Louisa Elliott

by Ann Victoria Roberts

  ‘Jaysus,’ Molloy muttered as he helped Letty to alight in the cobbled Castle yard, ‘what have they got to cheer about?’

  It seemed they were all somewhat deflated by that delighted, laughing crowd.

  Despite being described as a Grand Ball, despite the long lines of liveried footmen in silver and light blue, despite the introduction to Lord and Lady Cadogan, Viceroy and Vicereine of Ireland, the evening was a thrash, as Robert described it, of over seven hundred guests.

  Priceless diamonds winked and glittered like Christmas decorations; waltz music played endlessly to a heedless throng; voices brayed, every accent Ireland and England could produce shouted to be heard. Cerise and pink and orange clashed with forty shades of emerald green, while champagne was quaffed like porter, and drunken fathers let daughters get away with murder in the last-minute race for a husband.

  Her plunging neckline forgotten in that welter of mixed tastes, Louisa danced and supped and talked with the best. The Loys joined them, and it was while they were all grouped together round their small and much-envied table that she noticed an amused smile suddenly freeze on Robert’s face. He rose to his feet and, with stiff, unsmiling formality, bowed to an elderly couple who seemed anxious not to acknowledge him.

  Interrupting glances of embarrassment and theatrical dismay from Letty and Gerald, Louisa asked who they were, but neither seemed disposed to answer.

  ‘No one of any consequence,’ Robert said, taking her arm. ‘Come on, darling, this is our dance, I believe.’

  As he guided her through the crush to the floor, his eyes followed that pair of neatly-coiffed grey heads. The woman, Louisa noticed, was wearing a set of diamonds which put Lady Cadogan in the shade, and a fashionable gown of cerise and fuchsia satin which killed her complexion. Those hard, proud eyes, meeting Robert’s as they brushed past, looked abruptly away.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked, as he led her into the waltz.

  ‘Relatives of mine,’ he answered tersely, ‘by marriage.’

  ‘Anne’s?’

  ‘No, Charlotte’s.’

  Swallowing an exclamation, Louisa danced on automatically, but her heart was pounding in consternation. ‘Did you want them to see us together?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I wanted them to know I’ve survived.’

  ‘But do they know about Charlotte?’ she asked above the surge of the music.

  ‘Of course they do,’ he replied, swinging into the turn. ‘Whatever they want to know, they’re rich enough to find out.’

  Still a little shocked by that encounter, on the way back to their table after the waltz they bumped into Prince Francis fighting his way onto the floor with a pretty, flirtatious young thing in sugar-pink lace. He laughed as he saw Robert and made some comment about the impossible crowd; as his eyes flickered over Louisa’s generous form, Robert begged leave to introduce her. It was graciously granted, but as she dropped a low curtsey, Louisa recalled her plunging neckline, blushing furiously as she regained her full height and saw the merry, appreciative twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Oh, this damned dress,’ she muttered querulously under her breath; but, with the departure of the young couple, Robert was quietly laughing.

  ‘Well, darling, that’s one up to you – not everybody gets an introduction to the chief guest of honour!’

  Letty was impressed, and Amelia Loy openly envious. Reminding Robert of the dance he had promised, she also begged him to engineer an introduction. Although Robert winked as he went off with her, Louisa was quite irrationally jealous. For Robert’s sake she wished she could like his cousin’s wife, but it was impossible. She was such a disconcerting mix of tomboy, flirt and daunting duchess that Louisa was never quite sure of her intentions, nor how to react; but as Letty quietly pointed out, with her estates and huge inheritance expected shortly, Amelia Loy could be as haughty and capricious as she chose.

  With his fine features and limited assets, Louisa wondered whether Gerald had married from love or a strong sense of self-preservation. In some kind of export business, Robert’s cousin had the family’s taste for country pursuits and good living, without, apparently, the necessary means to indulge it. But despite the rather limited common ground of immediate family, Gerald had always been pleasantly attentive towards her, and Louisa quite liked him. He reminded her of Edward with his fair colouring and grey eyes, and, without any real ground for support, she attributed to him the same gentle manners. This evening, however, he had imbibed rather more than was conducive to either good manners or polite conversation, and she thought those perpetually amused grey eyes had a tendency to leer. With the departure of Letty with Tommy Fitzsimmons, his anecdotes became uncomfortably risqué.

