by Mary Nichols
It was all very plausible, so why did she not believe him? Maybe because she had heard the familiar way they addressed each other, but they had been rehearsing together for weeks, so perhaps she was being unduly sensitive about it. In any case, it did not matter, did it? She was not going to marry him. How would he react when she told him? Would he be hurt, or angry, or would he simply shrug his shoulders and turn immediately to Lady Rattenshaw for consolation?
‘You are forgiven, my lord.’ She smiled, as a servant brought in the tray and the Duchess busied herself pouring tea. ‘We have decided to postpone rehearsals for a week or two while the trial is on.’
‘I think that is a very sensible decision,’ he said. ‘I, like my peers, will be obliged to attend, but I hope it will be over and done with quickly. There is a great deal of counter-evidence and, if Brougham uses it, the King will not dare proceed.’
‘I am afraid I find the whole matter distasteful, my lord,’ Frances said, handing him a cup of tea.
‘I beg your pardon, your Grace, I shall not mention it again.’ He turned to Lavinia. ‘Tell me what happened at the rehearsal, my lady. What did Mr Greatorex have to say?’
Lavinia was happy to oblige him and the rest of the visit passed in pleasant conversation, at the end of which he took his leave, lifting the back of her hand to his lips, while raising his eyes to look into hers. ‘I bid you au revoir, my dear lady.’
She was reminded of the sensation she had felt when James had turned her hands over to kiss the palms. Edmund Wincote could never stir her like that. And now that she knew where her heart really lay, even his dark eyes seemed to have lost the power to make her feel anything other than rigidly uncomfortable. ‘My lord.’
‘Good day, your Grace.’ He turned and bowed to the Duchess and left, still as confident as ever.
‘What was all that about Hatchard’s?’ Frances asked, as soon as the door had closed on him.
‘Nothing, Mama. I saw him there with Lady Rattenshaw, but as he has explained what happened, it is of no consequence.’
‘Of no consequence! Lavinia, if he is playing with your affections…’
‘Mama, he is not. If anything, it is the other way about.’
‘Does that mean you have made up your mind about him?’
‘I think so, Mama.’
‘And?’
‘I shall turn him down.’ She heard her stepmother’s sigh of relief and smiled. ‘But I do not intend to tell him until after the play and you must not say anything either. Not to anyone, especially not to James.’
‘Why not James, in particular?’
She felt the colour flare into her face and got up to look out of the window. Lord Wincote’s phaeton could be seen making its way through the crowds. ‘No reason. He loves to torment me and… Oh, he will find some way of giving me a roasting over it.’
‘Oh, Lavinia, you do him an injustice. I am sure he has only your happiness at heart and would do anything for you.’
James, who had stood buff for her on so many other occasions, could do nothing about this problem; she had to find a way out for herself. And it was nothing to do with Lord Wincote. It was James himself. Pulling herself together, she returned to her seat. ‘I know, but it would be discourteous to tell anyone before I have told Lord Wincote himself, do you not think?’
‘Of course it would, but if you have made up your mind, is it not equally discourteous to refrain from telling his lordship so?’
‘Yes, but if I say anything before the play is performed, he will not take part and I cannot find another Lysander at short notice.’
The Duchess smiled. ‘Oh, Vinny, how could you! It is unfair of you to keep him waiting, especially if he believes you will accept him in the end. I really do think you should tell him. I am sure he is not such a rakeshame as to let everyone down.’
Lavinia sighed, knowing her stepmother was right. ‘I suppose I must. I will do so the next time we meet, I promise.’
The subject of the trial would not go away; the closer it came, the more people talked and speculated. The crowds that crammed themselves into London for it led the constabulary to expect a huge crush around Parliament on the day it began and there was some talk of riots and armed insurrection.
As a result, the whole area had been enclosed by a strong timber fence which, by seven o’clock on the morning of the trial, was being patrolled by the law. A whole regiment of guards surrounded Westminster Hall, the Law Courts and the approaches to the Houses of Parliament, while mounted cavalry and the Horse Police patrolled the streets.
