not in use. Despite this disadvantage he made full use of it, then washed himself thoroughly, sponging his doeskin breeches where blobs of vomit had adhered. He then put on the shirt and jacket - both thoroughly unfashionable - and made his way downstairs.
Coralie had gone down before him and he could hear her voice as he descended the staircase.
“My dear Lady Dashwood, I have known the Earl of Cavan for some time. I met him when I acted in Dublin. He is a grand old gentleman and I believe it is a stroke of fortune that one of his sons should have presented himself here and given aid to poor Charles.”
“Oh,” answered the other in her usual flat monotone, “I am glad you are able to vouch for him. Do you think
I should invite the young man to dine?”
“Most certainly, yes. It would be a pity…”
Coralie’s voice broke off as she saw John approaching.
“My dear Lady Dashwood,” he said, making a deep bow to the senior woman. “It is time I took my leave of you. Thank you for your hospitality.”
She gave a little snort. “It has hardly been that. I am grateful to you for caring for my cousin. Lady Arundel has just been telling me how she met your father in Dublin, by the way.”
“I thank Lady Arundel for her kind words,” said John, regarding Coralie with the merest hint of a twinkle in his eye.
“Perhaps you would care to come and dine tomorrow night. Then you may quiz Sir Francis about the Penny Post.”
“I should be delighted to do so, ma’am. At what time do you sit down?”
“At four o’clock. We are in the country here.”
“I shall be here at ten to, if that would be convenient.”
“It will suit well enough. Good day to you.”
“Good day, madam. Good day, Lady Arundel. I hope your husband soon recovers.”
“Thank you. Farewell Mr O’Hare.”
He left through the main front door and went round to the stables in search of his horse, his mind in turmoil. To see the woman who had once been the love of his life so unexpectedly was bad enough. But to find her married to a drunken roue, a feckless wastrel of a husband who could not hold his liquor, was beyond the pale. And then John was forced to the conclusion that the fact that Charles Arundel was heir to the Duke of Sussex had been the factor that had decided Coralie into making such an alliance. Feeling thoroughly depressed, he entered the stable yard.
A child on a white pony was there before him. A pale, wan girl who was lifted from the saddle and placed on the ground by the groom who had ridden with her. She turned on hearing John’s footsteps and he looked into the face of Coralie Clive as she must have been years ago. The only difference was that this particular girl had pale blonde hair and blue eyes. Other than for that the likeness was stunning.
John made a bow. “How do you do, miss? A beautiful day, is it not?”
“It is, sir,” she replied listlessly.
“And do I have the honour of addressing the daughter of Lord and Lady Arundel?”
“You do.”
The groom had moved closer in a protective manner, eyeing John somewhat suspiciously.
“Allow me to present myself,” the Apothecary said, more for the servant’s benefit than the girl’s. “I am the Honourable Fintan O’Hare and I have just been calling on Lady Dashwood.”
The child made no response but the groom immediately saluted. “You’ve come for your horse, sir?”
“Yes. It is a chestnut stallion. I take it it is here?”
“I’ll go and find it, sir, and bring it round.”
He disappeared leaving John alone with Coralie’s daughter. He gazed at her, fascinated by her likeness to her mother. Yet, for all their physical resemblance, the girl was but a poor shadow in contrast to the actress, for she had inherited much of her father’s pallor and general lassitude.
“Tell me, young lady, what is your name?”
“Georgiana Arundel.”
“I have a daughter,” said John unguardedly, then realised that he had spoken out of turn.
“Oh,”
Coralie had gone down before him and he could hear her voice as he descended the staircase.
“My dear Lady Dashwood, I have known the Earl of Cavan for some time. I met him when I acted in Dublin. He is a grand old gentleman and I believe it is a stroke of fortune that one of his sons should have presented himself here and given aid to poor Charles.”
“Oh,” answered the other in her usual flat monotone, “I am glad you are able to vouch for him. Do you think
I should invite the young man to dine?”
“Most certainly, yes. It would be a pity…”
Coralie’s voice broke off as she saw John approaching.
“My dear Lady Dashwood,” he said, making a deep bow to the senior woman. “It is time I took my leave of you. Thank you for your hospitality.”
She gave a little snort. “It has hardly been that. I am grateful to you for caring for my cousin. Lady Arundel has just been telling me how she met your father in Dublin, by the way.”
“I thank Lady Arundel for her kind words,” said John, regarding Coralie with the merest hint of a twinkle in his eye.
“Perhaps you would care to come and dine tomorrow night. Then you may quiz Sir Francis about the Penny Post.”
“I should be delighted to do so, ma’am. At what time do you sit down?”
“At four o’clock. We are in the country here.”
“I shall be here at ten to, if that would be convenient.”
“It will suit well enough. Good day to you.”
“Good day, madam. Good day, Lady Arundel. I hope your husband soon recovers.”
“Thank you. Farewell Mr O’Hare.”
He left through the main front door and went round to the stables in search of his horse, his mind in turmoil. To see the woman who had once been the love of his life so unexpectedly was bad enough. But to find her married to a drunken roue, a feckless wastrel of a husband who could not hold his liquor, was beyond the pale. And then John was forced to the conclusion that the fact that Charles Arundel was heir to the Duke of Sussex had been the factor that had decided Coralie into making such an alliance. Feeling thoroughly depressed, he entered the stable yard.
A child on a white pony was there before him. A pale, wan girl who was lifted from the saddle and placed on the ground by the groom who had ridden with her. She turned on hearing John’s footsteps and he looked into the face of Coralie Clive as she must have been years ago. The only difference was that this particular girl had pale blonde hair and blue eyes. Other than for that the likeness was stunning.
John made a bow. “How do you do, miss? A beautiful day, is it not?”
“It is, sir,” she replied listlessly.
“And do I have the honour of addressing the daughter of Lord and Lady Arundel?”
“You do.”
The groom had moved closer in a protective manner, eyeing John somewhat suspiciously.
“Allow me to present myself,” the Apothecary said, more for the servant’s benefit than the girl’s. “I am the Honourable Fintan O’Hare and I have just been calling on Lady Dashwood.”
The child made no response but the groom immediately saluted. “You’ve come for your horse, sir?”
“Yes. It is a chestnut stallion. I take it it is here?”
“I’ll go and find it, sir, and bring it round.”
He disappeared leaving John alone with Coralie’s daughter. He gazed at her, fascinated by her likeness to her mother. Yet, for all their physical resemblance, the girl was but a poor shadow in contrast to the actress, for she had inherited much of her father’s pallor and general lassitude.
“Tell me, young lady, what is your name?”
“Georgiana Arundel.”
“I have a daughter,” said John unguardedly, then realised that he had spoken out of turn.
“Oh,”
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