Mesalliance

by Riley, Stella

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. You may count on that restraint lasting a while longer yet. But I should point out that my patience is not inexhaustible. As you have always known, I did not marry you purely to chaperone Nell and grace my breakfast table. And as you must also have realised, I would prefer you to come to me because you wanted to … rather than as a result of any coercion on my part or because of all this.’ He waved a dismissive hand at the elegantly-appointed room. ‘There comes a point, however, when that may have to change. I trust that makes the position reasonably plain?’

  ‘Extremely plain.’ Adeline reached towards her coffee cup, then, realising that her hand was shaking, withdrew it to the safety of her lap. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ For the first time that morning, the merest glimmer of his usual expression entered his eyes. ‘They say patience is a virtue and that virtue brings its own rewards. I am still hoping that may prove true. In the meantime, if you should decide to tell me what is worrying you, my door is always open.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘And now I am afraid you must excuse me. I have an appointment this morning.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Ah.’ This as he turned to go, ‘Just one thing more. I feel I should, in all fairness, withdraw my embargo with regard to your various cavaliers attending your toilette … since, for the foreseeable future at least, I will not be attending it myself.’

  The door closed softly behind him. Adeline pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes and realised that she felt sick.

  *

  An hour later and equipped with all his customary sangfroid, Rockliffe received his man of law and laid before him the fruits of his visit to Sir Roland Franklin. Then, despite Mr Osborne’s air of gathering gloom, he gently requested him to journey to Paris in search of Michel du Plessis.

  ‘But your Grace – it is a near impossibility!’ said the lawyer incredulously. ‘The address is six years old. The gentleman may be anywhere by now. He may even be dead!’

  ‘Or he may not. Look on the bright side, Mr Osborne. I am giving you the chance to explore France at my expense.’

  Mr Osborne shuddered.

  ‘You don’t find the prospect alluring, I see,’ remarked the Duke with the faintest suspicion of amusement. ‘Have you something against foreign travel?’

  ‘My French,’ replied the lawyer, thinking miserably of sea-sickness, strange indigestible food and flea-infested inns, ‘is not of the highest order.’

  ‘But adequate, my dear fellow. I am sure that it is adequate. And the task is not as hopeless as you may think. We know from the letters that du Plessis was a military man, serving for a time under one Maréchal Rebec … and he, at least, should not be difficult to trace.’ Rockliffe paused, fingering the miniature of Joanna. ‘You may also take this. But I would ask you to treat it with great care as I hope, one day, to give it to my wife.’

  ‘Does her Grace know?’ asked Mr Osborne weakly.

  ‘No. Put yourself in her position, if you can. After a lifetime of ignorance, what use do you suppose half a story would be to you?’

  ‘Very little, your Grace.’

  ‘None at all, Mr Osborne. And that is why you are going to France with all possible speed and, once there, to make what discoveries you can.’ With a peculiar glinting smile that veiled the magisterial reality, Rockliffe handed over a substantial packet of papers. ‘I think you will find everything you need. Money for the immediate future, a draft on my Paris bankers and a letter instructing Captain Lennox to put both himself and my yacht at your disposal. You will find the Boreas at Southampton. If you leave this morning, you may – weather permitting – sail on tomorrow’s evening tide. Do you have any further questions?’

  ‘No,’ said the little man unhappily. ‘That is – no, your Grace.’

  ‘Then I will wish you Godspeed, Mr Osborne. Good luck – and good hunting.’

  *

  That evening Rockliffe did not, as he had said, attend Adeline’s toilette and, when she joined him downstairs with Nell, he merely kissed her hand lightly and complimented her on choosing the sapphires to set off her silver-grey brocade gown. Despite the misery in her heart, Adeline’s bones melted at the sight of him and she knew a desperate longing to touch the immaculately powdered head, bending over her hand. As always, he looked magnificent and, as always, she was dazzled by it.

  Since the Cavendish House ball was regarded as one of the highlights of the social season, the rooms were already crowded and Adeline looked nervously about her for the willowy figure of her uncle. Mercifully, she did not see it and soon, finding herself accosted by Thea, she discovered why.

