by Mary Nichols
It was good to hear her laugh; her voice had been watery, full of unshed tears until now. ‘I didn’t have to, though I think he was expecting to meet Rosemary and me in Hyde Park, we go most days, but today Rosemary was not well and left me to go alone.’
‘And how will you explain your non-appearance?’
‘I went and we missed each other. The park is very crowded.’
‘Are you going to marry him?’
‘A minute ago you were asking me to marry you. I cannot wed you both.’ She was still shaking from that kiss.
‘No, you can’t, but I beg you, humbly beg you, not to let the prospect of being a viscountess influence your decision.’
‘If you think I would do that, you must have a very poor opinion of me, my lord,’ she snapped.
‘I beg your pardon. I am only concerned that undue pressure is being put on you.’
‘I am quite able to make up own mind, my lord. I must love the man I marry, his rank is not important. Just as my rank should mean nothing to him. I want to love him for the good man he is and him to love me for myself.’
‘Which I do.’
‘And he must have no secrets from me.’
‘Back to that,’ he said, with a heavy sigh. ‘What makes you think I have secrets from you?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘There are certain things going on that I am not at liberty to divulge at the moment, but—’
He was not allowed to finish. As far as she was concerned he had confirmed her worst fears. ‘I hate you!’ she said furiously, jumping to her feet. ‘Go back to your paramour. I never want to speak to you again.’ She grabbed her hat and ran back to her horse.
She was being helped into the saddle by Albert when he caught up with her. ‘Esme! Damn you, woman, why won’t you ever let me finish a sentence?’
‘I do not care for your language, Lord Pendlebury.’ Clicking her tongue at the mare, she kicked in her heel and the animal shot off across the grass as if she had been stung. Esme’s hat flew off and landed at his feet. Slowly he bent to pick it up, wondering if she might return for it, but when she did not, he flung himself into his own saddle.
‘Get after her!’ he shouted to Albert. ‘It’s what you are paid for, isn’t it? And don’t let her go off alone again or I’ll have your guts.’ This last order was yelled at the terrified boy’s departing back.
Felix went home, cradling the hat, a high-crowned affair with a sweeping green feather and a wisp of a veil. It smelled faintly of her perfume. He carried it up to his room where he put it on an old wig stand on his dressing table and then sat on his bed and gazed at it, as despondent as he had ever been in his whole life.
His talk with the Duke of Wellington had not given him the freedom he wanted. ‘Need you, boy, need you,’ his Grace had said when he endeavoured to explain his predicament. They had gone to Hyde Park to talk to Ann Hicks who had been running the cake and fruit stall by the Serpentine for years and lived in a nearby shack. She would have to move before building commenced, but was proving obstinate. Some members of the Commission wanted her ejected by force, but the Duke who, as Ranger of the Parks, had the ultimate responsibility, had been against that and had gone to talk to her himself. After a great deal of argument in which she accused the Exhibition people of depriving her of her living, she agreed to go quietly for just over ninety-two pounds, but not before the building started. The season was in full swing and she was doing a good trade. It was after she had gone back inside, muttering to herself but secretly pleased with her deal, that Felix had updated the Duke on what he had discovered so far and asked to be relieved of his onerous duty.
‘I can’t spare you,’ the Duke had explained. ‘I have had hundreds of letters from ordinary citizens about the security of the realm, asking me what I intend to do about the threat. Some say the Royal Navy should be stationed in the Irish Sea…’
‘Why there?’
‘Goodness knows. Perhaps they think trouble will come from that quarter. They talk of blockading the ports. Others suggest the whole of London should be cordoned off and troops drafted in to assist the police in examining everyone coming and going. Can you imagine it?’
Felix had smiled wearily at the image that created. ‘Pandemonium.’
‘Yes. Couldn’t be done. London is not a village street—it is the greatest metropolis in the world. If troublemakers want to come in, they will find some way of doing it, and so I told the Prime Minister. He suggested enlisting the help of French and German police on the grounds that they will recognise malcontents from their own countries.’ His scornful tone betrayed what he thought of that idea. ‘I can provide for the safety of the populace without the help of Frenchies.’ He had fought Napoleon for years and found it difficult not to think of the French as the enemy.
‘So what is your answer?’
‘Infiltration. I must use agents like yourself to forewarn me of trouble.’
‘I haven’t been able to uncover anything as yet. I have found Maillet, though so far have learned nothing against him.’
‘Try harder.’ The instruction was blunt and brooked no argument.
It was then that Rosemary and Esme had walked up and Esme had charmed the Duke, but not enough to let him off the hook. His idea of meeting her and asking her to trust him and telling her that all would be well in the end had failed miserably, and all he had to show for it was one battered hat with a crushed feather.
Esme had missed her hat before she reached the park gates, but nothing on earth could have persuaded her to return for it. She felt angry and humiliated and as miserable as anyone could be. She ought to be overflowing with happiness; he had, after all, kissed her, melted her insides, made her forget that the reason she wanted to talk to him was to find out if there were any truth in the rumours about him. Deep down inside her where her conscience resided she admitted she had wanted him to kiss her again. It was only to find out if what she felt was truly love, she told herself, as she slowed her horse to a walk and allowed Albert to catch up with her. It might have been fear or simply the frisson of excitement that came with doing something forbidden. It might possibly have been the same whoever kissed her; she had no way of knowing.
