Miss Dane and the Duke

‘Jem… Your Grace.’ Still he would not look up.

‘Jem, ah, yes. You work for Miss Dane, do you not?’

'’Yessir.’

‘And have you been driving Miss Dane this morning?’

‘Couldn’t say, sir. Your Grace.’ Jem’s face was almost crimson.

‘That is all right, Jem, you do not have to tell us anything you do not wish to. What a pity Miss Dane forgot her hat box,’ Marcus said sympathetically.

‘No, she didn’t forget it, she said there weren’t no room in the ch – ‘ He broke off, one hand clapping itself to his mouth.

‘No room in the chaise?’ Marcus finished gently. ‘So your mistress has hired a chaise, has she? And where is she bound?’

Saye advanced to the side of the gig. ‘You speak up when His Grace asks you a question, boy, or I’ll have your ears off.’

‘You can boil me in oil and I won’t tell you nuffin about Miss Dane,’ Jem stammered.

‘Stop bullying the lad. He is only being loyal to his mistress and no doubt following her instructions. Here, lad.’ Marcus fished in his waistcoat pocket and sent a half sovereign spinning through the air to the startled boy. ‘Do not worry, Jem, you have kept your silence well, now be off back to the Dower House.’

The lad needed no urging and was off down the road as fast as the elderly horse could go.

Marcus used his spurs and sent his mount cantering off towards Berkhamsted.

The King’s Arms was the only hostelry in the town that hired out carriages, but enquiries there were met with little information. Yes, Miss Dane had hired a chaise and four with two postilions, but no, neither the landlord nor the ostlers could say which direction she had taken.

‘We’ve been very busy, Your Grace,’ the landlord explained apologetically, wiping his hands on his apron. ‘Market day, you see.’

Marcus was standing in the inn yard, fists on hips, sizing up the possibilities: east for London or west for Aylesbury, when Mr Todd the curate walked through the arch. ‘Oh, good morning, Your Grace. Why, all local Society seems to be abroad in Berkhamsted today. I was gratified to see Miss Dane earlier. Such a charming young lady, such an ornament to our little town.’

‘Mr Todd, good morning to you, I trust I find you well.’ Marcus regarded his curate with a speculative eye. ‘Splendid sermon last Sunday, I hope you intend to stimulate us again this week.’ Marcus had, in fact, dozed through most of Mr Todd’s interminable prosing on the subject of the Ephesians, but he did not want to cause gossip by pouncing too readily on the subject of Miss Dane.

‘Thank you, Your Grace, you are too kind. I was, in fact, intending to enlarge upon the theme of the dangers of heathen imagery...’

Marcus allowed him to prate on until he drew breath at last. ‘I am glad to hear Miss Dane succeeded in finding a suitable chaise. Now, where was it she was going? London, I think?’

‘Oh no,’ Mr Todd corrected him. ‘She took the Chesham road.’

Chesham, Marcus ruminated. Why would she go south to Chesham? Unless she had some intention of disguising her destination. Once along that road she could turn off for either London or Aylesbury. Mr Todd was prattling again, but he excused himself brusquely and strode back to his horse.

‘Saye, you and Welling take the Chesham road until you find which way Miss Dane’s chaise has gone. When you are sure, send Welling back to me and you follow until Miss Dane reaches her destination, then send me word. Here,’ he tossed a leather purse to the head groom. ‘This should cover your expenses.’

Not waiting to see the two men follow his instructions, Marcus turned back towards Brightshill, thinking hard. He had come to expect spirited behaviour from Antonia, but even by her standards, setting off alone in a hired chaise was extraordinarily daring. When he discovered where she had gone – and London or Bath seemed the most obvious destinations – he would follow. It was chastening for once in his life to discover that events were not following his desires.

This impression was reinforced when, no sooner had he set foot over his own threshold, his sister pounced on him and marched him with scant ceremony into his study.

‘Well?’ Anne demanded. ‘Have you been over to speak to Miss Dane?’

Marcus sank into a deep chair and crossed his booted legs negligently. ‘Yes.’

‘And? What did she say? Marcus, I do wish you would not sprawl like that.’

‘She said nothing.’ Marcus continued to sprawl.

‘Nothing? What can you mean? Marcus, you are going about this very badly. Did she refuse to speak to you? Although it is not to be wondered at, with that minx Claudia Reed all over you at table last night.’

‘Antonia has gone,’ Marcus stated baldly, cutting his sister off in mid flow.