Reunited at the King's Court

by Helen Dickson

  Arlette noted how eager Marian had become and an animated gleam shone in her eyes. ‘I would like that, but I doubt my sister will permit me to come again when she learns of my visit today.’ She smiled when Marian gave her a questioning look. ‘I did not tell her I was coming, you see. She would have forbidden it and I fear I shall feel the wrath of her tongue when I get home.’

  ‘Then William must speak to her. You are acquainted with Arlette’s sister, are you not, William?’

  William nodded. ‘I am, but Hester is guided by her husband and, since Arlette is about to become betrothed, I doubt she will allow it.’

  Marian clapped her hands with delight. ‘That is wonderful news. And who is the gentleman you are to marry, Arlette?’

  ‘Sir Ralph Crompton—although nothing definite has been decided. He is a mercer in the city.’

  ‘Then he must accompany you to Whitehall. Would he like to, do you think?’

  Arlette gave her a dubious look. ‘I think I can speak for him and say no, he most certainly would not.’

  ‘Then William must have a word with your sister and persuade her to allow you to come. You can be charming when the mood suits you, William, so I am sure you can persuade her.’

  Arlette and William exchanged glances, each knowing perfectly well what Hester’s answer would be should Arlette show an interest in visiting Whitehall Palace again, but not saying anything to quash Marian’s natural exuberance.

  ‘There is to be a social gathering the day after tomorrow—not a grand affair, but it will be fun. Why, if you do manage to persuade your sister into letting you come, you might even meet the King.’

  Arlette stared at her in amazement. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined meeting Charles Stuart. ‘The King! Is he really as tall and handsome as everyone says?’

  Marian gave her a sparkling smile. ‘Oh, yes, yes, he is. There is no finer man in England. It isn’t only because he’s the King that everyone loves him—especially the ladies,’ she said in a conspiratorial voice and with a twinkle in her eye. ‘I do hope to see you again, Arlette. It would be so nice to get to know you.’ She spoke with a sincerity that touched Arlette. ‘If not here at Whitehall, then you must visit me at my house. William has rented a small property close to the Palace for the duration of our time in London. It would be nice to see you there.’ Suddenly Marian’s attention was caught by someone across the room beckoning to her. ‘Oh, there is Mrs Gardner.’ Giving the woman a little wave, she turned to Arlette. ‘Please excuse me, Arlette, but I really must go and see what she wants me for. I do so hope you will come the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Arlette replied, not holding out much hope of being able to persuade Hester as she watched Marian skip away without a backward glance.

  Feeling suddenly awkward and the need to be away from William now that everything had changed, Arlette bobbed a slight curtsy and backed away. ‘Please excuse me, William. I really must go.’

  ‘Go? Go where?’ William asked sharply.

  ‘Home.’

  ‘You cannot go alone. I will take you.’

  ‘No, William,’ she told him firmly. ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘You need protection with exuberant young lords prowling the corridors of Whitehall like predatory animals.’

  ‘You need not worry yourself. I have made arrangements. James will be waiting for me. I have known him for a little while now and, boisterous as he may be, I know him to be a gentleman.’

  ‘A gentleman would not have brought you here alone and I do not trust the fellow.’ Aware that courtiers were looking their way, he took her arm. ‘Come, walk with me. Your presence is attracting attention and I have no doubt everyone is curious to know who you are.’

  Arlette walked beside William as they moved along the gallery, trying hard to ignore the glances directed at her as she passed among the lively throng. ‘Do not worry yourself on my account, William. I think your display of solicitude and concern for my well-being should be directed at your betrothed, not me.’ She spoke lightly, but as if William read a hidden meaning behind her words he frowned, glancing at the young woman he was to wed who was in happy conversation with Mrs Gardner.

  ‘Do you think I have cause to worry about her? Although I cannot for the life of me think what Marian sees in Leticia Gardner,’ he growled as a hearty sound of feminine laughter came his way.

  Arlette studied the woman he referred to. With her red hair arranged high and wearing a low-necked saffron gown, perhaps twenty-five years of age, she had an open flamboyance about her that was completely alien to Arlette. ‘She’s very beautiful. Is she wealthy?’

  ‘Very—and meddlesome and manipulative. She’s a married woman, but I believe she plays her husband false.’ He looked back at Arlette, his face still creased in serious lines as he drew her into a window recess out of the way of prying eyes. ‘I asked you if you think I have cause to worry about Marian. Should I have cause to be concerned, do you think?’ he asked, steering the conversation back to her remark about his betrothed.

  Immediately Arlette regretted her words, which might insinuate that he should be worrying about Marian, for his face took on a seriousness when he spoke.

  ‘Not at all. How could I possibly think anything at all when I have not met her before today? She is a lovely young woman, William. I wish you joy in her. Now I really must go.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried. Do not bother yourself with me.’

  When he replied there was something in his voice which made Arlette’s heart quicken.

  ‘You are sadly mistaken if you think I am not concerned about you. It is important to me that you will be happy and safe. That you can be sure of. I can only imagine what your life has been like, living in your sister’s house. I suspect that your brother-in-law has treated you harshly on insisting you marry Sir Ralph Crompton despite your obvious aversion to the man. But Whitehall is not the place for you.’

