Cousins of a Kind Read online

  Cousins of a Kind

  Sheila Walsh

  Copyright © 2019 The Estate of Sheila Walsh

  This edition first published 2019 by Wyndham Books

  (Wyndham Media Ltd)

  27, Old Gloucester Street, London WC1N 3AX

  First published 1984

  www.wyndhambooks.com/sheila-walsh

  The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, organisations and events are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organisations and events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Cover artwork images: © Period Images / Ian Fletcher (Shutterstock)

  Cover design: © Wyndham Media Ltd

  Also by Sheila Walsh

  from Wyndham Books

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  A Fine Silk Purse

  The Pink Parasol

  The Incomparable Miss Brady

  The Rose Domino

  A Highly Respectable Marriage

  The Runaway Bride

  Many more titles coming soon

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Preview: Improper Acquaintances by Sheila Walsh

  Chapter One

  The autumn afternoon was well advanced and looked set to fade into a watery sunset as the London-bound stage from Plymouth rattled through the village of Hatherton and came to a swaying halt in front of the local inn. The steps were hastily let down and a single passenger alighted.

  The landlord hurried from the taproom the moment he heard the coach stop. Visitors were rare, uncommonly so at this time of year, and his mind was already busy listing the contents of the larder. From the kitchen regions wafted the aroma of one of Mrs Grimsargh’s raised mutton pies, appetising enough to tempt the weariest traveller. There was also the best part of a cold ham, a couple of well-hung rabbits, and cheeses aplenty …

  He flung open the door and was disappointed to find only a slight figure standing all alone on the flagged front waiting while a shabby corded trunk was unearthed from the boot of the coach. A young lady. She turned her head to smile at him as she heard the door, her plain round bonnet framing a face that showed a pleasing merry disposition.

  Mr Grimsargh had an uneasy feeling that his wife would have something to say on the subject of unaccompanied females, though to be sure this one looked genteel enough for all that she was so oddly attired in a thick all-enveloping cloak more suited to a man. But there was no time to argue the matter; the coach was ready for the off, the young lady’s thanks having been delivered most cordially in a clear light voice filled with unusual cadences. He swallowed his misgivings and begged her to come through to the private parlour.

  ‘There’s a cheery fire a-going in there, miss, on account of we have a gentleman staying with us at the present. Howsoever,’ he added magnanimously, ushering her along a dim narrow passage, ‘he’ll be happy enough with the coffee room, I daresay.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ The lady sounded anxious. ‘I wouldn’t like to put anyone about.’

  He assured her that she wouldn’t be doing anything of the kind. ‘He is a very free and easy kind of a gen’lman, miss, besides which, he en’t here just now. He was away to friends yesterday and as like as not he’ll not be back until late this evening, so come along in.’

  He opened the parlour door so that she might enter. Here too all was dimness apart from the glow of the fire, but as he hurried to thrust a taper into the flames and bustled around lighting the lamps, the room leaped into cheerful life.

  ‘You are very kind,’ she said with a ready smile, glancing around at the chintz covers against the dark woodwork. ‘What a very cosy room this is, to be sure!’

  She removed her cloak and laid it over the back of a settle before crossing to warm her hands at the flames. ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you think I could have a pot of coffee?’

  ‘’Tis no trouble, miss,’ Mr Grimsargh assured her, thinking that she seemed more youthful than ever without that great heavy cloak ‒ sort of delicate-looking in her simple dark stuff dress. There’d been no mention of a room, but unless she was to be met …? Mrs Grimsargh wasn’t going to like it one bit, holding strongly as she did to the view that ‘proper’ young ladies didn’t roam the country without some kind of escort. Still, there was no call for to starve the young lass. ‘You’ll be wanting more than coffee, I’m thinking, after your journey.’ Inquisitiveness made him add, ‘Come all the way from Plymouth, have you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her mouth curved. ‘There is certainly a most delicious smell coming from your kitchens. It is making me more hungry by the minute, but …’ Her smile grew a little pensive, ‘No, I really mustn’t stay, for I very much want to reach my destination before the light goes. Do you know a house called Shallowford? The coach driver gave me to understand that it lies only a short way from here ‒ and that I might be able to hire a gig …’

  Her voice trailed away as the landlord turned to stare at her, the last lamp held up unlit in one hand while the taper burned away unheeded in the other.

  ‘Shallowford?’ he repeated, and as if to make quite sure, ‘Lord Radlett’s place?’ Then, as she nodded, ‘You want to hire a gig for to drive to Shallowford this evening ‒ alone?’

  ‘Why, yes. That is my intention.’ She opened her brown eyes very wide. ‘I am quite accustomed to drive myself, you know, and lack of company has never bothered me.’

  ‘It en’t that, miss … though I’m not saying it wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows …’ The landlord looked uncomfortable.

  She looked amused. ‘Well, then? Is it perhaps too far to reach before nightfall?’

  ‘It en’t that, either. Shallowford’s no more than a couple of miles at most.’

