She paused when a young woman, about nineteen years of age, hurried towards them. Her green silk gown fluttered behind her and her fair hair, caught into a gold filet, fell loose down her back. James, unable to conceal his delight, seemed to forget all about Arlette. His face lit up on seeing her—a vivacious, pretty girl. Excusing himself, he took her hand and drew her towards a screen. With a smile on her lovely face, the young woman did not object—in fact, she seemed to welcome James’s attention and Arlette was quite shocked to see James plant a kiss on the girl’s eager rosy lips. She found this romantic incident in this vibrant palace touching and, smiling softly, she waited for James to return to her.
‘I presume that is the young lady who holds your affections,’ she said when he finally appeared without the young lady. ‘She is exceedingly pretty. I can see why you like her.’
‘I love her, Arlette, I truly do. She really is quite delightful, don’t you think? Sadly she is promised to another, but I live in hope that she will be mine one day.’
‘I sincerely hope that she will be, James.’
The incident was forgotten when he drew her towards a group of boisterous young bucks across the room, who welcomed him into their midst. Laughter and frivolity surrounded Arlette and she found herself responding to it automatically. James lounged in a chair and proudly and noisily introduced Arlette as Mistress Arlette Dryden. ‘This is her first venture to Whitehall,’ he announced.
One of his associates laughed heartily. ‘Then with such beauty, we must pray it will not be her last.’
They embraced her into their circle with impudent grins and subjected her to long, lingering looks. She laughed, warming to their natural charm and easy manner.
James caught her hand. ‘We are going for a game of bowls. Come with us? You wanted to see Whitehall.’
‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘It would be quite improper and commented upon,’ she chided teasingly, amused and flattered by their offer. ‘I have my reputation to uphold. I didn’t come to Whitehall to play bowls, but to look for Lord Latham.’
She failed to notice the peculiar look James gave her. But then, refusing to take no for an answer, James raised his arm. Arlette gave a couple of quick little steps to avoid his hand as it reached out for her, but, catching her heel in the train of her skirt, she tripped and lost her balance, unable to prevent herself from falling in an undignified heap in James’s lap, which resulted in a gale of good humour and high spirits.
He laughed out loud, his arm snaking round her waist. ‘You really are quite incredible, Arlette, and not as light on your feet as you might think. Remind me never to accompany you in a dance. I value the comfort of my feet far too much.’
Arlette was suddenly aware of a tall male presence. Having seen what was happening, William had moved across the space that separated them with such speed and the silence of a panther that she had not seen him come. At a stroke the amusement fled from her face. Her mouth formed his name, but no sound came. For a moment she forgot her predicament and looked at him with loving eyes, her heart beating with the unbelievable joy and comfort of knowing she had found him. A world of feelings flashed across her face—surprise, disbelief, happiness—but only for an instant. William’s face was glacial, his mouth drawn into a ruthless, forbidding line.
Thrown off her balance, Arlette continued to stare at him. There was nothing of the softness that had marked his expression on their previous encounter. Even as she sought in vain for something to say that would be neither stupid nor inept, she was aware of his eyes scrutinising every detail of her appearance and she resented it, as if he were judging her.
Only for an instant had William’s expression betrayed what he felt upon seeing Arlette, who was too busy toppling over to see his face quicken with admiration which shone fleetingly in his eyes.
He glared down at James. ‘You, sir, forget yourself.’ His voice was like steel. Tempted to commit murder, he restrained himself, the iron control his military training had taught him to employ coming to his aid as he looked with freezing contempt from one to the other.
Arlette sprang up from James’s lap and he quickly followed, concerned by the threatening menace emanating from the formidable Lord Latham. James’s friends seemed to melt into the shadows. Arlette was rendered speechless. But seeing the way he was looking at her, the whole of him vaguely disturbing, she was filled with shame and humiliation that he should find her in such embarrassing circumstances.
