Diamonds and Deceit (At Somerton)

by Rasheed, Leila

  She felt his hands at her waist, shifting her onto his lap as his lips moved against hers more desperately. She pressed her body against his. An overpowering need to erase the space between them had taken her over, and she ran her hands through his hair, deepening their kiss.

  Finally she drew away, gasping for breath. Her eye caught her own reflection in the mirror. She almost laughed at the sight of herself, her hair tangled and her dress ruffled.

  His breath was heavy too. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’ve made a mess of myself,” she smiled. “If my lady’s maid could see me now—” She stopped short.

  Céline. The ball. It was tonight!

  “Rose? What is the matter?” Alexander said, sounding anxious.

  “Oh!” She gasped, a hand to her mouth, as she realized the severity of the situation. “Mrs. Verulam’s costume ball. It is tonight!”

  She leapt to her feet, hastily trying to tidy her hair and her dress. It would be awful to let Céline down. This ball mattered so much to her. Alexander followed her, trying to calm her.

  “Does that matter? Need you go?”

  “Yes, yes I must. I promised Céline.” She glanced out of the window. The sun was already high. “Can we be there by this evening?”

  “If we must. But who is Céline?”

  “My lady’s maid.” She turned to him. “I’ll explain in the car, but we must go now—please!”

  London

  Ada woke slowly and uncomfortably, becoming aware that the morning light was shining directly in her eyes. She blinked and groaned and sat up.

  “Céline?” The lady’s maid was standing by the fireplace, watching her, her hands wringing her white apron nervously. Ada glanced at her jeweled pocket watch, which sat on her bedside table. “Goodness, it’s early. What do you mean by waking me at this time?”

  “I’m sorry, my lady, but there are some persons downstairs to see you. Sanders said I should wake you, because they won’t go.”

  Ada caught the fear in her voice at once, and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up and make sense of the situation.

  “Some persons? Whatever do you mean?”

  Céline bobbed a curtsy—it was extraordinary to see the usually self-possessed girl so upset, thought Ada—and scurried closer to the bed.

  “My lady, I think, I know it’s not my place to say, but I think they want money.”

  “Money!” Ada sat up bolt upright, quite awake now.

  “They mentioned Sir William’s name.”

  Ada swung herself out of bed. This had to be dealt with instantly. “I see. Very well, thank you for alerting me, Céline. Please get out my most…authoritative dress and prepare some hot water.”

  “The maid’s already brought it, my lady.” Céline hurried away to the wardrobe as Ada went to the washstand. She had spoken with more confidence than she felt. As she washed her face and allowed Céline to dress her and prepare her hair, her heart was pattering with nervousness and anger. How dared William’s creditors call here? Things must really be bad.

  She took a quick look at herself in the mirror. She looked too young, but it would have to do. The countess should not know about this; that would be too humiliating. Besides, she sensed that only an Averley would do.

  “My lady, there is another thing—”

  “Not now, Céline.”

  Ada descended the stairs and went to her father’s study, hoping that the imposing busts of Greek philosophers and the shelves of leather-bound histories would overwhelm the creditors a little.

  The vast walnut desk was a welcome defense. She seated herself behind it, playing with the gold pen that stood by the inkwell. If only she knew the extent of William’s debts. If only she had some idea what they were going to attack her with—

  The door opened and Sanders, with an air of great contempt—for which Ada was grateful—announced. “Mr. MacNab, Mr. Harrison, Mr. Smith.”

  The three men who shouldered their way inside were of a kind Ada saw every day through the window of her motorcar. Cockneys to a man, relying on weight and intimidating looks to bluster their way through life. Ada found herself wishing she had not sat down. It was theoretically the position of power, but they loomed over her threateningly. She forced herself not to get to her feet. She could not show she was intimidated. Instead she quickly registered the differences among them: Harrison clutching his cap and glancing about him, obviously more impressed than he liked to show; MacNab to the front, scowling, the clear ringleader; Smith in the background, an unknown quantity.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said quietly. “How may I be of assistance to you?”

  “We want to see Sir William,” MacNab announced. The others murmured agreement.

  “I’m afraid that is impossible. He is not in London. May I ask to what this refers?”

  “Refers to?” MacNab gave a sarcastic laugh. “Eighteen guineas is what it refers to.”

  “Sir William backed a horse, my lady,” Harrison began, wincing a little at his companion’s aggression.

  “I see.” So they were bookmakers. Ada was hardly surprised, but a white, cold flame of anger against her cousin kindled inside her. The one thing one did not do, did not even risk doing, was bring one’s family into disrepute. Her own memory of her romance with Ravi struck at her conscience, and the sparks kindled the flame. How much had she given up, so as not to bring shame on her family? And William had made it all for nothing. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that you are looking for your money in the wrong place. Sir William is not here.”

  “Are you Lady Ada?” It was Smith who spoke.

  Ada bristled. There was a complete absence of respect in his tone. MacNab’s aggression was in itself a compliment, she knew it masked fear, but this man spoke as if they were equals.

  “I am,” she replied.

  “I don’t care if Sir William’s not here.” This was MacNab again, fists clenched, leaning forward. “We must have our money and we must have it now. You can write us a cheque.”

