Marigold Chain

by Riley, Stella

  ‘I think,’ said Matt caustically, ‘that you should remember the profits – but that you’ll send it anyway and probably some more besides.’

  Chloë tilted her head and surveyed him consideringly.

  ‘It’s funny you should say that. There’s a bolt of white watered silk I thought might suit him – and it’s very much in vogue just now.’

  Matthew got up, shaking his head and tutting reprovingly.

  ‘Send the pink satin,’ he advised acidly. ‘He’d look a treat in that.’

  *

  The Queen and her ladies strolled across the sun-baked lawns, their silks rustling on the grass and the ribbons of their wide-brimmed hats fluttering gaily.

  ‘It’s so hot!’ moaned Frances Stuart as loudly as she dared. ‘Surely Her Majesty must go in soon?’

  ‘She likes the sun,’ said Elizabeth Chesterfield. ‘It reminds her of Lisbon.’

  Frances dabbed a wisp of cambric surreptitiously over her brow.

  ‘I know. But look what it does to your skin – so brown.’

  Chloë glanced round at her and smiled. ‘Well, if you stopped fanning yourself with your hat and put it on your head, you wouldn’t need to worry.’

  ‘And you know she won’t turn back yet,’ said Lady Chesterfield. ‘She’s hoping to meet the King, poor thing.’

  Poor thing, indeed, thought Chloë, her eyes dwelling compassionately on Queen Catherine who was walking a little ahead of them, chatting quietly with the Countess of Penalva and the little Buccleuch heiress. But at least she’s learned to be content with half a loaf – which is what I ought to be doing myself.

  ‘I hear,’ Lady Elizabeth was saying, ‘that your husband is out of town again?’

  Chloë nodded but said nothing.

  Frances giggled and looked slyly at the Countess, whose topsy-turvy relationship with her handsome lord was a by-word. ‘What? Are you jealous, my dear?’

  Elizabeth shrugged elegantly. ‘Nothing so fatiguing. Though I own it would be pleasant if Philip were to remove himself occasionally.’ She eyed Chloë speculatively. ‘Now you have every opportunity to amuse yourself as you wish but no inclination to do so – while I have the inclination but very little opportunity. Odd, isn’t it, how one always wants what one can’t have? Take Philip for instance; when I loved him, he loved Barbara Castlemaine – and now I’m largely indifferent, he wants none but me.’ She paused. ‘You should remember that, my dear – because they’re all the same.’

  ‘Are you saying I ought to provide Alex with a rival?’ laughed Chloë.

  ‘Stolen waters are sweet and so on,’ came the light reply. Then, ‘Did you know that Graham Marsden is dead?’

  Chloë’s breath caught and she felt suddenly chilled despite the heat of the sun.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she said. ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘Two days ago – on Friday. It’s not entirely surprising because he’s been ailing for years. But he might have lasted longer without Sarah coaxing him to take her rowing on the river in this heat. They say he just collapsed and died.’

  ‘So Sarah’s a widow again,’ said Frances. ‘Two husbands and she’s still only … how old do you think?’

  ‘She’s twenty-eight,’ replied Lady Chesterfield. ‘Though to be fair, no one would think it to look at her.’

  ‘Twenty-eight, twice widowed, rich and beautiful,’ chanted Frances artlessly. ‘I wonder who she’ll marry next?’

  The Countess looked expressionlessly into Chloë’s eyes. ‘I wonder?’

  And that, supposed Chloë, was meant as a friendly warning.

  ‘Oh here’s the King,’ cried Frances, patting her hair. And more quietly, ‘Thank heaven! Now we can go back indoors.’

  Charles was accompanied by his dogs and a small group of friends, amongst whom was the Earl of Chesterfield. Chloë caught herself watching the way his lordship’s eyes followed his wife and then rebuked herself sharply.

  ‘Next I’ll be looking around for somebody to flirt with,’ she thought derisively. And quoting Mr Lewis, ‘That’s no way to go on.’

  The two parties joined and turned back in the direction of the palace, laughing and talking as they went. With an ease born of long practice, the King dropped back to seek out Chloë and detach her from the other ladies for a moment.

