Aldwyn looked about him with perfunctory approval before seating himself. He was still in a black mood.
“What can I offer you, my dear chap?” asked Barclay. “Ale, a glass of wine, or something else?”
Aldwyn accepted a glass of wine, and, having civilly toasted his friend, drained it in uncivil haste. The captain raised his eyebrows but made no comment, merely rising to refill the glass.
“Sorry. I needed that,” said Aldwyn, treating the second glass with more ceremony. “Just made a damned fool of myself, Barclay. At least — no, hell and the devil, I don’t altogether regret what I said! But you won’t have the least notion what I’m talking about. I’ve just been paying a visit next door.”
The captain looked startled. “To Mrs. Fordyce?”
“No, to her friend. Mrs. Fordyce was not at home.”
“Quite right. Saw her go out earlier.”
“I needn’t tell you that I’m not in the habit of calling on females of quality when they’re unchaperoned,” went on Aldwyn with a cynical twist to his mouth, “but on this occasion I considered my action justified. You know that business about Colby we spoke of the other day?”
Barclay nodded; he was all attention now.
“Well, I tried to get my sister to give Miss Melville a hint, but she wouldn’t, so I decided to tackle the matter myself. Damned idiot that I was!” he finished explosively.
“She didn’t take to your kindness?”
Aldwyn shifted uncomfortably. “My fault, in a way. I put the thing badly — said she was encouraging him.”
“H’m, no, dare say she wouldn’t care for that.”
Aldwyn gave a short, mirthless laugh. “She left me in no doubt of it. And then the business went from bad to worse. Don’t know what came over me, but I said wild things — made devilish accusations —”
He drained the second glass; once more, Barclay refilled it and poured another for himself.
“I may have a wrong impression,” he said carefully, as he reseated himself, “but I had the notion that you and Miss Melville were only slightly acquainted, in spite of your families being neighbours.”
“Yes — and no. We formed an acquaintance while my sister and I were staying at Aldwyn Court on account of my father’s illness. I — oh, you may as well know the whole, and a damnable business it is! I made her an offer of marriage at the time.”
Barclay choked a little over his wine. “The devil you did! I collect she did not accept?”
Aldwyn explained briefly how matters had stood.
“So there it was, you see,” he concluded. “I had decided to settle down and take a wife, and Miss Melville needed an establishment of her own. Seemed an ideal arrangement, but it didn’t suit the lady.”
“A — er — convenient arrangement, at all events,” amended Barclay. “No question of, um, affection in the matter?”
“On the contrary, I was becoming quite fond of the girl, for we had a deal in common and were quite well suited, you know. But if you mean one of these headlong passions, which is what she evidently wished for — no fear of that!”
“Odd word to use; fear,” commented the captain, shooting his guest a curious glance.
“Manner of speaking. But, to tell you the truth, fear’s not so far off the mark. I was in love once, but never again! It’s like the measles, thank God: you don’t catch it twice.”
“I knew a chap who had measles twice. I was at school with him,” retorted the captain, chuckling. “So don’t be too cocksure.”
“Anyway, I’ll take good care it don’t happen to me.”
The captain reflected that possibly the stable door was being slammed too late. To his shrewd eye, it appeared his friend was already showing a rash.
Chapter XXI
Henrietta slept badly that night. As she tossed and turned, every detail of the distressing scene between herself and Mr. Aldwyn, every word that had passed, came clearly before her again and again. It was odd that when she had tried to recount the story to Louisa, she had been unable to remember exactly what had been said, yet now, in the dark solitude of her bedchamber, she appeared to have gained total recall. It was the last thing she desired; far better to banish it from her mind forever.
In particular would she have wished to bury in oblivion the memory of the final incident of that interview, when he had crushed her to him in an embrace that held nothing of tenderness, but only a fierce intent to hurt and humiliate her. It had been an insult. And yet, to her secret shame, she had felt a moment of exhilaration in his rough, contemptuous grasp.
