by Mary Nichols
‘My lord, I think I should tell you now that I have decided—’
‘Ah, Gorridge, just the man I want to see.’ The voice was loud and insistent.
They both turned to see a rather fat man in a brown check suit pushing his way through the throng towards them. She heard Edward curse under his breath, just before the man reached them. ‘Go away, Philippe, can’t you see I am busy?’
‘You are for ever busy, Gorridge. I think perhaps you have been avoiding me and that will not do, will not do at all.’
It sounded like a threat to Esme and she looked from one to the other in puzzlement.
‘I beg your pardon, Lady Esme.’ Gorridge said. ‘May I present Monsieur Philippe Maillet, an acquaintance of mine from my days in France. Maillet, Lady Esme Vernley.’
The man bowed perfunctorily. ‘My lady, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My friend Gorridge has been singing your praises and now I know why.’ His English was so perfect he could easily have been mistaken for a native.
Esme said, ‘How do you do?’ before turning back to Edward. ‘I will leave you to speak to your friend, Lord Gorridge. Please excuse me.’
As she moved away she heard Edward say, ‘What do you want, Philippe? Couldn’t you see I was engaged? Now I do not know if the lady will ride with me or not.’
‘This is important. Connelly will spill the beans if something is not done to stop him.’
She would have liked to stop and hear the rest of the conversation, but was more intent on leaving the room unobserved and finding her way into the garden. Oh, let him have waited, she prayed, as she walked swiftly across the lawn, looking for him. If I don’t talk to him tonight, when will I have another opportunity before my ball?
He was down at the very end of the garden, concealed from the house by shrubbery, pacing the two or three steps from the path to an arbour and back again. He turned when he heard her footsteps. She started to run towards him and then stopped in confusion. What was she thinking of? Nothing had been settled between them—running to him like an eager bride was not the way to approach him. She slowed and walked sedately to a seat in the arbour and sat down. Honeysuckle wound round its wooden supports and filled the air with its perfume. It was quiet there, the only sound the trickling of water somewhere out of sight and the distant barking of a dog.
‘Esme, you came, I was beginning to think you had changed your mind.’
‘I’m sorry I was so long,’ she said. She was almost breathless, as if she had run all the way down the garden and not just a couple of paces. ‘Viscount Gorridge waylaid me and I could not get away from him.’
He came and sat beside her, turning so that he was half facing her. ‘I would not have expected him to attend a function like this. What did he have to say?’
‘Just politeness, nothing of any consequence.’
‘Did he follow you?’
‘No, because he was accosted by a friend of his, a Monsieur Philippe something or other, and I left them talking.’
‘Maillet?’
‘That’s it. The name sounds French, but he speaks perfect English.’
‘I believe he had an English mother.’ He picked up her hand, which was nervously pleating her skirt along the line of the stripes. ‘Never mind about him now. We must talk.’
‘The last time you said that…’
He laughed. ‘Yes, I remember I said actions speak louder than words.’
Colour flooded her cheeks at the memory of his kisses. ‘I…I didn’t mean that, I meant the substance of what you said.’
‘As I recall, there was little substance to our conversation.’
‘Asking me to marry you has no substance, then?’ she demanded sharply. ‘Do you make a habit of proposing to young ladies on the slightest acquaintance, no matter that you are planning to marry someone else?’
‘No, I do not. In the first place, I would not have said our acquaintanceship was slight, would you? And in the second, I have already told you there is no one else; if a certain lady told you there was, she lied.’
‘Convince me.’
‘That is precisely why I asked to speak to you.’ He paused. ‘How can I convince you?’
‘Deny it.’
‘I do.’
‘I mean, make her admit she lied.’
‘That would hardly be chivalrous, would it? I have spoken to her and she knows that she was wrong. In doing so, I am afraid I have made an enemy. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Isn’t that what they say?’
‘Does that worry you?’
‘No, of course not.’ It was said firmly enough to convince her in spite of his own misgivings. ‘What worries me a great deal more is what you think of me.’
‘I think—’ She stopped. ‘I think you are an enigma, a man with a past, a man with secrets, perhaps a man dangerous to know, but in spite of that, I think you are a good man. It is not me you have to convince of that, but my family and the rest of the world.’
He turned and took her chin in his hand so that he could tilt her face up to his. ‘Thank you for that, my darling.’
‘But you are in trouble.’
‘It will be resolved and when it is, I shall ask my question again.’
‘Oh, what question is that?’ she asked lightly
‘Ah, you cannot resist teasing, I see. You want me to repeat my proposal. You want me to tell you how much I love you, that I cannot contemplate life without you; that with you, life will be a never-ending dream come true, without you a barren wilderness of long days. You want me to say I will never stop loving you, though the sea dry up and the sky fall in…’
‘Now who is teasing?’
