“Of course,” said Lady Westlake, aware she was being watched in her role as a new mother, adding, “Shall I send the maid up with something?”
“Oh no! Thank you, but I just need a little rest,” Ada said, horrified. There was no way that she wanted a maid going into her room and finding out that she was not there after all.
She left the room, but instead of going upstairs, she glanced left and right to check that no footmen were watching, then slipped out of the side door. She had always gone this way when she had played with Rose as a child.
Outside, Ada took a deep breath of the night air. Dew sparkled on the lawn and the box maze loomed before her like a dark sea. Feeling like a trespasser, she pushed open the wrought-iron gate—how it creaked!—and with a nervous glance behind her, stepped into the maze.
It was silent in here, and secret, and sheltered. Sound was dulled by the dark living walls on both sides. Only her footsteps crunched on the gravel, and it felt as if she were somehow outside time, outside everything she knew, as if Somerton had evaporated like a dream, leaving nothing but herself, drawn onward as if by a magnet, through the dark coils.
She reached the center. A small stone fountain played before her, a nymph with an urn spilling water. Behind it were shadows, and out of those shadows stepped Ravi, the white of his collar gleaming in the moonlight.
“You came.” His voice trembled as he approached her. He took her hands and pressed them, and she realized how cold she was. She looked up into his dark eyes and her first impulse was to kiss him again. But she drew back quickly.
“Mr. Sundaresan—it’s impossible—”
“Yes, I know,” he interrupted her, awkwardly and hastily. “Of course it is. I simply wanted to see you again.”
“You must understand that I am not that kind of girl.” She couldn’t look him in the face.
“I do understand. It was my fault, I should never have let it happen. I should have thought of you—of your position.” He was still holding her hands.
“You don’t think badly of me?” She looked at him then.
“Of you? I could never. I should have resisted the temptation that I felt being so near to you. You are stunningly beautiful of course, but talking to you is even more…” He dropped her hands at last. “It doesn’t matter. What I did was as bad as theft. I had no right.”
“So we can be friends?” She said it hopefully, but she felt so very disappointed, as if she had opened a Christmas parcel and found it empty. She scolded herself. He understood the impossibility of the situation completely, and he did not judge her for her behavior. What more could she have hoped for?
Ravi studied her face and after a second’s hesitation he said: “I hope we can be friends. If you can forgive me.”
“Of course I can,” she said softly. He cleared his throat and looked away. She thought he looked almost angry.
“Let’s talk of something else,” he said gruffly. “How are you finding your new family?”
They strolled into the maze as they talked in low voices.
“I like Sebastian very much,” she told him. “I think Charlotte will be a little more…difficult to get to know. I imagine she finds it quite trying to be here.”
“You’re very tactful,” he said, his eyes dancing with humor. “In fact, I thought the judgment of Paris was a very appropriate subject for this particular wedding.”
Ada caught his eye and laughed.
“Oh dear, is it so obvious that there is going to be a war?”
“It’s obvious that you belong in quite a different sphere to her ladyship’s and her daughter’s.”
“I’m afraid they think the same.”
“It would be best if you could get out of their influence,” he said. “Have you thought more about Oxford?”
“I never stop thinking about it. This may seem strange to you, but an education, to me, means independence.”
“That does not seem at all strange. It means the same to me. And what is more important in life than independence? You must go to Oxford, Ada. Promise me you will take the exams.” He stopped and took her hands again, looking into her face. “Why are you hesitating? I hope you don’t think you wouldn’t be capable. You are so intelligent—”
“Mr. Varley has proposed,” she said.
He drew in his breath sharply and walked ahead of her. “That does not quite answer my question.”
“You know it does, to an extent,” Ada said, catching up to his stride.
“To an extent?” He stopped abruptly and looked at her. “Ada, promise me you will not marry someone who forbids you from following your heart.”
She thought of her father. Of her sister. Of Somerton, and the weight of all the Averleys who had come before her, and who had been held up as examples all through her childhood for doing their duty.
“It isn’t that simple,” she said, starting to get angry. “It’s so easy for you. You’re a man. You want to go to university and you just go, there is no one barring your way.”
“Easy?” he said roughly. “Believe me, it has not been easy. I am no maharajah, I am the son of a clerk—what your kind of people would call middle class.” He pronounced it with some bitter scorn. “My father saved for years to send me here to study. It is unheard of for an Indian of my class to go to Oxford, and it would still have been impossible without Mr. Varley’s support. You once asked if I thought you ridiculous for wanting an education. I don’t, but plenty of people think me ridiculous for wanting the same thing.”
“Then they’re fools,” Ada said.
He took her hand, and went on, more gently.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. And my story is not important. I am—let me say I am concerned about you. You must marry someone who will let you follow your dreams.”
She pulled her hand away.
“Why should it be everyone’s concern whom I marry?” she said, her eyes flashing.
“Perhaps because they care for you.”
“Do you care for me?” she said. The words didn’t feel like her own.
