"You, Robert? Rude? Unforgivably rude? I don't believe it!"
"I was in a rage. Hugo was there. He'll tell you."
Lady Martindale looked astonished. "Can this be true, Hugo?"
"Yes. In fact, Robert was deuced unfair to Hester. I asked him about it on the journey down, but he wouldn't explain. I've never seen him like it before. In fact—" Hugo hesitated. "In fact, if it wasn't Robert we were talking about, I'd think he was..."
Lady Martindale leaned forward. "Yes?"
"I'd think he was...in..."
"In love?"
"Ridiculous, isn't it?"
"Of course it is!" Robert Dungarran said bitterly. "Go on, laugh, both of you. Thirty-one years old and I've fallen in love for the first time. Ridiculously in love. I've lost my head, my reason, my self-respect, and this morning I lost my temper. Your sister, Hugo, has never shown a liking for marriage, and not much for me, but now she will never be persuaded to consider either. Very amusing!"
"Robert! Dearest! I never thought to see this day! Oh, I'm so happy for you."
"Happy for me? My dear aunt, are you mad? Did you not hear? Hester Perceval will refuse even to meet me. She will never let herself love me."
"Unless I am very much mistaken, she already does."
"Lady Martindale, Robert is right." Hugo's face was troubled. "Hester has always sworn she would never marry. You may be right about her sentiments, but she can be remarkably pig-headed when she chooses."
"As we all know," said Robert Dungarran.
"I am ashamed of you! If a personable gentleman, with everything to recommend him, cannot persuade a young lady, who is more than half in love with him already, to marry him, then I shall... I shall eat my best hat! Mind you, I am not saying it will be easy, but that is not at all a bad thing. You've always found too much favour with the ladies."
"So you have told me, Godmama. I am pleased that one of us can be happy."
Lady Martindale smiled at Hugo. "Hugo, I don't think it wise in the circumstances to accept your parents' hospitality. But I think cousins of my late husband live somewhere in the neighbourhood, and we shall wheedle an invitation out of them. I look forward to seeing Hester and your parents again, and would love to come to your fete! Robert must please himself."
Lady Martindale wasted no time. She managed to catch her relatives just before they left London for the country, and received an enthusiastic invitation. Within a day or two she and her nephew joined them at Courtney Hall, just five miles from Abbot Quincey.
* * *
Hugo had preceded them to Northamptonshire, anxious to assure his sister that Wellington's life was secure. It was the only part of his news which pleased her. The rest—that Lady Martindale and Robert Dungarran were only five miles away, that Dungarran intended to call again very soon—was enough to send her back up to her attic, like a wounded animal seeking a hiding place. But the attic, which had been such a refuge in the past, held little consolation. She sat huddled in her armchair for hours, using all her powers of reason, all the intelligence she had so prided herself on, to cure the ache in her heart. She had been perfectly right to dismiss Dungarran as she had. Why on earth should she waste another moment's thought on him? He was an ingrate, a cold-hearted opportunist, who used people for his own ends, ignoring the fact that they were living, feeling human beings. She had overcome her panic to rescue his papers for him, gone through so much anxiety until she had found Lowell, she had undertaken a hideously uncomfortable overnight journey to Abbot Quincey, deceived her family, starved and gone without sleep to finish the transcription... And what were his first words? Not that he was glad to see her, not that he was amazed at what she had done for him. She hadn't existed. His concern was for the papers. "Miss Perceval. You have the Pentacle papers there, I see!'' He was a man without a heart and she would have no more to do with him. A feeling of desolation overcame her. Zeno would have to go, too. What was she to do now that her friendship with him was over? How would she fill her days?
"Hester! Hester!" Lowell's voice. She pulled herself together and got up. Lowell came bursting into the room. "Dungarran's here and Mama wants you!"
"Please tell Mama that I'll come down in a little while. When Lord Dungarran has gone."
"I can't do that," said Lowell, shocked. "She was very insistent. I think Dungarran has come to see Papa. You'd better come down, Hes."