‘I—I’m sorry,’ James stuttered. ‘It was not—I was not...’
‘I tripped,’ Arlette remarked, lifting her head and meeting William’s gaze head on. ‘That’s all there was to it. At least James provided a soft landing and prevented me from being injured.’
William fixed his attention on young Sefton. ‘What is your purpose for coming to Whitehall?’
‘To see my father. His business at Whitehall has kept him away from home for three days. I have a message to give him from my mother.’
‘I saw him not half an hour since. He was in the privy garden. If you go now, he may still be there. I’ll take care of Mistress Dryden.’
James’s eyes flicked uncertainly from the still-glowering Lord Latham to Arlette. ‘Yes—I see—although I shall be returning home after I have seen my father if you wish to return home, Arlette. If I don’t see you before, I’ll be at the palace gate in an hour or thereabouts, I expect.’
‘Thank you, James. I will bear that in mind. I am most grateful to you.’
James nodded nervously. ‘I—I’ll go now.’ Without further ado, he fled.
* * *
Arlette shrank back beneath the look that William fastened on her and she was aware of the anger he must feel at finding her in such a compromising situation. He would never understand the situation, for she knew how her conduct must look.
‘Now, Mistress Dryden, have the goodness to explain your presence here. You are not supposed to present yourself at Court.’
He was looking at her with open contempt. Arlette experienced a welcome stir of anger mingled with her fear. ‘Then pardon me. Having lived almost half of my life in a Puritan household, I am not familiar with Court etiquette. And Mistress Dryden! Why, William, what is this? Why so formal? You have never called me anything other than Arlette. Are you not pleased to see me, my lord?’
His lips were a tight grim line as he regarded her. ‘Should I be? I had not thought to see you here with Master Sefton.’
‘You are acquainted with him?’
‘I know his father. James and I have met on a couple of occasions. Take my advice and choose your friends with more care. Young Sefton is a rogue who, since the King’s return, floats around the edges of the Court. He’s a veritable rake.’
‘An affable and charming rake,’ said Arlette, with an infuriating, barely discernible quirk to her lips, which William could not fail but to see and goaded him to further anger.
‘A rake just the same.’
‘Which you know all about, do you, my lord?’
‘Be that as it may, but I may not be around to save you the next time. Sefton should have known better and I curse the lad for his foolishness and thoughtless stupidity for bringing you to Whitehall. I will ask you once more. What are you doing here?’
Wide-eyed she looked at him. ‘Why, not having heard from you I thought I would seek you out. It has been two weeks now and I was hoping you would consider petitioning the King on my behalf.’
‘And your sister? As the elder of the two of you, why has she not put forward her desire to have your family estate returned to you?’
‘Hester is as eager as I am, but unfortunately Richard is not of the same mind and she will not cross him,’ Arlette said in a low, halting voice. ‘He insists that we wait until Thomas comes home and he puts forward the petition himself.’
‘There may be some sense in that.’
Arlette bit her lip and sighed. ‘I know that. But there are still people in Mayfield I remember—loyal people I care about who relied on the estate for their work.’
‘Arlette,’ he said, speaking in gentler tones. ‘You left Mayfield almost ten years ago. You were a child. Much has happened since then. The world has changed. Be it for better or worse we shall have to wait and see. I think your sister and her husband are right. Wait and see if Thomas comes home. Your father had a lawyer, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, in Oxford. I believe there is a sick old man living at Mayfield Hall who hasn’t long for this world.’
‘Then it may not be difficult to have it returned to your family. My advice is to contact him and ascertain exactly what happened to the estate and the family that lived there. If Thomas were to do that, he could then request its return.’
‘I can’t wait for him to do that.’
‘And what will you do if it is returned to you? Go and live there? Managing an estate and putting it to rights is a man’s job.’