  ‘Oh – Adeline!’ Althea’s eyes were wide with excitement. ‘You’ll never guess what Andy’s done!’

  ‘Andy?’ queried Adeline, not really attending.

  ‘Andrew – our brother, Andrew. He’s run off with Lizzie Pickering!’

  This got through. ‘He’s what?’

  ‘Run off with Lizzie. Mama is furious. She’s sent Uncle Richard home to make Papa do something about it. Only I should think it’s too late by now, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Very probably,’ agreed Adeline, weak with relief. ‘I take it your papa didn’t come and break the news himself?’

  ‘No. He just sent a letter. I don’t think he minds very much. He likes Lizzie. I used to think Mama liked her, too – but it seems not. I suppose that’s why Andrew thought they’d better elope. It’s awfully sudden, though. I hadn’t the least notion of them caring for each other. None of us had. And, of course, Di is as mad as fire about it.’

  It was probably the longest speech Althea had ever made in her life. Adeline smiled encouragingly and said, ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Well, she says it’s because Lizzie is a Nobody,’ came the confiding reply. ‘But I think it’s really because she never thought to see Lizzie married before her. Is that horrid?’

  ‘No. Just perceptive. And where is Diana this evening?’

  ‘At home in a temper. Mama said she wasn’t fit to come.’

  ‘Oh? Well, I’m sure Mama knows best,’ responded Adeline with a glimmer of her usual irony. ‘And, in the meantime, you are free to enjoy yourself … speaking of which, I suspect that here is Mr Ingram on his way to claim you.’

  Althea blushed and, so softly that even Adeline failed to hear her, said ‘Oh. I do hope so.’

  On the other side of the room, Rockliffe was engaging Charles Fox in lazy conversation whilst watching Nell flirt her way through a gavotte with Harry Caversham.

  ‘Do you expect them to make a match of it?’ enquired Mr Fox, following his gaze.

  ‘I expect nothing. I merely await events,’ responded the Duke placidly. ‘And just now I am waiting – in vain, it would seem – to hear the gossip of the last three days.’

  ‘There’s little enough to tell, my dear – would that there were! But let me see. Brackenbury’s wife has given him yet another girl … Marcus Sheringham has retired to his estates to escape the duns and – ah yes! Mistress Diana Franklin is said to have been overheard remarking that your delightful wife … er … entrapped you into marriage.’

  His Grace’s expression remained completely unchanged.

  ‘Indeed? And what, dear Charles, do you make of that, I wonder?’

  ‘Nothing – save that the young lady is in a fair way to making herself ridiculous,’ replied Mr Fox calmly. He flicked open his snuff-box and added languidly, ‘I doubt – were the town not so damned dull these days – that I’d have mentioned it at all.’

  ‘I rejoice to hear it,’ said Rockliffe. And then, raising his quizzing-glass, ‘You know, Charles … that is a very pretty box.’

  ‘Yes. I thought you’d like it.’

  ‘You were right. Unless I am mistaken … one of Mr Wedgewood’s pieces?’

  ‘Specially commissioned,’ nodded Mr Fox. ‘Are you sorry that you didn’t think of it?’

  ‘Do you know, I believe I am.’ The Duke allowed his gaz
e to travel meditatively to his friend’s coat. ‘But if I had … you may be sure that I would never have allowed it near that particular shade of green. Garish, Charles – definitely garish.’

  At the end of the gavotte, Harry smiled cloudlessly down on Nell and informed her that he had seldom enjoyed a dance more. She dimpled back at him and waited archly for him to beg her to partner him again. He didn’t. Instead, he escorted her cheerfully back to Adeline and then went off to claim his dance with Cassie. He did not even seem disposed to linger.

  Nell’s eyes followed him thoughtfully for a moment and then a martial gleam dawned. Two, she decided sagely, could play at that game. Amongst the knot of gentlemen clustered about Adeline were a number of her own admirers. She resolved to dance with them all … and began by bestowing her hand upon young Mr Petworth with such warmth that he was quite overcome.

