Mesalliance

by Riley, Stella

  Somehow, Adeline found herself outside, stripping off her necklace and bracelets with stiff, clumsy fingers while the carriage was brought round. Then, thanking Isabel with a swift kiss whilst piling the Wynstanton diamonds into her hands, she told the coachman to take her to Sittingbourne.

  Throughout the journey her mind went round in circles, playing and re-playing the whole nightmarish scene in Queensberry House … and always stopping in the same place. The moment when Tracy, realising the full extent of her deception, had looked at her with cold condemning eyes … and she had known that there was nothing she could say now that would undo the damage.

  She arrived at Wynstanton Priors an hour or so after dawn, directed the Vernon’s coachman to the Rose in Sittingbourne and told him to lay whatever expenses he incurred to his Grace of Rockliffe’s account. Then, avoiding the house, she walked down into the deserted park.

  When he came she had been alone at the lakeside for an hour, gazing unseeingly across its glassy surface. The air was still and laden with bird-song and the early mist lay heavy on the water. Then the peace was shattered by the sound of hoof-beats and the bird-song became a flurry of beating wings as he rode into the clearing behind her.

  Very slowly, Adeline turned to face him. For a moment, he sat motionless, staring down at her from eyes which, though no longer inimical, held a look that sent alarm feathering down her spine.

  He watched her clutch the thin evening cloak about her, saw that her hair was falling down her back and the bottom of the peacock gown sodden from contact with the wet grass. And then, with a courtesy they both knew meant nothing, he said, ‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?’

  ‘I – no.’ She discovered that her mouth was tinder-dry and tried to moisten it. ‘How could you? I – I didn’t know you would come.’

  He smiled then, but not in any way she found either comforting or even recognisable.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’ She said it quickly and immediately knew it for a lie. Of course he would come. Taken all in all, how could he not? She had known he would come; what she had not known, and still did not, was why.

  ‘You thought, having gone home to find my wife missing, I might have simply shrugged and sat down by the fire with a book and a night-cap?’ he asked. ‘Really?’

  She swallowed. ‘No.’

  ‘No.’ He dismounted and, without bothering to tether his horse, closed the space between them. The black brocade coat he had worn to the ball was mantled with dust and the right sleeve seemed to be partially adrift. The Garter had gone from his chest, as had the lace at his wrists, while the buckled shoes had been replaced, somewhat incongruously, by top-boots. And traces of last night’s powder still clung to hair which appeared to have been at some stage hurriedly brushed and re-tied but was now hopelessly windswept.

  Adeline absorbed these signs of swift and relentless pursuit with misgiving but continued to avoid his gaze, preferring to watch his horse canter away in the direction of the stables. Then her hand was taken in a too-firm clasp and he started to lead her away from the lake towards the house.

  She said abruptly, ‘I didn’t mean you to follow me. I didn’t think you’d want to.’

  Rockliffe did not reply. The crippling weight of fear that had accompanied him all the way from London, followed by the unimaginable relief of finding her safe were transforming themselves, inevitably, into over-whelming anger; and it was choking him.

  Keeping pace with him only through lack of choice, Adeline tried again.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just c-couldn’t stay in London.’

  ‘So I gathered.’ He stopped walking and swung her round to face him. ‘You’ll have to forgive the lack of subtlety – but it’s been a very long night. I understood why you left Queensberry House – I was even glad of it. I did, however, expect you find you at home. Instead, I found no sign of you whatsoever and no one with any idea where you were. So I went to Hanover Square where Rosalind took a damned sight longer than necessary to admit that she didn’t know where you’d gone but that Isabel Vernon might. Are you beginning to get the general idea? Do you even care?’ His hands tightened on her shoulders and he went on, his voice hard and rapid, ‘So; off to Jermyn Street where I had to kick my heels for twenty minutes while Isabel made herself presentable enough to come back downstairs … and finally I learned that she’d lent you her carriage so that you could come here. Alone, through the night – without a thought for what you’d do if the coach lost a wheel or there were footpads on the road. And you didn’t think I’d follow you? Christ!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I – it didn’t occur to me that you’d be worried. I thought … I thought you m-might be relieved.’