  ‘No?’ She glanced at Marian, who was still in happy conversation with Mrs Gardner, their heads together, whispering and giggling behind fluttering fans. ‘Marian seems content with Court life—as does every other lady I have seen here today.’

  ‘In Bruges, Marian had no choice but to involve herself in Court life. There was little else to relieve the boredom. She is naive and trusting. She was the apple of her father’s eye and I promised him I would take care of her. Where you are concerned, Arlette, you need someone to guide you, to protect you, for you are ignorant of the realities of Court life, unfamiliar with the disciplines this will enforce on you and ill-equipped to deal with the reprobates who loiter about the corridors and halls. I am just glad I was here today, however severe and disagreeable I must have seemed when I found you in Sefton’s lap.’

  Arlette smiled at him, happy to see the warm friendliness in his eyes, but how she wished there was something else, something more loving, for his marriage to Marian would not erase what she carried in her heart for him. Had she imagined their closeness and that his feelings were something akin to her own when they had sat on the garden bench surrounded by the scent of honeysuckle and rosemary? She laughed with a lightness even though it pained her to do so.

  ‘Yes, William, you were disagreeable, but I do forgive you. Now,’ she said, looking around, hoping to see James, but failing to do so, ‘I really must go, but I do not see James. Perhaps he is waiting for me at the Palace gate.’ As the words left her mouth she had a feeling that it was not her that James would be looking for, but Marian. Clearly William didn’t suspect she was carrying on a flirtation with another man and it was not for her to tell him.

  ‘I insist on escorting you to the boat—you did come by the river?’

  ‘Yes, and you can insist all you like, but I really am not your concern. I am not a child and I am quite capable of taking care of myself.’

  ‘You little fool,’ he said, his expres
sion softening, deeply moved by her sudden change of mood. ‘Say what you will, but because I find you here alone I feel that you are my concern. I’ve told you—I care about what you do, that you are safe.’

  ‘Then don’t. I must go.’

  * * *

  Looking down at her, something stirred in the region of William’s heart when he looked into her clear eyes. ‘In a moment.’ Her beautiful hair was drawn off her face, revealing the long, slender column of her throat. He could not deny that what he felt for her was more primitive than anything he had experienced for any other woman before. She was looking at him, her eyes never leaving his face, and he saw past sorrow and sadness still there. He didn’t give her time to say anything. Taking her hand almost without thinking, he drew her further into a window embrasure and they were hidden from view by a heavy curtain. Briefly an image of Marian flashed before his eyes and his conscience at what he was about to do assailed him, but the moment was too strong to resist—the guilt would come later.

  Taking her upper arms, he drew her towards him, wrapping his arms about her. Something like madness exploded in his brain and before he could stop himself he had put his hand behind her neck and was planting a kiss on her lips that was so intense, so carnal and prolonged, that Arlette’s whole being was startled by it.

  * * *

  He had a capacity for seduction so powerful that nothing could have contained it. She floated, she drank in the air he breathed. The heavens could come tumbling down and the world could end, and she could bear it if he were there by her side.

  Her mouth was soft and sweet. They kissed each other hungrily and, shielded by heavy curtains, they were aware of nothing anymore but each other and the moment. Arlette trembled against him and he awoke hundreds of demons inside her head as she was swept along on a delicious tide of ecstasy. She forgot everything: her problems with Hester and Richard and his determination to marry her off to Sir Ralph Crompton, her worry over having Mayfield Hall returned—and even their disloyalty to Marian. What was it about this man that he could turn her life upside down and inside out? Everything about him seduced her.

  Somehow she managed to pull herself from his arms and swayed slightly, dazed by what they had done—what she had done—but strangely she did not feel any sense of guilt or shame. Perhaps that might have something to do with seeing Marian being embraced by James.

  She stepped away from William. ‘We can’t do this. It is not right.’

  William stood quite still, his face full of unconcealed passion. Seeing the desperate hunger mirrored in her eyes, he nodded, understanding, and their eyes locked together. ‘So,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s like that with you, too.’

  ‘Yes. I realise I should not feel this way. You are betrothed to a sweet girl. We cannot do this to her. It is unworthy. Do—do you love her, William?’

  He didn’t answer right away. At length, he said, ‘Yes, yes, I love her,’ but, Arlette thought, without much conviction. ‘Marian and I have known each other for a long time, Arlette, and indeed I owe her father a great deal.’

  ‘And does Marian love you?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘You said you promised her father you would take care of her. What kind of man was he? Did you feel beholden to him in any way and felt duty-bound to take care of her?’

  He didn’t immediately respond so the question hung in the air for the few seconds it took him to consider his reply.

  ‘Years before he lost his wife to cholera, quickly followed by his two young sons—his only offspring. Devastated by his loss, he threw himself into the war. He’d had his fair share of tragedy—enough for any heart to withstand in the space of a lifetime—but his capacity for love was not diminished. That was when he met Marian’s mother. She helped him deal with his loss and in the process he learned to love again—to trust. When she, too, died, on the crossing to France, he was inconsolable and became protective of Marian.’

