‘But I don’t live alone. You’ve met Lawson and Nurse and there’s Nancy, my maid, and … ‘ She appeared to lose interest, her right hand delicately exploring the various dishes in front of her, ‘… and so on. Your presence seems to have put Mrs Thorne on her mettle. Is there a bowl of fruit anywhere amongst all this?’
The Marquis placed it within her reach. ‘That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.’ He watched, fascinated, as the graceful hands selected an apple and began skilfully to pare it. ‘I was referring to the absence of a gentleman to protect and a lady to chaperone you.’
‘I have no need of either. I rarely go beyond the grounds and, within them, Lawson heads a team of protection that would probably astound you. And since the only man who calls here is the rector, a chaperone would find life very dull.’ She laid a coil of peel on her plate and began to slice the fruit into quarters. ‘I live very quietly, you know.’
‘I think I’m beginning to,’ said his lordship, a green spark lighting his eyes. ‘Are you telling me you have no family?’
‘Only my brother,’ she replied, puzzled and little wary. ‘You seem a trifle put out, sir.’
‘I believe I am,’ he said slowly. ‘Or at least, I anticipate the sensation.’
A shuttered look came into the beautiful face and she came abruptly to her feet.
‘I see. I imagine I can guess why.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Amberley, lazily watchful.
‘You’re about to start feeling sorry for me,’ she challenged, half scornful, half disappointed.
‘Hardly. Why should I?’
‘Because I’m blind.’ It was out before she realised it.
‘So?’ His tone was flippant but his eyes showed the cost of it. ‘It would take more than that, my dear. And I can’t conceive what possible use sympathy would be to you – or why you should expect it.’
‘I don’t expect it!’ she snapped. ‘No – nor want it, either. But aside from embarrassment, it’s the only genuine emotion I ever seem able to inspire.’
Lithe as a cat, he was out of his seat and at her side, laughing.
‘Not so, Mistress Vernon – not so! I know at least one other.’ And then, one hand round her waist and the other beneath her chin, he dropped a brief kiss on her parted lips.
‘Oh!’ Blushing hotly, Rosalind thrust him away. ‘You – you – ‘
‘Brass-faced gypsy?’ obliged the Marquis, cheerfully. ‘Now you can go and tell Nurse how right she was. But just one thing before you do. You can call me a hypocrite if you choose or accuse me of taking unfair advantage – but what you may not do is to assume that I regard you as an object of pity because you can’t see. If I feel any sympathy for you at all – and as yet I’m not sure that I do – it’s because you appear to be living the life of an elderly invalid.’ He paused and then added casually, ‘It seems to me to be a waste. But for all I know, you may be a recluse by choice … or perhaps just a coward.’
Words of blistering denial hovered on Rosalind’s tongue and the Marquis waited hopefully. Then an arrested expression crept into her eyes; she hesitated, tilting her head consideringly and finally, incredibly, the dimple quivered into being.
‘Do you find quarrelling quicker than question and answer? Or are you merely possessed of a tortuous – not to say unscrupulous – mind?’
‘Neither.’ He was surprised but he hid it.
‘But you were hoping for an orgy of self-justification?’
‘Something like that, perhaps. Am I doomed to disappointment?’
‘You certainly deserve to be – and worse.’
He gave a rueful laugh. ‘I know – and beg your pardon. But the truth is that I thought I had a point to make.’
One dark brow lifted in sardonic amusement. ‘And one that words couldn’t make for you?’
Already uneasily aware that, save for her own good sense, his careless impulse might have done very real harm, Amberley hesitated before saying truthfully, ‘They might have done so – but I’ve an uncommonly low resistance to temptation.’
Irony vanished and a rippling laugh issued from the slender throat.
‘You, sir, are quite shameless.’
‘I fear so. But not, I hope, unforgiveable? You have my word that it won’t happen again.’
And despite the now familiar note of levity, Rosalind knew instinctively that this, at least, he meant. She held out her hand, felt him take it in a cool, friendly clasp and, with a smile, said simply, ‘You have no need to promise. I know it won’t.’
