by Nicola Pryce
Behind me I heard the bedroom door open. ‘Is that you, Cici?’ whispered Charity.
I pulled the bedclothes round us. Charity listened in silence but was clearly shocked. ‘It’s alright, Itty, the boy was saved.’
‘But it’s so horrible.’ A tear dropped to her cheek. I put my arms around her and held her tightly.
‘That’s why I ran away. I was so horrified, I acted on impulse. I thought if I went to Lady Polcarrow I could leave the boy with them and prepare to face Mama. I will never marry Viscount Vallenforth, not after that.’
‘No, of course not…but Mama will be furious. She’s already furious and Father’s in such a rage. They searched everywhere. Mr Randall set up a hunt and when the mare came back everyone thought you were dead.’ She held me tightly, her flood of tears returning. ‘Honestly, Cici, it’s been so awful. I’ve been beside myself. Where were you?’
As a child, I vowed never to lie to Charity. If I took something of hers, ribbons to match my dress, her special hairclip, I always told her. If I heard something, saw something, she would be the first to know. I had lied before to Mama, but never to Charity. The words stuck in my throat. ‘Lady Polcarrow couldn’t see me. I think she was ill…’
‘She is ill…they’re both dying. It’s awful. They ate some poisonous mushrooms and aren’t expected to live.’
‘That’s terrible.’
‘I know, it’s too awful to contemplate. Did you know Father hates Sir James? He says Sir James is a Jacobin. I heard him telling Mother that Lady Polcarrow and her father sympathise with the French.’
I had to watch my words. ‘Father hates Sir James because they have a land dispute, that’s all. It’s probably just in his interest to spread rumours.’
She nodded. ‘I hope you’re right. Where did you go for all that time?’ She dabbed her eyes. She looked so tired, her face as white as her cap.
‘I was going to write to Mama and tell her I would only return if I could be released from my engagement…but things went terribly wrong.’ I took a deep breath. ‘When Lady Polcarrow couldn’t see me, I decided to come straight back but it was dark and the mare was getting jumpy. I decided to lead her across the ford – the one that cuts across the river?’ Charity nodded. ‘Halfway across I tripped and let go of the reins. The mare ran in fright and I couldn’t call her back.’
‘But you must’ve seen everyone looking for you?’
‘I saw them, Itty – but I didn’t want to be found. I was in a terrible state. I thought the threat of scandal was my only option.’
‘They’re so cross with you. Mama’s convinced Arbella’s behind it. Where did you sleep?’
‘In the cottage – the door was unlocked. There’s a room up in the eaves and I slept in the bed. I was upstairs when you came to tea with Georgina. I wanted to catch your attention but Mama and Mrs Jennings were there. I was going to come back but the maids were too busy cleaning and they locked the cottage. I couldn’t get out – and the windows don’t open. I was locked in and no-one passed so I had to wait until the maid came this morning. She’s just brought me in through the servant’s stairs. They’ve a whole network of corridors and stairs running behind our rooms.’
‘There’s a bed in the witch’s cottage? You must’ve been petrified. Oh, Cici, if I’d only known. I could have got them to open the door. I’ve been so scared.’
‘I knew you were worried – too worried to eat. I ate your slice of Madeira cake, so you did help!’ She smiled and I began to relax. It sounded so plausible. Her head lay on my shoulder – my dearest, timid sister who I had just put through the worst of nightmares.
‘Promise you won’t go anywhere without telling me first.’
‘I promise. I absolutely promise.’ I settled further down the bed. ‘Are you alright?’
She nodded. ‘Father’s told everyone you had a fall and needed to rest. Mama’s furious. She’s written to Aunt Martha asking if they’ve found Arbella. She thinks you went to find her. She went straight to bed with one of her headaches and wouldn’t get up but Father insisted she should act as if nothing’s happened – that’s why we had tea in the cottage. He’s worried Sir Richard will suspect something.’
‘Sir Richard?’
‘Sir Richard Goldsworthy. Cici, you’re back just in time. Sir Richard and Major Trelawney are to come as house guests. They were meant to stay at Polcarrow but of course they can’t. Father’s insisted they come here.’
‘Who are they?’
