Page 57 of Not Quite a Lady
The doctor looked startled. ‘At five, Miss France. But why do you ask?’
‘Because I would like him to collect me on his way, if you please.’
‘Certainly not! Miss France, you may not fully comprehend the nature of this business–’
‘I most certainly do. A duel is to take place in defence of my honour and I intend to be there. If you do not arrange to have me taken I will go alone. I have no intention of intervening, or being seen. I just wish to be there and to find out what happens.’
‘Miss France.’ He got to his feet and took an agitated stride across the room. ‘If you insist, I will tell you after the event. I will call upon you as soon as I know.’
‘No, that is not good enough.’ If she was to find herself responsible for a household of women whose son and brother had been killed on her account, she wanted to know at once. Thinking in such brutally practical terms was the only way she could get by until this was all over.
‘It is most improper. You should not be driving alone in a carriage with a man, and I doubt very much that your chaperone will be with you.’
‘If I can be alone in my bedchamber in a state of undress with you, Doctor, I think I can cope with the company of a surgeon of your recommendation in a carriage,’ Lily retorted. ‘I mean this: if he does not take me I will go by myself.’
‘Very well. You leave me no choice. The carriage will be at your door at five.’
Chapter Fourteen
It was a chilly, slightly misty morning. Lily huddled her black cloak around herself and sat back in the corner of the carriage.
The surgeon was obviously grievously put out by her having to taking her up and he regarded her with unveiled disapproval. ‘I hardly dare to ask how you left this morning without raising questions amongst your household, Miss France.’
‘I simply told the footman I was going out, Mr Welch.’ She shrugged, ‘It is not his place to question me.’
‘At this time in the morning? He will not think fit to mention the matter to your companion?’
‘Not if he values his position,’ Lily said grimly.
The surgeon lapsed into frowning silence and stared out of the window.
Lily let her eyes flicker over the sinister black case by his side and hastily looked out of the other side.
The traffic out of London was light at that time in the morning and their progress was steady, despite the steep climb up Haverstock Hill.
Lily’s mouth was uncomfortably dry and she wished she had thought to bring something to drink. What was Jack thinking? Had he been in this position before, or was this new?
How could men do it – go out to kill or be killed in cold blood? She shuddered as the carriage lurched off the road onto a track. They must have reached the Heath.
The surgeon leaned across and pulled down the blinds. ‘You will please stay here with the blinds shut, Miss France.’
She nodded, telling herself she was acknowledging his comment, not agreeing to it. The carriage stopped and she pulled up her hood, curling herself back into her corner as the groom opened the door for Mr Welch and lifted down the blackinstrument case.
Silence, then the sound of voices at a distance. Lily eased back the corner of the blind and saw two carriages some way off, standing apart from each other. Jack was by one, looking out over the view towards London. He seemed relaxed, yet watchful. Adrian was by the other, staring at the huddle of men – presumably the seconds – half-way between the two vehicles.
The coachman had stopped the surgeon’s carriage by a small stand of trees. Lily looked out of the opposite door and saw that under their cover she could circle around and get much closer, especially as the whole group were now making their way down into some sort of depression in the ground below the copse.
Lily slipped out of the door and into the trees.
Jack stood patiently, watching two of the seconds examining the box of duelling pistols that Lord Gledhill had produced.
There seemed to be a cold lump where his stomach should be, and his heartbeat was unusually rapid, but he felt he could sustain the appearance of calm. Anything, rather than betray himself as Randall was doing, with his white face and constant fidgeting.
‘They appear perfectly satisfactory,’ said Randall’s second. What was his name? Dunsford? ‘No rifling, both well balanced, no difference in the triggers that I can find. I am happy to accept these on behalf of my principal. Shall we load, Webster? It does not look as though either party is offering or accepting an apology.’
Jack’s man nodded, with a glance towards Lord Gledhill and Fellthorpe, his opposite number. Both were shaking their heads, their faces grave, while the surgeon stood discreetly to one side.
Jack bowed slightly and received a frosty bow in return. The medic did not approve of such affairs, it seemed. Difficult to blame him: if anyone was killed he would have to convince a juryhe had not connived in the duel from the start.
