning,’ he murmured, as the greys made light work of Bath’s quiet roads. ‘Only bid you to take care. I’ll be at the corner of Pulteney Street in an hour’s time. From there we can drive straight to the Great North Road, and change horses at the first coaching inn. I’ll send word to Alexander then, too. Unless … you’re tempted to leave now?’ he finished, on a wistful note.
‘I am,’ Phoebe conceded, sensing how much he needed to be away. ‘But Aurelia’s challenge is a matter of honour, and I can’t leave town without meeting her.’
‘That, I understand.’ He nodded.
Phoebe exhaled, there was only so much dishonour one family name could take.
Silently, she ran through the race route: Pulteney Bridge, Great Pulteney Street and around Sydney Gardens. Finish at the Sydney Hotel. The viscount’s phaeton and greys, racing against the viscount’s betrothed. How the haute ton would enjoy the scandal if they knew.
‘I’ll meet you on the bridge in one hour,’ she promised. ‘They seem fresh,’ she added, as the viscount’s horses strained against the captain’s careful rein.
‘They’re high spirited, and need only the lightest touch,’ he said. ‘I won’t insult you by asking if you can handle them,’ he added, with a rueful smile.
‘It’s the sort of question that got me into this situation in the first place!’ she retorted, before they both started to laugh, and by the time the Gothic facade of Bath Abbey rose up before them, Phoebe was feeling much more herself.
‘Pulteney Bridge in one hour,’ the captain repeated, as he handed over the reins and climbed down.
‘What will you do?’ she asked, sensing the greys’ eagerness to be off.
‘What does anyone do, in a beautiful city, at four-thirty in the morning?’ he returned with a brief return of his dancing eyes.
‘Oh!’ Phoebe breathed. ‘Then please, pass on my best regards and bid him … take care of my sisters.’
‘You can depend on it.’ The captain bowed.
Then she lowered the reins, and let the greys spring forward.
The drive to Pulteney Bridge was shorter than Phoebe anticipated, and surprisingly pleasant, too. There was something calming about having the streets of Bath to herself at this hour, and the viscount’s horses seemed to share her brief sense of escape; tossing back their manes, picking up their hooves, and pulling her effortlessly towards the bridge, while echoes of her argument with Aurelia reached out of every house she passed.
Phoebe scowled. She hadn’t exactly spared her words, but then Aurelia had been determined to ruin her from the moment they met. Briefly, she racked her brain, thinking over every meeting and conversation from the Assembly Room, to the picnic, to the theatre, to Aurelia’s frequent interruptions whenever she happened to be conversing with the viscount…
She caught her breath, the Bath-stone buildings suddenly merging.
‘I have never betrayed your confidence except in frank admiration of a young woman who appeared unafraid of anything. If I spoke too freely, it’s because I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’
They were the viscount’s words, spoken beneath the magnolia tree, the night of the masked ball. She hadn’t made much of them then, but could he have somehow given Aurelia a different impression?
Her chest thumped as the start of the bridge rose into view, revealing a pretty white phaeton and pair of chestnuts, tossing their heads impatiently. Their driver glanced back, a dark scowl twisting her china-doll face and Phoebe’s suspicions doubled.
‘ Oh, how droll you are… I can almost see why the viscount finds you so entertaining!’
Phoebe inhaled raggedly. Surely she was just the hare-brained simpleton he found fighting a highwayman on a country road, nothing more ?
And yet, what did any of it matter now, anyway?
The race was on.