‘Oh my goodness!’ Aunt Linnie had not seen this room before. Now she stood in the centre of a huge Eastern carpet, clasping her hands and almost dancing with delight. ‘Oh, it’s so grand! And the flowers… A treat indeed, Mr Paterson!’
‘I’m glad you like them.’ Mr Paterson beamed. ‘I had them brought in especially for this evening’s gathering. The house must be a worthy setting for my beautiful bride.’
He glanced at me, awaiting my approval. ‘They are wonderful,’ I said. ‘I have never seen the like.’
‘I think,’ Mr Paterson said, ‘that I shall order more for the cathedral on the great day. And for the reception, too, if enough are available. I shall speak to the florist tomorrow and acquaint her with your wishes.’
‘Oh, please don’t upset her on my account!’ I said hastily, all too aware of all the thought that had gone into the planned arrangements, and the trouble the florist had gone to already to fulfil our every whim.
‘Nonsense!’ Mr Paterson said. ‘I’m paying her well enough – she must be ready to put herself out a little on our behalf. Now – I’ve arranged for a trio – you like music, don’t you, Davina? They will sit here…’ He indicated three spindle-legged chairs set up at the far end of the great room, with space in front of them for music stands. ‘I do think a little light music calms the nerves and assists the digestion.’
‘Oh, Mr Paterson!’ Aunt Linnie turned a little pink; talk of digestion seemed to her a little indelicate, no doubt.
Theo laughed, rather ingratiatingly, I thought. ‘You have thought of everything, I see, John.’
‘I hope so, my dear fellow. I certainly hope so! Now, shall we relax with a glass of good porter until it’s time for the guests to arrive?’
‘That is most civil of you, John,’ Great-Uncle Charles said in his quavery voice, but Aunt Linnie squealed.
‘Porter? Oh, not for me, Mr Paterson!’
‘No, indeed not! A dish of tea for you, perhaps? Or can I tempt you to a nice fine Madeira?’
Aunt Linnie giggled. Actually giggled.
‘Madeira! Do you know, Mr Paterson, since this is such a special occasion, I think I just might!’
* * *
I took a glass of Madeira too, since I thought it might help to steady my nerves, and sure enough, by the time the guests began to arrive I was feeling the effects of it – a warm glow that I hoped was not showing in my cheeks, and ever so slightly light-headed.
As we welcomed them the trio was playing, very softly, so as not to make conversation difficult, and I floated through, greeting those I had already met and being introduced to those I had not in a pleasant haze. Once, as I made polite small talk with a fat, pompous alderman and his even fatter, even more self-satisfied wife, I caught Theo’s eye and he winked at me. I was forced to look quickly away, for I feared that I, like Aunt Linnie, might giggle, and I did not think that giggling, whilst talking to such important folk, would be looked upon favourably.
Little morsels of food were served by no less than three black slave boys who had been brought in especially for the occasion and who wore silver collars upon which their names had been engraved – Zion, Melchior and Job. The wine flowed freely, and though I tried to sip sparingly, my glass was replenished so regularly that I dreaded to think how much had actually passed my lips.
A cold table had been set in the dining room and we had repaired there to fill our plates with slices of meat and game pie when a manservant came to whisper to Mr Paterson that there were more guests arriving. Since we were at the time engaged in conversation with yet another dignitary, Mr Paterson left me talking with them whilst he went to greet the latecomers.
‘You must come and take tea with us the moment you can spare an hour,’ Mrs de Vere, the dignitary’s wife, was gushing.
‘Thank you, that would be very nice,’ I replied politely, though my heart was sinking, for the thought of long afternoons of stiff socializing did not appeal to me in the least.
And then, over her shoulder, I saw Mr Paterson returning with the new arrivals, and my heart seemed to stop beating.
One was a grand lady, of indeterminate age, bewigged, bejewelled, imposing. But it was the other who had my full attention; the other who made the breath catch in my throat.