Hester followed Lowell down the stairs and into the main body of the house. As soon as she was visible her mother caught her by the arm and dragged her along into her bedchamber. "My dear, clever girl, what a conquest! You must change, Hester! Your maid has laid out a dress for you, and she's waiting to do your hair." She was bustled into her room, where the maid started her ministrations.
"Mama, why the fuss? I don't intend to meet... anyone."
"Yes, you will, Hester! I insist! And so does your Papa!"
Hester grew pale. "I assume you mean me to see Lord Dungarran. Mama, you can't be so unkind!"
"Unkind? Unkind?" Lady Perceval was outraged. "Allow me to tell you, Hester Perceval, that not many young ladies are given the chance to marry into one of the richest families in England!"
"Marry! Do you mean to say that that...that man has the effrontery to come here with a proposal of marriage?"
"What are you saying? Effrontery? Really, Hester, I sometimes wonder whether your studies have turned your brain! Robert Dungarran comes from an old and respected family, he is rich, charming and altogether extremely eligible. A matrimonial prize of the first degree, and a very elusive one! It is a most flattering offer! Now let me hear no more nonsense! You will receive Dungarran, and you will listen to what he has to say!"
Lady Perceval was not to be swayed and Hester resigned herself to facing the man she had sworn to avoid, and, if her mother was right, to listen to a proposal of marriage she was determined to refuse. She received him in the small parlour.
"Lord Dungarran," she said coldly, as she curtseyed.
"Miss Perceval, I...I have your father's permission to..." He stopped, then said abruptly, "Would you take a walk in the grounds with me? It's a fine day, and this room brings to mind a scene I would rather forget."
Hester made no move. "Why should that be? It was surely the scene of one of your greatest successes—the secret of the Pentacle papers delivered to you in time to be effective. And, by someone who, being a woman, would hardly expect any acknowledgement, any respect or admiration for work involving the mind competently done. It was quite astounding that I was trusted with it in the first place."
"That is rubbish, and you know it! Give me ten minutes in the privacy and peace of the grounds and I can show you how highly I regard you, how much I acknowledge the superiority of your gifts. And how very much I love you and hope you will marry me."
"Very flatteringly put. But too late. I do not need ten minutes anywhere to remind you, Lord Dungarran, that I have never had the slightest intention of marrying anyone. And after our closer acquaintance I can now assure you that, if I ever did change my mind, it would not be in favour of you!" Hester could hear her voice rising angrily on these last words and stopped. This was not the behaviour recommended by books on deportment for young ladies receiving a proposal of marriage.
She took a breath and said sweetly and falsely, "I am sorry if this causes you pain, but—"
But Robert Dungarran, fortified by a short, informative chat with Lowell on the way in, said with a wry grin, "I doubt that! I doubt that very much indeed. And if it gives you any satisfaction, yes, you are causing me pain. But I refuse to depart as I no doubt should, with a manly smile and protestations of undying, if hopeless, regard! I am convinced that we could find happiness together in spite of your obstinate insistence—"
"The arrogance of men! I've heard enough! It's time you went, sir!"
"I'll go for now—it's obvious you won't listen to me today. But I'm not giving up, Hester. It's too important to me." He came up to her and, taking a firm hold of her hands, looked deep into h
er eyes. "Have you any idea how rare this is—this harmony of mind and body that flows between us? No, don't argue! Harmony, Hester! Think of the hours we spent working together—can you deny the instinctive understanding between us? And as for the body... I can remind you of the sweetest harmony of all..." He bent his head and though Hester pulled frantically away from him he refused to let her go. He trapped her in his arms and gave her a gentle kiss. But gentle or passionate—it made little difference. Her treacherous body melted as soon as their lips met...
"No!" she cried, and tore herself out of his arms. "No! I won't be seduced into marriage by— what did you call them?—'the pleasures of light dalliance'. I won't be your wife! I refuse to be any man's chattel or slave! And you may come here as often as you choose, Lord Dungarran—I shall not see you! Whatever my parents might say!"