  ‘It seems that Alex has rendered his country a signal service,’ he said easily. ‘Although my lord Arlington is of the opinion that it would have been significantly greater had the gentleman in question perished.’

  Chloë looked back uncompromisingly.

  ‘If Your Majesty will forgive me saying so, it’s all very well for his lordship to think that – but quite unreasonable to expect Mr Deveril to do the deed. He’s not an assassin.’

  Charles was amused. ‘My dear, I entirely agree with you. When he returns, you must send him to me so that I can express my gratitude.’ He gave her a sleepy smile. ‘When a knight has achieved his endeavour, it’s customary for his liege to offer some reward – though it cannot, I fear, be one of money. I wonder what little thing Alex would most like me to give him?’

  ‘I really can’t imagine,’ replied Mr Deveril’s titular wife. And wished, very much, that it was not a lie.

  *

  Chloë did not tell Mr Lewis of Sir Graham Marsden’s death. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to know; he was sure to hear of it elsewhere anyway. But she preferred not to contemplate its possible consequences or allow Lady Sarah’s golden image to invade her thoughts – for both seemed to give her a headache. So she resolutely banished them from her mind and was glad that she had plenty to occupy her.

  Monday the twenty-seventh passed quietly and without incident save for a rumour that the Dutch had put to sea again. On Tuesday morning, she decided to set Alex’s bedchamber in order in case Wednesday should see him home again and was just crossing the hall in search of a duster when the pealing of the bell summoned her to the front door. She opened it and then froze as she identified her visitor.

  Ethereally fair beneath a floating black veil, Sarah Marsden looked back at her mockingly.

  ‘My poor child – don’t you even have someone to answer the door?’

  ‘No,’ said Chloë sardonically. ‘I do it myself in between scrubbing the floor and scouring the cooking-pots. If you came to see Alex, he’s not here.’

  The delicate brows lifted.

  ‘I know. He rarely is, is he?’ responded Sarah sweetly. ‘No. It’s you I came to see. Are you going to let me in?’

  Chloë stepped back, holding wide the door. ‘By all means.’

  Lady Sarah drifted into the parlour, trailing widow’s weeds and the scent of cassia and, putting back her veil, examined the room critically. Then, quite unhurriedly, she turned to face Chloë and eyed her in much the same manner, while the beautiful mouth curved in a pitying smile.

  ‘He’s never touched you, has he?’ she asked, her tone liquid with sympathy. ‘Not once in all these months. But you mustn’t blame yourself, you know. It isn’t that you’re unattractive – although not at all Alex’s style. It’s simply that he only kept you to annoy me. He hoped to make me jealous and might have managed it if he’d taken you to his bed. You’ve no idea what a spectacular lover he is.’ She sighed languorously. Then with a tiny ripple of laughter, ‘But of course you haven’t. How could you? And that’s the point. Alex should have known I’d never be jealous unless I thought he’d made love to you – and one only has to look at you to know that he hasn’t.’

  ‘Is there a point to all this?’ asked Chloë. ‘Only I’m rather busy.’

  ‘The point is that I’m sorry for you. It’s very naughty of him to keep you tied to him when he knows he’ll never want you.’

  Chloë’s eyes remained completely without expression. Folding her arms and keeping tight control over her voice, she said, ‘Let’s dispense with the trimmings and cut straight to the crux of the matter, shall we? You’ve come to tell me that now you are available again, A
lex will want to take advantage of the fact. There are two very large assumptions there; first that Alex and I are not truly man and wife - and second, that he’s still in love with you. You might take a moment to think about that. You might also try to remember that Alex likes to make his own decisions.’

  ‘Well, of course, you silly girl. That’s what I’m telling you.’

  ‘No. You’re talking as if it’s a fait accompli. Perhaps you’re assuming that I’ll make everything easy by vanishing nobly into a fog of obscurity?’

  ‘It’s a matter of complete indifference to me what you do,’ replied Sarah carelessly. ‘Go or stay – you won’t change anything. I merely came to warn you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Chloë politely. ‘And do you plan to marry him this time? Because, if you do, then he’ll need to divorce me first.’