Tall, weatherbeaten, good-looking in an unforgettably rugged way.
The man who had accosted me outside the hot well. The man I had sought in vain. The man Theo had warned me against.
Here, in Mr Paterson’s house.
* * *
They were coming towards me, picking their way through the little knots of guests. My heart began to beat again, very fast, very unevenly, and a dozen confused thoughts raced through my brain all at once – What was he doing here? How had he come to be invited? Who was he? – and my emotions churned. Shock, nervousness, given that Theo had warned me he could be dangerous – and that same sense of joy I had experienced when I had first seen him on the quayside. His hazel eyes were on my face, his mouth a set, unsmiling line. There was a calculation in those eyes now, which had not been there before, and it unnerved me.
Mr Paterson caught my hand, tucking it through the crook of his arm, and smiling beatifically.
‘Lady Avonbridge, I am proud to present my future wife, Miss Grimes. Davina, may I introduce Her Ladyship.’
The grand lady extended a hand, which sparkled with precious stones in ornate settings, and I took it. Under normal circumstances I would have been overawed – I had never before, to my knowledge, shaken the hand of a member of the aristocracy, never even been in such close proximity even. But the sight of the man at her side had wiped all else from my mind.
‘And I must introduce you to my friend,’ Lady Avonbridge said with a slight smile. ‘I hope, John, that you will forgive me for having taken the liberty of asking him to accompany me this evening. This is Mr Richard Wells. You may be familiar with his name.’
‘Indeed.’ Mr Paterson extended his hand, but his lips had tightened a shade, and I thought there was a certain lack of warmth in his tone. ‘I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Mr Wells.’
‘Richard, please.’ He took Mr Paterson’s outstretched hand. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last.’ He returned his gaze to me, level, disconcerting. ‘And yours, Miss Grimes.’
Because convention called for it, I extended my own hand, which trembled slightly. His fingers touched mine, holding them firmly, and a tremor ran through me, a tremor as sharp as if I had been struck by lightning. For a brief moment in time some emotion twisted in me, unfamiliar, yet half-remembered, and was gone.
‘Mr Wells.’ There was a tiny tremor in my voice too; I hoped desperately that neither he nor Mr Paterson would notice it.
Richard Wells released my hand; I pressed it against my skirts, seeming still to feel the touch of those fingers, cool, firm.
‘You are indeed a lucky man, Mr Paterson.’ His eyes never left my face as he said it. Nor when he added: ‘Davina reminds me very much of someone I once knew. Someone—’
‘Who broke his heart,’ Lady Avonbridge interjected. She was looking at me, too, I realized, my discomfort growing. Her eyes were sharp, and there was a slight twist to her mouth which might almost have been amusement.
‘Do please allow me to furnish you with a drink,’ Mr Paterson said.
They moved away and I closed my eyes briefly, trying to compose myself. Richard Wells had known me, I felt sure – why else would he have engineered this opportunity to see me once again? For that, I felt certain, was what he had done. And something was telling me that I had known him too, though I had not recognized him and could not recollect a single fact about our acquaintance.
But whoever he was, I did not think Mr Paterson had been very pleased that he was here. Though polite, his manner had been distinctly frosty. Was that because Richard Wells was indeed the ‘dangerous’ man of whom Theo had spoken – the man from whom my mother had sought to protect me? I had to know.
I
looked around for Theo and saw him entering the dining room deep in conversation with a man I recognized as another of the Merchant Venturers. Clearly he was taking advantage of the occasion to further his own ambitions. But there would be other opportunities for him to socialize with the great and the good of Bristol; my need to speak to him was more pressing.
I made my way through the guests, fielding their attempts to engage me in conversation with a polite smile and all the determination I could muster.
‘Theo!’ I touched his arm urgently. ‘Can I speak with you?’
‘Davina!’ He excused himself from the merchant and led me to a corner of the room. ‘What is wrong? You look dreadfully flustered.’
