He shouldered his way through the milling guests and arrived at her side possessively slipping her arm through his - he intended to make sure that every male present knew Eliza belonged to him.
‘Fletcher, I’m so glad you’re here to take me in. This is worse than going to Almack’s as a debutante. I cannot tell you how nervous I’m feeling.’
He drew her closer before answering. ‘You look ravissante, my love. There is no one here your equal in looks or intelligence.’ He smiled at her incredulous expression. ‘I promise I am speaking the truth. Look around you, sweetheart, and you shall see a dozen gentlemen longing to be introduced.’
She did as he suggested and he saw the colour surge into her cheeks. ‘People are staring at us. I hate it. I think I shall go home again.’
‘You shall do no such thing. I intend to spend the entire evening at your side. I can assure you no-one will embarrass you.’
He felt the rigidity of her arm slowly dissipate. ‘I’m sure they won’t dare to even speak to me, Fletcher, if you are by my side with that ferocious scowl on your face.’
They were still laughing when they reached the head of the queue and the introductions were made. ‘You are very welcome, my dear Miss Fox.’ General Rebow boomed. ‘I cannot imagine how such a lovely young lady has been allowed to hide away in Dedham for so long.’
Eliza curtsied gracefully and made a suitably demure reply, but her pulse was still unnaturally fast. She wasn’t sure if it was the proximity of her escort that was causing this or being obliged to meet so many members of society. She still had the scars from her unpleasant debut many years ago.
Fletcher squeezed her hand in sympathy and then led her smoothly through the gawping crowd to the drawing-room. The strangers were not the only ones to watch them closely. She saw Lord Wydale following their progress and his dark eyes narrowed in annoyance. His hard stare sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.
Three hours later she had waltzed three times with her soon to be fiancé and felt like the belle of the ball. For the first time in her life she had danced with a man who could match her step for step and didn’t make her feel clumsy. She had floated around the room in his arms her face radiant. When she hadn’t been dancing with Fletcher she had been at his side listening to him talking knowledgeably about politics and the latest on dits from Town.
‘Come, sweetheart, allow me to take you in to supper. I believe that Mrs Fox and
Edmund are already at a table.’
‘I’m too excited to eat, but I would like a cooling drink of lemonade.’
The evening passed too quickly and like Cinderella she found herself in her coach just before midnight. Her mother tapped her archly on the arm with her folded fan.
‘My dear, you have made a match of it. Anyone can see that Mr Reed is besotted with you.’
Eliza sighed. ‘And I with him, Mama. I believe he will make me an offer after our party next week.’
‘I should think so.’ Edmund said from the corner of the darkened vehicle. ‘If he didn’t after his display of partiality this evening I should be obliged to call him out.’
This piece of nonsense sent Eliza into a fit of giggles and Edmund into a dudgeon. He spoke no more. Her mother slept leaving her to dream about her forthcoming wedding and trying to imagine what she might expect to experience in the marriage bed. The very thought sent her temperature soaring and she had recourse to use her fan vigorously in order to restore her composure.
‘Tell me again about the party, Liza, please…. please.’
‘Sarah I’ve already told you four times - you must know what happened as well as I do.’ Eliza set down her sewing with a smile. ‘I know, why don’t you tell me about it and then I can listen?’
She was able to allow her mind to wander during this recital, back to the magical moment when Fletcher had swept her around the ballroom making her feel like one of
Sarah’s princesses. A sharp pain in her thigh caused her to look down. Inadvertently she had attempted to stitch her leg to her embroidery.
She stared at the material. What had possessed her to attempt to embroider a cushion cover? She knew as much about sewing as she did about preserving fruit - which has absolutely nothing. Tossing the cloth to one side she jumped up startling her sister who was attempting to build a house out of bricks.
As her walls tumbled down Sarah side with frustration. ‘I was trying to build a castle. To you think that Lord Wydale has a castle? Is he coming to see me again?’
