by M C Beaton
He looked straight across the room at his wife and his face turned a dull red. Sally, who had begun by smiling brightly, slowly looked from one to the other and her smile slowly faded.
“You are looking very well, Andrew,” said Mrs. Porteous, walking forward and kissing him on the cheek. She seemed completely unaware of the consternation on her husband’s red face and the white-faced dismay on Sally’s. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise? I have his lordship, the Marquis of Charrington’s traveling carriage outside, ready to convey us to London and from thence to the north. The Duke is anxious to have you back, Andrew. Now, we shall just go to your room and start your packing.”
Mr. Porteous pulled himself together with a great effort. “I am glad to see you, Abigail. You have met her ladyship already. May I present Miss Byles, a guest of her ladyship?”
Mrs. Porteous sank into a deep curtsey but her rather vague eyes never left her husband’s face. “The boys will be glad to see their Papa,” she went on. “Come, Andrew.”
She curtsied to Jennie and again to Sally and then drifted from the room. “Come, Andrew,” she said again, her light colorless voice floating in from the hall.
Mr. Porteous took a step towards Sally, who immediately backed away, staring at him, her blue eyes wide with shock.
“Ah, weel,” quoted Mr. Porteous with a heavy sigh. “’How happy could I be with either, were t’other dear charmer away.’ Aye, just so.”
With that, he walked heavily from the room. Both girls stood staring at each other, listening to the slow, heavy tread of his footsteps as he followed his wife upstairs.
“Jennie!” whispered Sally desperately.
“No!” said Jennie fiercely. “Not here. Do not let the servants see your distress. We shall go outside to the garden.”
Both girls left the room in silence and met again in the hall, after they had changed into long cloaks and put calashes over their bonnets to protect them from the rain and heavy wooden pattens over their slippers.
In silence they walked around the side of the house, down a few mossy steps into the rose garden and along a cinder path where an antique sundial dripped rainwater like tears, as if mourning the loss of sunny days.
The sky seemed to press down upon the house, flat and sodden and gray. The rose garden was very still and silent except for the steady patter of rainwater falling on the leaves.
“Now, Sally…” said Jennie.
“He promised to marry me,” said Sally, her voice a dismal echo of the gray weather.
“Did he exactly promise?”
“Not in so many words. Just things like we should spend our days in each other’s arms. I feel dirty.”
“You didn’t… I mean, you couldn’t…” began Jennie.
“Lose my maidenhead, you mean,” said Sally with a harsh laugh. “No, thank God. Oh, Perry, how I have misjudged you.”
“Does Perry come into this?” queried Jennie.
“He has written to me every day,” said Sally in a low, intense voice. “Long, long letters of love and devotion and Andrew and I used to read them together and laugh at them and sometimes I would feel ashamed and start to defend Perry and then he, Andrew, would take me in his arms and make love to me and I would forget everything else. What am I to do, Jennie? I’m so ashamed.”
The tears dripped down Sally’s face and the rainwater dripped down the sundial and water ran down Jennie’s cloak and dripped inside her pattens and she felt she had never been so young or helpless before.
“You must stay out of the road until Mr. Porteous leaves,” said Jennie at last. “He is not worth crying over. You know, Sally, when you were so upset about Perry choosing your trousseau, you should have told him so and then tried to work something out. And I… I should have told Chemmy all about the Charrington diamonds. I should have told him I was never really in love with Guy. But I’m frightened… frightened in case I tell him and… and it turns out to mean nothing to him after all.
“I’m in love with him, I’m frightened he will never love me… I’m frightened he is trying to kill me. He said Guy was the one who put that spike in my saddle but then… that awful man in Vole Lane said Chemmy had paid him. But how can one love someone and still believe that person to be a villain? Chemmy is so easy-going and amiable and yet he sometimes betrays an intensity which frightens me. And I don’t understand Guy any more. He somehow seems shallow and I know now that it was a shocking thing to do to suggest I should set up a flirt. I don’t know what to do. You’re not listening to a word of this, poor Sally. Shall we try to bring our gentlemen here? Shall we have a ball? Shall we, Sally? We’ll invite all the county and send to London for Perry and Chemmy and we’ll wear our prettiest ball gowns and you shall forget that dreadful Mr. Porteous.”
