by Stella Riley
‘He will.’
‘Since by your own admission you and he don’t communicate, you can’t possibly know that.’
‘I can and do.’ Northcote took a sip of his wine. ‘I can also see that you might be tempted to accept. It would be better, however, if you did not.’
‘Better for whom?’
‘Everyone. It is not my intention to insult you, Mistress Neville … but our family is an old and distinguished one. I would therefore prefer my brother to look a little higher than a tradesman’s widow – even one as attractive and well-provided-for as yourself.’
‘What would you know of my financial circumstances?’ snapped Lydia. ‘That is absolutely none of your affair!’
‘It becomes very much my affair if you are to become my sister,’ he replied smoothly. ‘As for knowing … the scope of my knowledge would undoubtedly surprise you. There is very little I can’t discover if I choose to do so. But let us return to Gilbert. I am sure he is very taken with you – but that is by no means the whole story.’
Lydia was by now more than half-inclined to have Henry show his lordship the door. He was rude, arrogant and patronising and she disliked him more every minute. There was also something naggingly familiar about him … something she could only put down to him being Gilbert’s brother even though, in most respects, the two men couldn’t be more dissimilar.
She said, ‘Then what is? I’d be obliged if you would come to the point, sir.’
‘The point, Mistress Neville, is that my brother has a number of wild and fantastical notions … one might even call them obsessions … in which you have quite unwittingly become embroiled. Family loyalty and respect for my name forbids me to give you details. But it seemed unfair to allow you to fall blindly victim to Gilbert’s charm without realising that you do not have a complete picture.’
‘Considering you don’t want a tradesman’s widow in the family, that is exceedingly thoughtful of you.’ Lydia stood up and waited for the Viscount to do the same. He didn’t. Her brows rose and she said, ‘I think this conversation is at an end, don’t you?’
‘Not entirely.’ He took another sip of wine, set down his glass and finally came unhurriedly to his feet. ‘I am aware of your twin charitable enterprises. I even applaud them. But you should understand that marriage with my family would preclude your continued involvement in them.’ His mouth curled slightly but his eyes remained chilly and expressionless. ‘You may think I could not prevent you. You would be wrong.’ He reached for his hat and added, ‘I suggest you consider what I have said. It was well-intentioned.’
‘Pardon me for observing that it didn’t seem so,’ responded Lydia tartly. ‘And there appears to be one little thing you have over-looked.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes.’ She rang the bell that would summon Henry. ‘You don’t seem to have considered the possibility that you need not have told me any of this; that, if your brother were to propose marriage, I might simply refuse.’
‘And would you?’
‘I think Gilbert deserves to know that before you do,’ said Lydia sweetly. And then, as the door opened. ‘Henry. Lord Northcote is leaving. Please show him out.’
* * *
Twenty-four hours later, Lydia was still quietly fuming. Inevitably, she’d spent a large part of the night thinking of all the things she could have said to his infuriating lordship and wishing they’d occurred to her at the time. As a consequence, when Gilbert Wakefield arrived just as she was about to set off for Duck Lane, she was still in no mood to be tactful.
Removing her cloak and tossing it over a chair, she said, ‘Come into the parlour. I’d like a word.’
His brows rose slightly but he followed her and, closing the door behind him, said, ‘Has something happened to vex you?’
‘Yes. Your brother.’
‘Edmund?’ he said blankly. And then, ‘He came here? Why?’
‘To let me know that should you offer me marriage, he’d like me to refuse.’
For a long moment, Gilbert simply stared at her. But finally, in the coldest tone she had ever heard him use, he said, ‘Damn him! How dare he? That is no business of his.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘What else did he say?’
‘Quite a lot. Enough – and in such a way that I’ve told Henry not to admit him in future.’
He nodded distractedly. ‘Yes. But what did he actually say?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I don’t know. It might. And don’t worry about offending me – you won’t. I know precisely what he can be like.’
