A Desirable Husband

by Mary Nichols

  Miss Bannister patted her hand and stood up. ‘Now, shall I go and ask for a little light supper to be sent up to you?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’m starving.’

  Felix was at Larkhills when he heard the news that Sir Robert had died. After his quarrel with Esme, he felt as low as he had ever felt in his life. She had seemed determined to misunderstand him. The trouble was that he could not explain and asking her to trust him was more than she seemed able to do. That had made him as angry as she was at the time, but on reflection he could not blame her; he had done nothing to deserve her trust. He could only pray that everything would be resolved before she fell into the trap Gorridge was setting for her. Everything pointed to Connelly and Maillet being the ones to stir up trouble, but when he had tried to warn Edward against associating with them, his cousin had laughed in his face. And then he had had the temerity to ask him for more money. ‘Need to buy a horse,’ he had said.

  ‘You’ve had five thousand already.’

  ‘That was to pay my debts. But this will be an investment. I’ll pay you back with interest, as soon as my funds are released.’

  ‘And when will that be?’ He knew the answer to that, but wanted to hear it from the man’s own lips.

  ‘When a certain lady agrees to become my wife. My father was negotiating terms for the match just before he died.’

  ‘You are talking of Lady Esme Vernley, I assume.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Who else?’

  ‘And has she agreed?’

  ‘Not formally. That will take place on the evening of her ball.’

  His cousin’s expression of triumph was more than he could stomach. He had refused to give him another penny and taken himself off to Larkhills for a little peace and quiet and to work on the clay model of his figurine, prior to making the mould. He had worked hard on the features to reproduce Esme’s youth and innocence, but at the same time convey a subtle hint of the eternal Eve. He would never be totally satisfied with it, but it was as good as he could make it and he had set about making several moulds. Two days before he had made the glass and blown his first model, which had broken. He made the next, which was passable, but not quite right. He tried again and again until he was satisfied.

  ‘Perfect,’ his mother said on being shown the final attempt. ‘But it looks so fragile, as if you could break it in your fingers.’

  ‘Like the original, it is stronger than it looks, but I’m going to make three to be safe. One I’ll keep here, the others I’ll take back to London with me.’

  ‘She cannot fail to be enchanted.’

  He doubted if Esme would be swayed by anything so trivial and had considered abandoning the whole idea, but working on it, making it as perfect as he could, had given him a little solace.

  The day before he had made two more models and was just cleaning up after himself before going back into the house to change when his mother came to him, waving a newspaper. ‘Felix, Sir Robert Peel has died of his injuries and this paper is saying the Great Exhibition will have to be cancelled.’

  He took it from her and scanned the report. ‘I had better get back. There’s bound to be a debate and we can’t let the opposition win.’

  It was not until he arrived back in London that he heard about Patrick Connelly’s arrest and the implication being put on it by the money draft found in the man’s possession. It was just one more hurdle to be overcome.

  Unsure how far the rumours had spread, he went about town as usual, though he avoided Gorridge House and the Ashbury residence where Juliette was still residing. If she knew he was back in town, she made no effort to contact him and he hoped she had at last realised she would get nowhere with him. He called on Lady Mountjoy with an invitation from his mother to visit her at Larkhills, wondering if he would be received, but she had either not heard the rumours or had chosen to discount them because she made him welcome. As luck would have it, Lady Aviemore arrived while he was there. Her ladyship, learning of the move to have the Exhibition cancelled, had deemed it necessary to rally all her friends to reinforce their support of the project and to send a united petition to the Prince Consort not to allow such a thing to happen. She had heard something to his detriment, but put it down to malicious gossip on the part of those who wanted to put an end to the Exhibition. ‘Come to my soirée on Wednesday evening,’ she told him. ‘That will show them you are a loyal subject of her Majesty.’ She dug him in the side with the point of her parasol and laughed. ‘You will have the ladies of the ton on your side at any rate.’