‘I don’t know, but Father’s very keen to have them…and they must be of some importance or Mama would never have agreed. I’ve been sick with worry. I thought I’d have to face them on my own.’ She smiled a watery smile, looking up at me like when we were children. ‘You won’t run away again, will you?’
I thought my heart would break. ‘I promise.’ They would search the cottage and find the room. If I stood firm, my story could hold. It was nearly seven o’clock; we would not be woken for another two hours. ‘Itty, shall we try and catch some sleep?’
The bedclothes were warm, the bed soft beneath me, but it was too still, too silent. The room was too hot, the dusty bed curtains closing me in. There was no gentle rocking, no waves breaking against the bow. No breeze, no salt-laden air. I had to stop myself from crying. I wanted the smell of freshly brewed coffee, bread baking in the oven, fish sizzling in the pan. I wanted seagulls to screech, shackles to jangle, the mast to creak as the wind filled the sails. I wanted piercing green eyes to stare at me through the darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
Pendenning
Saturday 9th November 1793, 11:00 a.m.
‘You slept in the play cottage?’ I was always more scared of Mama when she used this tone. It was so much better when she shouted. Icy-calm politeness was her greatest weapon. ‘And did you find the cottage comfortable?’ She had dismissed her maid, only Saffron remained.
‘Mama, I’m not going to marry Viscount Vallenforth… and if you’d seen the look on his face as he was thrashing that boy, you’d not want to speak to him again either.’
‘I doubt that. But then I’m not a foolish, ungrateful child. I’m a woman who knows that a great man like Viscount Vallenforth can do what he likes. It’s his business, no-one else’s. Servants need discipline. Daughters need discipline.’ She fed Saffron another piece of chicken and rested back against her pillows. A silk shawl lay loosely round her shoulders, the plate of chicken on the bedclothes beside her.
‘He wasn’t a servant. He was just a boy – a child. He beat him nearly to death.’
‘I doubt that.’ She looked up, her furious, cold eyes slicing right through me. ‘But then you’ve always had a bad habit of exaggerating. Does it mean nothing to you that we were worried out of our wits?’
‘I was going to come back after you had taken tea. Mama, please listen to me. I was wrong to put you through so much anguish. I’m really sorry…I didn’t mean to stay away so long.’
‘Yes, I know. You were locked in the cottage.’
The shutters had been drawn back. Thin sunshine filtered into the room, lighting the red wallpaper, the cherubs, the ornate plaster round the door. Gold leaf glinted on the chairs, the mirrors, the posts of the bed. Hanging against the wardrobe was the gown she would wear; on the dressing table stood the wig she had chosen. It would be another two hours before she would get out of bed, a further two hours before she would finish dressing.
‘I won’t marry him. I can’t.’ My voice was breaking. After half an hour of her displeasure, I was finding it hard to stay calm. ‘Mama, please release me from this engagement. There must be other men of equal rank.’
‘Equal rank, but not equal influence. I had thought you sensible, prided myself you were not like your empty-headed cousin. But I was obviously wrong.’ She looked older without her make-up, years of discontent etched across her face. Even now, her mouth was tight with disapproval. ‘You’re too foolish to recognise your own good fortune. Viscount Vallenforth belongs
to a powerful family. Through him, your father will receive the peerage he deserves and Charity can, at the very least, hope for marriage. Your selfishness will have far-reaching consequences…but I believe you don’t care one jolt for your family’s name or reputation.’ She handed Saffron another piece of chicken.
‘I care deeply for our family and, of course, I want my marriage to advance our prestige, but find me someone I can at least respect. I’d never be able to free myself from what I saw. Every time he came out of the stables or returned from a ride, I’d be looking for signs of his cruelty. It would destroy me.’
She looked up. ‘Do you think me so heartless I don’t understand your revulsion? Things are best left unseen, that’s all – that way there’s a chance of happiness.’
I fought my fury, biting back my anger. She had heard the rumours yet she was prepared to turn a blind eye, throw her daughter like a lamb to a wolf. I had to match her icy-calm. No emotion, just straight refusal. ‘There’d be no chance of happiness and I’ll not marry him.’ I had to maintain my composure; if I did not, she would accuse me of outrageous temper.
