by Emma V Leech
Lottie watched the two of them, admiring the picture they made in the sunshine. Eliza was on excellent form today. Her pale blue riding gown hugged her lush curves and her dark glossy curls bounced as she rode. She turned to demand of Mr Demarteau why he was so damned rude to her sister, only to see the look in his eyes as he too watched her and his brother gallop across the fields.
Oh, goodness.
Lottie gasped, never having seen such naked longing in her life.
Demarteau turned his head to see her staring at him in shock and his expression changed in an instant, locked down, cold and remote. It was such a startling change, she wondered if perhaps she had imagined the yearning she’d seen. He turned away and spurred his horse on, following his brother.
“You saw it too, didn’t you?”
Lottie turned to see Vivien, her eyes alight with triumph.
“Saw what?” Lottie asked, uncertain now what she had seen.
“Demarteau. He wants Eliza. It’s eating him up inside to see her with his brother.”
“But… But why does he not…?”
Vivien rolled her eyes and reached to soothe her horse, a highly strung creature who’d taken exception to a patch of jaunty ox-eye daisies and was dancing sideways. “He’s illegitimate, Lottie, and his brother needs to marry her to establish himself back in society. You’ve seen how he stands guard over the fellow, like he’s some kind of guardian angel.”
Lottie snorted. “He’s the least angelic man I’ve ever seen in my life, but I take your point. You think he’s being noble.”
Vivien shrugged. “Likely he doesn’t think he has a chance anyway, and he resents the fact. That’s why he’s being so appalling to poor Eliza. He assumes she would look down her pretty nose at him before she gave him a chance.”
“Oh, but Eliza would never…!” Lottie exclaimed.
“No, but he doesn’t know that, does he? He’ll think she’s the same as every cut-glass beauty of the nobility. You know how some would react if a man like that even dared meet their eyes, the precious darlings.”
Lottie snorted, knowing exactly what she meant. They’d been lucky indeed with their parents. Although her father was a duke, and very aware of the respect due his title, he was neither pompous nor priggish and, if he ever acted the least bit high in the instep, their far more prosaic mama brought him down to earth with a bump. She had never allowed her children airs and graces, and detested snobbery.
Indeed, Aunt Helena had married a self-made man who had been born in the workhouse. The family knew Papa had not been pleased about the match and tried to break them apart, but when it became clear Helena and Gabriel Knight were truly in love, he’d relented. Mr Knight was not considered good ton, but he was so wealthy no one could ignore him. So, whilst their parents would never encourage the man, and would certainly not look upon a match between one of their daughters with a man like Demarteau with any enthusiasm, they would not treat him with anything less than respect and courtesy. Vivien was correct all the same: Mr Demarteau did not know that.
“Come on, let’s catch them up,” Vivien said. She turned to look over her shoulder, discovering her brother dawdling some distance back, his head tipped back to enjoy the sun. “Ash, you slug, come along or we shall leave you behind.”
Ash sighed and gathered his reins, and soon they were all galloping across the fields, and Lottie’s spirit’s lifted. The sun was shining, the countryside ablaze with colour, and she was with her friends. She must enjoy this and pray she would do nothing to cause a rift between them all.
Cassius caught up with his friends just as they settled down to their picnic. Once he’d washed and shaved, his headache had abated enough to ride out after them. They sat in the shade of a copse of trees beside the moat that surrounded the magnificent Bodiam Castle. Swallows dipped low over the water, while birdsong and the distant whickering of the horses made a restful backdrop as he sat down on the blanket beside Ash and Vivien, as far from Lottie as he could get. The temptation to watch her was hard to resist, though, especially as the picture she made had him longing to paint her. Her copious riding skirts were arranged in swathes of pink, and the military style frogging in dark green emphasised her trim waist and the swell of her breasts. Her ride here had been enough to dislodge some of her hairpins, and the neat arrangement was somewhat dishevelled, thick golden curls tumbling to her shoulders. When combined with the flush of colour from the warm afternoon, it gave her the appearance of having been disarranged in a wild embrace. Cassius felt his mouth grow dry.