She could not blame herself for the quarrel. His attitude had been uncompromising from the start… Although he had claimed to be performing the office of a friend, he had gone about the business in a way that no woman of spirit could possibly tolerate. It had seemed as if his real intention had been to criticise her unmercifully and to heap insults upon her. Could it be, as Louisa had suggested, that he was jealous of the attentions paid her by other men? Jealousy was an emotion of insecurity, suffered by those who loved but doubted a return of their affections. Obviously that did not apply here. Pique, then? From what she had learnt of his character while they were together in the country, she could not bring herself to believe that he was capable of allowing such a petty feeling to govern his actions. She knew that he was not a small-minded man; in spite of all her indignation against him, she still could accord him a grudging respect.
It seemed far more likely that he was disappointed in her. During their meetings at home, a friendship had been ripening between them based on mutual liking and respect; what he had seen of her conduct since coming to Bath had made him feel that she was no longer the kind of woman to whom he wished to offer friendship.
This was such an upsetting thought that she found her pillow wet with tears before she pulled herself together sufficiently to remember that she was the injured party. What right had he to criticise what was only harmless fun? And if he had not found her attractive enough to fall madly in love with her, why should he complain because there were others who took a different view? It would do him good to see that Henrietta Melville was a woman whom men could desire.
One thing was certain. He was not going to browbeat her into giving up her friendship with Mr. Colby.
On the following morning she and Louisa were about to set out for the Pump Room, when Fortescue was announced.
“Something to show you,” he said importantly. “Outside, if you care to take a look.”
Curiosity impelled them to comply with this request. They were rewarded by the sight of a brand-new curricle with bright yellow wheels, drawn up before the house. Two handsome bay horses were harnessed to the vehicle, their mettlesome qualities admirably controlled by a liveried groom who touched his hat to the ladies.
“Ain’t they prime bits of blood?” said Fortescue proudly, walking round the horses to show off their points.
Louisa had little knowledge of horseflesh and less interest. But Henrietta, reared in the country sporting community, was able to join in his raptures.
“Altogether a spankin’ equipage, wouldn’t you say?” he went on enthusiastically. “A present from my aunt — my birthday, you see.”
They both congratulated him on this event, and agreed that the gift was certainly handsome.
“Wondered if you’d care to take a turn about the town with me?” asked the young man diffidently. “Just to try their paces, y’know.”
He looked at Henrietta as he spoke, making it clear that the invitation was meant only for her.
She glanced doubtfully at Louisa.
“Why, yes. I’d be delighted, but the truth is that Mrs. Fordyce and I were about to set out for the Pump Room at present. Perhaps some other time —”
His downcast countenance bore completely the appearance of a child disappointed because he could not show off a new toy. Fortunately, at that very moment, with his usual careful timing, Captain Barclay emerged from the house next door and came up to t
he group. He, too, was ready to appraise and admire Fortescue’s equipage, an operation that took some time and caused the horses to fidget.
“Mustn’t keep ’em standing any longer, my dear chap,” warned the captain. “They’re craving exercise.”
Fortescue agreed. “I was trying to persuade Miss Melville to accompany me on a short drive,” he added, “but it seems the ladies are bound for the Pump Room. Pity.”
“Oh, but there is no reason why Miss Melville shouldn’t go with you, if she wishes,” put in Louisa quickly. “I can perfectly well walk to the Pump Room alone, as I was always used to do before she came to stay.”
“If you’d do me the honour to accept my escort, ma’am,” said Barclay promptly, “I was bound that way myself.”
Henrietta was assisted into the curricle, Fortescue seated himself beside her and took up the reins, while the groom climbed nimbly up behind into the dickey seat.
They started along Pulteney Street at a spanking pace. At first Henrietta was a trifle nervous about her driver’s expertise. To her, Fortescue had always appeared a mere boy, in spite of his three and twenty years. She soon saw, however, that it was not the first time he had driven a spirited pair, for he was quite capable of controlling them.
