Alice And The Colonel Page 2

  The barmaid swung her hips at the soldier and collected the tankard. As she reached the doorway, she turned to him. “It was a ha’penny.” She grinned and quickly scarped indoors.

  The soldiers’ laughter followed Alice as she briskly set off down the street. She arrived at her destination—the Dancing Bear Inn—a respectable lodging house compared to the previous establishment, where people enjoyed good fare with conversation. Certainly more expensive, however, nobody would be spanked on those premises.

  Alice nervously opened the door to the dining area with its low timber beamed ceiling and oak panelled walls. The tables against the wall had wooden partitions separating them, allowing some privacy. She was quite aware of the risk she took in being seen by somebody who knew her. However, she didn’t think many would be about that evening given the regiment in town. They kept to their own houses, like her parents.

  Alice blamed the scarlet uniforms. They lured her into making mischief. The tailored jackets with rows of buttons, white breeches tight about the legs and the weathered deerskin boots. Scabbards about the hips, some tatty others shiny, and below the chin the black cravats and stiff collars, highlighting a man’s strong neck. She could not resist the fashion of the military. It made her bosom ache, legs quake and other sensations that she could not determine or explain—causing a fizz of excitement within her belly.

  The small group of officers—two lieutenants and a subaltern—huddled about a trestle table with beer tankards in hand and hats off. Before them each a platter of bread, cheese and pickles. Alice approached tentatively, suddenly feeling very foolish and uncertain of her intentions. Would they talk to her, tell her tales of campaigns and battles? She was woefully ignorant of the life of an army officer. Lacking informative gossip, she filled her imagination with the romantic notion of chivalry and Calvary charges.

  Her pride wouldn’t let her turn around. She had made her decision and stubbornness would see her through.

  In the end, the introductions happened far easier than she could have anticipated. The men, seeing her approach, rose and greeted her with keen smiles, finding Alice a chair. They quickly introduced themselves with small bows.

  “Please, do us the honour of your name, miss,” asked the dark haired lieutenant. Alice guessed he was the eldest of the three and the senior in rank.

  “I am Miss Alice Aubrey of Dodsworth House,” she said, performing a small curtsey before sitting down.

  The three men, dark haired Lieutenant Cole, stocky Lieutenant Mosley and freckled face Ensign Boyce, immediately took to ingratiating themselves upon the blushing Alice.

  “Enchanted to meet you, Miss Aubrey,” said Mosley, raising his tankard in a toast. “We are fortunate to be graced with such splendid company, are we not gentlemen?” The others eagerly nodded and clinked the tankard with their own.

  “We don’t usually have such a pretty face around our table,” added Cole.

  Alice felt the sizzling rush of blood to her cheeks. “Why, lieutenant, you are too kind.”

  Cole called over a serving woman, requesting an extra tankard and before Alice could stop him, he had poured her beer from the jug on the table. Alice had never drunk tavern beer before that evening. Her stable drink at the dining table was a glass of elder wine and occasionally a glass of punch at a dance. The only time Alice had consumed beer had been at coaching inns when her father had permitted her the weaker small beer given to children on long journeys.

  It never crossed her mind that the officers might deliberately ply her with strong ale. They were decent men, not like the ones at the other tavern.

  “Where have you fought? In France? Spain?” She waited to hear their tales of adventure, her fingers gripping her tankard tightly.

  Mosley chortled. “Miss Aubrey, we are the militia. We serve only here in England. I joined the regiment last year, these fine men, six months ago.”

  “Oh,” Alice’s voice dropped. She could not hide her disappointment and peered down at her half empty tankard.

  Mosley spoke quickly. “We have our excitement in other ways.”

  Alice leant forward. “You do?”

  Cole topped up her tankard and recounted tales of camp life. The tricks they played on each other to pass time and fight the tedium of duties. Between mouthfuls of bitter ale, Alice sniggered at the antics of men skirting their responsibilities. “What happens if you get caught?”

  “Ah,” Mosley shook his head. “Not for the ears of a young lady.”

