Harriet, who had allowed him to beat her, being in fact a superior player owing to her father’s instruction, was aware that the Marquis of Capel came and leaned on the back of her chair from time to time and watched the game, but the Duke waved him away.
“Be off, my boy! I know she’s as pretty as a picture, and I understand she’s devilish good at looking after the sick, but she’s uncannily good at moving these pieces about the board, and unless I keep my weather eye well open I’m going to be beaten fairly and squarely. Now, run away, Capel, and talk to your sister. No doubt she’d like to hear the full story of your recent exploits, even if they don’t cover you in very much glory.”
The Marquis wandered away, and Harriet wondered how she was going to continue to concentrate on the game. She and Lady Fanny were leaving Hollowthorne very early in the morning, and it was unlikely that she and Richard Wendover would find any further opportunity to discuss their exploits of the past few days. She had sensed that the Marquis wished very badly to talk to her, but he did not dare to override his father, and when he was dismissed he flung out of the room and there came the sound of an outer door closing.
Harriet thought of him wandering the flower-bordered paths in the light of a risen moon looking so shatteringly handsome. And she thought of the Earl of Headcorn’s beautiful daughter driving in some state into Hampshire to be a guest at Capel, and as a result she made an unwise move which brought forth a little chuckle of delight from his grace.
“Now, now,” he cautioned, “not so impetuous, m’dear! That was a damned silly thing to do!”
And a few seconds later she had surrendered her bishop, and a few seconds later still the game was his.
Lady Fanny was seated at the piano and demonstrating the high degree of talent she possessed, with Charles Cavendish bending over her and turning the sheets of music for her, when Harriet left the room, and a lively polonaise followed her as she climbed the stairs to her new little room which was no more than an attic room under the eaves. By the time she reached the gallery, which was a chequerboard of light and shadow—crystal clear moonlight and infinitely black shadow—the music was a faint and faraway echo, and since she had neglected to collect her candle from the hall table she had to grope her way forward in somewhat unfamiliar surroundings. A tall shadow appearing suddenly before her very nearly startled her out of her wits, manifesting itself as it did out of one of the denser patches of sable gloom, and only the Marquis’s voice prevented her from uttering a cry of alarm.
“Oh, brave heart!” Lord Capel said mockingly. “To have ventured as far as this with never a light to show you the way!”
“I forgot to collect my candle,” Harriet explained quietly, and stood still in front of him, aware that he was watching her with exceedingly bright and lustrous eyes.
“Did you intend to leave here in the morning without wishing me farewell?” he asked her.
“I—I supposed I might have an opportunity to say goodbye to you before we left,” she answered.
“But I am not, as you know, an early riser, and I understand my sister wishes to be away before the cocks start to crow.”
“She—she does wish to make an early start, yes.”
“Then we had better say our farewells while there is no one on hand to witness the tender nature of them, don’t you agree?”
“I—do trust your lordship will make a complete recovery very soon,” she responded somewhat hurriedly, and then realised that he had moved until he was within a foot or so of the spot where she herself was standing.
“And that is all? After such a short but intimate acquaintance is there nothing more than that that you have to say to me?”
“Only that—I shall do my best to look after Verbena, my lord, and to fall in with the plans your sister is making for her. I understand there will be no problems in future in connection with her upkeep.”
“Financial problems, you mean? Oh, no,” carelessly, “I shall release whatever monies are needed for her support, and for the support of the two boys. And naturally I shall pay you your salary, which is almost certainly in serious arrears. You need only to apply to her for whatever is required whenever it is required.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, and thought that the lustrous eyes surveying her developed a positive glint of mockery.
“As my father has it, you are as pretty as a picture, my dear, and as you are also a highly capable nurse I feel that some encouragement should be offered to you, and certainly some reward, and I would like you to purchase on my behalf some small present which might appeal to you as soon as you reach London. My sister will advise you, and naturally she will receive instructions to pay for whatever it is. You must look upon it as a token of my deep appreciation for all that you have done for me—and believe me, I consider you did a good deal!”
Harriet felt herself stiffening a little at the barely veiled insolence of his tone, and she half turned away as if she would leave him without further ado, but although she did not actually see him move she realised that he had successfully prevented her from escaping along the gallery as she had planned.
“Don’t be in so much obvious haste to leave me, Harriet,” he protested. “After tonight you and I may not see each other again for a very long time. As you are probably aware, I have various duties to perform, both as my father’s eldest son and a prospective bridegroom! If you think of me at all, you must think of me dancing attendance on the so-beautiful Lady Rowena ... And, believe me, there are few women in England who can hold a candle to her! She is quite ravishing, and almost unbelievably accomplished. My sister is of the opinion that Capel is a most appropriate background for her, and I am inclined to agree with her. Capel sadly needs a mistress who will shine like a jewel in a setting which must have been specially designed for her. At least, that is how I look upon it ... Fate is so clever at arranging these matters, don’t you agree?”