  She kept a discreet eye on Lord Harry. After Cassie, he progressed to Althea and then Adeline. Then, sickeningly, he danced with Cassie again. Nell’s heart plummeted inexplicably, causing her attention to wander briefly … which was how she came to accept Sir Jasper Brierley’s hand for the minuet.

  Not, of course, that she’d meant to ignore him. But, after what Rock had said that morning and now that she was feeling so much better about Harry, she had resolved to gradually end her flirtation with him. It was likely, in any case, that she’d had the best out of it – and it would be silly to wait until he tired of her. But here he was being as charming and entertaining as ever – and so understanding that she found herself confiding Rock’s total rejection of the Ridotto Scheme … which only went to show how one thing had a habit of leading to another.

  She went home in a fever of indecision which, characteristically, could have only one result. By morning, she had persuaded herself that it really was too famous an escapade to be missed – yet perfectly harmless so long as she was careful.

  ‘And I will be careful,’ she thought. ‘So careful no one need ever know. And then I’ll be good again.’

  *

  A week later when Rockliffe had left for a hand of picquet at White’s with Jack, Adeline was informed by her maid that Lady Elinor had a sick headache and begged to be excused from attending Lady Crewe’s assembly. Not having previously supposed that Nell knew what a headache was, Adeline was surprised and not a little concerned to find the sufferer lying down on her bed with the curtains drawn and a cologne-soaked handkerchief adorning her brow.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Nell bravely, ‘but I really don’t think I can go.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. Just lie still and I’ll have Jeanne make up a tisane for you. In fact, I’ve a good mind to do it myself. It won’t disappoint me in the least to miss tonight’s assembly.’

  ‘Oh no! You mustn’t think of it,’ said Nell. ‘I – I should feel so guilty. And Isabel promised to take us up in her carriage, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. But Isabel will understand. And I don’t care to leave you. You are extremely pale.’

  ‘I know – I mean, I daresay I am. But all I want is to be left alone … and if I have a tisane, I shall sleep, you know. Do go, Adeline. I’d feel so much better if you did.’

  Adeline hesitated and then allowed herself to be persuaded. But an indeterminate prickle of unease persisted at the back of her mind – and this, had she known it, was entirely justified. For as soon as she had left the house, Nell leapt from her bed, washed the white hair-powder from her face and began furnishing her maid with a feu-de-joie of instructions.

  Lady Crewe’s assembly was every bit as tedious and crowded as Adeline had feared. She suppressed a yawn, tried to appear fascinated by what Mr Walpole was saying and let her mind drift wistfully to Tracy. Unless they had a shared engagement, she found she saw very little of him these days … and, when she did, he was pleasant but rather distant. She found that she missed him … and wondered if he intended that she should. But it couldn’t last. She knew that. Sooner or later they would find themselves back where they had been on the night of his return – and the question facing her would be the same. The only difference might be that her chances of responding as she would wish would be greater if only her evil uncle would leave her alone.

  An hour later she was just wondering if Isabel would mind her taking a chair and going home when Harry Caversham put in his usual belated appearance and found his way to her side.

  She said resignedly, ‘You really are dreadful, you know. Don’t you ever arrive at a respectable time?’

  ‘It’s not much after eleven,’ he grinned. ‘And no one minds. It’s expected of me. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t planning to come at all – only the devil’s in the cards and Rock happened to mention that you were here so I thought I’d look in.’

  For the first time in a week, Adeline laughed.

  ‘You’re well-served, then. Nell’s at home with a headache.’

  ‘What?’ Harry’s head jerked round and his tone caused at least five other guests to halt in their tracks. ‘You’re saying Nell cried off because of a headache?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you believed her?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Adeline again, this time with mild irritation. And then, differently, ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh,’ agreed Harry sardonically. ‘Nell never had a headache in her life.’

  ‘Well, I thought that myself. Only she looked so -- ’

  ‘Forget how she looked,’ he cut in ruthlessly, already steering her across the room. ‘Come on and be quick about it. For what you wouldn’t know but Rock ought to have told you is that Nell’s done this before. And if she’s at home, I’m a Dutchman.’

  *

  ‘You’re no Dutchman,’ said Adeline bitterly, returning breathlessly to the salon after visiting Nell’s room. ‘Her maid doesn’t know where she is but I think I do. She’s taken a domino.’