  Through a haze of tobacco smoke, Alice noticed Cole whisper something inaudible in Mosley’s ear. The lieutenant grinned broadly, his eyes shining in her direction. Boyce gave Mosley a nudge of his elbow and Mosley stood up. He offered his hand to Alice.

  “You look flushed, Miss Aubrey,” remarked Mosley. “How about some fresh air.”

  The stifling heat of the inn smothered her. She fanned her face with hand. “I do believe a little stroll outside might clear my head. I do feel quite peculiar.”

  Alice staggered to her feet, giggling at her ineptitude. Mosley caught her elbow and looped her arm under his, and she leant on his body. Outside, the cold night air struck her face and a wave of nausea accompanied her dizziness. She had no idea of the time.

  “Where are we going?” She stumbled on a cobblestone.

  “Careful, sweet Alice,” murmured Mosley. “This way. I’m sure the cool air will help you. I often find a walk is excellent for the health, don’t you think?” Mosley continued to prattle, an inconsequential stream of words that failed to penetrate into Alice’s befuddled head. She swung on his arm and found his tone soothing. Where were they going?

  Leading her away from the inn, the lieutenant directed Alice towards a side alley. “Come I’m sure this is a short cut to the park.”

  “It’s little late in the night for a walk in the park.” She looked back over her shoulder at the main street and wondered if it would be better to stay in the light.

  His hand drifted up and down her back, roving about her narrow waistline and squeezing her flesh through the corset. Alice jerked back around. Was a firm hand, she noted and strong. She quite liked it being there, if only because it stopped her from losing her footing. She forgot about streetlights and parks. She had the company of a fine officer and she revelled in the attention once again. If only her head didn’t swim about so much.

  Mosley put his mouth close to her ear and began to sing a ditty. “As pretty Polly Oliver Sat musing, ‘tis said, a comical fancy came into her head.”

  Alice, with a keen ear, quickly picked up the melody and joined in with the lieutenant. “Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove, I’ll list for a soldier and follow my love.” Her words slurred, as did Mosley’s. The song seemed to echo many of her own thoughts and desires and as a consequence, her voice grew louder as she followed Mosley’s lead. “And Polly, restored to her womanly state, found all she had sought in a home and a mate…”

  She stumbled over the cobblestones, almost falling and soaking her flimsy shoes in a dirty puddle. Seeing her wet feet, Mosley knelt down, lifted up her skirt and ran his hand over her mud-splattered ankle.

  Alice stared down at him, transfixed by his roving hand underneath her raised skirt, fingertips pressing on her joint. She could not quite believe her eyes, a young officer in his smart uniform on his knee, caressing her leg. She blushed and felt giddy with excitement.

  “I’m quite sure it isn’t sprained, my dear Miss Aubrey.” His voice sounded husky and low. He looked up. However, his face was cast in shadows and she could not read it.

  She put her weight on the leg. She felt no discomfort. “I’m sure it is fine—”

  Mosley quickly interrupted. “But, perhaps I should take you somewhere dry to check properly?”

  His suggestion somehow made it past her drunken arousal and she registered it as too forward and inappropriate; a quite impossible request for her to carry out. Perhaps, the lieutenant conducted a ruse upon her. A cold rush of air blew u
p her skirts. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus her scrambled thoughts. Suddenly, things didn’t feel quite right.

  Alice shifted her foot backwards and out of his grasp. “Kind sir, I need to return home.”

  “I can help you home,” said Mosley rising up. As his head came close to her, it rubbed against her thigh, ruffling her skirts. Alice’s legs wobbled, reaching out she grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. Mosley, tugging on her outstretched hand, drew her closer to his polished breast buttons.

  “I do not think this is… appropriate,” hiccupped Alice, trying to push him away.

  “It most certainly is not appropriate!” A voice boomed from the other side of the street.

  Alice squinted under the moonlight at the figures on the other side of the street. A couple came out of the shadows into the light cast by the streetlight.

  “Alice Aubrey!” exclaimed the man.

  “Mr Huddlestone!” gasped Alice. Before her stood one of the most well known figures in town, Mr Huddlestone, owner of a silk weaving works to the north of the town. Somebody well known to her father as a worthy client and appreciative recipient of Henry Aubrey’s engineering skills.