  Wincing a little, he thanked her and promised to be there. It was one hurdle overcome. The next was to convince Esme, but he had seen nothing of her, though he walked regularly in the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

  Rosemary had not been at all well since the picnic and had hardly been out of the house, which had meant Esme did not go out either, so she did not see Felix. She filled her time with running errands for her sister and reading the newspapers and journals that Rowan had delivered daily, looking for mention of Lord Pendlebury, either to confirm or deny the latest rumours, but there was nothing. What was worse, Lord Gorridge was never off the doorstep. He arrived bearing flowers for Rosemary and for Esme; he begged to be allowed to run errands for them, to help with the arrangements for the ball, anything to keep him in the forefront of their minds. His visits stopped abruptly when Myles and Lucy arrived.

  They had been going to come for Esme’s ball in any case, but had decided to travel down a couple of weeks early. Myles wanted to do what he could to see the Exhibition come to fruition. He was not a member of Parliament and not a peer so, unlike Felix, he could not speak in the Lords, but he did have some influence in the business community, which he intended to use.

  When Esme told Lucy that Viscount Gorridge was a constant visitor, Lucy lost no time in telling Rosemary what she thought of her for allowing him to call, at all. ‘He is a charlatan, a liar and a lecher,’ she said. ‘And how you can bring yourself to receive him, I do not know. And as for encouraging him to lust after Esme—’

  ‘Lust after Esme! How can you say that?’ Rosemary said. The three sisters were talking in Rosemary’s boudoir where she spent much of her time since learning of her pregnancy. ‘You have not been here and have not seen him. He has never put a foot wrong and, whatever happened in the past, he has repented of it.’

  ‘He said it was all a misunderstanding,’ Esme put in. ‘And that all had been forgiven and forgotten.’

  ‘Not by me,’ Lucy said. ‘And not by him, I’ll wager. He’s up to something.’

  ‘Nonsense. Esme is quite a catch.’

  ‘Yes, she is, and that’s what worries me.’

  ‘What exactly did happen?’ Esme demanded. ‘Rosemary said he tried to kiss you too passionately and you were about to be engaged anyway.’

  ‘I never was. I had rejected him and he tried to force the issue. He tried to rape me, Esme. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘No, not exactly,’ Esme said doubtfully. ‘But I believe it is very terrible.’

  ‘It is. If he had succeeded, he would have ruined me for life. No other man would have considered marrying me and that was what he’d hoped for.’

  ‘Yes, but exactly what did he do?’

  ‘I found him in one of the glasshouses at Luffenham with a girl from the railway works. They were both naked. He sent the girl packing and turned on me. He tore my clothes off and flung me on the ground…No, I cannot go on.’

  ‘No, you should not,’ Rosemary said. ‘You are poisoning Esme’s mind against him. You were keeping him on tenterhooks and the girl seduced him. Men are easy prey to girls like that. You should not have reacted so violently, crying rape when none was intended. As a result, he spent six years in exile. He has expressed remorse, so it is not kind of you to drag it all up again.’

  ‘I did not drag it up. Esme asked and she has a right to know.’

  ‘He is devoted to her, as you will see for yourself when you see th
em together, and even if you did not want to be mistress of Linwood, perhaps Esme is not so stupid.’

  ‘Esme?’ Lucy appealed to her.

  Esme looked from one to the other. She had been shocked by Lucy’s revelation and it made her see Lord Gorridge in an entirely different light. But why, if he knew Lucy hated him so much, was he paying court to her? There was another mystery here and she wanted to solve it. It had nothing to do with wanting to be a Viscountess and mistress of Linwood Park because she had no intention of agreeing to marry him; it was nothing more than curiosity. ‘I wish you would not quarrel over it,’ she told her sisters. ‘I am being pulled both ways and it is a very uncomfortable feeling, I can tell you. Will you not let me make up my own mind?’

  ‘Very well,’ Lucy said icily. ‘But if you marry that man, I shall never visit you and he will never be welcomed into my home.’