“It is certainly a splendid gift,” she remarked presently. “Lady Bellairs is very good to you.”
“Yes, the old girl generally turns up trumps,” he answered. “Talking of trumps, wish I could do the same! The devil’s in the cards for me, lately. I’ve dropped a packet. Scarce know which way to turn, to own the truth.”
“You play cards with Mr. Hinton-Wellow’s set, do you not?”
“That’s so. Play quite a bit with Colby, though, just the two of us. Dashed good player, Colby; lucky, too,” he added enviously.
“Do you think he has more luck than most players?” she asked, forcing a casual tone.
“Oh, I don’t know. Never thought about it. All I know is that he’s luckier than I seem to be.”
She would have liked to press the point further, but decided against it. In spite of her repudiation of Mr. Aldwyn’s warning against Colby, an uneasy doubt had invaded her mind at Fortescue’s words.
“Well, you will just have to give up cards for a time,” she said lightly, “until you’ve come about.”
“A fellow’s got to have some diversion,” he complained. “Squirin’ my aunt to all these dashed balls and concerts ain’t my notion of fun, I can tell you! Another thing —” he glanced at her uncertainly — “don’t like to mention it, but I’m at point non plus as far as you’re concerned.”
“I? What can you mean?”
“This maggot my aunt’s got into her head about you,” he replied gloomily. “Thought it would answer if I made up to you, but no such thing! Dashed poor notion that turned out to be!”
“Oh, dear,” said Henrietta in an apprehensive tone. “Do you mean —?”
He nodded. “She wants me to pop the question at once. Says if I don’t, Colby will get in first, or even that prosy fellow Burke. What’s to be done? Devil of a coil ma’am!”
Henrietta sighed. “Indeed it is, but I must say, I anticipated such an eventuality. I suppose I was foolish to agree to your scheme.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It was a bit of a lark, after all, and it did hold her off from thrusting other females at me. I suppose,” he went on, his expression brightening, “you wouldn’t consider marryin’ me? Come to think of it, if I must marry, I’d as lief have you as anyone. You’re a rare sport and a dashed pretty girl beside! I’ll wager that if I put my mind to it, I could fall in love with you in less time than it takes the cat to lick its ear!”
Henrietta could not help laughing. After a moment, he looked ruefully at her and joined in himself.
“What a very odd declaration, to be sure!” she said, sobering. “But I beg you won’t — fall in love with me, that is. I think you ought to postpone that process for several years yet, and then choose a girl younger than yourself.”
“I’m three and twenty now,” he protested. “And you’re no more than that, I’ll stake my last penny!
“Alas, you’d lose it. You have no more talent for wagers than you have for cards, I fear. I can give you more than two years, you know.”
“You can?” He seemed genuinely amazed.
She nodded, laughing again. “Yes, but there’s no need for you to blazon the fact abroad! No female likes to be thought older than she is, and to be thought younger is extremely pleasant.”
“No fear of that. Doubt if anyone’d credit it, anyway. But even so, that’s no bar to our gettin’ wed, is it?”
“Not that alone, no,” replied Henrietta slowly. “But there are other reasons.”
“Colby?” he asked with a shrewd glance.
To her annoyance, she found herself blushing, but she merely shook her head in reply.
“Not sure, y’know, that he’d be any safer bet than I am,” he said. “Devil of a gamester, by all I’ve seen. No, for a nice, steady husband, Burke’s your man, though I’ll wager a filly of your spirit would die of boredom in a twelvemonth if you were hitched to him! Still, as Aunt Euphemia’s always saying, females must do the best they can for themselves, and God knows I ain’t a good catch! Most likely gamble your fortune away in no time. Come to think of it, wouldn’t be sportin’ to let you take the chance. I may be a rum ’un, but I ain’t as rum as that, damned if I am.”
She laid a hand gently on his arm. “No, you are not,” she said softly. “Under all that nonsense of yours, you’ve a good heart.”
