Count The Stars

Chapter One 1825-2

“I have not said I am going to accept your ridiculous challenge.”

“Then, of course, I shall look forward to being best man at your wedding.”

The Duke laughed as he walked across the room with a glass of champagne in his hand.

“You are trying to push me into a tight corner. I know your tactics only too well.”

When he had given the champagne to his friend, he walked to the window to look out at the trees in Berkeley Square.

It was a sunny day and it struck him that it was a mistake to waste time in London when he might be in the country.

The gardens at Hurst Castle in Hampshire would be looking very beautiful and he thought it was a long time since he had bathed in the sea from his house in Cornwall.

“Come with me, Freddie,” he said most beguilingly. “It would be fun if we were together. At least we would be able to laugh, as we laughed in the war.”

For a moment Freddie Stanley was tempted.

It was true that when the two of them had joined Wellington’s Army when they were eighteen, the privations, the hunger and danger and even the appalling casualties had been mitigated because they were together and because nothing seemed quite so bad when it was shared.

The Duke turned round to wait for Freddie’s reply.

“No,” Freddie said firmly and his voice seemed to ring out.

“No?”

“No,” Freddie reiterated. “You know as well as I do, Brock, I shall be running round obeying your orders and making life better and more comfortable for you than they would be otherwise.”

He grinned as he added,

“You have become considerably more authoritative in the last ten years, but I haven’t forgotten that at Waterloo you purloined my water-bottle because you had forgotten your own. I parted with it as if you had a right to it.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Freddie!” the Duke exclaimed. “What has that got to do with it?”

“A great deal,” Freddie replied. “It has been the same ever since. You know as well as I do it is ‘Freddie do this,’ and ‘Freddie do that’. I obey you willingly because I am fond of you, but for once you are going to have no one to order about except your horse.”

“I wonder you don’t expect me to walk to York.”

“That’s an idea, but it would take too long. And quite frankly, I will miss you.”

“You are absolutely confident I shall agree to your nonsensical idea!”

“If you think it out, it is an excellent one considering all the circumstances. You will tell your household you have gone abroad, so there will be nothing Imogen can do about that, and your other subservient creatures can cancel your engagements and answer your love letters.”

The Duke suddenly laughed.

“Freddie, you are a fool! But because you are a fool who always amuses me, I insist you come with me.”

“Chickenhearted!” Freddie retorted mockingly. “Or merely afraid that you will lose your way, as you did one misty night when your Company nearly walked into the French lines?”

“Curse you, it was not a mist but a fog,” the Duke replied. “Anyway, I know the way to York. I have twice been to the races in Doncaster.”

“There is one more condition which I forgot to mention,” Freddie said. .

“What is that?”

“You have to reach York without being recognised. If you reveal your true identity or you are pointed out as being the Duke, then the chestnuts are mine.”

“I assure you I have no intention of losing my horses. And I know exactly the right place to hang the Canaletto at The Castle.”

“It will remain empty,” Freddie said confidently. “And I shall warn my groom to get the stables ready.”

“Damn you!” the Duke answered. “I will prove you wrong. I will be the winner of this contest if it is the last thing I ever do!”

As he spoke, he walked across the room to the wine-cooler to pick up the bottle of champagne in order to replenish his own glass and that of his friend, so he did not notice the look of satisfaction in Freddie’s eyes.

No one knew better than he that the Duke had been wasting his life for the last few years among the so-called delights of the Beau Monde.

There were racing, mills, c**k-fighting and gambling to supplement the endless round of balls and assemblies, receptions and, of course, the dance halls of the ‘fashionable impures with whom the Noblemen spent much of their time.

Freddie had watched a young man, who had been idealistic, enthusiastic and incredibly brave, become progressively more cynical, bored and indolent and knew that the Duke was losing something very precious.

They were both of them in their thirtieth year. While Freddie had stayed in the Regiment, the Duke on his father’s death had, at first, been busily occupied putting his estates in order and then he had found little to do which required his intelligence.

There were too many skilled employees to lift every possible burden from his shoulders and as the King grew older even his hereditary duties at Court were little but a sinecure.

Freddie had thought for some time that he should do something for his closest friend, but the opportunity to speak freely had never presented itself until now.

“When do I leave on this wild-goose chase,” the Duke asked.

“As soon as possible,” Freddie replied. “Otherwise you may be quite certain that Wentover will be knocking on your door demanding an explanation.”

The Duke looked startled.

“He could hardly take me to task for not proposing to his daughter last night.”

“Why not?” Freddie asked. “The betting in White’s is that the engagement will be announced before the end of the week.”

“Why should they assume that?”

“Because Wentover has been boasting that he will be riding your hunters this winter and has already decided that he would be able to hunt with at least two more packs than he can now afford.”

“I have never heard such cheek!” the Duke said. “As he weighs at least sixteen stone, I am not letting him give my horses a sore back.”

“If you stay here, you will have to explain that to him in words of one syllable.”

“Very well – I will leave immediately after luncheon.”

Freddie lifted his glass.

“To your journey and may you find what you seek.”

“I am not seeking anything,” the Duke replied crossly.

