A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 19

“To think, ten minutes ago you were the one telling me to be calm,” Francis said when he was back in the carriage. Lady Ridlington had been taken into the house by Mrs Goodman, and he and Josiah had both climbed back into the carriage, heading toward his and Dian’s house.

“You think I can be calm now?” Josiah asked, brandishing the parchment in his hand.

“No, not in the slightest,” Francis said, shaking his head, not feeling remotely calm himself, though he felt at least able to wear a little more of a calm façade now, for the sake of his friend. “She’ll be fine, I am sure of it,” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder, wishing he could believe his words completely.

They fell quiet as the carriage rumbled along the road, heading back toward the Marquess’ house. When they arrived in the right road, Josiah leaned forward, looking out of the window.

“Oh my god…” he muttered. The words made Francis lean forward in fear, looking out of the window too. His jaw fell slack at the sight.

The front of Josiah’s house was in carnage. The door was hanging off the hingers and where clean white marble steps leading up the porch to the front door usually were, they were marred with a chair that was upside down, and a coat stand that had been flung across them, with pelisses and jackets splayed on the floor.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt with the horses whinnying loudly in objection, though Josiah hadn’t really waited until the carriage had stopped. The door was open, and he had jumped down with Francis hot on his heels.

“Diana?” Francis heard himself scream his sister’s name in fear, not quite able to believe the sight that was before him. Beside the doorway, Josiah’s butler was sat down, with his head hanging between his knees.

“What has happened?” Josiah said, striding forward as the butler lifted his head.

“The Viscount of Ridlington,” the butler said, his voice strained. “The constables have been sent for.”

“Lift your head higher,” Francis pleaded with the butler as he reached his side. The butler did as asked, revealing a bruise growing across his forehead.

“God have mercy!” Josiah spat the words. “Did the Viscount do that?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the butler said. “I refused to let him in. I cannot apologize enough. He got past me anyway.”

“It is not your fault,” Francis said with feeling.

“Diana? Diana!” Josiah roared her name and ran up the steps toward his front door, jumping over the fallen chair and coat stand. Francis followed, chucking the chair out of the way as they ran into the house.

His blood turned cold as he looked around, seeing the interior had been ransacked. There was not a table still in place, nor a painting that was straight on the wall. Francis peered into the sitting room beside him, seeing chairs overturned and even Diana’s harp tipped over in anger.

“Diana?” Josiah shouted again, running between the rooms downstairs.

“Josiah?” she answered at last, appearing at the top of the stairs. Francis was first one to reach the staircase, bounding up the steps toward her.

“Diana, are you all right?” Francis asked as quickly as he could, reaching out and taking one of her arms as he checked her all over.

“I am fine,” she said hurriedly, though there were tears in her eyes. “He did not hurt me.”

Josiah reached them and headed straight for Diana, taking her out of Francis’ grasp. He embraced his wife, holding her tightly to him. Diana buried her head in her husband’s chest, his embrace allowing those tears to fall. Francis ached to watch his sister’s pain.

The Viscount of Ridlington had caused this.

“What happened, Diana?” Josiah said, as he kissed her forehead, urging her to look up at him through her tears.

“The V-Viscount. He arrived here this morning, seconds after you left,” she said, her words stammering through her tears.

“He must have been watching the house, waiting for you to leave,” Francis said, walking in a small circle as he bunched his hands against his temple, thinking hard. He now understood what had happened that morning. After the Viscount had ransacked Diana’s house, he had gone to Mr Preston’s office. Francis didn’t doubt he’d been just as violent there.

“He knocked out our poor butler,” Diana said, “stepped over him to get into the house. The footmen tried to restrain him, but it did little use.” Francis winced, remembering the footmen all too well, they were boys really, still lads with not much muscle on them. They wouldn’t have been able to stand a chance. “He found me with the harp, demanding to know where Lady Ridlington was. When I said I didn’t know, he…” she broke off as she gasped with her tears.

Josiah embraced her again, holding her tight and kissing her. The sight of the comfort made Francis turn away and rest his arms on the banister above the stairs, leaning over it. More than once had he considered taking Lady Ridlington in his arms in such a way that very morning, but he was not permitted to.

“He pushed over the harp, and then he began to destroy the place. He chased me through the house, saying he would ruin everything if I did not tell him where she was,” Diana said, her voice still stammered with tears. Josiah and Francis glanced at once another, the fear evident in that one look. “I didn’t tell him.”

“What made him leave?” Josiah asked.

“Our gardener,” she said softly, revealing a small smile. “He is such a big man; I do not think even the Viscount was willing to take him on. The footmen fetched him, and he threw the Viscount away from me, demanding he leave. The Viscount ran away with his tail between his legs then.”

“Good,” Francis found himself saying, but it was not enough. The Viscount would have to pay for what he had done now, not only to Lady Ridlington, but to his sister too.