  Esme began to laugh hysterically. ‘And I suppose if I were by some miracle to marry Felix Pendlebury, Rosemary will never visit me and he will be barred from Trent House as he is now.’

  ‘Marry Pendlebury!’ Rosemary exclaimed. ‘Whatever put that idea into your head, you foolish girl?’

  ‘I can dream, can’t I?’

  ‘That’s all it is, a dream. He will undoubtedly be tried for incitement to treason.’

  ‘Treason!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He has been supplying the dissidents with money to pursue their treasonable objectives.’

  ‘You must be mistaken. Myles would have known about it and told me.’

  ‘It is not generally known. I think the authorities are trying to hush it up to prevent general panic.’

  ‘I find that very hard to believe.’

  ‘Why do you say that? You have never met the man.’

  ‘Indeed, I have. He has visited us in Leicester and I found him very agreeable.’

  ‘Oh, that was because he is another like Myles, a man who likes to get his hands dirty.’

  ‘Please, please stop!’ Esme cried, clapping her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about either gentlemen and if this bickering goes on any longer I shall ask to go home to Luffenham.’

  ‘But you can’t,’ wailed Rosemary. ‘There’s your ball. The invitations have gone out and the arrangements are far advanced.’

  ‘It would be easy to say you were not up to it,’ Esme said.

  ‘How can I? I am not ready to retire from society yet. It is too early…’

  ‘No, Esme, you had better stay,’ Lucy said. ‘We don’t want a scandal, do we? Remember, you are a Vernley and hold your head up. You don’t have to accept anyone. There doesn’t have to be an engagement or an announcement.’

  And that was how the matter was left and the arrangements for the ball continued, though Esme was far from enthusiastic. If only she had not quarrelled with Felix, if only he could be invited to the ball, then it would be different. She would be looking forward to it in a fever of impatience. But it was not only Rosemary who was a barrier to that, it was Juliette Lefavre. What was the truth of that?

  Lucy took a great deal of the work from Rosemary’s shoulders and it was Lucy who accompanied Esme on shopping expeditions and walks and rides in the park. It was to Lucy, that Esme confessed her abiding love for Lord Pendlebury and her conviction that there must be a plot to discredit him because she could not possibly love a man who was wicked. It was his obduracy in not telling her of it that she found so hard to bear. ‘If only I could discover the truth,’ she told her sister, as they strolled along the path through Hyde Park, after a visit to the shops in Regent Street. ‘I might be able to do something to help him.’

  ‘Ask him.’

  ‘I tried, but he would not tell me and we quarrelled. I would give anything to tell him I did not mean to doubt him.’

  ‘It looks as though you will have your wish,’ Lucy said, smiling. ‘Here he is.’

  Felix had spotted them and was walking purposefully towards them. Esme only had time to notice his grey suit and black cravat and that his dear face looked troubled, the gleam of amusement gone from his eyes, before he was on them and doffing his black top hat. ‘Ladies, good morning.’

  ‘Good morning, my lord,’ Lucy said cheerfully, digging Esme in the ribs with her elbow to bring her out of the reverie in which she seemed to be indulging.

  It was difficult to get the words out but she managed it. ‘Good morning, my lord.’

  ‘How do you do, ladies?’ he said, addressing them both, but looking at Esme. Her general complexion was paler than he remembered it, but there were two high spots of colour on her cheeks. Was she remembering their quarrel, as he was? Had she regretted a single word she had said to him?

  ‘We are both well.’ It was Lucy who replied.

  ‘I am on my way back from looking at the site of the Exhibition.’

  ‘Is it still to take place?’ Esme queried. ‘I had heard it was to be cancelled.’

  ‘It is to go before Parliament next week and I want to make sure I have all the facts before I get to my feet.’