‘The whole place is under siege,’ Miss Hastings said, returning from a reconnaissance before breakfast that morning. ‘You would think they were going to fight a battle. And what with the Queen staying only a few houses away, one cannot move.’
‘Then I, for one, will remain indoors today,’ Frances said. ‘And you must keep the children in the garden.’
The Duke, of course, was obliged to attend as was every peer who was neither sick, bereaved, or too old and infirm. They had to be in their places by ten o’clock so, in order to do that, began assembling hours before. They were greeted by cheers or hisses, according to which way the crowd thought they would vote. Marcus and his son, the Marquis of Risley, left Stanmore House at eight, using the family coach with the blinds drawn.
‘I think today will only be preliminaries,’ Marcus told them before he left. ‘And perhaps common sense will prevail and the Bill will be dismissed, though I am not optimistic.’
‘We must find something useful to occupy us,’ Frances said as she and Lavinia sat over their breakfast, listening to the tumult of the crowds gathering outside the Queen’s temporary residence. ‘I have some household accounts to do and a report to write for the orphanage committee. What will you do, Vinny?’
‘I have scenery to paint,’ Lavinia said, remembering the dreadful mess she had made of the palace scene, on the day of the last rehearsal. She had put off going back to it, knowing it would remind her of how she had made a fool of herself in front of James. She had flown into a jealous rage over Lord Wincote and Lady Rattenshaw, as if she cared two pins what they did! James must think she did, James must think she was breaking her heart over his lordship. It was not Lord Wincote who was breaking her heart, but the Earl of Corringham. He filled her thoughts night and day. He was there in her head, accompanying her wherever she went, jumping out of the page at her when she was reading, smiling and teasing her when she silently murmured Hermia’s lines to herself. She saw his handsome face reflected behind hers when she gazed in the mirror. He invaded her sleep.
She went to the ballroom and fetched the piece of scenery out from behind the curtain she had draped over it and was shocked at what she had done. Had she really thrown paint with such ferocity? It was not as if she had anything to be angry about. She did not want Edmund Wincote and looking back now, she realised she never had. She had been flattered by his attention and mesmerised by his dark, brooding eyes, but that was all.
The man she wanted was James. But he thought of her as a mischievous child and who could blame him? She had flown into the boughs and flung paint everywhere. Now she must repair the damage, not only to the scenery, but to her good standing with James.
She worked all morning; by the time she stopped for nuncheon, she had covered the board with new background paint. It had to be left to dry before she could begin painting the scene again and she joined the Duchess for a light repast.
In the middle of the afternoon, cheers in the street told them the Queen was returning and that must mean the day’s session was over. ‘I wonder what happened,’ Frances murmured, going to the window to look out on the street. ‘My goodness, just look at that.’
Lavinia joined her at the window. The Queen’s carriage had just drawn up at the door of number eighteen, but instead of descending and going inside, she sat for a moment enjoying the adulation of the crowd, bowing from the waist and waving to right and left. She was wearing a gypsy h
at with a huge bow on the front from which sprouted a plume of ostrich feathers. And to crown it she had a large white veil, which she had flung back to reveal heavily rouged features, painted eyebrows and a curly black wig.
‘Straight from one of Mr Greatorex’s farces,’ Lavinia said. ‘But she seems to have captured the hearts of the populace, though it may be that they hate the King so much, they will support anyone who is against him.’
It was another hour before the Duke and Duncan returned, accompanied by James. All three looked tired. ‘We could not get through the crush,’ Marcus said, kissing his wife’s cheek. ‘It was frightening.’
‘Then I am glad we did not go out today,’ Frances said, then, to James, ‘Will you stay and dine with us? The crowd might have thinned by evening.’
‘Delighted,’ he said, but he was looking at Lavinia, as he spoke.
