James said nothing, but stood twirling the empty glass in his hand. She watched him for a moment or two and her anger faded. Her eyes softened and she said more gently, ‘I think I was right. You are in love. Who is she? And what has happened to make you so unhappy?’
James went to pour out another brandy. He offered it first to his grandmother, but when she refused it he drank it down and said abruptly, ‘Her name, I think, is Anne. I wanted to bring her here to you. But I can’t find her. I’ve thrown Hatherton into confusion, I’ve reduced Cully to tears, but all that counts for nothing beside the fact that I’ve lost Anne. Have you heard from Cully at all?’
‘No, I haven’t. James, what is this all about? Who is this girl? You obviously met her at Hatherton.’
‘Sam and I found her the night we rode down…’
James slowly told his grandmother the story of Anne, ending with an account of his return to Hatherton from Guildford. He told her what Anne had said in the note she had left for him, and told her of his attempts to find her since. He ended by saying, ‘I’m sure that if you were ever to meet her you would understand why I feel as I do.’
For a moment there was silence in the room. His grandmother had listened attentively and now sat, obviously considering how to reply. After a moment she said slowly, ‘I don’t propose to lecture you, James. This isn’t the moment, though you are aware of my hopes and plans for the Aldhurst family. It seems to me, however, that this girl has faced the situation more realistically than you, and has made up her mind to end your association. She said as much in her letter.’ James shook his head and was about to speak, but Lady Aldhurst tapped her stick on the floor and went on impatiently, ‘No, let me finish. She may well love you, but she must know that you would risk becoming a social outcast if you either lived with her or married her after a divorce. She left Hatherton of her own free will, and at a time when she knew you were not there to stop her. What is more, she appears to have found a refuge of some sort since. She might even have recovered her memory and gone back to her husband! No, no! My advice to you must be to forget her.’
‘You are assuming she is married,’ said James, tight-lipped.
‘It seems likely. There’s the ring.’ She frowned. ‘You seem very sure she was honest. But was she? After all, you knew her for hardly more than a week. She told you she was a prisoner in that coach—but perhaps the coach belonged to her husband? She might have been running away from an unhappy marriage and this was an attempt to stop her. Drastically, perhaps, but within his rights. Or…perhaps the situation was even worse? Who was the man in the pool of blood? Her friend? Her lover? An accomplice? No, no, James. Give her up—you are better without her. Especially as she apparently doesn’t wish to be found.’
James turned away. After a moment he said, ‘I don’t believe that Anne is dishonest, and I find it very hard to believe that she is married. She is as true, as straight as any man could want. I won’t give her up. I can’t. At the very least I have to know the truth. I have to!’
Lady Aldhurst sighed and shook her head. ‘Then I can only hope that the truth isn’t too hurtful when you do find it.’ She shrugged her shoulders and added less sympathetically, ‘Meanwhile, I expect you to show some spirit, James. Take me to the Carterets’ ball tomorrow night. Honoria Carteret has managed to snare Sir Henry Calverley as her guest of honour, which is a real feather in her cap. You could make your acquaintance with his daughter—he will probably have her with him. And who knows? The girl might help you to forget this unfortunate affair at Hatherton.’ Ignoring the impatient shake of his head, she went on calmly, ‘If Barbara Furness is there too you can support each other in your misery. But for heaven’s sake don’t give the tabbies more food for gossip!’
* * *
On the night of Lady Carteret’s ball, Antonia sat at her dressing table, gazing at herself in the mirror. Someone had left a bowl of violets on the table, and their delicate scent hung in the air. Martha had brushed her hair till it shone, and, in defiance of current fashion decrees, it had been drawn back from her face and coiled high at the back of her head in the Spanish fashion. The pearl-and-crystal aigrette she had inherited from her mother was held in its folds. Her eyes were large and dark in the candlelight, her cheeks delicately flushed. Madame Rosa’s white dress suited her perfectly, but her neck and shoulders looked rather bare. ‘I could wear a length of ribbon round my neck instead of jewellery,’ she thought, and was visited by a strange feeling that she had sat in front of a mirror and said exactly the same thing not long before. She was still trying to remember where it had been when Lady Pendell came in carrying a leather case and opened it to show her a magnificent string of pearls. ‘Your father wants you to wear the Calverley pearls tonight, Antonia. They belonged to your grandmother.’