‘Very well. He said you can do better than a tradesman’s widow. He inferred that he knows more than he should about my financial status. He accused you of having wild, fantastic obsessions which are in some way related to myself. And he finished by informing me that if I married you, he’d see to it that what he called my ‘charitable enterprises’ came to an end. All this despite my having already told him you hadn’t proposed to me at all.’ She drew an unsteady breath and added, ‘I’m sorry. As you can see, I’m still furious.’
‘I don’t blame you and it’s I who should apologise to you.’ A note of worry mingled oddly with his initial anger. ‘There are times when Edmund takes far too much upon himself … and other times when he gets completely inexplicable ideas.’
‘So these wild fancies he spoke of have nothing to do with what you said to me when we first met? That you hoped to find some connection between Stephen’s family and yours?’
‘No! Not at all.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve come across anything since --’
‘No – and I’ve been through Stephen’s papers more times than I can count,’ she replied tersely. Then, refusing to be side-tracked, ‘So your brother was either making it up or imagining things?’
‘Yes. He didn’t explain what he meant?’
‘No. Pride and loyalty apparently forbade it. Personally, I’d have thought a man with such reverence for his family name would have better manners but --’
‘He thinks his title and influence obviate the need for them.’
Lydia eyed him narrowly.
‘Does he have a great deal of influence?’
‘It would seem so. He knows a good many powerful men and has various business interests, the nature of which he doesn’t discuss – at least, not with me. And of course he’s one of the members for Kent, along with Thomas Kelsey and a couple of others.’
‘He sits in the Parliament?’
‘He has a seat – though I believe he rarely occupies it. Didn’t I mention it?’
‘No.’ Lydia eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Actually, you scarcely ever speak of him at all.’
‘What would I say?’ asked Gilbert uncomfortably. ‘You’ve met him. It must be fairly clear that we don’t get on with each other.’
‘I suppose so.’ Lydia thought for a moment and then said, ‘At the risk of embarrassing us both, I think we have to address the real point of his visit. You didn’t appear particularly surprised that he spoke of a possible marriage between you and I. Angry at his presumption, yes – but not surprised. Why was that?’
He coloured slightly and when he spoke, his voice was leaden.
‘Because it’s true. I was … working my way up to making you an offer. But after this, you’re hardly likely to say yes, are you?’
Lydia tried to find a kind way of being honest and, when she couldn’t think of one, settled for the simple truth.
‘I’m sorry, Gilbert but I’d have said no anyway.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘No. I doubt if you do. I like you and I value your friendship a great deal but I don’t think that’s enough. I know that marriage is supposed to be about mutual gain rather than mutual affection … but I can’t look at it that way. I married Stephen out of necessity and was incredibly lucky that we grew fond of one another and were happy. But if and when I marry again, I’m hoping for something more. Can you understand?
’
‘Yes.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Unfortunately, I can. It’s Colonel Maxwell, I suppose?’
It was Lydia’s turn to flush.
‘Not at all! Colonel Maxwell is completely beside the point.’
‘Of course. Forgive me.’ He stopped, looking vaguely at a loss. And then, ‘Am I also to be barred from your door?’
‘By no means! How could you think it?’
‘Then may I escort you wherever you were going? The snow has stopped but the streets are icy and treacherous. I’d be happy to give you my arm.’
‘And I’d be happy to take it,’ said Lydia truthfully. ‘But since your objectionable brother seems to have been spying on one or both of us, I think it might be sensible not to give him further ammunition.’
* * *
Later, when she had the leisure to think about it, Lydia wondered just how foolishly transparent she actually was when it came to Eden Maxwell. Venetia had guessed – as had Nicholas, long before having his suspicions confirmed on Christmas Day. But Gilbert? How had that happened? As far as she could recall, he’d only seen her with the Colonel on two extremely brief occasions. So if he knew … was there anyone left who didn’t?