His face was stern as he said, "Chattel? Slave? You demean yourself, and me, by such talk! This is no light dalliance, Hester! I want you for my companion, my partner, and I offer you a home, and children...and a lifetime's devotion. I won't let you cast them aside. Not without a fight. Be warned." He turned on his heel and went out.
Hester ran to the window and watched him striding away from the house towards the stables. He had always seemed tall, but here in the country he looked broader, more powerful. It was easier to believe that he was as gifted an athlete as Hugo. She turned away. This morning she had caught a glimpse of a new Robert Dungarran. The elegant man of the London drawing-rooms, with his air of detachment, his drawl and his lazy manner had been replaced with something more disturbing. His last words had revealed an aspect of his character which was, she was sure, known to very few. He had spoken seriously, almost severely, with a sense of deep sincerity. Was this the real Robert Dungarran? In speaking slightingly of herself as his wife she had offended him. Why? Was it because he really did have a view of marriage which demanded equal respect and support between man and wife? If so, it was an ideal which was radically different from her own jaundiced view. Which of them was nearer the reality?
Hester sought the isolation of her attic while she debated these questions. She considered her parents' marriage. Her mother did not pretend to be clever, but her father treated her with respect and love, and recent events proved what a support they were to each other. Among her own generation Beatrice Roade's marriage was full of love and humour, and what an asset Harry had been to her in dealing with her somewhat difficult father! Others came to mind, perhaps not so obviously ideal, but the couples involved seemed to be satisfied. Had she been over-influenced by her education at Mrs Guarding's? Had her first experience of London prejudiced her for life? And was she cutting herself off from something which could be... wonderful?
She resolutely refused to come down when Dungarran called. He had weapons to persuade her, which she was sure he would not scruple to use, and she wanted to think things out for herself. Each time he came he left a note for her with Lowell. They were all in cipher, which was as well, for some of them were not the sort she would have wished her mother to see. They all contained the wit and humour which she had associated with Zeno, and, though perhaps she did not realise it, they were, in their way, as disarming as his physical presence. But then one came which sent her raging out into the grounds like an avenging fury.
She found the note, as usual, on her desk, and, as usual, set about transcribing it. But before she was halfway through her cheeks were scarlet. It was one of the more lurid passages from The Wicked Marquis. Attached to it was a message. It ran: "Only three people in the world know the author's name, though many more would like to. Shall we tell them? Or would you like to discuss the matter first? Two o'clock this afternoon by the big cedar." No signature—but none was necessary.
She stormed out of the house and over the lawns at ten past two that afternoon ready for battle.
"You're early! That's good." He gave her one of his smiles, the dangerous sort, the sort to charm an unwary bird out of a tree.
Hester stopped in her tracks. The smile was doing things to her, she had never felt more like an unwary bird. She pulled herself together. "You said two o'clock!"
"I expected you to keep me waiting at least half an hour. Shall we walk on?" When Hester hesitated he added, "It's perfectly proper. Your mother knows you're in the grounds with me. She trusts me.
"She doesn't know any better," said Hester bitterly. "She thinks you're a gentleman, not a blackmailer." She fell into step with him and they walked towards the bridge by the lake.
"I had to do something, my love. You were never going to give me a chance to explain otherwise."
"I'm not your love!"
"Oh, you are! Whatever you might say or do, you will be my love. For ever. Don't ask me to explain that, Hester, because I can't. And that reminds me..." He took a parcel out of the pocket of his coat. "I must give you this."
She unwrapped it and looked up at him in surprise. "My apron! My blue apron."
"I found it on the floor of the study after you had disappeared. From that moment on I was hardly rational." He gave her a whimsical smile. "Absurd, isn't it? Robert Dungarran, the advocate of logic, Zeno, the mathematician and believer in the supreme power of reason, both turned upside down by a girl in a blue apron with ink on her face! That's what happened, Hester. I fell in love with you in this blue apron, though I didn't realise it till much later. And when the truth did hit me I had no idea how to deal with it! You stood in that doorway, surrounded by your family, and I didn't know whether I wanted to kiss you, beat you or ravish you on the spot. A fine, mixed-up state for Robert Dungarran to be in—especially as not one of them was possible! So I went back to what I did know, what we had chiefly shared—the Pentacle papers. I knew it was the wrong thing to say. But I couldn't for the life of me think of anything else! I was paralysed."
