The Caged Countess

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘Claudia?’

  When he received no answer he tried again but with no more success.

  ‘Claudia, please talk to me.’

  There was no answer and no sound from within. He tried the handle but the door was locked. He sighed. Short of forcing his way in there was no way to resolve this. While breaking the door down would have been quite easy, and provided a release for pent up emotion into the bargain, he could not suppose it would advance his cause in the least. Admitting temporary defeat he retired to his chamber once more.

  In spite of his weariness sleep was a long time in coming that night; the memory of her was too sharp, too immediate to banish. The scent of her was in the air he breathed, subtle, sensual, exciting like the woman herself. That wonderful brief liaison had not dulled desire in the least; rather it had sharpened it. He wanted her more than anything in his life before. He wanted to hold her, to protect her, to tell her the secrets of his heart. He wanted to make up somehow for all the wasted years. Consequently it was not until the early hours that he finally dropped off into an uneasy doze and then a much deeper sleep.

  As a result he awoke later than usual and it was ten o’clock before he went downstairs next morning. There was no sign of Claudia, although that did not entirely surprise him. He partook of a light breakfast and read some correspondence. When, an hour later, there was still no sign of her he went to her room and tapped lightly on the door. His knock elicited no answer. He tried the door, expecting to find it still locked, but instead it opened easily. He stepped into the room.

  ‘Claudia?’

  The chamber was quite still and also chill. He frowned, looking swiftly around. The bed had been remade but the fire was a pile of grey ash. There was no evidence of any clothing at all; not so much as a handkerchief. The dressing table was bare of brushes and combs and jars. An unpleasant suspicion began to form in his mind. Striding across to the chest of drawers he pulled it open. Every drawer was empty; likewise the closet. His jaw tightened. Things were much worse than he’d imagined. For a moment or two he surveyed the empty room with a mounting sense of dread. Then, turning on heel, he retraced his steps and summoned the butler.

  ‘Where is Lady Claudia?’

  ‘She left first thing this morning, my lord.’

  ‘I see.’ He did see, only too well, as every moment of the previous night’s events returned to haunt him. With an

  effort he gathered his wits. ‘She has gone to London, I collect.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Did she go alone?’

  ‘No, her maid went with her.’

  That at least was something. Her present state of mind he could only guess at. ‘Find Matthew and tell him I want to speak to him at once.’

  An hour later the Earl was on the road. He had plenty of leisure to regret his folly now. He should have talked to her last night; should have broken the door down, taken her in his arms, begged her forgiveness. Instead he had listened to his doubts and let the gulf widen. He had no idea how he was going to repair the damage, only that he had to try. To do that, he had first to find her.

  * * *

  Claudia saw little of the passing countryside beyond the carriage window, or of the busy quayside inn or indeed of the packet boat later. Her thoughts were otherwise engaged. She had slept little and risen at dawn. Her body still throbbed with the recollection of that brief passionate interlude with the Earl. She had never anticipated that a man could make her feel like that. Recent events should have killed all desire, but to her shame they left sensation heightened. Just thinking about it caused her pulse to race. The memory of his caresses was imprinted all over her skin like a brand. It had been so tempting to open the door last night and let him in, but if she had there could only have been one outcome. She would never have had the strength to refuse him once he touched her again. She would have given herself to a man who took her only because he could, because it was his right and because he needed an heir. And yet if that were so, why had he pulled away at the last moment? Surely he would have taken her, regardless? Confusion mounted. To have opened her door after that would have been to forfeit all self-respect and, ultimately perhaps, a lot more besides. Instead she had lain quite still and listened as he walked away. At dawn she summoned Lucy and told her to pack.

  Brussels would provide a powerful antidote to the malaise that gripped her now. Quite apart from her new mission, the change of scene, reunion with friends, the social round of parties and balls would help her to forget. It would be some time before Anthony discovered where she was; she had left no note, no clue as to her destination. If she had to talk to him now she suspected that she wouldn’t be strong enough to see her plan through. As it was, by the time he did find her, she would be over this. No doubt he would be angry but she no longer cared about that. Nor would she allow herself to be dominated. If it came to a confrontation she would face it. Then they could go back to living the separate lives they had always lived.

  For the majority of the crossing Claudia remained on deck, feeling disinclined for company. The fair weather was an added inducement. The sea was all sun-shot greens and blues and the breeze kind. She could not but reflect how different it was from the last time she had travelled by boat. Of course, Anthony had been with her, a strong bulwark between her and disaster. He had known the truth by then, but he could never have guessed how that revelation would mire them both in more trouble. Perhaps it would have been better if he had never spoken; had let her continue to think he was an adventurer called Antoine Duval. To think she had once believed that bedroom scene in Paris to be disturbing. How naïve and foolish that had been.