  Dismayed by an increasingly lurid commentary on several eminent guests, Louisa searched anxiously for signs of rescue. It seemed Robert was gone an inordinate length of time; at least three dances had passed since his departure with Gerald’s wife. Suddenly she spotted Letty and Tommy, both towering over the crowd and coming their way.

  ‘Oh, good,’ Gerald exclaimed, pulling Louisa to her feet, ‘They’re coming to mind the table for a while. Come on, my beauty – let’s take our turn while we have the chance.’

  Swallowed by the mass of dancers, Louisa could hardly protest before he whisked her away in a grip more enthusiastic than polite. Holding her firm, and far too close, Gerald pressed his cheek to hers and steered her expertly through the crush. Given a clear floor he must have been an excellent dancer, but breast to breast and thigh to thigh, Louisa was too disturbed to follow well. She stepped twice on his toes, then half-stumbled. Without a falter he lifted her bodily into the turn, surprising her by his strength.

  At the end of the piece, before the orchestra could strike up again, Louisa pleaded heat and fatigue, and suggested a return to their table. Gerald smiled, grabbed two glasses from the tray of a passing footman, and proceeded through the nearest double doors into a carpeted but ill-lit corridor. Thankfully, Louisa noticed many people had taken a similar opportunity for a quieter respite from the noise.

  Somewhat guardedly, she accepted the glass of champagne, and tried not to shiver. For a few minutes they walked up and down, Louisa keeping a decent distance between them; but as she turned, with the tactful suggestion of another dance on her lips, Gerald grabbed her and, pulling her into a darkened alcove, pressed his mouth avidly to hers. Even as she pushed and protested, his fingers were at her breast.

  ‘I’d like to strip you naked,’ he whispered hotly against her ear, while one arm held her like a vice, and a growing hardness pressed into her groin. ‘I’d like to take you to bed and — ‘

  ‘Damn you!’ she hissed, digging nails into his neck and stamping hard with her heel on the arch of his foot. ‘Don’t be so disgusting!’ Free as the strains of music ceased, she hurried along the corridor, through a sudden surge of laughing, breathless escapees from the dance-floor, past serried lines of bored and yawning footmen, and to the ladies’ rooms.

  Sick and faint for a moment, she had to sit down and borrow a fan: her own was lost back there with Gerald Loy. An attendant brought a glass of water and smelling-salts; one whiff of the concentrated ammonia and she was herself again, blazing with rage that a so-called gentleman could treat her like a common whore and expect to get away with it.

  Robert’s cousin, she thought, amazed at the depths of male depravity, and knowing in the next moment that she could never tell what had happened, no matter how much she wanted to repay the insult. Pushed and jostled by a constant stream of ladies, Louisa went into the corridor, where the air was cooler. After a few minutes she felt better, capable of going back to face the throng.

  Poised on the threshold of the ballroom, looking for familiar faces and ready to pin on a smile, Louisa was suddenly aware of someone at her elbow. It was Dr Molloy, dapper and unfamiliar in his crisp evening clothes, and smoking a cigar.

  ‘Are you all right? You looked rather white a
s you hurried past a moment ago.’ Through curls of blue smoke he looked keenly sideways. ‘Try not to overtire yourself,’ he advised. A moment later, he murmured: ‘Have you told the Captain yet?’

  ‘No,’ she whispered, feeling foolish. ‘There really hasn’t been a good opportunity.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’re the best judge of that,’ he acknowledged, with a frown, ‘but I don’t think you should leave it too much longer.’

  There was an element of reproof in his tone which, coming after the incident with Gerald Loy, was ridiculously hurtful. Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and as she turned away, the young doctor took her arm.

  ‘Come on, now, sit down here behind this lovely potted palm, and we can pretend to be hatching conspiracies to overthrow all this nonsense. Would you like a mineral water — no? Well then, perhaps you should tell me what’s wrong. Secrets of the confessional, and all that,’ he joked, but under pretence of holding her hand, he was counting her pulse. Frowning, he said: ‘You’re overdoing things. It’s time you were home and in bed.’