  ‘You didn’t think full stop. If you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all – never mind having it in the bloody park.’ He paused and drew a steadying breath. ‘So far, I’ve lost my temper, my finesse and a particularly fine snuff-box. I’ve bruised my knuckles, winded my favourite mare and missed my breakfast. But what I have not done is to ride forty miles in a guise I can only describe as lamentable, merely for the pleasure of your conversation. Let’s go.’

  She met his eyes then and instantly regretted it as something in them made it impossible to look away. Through the maelstrom of her nerves, she summoned enough breath to say shakily, ‘We need to talk first.’

  ‘Why? So you can give me more evasions and platitudes and excuses? So you can find yet another way of saying no? I think not.’

  Adeline realised then that he was a hairsbreadth away from losing his temper. She had seen him angry perhaps twice - and never for more than a minute or two; and though she had perhaps guessed that, beneath the suave exterior, lay something volcanic, she had never seen him lose control of it even for an instant. She said, ‘I’m not saying no. If you’ll -- ’

  ‘Well that will make a change. Or perhaps you’re just not saying it yet.’

  ‘-- listen to me for a minute -- ’

  ‘Adeline.’ There was a white shade around his mouth and he looked very tired. ‘I should perhaps explain that this isn’t a suggestion or even an invitation – though I’m sure we’d both prefer it to retain the appearance of one. This time – with or without your consent - I’m going to do what I should have done months ago. And I think we both know by now that – whatever you may say – consent isn’t going to be a problem.’

  Her heart thudded against her ribs and her knees turned to jelly as he started walking again.

  ‘I won’t say no. I promise. But I need to tell you something before - ’ She stopped, stumbling over her skirt as he towed her onwards. ‘Tracy – please! Just wait a moment! Oh God – why are you doing this?’

  ‘Why?’ He stopped so suddenly she nearly fell. ‘Why?’ he repeated bitterly, his hands gripping her arms while his gaze scorched her face. ‘Because, damn it, it’s the only thing I haven’t already tried – and the only thing I have left.’

  His hands fell away from her and he stepped back … but not before Adeline saw and finally recognised the look in his eyes. Not temper – or not just that – but sickening, soul-searing hurt; a hurt so deep and, to her, so unexpected, that it sliced through her like a knife and caused her to drop nervelessly to her knees on the wet grass.

  Through the raw ache in her throat, she said, ‘Tracy – don’t. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be grateful for that? Well, let’s think, shall we? I’ve done my utmost to give you the security I thought you needed and I’ve crucified myself being patient and not making demands of you. Oh – I know I said I married you for your body but even on our wedding-night I suspected that wasn’t all I wanted. I thought that, if I could only wait, one day you might --’ He broke off as if to steady himself, then went on. ‘That one day you might want me, too. And you did, I think. Only by then, I’d committed the ultimate folly. I fell in love with you. I didn’t say it, of course. Partly because I’ve never said it to any woman before – but mostly because I wanted s
ome small sign that, when I did, you wouldn’t react as if I’d merely offered you a second cup of coffee. But though I may not have put it into words, I tried to show you in every way I could. I loved you so much that that nothing else mattered. I’d have given you whatever you wanted – done anything you asked of me. Only you didn’t ask me, did you? You confided in anyone but me. First Harry – which I could have forgiven; and then Jack – which I can’t. As for allowing Horton to blackmail you rather than tell me the truth – do you think I couldn’t or wouldn’t have dealt with him? I don’t think I’m a fool but I’ll never understand why you found it so impossible to trust me.’

  The tears that Adeline had refused to shed for herself came now in a steady, silent stream. She said huskily, ‘I didn’t. It was never that.’

  He gave a short, abrasive laugh.

