Claudette’s face paled as she watched Henry stalk away. “I think I may ‘ave made a serious faux pas.”
“Never mind that.” Bella was furious. “It would be worth it to invite Jack here, to see if Henry could make good his threat. He’s so… pompous! Sometimes I hate my brother almost as much as Marie Froggatt, or Annie the Dullard. Really I do.”
“You think zees Jack would be more than a match for our proud lord of ze manor?”
“Indeed, I do. He’s not stocky like Henry, but he managed to keep Annie Tullard out of the carding machine… and that takes some doing.”
Claudette’s eyes were round with interest. “Who are zees people? And what ze events you describe? You must tell me more.”
But Bella had stopped listening, distracted by the sight of Henry trying to escape the clutches of Daisy. Max and Daisy hadn’t been in each other’s company at all for the last few days—clearly, they’d had a serious disagreement. Neville was watching too, and apparently finding the spectacle hilarious.
He’d been in and changed into what must be considered a professional wrestling outfit, though Bella couldn’t be sure. Like his opponent, the bulky Adam Sunbury, Neville wore a tight, one-piece costume. It was cut low on the chest, revealing his pale, hairless skin, but also exhibiting the sinewy muscles with which he hoped to win the contest. Because he wouldn’t have made such a fuss about having it if he hadn’t been sure he was going to win, would he?
Bella thought Neville would have the advantage of speed over Sunbury, who lumbered when he walked. But she wasn’t prepared to make any wagers on it. Gambling was something she’d always detested.
When the match began, it was much politer than she was used to. She kept wanting to jump up and down, and shout at Neville to ‘slug him one’, but as no one else was doing it, she knew she shouldn’t. What would Mama say, if she could see how they were all enjoying this bit of ‘barbarity’?
Using his superior strength, Sunbury managed to pin his opponent to the ground several times, but each time, Neville squeezed or rolled out from underneath him. She glanced to the side, to see how her brother was liking the fight—and was transfixed.
Henry stood stiff and straight as a statue, no hint of a smile on his face. Whenever Neville took a tumble and groaned, he winced like he felt the pain himself. And when Neville’s arm was twisted up painfully behind him, Henry went white and looked ready to burst in and separate the wrestlers. His features twitched into a grimace of pure hatred each time Sunbury had the advantage.
There was so much to know about Henry, so little she really understood. Bella was used to seeing him angry—that was the only emotion he showed—and she wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling anything else. Now, though, he was angry on behalf of someone else—protective even.
When the battle was finally over, and Neville proclaimed the victor, Henry was the first to embrace him, and pat him warmly on the back. A few ladies hurried forward to favour the handsome hero with a kiss, but Henry rapidly steered Neville out of their way and off into the house for, he explained, the air was chill, and the new champion mustn’t catch cold.
So, her brother could be considerate, then. But if he had it in him to be kind to Neville, why could he not behave in a more caring way towards herself and Mama? There was something going on here that needed to be exposed and worked on, if Henry was ever to be a better man—more like Jack, for example.
She’d have to see what she could find out.
Chapter 65
It was late, and Bella ought to be in bed, in her high-ceilinged, elegant room. But there was a restlessness in her tonight she couldn’t quell. Maybe it was the excitement of the day, the new people, Henry’s unaccountable anger over Neville and the wrestling match—or perhaps it was just loneliness.
Mama had had nothing to say for herself on her return from Ashwell—she hadn’t visited Grandpa, that was plain. No one had found much time for Bella during the rest of the day—Claudette must have been worried about her slip in front of Henry, as she didn’t try to talk to Bella at all in the afternoon.
The evening had been spent discussing hunting and the theatre. The first was a subject to which Bella had strong objections, but the disapproval of everyone else in the room had silenced her. She’d never been to a theatre and soon tired at the mention of names and playhouses that meant nothing to her.
The stark truth was, she felt invisible, unnecessary. Alright, so she had wanted to fade into the background to avoid any possible suitors Henry had found for her, that much was true. But no obvious candidate had been thrust upon her, so she didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Now, instead of wanting to be overlooked, she felt insignificant and uninteresting amongst these people, people who led much more exciting lives than she ever had.
“I want Jack.” she muttered to the night-time shadows. “I want my friend back. He understands me—I know he does. He knows where I’ve come from and he knows how I’ve lived.” Her mother ought to understand too, having had to work for a living herself, and spent some time in the workhouse. But no—she’d been only too glad to forget the past. She’d boxed it away, scorched it out of her mind as if to deny that it mattered, that it was ever part of her experience.
There was a lump in Bella’s throat as she thought of Jack. There’d been trouble between them, yes, but there’d been understanding too and finally, on both sides, acceptance. No, she wouldn’t cry—she mustn’t cry. She should get up and do something—fetch some milk from the kitchen perhaps, or have a browse in the library.
As she passed the door to the dining room, she heard voices coming from the conservatory beyond. Everyone should have been in bed by now—but if there was still some company to be had, she would join it. It was better than prowling the corridors and might quieten her mind.