‘He’s here,’ I said. ‘The man who accosted me near the hot well.’
‘The devil he is!’ Theo exclaimed. ‘Where is he?’
‘Over there.’ I nodded in the direction of the cold table. ‘That’s him, with Mr Paterson, and a grand lady by the name of—’
‘Richard Wells!’ Theo exclaimed, following the nod of my head. ‘Good Christ! How did he come to be on the guest list?’
‘I don’t think he was,’ I said. ‘He arrived with Lady Avonbridge. I don’t think Mr Paterson was very pleased to see him.’
‘I’ll wager he was not!’ Theo said with feeling.
‘So – who is he?’ I asked.
‘He was a sea captain, I believe. Now he meddles in things that do not concern him.’ Theo’s tone was grim. ‘And you are certain he is the man who spoke to you and called you Rowan?’
‘Of course I’m certain!’ I returned with asperity. ‘I might remember nothing of my past, but there’s nothing wrong with my faculties when it comes to recalling what happened a few days ago!’
‘Well, it’s a surprise to me, and no mistake!’ Theo said. ‘But in some ways it fits well enough. I told you the person involved with first your mother and then you was a dangerous man – and Richard Wells certainly fits that description.’
‘But why? What has he done?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it’s a long story,’ Theo replied vaguely. ‘And not one that I care to go into now. But you’d do well to steer clear of him, Davina. Now I know who he is, I’m even more convinced of it. He might well pose a real threat to you.’
‘He can hardly harm me here,’ I argued.
Theo took my arm urgently. ‘He is a devious man as well as a dangerous one,’ he said grimly. ‘And he has the nerve of the very Devil. To inveigle his way in here tonight… That tells you something about how ruthlessly determined he is.’
‘To see me,’ I said, and perversely something that was part pride and part joy stirred within me.
‘I told you the man in question was obsessed with you, Davina,’ Theo said harshly. ‘Now you must see for yourself that I was not exaggerating. Stay close to me, there’s a good girl, and take no chances.’
A tiny shard of resentment prickled, along with all my other confused, conflicting emotions. The man who might be able to tell me something about my lost past was here, in the very same room as I was. If I let the opportunity to speak with him slip away I would later regret it, I felt sure. And yet…
If he had molested me, if he had followed my mother and myself and perhaps even held up our carriage in order to abduct me, then he was indeed dangerous. A man who would do such a thing would stop at nothing. And besides…
For the first time, it occurred to me that perhaps I might learn things I would prefer not to know. Could it be that the veils that obscured my memories of my past life had remained so stubbornly closed for a reason? Was it that they hid something so terrible I could not bear to face it? Was my memory loss not a curse, but a blessing, something that had occurred not just because of the accident, but as a device to save my sanity?
I shrank inwardly suddenly, afraid, terribly afraid, of what it was that was hidden from me. And still the compulsion was there, battling with the fear that Theo’s warning had awakened in me. A compulsion to learn the truth, however terrible. And a compulsion that drew me inexorably to Mr Richard Wells.
Six
It was, perhaps, approaching eleven o’clock when I missed Aunt Linnie.
Somehow I had gone through the motions of acting as hostess, and the performance of my duties and the demands of the guests had taken from my hands the decision as to whether or not I should seek out Richard Wells and try to answer some of the burning questions that troubled me. I had, I think, taken a little too much wine, but that was not a bad thing, for I felt after a little while that I was floating, rather than walking on trembling legs, and the world was floating around me; nothing really seemed quite so important any more.
Good as his word, Theo had remained close to my side, though Mr Paterson had left me to my own devices whilst he circulated amongst the guests and made frequent visits to the morning room to smoke a cigar with his male friends.
When I noticed Aunt Linnie’s absence, I was a little concerned. I hoped that she had not taken too much wine, for she was as unused to it as I was, and not nearly as young and strong.
