An Innocent Deceit

Chapter Three

At precisely fifteen minutes before the hour of two o’clock on Monday afternoon, suitably attired in her most formal habit of dark blue Georgian cloth—and with her stomach tied up in knots—Antonia waited for the stable boy to saddle her dapple grey mare in preparation for the ride over to Ashdean. She had been in a positive fidget all morning. Ever since meeting the Earl of Carlyle in town, Antonia had suffered agonies of uncertainty, wondering what she should do if the Earl chanced to be present for the upcoming interview.

She had toyed with the idea of saying that a friend had written the letter in jest, and that upon discovering the ruse she had felt honour bound to make her presence known to Mr Bingham, and to explain the situation as best she could. Alternately, she had thought to say that she had written the letter on a dare, never for one moment expecting that she would receive a reply, and that she had come to apologise for her imprudent behaviour.

Finally, Antonia decided that the best approach was simply to wait and to see what happened. After all, what was the point in fretting? If the Earl did not appear, then all of her worrying would have been for nought. And if he did…?

Well, as Catherine had said, she would just have to take her chances when the time came. And so, gathering her skirts in one hand, and her whip in the other, Antonia prepared to mount—and to boldly meet whatever Fate held in store for her.

The stables at Ashdean were located well behind the main body of the house. They were accessible only by the road which ran alongside it, or by a path which meandered through the heavily wooded area to the south of it. It was a path which had been cut there years ago, no doubt by neighbouring children who had travelled back and forth between the houses in an effort not to be seen by their elders.

It was this very path which Antonia chose that day, preferring to avoid the main part of the house altogether. She had travelled it many times, and had often found solace in the lush greenery, and its abundance of wild flowers and rich, verdant grass.

Coming to the end of the path, Antonia broke cover about a hundred and fifty feet behind the paddock area, and then quickly headed her mare in the direction of a large clump of trees about forty feet to the left of it. There, her presence concealed by the overhanging branches, Antonia turned her attention to the grassy paddock where Lady Clara was already seated atop her sturdy little Welsh Pony, Teddy, and walking him around the ring. A man was standing in the centre of the paddock. Mr Bingham, Lord Carlyle’s steward, leaned against the fence, quietly watching the performance.

The Earl of Carlyle, Antonia noticed with relief, was nowhere in sight.

The man in the centre of the ring was tall and thin, and reasonably well dressed, Antonia noted. He called out a series of instructions to the little girl as she circled, and for the most part, seemed quite competent in the way he conducted himself. But there was something in the tone of his voice that Antonia could not bring herself to like—a feeling evidently shared by Lady Clara. Even at this distance, Antonia could sense the tension in the little girl’s body. Her arms and legs were as stiff as pokers. So much so that, if she were to tumble from the pony’s back now, Antonia knew that she would hurt herself.

The gentleman also seemed to be having trouble getting Clara to do what he wanted. Antonia was not able to hear exactly what he was saying, but it was clear from the inflection in his voice that he was not pleased. And when he suddenly raised his voice and shouted at her, Clara screwed up her face and burst into tears.

‘Right, thank you, Mr Huddlesworth, that will be all,’ Mr Bingham said abruptly. His mouth was tight as he vaulted over the low fence and made his way to the little girl’s side. ‘There, there, Lady Clara, there’s no need to cry.’ He pulled a large white handkerchief from his pocket and gently dried the child’s tears. ‘You don’t have to ride any more.’ Stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket, he gently lifted Clara out of the saddle. ‘Why don’t you go and play with Bartholomew while I have a word with Mr Huddlesworth?’

In spite of the tears rolling down her cheeks, the child’s huge blue eyes suddenly brightened, and without a word, she ran off to find her puppy, obviously content to leave the irascible pony where he was.

Antonia did not need to hear what the steward was saying to know that he was not pleased with the gentleman’s performance. It was apparent from Mr Huddlesworth’s posture that he was not being complimented. Nor should he have been, Antonia reflected dimly. The man obviously knew nothing about the instruction of young children. His methods might have worked on older girls, or on boys who were easier to bully, but it certainly wasn’t the technique to use on a six-year-old girl who was just getting started.

Fortunately, it seemed that the steward was of the same opinion. After a few minutes more, Mr Huddlesworth turned and left the paddock, his drooping shoulders indicative of his lack of success.

Now, it was her turn.

Taking a deep breath, Antonia gathered the reins in her gloved hands. After casting her eyes about one last time for a glimpse of Lord Carlyle, she lightly flicked the crop against the mare’s withers and urged her forward. Once clear of the trees, she pushed Foxfire into an easy canter and made directly for the man who was still standing at the edge of the paddock.