"I was so hurt! When Lowell told me you had arrived I could hardly stand on my feet, but I wanted to see you... And then...and then..."
"You believed my only thought was for the papers. Hester, I swear to you that when I saw you my head, my heart—everything I am—was full of you. Mentioning the papers was merely a...a line of communication when everything else was so confused that I didn't know where to begin."
"You were angry."
"I was furious! Try to understand what it was like, Hester. I can't remember a time when I was not in control of my feelings—my aunt would tell you that I was always too detached, never cared enough. Mathematics was my passion, and formulae and equations are not likely to arouse violent emotion. I had always shunned irrational attachments, even despised them. But you had taken possession of my heart before I knew it!"
Hester was in a state of agitation, her restless hands twisting the apron into an unrecognisable rag. Robert Dungarran gently removed it. "I'll hold this for you, Hester. I don't want it lost."
"You say your world has been turned upside down," she cried. "But so has mine! Ever since I was seventeen I have known what I would do with my future. Marriage played no part in it. And now...and now... You have come along again with your smiles, and your wit, and your looks... and...the rest—"
"My kisses?"
"Yes, damn you, your kisses! And I no longer know what I wish for..." Tears started to trickle down Hester's face. "How do I know what marriage to you would be like? How do I know whether we should be happy?''
He took her chin and lifted her eyes to his. "You can't," he said gravely. "Some things have to be taken on trust. But would you be any happier without me?" She was silenced. He took out his handkerchief and wiped her face. "At least it isn't ink," he said with a faint smile.
Hester turned away, still silent.
"Hester, you've now heard what I had to say. I cannot imagine life without you. But you are clearly not yet convinced. May I make a suggestion?" He saw that she was listening. "May we meet tomorrow—and every day after that—until you are certain of what you want? Let me try to persuade you that we have the best possible chance of happiness together. And
if you are still not convinced...' Hester looked at him. His smile was twisted. "I shall not bother you after that."
For the next few days Hester met Robert Dungarran in the grounds every day. Every day she learned more about him—his quirky sense of humour, his consideration, his deep love of the countryside—aspects of his character which had never appeared during their acquaintance in London. Together they helped with preparations for the fete which was imminent, and she saw how easy he was with a wide variety of people—her family, visitors, tradesmen, servants, farmers.
Every morning he sent her a love letter—love letters which must be unique, for they were all in complicated ciphers which she had to work hard to solve. Some sentences made her laugh, some moved her beyond measure, and parts of them brought a vivid blush to her cheeks. At the end of a week Robert Dungarran had succeeded. Hester Perceval, one-time dedicated spinster, had so changed that she was seriously contemplating marriage. But how was she to tell the man of her choice?
The day of the fete dawned bright and sunny. The whole family was thrown into a welter of last-minute preparation, followed by appearances during the fete itself. This was a huge success, the only mishap being the collapse of an awning over Hugo's head, just when he was about to present the prize pig. No damage was done except perhaps to Hugo's dignity, and much innocent fun was had in the attempts to retrieve the pig. But eventually the crowds had gone, the servants were beginning the work of clearing up and Hester could wait no longer. She sought out Robert Dungarran.
"We...we haven't had our walk today," she said nervously.
"Would you like one now?" he said instantly. "I think we have both done enough for Abbot Quincey and its fete, don't you? Come! Let's walk through the woods."
The sun was still hot enough to make the shade of the trees very welcome. By now they were usually at ease in each other's company, but today the mood was different. The bright flashes of sunshine, glinting and dancing through the leaves, enhanced the atmosphere of bright expectation. They stopped.
An Unreasonable Match Page 18