“I-I don’t care about anything,” wailed Sally. “I’m going to die.”
“No, you’re not, you silly goose. Come with me now and we shall go to the greenhouses and steam ourselves dry and admire the fruit and so pass the weary time. I shall not take my leave of Mr. Porteous. He was a very good tutor and I am grateful to him for saving my life but he has abused my hospitality by trying to seduce my friend and I feel too young and embarrassed to cope. Oh, why isn’t Chemmy here! He should have guessed the appearance of Mrs. Porteous would be a dreadful shock!”
“Shock tactics, that’s why,” said the Marquis of Charrington, smiling at his friend Perry’s agitated face. “And it worked, did it not? Sally has written begging you to attend the ball.”
“But to trust your wife and Sally alone with a man known to be a philanderer…” began Perry.
The two men were seated in the Marquis’ drawing room.
Chemmy smiled. “It seems that our Mr. Porteous was nothing but a harmless ladykiller who received every encouragement from Sally. I already knew enough of his character to know that, despite this one shortcoming, he would make an ideal watchdog for my wife.”
“And an ideal seducer for my fiancée,” grated Perry.
“Cheer up, man,” said the Marquis. “It has all worked out for the best. If I do not seem overmuch concerned about your worries, it is because I have many of my own. I received a letter this morning from Alice Waring. It seems that Guy Chalmers plotted to ruin Jennie so that he might inherit the grandfather’s estate and, having failed to do that, has been trying to keep myself and my wife at loggerheads so that we do not produce heirs. I also believe he has been trying to murder her. Although Jennie’s attacker in Vole Lane failed in his mission, it was a stroke of genius to accuse me of being behind the attempt.
“At first I thought Chalmers was simply trying to seduce Jennie and I even gave him the credit for being in love with her! Later I began to suspect he might be playing a deeper game. I have been very unfair to Jennie and now I fear for her safety. Had I thought for a minute that Chalmers was such a villain I would not have waited in the wings so calmly, letting things take their course.”
“I shall call him out!” said Perry, leaping to his feet.
“No, no,” said the Marquis. “Sit down, my fire-eating friend. We shall draw him. Jennie has added a postscript to her letter telling me that Guy has not been invited to the ball. You and I, my friend, shall go in search of Mr. Chalmers and I shall let him know that I am about to terminate this marriage of convenience and turn it into a love match. We shall tell him of the ball. I shall tell my steward to call off the guards at Runbury Manor and mark my words, Guy will turn up on the night of the ball, hell-bent on murder. Jennie will never believe my accusations unless he is unmasked before her eyes for the villain that he is.”
“But Chalmers has gone to earth,” said Perry. “No one has seen him about.”
“I have news from my spies,” said Chemmy, “that he has been frequenting the gin palaces of Tothill. We shall no doubt find him there. We shall be very friendly and a shade patronizing and a little bit triumphant. That should get him.”
“You are exposing your wife to a great deal of danger,” said P
erry severely, but the Marquis only laughed. “She will be closely guarded, I assure you. I feel this comedy of errors is drawing to a close. There is nothing like old-fashioned marriage, after all, Perry. You should try it.”
“I mean to,” said Perry grimly. “But first let us hunt down the elusive Mr. Chalmers…”
The rain hammered relentlessly down on the mean and narrow streets of Tothill, one of London’s less salubrious areas.
“Is there no end to this search,” complained Perry. “My very clothes are beginning to stink. We have crawled in and out of a dozen low kens these past two hours and have seen neither hide nor hair of Mr. Chalmers.”
“Patience,” was all the Marquis would say. Perry looked at his big friend. The Marquis appeared to have recovered all of his unflappable amiability. His morning dress was as exquisite as ever and, in fact, his attire looked more suitable for paying a call on Carlton House than for searching around the stews of this most depressing of areas, where the occupants lurched around the streets in the last stages of rags and filth and degradation.
Perry could only be thankful that the Marquis had decided to make his search in his closed carriage.
At last the Marquis rapped on the roof of the coach with his cane and the carriage lurched to a halt.
Peering through the rain-streaked window, Perry saw the red latticed windows of another tavern called The Jolly Beggars. Both men climbed down into the full violence of the rain.
The Marquis bent his head and ducked into the low doorway of the inn. He pushed open the inner door which led to the taproom. “Found!” he muttered under his breath. Perry stood on tiptoe and peered over the Marquis’ broad shoulder.
Guy Chalmers was lounging in a settle beside the inn fireplace. A slatternly tavern wench was sprawled on his knee and Guy was absentmindedly fondling her dirty breasts as he stared at the Marquis framed in the doorway. The rest of the company consisted of a group of five young bloods who were also sprawled about at their ease.
“What brings you here?” asked Guy with a fixed smile painted on his face.
“Why you, dear boy,” said the Marquis amiably. He looked down from his great height at two of the young bucks sprawled on the settle opposite Guy and said softly, “Do you mind if I sit down for a minute? I am extremely fatigued.”
They rose with their mouths open and shuffled slightly to one side.
“So kind,” said Chemmy, carefully dusting the settle with his handkerchief and sitting down. “And now my dear Guy. I have very good news for you. I know your concern for Jennie and I know you will be pleased. We have decided to terminate our marriage of convenience.”
“Divorce?” said Guy eagerly, pushing the dirty female off his lap so that she fell with a bump on the floor.
Chemmy raised his thin eyebrows. “Of course not,” he said earnestly. “On the contrary. Jennie and I have discovered that we are… er… very much in love.”
“Why are you telling me this?” said Guy harshly.
“To put your mind at ease,” said Chemmy, stretching out his long legs and sinking his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. “You have often told me how fond you are of her. So now you need have no more worries. She is happy and very much in love. We celebrate our bliss at this ball Jennie is holding at Runbury Manor.”
“So that is why she wrote to me and told me I must not attend,” said Guy savagely.
“She did?” The Marquis looked much amused. “Pity. But no doubt we shall see you around on some other occasion. I hope you do not object if we take our leave, Chalmers.” He took out a scented handkerchief and held it delicately under his nose. “The air in here is a trifling strong for me.”
Guy leaned back in the settle and said softly, “You have indeed ventured into a rough neighborhood, Marquis. You may leave any time you wish, but perhaps these others do not wish you to go.”
The other young men grinned at his words and pressed closer. One of them pushed his face close to the Marquis’ and said, “You ain’t going nowhere, pretty boy.”
The Marquis took his hand out of his pocket and, shaking back the ruffles of lace at his wrist, lazily pushed the leering face away.
“Keep your distance, fellow,” he said good-humoredly. “You stink abominably.”
The youth swung an ugly punch full at Chemmy’s face. The next minute his arm was seized and twisted and he found to his surprise that he was lying in the empty fireplace, staring up into the Marquis’ mocking eyes.
Guy’s dirty lady friend let out a squawk of fright and ran out of the inn.
“What’s up with you!” howled Guy. “There’s only two of them and one of ’em’s a little runt.”
There was a gasp of pure rage from Perry. Finding himself confronted by two of the bucks, his fist lashed out and bloodied one’s face. He then picked up the huge struggling bulk of the other as if he were holding a featherweight and threw him straight across the room, where he crashed full into Guy.
“How noisy it is here,” said Chemmy plaintively, getting to his feet.
He found his way to the door blocked by the remaining two, and got rid of that obstacle by crashing their heads together.
“Come, Perry,” he said. “An interesting entertainment, Mr. Chalmers.”
But Guy had fled.
Chapter Eleven
The sun sparkled down on Runbury Manor and summer seemed to return to the countryside. The old house was in a bustle of preparation for the ball to be held that evening.
Gardeners crossed and re-crossed the hall, carrying huge tubs of flowers. Men hammered and whistled from the south lawn, where a huge marquee was being erected to form a temporary ballroom, complete with polished wood floor. The servants worked with a will, having been promised their own ball the following week. Jeffries, the lady’s maid, led small guided tours of servants to view Jennie’s ball gown, which had been sent to her by her husband.
It was made of pale rose muslin, so fine as to be almost transparent. The underdress was of intricately embroidered rose silk. The small puffed sleeves were decorated with a tiny edging of small rosebuds and the deep flounces were trimmed with the same flowers. On a special stand on the dressing table were displayed the Charrington diamonds which John, Chemmy’s groom, had conveyed to the Manor himself. They had been accompanied by a brief note from the Marquis, who had simply stated that he hoped his wife would oblige him by wearing the jewels.
Jennie had read the note several times, wondering what her husband had been thinking when he sent them, happy one minute that he was coming to the ball, sad the next that he had not arrived sooner.
Sally, too, was disappointed that Perry had not rushed immediately to her side. He had sent a formal acceptance of Jennie’s invitation but there were no more passionate lover-like letters.
Both girls escaped to a far corner of the gardens in order to worry together in peace and quiet, each one voicing her own thoughts and not listening to the other.
“It’s not as if I really know Chemmy,” said Jennie sadly. “I’ve thought and thought about him so much that I cannot even remember what he looks like. Perhaps I should have asked Guy to the ball, after all. But I thought Chemmy would like it better if Guy wasn’t there. Do you think Chemmy can possibly be jealous of Guy?”
“I don’t understand Perry’s not arriving before this,” worried Sally aloud, not having paid the slightest heed to what Jennie was saying. “Did I ever love him? Did I ever love Andrew Porteous? Oh, I’m so upset and one thing is clear. I must marry someone. I shall be an old maid soon!”
“He thinks me mercenary,” said Jennie sadly, watching a blackbird tugging a worm from the lawn. “But he did send the diamonds. Has he forgiven me? Or does he think he is giving in to my greed. Oh, dear.”
“Oh, dear,” echoed Sally, and both girls relapsed into silence.
Jennie came out of her reverie to notice that a liveried footman was crossing the lawn towards her, carrying a long letter on a tray.
“It is probabl
y from one of our guests, who finds he is unable to make the journey,” she said to Sally as she broke open the letter without bothering to look at the seal.
“Oh, ’tis from Guy. Ooooh!” With dilating eyes, Jennie scanned the single sheet.
“Meet me on the far side of the lake at ten this evening,” Guy had written. “Your husband is trying to kill you so that he can marry Alice Waring. I have definite proof. An’ you love me, Jennie, do not fail me.”
“What is it?” demanded Sally.
“Nothing,” said Jennie quickly. “Do excuse me, Sally.”
She ran quickly to the house, her heart beating against her ribs. Which one should she trust? Guy, whom she had known since a child, or the enigmatic husband she loved despite her better judgement. And ten o’clock! The ball would be in full swing and all the guests would be there. I shall worry myself into a fever if I go on like this, thought poor Jennie. I must be very brave and pray that Guy has no proof at all and is simply talking nonsense.
The ball was a resounding success for everyone except Jennie and Sally. So many people turned up that one was in constant danger of having one’s gown torn off one’s back, thought Jennie. But society was never happier than when they were jammed together, elbow to elbow.
The Marquis of Charrington and his friend, Mr. Deighton, were still unaccountably absent. Jennie had carefully arranged her dance program so that she would be free at ten o’clock. She looked a stately little figure, every inch a marchioness, with the Charrington diamonds blazing in her hair and at her neck.
One minute it seemed as if ten o’clock would never arrive and the next minute it seemed, when she asked her partner the time, the dreaded hour had nearly arrived.
She suddenly wished she had confided in Sally, but Sally had never cared for Guy and would simply make her usual remark that Guy was jealous of Chemmy, nothing more.
At a few minutes before ten, Jennie slipped from the marquee-ballroom on the south lawn and made her way to the house. She left the diamonds in the care of the surprised Jeffries, explaining to the wondering lady’s maid that they were so heavy, they gave her a headache.