  Even in Alice’s drunken state, the enormity of her discovery wasn’t lost on her. Her legs almost gave out as her heart pounded in her chest. She stepped away from the inebriated officer, whom seemed oblivious to her predicament. Another figure appeared at the end of the alley.

  “Dear me,” stuttered Alice, unable to find an excuse for her state nor for the lack of chaperone.

  “Miss Alice?” the other man came closer. It was Grainger.

  Alice had never been so relieved to see a friendly face. “Grainger, please take me home. There has been a terrible mistake.”

  “No mistake,” said Mosley hoarsely. “The lady was quite happy to come walking with me.” Alice took another step away from the officer, who seemed intent on making sure she took the blame for his improprieties. How could he be so thoughtless?

  The mill owner scowled at the lieutenant. “Maybe in some places you frequent, but not in Macclesfield. Your kind are not welcome, sir. Be off with you. I shall be having words with your commanding officer.”

  Grainger, his face etched with concern, hovered close to Alice. “I waited for you, miss,” he said softly. “Then, I knocked on the door and the master of the house was quite adamant you hadn’t been a calling this evening. I’m sorry, Miss Alice, I will have to speak to your father, he will want to know why you are late returning home.”

  Nerves were an excellent cure for drunkenness. Alice swallowed back the waves of nausea, straightened her back and thanked the Huddlestones politely for their intervention. Grainer led her to the awaiting gig, letting her hold his elbow as her wobbly feet negotiated the slippery paving.

  “I came looking for you,” said Grainger, helping her up into the seat. “The thought of returning to Dodsworth and telling your father you are missing… it would have been unbearable.”

  Alice’s lips trembled. She was in much trouble, far worse than she could have ever imagined. Her father rarely chastised his only child, her mother even less, yet she didn’t think they would ignore her atrocious behaviour. Grainger lay a horse blanket over her legs. Alice shivered, wrapping her arms about her body, hugging herself. It was then she remembered she had left her pelisse in the inn—her name embroidered on the collar.

  Chapter Three

  Colonel Edmund Seymour dismounted from his horse and took a deep breath. Before him stood a country house blessed with many fine features and well maintained. He ran a finger around his cravat. It felt especially tight about his neck. The morning light reflected off the windows, a good number of windows, none of which had been bricked up, meaning the occupants could afford to pay their taxes. It pleased him to know the family within had fared well over the years since his last visit.

  From the back of his horse, he gathered up the item of clothing he had brought to return. The innkeeper had handed it over to the colonel and the garment verified the name of a woman. Her name, given to Edmund by an irate mill owner, who claimed the young lady had been caught in a disgraceful act in the company of one of his junior officers.

  The scandalous tale had been told to him at his lodgings shortly after breakfast. He had immediately apologised to the man, an important representative of the town’s factory owners, and he had promised to investigate the matter. His next point of call had been the Dancing Bear Inn. There he had been met by the innkeeper, a man already unhappy at the state of affairs in his establishment. Bills unpaid, rooms left in an atrocious state and much drunkenness.

  “My inn is a decent establishment, sir,” the rotund proprietor had said. “This must stop, colonel. As for your lieutenants, they had the company of a young lady last night and she left this behind.” The innkeeper handed Colonel Seymour the pelisse. The name clearly stitched on the inner lapel in white thread. More evidence of the night time travesty.

  Following more apologies, the colonel had gone in search of the miscreants. What followed had been heard about the inn. The officers, hung over, dressed in nothing but their breeches, faces white and stomachs gurgling, had received a verbal reprimand they were unlikely to ever forget. Their privileges stripped away, pay docked and extra duties assigned; duties none of them liked to perform.

  Now, having ridden over to the home of the Aubrey family, he had yet another apology to impart with regard to the behaviour of his officers. He also wanted an explanation. Why had Alice Aubrey been out unaccompanied in the middle of Macclesfield—a situation Edmund would never have tolerated if she had been his responsibility; he would have taken her over his knee without hesitation for such an act of folly.