Behind his silver-brocaded vest, a number of strange sensations took place and, without realising it, his lordship’s fingers tightened on hers. Then, pulling himself together, he laid her hand on his arm and said lightly, ‘I hope you don’t intend to leave me here in solitary state with the port?’
She shook her head. ‘To tell the truth, I’d quite forgotten that I should. And besides – you asked for a chaperone and I am determined that you shall have one.’
‘Oh?’ He smiled down into the exquisite face as they moved out into the hall and back towards her parlour. ‘And who is it to be?’
Again that wicked laugh. ‘Wait and see.’
One glance was sufficient to inform the Marquis that the room was empty but Mistress Vernon was plainly waiting for him so he closed the door and allowed himself to be led over to the gilt cage.
‘My lord Marquis – pray allow me to present my most jealous guardian,’ she said demurely. ‘His name is Broody.’
My lord Marquis examined the surly-looking parrot with interest. ‘How very appropriate,’ he remarked gently. And then, to the bird, ‘How do you do, sir?’
Broody eyed him with marked disfavour and sat on one foot.
‘I don’t think he likes me,’ observed Amberley.
‘That’s nothing new. I’d be amazed if he did.’
‘I thank you.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t be absurd. What I meant was that he doesn’t like anyone – except possibly me. Thomas and Claude won’t touch his cage if he is in it because he bites them and when the maids come into this room to clean it, he swears at them.’
The Marquis uttered a little choking sound. ‘Does he indeed? And who taught him to do that?’
‘If you mean was it me – the answer is no. My brother bought him from a sailor and was sadly confounded when he heard the extent of his vocabulary. Indeed, he was only persuaded to let me keep him on the strength of my solemn promise never to use any of the words myself. Not that I could, of course, because I don’t understand half of them.’ And on this faintly regretful note, she turned back to the cage. ‘Come, Broody – say hello to our guest.’
Broody stared unwinkingly back at the Marquis, apparently reviewing his repertoire. Then, in accents of pure disgust, he said, ‘Scabby pirate!’ before turning a disdainful back on his mistress’s improper laughter.
‘Well, that disposes of me, doesn’t it?’ grinned Amberley. ‘But I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t worse.’
‘Very grateful.’ Rosalind sank weakly on to a sofa. ‘You should hear some of the things he calls Philip.’
His lordship seated himself opposite her. ‘Philip is your brother?’
She nodded.
‘Then, since he’s responsible for endowing you with that ill-mannered bird, I haven’t any sympathy for him. Mr Vernon is well-served.’
‘You are out, sir,’ she told him, lifting her chin with would-be haughtiness. ‘My brother is not Mr Vernon. He’s Captain Lord Philip – late of His Majesty’s army.’
Amberley accepted the rebuke stoically.
‘I beg his lordship’s pardon. I take it that by ‘late’ you mean he’s recently sold out?’
‘Yes. He was forced to do so when my uncle died last year.’
‘Your uncle? Not your father?’
‘No. Papa died when we were children. And Mama had not the least idea of how to manage without him so her brother became a sort of trustee until Philip came
of age. Only by then Phil was army-mad – so of course Uncle George had to let him enlist while he himself continued to look after our affairs.’ The expressive face clouded. ‘He was very good to us. I miss him.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Amberley lightly. ‘But now your brother has quit the army to assume his responsibilities, he’ll doubtless spend a good deal of time here with you, won’t he?’
‘Perhaps,’ she agreed dubiously. ‘He’ll certainly do so during the summer months but he may prefer to winter at the London house.’
‘Is that where he is now?’
‘Yes. He’s enjoying his first real taste of society and furthering his acquaintance with Mistress Dacre.’
The grey-green eyes flew suddenly wide. ‘Mistress Dacre? Viscount Linton’s daughter?’
‘Why, yes. Do you know her?’
‘Not at all.’ His lordship’s voice held a strangely desperate note. ‘Your brother is not, by any chance, the gentleman betrothed to Mistress Dacre, is he?’
‘Yes. How did you know?’ she asked, baffled. And then, brightening, ‘Oh. Can it be that you’ve met Philip?’