‘I know,’ said Antonia, absently. ‘She’s wearing them in one of the portraits in the dining room.’
Lady Pendell frowned. ‘There isn’t a portrait of your grandmother in the dining room, my dear.’
‘Isn’t there? I could have sworn…Are you sure? She’s wearing an old-fashioned striped brocade dress, with these pearls. I can see it quite clearly.’
‘Your grandmother’s portrait is in the salon, and she is wearing a ribbon round her neck, not pearls. It was quite a fashion in her day. Her dress is of flowered silk. I don’t know which portrait you have in mind, but it isn’t that one. I don’t remember a striped dress in any of the others, either.’
Antonia saw that her aunt was looking worried, and made herself laugh. ‘Don’t look like that! I must have been thinking of someone else’s portrait, that’s all. Would you help me to put the pearls on?’
But after her aunt had left Antonia went back and stared into the mirror. The scent of violets was tantalisingly familiar…She saw herself wearing an old-fashioned striped dress with a black velvet ribbon round her neck. Her eyes were dark in the candlelight, her cheeks were flushed and one long curl rested on her shoulder. She looked like a girl about to meet someone she loved. The scent of the violets was getting stronger…For a moment Antonia was full of excitement and intense anticipation…Then the image faded, and she saw herself once again in her new white dress, with her mother’s aigrette in her hair and her grandmother’s pearls round her neck. The feeling of anticipation faded, leaving behind it an inexplicably sharp sense of loss—a feeling that was becoming increasingly frequent…
She got up and walked restlessly round the room. Was she suffering from hallucinations? The reflection had been very clear, but when had she ever worn a striped, tight-waisted, low-cut dress, like the one in the portrait? The dress was at least forty years out of date. She felt a shiver run down her spine. This was not the first time she had had a curious flash of…of what? Memory? Whatever it was, she was always left with the same pain in her heart, the same haunting sense of loss. Anxious not to worry her father, she had not talked of them. But tonight the image in the mirror had been more vivid, and the feeling of loss more intense than ever before. That girl had looked so happy…
She shook her head impatiently. She was being absurd! It was nothing—merely nerves at the prospect of the ball. What she saw in the mirror was Antonia Calverley in her grandmother’s pearls, about to have her introduction to London society.
* * *
No one observing Lord Aldhurst escorting his grandmother to Marchant House the next evening would have thought there was anything amiss. They were a handsome pair. Lady Aldhurst, straight-backed and dignified, hardly using her silver-topped cane, wore black as usual, but her dress was of heavy corded silk, the lace round her shoulders was Honiton, and her diamonds flashed and glittered in the light of the flambeaux surrounding the entrance. Lord Aldhurst, looking completely at ease in superbly cut evening clothes, ushered his grandmother up the steps, bowed over his hostess’s hand with a smile, waited for Lady Aldhurst to finish her conversation with the Carterets, and then accompanied her into the crowded rooms. Many a female heart fluttered at the sight
of his tall figure as he made his way slowly past them, and some even hopefully fluttered their eyelashes. But he ignored them all, merely nodding at one or two friends without stopping, until he found somewhere where his grandmother could sit in comfort to observe the scene and exchange gossip.
‘Thank you, James,’ said Lady Aldhurst after she had greeted two of her cronies. ‘If you can manage to steer one of those flunkeys in my direction, I shall be perfectly happy to let you go!’
‘I shall fetch whatever you want myself, ma’am. And I have no wish to desert you at the moment. Brandy? Ratafia? A glass of fruit punch, perhaps?’
‘I’ll have the fruit punch. It won’t do me any harm—the Carterets are too cheese-paring to make it strong enough. But it’s probably better for me than wine.’ James nodded and set off in search of the refreshment tables. When he returned his grandmother was deep in conversation with her companion. She accepted the punch and beckoned to him to sit in the empty chair next to her. ‘Lady Carson here has been telling me about tonight’s “lion”.’
