She laughed. Somehow it was so easy to talk to him.
She was claimed then for the country dance, and did not see Lord Clifford again until the trio of musicians struck up for a waltz. He appeared at her side before she had time to look round for him, and swung her onto the floor.
Whenever she had danced the waltz before, usually with middle aged men at the Brighton balls at the Old Ship or Castle Assembly rooms, she had been stiff and awkward. It had not been pleasant to be clasped so closely in a man's arms. She had often detected traces of tobacco or brandy on their breath, or in their clothes, and some of the older men had tried to pull her indecorously close.
This time it was different. Lord Clifford held her loosely, almost impersonally, and she could detect only a mixture of cedar and sandalwood coming from his clothes. In his arms she relaxed, and found she could follow his steps easily as he whirled her round the room. She almost laughed, and was sorry when the dance ended.
He led her back to the side of the room where Lady Markby was chatting with Mrs Snaith, and they had almost reached the two ladies when Elizabeth halted in dismay. Sir Percy Royle was standing beside them.
'Elizabeth!' he exclaimed, coming forward and taking her hand before she could prevent it. 'I was so delighted to find you amongst the guests. You are the fairest, I vow.'
Mrs Snaith looked up and smiled.
'I hear you are old friends,' she said, clearly not aware of the whole story. 'Sir Percy tells me you were close at one time.'
Elizabeth bit back the retort that Sir Percy had hoped to be closer to her fortune than to her. Lord Clifford was still with her, and without conscious thought she clung to his arm.
'Pray excuse us, Mrs Snaith,' he said now. 'Your husband has offered to show Miss Markby some of his favourite plants, and I promised to take her to him. Your servant, Ma'am, Royle.'
'That was a hum,' Elizabeth said as he drew her out of the ballroom and into the conservatory.
She looked round her. The atmosphere was moist and warm, and the scents of the lush foliage somewhat overpowering. Lanterns had been lit amongst the profuse tropical plants, and several seats were arranged in convenient alcoves. A few of these were occupied, but Lord Clifford led the way to one rather more secluded.
'Would you rather run the risk of dancing with that fellow? I could see he was about to ask you and had to act quickly.'
'And I am grateful.' She sighed. 'I was enjoying myself, before he arrived.'
'But you neither swooned when you saw him, nor went as white as you did the other night. You are getting over your shock. You can meet him now, and despise him for the scoundrel he is. Don't permit him to ruin your enjoyment tonight.'
'Yes, it was not so bad as then, but I would still rather not be in the same room. I can't cut him, not when I am a guest here. But I will not dance with him! Not even if I have to offend him.'
'You should not worry about that. He treated you disgracefully, he cannot expect even common politeness from you.'
He changed the subject, and they talked of many things. He was, Elizabeth thought again, so easy to talk to. When they went back to the ballroom it was almost time for supper. Lord Clifford excused himself for a moment and went to talk to Mr Hardcastle, then came back to lead Elizabeth into the supper room, where he found them a small table. A few minutes later she saw Mr Hardcastle come in, Sir Percy with him.
Sir Percy saw her, and took a step towards her, but Mr Hardcastle grasped him firmly by the arm and led him to a table at the far side of the room, talking volubly. Without making a scene Sir Percy could not detach himself from that grip.
Elizabeth gave Lord Clifford a level stare.
'Did you contrive that?' she asked, and suddenly began to laugh.
'I? I merely recalled that Samuel Hardcastle said he had a few matters to discuss with Sir Percy. Their lands adjoin, and there have been a few disputes about boundaries, and such matters. What an excellent opportunity for them to talk.'
'You are a complete hand!'
'Miss Markby! Such language. Would you care for some more salmon pasties?'
*
Lord Clifford noted, with some satisfaction, that Sir Percy departed early from the ball. He had previously known the man only as a neighbour, and Sir Percy had not mingled much in local society for some time after his wife's death. As she had been ailing for some time, Lord Clifford had never met her. Now he knew the story of the man's treatment of Elizabeth he determined that Sir Percy would not be made welcome at any house where he had influence. The man had other property, he understood, in Yorkshire, and perhaps he could be induced to remove there if he felt unwelcome in Hampshire.
