“So, you do understand, my dear Valerie,” Deidre was concluding, her blue eyes so serious, her hand reaching out pleadingly to Valerie. Her slim long fingers … with the blue sapphire on them…
“I … understand,” said Valerie, though her mouth was so dry she could scarcely speak.
Deidre stood up, shook out her blue skirts, and smiled. “I am so much more suitable for him, you see, my dear,” she said gently. “I understand him, we are alike. We are amused by the same things. We love to gamble, and ride, and race, and stay up until dawn. We shall have a marvellous marriage! He will be happy with me.”
Valerie stood and showed her to the door.
When the door was shut, Valerie sank down into the nearest chair. Her wild gaze went about the room. She must leave this … all this … she must go … she must leave him … He must not find out about the child now! She could not endure to remain married to him, if he felt this way!
But … stay … Deidre could be deceitful. Was she telling the truth? Did Malcolm truly wish a divorce? He had not said so! Indeed, he had seemed jealous of Valerie, whenever Reggie Darlington was about, or even the handsome explorer!
She must speak to him. But how could she? How to bring up such a delicate topic? She must … she must…
She went over to the desk, sank down into the chair, and gazed at the papers blankly. The pretty Queen Anne table … she would miss that, she thought idiotically. And the jade elephant. And the ivory figurines that Malcolm had given her … she had left them at Arundel in the country. And the Shakespeare garden. And her beautiful bedroom, where he had come to her and held her.
Malcolm did not come home for lunch. Valerie went down early for tea, but no one had come down yet. She waited to order, sewing absently on the embroidered cushion. Should she take it with her? She had planned it to match the couch in Malcolm’s small bedroom. But he would not want it now, not something she had made for him.
Still she went on, blindly pushing and drawing the needle in and out of the blue velvet cushion, with the gold leopard on it. Gold roses were in the four comers, the whole the insignia of the Arundel family. Malcolm had not even noticed what she was doing!
She heard his voice in the hallway and paused in her work. He would probably go up to his room. Then the footman opened the door to the drawing room, and Malcolm came in, looking weary, dusty, in his riding habit.
“Ah … good afternoon, Valerie.” He shut the door quietly after himself. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Her sensitive nerves caught the tremor in his voice.
“Yes, Malcolm,” she said, setting down the work, and folding her hands, so they would not tremble.
Striding to the mantel to lean there, he said abruptly, “Lord Maitland and I are going away for a few days. There’s a horse fair near his country seat. Fine horses. Thought I might pick up one or two.”
It was so different from what she had thought he would say that she could only stare blankly at his handsome sullen face. He turned from her, and she saw only his broad back, his bent brown head, the muddy riding boots.
“Thought I would get away for a time,” he said, as she did not speak. “Want to think things out.”
“Malcolm,” she said, braving herself. “Perhaps I had best say this. Do you … do you wish a divorce?”
He did not turn around, though he seemed to grow rigid. She meant to test him, she wished she could see his face. If Deidre had lied, she would know it in an instant.
“Yes,” he said heavily. “I think … it might be best.”
The shock was like a knife into her heart. She could not move nor speak. Her hands were locked tightly together. He went on speaking to the mantelpiece.
“We’re not at all alike. Everyone says so. You shine when you’re with the smart ones, who read your articles … that you never even bothered to show to me. They say that you’re very intelligent. Too intelligent for a slow-top like me! And I’m a rake, a gambler … that’s what Father says. I thought when we came to London that we’d go about together, I’d take you to plays, you would come with me on my amusements. But it’s not like that. You don’t want anything to do with my friends … except Reggie Darlington!”
There was a sad bitterness in his tone, a finality that stunned her. He did want a divorce!
He swung about abruptly. “I’m going away for a few days. We’ll talk about it when I get back. I want to do the right thing, Valerie.”
He waited for her to speak. She could not. He flung himself from the room.
