The Louise Allen Collection. Louise Allen
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pistols in the curricle.’
‘You intend to come with us, then?’
Henry smiled wryly. ‘I do not believe there is any danger, but I could not let either you or Olivia go without my escort. Irrational, is it not?’
The morning of the expedition dawned fair with a clear sky and the promise of sunshine. Decima resisted, with a pang, Pru’s efforts to persuade her to wear her newest, and very dashing, walking dress, and settled instead for a more modest outfit in moss green with a braided hem and a darker green pelisse and veiled bonnet. She was not going to try and compete with Olivia, as if that were possible. Today she was an onlooker, there to give Olivia feminine company—and to bid farewell to her heart.
Henry seemed in much the same, subdued mood. As Dalrymple showed them into the salon where Olivia and Adam were waiting, Decima saw how his eyes locked with Olivia’s and held for a few betraying moments. Then Olivia was her usual sweet, shy self, eyes downcast except for rapid, flickering glances at Adam.
Had he noticed anything? He was discussing the route with Henry perfectly amicably. Decima puzzled how, when he seemed so observant over everything else, he seemed unconscious of the attraction between his fiancée and Henry. Perhaps it was simply that because his affections were not deeply engaged it made him less sensitive to her. Poor Olivia. For perhaps the first time in her life Decima wondered if remaining single was not an enviable thing.
‘Daydreaming, Miss Ross?’ Adam enquired. Decima realised the others were all on their feet and making ready to go. She forced a smile and shook her head, ‘No, just thinking about tomorrow.’ And all the days after that. ‘Do you think this fine weather will last?’
Bates and another groom were holding the heads of the horses at the front door. He exchanged nods with Adam, then, when he saw she was looking at him, he knuckled his forehead. ‘Morning, Miss Ross, ma’am.’
‘Good morning, Bates.’ She wondered whether she should show her disapproval for the scheming he and Pru had been up to, then smiled. ‘Are you coming with us?’
‘No, ma’am. My leg’s still playing up too much for a long ride.’
They set off, Adam’s carriage in the lead. Both men had chosen to bring ordinary curricles and Decima could only be grateful. Being tooled around Hyde Park by Henry in his high-perch version was all very well on well-rolled tan surfaces and for short distances, but she did not relish the thought of it swaying over country roads, with the passengers sitting several feet off the ground.
She found she was watching Adam’s back as he negotiated the traffic, handling the team lightly through the confusion of carriages and carts. But even he seemed taken by surprise as a rapidly moving shape slid soundlessly out of Upper Brook Street. His team sidled and shied, then he had them under control again and the strange vehicle had passed.
‘What on earth was that?’ Decima craned to see it, but it had vanished.
‘A pedestrian hobbyhorse, I believe.’ Henry settled his own horses as they took exception to a coal heaver’s cart. ‘They’re supposed to be the next big thing—I think they should be banned. It’ll be steam engines on the roads next, frightening the horses.’
‘It looked fun,’ Decima said wistfully. ‘Not as good as a horse, naturally, but think how convenient for town use—no waiting for it to be saddled up and fetched from the mews.’
‘They do say there is a ladies’ version with three wheels.’ Henry checked his team, then followed Adam’s lead into Edgware Road. ‘But how one could ride one of those things side saddle and still propel it defeats me.’
They bickered amicably over the merits of new inventions, Decima teased Henry about investing in steam engines and then condemning them if they might inconvenience him, and they looked with interest at the route of the new Regent’s Canal as they crossed it just before Maida Vale.
Henry gave his team their head as they came to Shoot Up Hill and drew alongside the other curricle as the hamlet of Crickle-wood hove into view. Adam looked over and grinned. ‘Do you want to race? First past the Dog and Duck in the High Street?’
Decima’s eyes sparkled and she took a firm grip on the side rails, but a squeak of alarm from Olivia was greeted by a firm refusal by Henry. ‘I think not, Weston—it would alarm the ladies.’
‘No, it would not,’ Decima said crossly as they dropped back to follow once more. ‘Not that you would win, Henry,’ she added to take her revenge. ‘That is a particularly fine team Adam’s driving.’
‘Not bad,’ Henry admitted grudgingly. ‘But mine has the better bone.’
That minor squabble lasted all the way until they crossed the River Brent, by which time Henry was maintaining that he was blowed if he was going to advise Decima on the purchase of horses in the future if she had so little faith in his judgement.
Decima finally gave in with a laugh. ‘Henry, we sound like brother and sister, arguing like this! I yield absolutely—Adam’s team will break down with splints and spavins at any moment and I bow unreservedly to you in the selection of a pair for my phaeton.’
‘What phaeton?’ he enquired suspiciously.
‘The one you are going to assist me in purchasing next week,’ she responded. ‘I intend to cut a dash in the parks.’
‘Your brother will have kittens,’ Henry observed. ‘And I will figure large in his conversation as the man who led you astray. Not a high-perch, I devoutly hope?’
‘Not until I have mastered the ordinary type,’ Decima promised. ‘Then I will take Charlton for a drive. Now what?’ Adam had come to a halt and she could not help noticing Henry feeling under his seat as he reined in, as though to reassure himself something was there. His pistols, no doubt.
But it was only a large wain being backed across the road by two heavy horses with an alert-looking lad at their heads. Adam drew abreast as the heavy wagon straightened up and Decima saw the lad pointing up ahead, then tugging his lank forelock as Adam sent a coin spinning in his direction. He caught it neatly and grinned as the two carriages bowled past.
‘Where are we?’ Decima queried, looking round at the gently rolling countryside. ‘I do not think I have ever been so far north on this road.’
‘Hendon’s over there…’ Henry gestured with his whip to their right ‘…but I don’t know what this hamlet is. Looks as though Weston’s found us an inn, though.’
Decima, who had been beginning to think that she had drunk too many cups of tea at breakfast for comfort on a long drive, greeted that news with some enthusiasm. It proved to be a substantial, ancient place, rambling with lean-to extensions under a thatched roof.
Decima’s discreet questioning of the landlady produced directions to an airy privy at the bottom of the garden, neatly placed between the chicken run and the woodpile. Olivia came with her, blushing frantically at the thought that anyone might guess where they were going.
‘Thank you for asking,’ she whispered. ‘I would never have liked to do so. I feel so conspicuous. Mama says a lady should simply not drink before setting out, but I became so thirsty.’
Decima chuckled. ‘It is why so many privies are next to the woodpile. Then the maids can pretend that is all they’ve come out for and it means they always come back in with an armful of wood. That or they feed the chickens.’
Olivia smiled. ‘What a good idea! I do wish I was as brave and as practical as you are, Decima. I know I must disappoint Lord Weston—he admires your spirit so much.’
‘He does?’ But Olivia had slipped into the privy, pulling the wooden door with its cut-out half-moons shut behind her, and Decima was left addressing a small flock of brown bantams who eyed her hopefully for kitchen scraps.