‘I am not teasing. I mean every word.’ He cupped her face in his hands and gently lowered his lips to hers. Her arms went up and round his neck and she clung to him, revelling in the familiar sensations of being part of him, fused so closely they became one, two hearts beating as one, one body, one mind, one everything, to have and to hold. It was the need to breathe that drove them apart.
‘When you do that to me, how can I doubt you?’ she whispered.
‘Ah, I did say actions speak louder than words.’
With his arm about her shoulders, they sat quietly for a moment, unwilling to break the spell, but it was Esme that broke it. ‘Felix, what are we going to do?’
‘Do, my dear?’
‘About Ma’amselle Lefavre and Lord Gorridge and the trouble you are in.’
‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. It won’t touch you.’
‘But it already has. Whatever you do touches me, surely you know that? And the worst of it is I cannot defend you because I don’t know what is at the back of it.’
‘I cannot tell you. And I would rather you did not attempt to defend me.’
‘Why not?’
‘It will not help, it might even make matters worse. But thank you for the sweet thought, my darling.’
‘It is something to do with the arrest of that man, isn’t it? What was his name? It was an Irish name, as I recall. They are saying you gave him money to fund insurrection.’
‘Not true. I paid a debt for someone else.’
‘Won’t that someone else vouch for that?’
‘They do not choose to.’
‘I seems to me that Juliette Lefavre is not your only enemy.’
‘No.’
‘I believe it might be Viscount Gorridge.’
‘True, he is not overfond of me,’ he said laconically. ‘But that is because he believes I stand between him and the object of his desire.’
‘Which is?’
‘You, my dearest one. He has his heart set on marrying you.’
‘Then he is bound for disappointment. After what he did to Lucy, I would not even consider him, even if I had not fallen in love with you.’
He grinned. ‘You never said that before.’
‘I could not, could I? According to Rosemary and the books on etiquette she instructed me to
read, it is not a lady’s place to declare her feelings.’
‘But you have said it now.’
‘It just slipped out.’
He laughed and hugged her. ‘So what is your solution to our problems?’
‘You must put an end to the speculation about your patriotism and I must hold off Lord Gorridge.’
‘Yes, do that, my dearest, but do not let him know we have talked, not until I am freed of my obligations and the slur on my character.’
‘Will it be before my ball? It is less than a week away.’
‘I sincerely hope so. Then perhaps I might be welcome at Trent House.’ He paused. ‘You will not let Lady Trent change your mind, will you?’
‘No, of course not. I would not, anyway, but now Lucy is staying with us, it will be easier.’
He kissed her again. ‘If you hear anything else about me or anything that might help, try to find a way of letting me know. Mr Moorcroft can be trusted, I think.’
‘Of course he can. One thing I did hear. When I was leaving Viscount Gorridge just now, I heard the Frenchman tell him that Connelly was going to spill the beans if they did not do something to prevent it.’
‘Interesting,’ he said, standing up and drawing her to her feet. ‘I think perhaps it is time you returned to the house before you are missed. I won’t come back inside. There is a gate over there that leads to the mews—I’ll use that.’
‘How shall I know that all is well?’
‘You will know.’ He kissed her lightly and gave her a little push. ‘Now, off you go. My love goes with you always, wherever you are and wherever I am. Always remember that.’
She started back up the path. At the corner just before the end of the shrubbery which would bring her into view from the house, she turned and looked at him. He was standing just as she had left him. She smiled and waved and walked on, but there was a spring in her step that had not been there before and a slight smile played about her lips.
‘Esme, where have you been?’ Lucy demanded on seeing her. ‘I have looked everywhere for you. Everyone has gone home.’
‘I was in the garden.’ It was said dreamily. ‘It was so lovely out there.’
Lucy looked at her closely. ‘Oh, I see. Better not let Rosie see that look, or she will begin to suspect.’
‘What look?’
‘The look of a woman who has been soundly kissed.’
‘Oh. I did not know it showed.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Only because I know you and understand.’
‘You are not to say anything to anyone. Felix—I mean Lord Pendlebury—says we must go on as before until he has resolved his difficulties. Besides, Rosie would throw a fit.’
‘I am inclined to agree with him. Now, come along, Myles sent me to look for you. He is becoming impatient.’
They joined Myles who was at the front door, bidding their hostess goodbye. After adding their own adieus, they climbed into a hired carriage. Myles and Lucy chatted all the way home, but Esme did not hear them. She was reliving her precious moments with Felix, feeling his hands about her face, his lips on hers, hearing his low voice telling her what she most wanted to hear. She trusted him, she loved him and now he knew it. There was still much to be resolved, mysteries to be un-ravelled, conflicts and enemies to be overcome, but that did not matter. She had found a man to desire.