She heard him go out again, numbly. She picked up the cushion, put in a few stitches, blindly. She must go, she must leave him, she thought. And soon. She could not endure another such conversation, hearing him tell her he wanted a divorce. She could not bear to hear of his arrangements for her … a town house, money.
The baby! He might want the baby! She must leave before he learned of it, or he might want to take it from her!
Somehow she got through the evening. Malcolm was absent, Deidre did not seem to mind, her face smooth as cream and complacent.
Valerie slept little that night. She heard Malcolm later in the morning, in his rooms, packing, then leaving. He did not come to say farewell, he just departed.
She waited an hour, then went to find the countess. She found her and the earl in the drawing room, alone, the earl smoking fiercely on his pipe, the countess at her own embroidery. They both looked at her anxiously when she entered.
Her pride was up, yet she did not want to hurt them. They had been kind and good to her.
She remained standing. “I … I have come to say farewell to you,” she said, faltering a little.
They stared.
“I … I must leave. Malcolm wishes a divorce. We have come to the parting of our ways. I … I beg your forgiveness for hurting you.”
“Good heavens,” breathed the countess. “My dear, you must not let a silly squabble cause you…”
“No, it is not that,” said Valerie, clearing her throat. “Lady Deidre is going to marry Malcolm as soon as he is free. She told me herself, I could have guessed it. She said that they … they are much alike, he wishes the divorce to marry her.”
The parents of Malcolm stared at her as though she had taken leave of her senses. The face of the countess had turned a pearly white, as though she would faint.
“Nonsense!” bellowed the earl suddenly. “She is a foolish giddy piece! He could not prefer her over you!”
“He does. You have seen it,” said Valerie, wincing at the bluntness. “He prefers her company, he loves her. I … I hope all will go well with them. However, I must leave, so that the … the divorce will go through smoothly for … for them.”
The countess laid her white hand on her heart. “It is madness!” she breathed. “Deidre … she adored Eustace! She cannot love Malcolm … he thinks of her as a sister! No, no. You must wait and speak with Malcolm … straighten this out.”
“I spoke with Malcolm yesterday. I asked if he wished a divorce. He said yes. He wishes one … I cannot remain.”
“Now, now, no hasty movements!” the earl said anxiously, gruffly. He came over to her, put his great arm about her. “You are our daughter, you know! Can’t get along without you!”
“M-Malcolm can,” she said, and put her hands to her face. She could not endure much more of this. “I … I have sent a note to Reggie Darlington, he will come for me in an hour. I will pack and be gone…”
“You’re going to Reggie?” growled the earl furiously. “That young puppy! I’ll have a word…”
“No, no, he will but take me to his Aunt Darlington!” Valerie hastened to reassure him. “She has already spoken to me about becoming her companion. You know, she has broken her leg. I will read to her, converse with her. When she is better, we can go about together. She may retire to the country this summer,” she said bravely, thinking of her child due in November.
“A paid companion!” The earl exchanged eloquent looks with his wife of
many years. “This is madness! Wait and talk with Malcolm! You have no need to make your own way in the world! You are married to him! Wait and straighten all this out!”
“I cannot believe this,” said the countess, her mouth quivering. “Lady Deidre! She has remained with us, loved me like her own mother … and mourned Eustace … what madness … she cannot mean … But Malcolm gave her the sapphires. I cannot believe he is serious about her … but such a gift…”
“I must go and pack,” said Valerie. She gently put the earl’s arm from her. She gave them both a quivering smile. “Goodbye … thank you for all your goodness to me. I am more grateful than I can tell.”
And she fled, afraid she would break down. She went up to her pretty sitting room for the last time. She rang for Glenda, who then began to take out the items Valerie would take with her.
Impassively she obeyed orders, got a footman to bring down two trunks and several valises.
Valerie left her elaborate ballgowns. She would not want them again. She left behind the elegant bonnets, with the silk ribbons. They were not fitting or suitable for a paid companion.