She could, she supposed, allow Edward Gorridge to kiss her and that might tell her. The trouble was, the mere thought of doing that was repugnant. There was Victor Ashbury, of course, and Captain Merton and any of the other young men she had met; the answer was the same. If they tried it, she would scream for help. She hadn’t screamed when Felix kissed her. She had not even struggled. And when he had told her he loved her, using such romantic terms she had wanted to cry, she had been convinced he meant it and was ready to discount the evil that other people spread about him. A man that could say those words with such tenderness could not possibly be a villain. Why, then, was she so wretched?
Was it because he had refused to trust her? Because he admitted to having secrets? Everyone had secrets. Was it because he had declined to sever his connections with Ma’amselle Lefavre? Because he refused to deny he was betrothed to the woman? A man who could play fast and loose with two ladies at the same time was most definitely not to be trusted.
‘Lady Esme.’
Startled at being addressed when she was so deep in thought, she looked up, half afraid it was Felix and they would go on where they left off, quarrelling with each other, she was almost relieved to see Lord Gorridge, who had just entered the park. He was riding a jet-black stallion. They both reined in a little to one side of the path to allow others to pass. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ she said, pulling herself together to speak pleasantly. ‘Is that a new mount?’
‘Yes, just purchased. What do you think of him?’
‘He is magnificent. Have you named him?’
‘Linwood Gorryham, Gorry for short. I thought I would try him out and, as Hyde Park is crowded with people going at the pace of a snail, I decided to come here. I had no idea you would be here. You are on your way out, I see.’
‘Yes, but I am in no hurry. I will stay and watch you put him through his paces and then you may escort me home, if you wish.’
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, my lady.’
She turned her horse, half expecting to see Felix riding up behind her, but there was no sign of him. He had obviously chosen a different exit. Her bravado, the need to show him she did not care by happily riding off with Lord Gorridge, suddenly evaporated, but it was too late to change her mind.
With Albert trailing, they rode side by side until they came to an open space where Edward left her in order to gallop as far and as hard as he could. She watched in admiration. He was a splendid rider and the horse was outstanding. She wondered idly how much it had cost him and then realised he was so rich the cost of anything he wanted was immaterial.
‘Bravo!’ she said, as he returned. ‘You have a winner there. Do you intend to race him?’
‘I might. We shall see.’ They turned and began walking their horses side by side towards the exit. ‘I intend to ride him to Richmond when we have our picnic. Will you go in one of the carriages or will you ride with me?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ That was true; her head had been too full of Felix to pay attention to the arrangements for the picnic.
‘Then say you will. It will give me so much pleasure to have you at my side.’
‘I am not sure the mare is up to it. She is only used to hacking in the parks.’
‘Then I will buy you a decent mount.’
‘Oh, no, I could not allow you to do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It would be too costly a gift.’
‘Not at all. What is money for, if not to spend, especially on someone for whom I have a great fondness?’
‘My lord!’
‘You are shocked that I have spoken so freely, I can see. I apologise if I am a little precipitate, but I say what is in my mind. I live in hope that you also have certain feelings for me and that between us there will come to be an understanding. I say no more for now, but ask you most humbly to think about that.’
Why did she want to laugh? It was not a laughing matter. Two proposals in as many hours must surely be out of the ordinary. And so differently couched. ‘My lord, I don’t know what to say,’ she said solemnly.
‘Simply say you will think seriously about what I have said.’
‘I think I can promise to do that.’
They had arrived at Trent House, where she dismounted and handed the mare over to Albert. ‘You did well, Albert,’ she said. ‘You may tell your father that.’ Blushing furiously, he set off for the mews at a trot, leading the horse. ‘Will you come in for refreshment?’ she asked Edward.
‘Not today, if you will excuse me, Lady Esme. This animal needs rubbing down and—’ he paused and smiled ‘—I have a horse to buy.’ He pretended not to hear her protest as he rode away.
She went indoors, to be greeted by Rosemary coming into the hall from the drawing room. ‘Was that Lord Gorridge I saw you with?’
‘Yes, we met in the park.’
‘Why did you not ask him in?’
‘I did, but he declined. He said he had an errand that could not wait.’
‘What a pity. I wanted to ask him something about the picnic.’
‘No doubt he will be back.’
‘You are looking very flushed. Has something happened?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The Viscount, has he said something of his intentions?’
‘Yes. He wants to buy me a horse.’
‘A horse!’ This was evidently not what she expected to hear. ‘Why a horse?’
‘So that I can ride beside him to the picnic and not go in the carriage.’
‘Oh, Esme!’
‘Yes, I know you are appalled. It is not done for young ladies to accept costly presents from gentlemen and so I told him.’
‘It is permissible if the gentleman’s intentions are serious. The world will know that you are his chosen one.’
‘Ah, but I haven’t chosen him.’
‘No, of course not, you must wait to be asked.’