  * * *

  The Earl arrived in Grosvenor Square to find the house empty apart from a skeleton staff. The rooms were shuttered, the furniture still under Holland covers. Of Claudia there was no sign whatever, nor any indication that she had ever intended to come. His questioning of the servants drew a complete blank too. He realised then that she must have laid a false trail to throw him off the scent. She could be anywhere. Concern became tinged with anger that she could have acted with so little thought for safety.

  Rather than remain in the dreary mausoleum in Grosvenor Square, he put up at an inn and ordered dinner. It gave him time to think. He was quite sure that his wife had friends in town but he had no idea who they might be. Moreover, she must have guessed that London was the first place he would look and that, in the relatively small exclusive circle of Society, it would only be a matter of time before they met. Then, unless she wanted to be food for a Season’s gossip, she would be compelled to live under the same roof with him again. With the insight he now possessed into Claudia’s character, he knew that wasn’t part of her plans. If he guessed aright, she meant to reclaim her independence. For the time he felt the prickling of real apprehension. This flight of hers was not a ruse to test his interest and see if he would follow her; his wife did not wish to be found.

  * * *

  Lady Anne Harrington’s house was in the Rue Royale overlooking the park. The street with its imposing buildings and prime location was among the most sought after addresses in Brussels. Claudia glanced up at the pillared entrance and smiled to herself, hazarding a guess that the rental must be costing a pretty penny. Not that that would trouble Anne for a minute. Her tastes were extravagant and she had married a man rich enough to indulge them. Sir Quentin was twenty years older than his wife but he doted on her and their two children. Claudia had spoken to him on only a few occasions, but he was a kindly man, easily disposed to like his wife’s friend.

  When the footman showed her into the drawing room Lady Anne rose to greet her. Two years older than her guest, she was a pretty young woman with fair curls and sparkling blue eyes. Her face was wreathed in smiles.

  ‘Claudia, what a delightful surprise it was to receive your note yesterday. I had no idea you were coming to Brussel
s.’

  ‘Nor did I until recently, but I needed a change of scene.’

  ‘You’ve come to the right place. Quite apart from the officers, most of the ton is here. There are balls and parties every night, and the theatre and the opera of course. The local countryside is beautiful too.’

  ‘In that case I’m glad I came.’

  ‘When did you arrive?’

  ‘Two days ago.’

  ‘You look tired my dear. Was the journey dreadful?’

  ‘Not so bad. A good night’s sleep is all I need.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘I am putting up at an hotel, until I move into permanent accommodation.’

  ‘My dear, you should have come here. We have room and to spare.’

  ‘I would not put you to the inconvenience. Besides, my new house will be ready on the morrow.’

  ‘You must give me the address.’ Lady Anne smiled. ‘In the meantime we shall have some tea and you can tell me all your news.’

  What she received was a highly censored version of events, omitting all mention of Paris and intelligence work. However, the news of the Earl’s return was sufficient to hold her friend’s attention since she knew, broadly, of the circumstances surrounding the marriage.

  ‘It must be very strange to meet a husband one has not seen for so long.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘Well, Brussels may help to pave the way; it will give you the chance to get to know each other again. A second courtship as it were.’

  Claudia laughed. ‘Hardly, since there was no first. Besides, my husband is not with me.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ Anne was momentarily taken aback. ‘No doubt he has much to attend to at present and will join you later.’

  ‘He has his life, Anne, and I have mine. That’s the way it has always been.’

  ‘Forgive me, I do not mean to be presumptuous, but might you not...I mean, might there not be a reconciliation?’

  ‘I think it highly unlikely.’

  ‘Then I am sorry. I would so like to see you in a warm and loving relationship.’

  For no good reason Claudia’s throat tightened. ‘Not everyone is as fortunate as you. I shall have to make do with the social round.’

  ‘That cannot sustain you for ever.’

  ‘It must, since there is nothing else.’

  Anne regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Well then, join us for the opera tomorrow evening. Catalani is singing. I feel sure you will enjoy it, and it will be a good way to announce your arrival to the rest of your friends and acquaintance.’

  Claudia mustered a smile. ‘Thank you. That would be delightful.’

  * * *

  Anthony returned to Oakley Court the following day to consider his next move. Having drawn a blank in the capital, he had to hope that there might be some clue in the house as to her present whereabouts. Not that he thought Claudia would make it easy. He could only guess at her present mental turmoil, at the unhappiness and desperation she must have felt. Knowing himself to be its author only made it worse. Mingled with guilt and remorse was increasing concern for her safety. That she had taken her maid with her gave him small comfort. A maid might provide a veneer of respectability but would be unlikely to provide any real protection should the need arise. He prayed that Claudia was staying with friends somewhere, and that her desire for independence hadn’t caused her to strike out alone. All manner of perils attached to that, and they loomed larger in his imagination by the day.