  “I wish I could.” Ada honestly did, it would be the easiest way to get rid of them, and objectionable as they were, she had to admit they had right on their side. “But I have no money of my own.”

  “No money?” MacNab’s hairy eyebrows raised. “How much did that dress cost?”

  Ada colored angrily. But before she could answer, Smith spoke again.

  “What’s the situation between you and Lord Fintan—you two engaged?”

  Ada was breathless with shock and anger at the impertinence of the question. Smith pressed on. “Tell us yes and we’ll be off. We don’t mind waiting if we know we’ll get our money sooner or later. But seems like you don’t mind waiting either, according to the papers,” he continued, leering. “Nervous, are you?”

  Ada opened her mouth indignantly, but before she could reply, the door of the study flew open, and Laurence strode in. He was the picture of cool composure, but Ada could read the cold fury in every line of his face. She leapt to her feet in relief. Never had she been so grateful to see anyone.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Laurence demanded. “How dare you speak to a lady in this manner? I should horsewhip the lot of you!”

  MacNab squared up to him. “The lady’s cousin owes us money. You’d do well to stay out of this, sir.”

  Laurence moved toward MacNab, stopping only inches from him. He towered over the man. “You know, the owner of Kempton Park is a good friend of mine. You’ll find yourself permanently banned from the racecourse if you ever so much as look at my fiancée again. Do you understand my meaning, sir?”

  MacNab took a step back.

  Smith spoke, and his quiet, even voice had an immediate effect. “No need to upset yourself, sir. My apologies, my lady. We won’t bother you again.”

  He drifted out of the door, and after an awkward moment Harrison scuttled after him with a muttered apology. MacNab followed more reluctantly. Ada could hear his raised voice as Sanders ushered them away, complai
ning about his money.

  She exhaled, a shaky, long breath, and steadied herself against the desk. Laurence stepped forward quickly to support her.

  “Are you well? If you say so, I’ll go after the brutes and beat them to a pulp.”

  “No, no, please. You arrived just in time. I’m so grateful.” Ada realized she was trembling and on the brink of tears. Laurence helped her into a chair.

  “Sanders was clever enough to telephone. It’s unpardonable that you should have been subjected to this.” He spoke through tight lips. Ada placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him.

  “Please don’t. There was no trouble, really. William should pay his bills.”

  “It’s absolutely unpardonable,” he repeated, and shook his head angrily. “That my fiancée should have been treated this way…”

  Ada found herself on her feet again. The smell of the men still lingered, and she was feeling a little weak.

  “You can’t have had breakfast. Won’t you have some with us?” She led the way to the breakfast room. “Sanders, please send something up.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Sanders strode away. Ada entered the breakfast room and seated herself with relief at the long table. Early morning light blazed in. She reached automatically for the silver tray of post and the ivory-handled letter opener that had been placed with fresh flowers on the table. As Laurence went on talking angrily about the creditors, Ada sorted through the post, glad of something simple and mindless to occupy her while she recovered her poise. As usual, most was for the countess and Charlotte—but today there was one for her, addressed in a hand that even in her distracted state she recognized as familiar. She took the letter opener and slit the envelope open as Sanders laid the sideboard and Laurence’s angry voice broke around her. The first line turned her to stone.

  My dearest Ada,

  She could not believe that she hadn’t seen it at once—it could only have been her distraction that stopped her from recognizing instantly that the letter was from Ravi.

  I wonder with what feelings you will read this. I hope they have not changed. I still think of you as I ever did, only with more pain. Business will bring me to London this summer. It is a rush and I will find it difficult to get away. But I hoped we could meet. I won’t compromise you by asking you to reply to this. On the 21st August at noon I will be underneath the great clock at Paddington Station, where we parted from each other. If you can, be there too. If you cannot, I will understand. I will never forget you, but I will understand.

  Yours forever,

  Ravi

  She clasped the letter opener in one hand, the letter in the other. She sensed that the color had fled from her face. It was as if she had opened up her heart with the small silver blade, and inadvertently ripped open a wound that had been sewn closed just a few months before. And now she realized that the pain had never gone away. She had just got used to it, that was all. The wound was very, very far from healed.

  “Ada?” Laurence was leaning forward, looking anxiously into her face. “Are you well? You’ve turned so pale.”

  “I’m quite well,” she murmured, “quite well.”

  “You are in shock, you must be. Let me fetch you some water.”

  He leapt up and went to the sideboard. Ada folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope.

  Laurence returned with the water. Ada sipped it gratefully. He was looking at her with concern, not at the letter. That was all she needed.

  “Thank you. You’re so good to me.” She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

  “My dear, you’ve been so strong.” His voice was gentle. “But you must let me take over now. This situation cannot go unremedied.”

  She nodded. “Laurence, do you think you could…” She hesitated. “I would like to lie down.”

  “Of course. An excellent idea.”

  Ada got to her feet. She could hardly just leave the letter sitting there, but she didn’t want to draw attention by picking it up. Luckily Laurence turned away to ring the bell, and she was able to collect the letter and hide it in her hand. She moved to the door. Now she was back at Somerton in her mind, six months ago, at her father’s wedding, clasping a note in her hand, feeling it beat within her grip as if it were her very heart.