Annamarie had behaved reasonably well at the ball, to his relief, though she seemed to have accorded Sir Henry only one country dance. Though Lady Palgrave had told her she was not to waltz, he had seen her doing so, if a little ineptly, with young Felix Snaith. Well, at a private dance, it would do little harm, and he did not wish to be on worse terms with his ward.
He was remaining at Crossways for a few days after his guests left, and was disconcerted to realize how much he would miss Elizabeth. Her dismay at the thought of her brother being betrothed to Annamarie, and her seriousness, had at first awoken in him a reprehensible desire to tease her, to try to make her more light hearted. He had been quite certain Annamarie's infatuation for Henry would die, as had her other temporary caprices, and had anticipated no harm in pretending to approve the match.
Since he knew something of Elizabeth's history he regretted the impulse to tease. She seemed, now, to trust him. And his feelings for her had grown from initial attraction to a deep admiration. Was it love? Or was it only a desire to kiss her and hold her in his arms? Though pursued by many women, he was sure he had never been in love. He wasn't certain what it involved, what he should be feeling, but if it meant wishing to protect her from all hurt, and to be with her always, perhaps that was love. He just did not know, and there was no one he could ask. His army friends would scoff. He could scarcely ask any of the women with whom he had in the past enjoyed light flirtations, and sometimes more serious liaisons. Many of the married men he knew had, he suspected, wed more from dynastic considerations of uniting property or providing heirs than romantic love.
He would soon be back in Brighton, and would have a few weeks there before he had to return to Crossways, and Elizabeth to Kent. If he could not resolve this dilemma by then, he was probably not in love. Time would have to tell.
*
Brighton was dull, Elizabeth decided. Many of the ton had left to go to their country estates or back to London. The weather was wet and cold, making the idea of riding up on the Downs unwelcome. Yet she wanted more than anything to escape, and riding was almost the only way of doing that.
She visited Felicity, braving the weather to drive to her house, and told her most of what had happened at Crossways. Even to Felicity she could not confess to weeping into Lord Clifford's cravat, nor that embrace when she had been so certain she was about to be kissed.
Felicity was more perceptive than Elizabeth had credited her.
'Are you in love with him?' she demanded bluntly.
Elizabeth felt the warm tide suffuse her cheeks.
'In love? Felicity, I thought I was in love once. That was enough for me. I do not intend to make that mistake twice. Besides, he has not indicated any preference for me, he has just been polite and considerate.'
'That's a bag of moonshine! Percy Royle was a scoundrel, but you were too young to see it, and your father was already ill, or he'd never have consented to such a hasty engagement. Lord Clifford is different.'
'How? Are not all men capable of deceit when there is something they want?'
'In the first place, he is wealthy, he doesn't need your fortune. So you can dismiss that suspicion. He is handsome, and from what you have told me, kind and sensible. I suspect he has warmer feelings for you than you allow. What more do you want?'
'Felicity, I don't kno
w! I've avoided men for eight years, discouraged any signs even of liking. I know I have a reputation in Kent for being cold and unapproachable, but I am so terrified of being hurt again.'
'If you are not to spend the best years of your life tied to your mother, and then when she dies, being alone and probably old, you must overcome your fears. Elizabeth dear, I don't usually criticize Lady Markby, but you must admit she is a selfish, despotic, uncaring tyrant.'
Elizabeth laughed.
'Oh yes, I freely admit that! I have to try and see some humour in her demands in order to endure them. But apart from Henry I am all she has.'
'And she much prefers Henry,' Felicity said bluntly. 'Mothers usually do prefer their sons, even when it is their daughters who give up everything for them. Is he going to devote his life to pandering to her?'
'He's a man,' Elizabeth said, and knew it was a weak reply even before Felicity burst into laughter.
'And you have read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman! Shame on you.'