  ‘No, I’m all right. I was all right,’ she amended, ‘until a few minutes ago. Someone insulted me, I’m afraid, and it – well, it upset me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t ask. A man. Anyway,’ she sniffed, ‘it was my own fault really, wearing this ridiculous gown. I’ve put on weight, you see.’

  ‘One does,’ he said dryly, ‘it’s one of the features of the case.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said seriously, ‘I know, but I didn’t think about it when I ordered the dress.’

  ‘You’ll have a lot of adjustments to make – and not just to your clothes.’

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. Without looking at her companion, in fact as though speaking to herself, Louisa said bleakly: ‘You know, I’m really quite glad about it. At least all this will be over. I won’t have to smile and put on a face and pretend I’m enjoying myself.’

  ‘Do you hate it so much?’ he asked, and then, answering his own question, said: ‘Yes, I imagine you do. You weren’t brought up to it, I understand?’

  ‘No. We lived very quietly at home. I miss that.’

  ‘I should think Miss Duncannon will be glad of a break, too,’ he commented dryly. Seeing Robert striding towards them, looking this way and that, the young doctor touched her arm. ‘He’s looking for you, but don’t smile too brightly. I’ll tell him you’re faint with the heat, and maybe he’ll take you home.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Robert said regretfully a moment later. ‘I thought you were having such a good time. Look,’ he hesitated, ‘will you be all right for just a few more minutes? I have a dance promised, you see… ‘

  ‘Speaking as a doctor,’ Molloy said firmly, ‘I really do think, Captain, that you should take Miss Elliott home now. I shall see Miss Duncannon gets back safely.’

  For a moment, faintly nettled, Robert was disposed to argue; then he glanced at Louisa, and saw that she did indeed look very tired, although it was scarcely past one o’clock and the ball would go on for hours yet.

  ‘Will you wait,’ he asked Molloy, ‘while I organise the carriage?’

  The doctor nodded, and Louisa looked so relieved he began to think there might be something seriously wrong. ‘I’ll fetch your cloak,’ he said gently, pressing her hand. ‘I have the ticket.’

  An attendant went to look for their driver, while Robert hoped he was not too well refreshed, and returned anxiously to Louisa. Wrapping the cloak around her, he thanked Molloy for his attention and bade him goodnight. It struck him that there was a most odd expression in the stocky Irishman’s eyes as he returned the civility.

  So intent was he on that particular puzzle, he said nothing while they were waiting for the carriage. He glanced down at Louisa, thinking that if there was anything at all the matter with her, he would have Molloy’s hide for not telling him so.

  She asked if he was angry.

  ‘Angry?’ he repeated. ‘No, of course not.’ He forced a smile. ‘Why should you think so?’

  In the carriage, he drew her close within the crook of his arm. ‘We’ll soon have you home safe and to bed,’ he whispered, ‘and you can sleep till noon if you wish.’ She said nothing, but rested her head against his chest. Touched by the gesture, a moment later, as casually as he was able, he said: ‘I thought Molloy seemed overly concerned about you, darling – there’s nothing wrong, is there? You seem not to have been yourself for a while now. You’re not ill, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m not ill,’ she said in a small, queer voice. ‘I’m having a baby.’

  ‘What?’ he asked stupidly, not believing, understanding only the half. ‘What did you say? Did you say — did you say you were having a baby?’

  It was not something Robert had seriously considered. Finding himself ridiculously pleased and also vaguely alarmed at the prospect, during the next few days he still had moments of utter disbelief which sent him hurrying to Louisa’s side for further confirmation.

  ‘Anyone would think you’d never been a father before,’ she said one time, laughing, and he ran fingers through his hair like one bemused, which he was.

  ‘This may sound idiotic,’ he admitted, suddenly bashful, ‘but that is exactly how I do feel…

  ‘You see,’ he went on after some thought, ‘I never had this experience before. Charlotte was so strange, I don’t think she knew she was pregnant. I was the one who noticed, eventually, and by that time she must have been about five months gone. I couldn’t believe it — didn’t want to believe it — but it was true. Then I called a doctor in, and he confirmed it, of course.’