Arlette stiffened and looked at him, not inclined to argue with him, but she had to make him understand. ‘I am perfectly capable of managing the estate. But you are right to point out the difficulties I would encounter, which I am fully aware of.’ Her expression became grave. ‘Much as I have my brother’s best interests at heart, it is impossible because I am about to become betrothed to Sir Ralph Crompton.’
‘And if Thomas still lives,’ William said quietly.
Arlette glared at him. ‘We do not know that he is dead. I will not mourn him until I know for certain. Until we learn anything to the contrary, I will continue to believe he is alive. He has to be. I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t come home.’
William looked away. Barbados! It was a hell hole. They might as well have given Thomas Dryden a death sentence, he thought. He would not say this to Arlette, not while she had hope in her heart that her brother would survive and come home.
‘It’s important to me that my family is back together again,’ Arlette said—never had she felt so alone in her life.
‘You have Hester.’
‘I also have another sister—a half-sister—I have never met. It is only recently that Hester told me of her existence and that my mother—whom I was told had died in childbirth when I was too small to remember—might still be alive. My father turned her out when he returned home after a long absence and found her nursing another man’s child. I have to find them. It’s important to me.’
‘I’m sorry, Arlette. I didn’t know that. I understand your need to find out what happened to them. But tell me, does Hester know you have come to the Palace to plead your case?’
Heat flushed Arlette’s cheeks and she could scarcely bear to look at him. Her heart began such a rapid beat that she felt slightly sick. She shook her head. ‘No. I did not tell her because I knew she would forbid it.’
‘And rightly so. She will be furious, as will Sir Ralph Crompton should he come to hear of it.’
Arlette had the grace to look shamefaced. Suddenly a young woman emerged from the shadows and came to stand beside him. It was the same young woman she had seen earlier, the same vivacious young woman who had disappeared behind a screen in James’s embrace, declaring her love with a kiss. Arlette stared at her, experiencing a disquieting feeling of puzzlement she could not explain. She was the same height as Arlette, the bone structure of her face fine and delicate, her form slender. William turned to her and smiled. She returned his smile with glowing eyes. Taking her hand, he drew her forward.
‘Arlette, I would like to introduce you to Marian Nesbit. Marian, I would like you to meet Arlette Dryden. When she was a girl I brought her to London. You remember, I told you about that time.’
Marian frowned and when she looked at Arlette something that appeared to be recognition crossed her face, but it was gone in an instant. ‘Yes, I remember.’ She smiled, a warm, friendly smile, revealing small, even white teeth, and, reaching out, she placed a hand on Arlette’s, obviously altogether unaware that Arlette had witnessed her amorous union with James Sefton. Her blue eyes fairly shone with a brilliance that matched her ebullient smile. There was a naivety about her, but also something that inspired trust, and Arlette was drawn to her in a strange way, although she could not have said why.
‘I am thrilled to finally meet you. William speaks of you often. He has told me all about the dangers you faced on the road, from cutthroats to Roundheads searching for fugitives from Worcester and how brave you were. In praising you I was sure his assertions were exaggerated until now.’
The sudden flush to Arlette’s cheeks evidenced her delight over the woman’s compliment and that William had spoken of her so generously. She met Marian’s eyes, which were as blue as her own. Unselfconsciously, Arlette studied her. This was just a casual encounter which she found disquieting and puzzling, one which would stay with her.
‘I am surprised that he would remember that—it was so long ago—so I suppose his account of that time is a bit farfetched, considering we managed to reach London without assault from either cutthroats or Roundheads. In those days, when I rode to London with him, I was far from pretty—more like an unkempt girl whom my sister scarcely recognised and lost no time in dunking in a hot tub.’
William caught and held Arlette’s gaze. ‘You are mistaken, Arlette. I do remember everything about that time and I recall you as being extremely brave.’ He looked at Marian, tucking her hand through the crook of his arm. ‘There is something I would like to tell you. Marian and I are to be married, Arlette.’