She packed the simple muslins, of white and blue and lilac and rose. She set out the little ivory puppy, which Malcolm had given her, and the jade horse. She would take those. She hesitated over the jewels. Then she finally took only the amethysts. She could not bear to leave them, besides they were not the type to appeal to Deidre. No one would miss them. She would discard all those false vanities — the hair curlers, the delicate satin slippers with high heels, the flirtatious fans, the gauze-covered dance dresses.
However, she must have the amethysts. The love-gift. Her mouth trembled. She had been foolish to hope and dream, but all young things were foolish, she more than most. Her common sense should have told her Malcolm could not love her, not a sedate, serious-minded female who did not care so much for balls or racing.
Oh, it might have been … if she had been different, if she could have matched his light-heartedness and fooling about … if she could have endured to remain home while he danced attendance on one woman after another … if she could have sunk her pride…
“That is all, then, Glenda,” she said abruptly. She had heard the carriage, Reggie Darlington had come for her. She gave one last look about the room. The footmen came, picked up her trunks, and carried them down the gracious winding stairs.
She followed, saw Reggie in the hallway. He looked serious, even alarmed. The earl had come out, was talking sternly to him.
“Marriage?” Reggie was saying. “Lord, no! I’ve asked for the hand of Lady Mary Greenley, but her papa says she is too young, only seventeen, and I must wait another year. Lord, lord, what a coil this is!”
The earl looked rather relieved, kissed Valerie, and bade her, “Be a good girl. You’ve not heard the last of this! Wait till Malcolm comes home! I shall give him the hiding of his life!”
Valerie shook her head. “No, no, Papa … don’t. It is not Malcolm’s fault if he cannot love me. One does not ask to whom one gives a heart.” She managed a tremulous smile. “Pray … wish him well, for me. I did not ever mean to hurt him.”
Reggie escorted her out to the carriage. Behind her came Glenda, formidable in black bonnet and cloak. Valerie gazed at her maid, aghast.
“But Glenda … you cannot come … a paid companion does not have a maid of her own…”
The maid frowned. “In your condition, my lady?” she asked, in a low scolding affectionate tone. “I should never forgive myself if I let ye go alone!”
And firmly she got into the carriage with them. So off they went. The earl gazed after them mournfully, and Valerie’s last sight was of his grey head, his sturdy arm waving in farewell.
Lady Darlington welcomed her with enthusiasm and tact. She did not question her. She sent her up to a very pretty sitting room and bedroom of her own, which Valerie was privately convinced must be a guest suite. Glenda looked satisfied, and began briskly unpacking at once. A tray of tea was sent up to them.
“Oh, she is treating me like a friend,” murmured Valerie. “Oh, dear, I must explain … I do mean to work for my living!”
“And when the baby comes, what then?” demanded Glenda, rather fiercely for such a mild woman.
“I shall keep on working, Glenda!”
Glenda made a rude sound and went on unpacking. She set out tenderly the little ivory puppy, the jade horse, the miniature of Malcolm as a boy.
“Oh, I did not know you had packed this!” cried Valerie, picking up the oval miniature and gazing at it tenderly. “I meant to leave it, to return it to … to his mother.”
She pressed the little picture to her lips, tenderly, then set it down with a sigh.
“I must send it back,” she muttered. Glenda shook her head.
“You’ll have your tea and get some rest, my lady. I don’t know what will become of you if you don’t get off your feet. Look at them, all swollen now.”
She fussed over Valerie, persuaded her to lie down for a time and sleep. Presently Valerie, much rested and refreshed, changed to a white muslin gown with blue ribbons, and went down to thank her hostess for her kindness.
She found Lady Darlington holding court in the drawing room, five of her cronies with her. They stared curiously at her, but were too polite to question her. The talk was of a new novel by a very pretty lady of quality. Was it based on her real amours? Or were they made up? A lively topic indeed.
She and Lady Darlington were alone for dinner, and it was served on trays in the drawing room.