Eliza frowned. She’d hoped that her sister had forgotten her infatuation with the repellent lord. She flushed as she remembered overhearing him telling one of the guests this remark and hated him for it. The sooner Fletcher spoke to her mother and made their engagement official the better; then this debt of honour could be settled and forgotten.
* * * *
The days until the party dragged. Fletcher had warned her he would not be able to visit before then as his host and hostess had a series of engagements planned from which he could not extract himself without appearing uncivil.
Friday eventually arrived and she was downstairs in her oldest clothes at first light helping to arrange the flowers in the ballroom and dining room. Her mother found her finishing a stunning arrangement of garden blooms for the enormous fireplace in the drawing room.
‘Eliza, you must have been up with the lark. The flowers are wonderful, my dear, but it’s time for you to go up and change then take yourself off for a gallop around the park. You need to release some of your energy for you’re coiled as tightly as a spring.’
‘There, I’ve finished. I shall do is you suggest, Mama, and have my breakfast when I return. I’m so glad you decided to hold this party early. Waiting until eight o’clock for our guests to arrive would have been purgatory.’
* * * *
At half past four the house was shining, the staff in their best, the stables ready to receive the carriages, and the Fox family resplendent in full evening dress. Eliza had chosen tonight to wear her favourite gown, a damask silk creation with a demi-train. As she juggled with her fan, reticule and the ribbon that held her train from under her feet, she was beginning to wish she had selected something less elaborate.
‘Liza, you look like a pink princess tonight. I think Lord Wydale will like you better than me.’ Sarah tugged at the lemon yellow sash that encircled the high-waist of her delicate dimity gown. ‘Mama, why can’t I have a dress like that?’
‘You have been warned, Sarah. If you cannot remain quiet then Jane is going to take you upstairs and you will miss the dancing. I know that I have promised you may have one dance with Edmund, but that depends on your good behaviour.’
‘I’m sorry, Mama, I shall be good now.’
Eliza released her breath with a sigh. She thought it was a bad idea to allow her sister to attend this event. Sarah’s obsession with Wydale could make things decidedly awkward. She wouldn’t put it past that loathsome man to single Sarah out just to embarrass the family.
‘Edmund, can I have a private word, before our guests arrive?’ Her brother followed her out into the hallway and across to the study.
‘I can guess what it is, Liza.’ He was grinning at her and she knew he was expecting to be told that Fletcher was to make her an offer that night.
‘I doubt that you can. I am concerned about Sarah’s interest in Lord Wydale. Can I ask you to keep an eye on that man? After all he would not be here….’
‘You have no need to remind me, Liza. If that man goes within arm’s reach of my little sister he will regret it.’
‘There will be no need for heroics, I am only asking you to ensure that Sarah does not get out of her depth.’ Impulsively she stepped across and embraced him. ‘Anyway, if you hadn’t gambled away our house I should not have met Mr Reed, so I forgive you.’
The sound of wheels on gravel alerted them to the arrival of their first guests. Glancing down to check her hems were straight and her décolletage in place Eliz
a ran lightly back to join her mother in the drawing-room. The hall was too narrow to greet arrivals so Mrs Fox waited in the drawing-room.
Several local families had arrived and some were gossiping happily at the far end of the long drawing-room whilst others had drifted out onto the terrace to enjoy the early evening sunshine. The French doors in both the drawing-room and ballroom had been left open for this very reason.
Sarah was sitting upright on a small gilt chair, her companion by her side, drinking in every moment of her first evening event. Eliza smiled at her sister just as Fletcher and Lord Wydale wandered in. She had no idea the impact she made on both men.
‘My lord, Mr Reed, how kind of you to come. Do you wish me to introduce you to any of the guests?’
Lord Wydale merely nodded, a supercilious smile on his handsome face, but Fletcher bowed deeply. ‘Good evening, madam. We are honoured to have been invited to your delightful home.’ He grinned at Edmund and moved quickly to stand in front of Eliza.