Harriet remained silent.
The Marquis sighed suddenly.
“But you have ministered to me so very tenderly, Harriet, that I shall miss you very much indeed. I am by no means certain Lady Rowena will have the same facility for watching over me as you have done. However, in life there is always something to regret, is there not?”
As Harriet continued to remain silent he sighed again.
“You have no conversation tonight, Harriet, and that is a pity since we have to part. But remember that all good—and bad—things come to an end. Tomorrow at this time I shall be far away from here, and you will be at my sister’s house in London. You will not be dull, for I am fairly certain my brother Bruce plans to follow you, and perhaps one day you will take pity on him and marry him. As a family we would be very grateful to you if you did that, for he has served his country well, poor fellow, and had little reward. And think how well you would fit in here at Hollowthorne if I bestowed it on you as a present!”
She attempted to push past him, but he seized her hands and pulled her up against him with a degree of roughness which took her aback.
“Oh, no, Harriet,” he said huskily, “you will not escape me before we have wished one another a suitable goodbye. Even if I am to marry Lady Rowena she will not grudge me this!”
And his arms fastened about her so tightly that she could not possibly escape, and when she attempted to avert her face his hand forced it out into the open and she felt his kisses descending on her unprotected cheeks and chin and brow—descending like rain. And then his hot lips found her mouth, and her futile efforts to keep him at bay collapsed altogether, and she was completely still in his arms. The ancient gallery with its portraits and its pools of moonlight whirled about her, but he was quite unable to exact a response. Even her eyes refused to meet the blaze of frustrated passion in his and remained tightly shut.
He let her go at last, and her eyes flew open and met his with disdain.
“I think that was contemptible, my lord,” she said, “and it’s a pity I have to remember you with contempt. If
I ever rendered you a service it should have deserved something better than that.”
And she sped away from him along the gallery, without his making the smallest effort to detain her.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
They left Hollowthorne very early the following morning, before the sun was well up and warming the world, and while there was still an indescribable freshness in the air which Harriet found very pleasing. Lady Fanny was not accustomed to rising at an early hour and her mood was a little peevish, but she was eager to be back in Hill Street with as little delay as possible.
For the house in Hill Street might be small, but it was equipped with everything a widow in her position could possibly need, which caused her friends to envy her. Hollowthorne, in her opinion, was no better than a crumbling ruin set in rural surroundings, and it always depressed her.
Lord Bruce stood in the doorway of the Elizabethan house—very mellow at that hour, Harriet thought, with the rosy red bricks veiled in soft morning mist, and the gardens giving off an entrancing assortment of perfumes—and looked a little wistful as he waved them goodbye. He was leaning on a stick, and his empty sleeve seemed to hang disconsolately at his side. Now that he no longer had a personal manservant and Rawlins had to do duty for a valet as well as acting the part of a general factotum inside the house the folds of his cravat were a little awry, and his general appearance was not as impeccable as it might have been.
Lady Fanny did her best to smile brightly at him, although her conscience was plaguing her a little, but the only comment she made was in connection with the Marquis making no attempt to see them off.
“But then that is all one might expect of Richard,” she remarked a little acidly. “After all the inconvenience one has put oneself to over him and his affairs, this is one’s reward. Not even a promise to return to London in time to be present at my ball next month.”
“Are you giving a ball, my lady?” Harriet asked, feeling some such enquiry was expected of her, although her eyes were on the windows of the house as they turned into the drive—and in particular the great window above the staircase which overlooked the hall, where it was just possible that someone might have been observing their departure.
“Yes, and it is to be a really extravagant affair, given for my niece who will be out this season. One might have thought an uncle would have displayed some small concern for a niece in such circumstances, do you not think?”
Harriet, who could not imagine the Marquis of Capel taking any interest in the affairs of a niece—unless she happened to be remarkably pretty and beguiling—found it necessary to agree. But as she did so she thought she detected a movement at the window at which she gazed so earnestly, and a feeling of extraordinary relief assailed her. The Marquis, after all, was not lying in bed ... Or was he? Was it simply and solely her imagination, coupled with a desire to believe that he might be doing something entirely different, such as observing her departure? Never in all her twenty-two years, until last night, had any man, apart from her father, kissed her cheek... And the Marquis’s hot kisses had seemed literally to scorch her cheek, as well as other areas of her face and throat and hair. Despite her determination to remain apparently as cool as ice, she had known a wild desire to abandon such a pretence and sink into his arms—even to cling to him almost passionately.
Which, no doubt, would have surprised him a good deal, and it was something to be thankful for that she had had the strength to withstand such a temptation, and was being borne away from Hollowthorne without any obvious shattering of her defences.
It was highly unlikely that she would ever see the Marquis again, and for the sake of her peace of mind it was best that she should not do so. But if ever she did meet him again she must—she must remain an enigma! It was her one defence against him!
With one last glance upwards at the windows of the house she acknowledged that to herself.