The glass door was open, but there was very little light, perhaps a single candle. The leafy palms and desiccated vine leaves were bathed in shadow, and it wasn’t until she eased past them that she saw where the light was coming from. The owners of the muted voices must be sitting on the long, wrought-iron bench next to the orchid bed. It sounded like two gentlemen, speaking softly, so she stole behind a bushy shrub and peeped out at the small circle of light, not sure if Mama would think it proper that she join them.
One of the men was her brother, his golden hair tousled, and his shirt undone. He sat knee-to-knee with Neville, apparently involved in some deep argument.
“You’ve been acting like a bitch on heat all day,” he complained. “You know Sunbury’s not sure which side the wind blows from yet, and still you deliberately taunt me by wrestling with him.”
Neville threw up his hands. “I confess it. But you know you like a little spice in your relationships. I wouldn’t want you thinking there was no competition over me, you know. Indeed, there is much.”
“What the Hell do you mean by telling me that? Do you know how that makes me feel? Imagine what it must be like to see you, writhing around on the grass with another man, his hands where my hands should be… and you were all over him. Don’t think I didn’t notice all the unnecessary touching that went on.”
“You shouldn’t be so possessive, Henry.” From her hiding place, Bella could see Neville looked amused. “It is only you who will get hurt by it. Don’t you know that a bird deprived of its freedom does not sing so sweet as one that can fly whenever it wishes?”
Bella stood motionless, her mouth gaping as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Henry’s face, already shadowed, had reddened. He said next, in a voice low with threat, “Are you trying to tell me there have been others… that there are others? Or even that you plan to add the lumpen Sunbury to your list of conquests?”
Neville tossed his head, eyes sparkling. “And if I should, what is that to you? You don’t own me.”
Bella stifled a gasp as Henry’s fist swung up in an arc, but he opened it before it made contact with Neville’s face. Even so, the force of the blow sent Neville reelin
g. He responded in kind, and Henry’s hand clasped his burning cheek. Then as the two men sat there, their chests heaving with emotion, Henry reached forwards and gripped Neville roughly by the hair. She winced, terrified there was to be a serious fight.
But instead, her brother dragged Neville’s head against his own and thrust his mouth over the other man’s. She watched in amazement as Neville grasped at Henry’s shoulders, but he didn’t push him away—he pulled him forward, and then his hands were entangled in Henry’s hair, and he was kissing him back. Neville bit Henry’s lip and a tiny dribble of blood flowed down his chin, but he didn’t seem to mind. He moaned softly, and his fingers flexed against Neville’s shoulders. Gripping each other like bears in a battle, the men swayed on the seat, then crashed onto the tiles, laughing and pulling at each other’s clothing.
Bella took advantage of the noise to slide away, and once she was out in the corridor, she kicked up her heels and ran for the main door. The key slipped from its hook and clattered on the floor, and when she retrieved it, it refused to go into the lock. But she didn’t care now how much noise she was making.
As soon as she was outside, the night air hit her like a solid thing, chill and black. But she pushed through it, even though her feet stumbled, and ran, picking up pace as she went. One of the guard dogs, Caesar, chased after her on great silent paws, then came alongside her, enjoying the activity.
“Horrid! Unnatural! Oh, Neville, how could you? I thought you were nice. Ah… foul!”
When she reached the gates, she hung there breathless. She could go no further. What was she to do? Neville—pleasant, witty Neville—was not what he seemed. And her brother… It wasn’t just the fact they were lovers that horrified her—it was the violence of the passion between them. She’d seen many sights in her time that had made her feel sick to the stomach, but to witness a scene such as that, amongst members of the upper classes who she had always supposed set the best example, was more than she could bear.
I must be strong. I’ve been strong before, and I can do it again. But I can’t stay here now… not now I understand.
It was obvious now why Henry had been so insistent she marry as soon as possible, to provide Linden with an heir. There was no hope of his ever doing so. And so, she was trapped because he would never change—oh, no, not Henry. She was as much in prison now as she had ever been in the workhouse, when her life, every minute of every day, was ordered by others. The only answer was escape back to the freedom of Warbury, back to the comforting arms of Jack. If he would have her—if he could forgive her enough to take her back after she’d left him like that.
Tears threatened, and as she tried to swallow them back, a wet nose pushed into her palm and it was the dog, worried.
“Oh, Caesar. Have you come to cheer me up?” She reached down and patted his head in a rhythmic, mindless manner. Suddenly he let out a deep woof of excitement and stiffened.
There was a man standing on the other side of the gate.
Chapter 66
The low light of the gas lamp illuminated the man’s face. Bella trembled, staring, disbelieving, at that face. The eyes, in darkness now, she knew to be pale blue-grey, so transparent they revealed his every thought. She recognised his light brown wavy hair, which had bleached almost blond in the summer. His was the face she had seen before her mind’s eye every day of her exile—a face she admired, cherished, could not forget.
Jack was standing right on the other side of the gate now, his hands, the knuckles white, clutching the iron bars just above her own. He looked down at her, and his mouth moved, but no words came out.
Her voice quavered. “Jack. Oh, Jack.”