  * * *

  “Ned!” Henry Aubrey greeted Edmund in the library. Bounding over, the older man grasped Edmund’s hand tightly in both of his own.

  “Henry,” acknowledged Edmund sombrely. Immediately, he could see the effect of time on Henry’s face. It had been years since his last visit and the aging process had quickly crept over Henry. Edmund saw the extra wrinkles about the eyes, the grey strands in his thinner hair and an expanding belly.

  Edmund recognised other less tangible features no doubt caused by the stress of the previous night. The lack of sleep clearly present under his eyes as was the pale pallor of the skin.

  Stepping back, Edmund stood up straighter. “I am here to offer my formal apology for the conduct of my officers. Their activities last night were deplorable. They confessed to enticing Alice into drinking beyond acceptable limits. I can ensure you they have been reprimanded and given punishments befitting to their rank.”

  Henry nodded and then offered Edmund a seat by the fireplace. “Thank you. I would like to think your admonishment would be sufficient to draw a close to the whole affair. Unfortunately, I fear that Alice’s and our family’s reputation has been ruined. I depend greatly on recommendations for my work. Now…” Henry’s voice trailed away.

  “I understand,” said Edmund, saddened by his friend’s distress. “How is Alice today?”

  “Confined to her room,” said Henry briskly. “She was quite ill upon her return last night. Between her ramblings and Grainger’s revelations of her compromising encounter with your officer, we deduced she had behaved despicably. My wife is distraught. Neither of us slept a wink.”

  “How came she to be in town, alone?”

  “Oh, Ned,” groaned Henry, “I am a foolish man. I haven’t been a good father.”

  “Surely not, sir,” countered Edmund.

  “No, no. The fault is mine. I love my daughter, my only child. I have spoilt her and spared the rod. I travel much and in my absence, she fills her head with nonsense. I should have sent her to school and not had her tutored here. She is quite innocent and at times unruly. She lied, deceived us. Yes, she should be punished, given a whipping, but I am a weak man. I haven’t the heart to be harsh.”

  The door opened and in swept Jane Aubrey. Edmund rose
and there were for a few seconds smiled as he greeted her.

  “The Huddlestones!” exclaimed Jane taking a seat. “Of all the people to meet in such an appalling circumstance. It will be all about the town, her voracious mouth will not cease in its mission. Any chance of a good match for Alice is ruined.” Jane burst into tears, fumbling for a handkerchief. Her husband offered her his own.

  “There, there, my dear.” He patted her lap, but his face to Edmund was far from calm.

  “No, don’t smother me with platitudes, Mr Aubrey. We will be cast aside. After all our efforts to rise up the ranks of society, it is heart-breaking.”

  Edmund hated to see the couple grieve for their imminent social demise. He watched Henry comfort his wife and recalled what a good, kind man he had been to Edmund throughout his early life. His own father, and Henry’s childhood companion, had been a Major and quite taken to the army life, much preferring it to the sedate one of a gentleman landowner. Upon his death at the hands of the French in the West Indies, Henry had taken on the responsibility for overseeing the orphaned Edmund’s education and when Edmund chose to follow in his father’s footsteps, Henry and Edmund had corresponded, providing Edmund with much needed companionship amongst the carnage of the war with Imperial France.

  Casting his mind back to his last visit to Dodsworth, he recalled the young Alice. A mere child and bestowed with girlish prettiness. Seeing her earlier in the week, during the parade, he had been struck by her beauty. Rarely did the young women trouble his military eye. He had recognised her immediately, bringing back memories of her playing with dolls. Edmund felt pangs of sympathy towards the Aubreys, but he also felt other emotions towards their daughter, ones he typically suppressed.

  “I have a proposal,” said Edmund standing up. “As you know from my last letter, I wish to settle on my estates in Buxton. Since my regiment was disbanded at the end of the war, I haven’t taken to being colonel of a militia regiment. The calibre of men and their lack of battle experience is wearisome. I wish to retire and marry, however, I have little time or inclination to engage in romantic courtship to find a suitable spouse. Might I make a suggestion to solve all of our problems?”