‘Oh Lord!’ gasped the Marquis, dropping his head into his hands. ‘I am afraid … I’m very much afraid that I have. Unfortunately.’
And he dissolved into helpless, sobbing laughter.
~ * * * ~
FOUR
Rosalind awoke to a sense of drowsy well-being, so pleasant that it seemed unnecessary to locate its source. For a few minutes, she lay relaxed in that limbo between sleeping and waking, savouring the moment’s nameless content. Then it shifted, gradually becoming a sharp-edged tingling awareness so that she sat up, suddenly alert, as she recognised its cause.
Excitement rippled through her veins and set the nerves vibrating beneath her skin, producing a tiny shiver of mingled fear and delight. A part of her that had not stirred for a very long time stretched its cramped muscles and began to wake, luring her from the safe harbour of her cultivated, hard-won tranquillity and setting her adrift in the alien, almost forgotten seas of hope and doubt. Painfully, like one rousing from a prolonged state of catalepsy, she investigated each new sensation and greeted it with apprehensive pleasure until she found again the things so long mislaid; the bitter-sweet joys of youth and anticipation.
A bubble of happiness welled up and she clasped her arms around her knees as if to hug it close. Against all expectation, she had found a sort of kindred spirit; someone whose mind ran with hers in laughter and companionship and who, effortlessly as breathing, had reminded her that, if she wished him to forget her blindness, she must first forget it herself.
It was strange. For twelve years she had been surrounded with a wall of protective consideration that never alluded to her handicap. She’d been loved, cherished and guarded with well-intentioned sympathy, shielded from every unkind wind and word; yet, despite all the devotion lavished upon her, she suddenly realised that she had never before felt that anyone truly understood. Never, that is, until last night.
Unable to be still any longer, she reached out an impatient hand for the small silver clock that stood beside her bed. Flicking open the glass, her fingers told her that it was twenty minutes after seven; still early then, but not as early as the midnight-like quiet had led her to suppose. Charged with compulsive energy, Rosalind slid out of bed, dragged a taffeta robe over her night-gown and pulled the bell for her maid.
Nancy found her mistress eager to dress, determined to breakfast downstairs and in a mood that was by turn fussy and distrait. All three were unusual but Nancy was not surprised by any of them. She had caught only a fleeting glimpse of the Marquis – but it was her opinion that, if his ways only half-matched his looks, no girl could be blamed for losing her head a little. It was just a pity, Nancy had confided to Mrs Reed, that Miss Rose couldn’t see him for herself. ‘And him so fine in black velvet all silver-laced, with his hair shining like the best gilt plate. And what’s more, that one’s a proper man – not one of your dandified fops. He’s handsome and elegant alright, but I reckon there’s some muscle underneath that – ‘ At which point Mrs Reed had boxed her ears.
Had Nancy but known it, Rosalind had not yet spared a single thought for his lordship’s attractions or the lack of them – had not even wondered what he looked like. There seemed no need. She knew the timbre of his voice and the light, cool clasp of his fingers on hers; and that, oddly, was enough.
‘Nancy – is it still snowing?’ she asked urgently.
Nancy grinned. ‘Yes, Miss Rose. Has been all night by the look of it. And it’s drifted too. You can’t hardly see the front steps.’
Rosalind drew a long breath, tried hard not to feel quite so pleased and failed. A faint flush stained her cheeks and her eyes held a curious gleam. Nancy surveyed her benevolently. Blind or not, it was only right and proper than anyone as pretty and sweet-natured as her mistress should have a beau.
In fact, far from planning to enslave the Marquis, Rosalind was busily hatching dark schemes to make him explain exactly what had been so hilarious about his meeting with her brother. Naturally, she had asked him last night – when he finally stopped laughing long enough for her to make herself heard – but he had steadfastly refused to tell her. Breathless and still hiccupping faintly, he had simply said that he doubted if she would appreciate the jest. And when she threatened to ask Philip himself, his lordship had dissolved afresh and managed to indicate that he doubted Lord Philip would appreciate it either. It was all extremely provoking and Rosalind was determined to get to the bottom of it.