She sat stroking her beloved pug, the veins prominent in her slender hands. There was a glass vial by her bed, a crystal decanter, an ivory comb. Her beaded slippers lay ready on the floor. She only ever allowed Georgina into her bedchamber and I felt strangely uncomfortable in the intimate surroundings. Suddenly her voice softened. ‘You’d better hand me that ring. I’ll speak to your father.’
I could hardly believe it. I looked up, smiling, reaching across the bedclothes to place the ring in her outstretched palm. I thought I might even kiss her. ‘Thank you, Mama. Thank you so much. Will you explain everything to Father?’
‘I will talk to your father, but you cannot expect me to discuss it tonight. He’s angry enough at your wilful disobedience and he’s engaged with Sir Richard until dinner. I cannot risk furthering his anger, not while we have guests – Sir Richard’s an important man and his stay with us must not be compromised. At the very least you’ll agree to that.’
‘Of course.’ My heart was beating. I had done it. I had held firm, drawn on every ounce of courage. Lady Polcarrow had been right. I was my own person and I had a right to refuse to marry a man I hated. I looked at Mama as if seeing her for the first time. Without her wig and rouge she looked pale, the hair beneath her cap thinning and grey at her temples. Perhaps I had misjudged her. ‘I’m sorry…I thought you wouldn’t understand. I’ve been very foolish and should have come straight to you, not put you through such anxiety.’
‘You’ll not be so foolish again.’ She was holding up the ring, watching the stones sparkle in her hand. Almost at once, her face hardened and she thrust it back towards me. ‘You must wear this tonight, Celia. If your father notices you aren’t wearing it, he’ll ask you why. Everything must be as it should be. Your appearance at dinner will scotch any rumours but if you aren’t wearing your ring, people will notice. Viscount Vallenforth must not hear rumours. After church tomorrow you can give me back the ring and your father will write to Viscount Vallenforth. That is the correct way of doing things.’
I put out my hand, knowing I must make amends. She watched me place the ring back on my finger and nodded to dismiss me. I curtseyed, turning to go. At the door, she stopped me. ‘We’ll be dining later than usual tonight. Sir Richard Goldsworthy prefers it. He’s a personal friend of Mr Pitt but I believe we can show him how equal we are to his society.’
‘And Major Trelawney?’
‘Major Trelawney’s merely a local man, but your father assures me he is sufficiently well mannered. I expect both of you in the drawing-room at five minutes to seven. You must look your best – your blue organza – and tell Charity I do not expect to see her wearing her glasses.’
‘But, Mama, she can see almost nothing without them.’
‘After dinner you will play Mozart – I don’t mind what you chose. Charity will sing “Ridente la calma”.’
‘But, Mama, Charity’s never sung that before…she doesn’t know it.’
‘Then I suggest you tell her to find Mrs Jennings,’ she replied, trying to coax Saffron to eat another delicate morsel.
Mama seemed oblivious to the anxiety she would be causing. Charity would be absolutely terrified. I had to brave her anger. ‘Couldn’t Mrs Jennings play and Charity and I sing together?’
‘Charity will sing “Ridente la calma”.’ The irritation in her voice left me in no doubt our conversation was at an end. I closed the door, leaning against it in near exhaustion. Charity was waiting, her face pale with fright.
I squeezed her hand. ‘Mama will tell Father after church tomorrow, until then I have to wear the ring.’ I slipped my arm through hers. ‘But we need to find Mrs Jennings – Mama wants you to sing tonight.’
I was wrong. Mama knew exactly how much anxiety she was causing. My penance was to watch Charity suffer.
The bedroom lay cluttered with discarded gowns. Mrs Jennings took a step back. ‘Hold still, Charity, let me pin this brooch a little higher. There, you look perfect.’ Her face relaxed. ‘Just remember, you’ve the voice of an angel and no-one can sing more beautifully. You’ve learnt it perfectly.’
‘But I might forget the words.’
‘No you won’t, but if you do, I’ll be right beside you and sing them for you.’ I was wearing my blue organza, my satin shoes. Charity was wearing her lemon gown. She seemed so fragile, so ethereal, her blonde hair framing her face in a mass of tiny ringlets. I knew how nervous she was. Without her glasses she could see only colours. With her glasses she could see outlines and shapes. This was her first formal dinner and the first time she had been asked to sing in front of Mama’s guests.