“Bella.” He stared and stared at her as if he were devouring her with his eyes. “You look very grand.” Then he winced. “This is no time for small-talk, is it? I can see you’re upset. Is it me? Should I have stayed away?”
“Oh, no, no!” She shook her head rapidly. “It’s not you, never you. It’s… something I find hard to talk about—it’s still so new.”
His hands slid down over hers, hope kindling in his eyes. “Then you’re glad to see me?”
“Of course.” Tears of relief sprang into her eyes. She hadn’t really known, until now, just how much she needed him. She had thought she might always be on her own, have to stand on her own two feet, like she had done since a child. But it was so much better with two, two people standing together to face the world.
He scanned the gate. “I’ll climb over.”
“No, no, you’d hurt yourself. I can get the key. Tomorrow night—can you come back tomorrow night?” Could she wait that long without shattering?
“Like a thief in the dark? I’d rather not. I was planning, in the morning, to call on you properly, like the gentleman I am. I’ve only just arrived in Ashwell, and I found… I found I had to come to the place you were living right away. A sense of unease… but never mind that. I never expected such good luck as to find you here. Why are you here, Bella, without a coat or a shawl? You should go back inside, or you’ll freeze.”
“I came out in a rush. Look, I can’t tell you why right now, but please, don’t call at the house tomorrow.”
Jack was frowning—he didn’t understand, and she was too afraid to explain for fear of what he might do. But Henry’s threats were ringing alarm bells in her head. Before Jack could protest, she said, “It’ll be exciting, don’t you think, for me to give you a night-time, secret tour of the house? Just like you did with me in the factory? It’ll be like having the place to ourselves—our best chance of being alone. Do say you’ll do it, to please me.”
His fingers now caressed her hands, which were growing colder by the minute. “You should go in now before you catch a chill,” he said softly. “Tell me when and I’ll come if it pleases you.”
She named a time, then gazed up at him, hoping her smile showed what was in her heart, that she felt sure of him, that she knew her own feelings. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”
He didn’t answer, just leaned his forehead against the unforgiving bars that stood between them. She pulled herself up on her toes and offered up her mouth. He changed his position, but the kiss they shared through the bars was only a sip of heaven, a tantalising wisp of ecstasy, and not nearly enough.
Jack groaned out his frustration, and his gaze flicked to the top of the railings again, but Bella thought about Neville and Henry and said, “No, you’d best not.”
His hands gripped hers again. “I can’t help but wonder who’s imprisoned here—you or me? Which side of this gate lies freedom?”
“Your side,” said Bella, “And that’s for sure.”
He kissed her knuckles. “Go now. You feel like a block of ice.”
“You go first. I want to watch you walk away.”
He sighed. “Very well. Until tomorrow night then.” He walked backwards, never breaking eye contact until he was beyond the reach of the gas lamp. He paused, then she heard him turn and stride quickly away.
She clung to the bars, willing her eyes to penetrate the deathly blackness that had swallowed him up. Then, craning her head and glaring at the bright moon, she murmured, “He came. He came for me. And I don’t care what Henry or Mama or anyone else says—I’ll not let him leave here without me.”
She would get the key to the gates—she knew where it hung. The butler, Phillips, slept so soundly he’d never hear her. She could find a hurricane lamp in the boot hole and take that. The dog, Caesar, was her friend—he shouldn’t be a problem. She’d let Jack in and show him all around—the grand hall and drawing room, the main music room, the dining room with its engraved glass gas mantles… Then they’d make their plans because he must want to take her with him, he must care for her, for why else would he have come?
She ran back to the house, frost crunching beneath her feet. The night was clear, and there was no wind except the speed of her passage, but the rhododendron bushes rustled as she passed, and she halted her flight, heart thump
ing. Was somebody there? Ice skittered down her spine. Then Caesar backed out of the bushes and barked at her, loudly, urgently.
“Oh Caesar, you silly thing, it’s only me. Come on.” When the dog lolloped across, she bent and fondled his ears and made a fuss of him, because her heart was light now, lighter than it had been for months.
Jack had come for her, and she was going back to Warbury.
Chapter 67
Daisy hunted Henry down to the library, bursting with her news.
“Good morning, Henry!” She reached out a finger and traced his lips, which looked bruised. When he twitched away irritably, she said, “I know something that will amuse you, something that will bring a smile to that sulky mouth.”
“I’m not sulking. And show some respect for Max. Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been trying to do. It’s childish, using me to make him jealous. And it won’t work anyway.” He smiled, but there was no humour in it. “He knows me too well for that.”
Infuriating man. She resisted the urge to pout at him. “Please yourself. But I think you may have kinder feelings towards me when you know what I have to tell you.”
He turned wearily away and sank down into a huge leather library chair. She moved to perch on the edge, but a quelling glance from his green eyes forbade it. She stiffened her resolve, and decided to pace slowly in front of him, hoping to tantalise him with her silence.
He looked bored, so she clicked her tongue and said, “I’m not trying to make Max jealous, anyway. He and I are finished—I’m a free woman now. I have my own room. Didn’t your mother tell you?”
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