'But Wollstonecraft stresses the duty of women in the family.'
'In marriage, yes. Elizabeth, you know I love you and want what's best for you. If you love someone and can trust him, don't allow your mother to prevent you from being happy! You have sometimes said a paid companion could do for her what you do. She'd probably treat them better too, if she thought they might leave her! So if Lord Clifford proposes, for goodness' sake accept him.'
*
Lord Clifford stared gloomily from the window. It was still raining. Hardly the weather to take Elizabeth riding or driving. But he could invite her and her mother to dine with them, next week, he thought. If he could not have her to himself at least he might be in the same room with her. He walked over to his desk and penned a note, and sent a footman to deliver it.
When an immediate acceptance came his mood lightened, and he caught Dawson looking at him with a speculative gleam in his eye. He didn't care. The past few days, without Elizabeth's company, had been tedious and somehow he had felt incomplete. He decided it must be love. His next problem was what to do about it. He was certain he did not wish to live without her, so he had to marry her. Once more he pondered how and when he should make an offer. She had no father, and the very notion of speaking to Henry was absurd. Should he talk first to Lady Markby, try to win her round to his side? Yet if she, afraid of losing Elizabeth, objected, would Elizabeth heed her? It would, he decided, be best to offer to Elizabeth herself. But the problem of getting her alone, while this damnable weather persisted, was not easy.
When another acquaintance told him that the constant rain had made him decide to leave Brighton early and go home, he had another worry. Might Lady Markby also decide to abandon her last few weeks in Brighton and leave?
He had to act quickly, but at least he had this week until his dinner party. Lady Markby would surely not disappoint him by defecting.
His musings were cut short when Sir Henry was announced.
'Come in, Henry. What can I do for you, lad?'
'I want to ask you to agree to an immediate betrothal,' Henry said, waving away the offer of wine. 'I think the uncertainty about when we will be able to marry is making Annamarie unhappy, and that is why she is behaving as she does.'
'You mean she is capricious, ignores you one day and is kind and affectionate the next?'
'Well, yes, I suppose that is how it looks. But I know it is because she cannot plan for anything. She wishes to go to London, for the Little Season, and begin to gather together her trousseau, but she cannot do that alone, and you have said she may not go, you will not take her. May I ask my mother to take her?'
'Your mother? But I understood Lady Markby rarely went to London. Does she propose to go now, this year?'
If she did, he was thinking, that would change his plans too.
'Well, no, she has not said so, but I could persuade her. I know I could. And Elizabeth would like to go. Lady Palgrave could come too,' he added graciously.
Lord Clifford almost laughed aloud. Henry might be his mother's favourite, but he would not hazard much on the boy being able to make the indolent Lady Markby visit London, with two guests she would be expected to entertain and take about with her. The idea of Lady Markby shopping with Annamarie for bride clothes was laughable. If such a crazy plan ever came to fruition, it would be poor Elizabeth who would have that task, and he did not envy her.
'I must consider it,' he said. 'Wait until after you have been to dine here.'
Henry, looking mutinous, departed, and Lord Clifford picked up a pencil and sheet of paper and began to write, but they were mere scribbles, vague ideas, most of which he crossed out as soon as he had written them down. What should he do? How could he meet Elizabeth alone, and where he might make her a declaration?
Finally he tossed aside the paper, and took up a new sheet and a pen. It was a simple message, asking Elizabeth to meet him the following morning in Donaldson's library. It was not the most romantic of venues, he conceded, but the best he could devise, given the weather and the possible shortage of time at his disposal. He would have to make the best of it.
*
Chapter 9
When Elizabeth entered Donaldson's library to change her mother's book she was dismayed to see Sir Percy there, sporting a many-caped greatcoat, and talking to another man. Hastily she turned, intending to leave, but her way was blocked by one of her mother's acquaintances.
'Elizabeth, my dear, how fortunate. I heard you were back in Brighton, and intend to call on dear Lady Markby as soon as I can.'
The woman had a piercing voice, and an insatiable desire for gossip.