‘Lion?’
‘Come, James, I told you! Honoria Carteret always manages to have someone of distinction at her evening occasions, and, as I thought, tonight she has snared Sir Henry Calverley. She must be delighted with her success—he has lived very quietly since his arrival in London. In fact, this is the first time he has been seen in public since his return from overseas.’ She glanced at James with a gleam in her eyes. ‘You might even meet Sir Henry’s daughter tonight, James. He will probably have her with him. This will be her first appearance too.’
‘She is certainly here,’ said Lady Carson. ‘Sir Henry would apparently like to find a husband for her. But, dear Lady Aldhurst, look over there. Is that not Barbara Furness over by the arch? Have you heard how she treated poor Rothmuir? I wonder she has the impudence to appear tonight. And why on earth is she standing there alone? The girl has no sense of at all of what is proper!’
The ballroom at Marchant House had a long row of arches that formed a narrow arcade running down one side. Large urns stood at intervals in niches in the wall and tonight they had been filled with trailing greenery, which had been lifted up to decorate the arches above. Perhaps conscious of the charming picture she made, Lady Barbara Furness stood under one of these, a slender figure in green, with honey-gold curls framing a perfect face. She was gazing wistfully at the scene before her.
Lady Carson went on, ‘They say her mother threatened to cast her off, but as usual Furness supported his daughter. And I must admit the prospect of living permanently in the Highlands of Scotland married to a man twice her age must have seemed daunting. One might wonder why she was foolish enough to consider it.’ She paused. ‘On the other hand, the poor girl’s reasons for wishing to leave London were perfectly understandable. Perfectly!’ she added, giving James a basilisk stare of disapproval.
James returned her look with one of his most charming smiles, excused himself to his grandmother and went over to greet Lady Barbara. She looked at him gratefully and said, ‘Oh, James, I am so glad to see you. I was beginning to think my friends had deserted me tonight. People can be so very unkind.’ Her slight lisp was enchanting, but her green eyes looked at him sadly, as if he was her sole source of comfort in a cruel world. However, James had known Barbara Furness for many years, and was not at all deceived. Some unfortunate swain, probably Harry Barcombe, was even now fetching her shawl or her fan or a glass of lemonade, and another would be eagerly waiting for his chance to serve. The tabbies could condemn her as severely as they wished—Barbara did not give a fig.
Years ago she had been sincerely in love with his brother, John, but Lady Furness had refused to let her daughter ‘throw herself away’ on a younger son. James privately thought that if John had survived just a year or two longer Barbara would have married him with or without her mother’s consent. But John had died, and since then she had developed into an accomplished flirt. James was frequently amused by the cavalier manner in which she treated her suitors, but he was not above criticising her for it, especially when it involved one of his friends.
‘Where is Harry?’ he asked.
‘Harry? Oh, yes. He went to fetch me something to drink. I was so thirsty. He wanted me to go with him, but I was hoping to see you, so I stayed here. I’ve put your name down on my card for the next dance.’ She held it out. ‘See?’
He gave her a stern look. ‘Barbara, I’m happy to see you back in London. But I hope you are not going to start your tricks again. Harry is a friend of mine. You hurt him once before. You mustn’t do it again. If you don’t intend to marry him, then you must leave him alone.’
‘He’s a younger son. Mama wouldn’t let me marry John, and she would never let me accept Harry, either.’ She looked at him over her fan, a characteristic touch of mischief in her eyes. ‘Now if you were to make an offer…’
‘You know very well we shouldn’t suit. Tell me why you told the world that you were leaving for Scotland because I had broken your heart. I’m not even sure you have one to break. Was it to punish me?’
‘I was very nearly broken-hearted, James! I had fallen out with Harry completely. And then you were so rude about the way I had treated him…So I gave in to Mama’s decision to take me to Scotland, just to show I didn’t care. I never had the slightest intention of marrying Rothmuir, of course. Do you know, James, Rothmuir was old, but he was very sweet! When I explained the situation he was so understanding!’