“I shall not question you, my dear,” said Lady Darlington, leaning back wearily into her cushions. “You are too wrought, and I too weary. Only let me say I am pleased to have your companionship. Reggie is often out, and I am a lonely old woman. I am pleased to have you here. We shall settle the details later.”
“You are too good, too kind.”
“No tears, or I shall be angry!” said the lady sharply. “Cannot endure weeping. Makes me weep myself. Would you read to me for a time?”
“Gladly, Lady Darlington.” Valerie found the daily gazettes, read to her. The articles about the Peninsular War made her think of Malcolm and the worry she had felt while he was there. The articles about the fine horses at a recent race made her think again of Malcolm. There was a squib about a recent ball … and again Malcolm came to her mind.
Would there ever come a day when she would not think of him and long that matters might have been different between them?
Reading helped her through the evening, and they both retired early. The next day was much the same. Lady Darlington rose early, read her correspondence. Valerie offered to write letters for her, the offer was promptly accepted. There was tea, with two guests. Over luncheon, Reggie entertained them with the account of some friends he had met at his club, and how they had gambled over the outcome of the Peninsular War. The stock exchange, he said, went up and down according to the way folks thought the war was going. He was amusing, charming, and made them laugh.
In the afternoon, some friends of Lady Darlington called on her once more, remained for tea, gossiped, planned a lecture by an eminent doctor who told of ways to keep old age from creeping up on one. As these ladies were all in the sunny side of fifty and sixty and seventy, they were keenly interested. It all seemed a little vague and dry to Valerie. Seventy seemed so far off. What if she thought of Malcolm all those years, from twenty-one to seventy-one?
She smiled, made herself useful pouring tea, made attentive sounds when spoken to, and let her mind drift on and on … about Malcolm. When would he come home? What would he say when he found her gone? Would he be relieved … or a little angry? Would she see him again? She could not risk that for long. She must remove to the country and hide from everyone, as the child became more obvious in her.
The thought of Malcolm calmly filing for divorce and planning to marry Deidre … that was so painful she could not bear to think of it. Not yet. Not yet.
CHAPTER 16
The next day crawled past and the next. Valerie wondered if she could ever endure the loneliness, she was shocked to find how much she missed Malcolm. She had not thought she was with him much. However, they had often met at breakfast, or tea, or attended a ball together.
And now she did not see him, or hear his voice, or worry about him when he was out to all hours of the night. He might be out riding in the rain, and she would stand at the window and gaze out, and wonder where he was. The days and nights seemed blank and empty, in spite of Lady Darlington’s real kindness, her many guests, the reading and writing of letters and gazettes.
She tried to work on her articles, but could not. Her mind would not concentrate, she was too unhappy. Also, she had not yet told Lady Darlington about the child. Dared she suggest to an employer that she wished to leave London? All sorts of problems had come up. She had no money, how could she even pay for her maid?
She was sitting at the desk in Lady Darlington’s study one morning, writing letters to the guests who were invited to a dinner. The good lady was reclining in her drawing room, receiving the first of her visitors for the day. When the door opened, Valerie thought it might be the footman, come to bid her to join them and pour tea.
Instead Malcolm came in, grim, haggard, his hair brushed carelessly across his forehead. His boots were immaculate, his blue suit coat fitted neatly across his broad shoulders, he was wearing a fine stock in an elaborate fold. Yet somehow he gave the impression of wild-eyed disarray, as though his mind was distracted.
“Valerie!” He shut the door carefully after him and strode across to her. “What is the meaning of this? I returned home at midnight, to find you had fled!”
“Did … did you buy any horses?” she asked idiotically.
He stared. “Oh, two, a stallion, and a fine mare for you. You really must learn to ride, you know,” he said, then recollected himself. “But you must return home! You cannot marry Reggie! He’s not right for you! What do you mean, running off with him?”
Amethyst Love: A passionate Regency romance Page 20