She sunk into a deep curtsey and he reached out capturing her hand then raising it to his lips. As he kissed her knuckles she felt a flash of heat and unconsciously swayed towards him. His mouth quirked in response and he drew her to his side, effectively cutting Wydale out. Eliza saw the venomous look that was directed at her partner’s back and for a second her happiness dimmed.
But there was no time to worry – she was soon caught up in a flurry of locals all eager to be introduced to the two wealthy gentlemen form Town. It was not often that members of the ton graced a local soirée. In the excitement of the evening, the delight of waltzing three times with Fletcher , Eliza forgot to keep an eye on her sister. When supper was announced she remembered and looked round anxiously, but Sarah was not present.
‘Fletcher, I have to find Sarah. I asked Edmund to keep an eye on her, but as you can see he’s dancing with a local beauty.’
‘We shall search together, sweetheart.’
Sarah was nowhere inside and neither was Lord Wydale. With sinking heart Eliza hurried through the crowd and out onto the terrace. Although it was well lit with flambeaux there were areas of shadow in which couples could be private. She prayed that Sarah was not amongst them.
‘Fletcher, where is she? And where is Wydale?’
‘Relax, my love, he’s safely ensconced in a game of chance in the study. Several of the gentlemen went through to play an hour ago. Wherever your sister is, she’s not with him.’
‘Thank God! If they are not together then I am no longer worried. I expect Sarah’s retired. Mama said she was to go up before supper.’
She turned to go back inside but his hand restrained her. ‘Please, don’t go back just yet. We have had no time together tonight.’
‘What flummery! We have spent the entire evening in each other’s company.’
His words brushed over her cheeks like gossamer. ‘I’m talking about private time, darling girl.’
Before she could protest she was in his arms and his firm lips closed over hers. This time she knew what to do and softened her mouth allowing him access to the moist interior. She leant against him, her limbs too weak to support her, wondering about the strange heat that pooled in her most intimate place.
It was he who drew the embrace to a halt. He untangled her arms from his neck and gently held her away. ‘Enough, my darling, we have already overstepped what’s even permissible between betrothed couples. And we’re not even that at the moment.’
It was several minutes before Eliza felt ready to answer. She allowed the cool of the house wall to soothe her overheated body and the gentle breeze to fan her scarlet cheeks.
‘Fletcher, I don’t understand what happens to me when you hold me. I become a different person – am no longer in control of myself.’
‘It’s called passion, sweetheart. Something best enjoyed in the privacy of a bedroom – and between man and wife.’
They heard footsteps and breathy giggles approaching and stiffened, but whoever it was passed them by, more concerned with their own clandestine meeting then looking for others doing the same.
‘Shall we go in for supper? ‘ Eliza was pleased her voice sounded quite normal.
‘Of course.’ He tucked her hand into his arm and they strolled, in complete accord, back through the French doors and into a nearly deserted drawing-room.
‘Everyone must have repaired to the supper table.’ Eliza pulled her hand free in order to smooth back her hair and shake out invisible creases from her gown.
‘Eliza, I shall come tomorrow to speak to your mother.’
‘So I should hope, sir,’ she relied archly, ‘after the liberties you have taken tonight.’
He laughed out loud. ‘Baggage! Shall I ride with you first?’
‘Yes, please join me. Shall we go out at seven thirty- no-one will be up then.’
The matter settled to both their satisfaction they rejoined the company and when she eventually fell into her bed Eliza was incandescent with joy. Tomorrow she would become the future wife of the most wonderful man in the world. She fell asleep certain that her future was settled and all her worries were over.
Chapter Ten
The next morning was overcast and heavy rain threatened. Eliza was not deterred and headed for the stables nonetheless. A little rain had never bothered her before and the thought that Fletcher would be joining her gave her the added impetus to brave the elements. However as she reached the archway the heaven’s opened and she was forced to return, at a run, to the house. Disappointed that Fletcher would not come in the rain she wandered disconsolately to the breakfast parlour. Maybe it was an April shower and they could go out for their ride later on.