Freddie opened his lips to refute this idea and shut them again.

He rose to his feet hampered by his riding boots.

“I am going back to the Barracks to change,” he said. “If you are still here when I return, I will say ‘goodbye’ to you then. If not, I will sound suitably surprised by your departure. I shall also complain bitterly in the Club that you did not tell me where you were going.”

The Duke, who had only taken one sip of his champagne, put his glass down on the table.

“I suppose you know that this is a crazy idea!”

“Take enough money with you to bring you home,” Freddie said. “And remember there are always highwaymen to take it off you.”

The Duke looked startled.

“Do you remember,” he continued, “how the General used to tell you to be ready for anything and remember that it’s always likely to be the worst.”

“I remember that,” the Duke smiled. “You are making me positively apprehensive!”

“You used to rather enjoy dangerous situations,” Freddie said reflectively. “But I suppose now you have grown old and fat – ”

It was not possible to say any more, for the Duke had picked up a silk cushion and flung it at him.

“You are taking an unfair advantage,” he moaned. “I would knock you down, but in that fancy rig you would only lie on your back like an old sheep.”

“When you return fitter than you are now,” Freddie answered, “I will take you on and see if you can last ten rounds. At the moment I imagine you are only capable of three.”

“Get out, damn you!” the Duke exclaimed. “I know you are only saying all this to goad me into doing what you want. Very well, Freddie, I will go to York and, if I get my throat cut on the way or die of exhaustion, I will come back and haunt you!”

“I will drive your chestnuts down to The Castle and put some flowers on your grave,” Freddie replied. “Presumably you will be interred in the family vault!”

He did not wait to hear the Duke’s reply, but went out of the library, closing the door behind him.

The Duke was laughing as he walked across the room to his desk. He seated himself in the high-backed chair on which was carved the Brockenhurst Coat of Arms.

Then he rang the gold bell, which stood beside the gold inkpot and opened the blotter on which his Coat of Arms appeared, again in gold.

A servant answered the bell and the Duke asked for his Comptroller, Mr. Dunham.

A middle-aged man, he had been with the previous Duke for the last years of his life and now served his present employer with tact, loyalty and an expertise that made everything run like a well-oiled machine.

“Morning, Dunham,” the Duke said, as he came into the room.

“Good morning, Your Grace. I have here the plans you asked for, for the construction of a private Racecourse at The Castle.”

“I have no time for that at the moment,” the Duke replied. “I am leaving London immediately after luncheon, which I wish to be at twelve-thirty.”

“I will see to it, Your Grace. Will you be driving your phaeton?”

“I am going on horseback and alone,” the Duke answered.

His Comptroller looked at him incredulously, as he went on,

“As far as the household is concerned and anyone who makes enquiries – I have gone abroad.”

“Your yacht, as you know, Your Grace, is always ready to leave harbour at an hour’s notice.”

“I have not forgotten, Dunham,” the Duke said, “but there is no need to send anyone to notify the Captain of my arrival. If I do join the yacht, it will be a surprise.”

Mr. Dunham looked faintly apprehensive, but did not speak.

The Duke went on,

“I want Hercules, no I think Samson, brought to the front door at one o’clock. After that you will not be able to be in communication with me, until I notify you of where I am.”

“I don’t wish to sound impertinent, Your Grace,” Mr. Dunham said respectfully, “but I feel worried that you should be leaving without a groom.”

“I wish to go alone,” the Duke replied firmly, “and I am likely to be away for two weeks, perhaps more. As I have said, everybody is to be informed I have gone abroad.”

He knew as he spoke that his Comptroller was longing to ask him a dozen questions, but was too well trained to do so.

“I shall, of course, require money,” the Duke said. “A Letter of Credit, which will be honoured by my bank, notes of a high denomination and, of course, enough loose sovereigns not to be an encumbrance.”

Mr. Dunham made a note on the pad he held in his hand as the Duke spoke.

Now he waited for any other instructions.

The Duke walked towards the door. He had almost reached it when he turned back to say,

“You have known me for a great number of years, Dunham. Would you say that I am out of condition in any way?”

The question took his Comptroller by surprise.

Then, knowing that the Duke expected an immediate flattering answer, Mr. Dunham hesitated.

“No need to put it into words, Dunham,” the Duke said sharply and left the room.

*

Riding North an hour later the Duke found himself resenting the implication, both from Freddie and his Comptroller, that he was not fighting fit.

He always prided himself that, unlike most of his contemporaries, he was athletically in the peak of condition as he had been when he was in the Army.

Then the long hours in the saddle, the strenuous travelling over foreign and hostile country, the fighting, the never being certain when the next meal would turn up, made him almost a young Samson.

It had in fact been his nickname amongst the men he served with and it was why he had called one of the finest horses he had ever owned by the same name.

Samson, the black stallion he was riding now, demanded all his Master’s strength and expertise to keep him under control.

The Duke knew if he was honest, that despite the pugilistic bouts and fencing which he enjoyed several times a week, he had allowed himself to gain weight and there were several more inches of flesh on his body than there had been five years ago.