  ‘Oh Christ,’ groaned Harry. ‘Vauxhall? Ranelagh?’

  ‘Covent Garden,’ came the flat response. ‘She’s been teasing Tracy to take her but he refused.’

  Harry shut his eyes for a moment.

  ‘The stupid little fool,’ he breathed. And then, ‘All right. I’ll go and fetch her. Try not to worry. It’s not your fault. But it will be interesting, won’t it, to see which bastard has taken her there?’

  And he was gone.

  *

  Covent Garden was a riot of light and noise and colour which Nell had at first enjoyed. Now she sat very still and straight and watched the proceedings outside the box degenerate from harmless vulgarity into something that, to her sheltered eyes, seemed almost bacchanalian. The food she had eaten lay like cement in her stomach and she wanted more than anything to be able to go home.

  In the seat beside her, his arm resting negligently across the back of her chair, Sir Jasper considered how best to make sure she was seen and recognised. For, if her reputation were sufficiently damaged, it was just possible that Rockliffe would bestow her hand on the only man likely to ask for it – namely, himself. It was a long-shot. And the tricky part was to arrange matters so that he did not end up facing the Duke over a yard of steel – particularly as his Grace was known to possess more than average skill in that area.

  Sighing a little, he removed his arm and said cajolingly, ‘My dear – will you not come and dance?’

  ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. Indeed, I’d quite l-like to go home now.’

  ‘Would you? Then of course you shall. But – as a reward – just one dance before we leave?’

  The relief was so great that she gave in without a second thought. Sir Jasper’s smile grew. His goal was within sight … for less than four yards from the parapet of their box, he could see two admirable witnesses. One was Viscount Ansford, that lisping, peevish gossip; and the other was Rockliffe’s former mistress, Carlotta Felucci. All he had to do was to ensure that Nell lost her mask.

  He manoeuvred her towards Carlotta and the Viscount and then, at the optimum moment, allowed his buttoned cuff to catch in h
er curls.

  ‘Ah – how clumsy of me! But if you will be still, I’ll have you free in a trice.’

  It seemed only sensible to do as he said. And then, as she waited, several things happened at once.

  Her mask dropped neatly from her face; a familiar voice, unfamiliarly furious, said, ‘I might have known it!’; and Sir Jasper lurched inexplicably backwards to collide with the pink-clad Viscount before ending in a heap on the floor.

  ‘And that,’ said Lord Harry, coolly adjusting his sleeve, ‘ought to be the end of that.’

  Nell stared at him. ‘Harry?’

  ‘Who else?’ The blue gaze was perfectly inimical. ‘Unless you want to be utterly ruined, you’d better replace your mask so that we can leave. I’ve several things to say to you – and, for once in your life, you’re going to listen.’

  By the time the carriage drew up outside Wynstanton House, Nell was sobbing heartbrokenly into her handkerchief. Ignoring this, his lordship hauled her inside and, meeting Adeline in the hall, said, ‘I think I’ve said everything necessary. The best thing now might be for her to go to bed so that you and I can discuss how best to minimise the damage. Though why anyone should bother to help such stupid, ill-conditioned brat is entirely beyond me.’

  It was the last straw. Nell fled to her chamber.

  ‘Well done,’ said Adeline. ‘You seem to have made an impression at last. Come in and let me pour you a glass of wine.’

  ‘Brandy would be better.’

  ‘Then brandy it shall be.’ She moved to the side-board and said calmly, ‘Do you love her?’

  ‘Unfortunately – yes. But that is strictly confidential.’

  ‘Naturally.’ She handed him the glass. ‘And you’ll marry her?’

  ‘Perhaps. If she ever grows up.’ He frowned into the amber liquid. ‘It was Jasper Brierley, of course. I hit him.’

  ‘That must have been enjoyable.’

  ‘It was.’ He looked up unsmilingly. ‘It should also help remind Lord Ansford to keep his mouth shut – though, of course, I can’t guarantee it.’ A pause, and then, ‘The thing is, Adeline – with your permission, I’d like to try keeping this from Rock.’