Mrs Jennings smiled. ‘Just remember Lady April’s rules, my dears. Smile if you’re addressed, reply quickly and courteously to any direct questions, but otherwise keep silent. Leave all talk of politics to the men and never give your own opinion. And, Celia…’ Her eyes sought mine for yet another reproving glance. ‘Not a foot wrong, you understand?’
Georgina looked up from her sulky silence. ‘Yes, Celia. Not a foot wrong. You’re in terrible trouble. Papa’s furious. They won’t forgive you. You’ll be shut in your room for running away.’
‘I didn’t run away. I was locked in the cottage…And you can sneak straight back and tell Mama.’
She tossed her head, her hair curling down her back, her lips pouting in their customary fashion. ‘I can’t, can I? I’m not allowed downstairs. I’ve got to go to the nursery to have my meal with the babies and Mrs Mackerel.’
Mrs Jennings almost jumped, her eyes flashing with disapproval. ‘Mrs McCreal, really, Georgina! Calling people names is beneath you.’
‘It’s what Celia calls her. I heard her laughing with Charity – it’s her name, not mine.’
‘Then all three of you are at fault and no-one’s to repeat it.’ Mrs Jennings wiped her brow with her handkerchief. I could see she was exhausted. It had been a very intense day; the room was as hot as a furnace. The fire had been lit to dry our hair and what with the tongs and the four of us, and at least as many maids, the air was stuffy and unbreathable. I crossed to the window, lifting the sash, breathing in the welcome freshness, the hint of salt.
The ring-necked doves were sitting on their narrow ledge. Charity came to my side. ‘I fed them for you. I saved my bread and left it – just like you do.’
‘They pair for life, Itty. If one dies, the other will pine.’
She put her arm through mine. ‘You seem so sad, Cici. Are you alright?’
She was so perceptive; I could never hide my feelings from her. ‘Mama never asked how the boy was, or if I’d taken him anywhere. She must’ve presumed I just left him for someone else to find.’
She squeezed my arm. ‘In a way, that was good.’
‘It let me off the hook…I ought to be grateful, but it makes me sad.’
‘Time to go downstairs…don’t forget your fans. Come, Georgina, ti
me to see your baby brother and I wonder what Sarah’s been doing today. Perhaps she’s drawn us a picture.’ Mrs Jennings stood by the door, her black gown and purple brooch as impeccable as ever, her cap just a little to one side. Georgina remained slumped across the chair, her podgy fingers smoothing out several of my ribbons. She had clearly picked out the best.
‘It’s not fair. I’m twelve, I’m not a baby. I’m always left out. Celia and Charity have all the fun. I don’t have any beautiful dresses or ribbons as lovely as these. They have everything. It’s so unfair. And Celia’s never nice to me.’
I took a deep breath. Of course I understood, but even so, everything I said or did went straight back to Mama; her eyes, her ears, always watching. Take whatever you want,’ I snapped. ‘Put it with my tortoiseshell comb and ivory hair clasp – and everything else you have of mine.’
I had been back for less than twelve hours and already the walls seemed to be closing in on me.
Chapter Sixteen
Major Trelawney swung his leg stiffly behind him as he handed Charity to her seat. Charity smiled, no doubt wishing she could see the details of his scarlet coat, his white sash, blue collar and cuffs, the gold lace on his shoulders. Sir Richard was on Mama’s right, Major Trelawney on her left. I would be on Father’s right. At some stage he would have to speak to me but, for the moment, I was enjoying his frosty silence.
‘Lady April, this is splendid. Your hospitality’s most welcome. To dine with you and your charming daughters is an honour indeed.’ Sir Richard’s shrewd eyes looked at each of us in turn.
Mama’s intention was always to remind her guests she was an earl’s daughter. We were using the Sèvres china, the finest silver, the crystal candelabra. Huge tureens and silver platters crammed every available space and a large silver urn brimmed with exotic fruits and nuts. She caught his appreciative glance and shrugged her shoulders. ‘You join us as family, Sir Richard, nothing more. In London we’re used to greater society – I’m surprised our paths haven’t crossed, but you know my brother, I believe.’