The sound of Eliza’s laughter caught his attention, and he forced his gaze away, instead observing his friend with Louis César. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the two of them, and the fact that Louis was obviously flirting with her. Not that he could begrudge either of them. Louis did not know of his understanding with Eliza, and he had been so obviously avoiding her he could hardly blame her for not rebuffing a man like the handsome and wealthy Comte de Villen. Louis César was a friend, and someone he respected and liked, but Cassius had heard rumours that the brothers were dangerous. He had always dismissed such stories, having seen nothing in their manner to give him cause for alarm. Louis was beautiful and bound to be the cause of resentment and therefore gossip. Both he and Demarteau were older than the rest of their group, though, with Nic in his early thirties, and they carried a world-weary air of men who had seen and done everything there was. Could he trust Louis to be the husband Eliza deserved? His reputation would suggest not, but Cassius was hardly in a position to warn Eliza off. He must speak with her today, no matter what. His attention turned back to the conversation.
“But how does anyone go about having a love affair in England?” Louis César complained, his expression one of bewilderment. “It is impossible to be alone with a young lady for even a moment. They are constantly chaperoned, and never from beneath the eyes of their diligent mamas. It is most vexing.”
Vivien laughed at his consternation, though her scathing tone indicated she did not disagree in the least. “Indeed, it is not like in our parents’ day, which I am told they railed against hard enough. The rules of proper conduct have become ridiculously rigorous. If the thing is done correctly, one must be a perfect young lady and marry a man without ever having a private conversation with him, let alone stealing a kiss—my word, no! —for only a wicked woman would think of doing such a shameless thing. If you are lucky, you might touch her hand when you help her from her carriage, which is quite enough to make the poor creature swoon.”
Her brother gave a low chuckle and shook his head. “But, then, comte, you have the rare good fortune that the duchess is a revolutionary.”
Vivien laughed at her brother and nodded.
“Our scandalous Mama too and all the Peculiar Ladies, Ash, let us be fair,” she said, plucking a grape from the bunch she held and popping it in her mouth.
“Mon Dieu,” Louis César replied with every expression of alarm as his hand went to his throat. “Should I fear that I will lose my head?”
“Of course,” Lottie replied, sharing a glance with Vivien that Cassius could not read. “Everyone loses their heads over Eliza.”
“Not forgetting the incomparable Miss Anson and your lovely self, bien sûr,” the comte added, with such a charming smile that Cassius felt just a little less friendly towards him.
“Oh no,” Lottie said with a laugh. “Not me! I’m far too uncomfortable a character for polite society. I’m too outspoken and ruffle everyone’s feathers by saying or doing the wrong thing. Mama fears I am a scandal waiting to happen. Eliza, by comparison, is far cleverer, and makes them believe she’s a sweet little dimwit so they’re not afraid of her, and thus she gets away with murder.”
“Lottie!” Eliza exclaimed in amused outrage. “You make me sound positively Machiavellian.”
Lottie frowned and shook her head. “Not at all. It is what clever women are reduced to: pretending ignorance so that we do not alarm society. I would do it too if I were
able, but I do not have half your brain, and you know my wretched mouth always runs away with me. You have the patience of a saint, Eliza, and well you know it.”
“Keep chattering such nonsense about me and I shall prove you wrong, wretch,” Eliza said, stealing a grape from the bunch Vivien held and lancing it at her sister.
Lottie laughed as it bounced off her nose. “Oh, I say. Good shot, Eliza.”
“Is it truly an act?”
Everyone stilled and the convivial atmosphere dissipated as Mr Demarteau spoke, for until now he’d been silent. His voice was deep, his French accent touching the words and softening them, though his tone was anything but soft. The fact that he had directly addressed Eliza held everyone spellbound.
“I beg your pardon?” Eliza replied, stiffening, her demeanour at once several degrees cooler.