  Lady Sarah laughed again. ‘Not divorce – annul. I don’t foresee any difficulty.’

  Somewhere deep inside Chloë a spark of anger flared into being.

  ‘Don’t you?’ she asked dulcetly. ‘I can think of several – quite apart from the obvious one which you are so determined to believe doesn’t exist. And even supposing you’re right and our marriage hasn’t been consummated – what then? Are you so sure that Alex will be willing to say so? It would make him appear rather foolish, wouldn’t it? And then, of course, there’s me.’ She paused and smiled dangerously. ‘Perhaps I’m not willing to say so.’

  The cornflower eyes widened in astonishment.

  ‘But why ever not? Surely you can’t have imagined that you could keep him? The most you can do is to make it hard for him to re-marry – which is rather petty, don’t you think? For married or not, he’ll still be mine.’

  Never in her life before had Chloë encountered an ego to match Lady Sarah’s and for a moment she stared at her speechlessly while trying to force down a gust of pure temper. Finally, as calmly as she was able, she said, ‘You talk of him as if he were a lapdog. I don’t believe you’ve the remotest idea of what he really thinks or feels or wants. All you know is what you want – and at the moment, you want Alex. But want is the word. You don’t love him. You can’t. You’re too busy worshipping yourself.’

  A faint flush stained her ladyship’s cheeks.

  ‘That is ridiculous – but one sees why you’d wish to think so,’ she said scornfully. ‘After all, who is ever going to worship you? Not Alex, certainly. Why, you stupid creature – if, after eight months of living in the same house, you’ve failed to share his bed, what do you think you can possibly have to offer him?’

  Chloë was rather white but she looked back stubbornly. ‘Understanding, perhaps.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘You understand him? You? You don’t know the first thing about him! He only married you because he was too drunk to care. Had he been sober, he’d never have given you a second glance. Look in the mirror, my dear. You don’t seriously suppose yourself my rival, do you?’

  ‘No,’ said Chloë with bitter honesty. ‘But this isn’t about that. What you don’t seem able to grasp is that he needs more than a body – no matter how beautiful. If he loves you, he’ll want your heart. And I don’t believe you have one.’

  ‘I think,’ said Lady Sarah smugly, ‘that I’m rather better placed to know what Alex wants than you are.’

  ‘Well, you should be,’ retorted Chloë with grim pleasure. ‘You’ve quite a lead in the realms of age and experience, after all. But I wouldn’t have thought it was necessarily an advantage. “At twenty-five in women’s eyes, Beauty fades – at thirty dies”, you know.’

  For the first time an expression crossed Sarah’s face that was neither becoming nor confident. Then she let down her veil and walked to the door.

  ‘You are impertinent and very stupid. Are you telling me you’ll refuse to release Alex?’

  ‘I’m not telling you anything,’ said Chloë, ‘except that I’d like you to go.’

  Sarah cast her a glance of venomous dislike and swept past into the hall. At the door she paused and, producing a sealed billet from her reticule, placed it defiantly on the table.

  ‘I’m leaving this for Alex. If you open it or destroy it, you’ll simply appear childishly jealous – which, of course, you are.’ She smiled maliciously. ‘I really wouldn’t stand in his way , if I were you. When he is crossed, Alex can be quite unpleasant.’ And she flung open the door and went out.

  Very calmly, Chloë closed the door behind her and then marched resolutely away to get rid of her breakfast. Aside from the obvious, hurtful question of Alex, the whole conversation had been made worse by the knowledge that Graham Marsden had been dead for only five days. Just five days and already his widow had forgotten his existence and was planning to replace him. It was incredible to Chloë that anyone could be so ruthlessly self-absorbed. Lady Sarah was utterly beautiful – and rotten to the core.

  The Queen found Mistress Deveril pale and absent-minded that afternoon and finally insisted that she go home to rest. Chloë went without protest but she did not sleep. Instead, she lay flat on her bed in wordless communication with the embroidered tester and thought of all the things she’d tried so hard to suppress.