'Tell me, child, how was it in Hampshire? I hear Lord Clifford has a very pleasant house, and an extensive estate. Why did he invite you and your brother there? Is he intending to make you an offer? Or has he already done so?'
Elizabeth had to think fast, and try not to show her annoyance at the woman's vulgar curiosity.
'My mother and Lady Palgrave are great friends,' she said. 'Lady Palgrave is Lord Clifford's ward's companion, as no doubt you know,' she added, a slight waspish tone in her voice. 'His lordship thought a change of air might do my mother good.'
'Doing it too brown, my dear. I'll warrant he was far more interested in your health.'
She glanced over Elizabeth's shoulder, and Elizabeth pulled up the hood of her cloak, in an attempt to hide, and tried to squeeze past her, hoping her attention had been caught by some other victim. But the woman grasped Elizabeth's arm and prevented her.
'Look, if it isn't my old friend Sir Percy Royle. I've never seen him in Brighton before. Aren't you and he old acquaintances? Didn't I once hear you were even betrothed? I never did get to the bottom of that, your mother refused to tell me.'
So for once Mama had been discreet, Elizabeth thought, and then realized her mother had probably been ashamed to admit that her daughter's suitor had broken off the engagement.
'Elizabeth, how well you are looking. I trust you have recovered from your journey back to Brighton. I must call soon and pay my respects to Lady Markby.'
It was Sir Percy. Elizabeth merely nodded.
'Excuse me, I am late, I must return home.'
'Oh, you don't escape me that way, my dear. I will escort you. Let me carry your book. You don't want it to get wet in this rain.'
Before she could protest he had taken the book from her, glanced at the title, and then tucked it into a capacious pocket of his greatcoat. He ushered her from the library, and began walking along the Steine, attempting to draw her arm through his.
Trying to pull away from him without an undignified struggle, she recalled she had not yet exchanged the book.
'Sir Percy, pray give me the book back. I was on my way into the library, not out of it, and must change it.'
He paused, and looked down at her, grinning.
'So I have you in my power, do I? While I have the book you must stay with me.'
'Sir Percy! I have no desire to stay wit
h you, and demand you return the book at once!'
Slowly he took it from his pocket.
'Mansfield Park, I see. For myself, I prefer Emma. Elizabeth, I want to apologize for my behaviour years ago. I was young, impetuous, and angry because of my disappointment.'
Fiercely she restrained her impulse to snatch the book from him.
'I believe you were four and twenty, sir, old enough to control yourself, in debt, and anxious to obtain my money. You soon found a replacement for me, another heiress.'
'Well, I had been foolish, I admit, but I was not so deep in debt I could not have recovered without your money. I married Harriet on the rebound, if you wish for the truth. We were tolerably happy, she was a conformable girl, but somehow, such a marriage lacks spice.'
'I have no wish to discuss your marriage, sir, or anything else with you. Give me the book.'
He sighed, and handed it to her.
'I had hoped that time would have made you more sympathetic. But I cherish hopes you may still care for me, as in all these years you have not married.'
Furious at the implication, Elizabeth swung round and marched back to the library. She was trembling, but not from shock. In a way she was satisfied. She had met and spoken with him, and not given way to anything but anger. She wondered why he had come to Brighton, but was no longer afraid of meeting him.
*
Lord Clifford had been to see a business associate, with whom he was negotiating the purchase of some land on Brighton's outskirts. The town was growing rapidly, and it was a good investment. They had ridden out to see it, then his horse had lost a shoe, so he had had to walk home. He was wet and cold, his feet in their thin riding boots, quite unsuitable for walking, were wet and sore, and he was disgruntled because he would have to wait until the following day to see Elizabeth. At the stables where he kept his cattle his groom was absent, and he had been forced to fetch the man out of a nearby tavern.
He was far from pleased to be met in the hall by a weeping Lady Palgrave who began to pour out her grievances even before the front door was shut.
'Now what is it?' he demanded.
Lord Clifford's Dilemma Page 11