  ‘That’s a lie. If you’d trusted me, your hell-spawned cousin wouldn’t have been able to stand in the middle Queensberry House telling – not just me, but half of London – that you’d been paying Richard Horton not to tell me you were illegitimate … and that, when it all got too much for you, you took your troubles to Jack.’ He stared at her over folded arms, breathing rather hard. ‘To that, of course, we can add the not insignificant fact that, as soon as the whole sorry tale came to light, you did your damnedest to put yourself out of harm’s way. And that, my sweet disappointment, hurt more than all the rest. But since you so obviously had expectations of me, it seemed churlish not to fulfil them – and so here I am.’ Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet and added, ‘Tears aren’t going to solve anything … but something else might.’

  Her last thought as his head blotted out the light was that he did not understand; and then his mouth came down on hers with a savagery that scalded them both. For perhaps half a minute, all the hurtful rejections and suppressed longings of the past months flooded through Rockliffe in a conduit of untrammelled violence; and then it was gone as he suddenly realised that she wasn’t even trying to resist him. She was simply crying – so silently that the only indication of it was the taste of salt on her mouth and in his. Somewhere in a corner of his mind was the thought that this was the first time he’d ever seen her shed a tear. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his head to look at her and then, his hands dropping to his sides, he said distantly, ‘My apologies. That was … unnecessary. Do you think we might go back to the house? They should have lit some fires by now and you’re cold.’

  And that, after everything that had gone before, completely over-set her. Without stopping to think, she said baldly, ‘I love you.’

  The shock of it drove the blood from his skin. There was a pause while he fought for control and then he said raggedly, ‘Congratulations. I really didn’t see that one coming.’

  She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t believe her. She hadn’t, after all, made a particularly convincing job of telling him. His response, however, was alarming. She took a step towards him and opened her mouth to speak, only to stop dead as he flung up his hand.

  ‘No. Don’t come any nearer.’ His voice was clipped now and completely impervious and his eyes resembled discs of obsidian. ‘Let us cling to the charitable assumption that you made that perfectly witless remark out of a desire to repair my shattered equilibrium. Very well. It didn’t quite work but I thank you for the kind thought.’ He bowed with exquisite grace. ‘I am going inside. You can join me or not – as you wish.’

  His careful courtesy left her stricken and dumb so that she could do nothing but watch as he walked away from her towards the house. Then, finally, she realised that it was time to assert herself - that if she didn’t do it now, there might never be another opportunity. Gathering up her skirts in both hands, she ran after him and grabbed his sleeve.

  ‘You can listen to me here or in the house – I don’t care which – but you are going to listen!’

  He shook off her hand and continued walking. ‘In due course, perhaps. But not now.’

  ‘Why not? I’ve listened to you … and I’ll go on listening for as long as you’ve anything left to say to me. Don’t I get a turn? I said I love you – and I do. That’s not so terrible, is it?’

  ‘Leave it, Adeline. The veneer is somewhat fragile and may crack at any moment. If you are wise, you’ll stop this while you still can.’

  ‘But I don’t want to stop it. I want you to let me explain. Is that so unreasonable?’

  They had reached the house. Rockliffe laid his hand on the door-latch and then, closing his eyes for a moment, drew a long bracing breath. Finally he said, ‘Very well. But first I intend to wash and change – and, since that gown is soaked, I suggest you do the same. I also require coffee. Then, if I must, I’ll listen.’

  *

  Inside the house, he ascertained that fires had been lit upstairs, requested hot water for washing and asked for coffee to be brought up to her Grace’s sitting-room. Then, as he and Adeline climbed the stairs, he said, ‘If you want to talk in private – and I presume you do – your boudoir is the best place. So don’t read too much into it.’ And he vanished into his room.