She tried to give him a bright smile in return, but she was sure her eyes gave her away and dropped her gaze. He noticed it and wondered why she would not look at him. She was pale too, as if she had not been sleeping well. Was she still shocked and mortified by the way he had kissed her hands? He cursed himself for his clumsiness. Had he damned himself forever in her eyes?
‘Come on, tell us what happened,’ Frances said. ‘Is it all over?’
‘No, far from it. We were still finding our seats when a great roar went up and the Queen arrived. You would think she’d come in quietly with a little dignity, wouldn’t you? But no, she rode in a magnificent coach and six surrounded by her retinue. The crowd was so excited it broke down the barriers and cheered her all the way to the doors.’
‘I was afraid they would engulf the hall itself,’ James put in, still watching Lavinia. ‘But thankfully they desisted when she was met by Black Rod. She took her place in the chamber, as calm as you please, to listen to the debate.’
‘It will go ahead then?’ the Duchess queried.
‘Yes, I am afraid so,’ Marcus said. ‘I spoke for the motion being rescinded, but unfortunately I was in the minority.’
‘Have you any idea how long it will take?’ Lavinia asked, thinking of the play. She did not want to postpone it, but if they had to do it in the middle of the furore, it would be a disaster.
The Duke smiled. ‘No, my dear, but judging by the fuss made today, no one in London will think of anything else until it is all over.’
They were interrupted by the arrival of the butler to say that dinner was served and they made their way to the dining room, the Duke and Duchess followed by Duncan, with James and Lavinia bringing up the the rear. Usually on such occasions, they conversed easily about almost every topic under the sun, but there was now a barrier between them which could not be breached and they were silent. They were each aware of the proximity of the other, but walked a little apart as if afraid that they might inadvertently brush against each other.
Once seated, they waited until the first course was served, and then both started to speak at once. They laughed awkwardly. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘What were you about to say?’
‘Oh, nothing. I was going to ask if the streets were safe and could we venture out tomorrow.’
‘You have something in mind?’
‘I find being confined to the house irksome in the extreme and I thought a ride…’
‘It would have to be very early, before the crowds begin to gather.’
‘Tomorrow will be the same as today?’
‘Yes and every day while the trial lasts.’
‘Then let us hope it is soon over,’ the Duchess put in.
‘Amen to that,’ Marcus said. ‘Now, let us eat our dinner in peace. What have you been doing with yourself today, Vinny?’
‘Painting scenery, Papa,’ she said, avoiding looking at James. ‘The interior of Theseus’s palace. Most of it is done now. Constance still has some of the costumes to finish, but we are almost ready. There will be no more rehearsals while everyone is rushing off to Westminster every day.’
‘And when can we expect to see the finished production?’
‘On the twenty-eighth of September, Papa, all being well.’
‘And Lord Wincote? Has he not pressed you for an earlier answer?’
‘No, Papa.’
‘Then don’t give him one,’ James said so emphatically that Lavinia turned to him in surprise. Seeing Wincote in his place at Westminster that morning had given him a start. He had expected him to have gone off with Miss Doubleday but there he was, large as life and apparently intending to take his part in the debate. ‘He knows when he can expect his answer. He must be prepared for the wait.’
‘And if he is not?’ she asked him.
‘Then I must think there must be a reason for his haste.’
‘Of course there is. He is eager to make me his wife.’ Why, oh, why, did that little imp choose now, of all times, to sit on her shoulder and put words like that into her mouth? She did not care how eager he was. If only it were James who was impatiently awaiting her answer, she would not keep him waiting a single minute.
‘Still?’ he queried, lifting one eyebrow.
She knew exactly what he meant. ‘He called the next day and apologised,’ she said. ‘I was quite mistaken.’
‘What is this?’ Marcus asked, unaware of the tension between James and Lavinia. ‘Has there been some dissent?’