He gave a shaky laugh. “What, me? You’re thinkin’ of some other chap, Miss Melville! A care-for-nobody, that’s Roger Fortescue!”
“You’d like to make everyone think so, at all events.
But can’t you possibly bring yourself to face up to Lady Bellairs and tell her that you don’t wish to marry at present?”
He whistled. “Tall order, that. She’d most likely cut off the dibs straight away.”
“But surely you could manage to live within your income if you really set your mind to it?” insisted Henrietta.
It was evident from Fortescue’s strained expression that he was bringing his by no means disciplined intellect to the consideration of this problem.
“Might go on a repairin’ lease to my brother’s place in Leicestershire for a bit,” he said at last. “Come to think of it, the huntin’ season’s not far off, and I’d get some famous sport there. Not sure, though, about facin’ up to Aunt Euphemia; she’s got the devil of a temper.”
“But she’s very fond of you, so it’s unlikely her anger will last. Besides, she can only respect you, however unwillingly, for insisting on your right to decide matters for yourself. I dare say she still thinks of you as a boy. It’s for you to disabuse her of the notion.”
“Ay, and lose the best part of my funds in playin’ the man!” he retorted with a wry grin. “But never fear, I’ll have a touch at it, if only to please you. Y’know, ma’am,” giving her a glance compounded of affection, exasperation, and amusement, “you’re a powerful advocate! Reckon you ought to set up as a missionary, or — or go into Parliament!”
Henrietta shook with laughter. “A female in Parliament! That would be the day!”
“I don’t know,” he said judicially. “Lot of old women there already, to my way of thinkin’.”
Aldwyn, insisting that he really must take his chestnut mare out for some exercise, declined his sister’s invitation to accompany Sir Giles and herself to the Pump Room that morning. Sir Giles showed an inclination to ride with him but was put off by the impression that his brother-in-law did not wish for company.
The events of yesterday were still occupying Aldwyn’s mind, even though he had found some relief in unburdening himself to Barclay. Polite conversation must be something of a strain until his equilibrium should be restored, and he judged that exercise was the one method certain to achieve this desired end.
A brisk canter
through Weston and the neighbouring villages northwest of Bath however, brought him back in much the same mood as before. He was riding down the Lansdown Road toward home when he casually noticed a very new equipage in the press of traffic coming toward him. Something vaguely familiar about the lady passenger made him look more carefully; he recognised Miss Melville.
She looked extremely attractive in a claret-coloured pelisse and straw bonnet trimmed with pink flowers and ribbons, and she was leaning toward the driver of the curricle in a very intimate way, smiling up at him. They were evidently much too engrossed in each other to notice anyone who was passing, so Aldwyn went unacknowledged, for which he was thankful.
After luncheon, a meal at which he was unusually silent, he seized the first opportunity that offered of a private conversation with his sister.
“I shall be returning home tomorrow, Almeria,” he announced without preamble.
She looked surprised. “But why, Julian? There was a letter from Mama this morning saying that all is well with Papa, as I told you. Moreover, Jane is still there with her family. There was some trouble about the apple loft and Mama’s workbox, which I didn’t trouble to read out to you for you didn’t seem in a mood to enjoy it. But it did sound as though those three boys are in splendid form.”
“I dare say I shall manage to survive,” he replied brusquely. “Anyway, I’ve made up my mind to go.”
“Is it anything I’ve done, Julian?” she asked in a small, pathetic voice. “You are vexed, I know, but I cannot think why. I wish you will tell me.”
He gave her a quick hug. “Absurd creature! No, it’s certainly nothing to do with you, or Giles, for that matter you’ve both been ideal hosts. But I feel restless. I must be on the move.”
“There was a time,” she said, still in that unhappy voice, “when you would have confided in me. And it’s of no use for you to pretend that there’s nothing to confide, for I know you too well, my dear.”
A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine Page 20