The steward, having turned at the sound of a horse approaching and assuming it to be Mr Davlin, stopped short at the sight of a lovely young woman riding towards him. When he saw who it was, he smiled and respectfully tipped his cap. ‘Afternoon, Miss Hadley. Can I help you?’

‘I certainly hope so, Mr Bingham. I—’

‘Toni!’

The childlike cry of delight rang out before Antonia had a chance to say more, and it caused Mr Bingham to turn around in confusion. ‘Tony?’

‘Toni’s here, Paddy!’ Lady Clara cried. She flew down the field towards them with the spaniel yipping noisily at her heels. ‘Toni’s here.’ She came to an abrupt halt next to the steward and then stood gazing up at the lady on the dapple grey mare with an expression of adoration. ‘Toni!’

Mr Bingham’s expression was considerably more guarded. ‘Tony?’

‘It’s…Antonia, actually,’ Antonia stammered, colouring a little. ‘And the reason I have come is to see you about the position of…riding master to Lady Clara.’

The steward’s eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘There must be some mistake, miss. I was expecting a Mr Tony Davlin.’

Knowing it was too late to back out now, Antonia offered him a tentative smile. ‘Yes, I know. But as strange as this may sound, Mr Bingham, I am…Tony Davlin.’

It was quite clear that this was not the explanation Paddy Bingham had been expecting. He took off his cap again and scratched his head until Antonia felt sure he was in danger of rubbing a hole in it. ‘Well, I’ll be dam—that is, would you mind telling me what this is all about, miss?’

‘Yes, I certainly owe you that.’ Antonia unhooked her leg from around the crutch and, placing her hand in the one Mr Bingham offered, gracefully slid down from the saddle. After bending to give Lady Clara an affectionate hug, she straightened again, and then looked into the steward’s face. ‘I think perhaps I should start at the beginning.’

‘I think that might be a good idea,’ Mr Bingham agreed carefully. ‘Shall we take a walk?’

‘Before we do, might I ask if…Lord Carlyle is…likely to come down?’ Antonia enquired anxiously.

Mr Bingham shook his head. ‘His lordship is not at home this afternoon, miss. I doubt he’ll be back before dark.’

More relieved than she cared to admit, Antonia nodded and fell into step beside him. ‘Well, you see, Mr Bingham, it all started last Christmas, when I met Lady Clara at the children’s party at the vicarage…’

By the time Antonia had finished explaining the situation to Mr Bingham, they had walked fully twice around the ring. The steward had not made any interruption and Antonia had been able to relay her story in a clear and concise manner. At its conclusion, however, she paused and turned to regard the Earl’s steward with an expression that was decidedly apprehensive. ‘So you see, Mr Bingham, it was not my intention to deceive anyone. I merely wanted an opportunity to speak with you about teaching Lady Clara to ride, and I felt quite sure you would not have entertained a letter from a Miss Antonia Hadley.’

‘You’re right about that, miss, I wouldn’t,’ Mr Bingham agreed ruefully. ‘Nor do I know that I should even be talking to you about it now. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the reasons why.’

‘No, I can appreciate your concerns,’ Antonia was quick to assure him. ‘But is not the point of this exercise to find someone who has the skills and temperament necessary to teach Lady Clara how to ride?’

‘Well, yes, but…’

‘And were you impressed with the gentleman you just saw?’

Mr Bingham sniffed disparagingly. ‘Not a bit, but…’

‘Then will you not at least allow me to show you what I can do?’ Antonia implored. ‘I am a very good rider, Mr Bingham. I have studied with Captain Fozard in London, and I know that I have the skills to teach Lady Clara how to ride. She likes me, you see. More importantly, she trusts me, and you and I both know how important that is if she is to learn to ride well.’

Antonia glanced towards the little girl who was, even now, giving the pony a wide berth. ‘Look there, Mr Bingham. Lady Clara is already afraid of her pony and, if she does not learn to overcome that fear, she may never enjoy riding. That is why she needs to have trust in the person who is going to teach her. She needs to know that she will not be asked to do anything that she is not capable of doing or ready to undertake. And by trusting me, Clara knows that I will not push her.’

‘That’s all very well, miss, but—’

‘Oh, please, Mr Bingham, please say that you will give me a chance. At least let me show you what I can do. Then, if you are still in doubt as to my capabilities, I shall leave and not bother you again. What do you say?’

Mr Bingham, who was nothing if not fair, found himself in a definite quandary. Hiring a lady definitely went against the grain. But if Mr Huddlesworth was, by Bingham’s own admission, the best man that he could find for the job, did he not owe it to the young lady and to himself to see what she could do?

‘Lady Clara,’ Mr Bingham called. ‘Come here a moment, will you, sweetheart?’

Obediently, Clara rose from the grass where she was playing with the brown and white spaniel and hurried to his side. ‘Yes, Paddy?’