‘No, Papa,’ Lavinia put in quickly, casting a sideways glance at James. ‘I was disappointed Lord Wincote did not come to our last rehearsal, but it appears he had to attend to urgent business. He was most apologetic and I have forgiven him.’
‘And have you not even hinted to him what your answer will be?’ the Duke asked, while James fumed silently. How could she be so blind! Miss Doubleday was not nearly as clever as she thought she was and Edmund Wincote was even cleverer.
‘No, Papa, there would be no point in telling him he must wait for an answer if I also told him what that answer was going to be, would there?’
‘But you can tell me—us—surely?’
‘Is it important that you should know?’
‘Not immediately, but I would like to know before you communicate your decision to him. There are arrangements to be made. Your dowry—’
‘But, Papa, I thought that was not to be paid until we had been married for two years.’
The Duke laughed. ‘That was meant to put him off, if he was not sincere. You did not think I meant it, did you?’
She was alarmed. ‘You have not intimated as much to Lord Wincote, have you?’
‘Lavinia, the man has been most faithfully patient and not deviated from his intention, so we may assume that he is genuine in his regard for you. It is not fair to deceive him.’
‘So you have let him off the hook, your Grace,’ James said. His voice carried an edge of bitterness he could not disguise. No wonder the man had decided not to run away with Lady Rattenshaw, after all. Lavinia was the greater prize.
The Duke looked searchingly at him and then at his wife, who slowly shook her head, so he refrained from comment and smiled at Lavinia. ‘I had a short conversation with him while we were waiting for proceedings to begin but I made it clear the decision is yours. The important thing is that you know what you want. There is nothing more terrible than being married to the wrong person, believe me. I want you to be very sure.’
In the last three years she had learned a little about the life he had led with her mother, that they had been pushed into a marriage by their parents, a marriage that had been a disaster from the beginning, which was why they had led almost separate lives and why she had seen so little of him as a child. Family life as James and Augusta had experienced it was unknown to her. It was only since her father had married Frances that she was beginning to understand how happy it could be. With James. Only with James…
She shook herself and smiled. ‘I have no doubts, Papa.’ And before he could question her further, she turned to James. ‘What about it, James? A ride in the park tomorrow?’
‘I must be at Westminster before ten.’
‘Seven o’clock, then. If you can rouse yourself from your bed, that is.’
‘I will call for you at seven.’
He kept his word and was lifting the door knocker at precisely seven, but Lavinia was waiting for him, dressed in her most becoming habit, her eyes bright with nervous anticipation. If she told him she had refused Lord Wincote, then he would understand, wouldn’t he? And if he understood, he could not fail to see that she was not the child-sister she had once been and would say something, anything to give her hope. He would explain why his lips in the palm of her hand had wrought such a change and why he had done it.
‘Good morning, Vinny.’ He sounded inordinately cheerful, considering the early hour.
‘Good morning, my lord.’
He escorted her to the gate where her horse, already saddled, was being walked up and down by Tom, who helped her mount and then stood back as she set off along the almost deserted street.
‘No chaperon?’ James queried, as they rode side by side.
‘Why should I need a chaperon to ride with my brother?’ Her answer was instant, almost defiant.
‘Why indeed?’ he said. ‘Where shall we go?’
‘Green Park and you shall buy me some fresh milk. I have had no breakfast.’
The milkmaids in charge of the herd of cows which grazed in the park sold their milk by the beaker to anyone who fancied a drink. Foaming and still warm from the cow, it was very refreshing. Her thirst slaked, Lavinia trotted her horse along the path for a little way and then cut off across the grass, before putting her mare to the gallop. James followed.
For a few minutes she was able to forget everything else in the pleasure of riding. She enjoyed the feel of wind on her face, the horse beneath her, the strength of the mare’s muscles, the way her mane flew out and the way her ears pricked as if she, too, was enjoying herself. James, staying a little behind her, was filled with admiration and a terrible longing. He wanted her, needed her, could think of nothing but her, day and night, and they were not the thoughts of a brother.