  Laurence held Ada back just before she went through the door. He bent his head to hers and pressed a kiss onto her lips. She received it like a marble statue.

  “Rest, dear. I will take care of everything,” he murmured.

  “Thank you so much,” Ada murmured, mechanically. Slowly, like a woman just awoken from a dream, she walked upstairs.

  Céline met her on the landing. “My lady,” she whispered.

  “Oh Céline, not now!” Ada made to walk past her, but to her shock Céline caught her wrist.

  “My lady, I must speak to you!” For the first time Ada heard the panic in her voice. She turned a questioning look on her. Céline was pale, and her eyes were red as if she had been crying.

  “Lady Rose did not come back last night,” she whispered.

  Ada gazed at her, uncertain that she had heard correctly.

  “What do you mean? Lady Rose went to bed early with a headache.”

  Céline shook her head silently. Ada opened her mouth to protest. But Céline’s expression told her everything she needed to know.

  Without another word she turned and walked along the hall to Rose’s room. She tapped on the door. Céline was close behind her. When there was no answer, she pushed the door open and looked in. At a glance she could see that the bed had not been slept in.

  Ada closed the door silently. She turned to Céline, who looked terrified, and beckoned her away into an alcove. She glanced left and right to make sure no servants were passing.

  “Tell me everything,” she whispered. Her anger and her fear were equally balanced.

  “I—the Duke of Huntleigh came to see her. She went away with him.”

  “What!” Ada took a few desperate steps up and down. If this were known, Rose’s reputation would be shattered like glass. “No, that’s impossible. Lady Rose would never be so…so lost to all sense of propriety.” And yet the note in her hand burned like a brand, as if it were saying, You thought that of yourself, didn’t you?

  “I am sure she’s done no wrong, my lady.”

  “Why on earth did you not stop her? Forbid her?” Ada was talking nonsense and she knew it, but she had to lash out at someone. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “I thought—I just thought—”

  “You thought Rose could marry a duke and you would become lady’s maid to a duchess. Well, because of your foolish scheming, you may well be lady’s maid to a fallen woman!”

  Céline gave a strangled sob, and her hands flew to her mouth.

  Ada knew at once that she had gone too far. “Céline, forgive me. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just so worried.…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “How long have we before the Royal Horticultural Society show?”

  “The cars are ordered for twelve, my lady.”

  “Very well. We must say that Lady Rose has catarrh, that she isn’t feeling well, that you will bring everything necessary up to her, but she is not to be disturbed. That will work. Well?”

  Céline nodded silently.

  “Good.” Ada took a deep breath. Perhaps she could still save Rose’s reputation—if they were lucky.

  “So Rose is still unwell,” Charlotte said as she and Ada walked down the green paths in the gardens of the Chelsea Hospital, scents of summery flowers drifting toward them. “I can’t say I’m sorry. It’s so embarrassing having to cover up her faux pas.”

  Ada said nothing. Laurence’s hand was on her arm, protective and controlling. She wanted to leap to Rose’s defense—but she was uncomfortably aware that at this very moment Rose was committing the worst of faux pas, one so unthinkable that not even Charlotte would think to accuse her of it. One did not spend the night in the company of a man. Not even Ada had bee
n guilty of that. She still could not understand what had possessed Rose.

  She looked away from Charlotte’s curious gaze, trying to distract herself by watching the crowd. Stately men in morning coats, their top hats gleaming like well-brushed horses, their watch chains glinting and buttons shining, strolled among the orchids and rhododendrons, accompanied by their wives, their figures still showing the influence of the Edwardian S-bend. The younger, elegant debutantes were pretty in their looser, freer summer dresses, and the young men up from Oxford or Cambridge who sauntered past were the picture of debonair, carefree summer. Ada felt detached from all of it. Ravi’s words kept running through her head. She was afraid that she would forget herself and blurt them out loud.

  “The show looks quite marvelous.” The countess waved her program like a fan, her furled parasol picking out the way before her. “I’m very pleased, the hothouses at Somerton need restocking.”

  “It’s a delightful new venue,” Lord Westlake said, looking around appreciatively. “A stroke of genius to hold it here. The grounds of the Chelsea Hospital are admirably suited.”

  “I quite agree, my dear. It’s a charming way to end the season.”

  Ada caught the note of affection between Lord Westlake and the countess. That at least was a relief, she thought. The gulf that Rose’s adoption had created between them seemed to be healing. Perhaps the countess was finally getting used to the situation.

  “I must see the Japanese dwarf trees,” the countess exclaimed, surging forward into the crowds. “Come, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte followed her. Laurence hesitated, then placed a hand on Lord Westlake’s arm. He drew them into the shadow of a grapevine.

  “Sir, there has been an unpleasant incident,” he said under his breath.

  Ada started, for a second imagining he had somehow found out about Ravi. But the searching glance he gave her was not because of that.

  “Ada is behaving very bravely, but you must know that this morning three duns came to the house, after Sir William’s debts, and they upset her very much.”