  ‘And you and Marian? You said you owed her father? What did he do?’

  ‘I told you the fighting didn’t end with the wars here in England and I did not spend the years on the Continent kicking my heels. France was also enmeshed in its own Civil War. Along with the Duke of York and other courtiers, I joined the French army and embarked on several years’ active military service. In one skirmish I was wounded. I almost didn’t make it. Marian’s father found me and managed to get me to safety and a surgeon. He saved my life.’

  ‘What happened to him? Did you both make it back to Paris?’

  ‘Bruges. Marian was in Bruges. Sadly, the constant wars had taken its toll on him. Knowing he had not long for this world and deeply concerned about Marian, he asked me to take care of her, to make her my wife and bring her back to England.’

  ‘I see. That was noble of you, William.’

  ‘No, not really. It was not difficult. I had become extremely fond of Marian. I was happy with the situation—if not the circumstances that brought it about.’

  ‘Then you must carry out her father’s wishes and marry her,’ she said, even though it broke her heart to do so. ‘Surely there is no reason why you can’t marry before you leave for Warwickshire. I’m sure it’s what her father would have wanted.’

  ‘I know,’ he said quietly, looking deep into her eyes. ‘But I didn’t imagine for one moment that seeing you again would make me feel this way. I shall probably go out of my mind with wanting you. I want you so much that a moment ago I would have forgotten one of the sweetest girls a man could ever hope to marry. But you are right. I will not—I cannot—betray her love.’

  A sharp pain pierced Arlette’s heart at these words and she bowed her head in defeat. ‘I would not ask you to do that.’ She turned from him. The euphoria of his embrace had worn off and it was like waking from a dream, one that she had been living on, feeding on, from the moment she had seen him riding along the Strand with the King on his return to England. The kiss had changed everything—things could never be the same between her and William again. She felt that she had lost a happiness which had never been hers in the first place and, in that bitterest moment of all, she looked clearly at her situation as it was.

  William was betrothed to Marian, committed to her, and until Marian told him of the feelings she nurtured for another man and broke off their betrothal, then she must abandon any hope that he would turn from Marian to her.

  Moving out of the concealing alcove, Arlette was too preoccupied to note that their sudden appearance had been noted and commented upon by more than one sharp-eyed courtier eager for something new to gossip about. She was relieved to see that James had appeared in the hall. ‘I must go. James will take me home so don’t worry about me. Goodbye, William.’

  ‘Arlette, wait.’ She turned and looked at him. ‘Will you come the day after tomorrow?’

  ‘Not only will Hester refuse to countenance such a thing—but after what has just occurred between us, I don’t think that would be wise, do you?’

  Shaking his head slowly, William moved towards her. ‘Perhaps not, but I know Marian would value your presence. Speak to Hester. You might be surprised. If she agrees, then send a note to me here at Whitehall and I will see that you get here.’

  Excitement shone in Arlette’s eyes at the prospect. ‘But I have nothing to wear for such a grand occasion.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m sure you will come up with something.’

  * * *

  William bowed over her hand, then stood and watched her leave. How small her voice had sounded, he thought, pure and sincere, and this somehow pierced his armour. He remembered her father. The resemblance was quite apparent now she was older. Her carriage was refined and she had her father’s same penetrating eyes and firm no-nonsense chin. She had that polished air of resilient nobility and she carried her blessings with a grace and humility others could learn from.

  The sensations she had aroused in him when h
e had taken her into his arms surged through him anew. He told himself that only when he was married to Marian would he be purged of these feelings. But there was no denying that he was disturbed by the recollections of the graceful figure Arlette presented as she walked the length of the room towards James Sefton, who was waiting for her by the door.

  For a brief moment he felt a sharp pang of regret and uncertainty that he was betrothed to Marian, for Arlette Dryden had suddenly and unexpectedly presented herself to him as an ideal candidate for a wife. But she was to be someone else’s wife, a man she had an aversion to. He had heard it in her voice when she had spoken about him. Seeing her deep sadness had touched a tenderness, a protectiveness, within him.

  William had seen enough of the world to know that sometimes, out of desperation and despair, people found it necessary to act in a manner they would not otherwise have contemplated. Maybe Arlette was desperate. Or maybe she despaired. If, after making curious enquiries into Sir Ralph Crompton’s affairs and the character of the man himself, which threw more light on Arlette’s situation, if what he had learned was true, then it would appear she was willing to sacrifice her own happiness for her family’s welfare. He hoped Richard Arden would see sense and refuse to let the marriage go ahead, but he very much doubted it.

  A picture sprang into his mind of the time when he had proposed to Marian and how happy she had been at the prospect of being his wife. Now, when he looked into her eyes, because of the feelings he was developing for Arlette, he was filled with self-loathing and guilt. Guilt for not having thought of her as often as he should since he had met Arlette again and he could not deny that his impatience for their wedding to take place was no longer as strong as it had been.