Demarteau’s eyes glinted with something dark and fierce and he leaned towards Eliza as he spoke, his voice lowering. “The appearance of a perfect English lady with pretty manners and a sweet temperament. Is it truly who you are, or is it an act as your sister implies?”
“That is not at all what I meant,” Lottie said, her colour rising at the implication she had revealed her sister was deceitful when she was only doing what all women must to survive society’s strictures.
“I believe Mr Demarteau knows that, Lottie, dear,” Eliza said with a tight smile. “He only wishes to poke me with a stick and see if I bite.”
“And will you?”
There was an intensity to the demand that Cassius did not like.
“Nic,” he said, his tone sharp. “I have told you what manner of woman Lady Elizabeth is, and that she is my dearest friend. I do not believe you need any further explanation than the proof of what is in front of you.”
Demarteau dragged his gaze from Eliza to Cassius and inclined his head.
“Quite right, Cassius. Forgive me.” He turned back to Eliza, his face unreadable. “Mille excuses. Forgive me, my lady, my manners are not fit for your company. I shall remove myself from it.”
He got up and left, and Cassius turned back to Eliza to see her cheeks were blazing and her eyes glittering, but her chin was up, her back straight as she watched him stride away.
“Eliza,” he began, but Louis César had reached for her hand.
“Forgive him, Eliza,” he said softly. “I do not know why he acts so, but my brother has not been himself of late. I will speak to him.”
“There’s really no need to trouble yourself. I shall disregard it,” Eliza said, waving the whole incident away as if it were nothing, though her voice was not entirely steady.
“Nonetheless,” Louis said, and got to his feet, following his brother towards the path that led to the castle.
“Well,” Vivien said, her eyes alight with mischief as she looked at Lottie. “That was enlightening.”
“Diverting, certainly,” Eliza said, with a brittle tone Cassius did not recognise as belonging to his friend. “I think I shall stretch my legs. I need to work up an appetite before I do justice to this splendid picnic.”
She got to her feet, brushing down her skirts, and Cassius knew he must speak to her, at the very least to ensure she was not too upset by Nic’s odd behaviour. Louis César was right, the man was not himself.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, relieved when Eliza gave him a grateful smile and nodded.
“Thank you, Cassius, I should like that.”
Eliza hardly knew what she felt as she walked beside the moat, doing a circuit of the castle to calm her jittering heart. The nerve of the man! He did not speak a blasted word to her and when he finally opened his mouth he… he…. Well, she hardly knew how to describe it. For it had not just been his words–which seemed to demand she reveal that she was not the nice, well-mannered lady everyone knew her to be, but some kind of she-devil beneath the civilised exterior–it had been the look he gave her, the sensation of being the entire focus of those dark, dark eyes, and the ferocity of his attention. It was like being cornered by something wild and beautiful, afraid the wrong move might see you bloody with a savage bite, but not wanting to turn away from a creature so rare and powerful. She wondered now if she had been correct to react with such hauteur and anger, if indeed he had been deliberately intent on provoking and embarrassing her, or if there had been a serious question there. If so, her honest answer was that she did not know. She had become uncertain of who she was and what she wanted. For so long she had believed it had been Cassius and a life with him, her dearest friend. Now, though, Cassius was avoiding her, and Mr Demarteau made her wonder….
“Are you well, Eliza?”
Eliza forced her thoughts from the aggravating Mr Demarteau to the man beside her. She looked up at the handsome face of her dearest friend, the man she thought she had loved above all others and gave a sigh of relief. She did love him. Cassius was kind and familiar and he would never provoke her or ask such unnerving questions.
“I am all the better for your company,” she said, slipping her arm through his. It was so reminiscent of their lives before he’d gone away that she felt a swell of nostalgia. “Isn’t this lovely? Just like old times.”
He did not answer, and she glanced up at him.
“Yes,” he said hurriedly, smiling. “Very much like old times.”