  Adeline’s fingers having inexplicably become thumbs, she had to wait for the girl with the hot water before she could get out of the ruined peacock gown. Then, telling the maid to find her something - anything - clean to wear, she washed her face and hands and tried to get a brush through her hair. It was only then that she saw the gown that the maid had laid out for her; the same pale blue dimity she’d worn on their first morning here in the summer … the day she’d gone downstairs to find Tracy with his hair unpowdered and he’d swept her outside to see The Trojan. The day she’d first realised that she loved him. For a moment, Adeline stood quite still, forcing back a wave of misery and telling herself that it was only a dress. Then, unwilling to waste any more time, she put it on and, fastening her hair loosely back in a ribbon, returned to the sitting-room. It was empty. She sat down by the coffee-pot, wishing that her hands would stop shaking and that she knew what she was going to say.

  Had she but known it, she need not have hurried. Aware that he needed to regain at least a semblance of composure, Rockliffe was taking his time. He threw his coat at the bed with a force that sent it slithering off the other side to the floor. Then, stripping off the rest of his clothing, he washed away the dust of the road, shaved without managing to cut his throat and rinsed the last traces of powder from his hair. And throughout it all, he tried to make sense of just one thing; why his immediate reaction to Adeline’s declaration had been disbelief. He thought of half a dozen reasons, none of which satisfied him. Finally, his mind calmer but no clearer, he pulled on clean clothes and, having no further excuse to linger, walked through the door to the boudoir.

  Adeline looked across at him, taking in the snowy-fresh shirt and the damp ebony hair, and forgot to breathe. Then, waiting until he sat down, she poured coffee and said ‘They’ve sent up some breakfast if you’d -- ’

  ‘No.’ The thought of food made him nauseous. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No. I couldn’t either.’

  He took the cup she offered him. ‘Then perhaps we could get this over with. I’d like to sleep for a couple of hours before I start back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s necessary. I can’t reduce the harm from here.’ He paused, drank the now-tepid coffee and grimaced. ‘So. What did you want to say to me?’

  There was only one thought in her head so she voiced it. ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘I need to speak to Dominic and … yes, to Charles Fox, I think. His ear is perpetually to the ground,’ said Rockliffe thoughtfully, as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘And I’ll put in an appearance at White’s. That should silence a few tongues.’

  ‘Don’t go,’ she said again, this time more urgently. ‘Please don’t.’

  He looked at her for a moment and then sighed.

  ‘Adeline – I’m here because I had to satisfy myself that you were safe. You’re here, as I understand it, because you wanted …’ He st
opped briefly, then resumed a little less smoothly, ‘You’re here because you wanted to be away from me for a time. So my returning to town --’

  ‘No. I don’t want that,’ she interrupted, trying to quell the unreasoning panic that was taking hold of her. ‘Last night, perhaps. But not now. Not any more. Please don’t go. I c-couldn’t bear it.’

  Rockliffe frowned a little.

  ‘It would be helpful,’ he said dryly, ‘if you could make up your mind. However. This is getting us nowhere. You wanted to talk – so talk. And, afterwards, we’ll see. Say what you wish. I’m listening.’

  She collected his gaze and held it. Then, summoning all her courage, ‘I l -- ’

  ‘You love me. Yes, so you said. I suggest, however, that you work up to that gradually. What else?’

  Not without difficulty, Adeline found a shred of her old astringency.

  ‘Tracy – you’re entitled to make this difficult. I accept that. But if you want me to be brief, you can’t interrupt every second or third word.’

  A flicker of something more like his usual expression passed through his eyes and then was gone. He said, ‘I stand corrected. Please … do go on.’

  She drew a deep breath and said, ‘I should begin by pointing out that I don’t expect anything I say to mend matters. After last night, I know that nothing can. But I can’t leave you thinking that I don’t care for you – or trust you – or want you. Because I do. And that’s why I didn’t tell you about Richard. I thought, rather naively as it turns out, that I could deal with him myself.’

  ‘But you didn’t deal with him yourself, did you? You told Jack.’

  She shook her head. ‘No – or not in the way you mean it. He found out by chance about a week ago. He – he happened to be watching me when Richard was demanding yet more money; and he persuaded me to tell him why because he’s marrying Althea.’

  It occurred to Rockliffe then that, if he had been watching instead of keeping her at a distance, the story might have been different. He said, ‘Go on.’