Thrown off balance, Arlette stared at him uncomprehendingly, as if she could not have heard him right. His wife? Had he really said he was going to marry this girl? But how could that be when she had just seen her kissing James? And how could William have kept this from her? Suddenly all the glitter of the Court was meaningless as the impact of his words hit her. She felt something inside her shatter, some hitherto untouched part of her heart breaking into tiny pieces. It sent her reeling into a black hole of desolation so deep she thought she would never climb out.
‘You are to be married...’ Arlette’s voice failed her.
Staring at them but without really seeing anything, she felt suddenly weak, lost, and there was a great emptiness inside her. So much for wishing he would fall in love with her. He had introduced her to his bride-to-be—why had he not told her before? And why should she mind that he loved another? Why should she want their relationship to be anything deeper than what it was? He had fulfilled her father’s wishes and brought her to London, but that gave her no reason or right to assume she could ever mean anything more to him than a devoted friend. During their time together all those years ago, having fallen victim to her grief and reaching out, she had found William. That was all. It could never be anything else.
With an iron control, Arlette pinned a false smile to her face. No matter who this woman was, she had arrived to shatter her new-found happiness. There was no room for anything in her vision, her heart or her mind but this one enormous disappointment.
‘Why, that—that is good news,’ Arlette said, looking from one to the other steadily, giving no indication of her thoughts, of how much seeing William with this woman pained her. ‘I—I do hope you will be very happy. Your wedding—is it to be soon?’
Marian smiled and glanced warmly at her betrothed, her face lighting up with a broad smile. Anyone would think it was a smile reserved only for him—but Arlette knew better. Marian was deceiving William with James, but it was not her place to tell him. But she knew that in the days to come, she would agonise over keeping the secret from him.
‘William is impatient for it to be soon,’ Marian uttered, ‘but so much has happened of late that we thought we would wait until Arlington Court has been returned to William.’
‘Of course. My brother Thomas was at school with William. I recall him saying it is a beautifu
l house.’
‘I believe it is. William has described it to me and I am impatient to see it.’
‘You—you met in France?’ Arlette asked tentatively.
‘Bruges,’ William provided. ‘Marian was there with her father.’
‘Sadly, my father died in Bruges,’ Marian said, a sadness clouding her eyes, ‘but not before William and I became betrothed. He had been ill for some time. Having no other family, he died content knowing that I would be taken care of.’
‘That must have been a comfort to him.’
‘Yes, it was. My mother went to the Continent with us when we were forced out of our home. Unfortunately she caught a chill on the boat, which developed into something worse, and she died soon after arriving in France.’
‘I am sorry to hear that.’
‘Is this your first time at Court?’ Marian asked.
‘Yes, it is. After all the years of austerity under the Commonwealth it all seems so strange—so different from what we’re used to seeing, so colourful and exciting, and how handsome all the ladies look. It makes me realise how hopelessly out of fashion my clothes are.’
‘I’m sure it does,’ Marian said, passing her eyes casually over her woollen gown, ‘but your dress is very pretty. To change one’s way of life cannot be done overnight, but new dresses can be turned out if one has the means.’
Arlette smiled, liking this young woman’s easy manner and friendliness. ‘That is true. We had no leisure for frivolous amusements. Everything that we did always seemed to have a serious purpose.’
‘You poor thing. What a miserable time that was. Why, England would shrivel up and die if it were to continue practising those wretched rules imposed on it by Cromwell. We heard that all theatres and places of entertainment were banned throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom. Even the ceremonies and festivities of Christmas were suppressed. And the maypoles, that harmless amusement of the people, pulled down—whoever heard of England without a maypole? But do not be taken in by all that you see at Whitehall Palace today. Many returning from exile are as poor as church mice. I was in Paris for a while and later with the Court at Bruges, but we heard what was happening in England. You must come back to Whitehall, mustn’t she, William? It’s so exciting one cannot fail to be impressed. All manner of delightful entertainments are to be enjoyed here at Court.’
Reunited at the King's Court Page 7