Slowly, the steward bent down and smiled into the little girl’s eyes. ‘Now, my little cock sparrow, how would you like Miss…that is, Toni, to take you around the ring on Teddy again?’

In spite of his reassuring voice, Lady Clara glanced at the pony with a dubious eye. ‘I don’t think Teddy likes me, Paddy,’ she replied in a small voice. ‘He…put his ears back and pulled the reins away. And then the man shouted at me.’

‘I know,’ Mr Bingham said with infinite kindness, ‘but Teddy’s fine now, and Mr Huddlesworth is gone.’

‘And you know that I am not going to shout at you, don’t you, Clara?’ Antonia said gently.

Lady Clara looked up into Antonia’s familiar face, and smiled brightly. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. Then will you try riding Teddy one more time, just for me?’

Lady Clara glanced at her pony again, but this time cautiously nodded her agreement.

Antonia didn’t even attempt to hide her relief. ‘That’s my girl.’

Mr Bingham resumed his place at the rail while Antonia led Lady Clara back into the paddock and across to where the pony stood peacefully grazing. She took up the reins, but instead of placing the little girl directly on the pony’s back as Mr Huddlesworth had done, Antonia put the reins in Lady Clara’s hands and encouraged her to lead the pony around the ring, talking to him all the while. Antonia herself stood at the other side of the pony’s head, just in case it became necessary to quickly take hold of the bridle.

As it turned out, it was not necessary, because Teddy behaved like a perfect gentleman. He walked quietly between them, never once tossing his head or pawing at the ground, until gradually, Antonia saw the look of tension in the little girl’s face begin to disappear. She even started to smile as she realised that the pony was not going to hurt her, and fed him a carrot which magically appeared from the depths of Antonia’s pocket.

In fact, it was not until Antonia felt completely sure that Lady Clara was comfortable at being so close to the pony, that she finally stopped and lifted the child on to its back, settling her gently into the saddle.

By the end of the demonstration, Mr Bingham took off his hat and scratched his head again. ‘Well, I’ll give you your due, miss. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the one to teach Lady Clara to ride,’ he acknowledged as Antonia and Clara walked towards him. ‘But I have to warn you, I don’t know how the Earl is going to take to this.’

‘I know that, Mr Bingham, but does the Earl…have to find out?’ Antonia inquired, embarking on what she knew would be the most difficult part of her plan.

Mr Bingham glanced at her sideways. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but what exactly are you suggesting?’

Antonia quickly bent down. ‘Clara, why don’t you walk Teddy around the ring while I talk to Mr Bingham? That way he can cool down a little before we put him back in the stable.’

Sweetly obedient, Clara did as she was asked. As soon as she was out of hearing distance, Antonia turned back to face the steward. ‘Mr Bingham, how would it be if you were simply to tell Lord Carlyle that you had hired…Tony Davlin, and leave it at that? You would not be telling him a lie because it is my name—in a manner of speaking. And Lady Clara will confirm it if he asks, though hopefully not with any details. You see how she already calls me Toni.’

‘I see that all right, miss, but it’s not quite that simple,’ Mr Bingham said. ‘What happens when his lordship asks to see you? How am I going to explain that Mr Tony Davlin is actually a Miss?’

‘Oh, come now, Mr Bingham. Do you really think the Earl of Carlyle is going to trouble himself over meeting his daughter’s new riding master?’ Antonia said, trying to make it sound totally implausible. ‘I am quite sure that, on the few occasions when the Earl is here, he is far more concerned with the business of the estate, or with spending time with his daughter than he is with meeting new servants. And when you consider the infrequency of his visits, is he not far more likely to cancel Lady Clara’s riding lessons altogether than to encourage them?’

‘And what if he doesn’t cancel them, miss?’ Mr Bingham persisted, having more insight into the Earl’s mercurial personality than this young lady ever would. ‘What if the Earl not only wishes Lady Clara to continue with her lessons, but insists on coming down to watch?’

‘Ah, now that is a problem, Mr Bingham,’ Antonia admitted, ‘and one with which I am going to need your help. It may be necessary to…vary the timing of Lady Clara’s lessons, if you catch my meaning.’

‘I’m not sure that I do, miss.’

‘Well, the Earl is hardly going to spend all of his time waiting for me to come and give Lady Clara her riding lesson,’ Antonia said, ‘therefore, if you can keep me apprised of his timetable, and we can schedule Lady Clara’s lessons at a time when you know he is going to be away, Lord Carlyle and I need never actually…meet.’

‘I see. And if he asks to see you at some other time of the day?’

‘You shall have to tell him that I have secured…other employment which occupies the remainder of my time,’ Antonia said, rapidly thinking it through. ‘You can tell him that…I am not available to meet with him at any other time. I am quite sure that he will accept that. And besides, if the Earl knows that you are satisfied with my work, surely there will be no need for me to meet with him personally. After all, I shall be nothing more than a paid employee in the Earl’s household.’