  Sighing, he said: ‘I felt — trapped – there’s no other word for it. I didn’t want a child, and by that time, having discovered something of Charlotte’s illness, I didn’t want her either. Nor was I in any position at that time to care for either of them. The regiment was on the move, I never knew where I was going to be from one day to another. It was hellish.’

  Understanding something of those emotions, Louisa nodded. Despite Robert’s enthusiasm, she still felt trapped. But all she said was: ‘Poor Georgina,’ and sighed.

  ‘Yes, quite. But she wasn’t Georgina then — she was no more than an idea, an idea I dreaded like nothing I’d dreaded before. I didn’t even think of her as my child, if you can understand that. It was something growing inside Charlotte – a monster, for all I knew — nothing to do with me. Which probably explains why I wanted nothing to do with her as a baby. She must have been about two years old,’ he added wonderingly, ‘before I realized she was a lovely, pretty, charming little girl.’

  ‘Do you still worry about her? Being like Charlotte, I mean?’

  Robert nodded, knowing it was a fear he would probably never lose. ‘But Letty decided – and I agreed — that she should not be wrapped in cotton wool, as her mother appears to have been. We wanted her to have something of the rough-and-tumble we enjoyed as children at White Leigh, which was one of the reasons for staying on there. She had Harry as a companion, and the estate children to play with. But then — oh, I don’t know – perhaps the pressures of White Leigh outweighed even those advantages.

  ‘Anyway,’ he added, smiling and squeezing her hand, ‘Georgie will soon have a little brother of her own to play with.’

  ‘Or sister,’ Louisa reminded him, laughing.

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ he insisted with mock seriousness, ‘this time I want a son.’

  Nine

  He had his way. On a fine morning in early October, just as dawn was breaking, Robert’s son fought his way into the world. Hearing that protracted wail of protest, Robert ceased his caged, desperate pacing; he listened hard, but there was no sound from Louisa, whose smothered moans had tormented him half the night, and whose final, agonized yell of pain had stricken him like a physical wound. Swallowing hard, he made for the door, paused to gird himself against the news that she was dead, and finally went along the landing to her room.

  Before he could knock, th
e door was opened. Molloy was standing there, a broad grin on his unshaven Irish face, and behind him, pale and dishevelled but very much alive, Louisa was smiling from the bed.

  The doctor put up his hand, halting that automatic step forward. ‘It’s a boy – and they’re both just fine – but hold on, will you, while we have a little tidy up. Five minutes or so – yes?’

  Unable to contain himself, he went along to his sister’s door, and rapped urgently: within seconds Letty opened it, robe flapping, hair awry, and a cigarette burning between her fingers.

  ‘She’s all right!’ he whispered, hugging her, and in answer to her thrice-repeated question: ‘It’s a boy!’

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ Letty exclaimed, sagging like jelly in his arms. ‘What a night! Have you seen her yet?’

  ‘Just a glimpse — five minutes, Molloy said.’

  It was a long five minutes. ‘Bloody Irishman,’ Robert complained, lighting one of Letty’s cigarettes and pulling a face. ‘God, these are awful, Letty — how do you smoke them?’

  ‘Quite easily, dear boy, especially at times like this.’

  There were footsteps on the landing; Robert stubbed out the cigarette and went to the door; a uniformed nurse beckoned him with a smile.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Molloy said, drying his hands, ‘she’s very tired.’

  Robert grinned. ‘Does that mean half an hour?’

  ‘It most certainly does not,’ came the serious reply, but Robert was lost in the delight of Louisa’s smile. He saw the pride of achievement, and in her eyes the soft glow of love; she looked tired and happy and quite, quite different, Robert thought. Transfixed by the change, he kissed her tenderly, hesitantly, and, with her hand in his, perched on the very edge of the bed. Beside her, almost hidden by blankets, nestled a tiny cocooned bundle with smooth pink cheeks and a puckered little mouth.

  Amazed, fascinated, awe-struck, for a moment Robert was quite at a loss. Louisa moved the shawl back and released one miniature fist. It moved jerkily, then opened like a starfish; she touched the palm and it closed round her finger, displaying perfect pink nails with white tips.