  ‘Yes, that is what I was told.’ She waited, but again he seemed loath to continue. For a moment tiredness threatened to overwhelm her and a trace of exasperation entered her voice.

  ‘I really must ask you to be more explicit. I cannot abide people who talk all round the point without ever getting to it.’

  She regretted her sharpness almost at once and smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry, but it has been a long and wearisome journey. In fact, there are times when I feel I have been travelling for ever. All I want is to arrive! Can you understand that?’

  ‘Course I can, miss. Very natural sentiments they are, too, I’m sure, only …’ Mr Grimsargh tol
d himself that it was none of his business, but she was such a very pleasant young lady. ‘The thing is, ye see, his lordship is a bit of a high stickler … alus was. And I reckon as he might not be pleased, ill as he is, to learn of your arriving in such a skimble-skamble fashion, beggin’ your pardon, miss, even allowing that you was expected?’ It wasn’t quite a question, but his very natural curiosity getting the better of him made it appear so.

  ‘Oh. Yes, I see.’ She uttered a short laugh, accompanied by an unconsciously weary gesture. ‘It is a nice point. You see, I am expected ‒ in a manner of speaking, though the precise hour of my arrival was necessarily vague, dependent as I was upon the somewhat unpredictable moods of the Atlantic Ocean.’ Her laugh rang out again, mocking her own absurdity. ‘I suppose I should have waited ‒ sent word. Oh, what a coil! Well, there’s nothing to be done now. I am here, and my grandfather will hardly turn me out of doors, I hope!’

  A degree of comprehension was beginning to dawn upon the bemused landlord ‒ the odd manner of her speech which he hadn’t been able to place was at once clear to him. ‘You’m from America!’ He looked at her as though thunderstruck, and with her dark merry eyes confirming it, he wondered why he hadn’t seen the likeness before. ‘You’m never Mr John’s lass?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Her voice was suddenly eager. ‘Did you know my father?’

  ‘Know him? Bless my soul, I should just say I did! Why, he’s crossed this threshold more times than I’d care to count ‒ him and Mr Geoffrey both ‒ alus kickin’ up larks, they were, but not an ounce of malice in them, you understand.’ He sighed heavily. ‘And now they’re both gone ‒ Mr Geoffrey killed at Waterloo and then your pa ‒’ He busied himself with the last lamp so as not to seem too inquisitive. ‘Sudden, was it?’

  Theo Radlett felt the swift rush of anguish which she had not yet learned to master. She said tautly, ‘Quite sudden. A kind of accident.’

  ‘Ah!’ said the landlord sagely. He waited for more, but when it failed to come, he cleared his throat and absently mangled the remaining piece of taper between restless fingers.

  ‘That must have been a nasty shock for you, miss. But you’d others ‒ family, maybe, to help you through?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I am quite alone.’

  The landlord was by now in a dilemma and knew not how to resolve it. ‘Well, I’m right sorry, miss.’ He took refuge in speech while his mind grappled with his problem. ‘We was all properly cut up when Mr John took off to America after that last difference with his lordship … Difference!’ He chuckled. ‘Proper blue the air was, so I heard! Beggin’ your pardon, miss,’ he added hastily, remembering to whom he was speaking. ‘Course, the old gentleman had ever a short rein on his temper, but I don’t reckon as he ever thought Mr John’d up and leave for good. Still an’ all’ ‒ he sighed again ‒ ‘it don’t seem right to be speaking ill of him now, what with all the grief that’s been visited on him. Taken to his bed and in a poor way, so they tell me …’

  ‘Oh dear!’

  Mr Grimsargh couldn’t decide whether the young lady sounded sympathetic or apprehensive, but either way she ought to have matters made clear to her afore she went making bad worse … and it seemed that he’d have to be the one to do it.

  ‘All in all, Miss Radlett,’ he began nervously, ‘things being what they are … and all taken into consideration … I en’t sure that it’s such a good idea, you goin’ along to Shallowford and surprisin’ his lordship. Could give him a nasty turn …’

  She put her hands to her face in a gesture of indecision. ‘Do you really think so?’ She looked out at the fading afternoon. It did not look welcoming. Common sense told her that the innkeeper was right, but with the end of her journey so nearly in sight the thought of any further delay was frustrating in the extreme. ‘Oh, but I don’t see how that could be. He is expecting me sometime, after all.’

  ‘That’s as may be, miss, but it’s like this, you see ‒’ He stopped abruptly.

  From outside the window came the sound of a carriage rattling over the cobbles at a great rate, slowing as if swung into the stable yard, and a deep peremptory voice shouting: ‘Sammy! Come along, you lazy young lummock ‒ look lively!’

  ‘Oh Lor! ’Tis Mr Benedict!’ Somewhere in the depths of the inn a door slammed, and at the sound, Mr Grimsargh grew flustered. ‘Forgive me, miss, but I must just have a word …’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘By all means, sir. But if your guest wishes to have his parlour to himself, pray tell him that I shall not be in the least offended.’

