Regency Buck Read online

  ‘That’s the Earl of Barrymore, miss,’ volunteered Judson. ‘Him they call Cripplegate.’

  The fresh team had been put-to by this time, and the lemonade drunk. Miss Taverner gave her horses the office to start, and swung out of the yard.

  The tilbury was already out of sight, for which she was profoundly thankful, and if Judson was to be believed, there would be little fear of catching up with it.

  Miss Taverner now had a fast team of brown horses in hand, and all the difference of strengthy, quick-actioned beasts from the badly-matched four she had been obliged to drive over the second stage was soon felt. The milestones seemed to flash by, and from the circumstances of the road being in excellent repair, and Judson knowing every inch of it, she was able to make up her lost time, and to reach Crawley not very far behind her brother, who had got himself into difficulties with a farm wagon just at the narrow part of the road by the George inn.

  Past Crawley the road rose steadily to Pease Pottage. There was not much traffic to be encountered, and except for one of the leaders shying at a hen which scuttled squawking across the road, the next two miles were covered without any other incident than the overtaking and passing of a very down-the-road-looking man in a phaeton and three, who took one glance at Miss Taverner as she went by, and whipped up his horses in the vain attempt to catch up with her. A golden beauty driving a curricle-and-four down the Brighton road was, after all, no everyday occurrence.

  But the phaeton was soon left behind, and Miss Taverner reached Pease Pottage, confident that she must have gained considerably on her brother. Beside the Black Swan inn a toll-gate, on the right, gave entrance to the road to Horsham, and on the left the superb beeches and hazel undergrowth of Tilgate Forest must at any other time have tempted Miss Taverner to draw rein. But her ambition was centred on overtaking Peregrine; she passed the woods with no more than a glance, and an exclamation of delight, and had the satisfaction, half a mile on, of seeing her brother’s curricle a few hundred yards ahead of her.

  She had been easing her leaders, but she let them do their full share now. Peregrine glanced once over his shoulder, and whipped up his team. The two curricles raced down a straight stretch of road, the second slowly gaining on the first. A sharp bend came into sight; Peregrine took it at a gallop, lost control, and ran his near-side wheels into the bank. Judith saw Hinkson jump down and run to the horses’ heads, caught a glimpse of the sort of turmoil that not infrequently enlivened Peregrine’s journeys, and drove past him with a triumphant twirl of her whip over her head.

  It would take Peregrine some minutes to set matters to rights, she knew, and once past him she steadied to a more respectable pace, and came presently into Hand Cross at a strict trot.

  Hand Cross was not remarkable for its size or beauty, but its chief inn, the Red Lion, a gabled building with tall chimney-stacks and a line of white posts linked by chains, enjoyed a good deal of custom. A number of post-horses were stabled there, and it was whispered in knowledgeable circles that the casks of excellent brandy in its cellars were used to be delivered under cover of night, and had rendered no duty at any port.

  As Miss Taverner drove up the street towards the inn, she saw only one vehicle drawn up under the shade of the two big trees that stood outside. It was a curricle with a tiger sitting up behind. Something in the tilt of his hat was familiar; in another minute a clearer view of the whole was obtained, and Miss Taverner recognised not only the tiger, but also the team of blood-chestnuts that were harnessed to the curricle.

  She came up alongside, heard Henry cry in his shrill voice: ‘Lordy, guv’nor, if it ain’t that there Miss Taverner!’ and saw her guardian standing in the doorway of the inn with a glass in his hand. She met his startled, incredulous gaze for a moment as she went by, bowed slightly, and proceeded on her way at an increased speed.

  Judson twisted round in his seat to look behind. Miss Taverner, despising herself, was yet unable to refrain from asking what his lordship was doing.

  ‘I think, miss, he means to come after you,’ replied Judson ominously. ‘If I may say so, miss, his lordship doesn’t look best pleased.’

  Miss Taverner gave a short laugh, and set her horses at a dangerous gallop down the hill. ‘I don’t mean to let him come up with me. He has to pay his reckoning before he can start. If I can reach Cuckfield and be away with a fresh team before he catches me –’

  ‘But Miss Judith, you can’t race those chestnuts!’ cried the groom, aghast.

  ‘We will see.We don’t know when they were put-to after all.’

  ‘For God’s sake, miss, don’t take them down the hill at the gallop! You’ll have us overturned!’

  She said coolly: ‘I am driving this curricle, Judson. Confine your attention to the view, if you please. I do not know when I have seen finer bursts of country than on this road.’

  The vale which was opening out before them as they raced down the hill was indeed beautiful, with its copses, and winding roads, and glimpses of warm-tiled roofs amongst the trees, but Judson, clinging to his seat, hoped fervently that his mistress would not permit it to distract her attention. He cast an alarmed look at her profile, and was relieved to see that her gaze was fixed on the road.

  At the foot of the hill the road cut through Staplefield Common, and ran on to Cuckfield through three miles of undulating country. The team was responding gallantly, but when they were pulled up at the toll-gate at Whiteman’s Green their flanks were heaving and foam-flecked. Every moment wasted at the gate seemed an age to Miss Taverner, glancing continually over her shoulder. The ticket was handed up just as she caught the sound of hooves thundering behind her. The gate was pushed slowly open; she started her team with a jerk, urged them into a canter, and was away again by the time Judson reported the Earl to have reached the gate.

  The way was now hollow, running between banks covered with a thick tangle of hazels. There were bends in it that ever and again hid the pursuing curricle from view, but the sound of the chestnuts’ hooves seemed to Miss Taverner to be coming inexorably closer. She held grimly to the crown of the road, determined with a queer mixture of obstinacy and unreasoning panic to prevent Worth from passing her.

  She feather-edged a corner, almost scraping the wheels of a post-chaise coming in the opposite direction, heard Judson gasp beside her, and gave a reckless little laugh. ‘How near is he?’ she demanded.

  ‘Close behind you, miss. For the Lord’s sake steady them at the next bend! It’s sharper than you know.’

  One of the leaders stumbled, but she held him up, and pressed on. The bend came into sight; she checked slightly, and hugged the left side of the road, secure in the conviction that the Earl would not dare shoot his horses past on the corner. A sharp, compelling blast on a horn sounded immediately behind her; a chestnut head crept up alongside, and in another instant the Earl had flashed by, his team at a full gallop.

  She gazed after him in a kind of horrified wonder, believing for a moment that the chestnuts were bolting. But their headlong pace was checked gradually; they dropped into a canter; continued so for a little way; and then clattered into Cuckfield at a smart trot.

  Her own team was blown; she could only follow in the Earl’s wake through the narrow street to the centre of the town.

  He reached the King’s Head considerably in advance of her and by the time she had pulled up before it he was standing on the ground awaiting her, and a couple of ostlers, shrilly instructed by Henry, were leading off his horses.

  ‘Blow up for the change, Judson!’ said Miss Taverner sharply.

  The groom, however, was looking at Worth, and did not obey her. The Earl laid his hand on the curricle, and said curtly: ‘You will be pleased to alight, Miss Taverner.’

  She glanced down into his face, and experienced a sensation of shock. She had seen the Earl supercilious, she had seen him scornful, but never had she encountered in him a look so blazingly angry. The breath caught in her throat, but she said with tolerable composure: