by Mary Balogh
Unable to bear it a moment longer, she made to hurry on past him, but she forgot the ice, and in her anger was unwary. Her boot slid from beneath her, and her ankle twisted agonizingly. With a cry of pain she began to fall, but with great presence of mind he caught her around the waist.
The pain was so great that for a moment she almost passed out. Her face was drained of color, and it was all she could do to cling weakly to him.
“It’s all right. I have you,” he said, holding her firmly.
She closed her eyes as another agonizing stab rushed hotly through her.
He glanced down at her pallor, and immediately swept her up into his arms, his cane falling unheeded to the flagstones. “I’ll carry you home,” he said, beginning to walk toward the steps leading up to Berkeley Street.
“No… !” She tried to pull away.
“Don’t be foolish, Marianne. You can’t possibly walk on an ankle you’ve just twisted badly. You may not want me to help you, but I’m afraid you’re just going to have to put up with it.”
She fought back tears of pain and frustration, but had no option but to link her arms around his neck, and allow him to carry her home.
The maid picked up his cane from the floor, and then hurried after them. As they reached the top of the steps she went ahead of them, rousing the household to action. By the time Piers had carried Marianne into the entrance hall, a running footman had already been dispatched to bring the doctor.
Mr. Cromwell was waiting anxiously inside, and he stared in astonishment when he saw who was carrying his injured daughter into the house. “You?”
“Yes, sir. Me, sir,” Piers replied, laying Marianne down carefully on the sofa before the hall fire, and then straightening to look at her father. “Do not concern yourself unduly, sir, for I assure you that I am as intent upon leaving again as you are to see me go.” Bowing, he turned on his heel and strode from the house, snatching up his cane from a table as he went. Marianne managed to hold back the tears until the door had closed behind him, but then she hid her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling as she began to sob. All the heartache and wretchedness of the past was with her again, as was the full force of her love. For a long and unhappy year she had striven to come to terms with what had happened, but now she was back at the beginning again, as if his betrayal had taken place only yesterday.
———
As dusk fell that afternoon, it began to snow lightly again, and from her candlelit bedroom at the rear of the house, Marianne could see the flakes drifting slowly past the balcony and through the bare branches of the walnut tree against the wall.
She was propped up in her four-poster bed, with her hair brushed loose about the shoulders of her ribboned nightgown. She had a huge mound of pillows, between which soothing muslin bags of lavender had been slipped, and she had just been persuaded by her maid to drink another infusion of valerian and honey. The doctor had earlier prescribed a compress of comfrey root for her ankle, and had warned her that it would be at least a week before she would be able to walk comfortably again.
Her father had sat with her for most of the afternoon, but had gone downstairs now because a friend had called upon him. Her maid was tidying the dressing table.
A fire flickered in the hearth, sending dancing shadows over the blue-and-white-striped walls, and the golden ormulu clock on the mantelpiece chimed sweetly.
Marianne stared out at the gathering darkness. The sunset had been magnificent, a glory of crimson and gold in a frozen sky. A true February sunset. But the snow clouds had crept in from the east, seeming almost to have been stealthy in their approach, as if they wished to catch London unprepared.
Marianne’s lips twisted wryly. Being caught unprepared had been her speciality today. Oh, plague take Piers for having returned, for it made consideration of the match with Brandon all that much more difficult. And plague take her own foolishness, not only for still being vulnerable to Piers, but also for being so clumsy as to slip on the ice and wrench her ankle like this.
The maid went to draw the curtains at the French doors that gave onto the balcony, and as she did so she gave a startled gasp. “Miss Marianne! Someone is climbing up the tree!” she cried.
Marianne’s lips parted and her eyes widened. Only one person had ever climbed that tree. Surely it couldn’t be… ? As she looked, a shadowy figure clambered over the edge of the balcony. She saw in a moment that it was Piers.
The maid gave a squeak of alarm, and turned to hurry from the room, but he had come inside before she reached the door, and his gray eyes went swiftly and warningly to Marianne. “Arouse the whole house if you wish, but I will swear I came by invitation.”
She put out a hand to halt the maid. “Wait!”
“But Miss Marianne!”
“He means it, and I have my reputation to consider.” Marianne looked at him. “How dare you come here like this, sirrah! How dare you!”
“I dare because things must be clarified between us,” he replied, tossing his top hat and gloves down upon the dressing table, and then removing his heavy Polish greatcoat. Beneath it he wore an indigo coat and cream kerseymere trousers. His gilt spurs jingled slightly as he moved, and the tassels at the front of his Hessian boots swung from side to side. There was a sapphire pin in the folds of his neckcloth, and it flashed in the candlelight as he faced her. “Marianne, I don’t want to be at odds with you, and I apologize for climbing up to your bedroom like this, but I thought it was probably the only way I’d manage to speak to you. Would you have received me had I called at the front door?”
“No.”
“Then my audacity was justified.”
“Justified? Piers, you may think things need clarifying between us, but as far as I’m concerned they are already crystal clear. I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. You hurt me far too much for that.”
He came to the foot of the bed. “I know, and I am truly sorry.”
“Are you? I doubt that very much.”
“I am sorry, Marianne, whether you choose to believe it or not, and all I want now is to be sure that any future encounters we may have will not be as vitriolic and disagreeable as that which took place today in Lansdowne Passage. I said then that I hoped we could be civil to each other, and that is still my wish. I don’t think it is a great deal to ask, especially as we are bound to meet socially.”
“Provided I accept invitations, or indeed choose to go out at all.”
He searched her face. “Do you hate me so much that you would prefer to imprison yourself indoors rather than risk seeing me?”
She didn’t reply. Hate him? Oh, if only he knew the sorry truth!
He breathed out slowly. “I really am sorry for my past actions, Marianne, but what was done was done, and now we have to go on. Can’t we at least show ourselves capable of conducting ourselves with decorum from now on?”
“I will be polite if we meet, sir, but I would prefer it if we both did everything in our power to avoid each other.” I’m going to deny you the chance to hurt me any more than absolutely necessary.
“As you wish.” He turned away from her, and as he did his glance went to something on the dressing table. It was the valentine card, which had been put out in readiness to give to Chloe, who had sent word that she would call later to see how Marianne was.
Marianne’s gaze followed his, and her heart sank in dismay. Would he recognize the design? Please, don’t let him…
Picking the card up, he studied it for a moment and then looked at her. “Is this for Forrester?” he asked.
“No. Actually I’ve made it for a friend of mine to give to her sweetheart.” Marianne’s cheeks were aflame.
The faintest of smiles played fleetingly upon his lips as he replaced the card. “I’m relieved to hear it, for it wouldn’t do for Forrester to be as honored as I was.”
“He would deserve it more.”
“I think not.”
She met his gaze squarely. “What a shabby v
alentine you were, putting your ring upon my finger, and then taking yourself off to Elizabeth Lavery’s bountiful charms.”
“It wasn’t as simple as that.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it was every bit as simple as that.”
“Marianne, I—”
He broke off, for the maid, who was still by the door, gave a sudden gasp. “Miss Marianne, your father is coming!”
Marianne’s heart sank with dismay, and she looked imploringly at Piers. “Please go!”
For the space of a heartbeat he gazed into her eyes, but then he turned to snatch up his things and step out onto the balcony. The maid ran to close the French doors behind him, and drew the curtains just as Mr. Cromwell tapped at the bedroom door and came in.
———
Later that evening a carriage drew up at the curb in Berkeley Street, and Miss Chloe Pendeven alighted. She wore a fuchsia-pink pelisse and matching gown, and there were ostrich plumes springing from her pretty gray silk hat. Her hair was the color of honey, she had a flawless complexion unmarred by a single freckle, and her eyes were wide and blue. Since her arrival from her father’s immense estate in the Forest of Dean, she had become justifiably acknowledged as one of London’s most beautiful young women. Her admirers among the gentlemen were legion, as were her friends among the ladies, but Marianne was her closest confidante, and the two had become inseparable over the past six months.
She was shown directly up to the bedroom, and Marianne gave a glad smile as she entered.
“Chloe! Oh, it’s good to see you.”
Chloe hurried to the bedside and took her hands. “Poor you. How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting down on the blue-and-white coverlet and looking concernedly into Marianne’s eyes.
“I’m furious with myself for not taking more care,” Marianne replied. She had decided not to say anything about Piers, not because she didn’t trust Chloe, but rather because she was afraid she’d give herself away if she spoke about him. She gave a bright smile. “Now then, what was it you summoned me for so urgently earlier today?”
Chloe released her hands, and then sat more comfortably. “Actually there are two things, but first of all I must know how on earth you came to grief today. I know that you twisted your ankle, but that is all I know.”
“I was on my way to see you as planned, and I slipped on the ice in Lansdowne Passage.”
Chloe searched her face suspiciously. “And that is all?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I know when you are keeping something from me. Something happened in Lansdowne Passage, didn’t it?”
“No.”
“Fibber. Tell me, for if you don’t, I will only keep on and on until you do.”
Marianne lowered her eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“You’re upset, and I want to help if I can.”
“You can’t help. No one can.” The temptation to confide suddenly swept over Marianne. “You know that I was once betrothed to Sir Piers Sutherland?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I thought he was still in America, but he’s here in London, and I bumped into him in Lansdowne Passage. We… had words, and I was so angry that I quite forgot the ice and slipped.”
There was a rather odd expression on Chloe’s face. “Your tone would seem to suggest that you haven’t forgiven him for what happened.”
“Forgiven him? Certainly not. He actually had the gall to imply that he had suffered on account of it.”
“Perhaps he did. Perhaps he regrets it all now.”
“That’s what he says, but it’s all very well to be apologetic after the event. He said sweet words to me, and then bedded the most expensive doxy in London.”
Chloe was taken aback by such frankness. “Marianne!”
“Well, it’s true. He did bed her. That Lavery creature is a belle de nuit, and he was pleased to add himself to her legendary list of lovers. No one requested him to do it, no one forced him or threatened him, he chose to climb into her amazingly accommodating bed. Suffer? Him? No, he didn’t endure anything at all, but I was made unutterably wretched and unhappy, and I will never ever forgive him.”
Chloe was startled by her vehemence. “I… I had no idea you still felt so strongly about it.”
“Oh, it’s just the fact that I’ve seen him again. Twice in one day.” As she said this last, Marianne could have bitten off her tongue, for the visit to her bedroom was most definitely not for further transmission.
But it was too late. “Twice in one day?” Chloe repeated.
Marianne pressed her lips together, angry with herself all over again.
Chloe looked intently at her. “You may as well tell me, for I will only be like the proverbial dog with the proverbial bone.”
Marianne drew a long breath. “Earlier this evening, he climbed up the walnut tree to this room.”
Chloe blinked. “He what?”
“I’m not repeating it.”
“He actually climbed up to your balcony?”
“Yes, but not in the finest romantic tradition, I assure you. He merely wished to ensure that in future I would be civil to him. And he wished to say that he was sorry for the past.”
“That is surely something, isn’t it? Well, isn’t it?”
“Oh, Chloe, I’m sure that he only wishes to be certain of avoiding an uncomfortable scene in some fashionable drawing room. No doubt he doesn’t wish the world to recall the cause of our parting.”
“You aren’t very reasonable where he is concerned, are you?”
“No, and it isn’t surprising, given his actions, past and present.”
Chloe was silent for a moment. “Marianne, are you quite sure it is over between you? I mean—”
“It’s most definitely over,” Marianne interrupted quickly. “He feels nothing for me, and I despise him. That is the end of it. Besides, I’m now considering another match.”
Chloe was astonished. “Another match? You sly boots, why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“Because I only knew about it today myself. It isn’t another match, exactly, but rather an old one revitalized It’s with Brandon Forrester.”
“I see.” Chloe lowered her gaze for a moment.
“Father is quite determined that I will accept this time.”
“And will you?”
“I’ve promised to think about it. Oh, enough of me, let’s talk about you instead. What were those two things you wished to discuss?”
“There is only one thing.”
Marianne was surprised. “But you said there were two.”
“Did I? I can’t imagine why.” Chloe shifted a little uncomfortably.
“Chloe, is something wrong?”
“Er, no. Actually, as far as I am concerned, everything is wonderful. Well, nearly wonderful.”
“How can something be nearly wonderful?” Marianne asked, smiling.
“When one is head over heels in love, but one’s father is set against a match.”
Marianne stared at her. “Tell me about it.”
“I’ve met a gentleman who means everything to me, and I’m more in love than I ever dreamed possible. You know him socially, and I fear you won’t approve any more than father does.”
“Why? Who is he?”
“Jerry Frobisher.”
Marianne’s eyes widened. “The Jerry Frobisher?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Marianne was dismayed, for Sir Jeremy Frobisher’s high spirits were always getting him into one fix or another, and his luck at the gaming tables was nothing short of phenomenal.
Chloe looked defiantly at her. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. And so is Father.”
“Chloe, Jerry Frobisher’s name is a positive byword in society.”
“It was a byword. Marianne, he’s a reformed character now, and all he wants is to make me-happy.”
“Leopards do not change their spots.”
“They do, Marianne. In
fact, a surprising number of them do,” Chloe added a little mysteriously.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing.” Chloe looked at her again. “We are deeply in love, Marianne, and he means it when he says he has changed his ways, but as soon as I mentioned him to Father, there was a dreadful fuss.”
“I can imagine.”
“Jerry isn’t after me for my inheritance, Marianne, for he has ample fortune of his own, and he has won far more at the gaming tables than he has ever lost.”
“That much is true,” Marianne conceded.
“Anyway, the outcome is that Father is now taking me home to Severn Park, in order to separate me from Jerry.”
“Oh, Chloe…”
“I’m so low about it all, Marianne, for in the space of only a week or so my whole world has been turned upside down.”
“Yes. So who is the sly boots now, mm?” Marianne leaned over to put a comforting hand on her friend’s. “How did you meet him?”
“At a ball at Devonshire House about three weeks ago. We danced a waltz, and that was that.” Chloe smiled ruefully. “I’ve never danced such a wonderful waltz before.”
“And now you’re sunk?”
“Shipwrecked completely.”
“To the point of wishing to give him the most adoring valentine imaginable?” Marianne pointed to the card on the dressing table.
Chloe got up quickly and went to examine it. “Oh, Marianne, it’s quite perfect! And the verse is just right. You’re so clever, much more clever than I will ever be. It’s almost as if you were me.”
Marianne looked away, for if the card and its sentiments were the result of her own foolish love two years before, then of course it was perfect for Chloe’s situation now. But maybe Chloe’s love for Jerry Frob-isher wasn’t foolish, maybe he had turned over a new leaf and was all that Chloe believed him to be.
“Chloe, are you quite sure Jerry has mended his ways?”
“Oh, beyond all shadow of doubt.”
Marianne smiled. “Then I wish you every happiness, and if I can help in any way, you have only to ask.”
“I wish you could help, for my father likes you immensely, and actually pays attention to what you have to say.”