By the time they reached London Lady Fanny was professing herself completely exhausted, and Harriet was feeling so unaccountably depressed that it secretly alarmed her. As the carriage bowled through St. James’s Square she tried not to look out for the impressive house on the comer which was the London residence of Lord Capel, but when her eyes alighted on the steps up which she had so recently walked her feeling of depression increased tenfold. She wondered whether she would ever shake it off, and whether it would be possible to continue one’s existence in such an atmosphere of profound gloom.
Lady Fanny’s housekeeper received them effusively, and Harriet was allotted a very pretty bedroom overlooking the gardens in the square, which diverted her temporarily. She realised she ought to feel extremely grateful because she could call it her own.
The next morning Lady Fanny was up betimes despite her exhaustion of the previous day, declaring that they had much to do. She wished to visit a silk warehouse in the City, and Harriet was to accompany her.
“You must forgive me, my dear, but I find your clothes so very depressing that I have to do something about them,” she confessed. “My brother is most anxious to recompense you in some way for all that you have done for him and the—er—de Courceys,” she added hurriedly. “But for you and the admirable determination you displayed they would all three be suffering acute privations and Lowthan Hall would be like a beleaguered fort. So you must not put forth any arguments, my dear, if he has left it to me to provide you with a suitable wardrobe. To that end we are setting forth this morning.” Harriet was horrified.
“But, my lady,” she protested, “I cannot permit the Marquis of Capel to make himself responsible for the deficiencies in my wardrobe. They are nothing whatsoever to do with him.”
Lady Fanny smiled.
“That is perfectly true,” she agreed. “But there is such a thing as generosity—and he feels very generously towards you. After all, it is very likely that you saved his life by your skilful nursing, and if you are to look after his ward you must be suitably attired.”
“As becomes a governess, surely? And any arrears of salary that are due to me will pay for that.”
“Of course, my dear—very sensibly put. Your arrears of salary! They must be quite considerable. After we have visited the silk warehouse we will look in upon a dressmaker who can perform miracles with the most ordinary materials, and after that there will be bonnets and shoes and gloves and so forth. The list is quite endless, and if there is not enough money to pay for it all you shall look upon me as your creditor, and you need have not the least fear in the world that I shall set the duns on to you if repayment is not made within a set period of time.”
“So long as there is no question of your brother being responsible for our purchases,” Harriet said anxiously, recognising at the same time that Lady Fanny was going to become very difficult to cope with if she insisted on raising objections to this shopping expedition.
Lady Fanny waved a hand airily.
“La, my dear child, you must think me excessively unconventional if you imagine I would approve of Capel purchasing your wardrobe for you. Why, that would place you in the same category as one of his mistresses, and you are far from being that kind of young woman as we are all very well aware.” This last remark was made with a certain degree of archness in her look which far from allayed Harriet’s fears. “What would Devil Yorke say if his daughter, who had already endangered her reputation by consorting somewhat unwisely with my brother, allowed him to become her creditor?”
“Please, ma’am,” Harriet implored, her eyes widening at the very suggestion, “I beg you will not even mention such an unlikely situation!”
“Then I will not do so, my dear.” She reached across the breakfast table and patted Harriet’s hands. “Now run along and collect your bonnet and let us waste no further time.”
The shopping expedition left Harriet feeling even more exhausted than Lady Fanny had professed herself to be on the previous evening. The silk warehouse was so fascinating that Harriet could have devoted hours to examining the tempt
ing fabrics that were brought forth in bales for their consideration. Although Lady Fanny had talked of “perfectly ordinary materials” there were none, so far as Harriet could discover, in this particular emporium that could have answered to such a description. There were delicious satins and lustrings and tiffanys and gauzes that enchanted the eyes, but nothing suitable to make up into a severe little robe for a governess in receipt of a salary. But Lady Fanny pounced on a roll of soft grey silk and announced that it would be simply ideal for a couple of day dresses, and a delicate length of white muslin appealed to her immediately as the essential basis for a quite enchanting evening-gown. Harriet was fingering some pretty cambric which she had more or less decided privately she could quite well make up herself into an unambitious dress for the approaching summer days, but the Duke’s daughter swept it aside and declared in favour of a piece of leaf-green crepe and another length of muslin which in this instance was worked with delicate thread and was known, as Lady Fanny explained to her, as jaconet muslin, and was quite the thing for a young woman of her years.
After the silk warehouse they went on to an establishment which quite took Harriet’s breath away. It was most handsomely carpeted and hung with satin drapes—altogether very elaborate—and it was here that Lady Fanny insisted on the purchase of a couple of ready-made dresses which were far more extravagant than anything Harriet had ever dreamed she might one day possess. One was of water-green silk embroidered with little knots of velvet ribbon, and the other was of plain light blue satin which lent a curious depth to Harriet’s eyes and drew attention to the delicate texture of her skin and the soft flush which so often overspread it.
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