It was an acutely embarrassing thought and she hadn’t even begun to get over it when the Colonel arrived in person; the first time she’d laid eyes on him in over three weeks.
Unsure whether pleasure or pique was uppermost, she eyed him coolly and said, ‘Goodness. I thought you’d taken to the heather.’
Eden looked back, trying to gauge her mood and said cautiously, ‘Why would I do that?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Realising how pettish she sounded, she sought to mend it. ‘Nicholas said you’d been given additional duties at the Tower.’ And then she ruined the effect by adding, ‘Obviously, they were extremely time-consuming.’
‘Yes.’ Feeling on much safer ground, he smiled. ‘You sound cross. Have I called at a bad time – or did you miss me?’
‘Neither. And don’t flatter yourself.’
‘I wasn’t.’ Catching the flash of annoyance in her eyes, Eden decided further provocation might be unwise. ‘I’m sorry. I’d neither wanted nor intended to disappear for so long but, as things turned out, it was unavoidable. Please believe that I’d have come if I could – indeed, I’d have come regardless, if you’d needed me.’
‘Then it’s lucky I didn’t, isn’t it?’
‘Probably.’ It wasn’t luck. I had you surrounded with every wall I could build. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ Yes. All right. I missed you. And missed you - and missed you - and missed you. And now you’re here and I sound like a shrew. She made a small helpless gesture and said abruptly, ‘I’m sorry, too. It’s just that I’ve had … an odd couple of days.’
‘Odd?’
‘Unsettling – though not really of any great consequence.’ She paused and then, with a swift smile, said, ‘You’re allowed to sit down – if you have time to stay, that is.’
‘I’ve time enough.’ Eden waited until she was seated before taking the chair facing her. ‘Do you want to tell me about these odd things of little consequence?’
‘Not especially.’ Lydia decided it wouldn’t be fair to reveal that Mr Wakefield had almost made her a proposal of marriage. ‘None of it is anything to do with my other difficulties – so I’d sooner hear your news. You’re still at the Tower?’
‘Yes. I’d like to say that tensions are easing but unfortunately there’s scant sign of that as yet.’ In fact, he’d just taken delivery of Major-General Overton – sent south under guard for his part in the plot to relieve General Monck of command in Scotland. ‘And according to Gabriel, things are no better at Westminster. He’s anticipating dissolution early next month.’
‘Even earlier than that, if Mr Radford’s newspaper is to be believed.’
Eden’s brows rose and he grinned.
‘I didn’t know you read the Moderate … though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I can see how Leveller principles might appeal to you.’
‘Some of them,’ she agreed. ‘But that’s not why I buy the news-sheet.’
‘Why, then?’
‘Nicholas says Mr Radford is struggling to make ends meet and I’m working on the assumption that every copy he sells will help.’
He laughed and shook his head.
‘Of course. Why did I need to ask?
‘I don’t know. Why did you?’ And then, without waiting for an answer, ‘Is your brother back from Oxfordshire yet?’
‘Yes. He returned just after Twelfth Night – though with Tabitha’s baby due towards the end of February, I imagine he’ll be dashing off again around then.’ He hesitated briefly and then said, ‘Has Nicholas talked to you at all?’
Lydia stiffened, praying he wasn’t going to refer to what Nicholas had seen at Yule.
‘He talks to me nearly every day.’
‘Yes – but about himself.’
She relaxed. ‘No. Should he have done?’
‘No. I just thought he might. As I imagine you’ve guessed, he’s formed an attachment for Phoebe Clifford but, for obvious reasons, is nervous about declaring himself.’
Lydia stared at him blankly.
‘Obvious reasons?’
‘Exactly. That’s why I hoped he’d speak to you.’
‘Well, he hasn’t. What reasons?’
‘His arm … or rather, the lack of it.’ And when she continued to look baffled, ‘He’s worrying about his physical appearance. Clearly, you think he needn’t.’