  ‘You will speak in its favour, I expect,’ Lucy put in, while Felix and Esme continued to look at each other like two hungry urchins with a meal held tantalisingly just out of their reach. They had unfinished business to transact but it could only be done in private and the opportunity was simply not there. And so they maintained a stiff politeness that would have been amusing if it had not been so heartrending.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You are going to speak?’ Esme asked in surprise. ‘I thought…Oh, dear…’

  He gave her a twisted smile, realising she had heard the rumours, but then how could she not considering Edward would have made sure she knew of them? ‘Still doubting me, Lady Esme?’

  ‘No, no, not at all,’ she said quickly. ‘I never doubted you, but other people might not be so charitable.’

  ‘I am glad of your confidence.’ His smile was wide. ‘As for others, they will be answered.’

  ‘We saw that picture in the News on Saturday,’ Lucy said, looking from one to the other and wishing she could knock their heads together. ‘The one Mr Paxton submitted.’

  None of the designs entered in the competition for the Exhibition building had found favour and the Commission were on the point of going ahead with their own design when a drawing was published in Illustrated London News that had everyone talking. Over eighteen hundred feet long and four hundred feet wide, with a dome high enough to enclose the huge elms, it would be made almost entirely of glass held together by iron girders. ‘It will blow down at the first gust of wind,’ Rowan had said contemptuously when he saw it.

  ‘I believe Mr Paxton is employed by the Duke of Devonshire to look after his gardens at Chatsworth,’ Lucy went on. ‘According to the report he designed the great conservatories there for his Grace’s exotic plants.’

  ‘Yes, so I understand.’

  ‘Do you like it?’ Esme asked him. ‘I recall your own design used glass as the principal building material.’

  ‘So it did, but it was not on such a grand scale and as I explained, I did not submit it because I do not have the time to devote to its construction.’

  ‘You told me you were more interested in making your exhibit.’

  ‘Yes, among other things.’

  ‘Is it finished?’

  ‘Yes, as far as my poor talent is able to finish it.’

  ‘You made it with your own hand? I thought it would be something from your manufactory.’

  ‘This I made myself in my own laboratory.’

  ‘You said you would show it to me.’

  ‘I will, but other things have to be resolved first.’

  ‘Oh, you make me so cross!’

  He smiled and Lucy laughed. Esme turned on her. ‘It is not a laughing matter.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she said, then to Felix, ‘My lord, what shall we do with her?’

  ‘I do not know about you, Lady Lucinda, but I sho
uld like to put her across my knee and spank her. And after that I should like—’He stopped speaking, searching Esme’s face for a flicker of that liveliness he had first seen in her, the ability to laugh at herself, the exuberance. It lit her face for a moment, then faded. ‘No, that would make her even more cross.’

  ‘I do not think you had better tell us the rest, my lord,’ Lucy said, smiling indulgently. ‘Or I shall be obliged to end the conversation and take my sister away.’

  ‘Oh, please do not do that. I will behave. Let us talk of other things. Are you on your way home?’

  ‘Yes. We have been shopping.’

  ‘Then may I escort you?’ He turned and faced the way they had been going and held out both arms. With one each side of him, they proceeded down the path, he in a plain brown suit of clothes and a cream cravat, and the two ladies in silk dresses: Lucy in green and Esme in pale blue which, in his opinion, matched her eyes. All three received envious glances from others in the park. They were, in the eyes of Annie Hicks, who watched them from the door of her stall, Quality with a capital letter, and as such did not have to worry about filling their bellies or clothing their limbs or keeping a roof over their heads as she did. The young gentleman had been present when she agreed to her compensation. Was it worth telling him it was not nearly enough and she wanted more?

  Esme’s hand was tucked into Felix’s elbow and he squeezed it gently. It was enough to set her quivering, just as she always did when she was anywhere near him. He seemed so at ease, as if the rumours being circulated about him did not trouble him in the least, just as if they had not quarrelled, as if she had not told him she hated him and never wanted to see him again. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  ‘My lord, do you go to Lady Aviemore’s soirée?’ she asked him, wanting to learn if he was being ostracised.

  ‘I shall certainly put in an appearance. Do you go?’

  ‘Lucy and Myles are going to take me. I do not think Rosemary will go.’