Mr Bingham winced sharply. That nearly made him call the whole thing off then and there. It was madness to think that this scheme could work. There were just too many holes in the fabric of the deception.

‘There’s one other thing you don’t seem to have taken into consideration, miss,’ Mr Bingham said, the grooves in his forehead deepening.

‘Oh?’

‘What if Lord Carlyle happens to pass by when you’re giving Lady Clara a lesson? It won’t take him long to realise that you’re no gentleman.’

Antonia nibbled at her bottom lip. As much as she hated to admit it, this time Mr Bingham had a valid point. What good would all of their planning do if all Lord Carlyle had to do was catch sight of her? She had already attempted to disguise her looks by wearing a boy’s clothing, and it hadn’t worked. Catherine had told her as much—

Abruptly, Antonia stopped. Yes, Catherine had told her that the disguise would not work. But she had also said that it could work, if she was only to be seen from a distance!

‘I think I can take care of the matter of my appearance, Mr Bingham,’ Antonia said slowly, ‘and since I can ride side saddle or astride equally well, my presentation on horseback should not prove to be an obstacle either for the brief period of time required. After all, we both know that the Earl seldom spends more than two or three days here, and I feel confident that we can foo—that is, make…alternative arrangements for the brief time necessary. What do you think?’

Mr Bingham sighed. ‘I think I must be dicked in the nob for even thinking this will work. If the Earl should stumble on to any of this, you’ll likely be dismissed, and me right after. I suggest you be very careful that no one, and I do mean no one, hears about it.’

‘I shan’t tell a soul, Mr Bingham,’ Antonia promised. ‘Other than my father, of course. And my dearest friend, Miss Catherine Shand.’

Mr Bingham looked pained. ‘That’s two more than I was hoping for. Do you absolutely have to tell them?’

Antonia blushed. ‘I am afraid they already know. I could not proceed without my father’s consent, and it was Miss Shand’s idea to give me the fictitious address. I do, of course, live with my father at Buntings Hill.’

Mr Bingham shook his head again. ‘This will never work. Mark my words, it’ll never work. I’ll be looking for a new position, and with not a reference to be had.’

‘Now, Paddy, of course it will work,’ Antonia said, not sure why she suddenly felt compelled to address him by his Christian name. ‘With my planning, and your invaluable help, I do not see how it can fail. And you have to believe me when I say that we are not doing this to deceive the Earl. We are doing it to help Lady Clara. Oh, please say that you will help me, Paddy,’ Antonia said, bringing all of her persuasive powers to bear. ‘Are we in this together?’

She turned her most dazzling smile on the Earl’s steward and, hardened campaigner though he was, Paddy Bingham was lost. He had never been the recipient of female cajolery before and, coming now as it did from the beautiful and sweet Antonia Hadley, he didn’t stand a chance.

‘We are, though Lord knows I must be cork-brained for saying so. All right, we’ll give it a try, miss. Can you be here at quarter past ten next Monday morning?’

Antonia thought for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure I can be but…why are you waiting a week before we start?’

‘Because the Earl doesn’t usually spend more than a few days in the country, and I want to make sure he’s gone before you conduct your first lesson.’

Antonia nodded happily. ‘All right. Then quarter past ten next Monday it is. Thank you, Paddy. Thank you very much!’

‘Don’t be thanking me just yet, miss. If his lordship should chance to find out about this, there’ll be the very devil to pay,’ Mr Bingham said ominously. ‘And don’t say that I didn’t warn you!’

As it turned out, Sebastian was still in Upper Tipping on Friday, though his reluctance to leave was due more to the presence of the beautiful Miss Antonia Hadley than it was to any matters of business. He was aware of a growing feeling of curiosity about the young woman he had chanced to meet in town, and had been unable to forget the striking loveliness of her face.

He was also hopeful that he would be able to breach the wall of reserve which seemed to have sprung up between them. It had been clear from the tone of her voice that he had offended her by his careless remark about her mother, and he truly wished that he had known of the situation beforehand so that he might have avoided it. But Sebastian refused to believe that Miss Hadley would continue to hold a grudge against him. If he took pains to call upon her and her father, and to make his apologies in a sincere and meaningful way, surely she would relent. He did not like to think that the lady held him in any personal dislike. They had not known each other long enough for that kind of enmity.

The ride to Buntings Hill was not a long one, but Sebastian’s thoughts were suitably occupied the entire way there. There were a number of matters which he needed to review in his mind: the cost of improvements to several of the older tenant cottages, the wisdom of clearing another field for the purposes of increased crop production and, of less importance, the commencement of Clara’s riding lessons with Mr Tony Davlin.