* * * *
Fletcher was halfway to Grove House when the downpour started and he too turned back. He could not present himself to Mrs Fox dripping wet. Back at the inn he hurried upstairs to speak to Wydale. He had decided to confront him about the debt and demand that he allowed the matter to be settled between them. He knocked on Wydale’s sitting-room and walked in not waiting for permission to do so.
‘Ah, there you are, Fletcher, old fellow. When the landlady told me you had gone out in this weather I could hardly credit the information. Where have you been in such a downpour?’
Fletcher closed the door behind him with slow deliberation. It was as if his eyes were finally open and he could see the man lounging before him as he truly was. There was not a spark of humanity in his face to temper the ruthlessness.
‘I have been to Grove House to see Miss Fox. I intend to buy back what you took from that young man. I will not let you turn them out of their house. You will sell those vowels to me, it matters not to you where the thirty thousand guineas come from; either way you’ll be rich.’
He saw the habitual sneer spread across the man’s face. ‘So that is how the land lies, is it? You have taken a shine to the older sister. Excellent. You may have her, but I intend to have the younger one.’
Fletcher felt a surge of white hot rage pour through him. He clenched his fists, holding himself in check with difficulty. He managed to keep his voice even, hiding his feelings.
‘Sarah is not available and especially not to someone like you.’
Wydale shrugged. ‘Did you think I had not realized she’s a simpleton? I do not intend to marry the chit, merely amuse myself. She will have no need for conversation when lying flat on her back.’
Fletcher stretched forward and seized him by the throat, lifting him by one hand from his chair, sending the breakfast crockery crashing to the floor. Without a second thought his right hand swung back to smash into the grinning face of his erstwhile friend.
The force of the blow hit Wydale’s nose with a satisfying crunch and blood splattered his white shirt front. Fletcher wanted to finish the job, to smash his face to a pulp, but somehow restrained himself. How could he ever have considered this man worthy of his friendship? He was an animal, no worse than that for animals did not deliberately misuse each other.
Unable to speak, Wydale’s eyes said it all. Never had Fletcher seen such hatred, such malevolence in a human being. He had made an implacable enemy, and despite his superior size could not prevent a shiver of apprehension slithering down his spine.
He towered over the prostrate body. ‘If you go near Miss Fox or her sister I shall kill you.’
On impulse he turned and snatched up Wydale’s topcoat, which was hanging carelessly from the back of a chair. He reached inside and located the pocket then withdrew the envelope that contained the IOUs. Without a second thought he pushed them into his own pocket and strode out.
He would never acknowledge Wydale again and none of his friends would either. When he was next in Town he would make sure he was blackballed from all the clubs. Wydale was the ruined man now, not Edmund Fox.
He retuned to his rooms and told Sam to pack his bags. He wished to distance himself form the vile creature in the next chambers. ‘I’m going over to Grove House. Have things ready for my return.’
His horse had been rubbed down and was re-saddled in a jiffy by his groom, Billy.
‘It’s stopped raining, sir. Quite pleasant out now. You’ll not get wet again this morning.’
‘Thank you, Billy. I shall be back later and we shall be leaving here. I’ll let you know where we’re going when I return. But we’re not going with Lord Wydale in his carriage. I’m afraid you’ll have to make your own way back to Town.’
Fletcher cantered down the long drive to Grove House and discovered that Eliza had already left for a belated ride. He knew exactly where she would be waiting for him – in the folly on the other side of the lake. Sure enough she was sitting inside her lovely face alight with happiness at his appearance.
After a blissful few minutes on the bench Fletcher sat back, caressing her hand. ‘My love, I have left an envelope for Edmund at the house. It contains his IOUs. He is out of debt, you no longer need to sell your shares.’
Fenella J. Miller Page 8