I cannot let this carry on.

“That blunderbuss,” Josiah said, followed by a string of other curses.

“Josiah!” Diana admonished him.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, his eyes wide. “This has to stop. Now.”

“Agreed,” Francis said, standing up off the banister. “We tell the constables what happened. Have him charged for this.”

“They will still not arrest him, not if he says he had reason to suspect Lady Ridlington was here,” Josiah said, not releasing Diana.

“I know, but we make the case anyway,” Francis said, looking around the house. That day could have gone much worse. The Viscount could have taken his anger out on Diana rather than her house. It had been a close call indeed. “You two should come away from the house. Move in with me for now.”

“What?” Diana asked, looking up.

“It is not safe here,” Francis said, gesturing to the mess in the house. “There is nothing to stop the Viscount watching this house and forcing his way in again.”

“Agreed,” Josiah said. “It is not safe.”

“Come to mine. Stay there for a few days.”

“Are you certain?” Josiah asked.

“I have never been more certain,” Francis said with feeling. “Pack your things. We’ll leave for mine as soon as possible.”

* * *

Francis helped Diana into the carriage, seeing that she had stopped crying, even though the tears still lingered in her eyes. She paused for a second, holding onto his hand tighter and staring at him.

“It is my fault, isn’t it?” she asked in a whisper.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m the one who goaded him before,” she said, “when he last came.”

“This is not your fault, Diana,” Francis said with feeling. “The only person we can blame for this is Lord Ridlington. In you go. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” He urged her into the carriage before stepping back and looking up and down the road.

Nearby, Josiah was overseeing the footman fasten their bags to the carriage, whilst the butler watched on, cradling the bruise on his face.

“You need a physician,” Josiah said softly to the butler and patted him on the shoulder. “Go to one. Take as much time off as you need.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” the butler said, though he did not look comforted. “Maybe I will attend some boxing lessons as well. I never want to feel that helpless again when a man goes after the Marchioness.”

“You are a good man,” Josiah said, clapping him another time before he walked forward, toward Francis. “I never want to live a day as dark as this again,” he said, so only Francis could hear him.

“Agreed,” he said with a nod, as he turned his gaze to looking up and down the road.

“Is something wrong?” Josiah asked, following his gaze.

“I am not sure,” Francis said, continuing with his watch. “I thought I saw someone watching us at the end of the road.”

“They could have just been curious because of all this mess. Nosey neighbors certainly are a thing round here,” Josiah said tiredly, shaking his head.

“Maybe,” Francis said, chewing his lip, but he wasn’t convinced. “Let’s get into the carriage. Quick.”

They both clambered in and soon the carriage was heading off, but it wasn’t long before Francis couldn’t bear to watch his sister in Josiah’s arms across the carriage on the other side. Diana was resting her head on her husband’s shoulder with Josiah’s arm around her, holding tightly to him. The intimacy, the trust there, it was all something Francis had felt recently, but he was not permitted to indulge in such public displays.

He turned his gaze out of the window, desperate to find something else to look at, when he realized that there was a carriage behind them on the road. It was at some distance away from them, perhaps just heading in a similar direction, yet remembering that feeling of being watched at Josiah’s house, Francis watched the carriage all the more.

When the road bent road, it afforded him a better view of the carriage following, until he realized that it was gaining ground.

“Stop!” Francis called and clattered on the roof. The carriage came to a rather clumsy halt in the middle of the road.

“What is it?” Josiah called after Francis, but he didn’t answer. He flung open the door and jumped down, moving toward the back of the carriage to look behind them. Other riders in the road rode around the carriage, moving on. Even passersby walking along the paths stopped and looked at him, wondering what he was doing. He had his focus on the carriage that had been following them.

He did not miss the way the driver looked up, his eyes finding Francis’. The driver seemed to stiffen before pulling on the horses’ reigns and urging the carriage to make a turn off the road, onto a new lane. Francis followed them with his gaze for a minute.

“What is wrong?” Josiah’s voice made Francis turn away, seeing his brother-in-law had jumped down from the carriage.

“We were being followed,” Francis said.

“You are sure?” Josiah asked, stepping away.

“No, not certain,” Francis said, shaking his head, “but I do not want to take chances.”

He urged Josiah back into the carriage with a wave of his hand and closed the door behind him, before moving up to the front of the carriage, climbing up onto the footboard and taking the seat beside the coach driver.

“Your Grace!” the driver said, turning to look at him in surprise.

“Apologies,” Francis said, “I wish to keep a better eye on the road, so I will join you up here. Also, we are going to take a different route home.”

“As you like, Your Grace. Which way would you like to go?”

“The most complicated and ridiculous way you can think of.” He could see the driver’s eyebrows lift in surprise. He wasn’t going to give the chance for anyone to follow them, just in case he had been right.