  Soon, tomorrow even, Alex would return and the pattern of all their lives could be changed in a single hour; or it could be if she let it. Long ago she had offered Alex an annulment. It had not been offered lightly but in reparation for her mistake in marrying him. She had promised to set him free because she’d owed him that much - and still did. And though he had seemed indifferent, she had always known that the day would come when he would cease to be so and that she would go then to the King and ask him to cut the knot. Or so she had thought until today when Lady Sarah had cast her into a limbo of doubt.

  ‘It isn’t that I want to hold him,’ she told herself, ‘or at least, I do – but not like this. If it were a question of freeing him for his own sake, I wouldn’t mind … or not so much. But I can’t – I don’t think I can free him to marry that woman.’

  Driven to a point where stillness was intolerable, she got up and walked restlessly about the room. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass and stopped, examining critically.

  ‘Well, she was right about one thing anyway,’ she thought wryly. ‘He’d have to be drunk to prefer me. But that’s not the issue. The point is what I’m going to do if I find he wants Sarah and whether I’ve the right to interfere in the only way that would work. Because if he wants to go, he will. All I can do is stop him marrying her right away in the hope he’ll see her for what she is.’ Her stomach coiled like a snake. ‘He’d never forgive me, though – and I’m not sure I have the courage to look him in the eye and say I’m going to tell the one lie that would make an annulment impossible. He’d be furious – and have every right to be. Because no matter what the circumstances, a promise is a promise. And the truth is that I can’t even be sure I’m not still hoping for a miracle.’

  And that, of course, was the most painful thought of all.

  *

  The following day Chloë resumed her duties at Whitehall with all the outward appearance of her usual calm good sense. She did not, however, attend to the matter of her merchandise and the bolts of cloth lay undisturbed in the Vintry while her prospective buyers sought an appointment with her and Mr Lewis began to worry.

  Wednesday passed without any sign of Mr Deveril and Thursday gave every indication of doing the same. Chloë completed her spell of attendance and went out into the darkness where, at the Queen’s order, a carriage always waited to take her home. She climbed inside it and found herself facing Mr Beckwith.

  ‘Hello,’ he said simply. ‘I couldn’t get near you at the palace so I thought perhaps you’d allow me to escort you home.’

  ‘Of course. I’m glad to see you – it’s a long time since I last did. You don’t visit us any more.’

  ‘No. I’ve been busy.’ It sounded lame and he knew it.

  ‘Yes. You must be glad it’s all over.’ She smiled politely. ‘W
as there something particular you wanted to say to me?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Giles. And, to himself, ‘I love you. I always have. Leave Alex and come with me and I’ll spend my life trying to make you happy.’ But he could not say those things – would never be able to say them. He tried to remember what he had planned to say to her and then, in the flare of a torch, caught sight of her face and promptly uttered the words that had been ringing in his mind all evening. ‘My dear, what’s wrong?’

  It was his tone that succeeded in piercing Chloë’s detachment and lump rose and hardened in her throat.

  ‘Don’t, Giles,’ she said, with an effort that could be heard. ‘Don’t be kind. I can’t cope with it right now.’

  He did not reply immediately but finally said, ‘It’s Sarah, isn’t it?’

  Her mouth twisted wryly. ‘Am I so transparent?’

  ‘Only to those who know you best.’ He paused again. ‘I’ve known for some time that you … have grown fond of Alex.’

  Chloë looked down at her hands, glad of the darkness.

  ‘I see. Then you know what I’m afraid of.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I always knew that something like this might happen.’ She looked up at him and her voice was utterly logical. ‘For he’s never pretended to love me, you know – or ever given any sign that one day he might.’

  Giles forced down an impulse to take her in his arms.

  ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘I know. But that doesn’t mean he won’t stay with you.’

  She gave an odd little laugh. ‘Lady Sarah wouldn’t agree with you.’

  ‘You’ve seen her?’

  Chloë nodded. ‘She visited me on Tuesday. To warn me that Alex would be seeking an annulment. Of course, she doesn’t know that he already has been.’

  There was a long silence. Giles felt his fingers begin to ache with the strength of their grip on each other but they were the gauge of his control and he dared not release them. He drew a long breath and when he spoke it was in his usual level tones.