Theo had relaxed a little in his scrutiny of me and was chatting to yet another merchant, and I managed to slip unobtrusively away. For the moment I did not want to mention my concern for Aunt Linnie to Theo in case it should turn out that she was indeed a little the worse for drink, for she would be mortified, I knew, if Theo were to witness her in such a state.
I went through to the great hall, where the trio were still playing; I could not see her amongst the people there. I looked in the dining room, again with no success, and then in one of the ante-rooms. And there I found her.
I think she must indeed have had a little too much wine, or perhaps excitement at the grand occasion had overcome her, for she was sitting on a small chaise, fast asleep. Her wig had fallen slightly askew, her mouth was wide open, her eyes closed. I shook my head, smiling to myself at the picture she made, and stood wondering whether or not I should waken her. She would not want any of the other guests to see her so, I felt sure. But she looked so peaceful sitting there that it seemed it would be a crime to disturb her.
As I stood there, undecided, I suddenly became aware of someone in the doorway behind me.
I spun round, and came face to face with Richard Wells.
Breath caught in my throat; my limbs seemed to freeze. I tried to speak; no words would come. Richard Wells took my arm, drawing me into the room and closing the door behind him.
‘Rowan,’ he said.
* * *
His tone was low and urgent; the flickering light from a candelabrum on the mantle shelf illuminated his face, those hazel eyes darkened now, deep shadows marking the lines that ran between his nose and the corners of his mouth. He towered over me, a powerful figure, all coiled strength and hard muscle.
‘I have to talk to you,’ he said. ‘You can’t avoid me for ever.’
Somehow I found my voice.
‘Who are you?’ I whispered. ‘What do you want with me?’
His hand tightened on my arm as if he thought I might run from him – and indeed I almost might have done if there had been an ounce of strength left in my trembling legs.
‘Do you truly not remember me? Dear God, Rowan…’
‘Why do you call me that?’ I asked.
‘Why, because it’s your name! I cannot believe you do not know it, even if you don’t know me! I thought, when I first saw you at the hot well, that I was going mad! I had thought you dead, and when you told me your name was Davina—’
‘It is,’ I said stubbornly.
‘It’s the name they are calling you by, I grant you. And at first I thought you must be her double, come back to haunt me. But that’s not so – I know that now. And so must you.’
‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘I don’t know anything. I was injured in a carriage accident two years ago. My life prior to that is a complete blank. And you are a stranger to me.’
‘A stranger!’ He uttered an oath. ‘Are you telling me y
ou remember nothing? Nothing at all?’
‘Nothing but my grandparents nursing me back to health, and my life with them.’ I drew a trembling breath. ‘But you still haven’t told me who you are.’
‘I am…’ His tone was harsh. ‘I am the man who loves you. The man you loved when you were Rowan Gillespie.’
‘Rowan Gillespie…’ I repeated. The name stirred in the depths of my memory like a summer breeze through the leaves of a birch tree, bringing with it some faint, haunting scents from another place, another life, and the feeling that I stood on the very brink of remembering. The sensation was awesome; it frightened me as I recalled the idea that the past might be something so dreadful I had chosen to forget.
‘Did you come here tonight on purpose to see me again?’ I challenged him.
He nodded. ‘I have to admit I did. With the assistance of my good friend Lady Avonbridge.’
‘But how did you know…?’
‘That I would find you here? Oh, that was easy enough,’ he said roughly. ‘I recognized your carriage by the hot well. Everyone in Bristol knows John Paterson’s landaulet, and Thomas who drives it, dressed up in that blue livery as a child might dress a doll, with that disgusting silver collar around his neck. I thought perhaps you were working for John Paterson in some capacity. I could scarcely believe it when I learned that you are to marry him!’ His fingers tightened on my arm again; his features in the flickering candlelight were grim. ‘You cannot go through with it, Rowan! I won’t let you!’
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