It was all too much and Esme fled upstairs to her room on the pretext of changing out of her riding habit. She dashed into her room and fell on the bed, laughing. Edward Gorridge was so pompous, he sounded like Mr Collins in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, doing the lady a favour by asking her to marry him. Fondness, indeed!
Felix had not said fondness, Felix had said love. Felix had made her feel loved. It was only afterwards, when they quarreled, that she had doubted it. He would not ask her again. He would go back to his first love. And she was bereft. It was then, in the privacy of her room where no one could see or hear her, the laughter turned to tears.
Chapter Eight
The day of the picnic dawned warm and sunny. Rosemary who had been unsure of whether she should go, declared herself fit and well able to withstand the carriage ride. She bustled about urging Esme to make haste, that the carriage had been ordered for ten o’clock and Lord Gorridge was sure to be on the doorstep at the appointed time ready to escort them.
Esme had not seen him since the ride in the park and had no idea if he really had meant to buy her a horse. Perhaps it was all show, just to see how she would react, and she hoped he had taken her at her word that she could not accept such a gift. She was disabused of that idea when Croxon came to the back door and asked to speak to Lady Trent.
‘What can he want?’ she demanded. ‘He was given his instructions yesterday. He can’t have forgotten them.’ She left the room, but was back in less than five minutes. ‘He wanted to know if it was my wish that he put your saddle on the new mare,’ she told Esme. ‘It seems Lord Gorridge has been true to his word.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I told him yes, you were expecting to ride and to have it saddled and brought round with the carriage.’
‘Oh, dear, I did not think his lordship would do it.’
‘Well, he has, so hurry up and change. Put on your new habit. That one of Lucy’s has seen better days.’
She went reluctantly. Miss Bannister, ready herself in stiff grey taffeta and a poke bonnet, was picking up Esme’s shawl. ‘It might be cooler by the time we return,’ she said.
‘I have to change, Banny. It seems I am to ride, after all.’
‘Oh, I wish people would make up their minds,’ the old lady said, abandoning the shawl to help her out of the light spotted muslin she was wearing. ‘Does that mean I am not to go?’
‘Of course you must go.’ Esme knew the old lady had been looking forward to the outing; she missed the clean air of the countryside around Luffenham. ‘Rosie might need you to help her.’
‘Why change your plans so late in the day?’
‘It was not my doing, Banny. Lord Gorridge has bought me a horse.’
‘A horse! Oh, Esme, you have not accepted him, have you?’
‘No, but it seems I must accept the mount, at least for today.’
‘Same thing.’
‘You do not sound very pleased.’
‘It is not for me to be pleased or otherwise, my lady.’
It was said so stiffly that Esme laughed. ‘You don’t like Viscount Gorridge, do you?’
‘It is not what I like that counts. Which habit are you going to wear?’
‘The new one, Rosie says.’
‘If you want my opinion, Miss Esme…’ She paused, waiting.
‘Go on.’
‘You must not allow other people to make up your mind for you.’
‘About what I should wear?’
‘You know very well I did not mean that, but no matter. I have said all I am going to say.’
‘Do you know something against Lord Gorridge?’
‘Ask your sister.’
‘Rosie?’
‘No, Lady Lucinda. Does she know he is here in London and pursuing you?’
‘I don’t know. I wrote to he
r when I first arrived, but I have been so taken up with all our social engagements I have neglected my correspondence. I know there was some trouble between him and Lucy years ago, but he assures me it was all a misunderstanding and all is forgiven and forgotten.’
Miss Bannister’s reply was a sniff, but Esme had no opportunity to press her because the sound of the front door knocker put an end to the conversation and both ladies went downstairs, where a footman was just admitting the Viscount.
He almost bounded into the hall, smiling broadly and doffing his tall riding hat. ‘Lady Esme, good morning. It is going to be a lovely day. I see the new mount is saddled up and waiting and you are looking delectable in that habit.’
‘Thank you, my lord, but I have not said I will accept the horse.’
‘Oh, you will when you see her. She is a real beauty.’
Rosemary came out of the drawing room, pulling on lace gloves. She was followed by Rowan, who had elected to ride in the carriage with her. ‘Good morning, Lord Gorridge. We are all ready.’ She accepted her parasol from her maid and preceded everyone out of the house.
Esme gasped when she saw the mare. She was, as Edward had said, a real beauty, as black and glossy as the horse Edward had bought for himself, except that she had a white blaze on her nose and a white sock on her left foreleg. Esme walked forward and patted her neck.
‘She is my stallion’s half-sister,’ he told her.
‘Oh.’ That seemed to make her embarrassment even worse. ‘What is she called?’
‘That’s up to you. It ought to be Linwood something or other.’
‘Blaze,’ she said, stroking the mare’s white nose.
‘Linwood Blaze it is. Shall you mount up?’ He bent to take her foot and lift her into her saddle.
The animal stood patiently while everyone else settled themselves in the carriage and then Edward mounted and they were off, walking the horses down Kensington High Road towards Hammersmith, following the carriage, whose pace was dictated by the traffic.
‘How is she?’ Edward asked after several minutes of silence.
‘Excellent, but you know, my lord, I cannot accept her as a gift. It would not be seemly.’