In answer he took her hands again and drew her close to him. His breath was warm on her face, and she felt dizzy, as if it were a drug. His lips touched hers as gently as a snowflake. She took a shuddery breath.
“Ada?” came a distant voice.
Ada jerked away, her eyes wide and frightened.
“It’s your sister,” Ravi whispered.
“Oh God! She can’t find me in here.” Ada was already tiptoeing through the maze.
As Ada reached the last turn Ravi caught her hand and pulled her back and kissed her long and fiercely. Before he let her go he held her still closer and whispered, “I don’t care if it’s impossible.”
“But it is,” she whispered back, and pulled away and hurried out into the shadows.
“Ada! Are you there?” Georgiana was on the terrace, looking in the other direction.
“Here I am,” she called, trying to steady her voice. “I just went out for a breath of fresh air.”
“Oh! I was worried about you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Perfectly.” She was breathing fast and she was terrified that Georgiana would sense the desire she still felt. She said as calmly as she could, “The fresh air has cleared my head. But you will catch cold and you know how it goes to your chest. Let’s go inside.”
“It’s too terribly boring being ill all the time,” Georgiana sighed.
As they went back inside Ada saw Charlotte looking out through the brightly lit window of the drawing room. She shivered.
The next day, as the guests prepared to leave, Ada was in the hall when Cooper murmured in her ear that Douglas Varley wished to speak with her in the library.
Ada nodded, though her heart sank. She moved toward the door. There, leaning against the frame, was Ravi. She tried not to catch his eye. She could not let him influence her away from her duty. But although he stepped aside politely to let her pass, she felt his gaze burning into the
back of her neck as she walked down the corridor.
“I am going to accept Douglas Varley.” She said it aloud, to try and make herself believe it. Her voice came out small and trembling.
She was determined not to look back, but she could not help one glance, just as she turned the corner. Ravi was still watching her. She quickly looked away, her heart beating, and half ran the rest of the way to the library.
She paused to catch her breath and smooth down her dress before she opened the door. Of course she was going to accept him. What choice did she have? There was no future with Ravi. No matter what he said, no matter how he made her feel, it was impossible. At least, if she married Varley, she would see Ravi sometimes. Perhaps they could continue to meet secretly.…
She shook her head in horror. She was actually contemplating behaving dishonestly, marrying Varley in cold blood with the intention of betraying him. What had come over her? Perhaps she was making a horrible mistake.
She could hesitate no longer. She opened the door, and with a deep breath, walked in.
Douglas Varley shook out the newspaper he had been reading and put it down. He rose from his chair, a self-satisfied expression on his face. Ada found herself staring at his wispy, dead-mouse mustache. The memory of her kiss with Ravi rushed back, the memory of his lips. Kissing Varley would repulse her. She knew this completely.
“Ada, I’m delighted to see you alone at last. I’ve spoken to your father.”
So this was it. This was the moment of truth. How could she be so undecided, in the most important decisions of her life? But she realized, as Mr. Varley went on speaking, that if she was undecided, he was anything but.
“There is nothing to stand in our way, so I suggest a summer wedding, it will be an excellent opportunity to bring many influential men together—”
“Mr. Varley, I must stop you,” Ada burst out in a panic. “You have entirely the wrong impression.”
“Oh?” One of his substantial eyebrows rose.
Ada swallowed; her voice seemed to have soaked away into her dry throat. But she finally found it. “I am very sorry to disappoint you,” she went on, trembling. “I truly respect you and feel the honor you have done me by proposing. But I cannot accept.”
There, it was out. She had done it.
Douglas Varley stared at her in silence.
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
“I cannot accept.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought you said. Lady Ada, I don’t know if you understand that your father is entirely in favor of this match.”
“I do, I do understand that.” She moved forward. “But I cannot marry a man I do not love.”
“Love?” he said blankly. “My dear, you will have a house in Eaton Square. Think it over.”
“I have thought it over.” She was getting annoyed.
“Clearly not. Allow me to set your ideas in order.” He steepled his fingers as if preparing a speech. “All of your stepmother’s money is tied to the estate of Somerton, save that which is already settled on her children. Your only fortune is your face and your title.”
Ada fought to keep down her anger. She was suddenly certain she had done the right thing. Varley was not only physically repulsive to her, he was also an arrogant, high-handed man.
“I am sorry, but I am quite decided,” she said. “Please spare us both further pain by accepting my reply as final.”
He stepped back as if he had been slapped.
“Very well.” His voice was full of resentment. “If I’d known you were such a childish little thing I would never have proposed. Your father is at fault for leading me to believe you were an intelligent girl.”
“I am. That is why I am refusing you! Oh—” Ada put a hand to her mouth, a shocked, nervous giggle escaping her. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Varley. I didn’t mean that as it sounded.”
“Enough!” He had turned a shade of purple. “Westlake’s a bloody fool to throw his friends over like this, God knows he needs them now more than ever.”
Ada was suddenly not laughing anymore.
“Sir—”
“Good afternoon, Lady Ada!” He strode to the door and went out, shutting it with a bang that shook the dictionaries on the shelf.