Eliza frowned, disquiet niggling at her. He did not seem entirely at ease in her company and, now that her temper was settling, she remembered he had been avoiding her. Honestly, she felt as if everyone knew something she did not. What with Vivien and Lottie sharing conspiratorial glances, Mr Demarteau’s strange behaviour, and Cassius avoiding her, she was getting a tad paranoid. All at once her legendary patience deserted her and she turned to face Cassius.
“Tell me,” she said, wondering why her heart was thudding so wildly.
“Tell you what?” he asked, such alarm in his eyes she wondered what she might discover.
“Well, why don’t we start with why you have been avoiding me? I have a dozen letters all professing how eager you were to see me and tell me of everything you’ve done, and you’ve barely spoken a dozen words to me since you got home. For a man who implied he would ask me to marry him when he returned from his travels, that would seem a little odd, do you not think?”
There, she’d said it. She stared at him, waiting for him to give her some perfectly reasonable explanation and deny that there was a problem at all. Cassius would tell her nothing had changed, and she could get engaged to him and forget about this unsettling, bothersome feeling that she was living someone else’s life.
“I….” he began and then cleared his throat. He reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. “Eliza, I’ve behaved badly and I must beg your forgiveness, only… only, you truly are my dearest friend in the world, and I cannot bear the thought of hurting you, and so… and so I have been a coward, and—”
“You don’t wish to marry me.”
Eliza stared at him in shock as she saw the truth in his eyes, heard what he was clumsily trying to tell her. He didn’t want her. He’d gone away and fallen out of love with her and not been able to face telling her the truth.
She drew in a sharp breath, remembering her father’s words, remembering comments other people had made, and the truth made humiliation burn down her neck.
“Everyone knows, don’t they?” she said, suddenly finding her corset was too tightly laced. She pressed a hand to her ribcage, still able to feel her heart careening about beneath the busk and several layers of fabric. “Everyone but me.”
“No, Eliza,” he protested, shaking his head. “That’s not true.”
“Do your parents know?” she demanded.
He hesitated and she knew she was right.
“What about Ash and Vivien?” She gasped at the guilt she saw flare in his eyes. “Oh… Oh, my word. I should have realised, should have seen, but I never did see anything until it was staring me in the face, did I? I have no imagination, just as you always said. You always comp
lained about it did you not? Lud, what a fool I must look.”
“No! No, Eliza, never that,” Cassius exclaimed, holding her hand tighter, but she snatched it away, unable to bear his touch. She was adrift, uncertain of what she should to do. All the things in her life she had believed to be certainties now appeared to have been built on sand, and her neat world had shifted beneath her feet.
“Leave me alone,” she said, appalled to discover she was going to cry. She wasn’t even certain why. Hadn’t she been questioning if Cassius was right for her, if he was really what she wanted? But it had all happened at once and she could not bear that everyone had known what she had not. How blind she had been.
“Eliza, don’t go. I… Oh, God, love, I’m so sorry. I should have told you at once, but—”
“Yes,” she said, holding onto her dignity by a thread. “Yes, you should.”
“Please understand….”
“No. No, I don’t wish to understand. Not yet. I will, I’m sure, but at this moment I want to be very angry, Cassius. So do me the very great favour of going away and leaving me be.”
She almost got the furious words out, but then her voice quavered, and so she picked up the heavy skirts of her riding habit and ran.
Chapter 9
Dear Aunt Helena,
How I wish you were here. I sorely need some advice. I am so angry and confused, but I am afraid I’m angry with the wrong person and for the wrong reasons. My world is being turned upside down, and it frightens me. I do not know what to do, or even what I want.
I know Uncle Gabe’s work is keeping you from Holbrook, but I do hope you will come soon.
― Excerpt of a letter to Lady Helena Knight from Lady Elizabeth Adolphus.
1st July 1838, Bodiam Castle, Robertsbridge.
Lottie hurried over to Eliza as she saw her storming towards the horses.
“Eliza, what is it? Whatever is wrong?”
“Nothing,” Eliza said, which was patently untrue. “Help me mount, would you?”