  The house seemed strangely quiet on his return, and somehow devoid of life. As he stood in the hallway he found himself listening for the rustle of a gown or a light step on the floor or the sound of music drifting from the drawing room, anything that would indicate that she had changed her mind and come home. However, none of those things happened. Instead, the silence rose up to mock him.

  Putting sentimental thoughts aside he bent his mind to the task of finding the information he needed. A more thorough search of Claudia’s chamber provided no clue as to her whereabouts; nor did the library or the study. Eventually he wandered into the salon and stood by the hearth, trying to think. As he glanced round, his eye fell on the bureau and then his heartbeat quickened.

  A swift search of various drawers produced a pile of papers: invitations, bills, lists, inventories. He glanced at them and tossed them aside. The last drawer revealed a bundle of letters tied with red ribbon. He unfastened it and leafed through the contents. There were several from a Lady Anne Harrington. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have dreamed of reading anyone else’s correspondence, but this was no ordinary situation. He scanned the sheets swiftly. They revealed nothing of significance; references to bygone social events, family matters, entertaining scraps of gossip, the intention of travelling to Brussels...

  As he read that last detail he was suddenly very still, experiencing a moment of quiet revelation. That had to be it. How on earth had he missed something so obvious? With Napoleon at large and raising an army, Wellington had been recalled from Vienna to muster the Coalition forces. Brussels would be full of officers of every nationality. Half of the crowned heads of Europe would be there and most of the ton with them, including Claudia’s friend. He smiled grimly, knowing now with absolute certainty where his wife had gone.

  * * *

  As Lady Anne had said, Claudia’s appearance at the opera had reunited her with different friends and acquaintance. It had also caused ripples of interest among the military men present; several of whom had asked to be introduced. The result of all this was a flurry of invitations. For several days she lost herself in a whirl of shopping and visiting and soirées.

  In between times she familiarised herself with the rented house in the Rue de Namur. It was a pleasant thoroughfare close to the park in the fashionable area of the city. The house with its pale pink frontage and green shutters looked pretty enough from the outside, and indoors had about it a look of faded grandeur that chimed with her mood. The property suited her purposes very well. She also set about hiring some local servants.

  With so much to do she managed to avoid thinking about Anthony very much during the day. It was at night, when she lay alone in her room that the memories came flooding back. The bed seemed too big. Each time she closed her eyes she saw his face, felt his body pressed close to hers. No matter how hard she tried to blot him out, the image refused to be banished. If only things had been different between them. If only physical attraction had been allied to sincere affection, but his heart was as untouched as it had ever been. Anne had spoken of wanting her to enjoy a warm and loving relationship, but her friend had no way of knowing how futile a hope it was. If love existed in marriage it was completely outside Claudia’s experience.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘I’ll see you at the ball this evening then,’ said Lady Anne as Claudia stepped out of the chaise.

  ‘Yes, you will. I cannot tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.’ It was perfectly true, she thought. She would dance all night. The event wouldn’t end until the early hours by which time she’d be too tired to do anything more than fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. How appealing that was.

  Claudia waved her friend farewell and then went into the house. It would take her hours to get ready for the evening, her mind occupied with trivia and not with her disastrous private life. In order to be able to stay the course, she had a nap in the early part of the afternoon and then, with Lucy’s help, began her preparations. These began with a leisurely bath and the softening of her skin with sweet oils, and then went on to the arranging of her hair, dressed high in a knot from which fell in a profusion of glossy curls. The lightest touch of powder and rouge highlighted her cheekbones and lips.

  She had purchased a new gown for this occasion, a confection of exquisite, gossamer-fine Indian muslin with an ove
rskirt spangled with tiny faceted crystals that caught the light with every movement. Diamond drops sparkled in her ears and echoed the matching pendant round her neck. A diamond clasp nestled among her curls. White gloves and slippers completed the ensemble. Lucy surveyed her mistress critically.

  ‘You look wonderful, my lady.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘A touch of perfume perhaps?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  It was her favourite scent, made up for her in Paris, a special blend of white musk and attar of rose. Finally she threw a light silken cloak about her shoulders.

  ‘I expect to be back very late, Lucy, so don’t wait up.’ With that she was gone.

  * * *

  The ball had been in progress for about an hour when she arrived. As her gaze swept the assembled crowd she smiled, feeling a familiar tingle of anticipation. Tonight she was going to dance and forget.

  ‘It looks as though just about everyone is here this evening,’ said a voice beside her.

  She looked round and smiled to see Lady Anne. ‘It’s a crush, isn’t it? Our hostess must be delighted.’

  ‘I’m sure she is.’

  ‘Rumour has it that Wellington will be here later.’

  ‘That would be the ultimate social accolade,’ replied Claudia.

  ‘It’s exciting, isn’t it? There are so many handsome officers here tonight. I confess I always had a soft spot for a man in regimentals.’