Ada, left alone, put her hands to her face. She felt as if she had been left in the aftermath of an earthquake.
“Oh, what have I done?” she said aloud. She was trembling. Varley’s words had frightened her.
“Ada?”
She hadn’t heard the library door open. Her father was already halfway across the room toward her. “What has happened? What’s the matter? I saw Mr. Varley storm past without a word….”
At the concern in his voice, Ada almost burst into tears.
“Papa—I’m so sorry—Mr. Varley asked me to marry him, and I refused him.”
“You refused him?” Her father’s brow creased, and Ada knew he was startled and upset.
“Yes. I’m sorry!”
“Oh, Ada!” he exclaimed. He took a few angry paces.
“I’m sorry, Papa. I wanted to accept for your sake, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t! I don’t love him. Our marriage would have been a lie.”
She put her face in her hands again and sobbed. The worst thing was the guilt. Not only had she ruined her father’s chances of returning to politics, but she had met Ravi without his knowledge, and she hadn’t ended the relationship. If her father knew the things she had done…
She felt him take her hands gently.
“There, there. Don’t cry. It’s done now, and can’t be helped.”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“No, no.” He was silent. “It’s true it would have been…helpful, if you had felt differently, but you mustn’t think I want you to be unhappy. Fiona led me to think that you liked him, and when I saw you greet him yesterday you seemed quite overcome.… I confess I thought it would work.”
Ada was at first embarrassed that her father had noticed her reaction to Ravi’s arrival and confused it for passion for Mr. Varley, and then angry at the thought of her stepmother meddling in her life. Already.
“Mrs. Templeton—I mean, Lady Westlake said that?”
“Yes, but she was clearly wrong. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You have plenty of time to make a brilliant match. Your first season is still ahead of you. It’s a good thing that Charlotte is here; she will be able to bring you out of yourself. I keep telling you, sweetheart. You’re too bookish for a young girl, it isn’t healthy.”
Ada swallowed. Perhaps this was as good a moment as any to test the water.
“Some girls do read books and still marry, Papa. Some even—even go to university.”
Her father laughed. “University! It’s quite useless—what do they imagine they’re going to do with a degree? You would do better to spend three years studying how to run a household under Mrs. Cliffe.”
Ada managed a halfhearted smile. Her father stroked her hair.
“No, your first season should be all gaiety. No doubt by the end of it you’ll be settled and off my hands.” He smiled. “Being married gives you all kinds of opportunities to support your husband in his career. You will be busy hosting benefit galas, putting a word in the ear of the most important people…an intelligent wife can be a real help to an ambitious man.”
“I see,” said Ada quietly. She knew her father loved her, but he didn’t seem to want to understand her. She did not want to be a man’s helper. She wanted her own life.
“I’m glad.” He patted her shoulder. “Now I must get back to Fiona. This is the first day of our married life, you’ll remember. Dry your eyes and come back downstairs as soon as you can.”
The door closed behind him, and he left Ada alone in the library.
The storm of emotion had passed, and she felt she was looking at a clear view, even if it was not the one she had wanted to see. She had never expected her father to support her in her desire to go to Oxford. But now she knew what he did w
ant. He wanted her to marry well—brilliantly, in fact. Perhaps if she did that, going to Oxford would be possible. Perhaps.
She did not regret refusing Varley. But if she were not to be forced by her stepmother into a marriage with someone little better, she had to make a success of the season and find a husband who her father and society would entirely approve of. And an Indian student with no prospects was not such a husband.
There was no choice in the matter. She had to forget Ravi.
“Sir, I really think you should slow down!” Oliver shouted above the roar of the engine. The dirt and dust of the road rattled by and the hedgerows passed in a blur of green.
Sebastian glanced at him, an exhilarated grin on his face. He looked like a Greek god in his chariot, golden and vengeful.
“Ah, come on, Oliver. Don’t you like to live dangerously?” he shouted back.
He held Oliver’s eyes for just a second longer than was necessary before the De Dion–Bouton reached the next bend and he had to look back at the road. It was just long enough for Oliver’s heartbeat to speed up in response. He looked away, pressing his lips together to stifle an answering, unvaletlike smile. You don’t know the half of it, he thought.
“Where are we going, sir?” He glanced back at the picnic hamper in the back.
Sebastian pulled the car to the side of the road, slammed on the brakes, and brought them to a shuddering halt. The silence was like a thunderclap. Oliver blinked at the blue sky. Small noises like the birds in the trees and the creaking noise of the car’s metal became audible in the sudden stillness.
They had stopped on a patch of grass surrounded by willows and small shrubs. Oliver climbed down, aware of his dusty face and the hot sun making him sweat inside his uniform. Sebastian got down too. He brushed his blond fringe from his sweaty forehead and, with another provocative—at least, Oliver thought it was provocative—glance at Oliver, strode toward the trees.
Oliver hesitated before following. He went to the car and lifted out the picnic basket. One thing was for sure, he was not going to make the same mistake as last time. Caution was everything.
Cinders & Sapphires (At Somerton) Page 8