‘No. I understand why he would of course, but not why he considers it an obstacle.’
Eden sighed. ‘I knew you’d say that. If I’d thought of it earlier, I might have given him better advice.’
‘Why? What advice did you give him?’
A slow smile dawned, half-rueful and half-wicked.
‘I don’t think I’d better tell you.’
Lydia swallowed hard and tried to think past that smile. Then, eyes widening, she said, ‘Oh my God. You told him to find a sympathetic whore. Didn’t you?’
Laughter flared in his face.
‘Mistress Neville! What a thing to say! I’m shocked!’
‘Don’t prevaricate. Did you or didn’t you?’
‘Yes … though not in those exact words. Was it such a bad idea?’
‘That would depend.’ She thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘I doubt he’ll do it anyway.’
‘So do I.’ He continued to regard her with lazy amusement. ‘You know … with the possible exception of my mother, I don’t think I’ve ever met another lady who could use the word ‘whore’ without blushing – or indeed, use it at all.’
Belatedly and not for the reason he’d just mentioned, Lydia felt her cheeks grow warm.
‘Most gentlemen wouldn’t consider that a recommendation.’
‘I’m not most gentlemen.’
‘So I’ve noticed.’
Oh well done, darling. You don’t give an inch, do you?
He had become almost accustomed to his body responding to her when he least expected it. Usually it happened when her hair was threatening to fall around her neck or when she was wearing a gown that displayed inches of soft, creamy skin. Right now, her hair was neatly pinned and the dark grey up-to-the-neck, down-to-the-wrist gown ought to have been about as enticing as a shroud … except that it wasn’t. It made him think of unfastening it to reveal first the parts of her he’d seen and then the parts he hadn’t. But the reason he was thinking that way right now was because she was warm and acerbic and clever; and because something unexpectedly tempting flowered in his chest at the certainty that she’d missed him.
Realising she was waiting for him to speak, he cleared his throat and said, ‘Is that why I’ve not been offered wine?’
‘No.’ But it’s why I can’t marry Gilbert Wakefield. ‘I just didn’t think you’d be here long enough to drink it.’
* * *
During the next five days, Gabriel reported that things in Westminster were going from bad to worse. On the 17th, Parliament declared that the Protector must either accept or reject their changes to the franchise; on the 18th, it set up a committee to supervise partial disbandment of the Army; and on the 20th, it voted to take complete control of the Militia into its own hands.
This proved to be the final straw.
On the morning of January 22nd, members of the House found themselves summoned once more to presence of the Lord Protector in the Painted Chamber.
His complaints were many and varied and, as ever, lengthy.
He had hoped they might leave the Instrument as it stood in favour of dealing with at least some of his eighty-two ordinances; he objected to having been omitted from discussion on the Constitutional Bill; and he launched with passion into the “division, discontent and dissatisfaction” that had multiplied during the five months the House had been sitting.
‘Foundations,’ he accused, ‘have also been laid for the future renewing of the troubles of these nations by all the enemies of them abroad and at home – these have nourished themselves under your shadow. The Cavalier party has been designing and preparing to put this nation into blood again. They have been making great preparations of arms; commissions for regiments of Horse and Foot have been likewise given from Charles Stuart – all since your sitting.’
Next came the Army which he claimed had been “starved and put upon free quarter despite the current peril.” And finally, the crux of the matter.
‘I think myself bound, as in my duty to God and to the people of these nations for their safety and good in every respect. I think it my duty to tell you that it is not for the profit of these nations, nor for common and public good, for you to continue here any longer. And therefore I do declare unto you that I do dissolve this Parliament.’
Inevitably, the Protector’s announcement called up a storm of argument and protest. Colonel Brandon let it wash over him and walked through fresh flurries of snow to break the news to Colonel Maxwell.
For a moment or two Eden regarded him speechlessly. Then he said, ‘But he can’t do that. Can he? Until the five months are up, surely it’s not legal?’