* * *

“Oh, I wish you had told me the truth sooner, my Lady,” Mrs Goodman said as she bustled around Phoebe yet another time. “How about another cup of tea? Or another slice of cake?”

“Thank you, Mrs Goodman, you are very kind,” she smiled at the sweet-tempered housekeeper, seeing the way that Louisa was sitting nearby laughing under her breath.

As soon as Mrs Goodman had helped Phoebe sneak back into the house, Phoebe felt compelled to reveal the truth to the housekeeper. It seemed to be the elder lady’s prerogative to now fix any hurt Phoebe had with as much tea and cake as possible.

“What about lemon and poppy seed cake?” Mrs Goodman said as she poured her another cup of tea. “I think there is some in the kitchen.”

“My Lady will be gaining weight if we keep feeding her up like this,” Louisa said with a laugh.

“You have already filled me up with all this honey cake,” Phoebe said, gesturing down to the tray. “You have been very kind, Mrs Goodman, truly I do not need anymore.”

“Well, you give me a shout if you need anything else,” she said with a kind smile. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll check what cook is making for dinner. Do you have a favorite dish, my Lady?”

Phoebe had to hold in a laugh as the housekeeper hovered in the doorway, looking hopefully toward her.

“Erm…roast chicken?” she said.

“Perfect, I’ll see to it.” The door was closed as the housekeeper hurried off, leaving Phoebe to look at Louisa with a smile.

“I think lovely Mrs Goodman thinks all ails can be healed with food,” Louisa said laughing, rearranging the teacups on the tray to help tidy up.

“If only it were true,” Phoebe said, pushing away the plate on which her cake had been before turning her eyes back to the window.

“You have heard the phrase a watched pot never boils, my Lady, have you not?” Louisa’s words pulled Phoebe’s focus away from the driveway. “You can keep looking longingly out of the window, but Hayward will not return any quicker.”

“I know,” Phoebe said, standing up from her chair and moving around the room. Now she was back in one of her usual gowns, she was feeling a little more constricted. There had been a freedom to wearing the man’s clothes, giving her the ability to hide in plain sight, away from Graham’s eyes. She oddly did not feel so safe back wearing a dress.

Despite Louisa’s words, Phoebe’s feet took her toward the window, looking out in expectation of seeing the carriage return.

“I wonder what has happened,” she said quietly, remembering seeing Graham that morning. She frowned as she thought of the moment Graham had spoken to the thief. Perhaps the thief had simply been begging for money? Yet she knew Graham well enough to know he would have brushed the thief instantly off. Whatever their conversation had been, it had not been short.

“Well, your look of longing appears to have worked after all,” Louisa said from across the room.

“What?” Phoebe asked, before focusing on the driveway ahead again. The carriage was returning, only it was clear even from this distance that Hayward was not coming back alone, for there were bags and trunks fastened to the rear of the carriage.

Phoebe pushed away from the window and hurried across the room, heading out of the door and into the entrance hall. The front door was locked tightly in place, but she turned them in a harried manner before flinging the door open and stumbling outside, her feet scattering stones as she waited for the carriage to come to a stop.

The door of the carriage was flung open, revealing as Phoebe had suspected that Hayward was not alone. Lady Dodge was there, along with the Marquess who descended first and then offered a hand to his wife to help her down.

“What has happened?” Phoebe asked with panic, stepping forward the moment she could see her friend had been crying. Lady Dodge’s eyes were red, and the handkerchief clutched in her hands told all.

“Thank goodness you are all right,” Lady Dodge said, walking toward her.

“Me? I am fine. What has happened to you?” Phoebe cried as she reached out to take her friend’s hands. It was quickly changed into an embrace by Lady Dodge who held her tightly to her.

“It was worth it,” she said softly. “Just to make sure he never can find you.”

“Goodness, please, tell me what happened,” Phoebe said, still clutching to Lady Dodge as she peered over her friend’s shoulder, looking toward Hayward as he climbed down from the carriage. Surprisingly, he had been up at the footboard beside the driver.

“Before going to see Mr Preston, your husband paid a visit to Diana,” Francis explained with an angry countenance. “He must have been watching the house, waiting for Josiah to go, before he ransacked the place. Threatening to tear it apart until Diana told him where you were.”

“No…” Phoebe said, feeling breathless as she pulled back from Lady Dodge’s embrace to look her in the eye. “Did he hurt you?” she asked, her voice so quiet that she herself struggled to hear it.

“No,” Lady Dodge said, shaking her head. “I…” she paused, swallowing. “I think he was tempted to, but he held himself back. He wouldn’t hurt someone else’s wife.”

But he came close.

The thought burned Phoebe as though her skin were on fire with the guilt.

“I cannot risk you anymore,” Phoebe said implacably.

“No, do not say it –”

“I have to go back.”