She sat down on the end of the bed and curled her feet up beneath her.
‘What shall I wear today, Nancy?’
The maid threw open the clothes-press and began to enumerate its contents.
‘There’s the yellow cambric.’
‘No. I wore amber last night and it’s too similar. What else?’
‘The pink dimity?’
‘No. I always suspect that it makes me look like a milk-maid.’
Nancy laughed. ‘Well, what about the embroidered muslin?’
Rosalind thought for a moment, then shook her head regretfully. ‘It’s too thin. I’ll freeze to death.’
The maid chewed one finger-nail and looked frowningly along the rack. Then her face brightened and she pounced.
‘That’s the one! You’ve never worn it and it would be a terrible shame to waste it on the rector.’ And to herself she added, ‘And if you don’t knock his lordship’s eyes out in this, he ain’t the man I take him for!’
*
While Rosalind thought she was making an early start, the Marquis had made an even earlier one. Roused by a reluctant Saunders at four in the morning, he had dozed fitfully in a chair at Chard’s bedside until just before six when the wounded man had woken in a state of high fever. For the next hour, his lordship was kept very busy indeed … but since, like any other healthy young man, he knew very little of illness and what to expect, he soon became rather harassed. With some difficulty he managed to tip a measure of the doctor’s potion down Chard’s throat but when even this failed to make any noticeable improvement, he felt somewhat at a loss and knew a craven desire to admit defeat and call his valet. Fortunately, at that moment, the door opened and Mrs Reed walked in.
‘Oh thank God!’ said the Marquis devoutly. ‘He’s become acutely feverish and I don’t know what the devil to do to relieve him.’
‘Well, sir, you can begin by moderating your language,’ replied Nurse tartly, in much the tone of one addressing a nine-year-old. ‘And what you’re doing here when you should be in your bed, I just don’t know. Gentlemen don’t belong in a sick-room at any time and as for you trying to nurse your coachman – well, it’s neither right nor proper and so I tell you!’
Laughter stirred remotely in the grey-green eyes.
‘Chard has been in my service for a long time,’ he explained meekly. ‘And I thought it only fair to let my valet rest for a few hours.’
�
��That’s all very well, sir. But what you should have done was to have him call me.’
It was with a good deal of difficulty that Lord Amberley refrained from replying that he wasn’t that brass-faced, Instead, he gave his singularly charming smile and said, ‘Well, I own that I would like to have done so – and that it would undoubtedly have been better for poor Chard. But having put you all to so much trouble already, I was loath to inconvenience you further.’
Mrs Reed thawed a little. ‘As to that, my lord, it’s no trouble at all. And far better to have called me than to come yourself – and you with no more idea of what to do than Miss Rosalind’s parrot.’
The Marquis noted with due appreciation that he had finally been accorded his rank and filed the rest for future use. ‘Very true. And I willingly admit that I was never more glad to see anyone in my life.’
She cast an expert eye over the restless coachman and nodded decisively.
‘Well, now you can go away and leave him to me, my lord. This is no more than I expected and I know just what will quiet him so there’s no call for you to worry. And I don’t need you – indeed, you’ll be no more use than ornament, if you’ll pardon me saying so. Besides,’ she finished, eyeing him critically, ‘you’ll be wanting to shave, I’ll be bound.’
A shave was indeed Lord Amberley’s most pressing requirement and, after that, a change of clothes, his sojourn at Chard’s bedside having left him feeling distinctly crumpled. He accomplished both in record time, once again without the aid of his valet, and then went briskly downstairs to discover what chance there was of travelling at least as far as the inn.
One glance through the window was sufficient to dissuade him from opening the door and going out. The wind was driving the snow hard against the house and the drift was already some four feet deep. The Marquis cursed softly and turned round to meet Lawson’s impassive regard.
‘Have you any idea how bad conditions are likely to be on the road?’ he asked.
The butler bowed. ‘My lord, I sent a groom out an hour ago to investigate and he is of the opinion that no coach could travel as much as half a mile in safety. And the road to Hadham Cross is almost certainly impassable.’
Parfit Knight Page 5