James began to laugh. ‘What on earth did you say to him?’
Barbara gave him a mischievous look. ‘That was easy! I didn’t actually have to say much at all, once he had met Mama. A few tears from me, a few acid comments made by Mama when she didn’t know he was listening, and he decided to remain a bachelor. He kissed me fondly, hoped we had enjoyed our stay with him, and bade us all a relieved farewell.’
When James had finished laughing, he said, ‘You still haven’t told me why you pretended that I was the cause of your misery.’
‘I did it on impulse—to punish you for telling me it was my fault that Harry and I had fallen out. I thought you were very unfair! But I only said it to Lady Carson.’
‘You must have known that was as good as telling the whole of London!’
‘Er…was there a great deal of gossip about us, James?’ she asked innocently, looking at him over her fan.
‘I didn’t care about the gossip, but there was enough to upset my grandmother. Harry wasn’t too pleased either, and, if he hadn’t believed me when I said it was rubbish, I might have lost a friend. Don’t ever do it to me again! And I’d advise you not to risk tormenting Harry any more, either. He’s fonder of you than you deserve, but his patience won’t last for ever. Here he comes now.’
Harry Barcombe, looking rather warm in his Guards uniform, beamed as he came towards them, carefully carrying a glass of lemonade. ‘There you are, my dear,’ he said cheerfully, handing it to the lady with a little bow. Then he turned to his friend. ‘What are y’doin’ here, James? I thought you were still at Hatherton. Lady Aldhurst isn’t ill again, is she?’
‘No, no! Her health is a lot better than it was. She’s over there with Lady Carson…’
The music started at that moment, and Lady Barbara tapped her foot and looked wistful again. ‘Harry, I would really like to dance with James, but now you have brought me this drink, I can’t. I have nowhere to put it. Please get rid of it for me.’
‘No, no!’ said James. ‘I’ll look after the drink and you can dance with Harry. Remember what I said!’ He took the glass and turned to put it down by the urn inside the niche. And as he did so he caught a glimpse of a girl at the other end of the arcade. The carriage, the tilt of the chin, the burnished chestnut hair…She turned, and when she saw him she smiled. The glass in his hand tipped over, spilling what was left in it on to the floor, but he didn’t notice. Deaf to Barbara’s little scream of dismay, deaf to Harry’s ‘Good Lord, James!’ he pushed his way as quickly as he c
ould through the crowds to the other end of the room. That girl was Anne!
Chapter Eleven
It took James some time to make his way through the crowd, and he lost sight of Anne for a moment. But then he saw her. She had turned away and was talking and laughing with a group of people, most of whom he knew. He came to a halt, shaken by a sudden spurt of anger. He would have expected her to look for him, wait for him, even come to meet him. What the devil did she think she was doing? And why hadn’t she let him know she was safe before now? She must know how worried he had been. He started pushing his way through the crowd again. But as he drew close enough to see her more clearly he began to wonder if he was making a mistake. Superbly dressed in white and gold, with a gleam of pearls and a glitter of crystal, this was a perfectly self-possessed young woman, fully at ease with some of the most distinguished people in London. She was totally different from the vulnerable girl he had known at Hatherton. Could his Anne possibly have changed so much? Or had his longing to find her again deceived him into seeing her in a stranger? He stopped to watch.
‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ He had been joined by Charles Stainforth, a friend of his grandmother’s and a notorious gossip.
Still not certain, James nodded, and said as casually as he could, ‘Who is she? I’d like to meet her.’
‘My dear fellow, half of London would like to meet Miss Calverley!’
‘Miss Calverley! Sir Henry Calverley’s daughter?’ James concealed his astonishment with an effort. He had indeed deceived himself. Anne could not possibly be Antonia Calverley. She had spent over a week with him at Hatherton, and the absence of Sir Henry Calverley’s daughter would certainly have raised speculation and comment. He had heard nothing and, more to the point, neither had his grandmother.
Reawakening Miss Calverley Page 13