  It was too late. The door opened and a gentleman strode in, halted upon seeing that he was not alone and, noting the presence of a young lady, removed his hat unhurriedly, set it on the table with his gloves, and came forward; his drab driving-coat open and billowing gently as he moved.

  He was a tall, loose-limbed man of some thirty summers, with a certain air of fashion about his dress, though it was marred by a careless want of attention to detail. His lean, rather swarthy face had registered momentary surprise upon finding the room occupied, but settled back almost at once into its harshly etched lines. He lifted the quizzing-glass that swung from a black ribbon about his neck.

  ‘Ma’am.’ He bowed, and the trace of irony in his voice was echoed in the light grey eyes which he then turned enquiringly upon Grimsargh, in whose face agitation was writ large. The amusement deepened, and he said softly: ‘Do I intrude?’

  The landlord became over-hearty. ‘No! No indeed, Mr Benedict! As if you could ever be guilty of such a thing! It’s just that … well, I wasn’t expecting to see you quite now.’

  ‘Indeed, why should you?’ The stranger cast a further glance at Theo. ‘As it happens, the business I had in London took less time than I had expected, and since I had no wish to suffer the company of my cousin, Beau, or that young cub and his mama for one moment longer than I must …’ The stranger left the sentence in mid-air as he shrugged himself out of his coat and flung it carelessly over a chair. ‘I thought perhaps a pint of your best ale? However, if I am de trop, you have but to say.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, sir. You couldn’t have come more timely, to my way of thinking.’

  Miss Radlett did not understand the curious atmosphere that had developed, but judged that it was time to intervene.

  ‘Indeed, sir, I fear it is I who intrude,’ she said pleasantly, moving across to the settle where her cloak lay. ‘I am aware that you have already bespoken this room, so I will leave you to take your ease in peace. Perhaps, landlord, when you have attended to Mr Benedict’s needs, we could finish making arrangements in the coffee room ‒ about the conveyance? I can perhaps take some coffee while I wait.’

  She smiled at them both, and with the cloak heavy across her arm, turned to leave.

  ‘One moment, ma’am, if you will.’

  She hesitated, and the gentleman studied the heart-shaped face lifted to him, faintly blushing, dark eyes agleam with unspoken query, and resolute chin. A few chestnut curls escaping the confines of her bonnet lay against one flushed cheek.

  ‘You have the advantage of me,’ he began, and saw her unusually thick dark eyelashes quiver as her eyes widened in query. ‘You clearly know my name,’ he explained. ‘Am I not to know yours?’

  ‘I cannot see what purpose that would serve’ ‒ a polite smile and a decided coolness in her voice saying as clearly as words that she was not that kind of young lady. Again she turned to leave.

  ‘Oh dear, oh Lor!’ uttered Mr Grimsargh in the tones of a man much troubled and confused in his mind. ‘Miss ‒ I do think perhaps you should …’

  ‘You do?’ Theo threw the landlord an incredulous, half-impatient look, and then turned it upon the amused gentleman. Her chin came up with a certain hauteur. ‘Well, I’m sure I don’t see why I should, but since you are both set on it, then I will tell you, sir, that I am Miss Theodora Radlett.’

  She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect, but the stranger cert
ainly seemed to have been shaken out of his complacency.

  ‘Did you say Radlett?’ As she nodded, he stared at her, disbelief stamped across his harsh features. ‘And are you travelling alone, Miss Radlett?’ He appeared to choke on her name, his face a blank.

  It was the second time she had been asked that question. Really, everyone was behaving in the oddest way! Theo began to feel irritated. She was tired, confused, and edgy about her forthcoming interview with her grandfather. She could do without the added unwelcome attentions of a possible madman.

  ‘Quite alone,’ she said firmly, and lest he should take any wrong notions into his head, ‘Perhaps you know my grandfather, Lord Radlett? I have come all the way from Philadelphia to see him, and if you don’t mind, I would very much like to do just that without further delay, so I will bid you good day, sir.’

  But before she could move he had flung back his head with a great shout of laughter, which echoed and bounced among the low heavy beams of the ceiling.

  ‘Of course!’ he cried. ‘Theodora ‒ Theo! Oh, it’s rich, Grimsargh ‒ by God, it’s rich! Don’t you see, man! Miss Theodora Radlett is from Philadelphia … and Philadelphia is in America!’

  ‘Mr Benedict, ’ave done, do, sir!’ muttered the discomforted landlord, who had stolen a swift glance at the young lady and had surprised a look in her eyes that reminded him irresistibly of her choleric grandparent. ‘I know well enough what’s what ‒ and what I say is, there’s no call to carry on like that afore Mr John’s daughter. Downright embarrassin’, that’s what it is!’

  ‘Pray do not be thinking for one moment that you are obliged to consider my feelings.’ Unsure still whether he was mad or merely insolent, Miss Radlett was curt, the hold on her temper strained almost to breaking point. ‘If Mr Benedict is pleased to regard my name as an object for mirth, I am sure he is at perfect liberty to behave as he chooses. It is not for you or me to read him a lecture on manners. Neither, however, do I intend to stay here and endure his insulting behaviour.’