‘Heart of oak are our ships,’ screeched the countess.
‘Heart of oak are our men,’ bawled the earl.
‘We always are ready; Steady boys, steady,’ roared Lord Frederick in a deep bass.
And then the Twitterton family, Hannah, Miss Wimple, Mr Biles, Belinda, and the marquess all joined together in the last of the refrain:
‘We’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again.’
Mr Judd’s performance was cheered. Much emboldened, he went on to sing: ‘Oh, the roast beef of England, And England’s roast beef!’
The countess was noisy in her delight and called to Mrs Judd to sing something. Hannah almost held her breath. She hoped Mrs Judd would not sing something operatic. To her relief, Mrs Judd threw a rather saucy look at the earl and began to sing merrily:
‘A Captain bold, in Halifax, who dwelt in country quarters,
Seduced a maid who hanged herself, one morning in her garters,
His wicked conscience smited him, he lost his stomach daily,
He took to drinking ratafee, and thought upon Miss Bailey.
Oh, Miss Bailey! unfortunate Miss Bailey.’
Then, when the company had finished laughing at the plight of Miss Bailey’s ghost, Mrs Judd sang a sentimental ballad. This, too, pleased the countess immensely.
Penelope looked covertly at Belinda Earle. But the girl was still not beautiful at all; in fact, she looked crushed and diminished. Why was it then that Frenton appeared to be trying to seem unaware of her and Lord Frederick kept beaming at Belinda with a silly smile on his face? Then, horror of horrors, Lord Frederick left his post by the fire-place and drew up a chair next to Belinda’s. Before the arrival of the marquess and these hell-sent stage-coach passengers Lord Frederick had been behaving with Penelope just as he ought. He had paid court to her beauty and found every opportunity to be in her company.
Penelope could not know what was going on in Lord Frederick’s rather simple brain. He had been thinking what a rare treat this evening must be for a common lady like Belinda and how she would no doubt cherish it forever and talk to her grandchildren in later years about the evening she spent in a noble household. It made him feel grand and sort of Lord Bountiful-ish. In a pause in the musical recital, he asked Belinda what she thought of the hunting-box. Her reply startled him. ‘It always amazes me,’ said Belinda, ‘that a building called a mere “box” should always be so very large and grand. Mind you, my lord, I have only stayed at one before and that was at Lord Bellamy’s near Nottingham.’
‘Coach break down there as well?’ he asked sympathetically.
‘Oh, no,’ said Belinda. ‘Lord Bellamy is my great-uncle.’
‘Haven’t seen Bellamy this age,’ said Lord Frederick, barely able to believe her.
‘He died last year,’ said Belinda. ‘My Great-Aunt Harriet, Lady Bellamy, lives in The Bath, and it is there that I am bound.’
He looked at her doubtfully. ‘I have heard of ladies travelling by the stage because it saves the expense of out-riders, postilions and goodness knows how many other servants.’
‘It was the decision of my uncle and aunt to send me by the stage,’ said Belinda.
‘How came it you landed in at Baddell Castle? Pole break?’
‘No, worse than that,’ said Belinda. ‘The driver was drunk and fell asleep. The coach left the road and we landed in the middle of a river. It was there that the marquess found us.’
‘Well, if that don’t beat all. What an adventure. Were you hurt?’
‘I sprained my ankle.’ Belinda poked a neat foot forward to show him an ankle wrapped in a bandage.
‘I say, you should rest that. Better get Mama to find you a bedchamber. Hey, Mother, this lady’s hurt her ankle. If you ain’t got any bedchambers made up, Miss Earle can have mine. She’s old Bellamy’s great-niece, by the way.’
‘How is he?’ asked the countess.
‘Dead, my lady.’
‘Sad. What of?’
‘A seizure, my lady.’
‘And what of that moralizing wife of his?’
‘At The Bath, my lady. I am to stay with her.’
‘Sorry for you and that’s a fact.’ The countess fell silent, for the Judds were preparing to sing again. They sang several popular duets and rounded off their recital with a rousing rendition of ‘Rule, Britannia!’
Amid the noisy applause, the countess strode over to the piano and accosted them. She began to question them about themselves and, on finding out all about the seminary, and then about the Marquess of Frenton’s introductions, an idea hit her. She knew that her peers considered her an eccentric and the only way she could ever outshine anyone was on the hunting field, but since only ladies of her own rather masculine stamp hunted, there was not much of a feeling of success in that. But if she could produce these singing Judds in her own drawing-room in the town house in London as her find, she would be able to put a good few aristocratic noses out of joint. Overwhelmed with gratitude, the Judds breathlessly agreed. Satisfied and delighted with their gratitude, the countess rang the bell and ordered bedchambers to be made ready for the stage-coach passengers whom she had previously expected to bed down on the floor of the servants’ hall.
The marquess was wondering what to do. He wanted to talk to Belinda but she was being monopolized by Lord Frederick. His eyes drifted over the assembled company. Miss Wimple, wearing a tremendous turban to disguise her shaven head, was talking in a low voice to the Methodist minister. The marquess studied the minister and his eyes sharpened. Hannah, watching from her corner, noticed that Mr Biles saw the marquess looking at him and the way Mr Biles flushed and averted his eyes.
Penelope at that moment caught Lord Frederick’s eye and beckoned to him. With a hurried excuse to Belinda, he rose and went to join her. The marquess took his vacated seat.
‘I am pleased to see you again, Miss Earle,’ he began.
Belinda bowed her head but made no reply. Her eye-lashes were very long and silky, the marquess noticed. Belinda Earle was like a good painting that one could examine at length and each time discover something new and pleasing. ‘I was on my way to The Bath,’ he said, unable to bring himself to say that the sole reason for his journey was to look for her. ‘I was very surprised to find the Jordan family here.’
Belinda looked at him, startled. ‘I had assumed you came with them!’
‘No, unfortunately they had to leave the castle.’
She had a sudden hope that he had sent them packing. ‘Why?’
‘Because I am having all the rooms redecorated and, alas, Miss Jordan is made quite ill by the smell of fresh paint.’
Meanwhile, Lord Frederick was telling a highly irritated Penelope about Belinda’s good social standing. ‘Odd, is it not?’ he asked.
‘What is odd?’ snapped Penelope.
‘That Miss Earle should choose to travel by the stage.’
‘There is a great deal odd about Miss Earle,’ said Penelope, lowering her voice. ‘Do you know she had the temerity to make an assignation with the Marquess of Frenton?’
‘When? Where?’
‘She sent him a letter. My maid told me of it and I thought I had better warn that travelling companion of hers, Miss Pym, about it as her real companion was ill. But Miss Pym, as far as I can guess, did nothing. Miss Earle is a well-known hussy.’
‘How shocking,’ said Lord Frederick. ‘Thought Frenton was courting you, or rather, that’s what the gossips said.’
‘He was,’ said Penelope in a sad voice. ‘But I asked Mama and Papa to take me away, for I fear I and the marquess would not suit. He is a trifle old and set in his ways.’ She cast Lord Frederick a languishing look. ‘I prefer younger men.’