Felix was on a train taking him to Luffenham when the news broke that someone had murdered Patrick Connelly in Newgate prison. According to Rowan, who brought the news to Trent House, an inquiry was to be held to discover if someone had come in from outside or whether it was one of the other prisoners, and though no one said he had actually done the deed himself, it was being suggested that a certain Lord Pendlebury was behind it on account of wanting to prevent the prisoner giving evidence against him.
‘He is being sought for questioning,’ Rowan told everyone when he came home to dinner that evening. ‘But he has disappeared. He was not at home when the police went there and his servants either would not or could not say where he had gone. Nor was he at any of the clubs. Telegraph messages have been sent to the police in Birmingham to apprehend him if he goes to Larkhills or his manufactory.’
‘But why suspect Lord Pendlebury?’ Lucy asked, looking sideways at Esme who had let out a cry of distress and dropped her knife and fork with a clatter. ‘I am sure he can have had nothing to do with it.’
‘The evidence is damning,’ Rowan went on. ‘First there is the fact that he has been seen on more than one occasion in the company of Patrick Connelly, an Irishman known to be a troublemaker who has connections with the revolutionaries in France. They mean to disrupt the peace of this country and what better way to do it than during the Exhibition or even before, when people are coming into London bringing exhibits. Bombs could easily be hidden among them.’
‘That is verging on hysteria,’ Myles said. ‘We have an army and a navy and a police force second to none. The Duke of Wellington is confident the peace can be maintained and her Majesty’s subjects can go about their business in complete safety. Connelly was a hothead.’
‘Then why would someone want to kill him?’ Rosemary asked.
Esme had been sitting perfectly silent and perfectly still through this exchange, but inside she was trembling with fear, convinced her beloved Felix was in mortal danger. Whoever had killed Mr Connelly might turn on him next. She was about to venture that perhaps someone should ask Monsieur Maillet, but decided not to speak. It would mean a cross-examination and she did not feel up to explaining what she had overheard the Frenchman say to Lord Gorridge. She had told Felix and he had pretended to be unconcerned, but it was soon after that he sent her back to the house and made his own way out by a back gate. It might, to her biased listeners, point even more strongly to his guilt.
‘The inquiry will establish the truth,’ Myles said. ‘I, for one, am not inclined to think Lord Pendlebury capable of killing anyone, or inciting anyone else to do so.’
‘I must confess I find it difficult to comprehend,’ Rowan went on. ‘But you cannot deny he has some very strange friends. And why would an innocent man disappear?’
‘No doubt we shall learn the answer in due course.’ Myles was the only one who seemed calm.
‘Then I suggest we drop the subject,’ Rosemary said. ‘It has nothing to do with us and I can think of more pleasant topics for our conversation.’
Her advice was taken and if anyone noticed that Esme was silently immersed in her own thoughts, they did not comment on it. Felix had asked her to let him know if she heard anything else, but if he had left town, how could she do that? If he was a wanted man, however innocent, he would not dare show his face publicly until he could prove it. And when would that be? The man who could vouch for his innocence was dead. There was Lord Gorridge, of course. He must surely know the truth. Why did he not speak up? Felix had told her it was because they both wanted to marry her. There was only one way to find out if that was so and that was to ask and make sure Lord Gorridge knew she never, never would accept him.
‘Esme, what are you dreaming about?’ Rosemary demanded. ‘You haven’t heard a word I said.’
‘Oh. Sorry. I was miles away. What did you say?’
‘We were talking about your ball gown and I asked you if Madame Devereux said you needed another fitting.’
‘No, I think it is nearly finished. Madame said there was only the beading to do and she has several of her assistants working on that.’
‘Are you pleased with it?’ This from Lucy.
‘Yes, it’s lovely and I have Rowan to thank for it,’ she said, trying to sound animated but not quite succeeding. The dress was indeed lovely, in heavy ivory satin trimmed with gold embroidery and seed pearls, but if Felix were not there to see her in it, what did it matter what she wore?
‘I can’t wait to see it.’
‘We are keeping it a secret until the night,’ Rosemary said. ‘You must wait and see like everyone else.’
That was the end of that for a conversational gambit, so Rosemary tried again. ‘What is everyone doing tomorrow?’
Rowan said he was going to a meeting with Lord Brougham and Colonel Sibthorp; Myles said he had business to conduct though he did not specify what it was. Esme supposed they were both intent on lobbying their point of view before the final vote was taken in the Commons on whether to go ahead with the Exhibition. Rosemary said the florists were coming to decide on the decoration for the ballroom and Lucy said Myles had arranged for a hired horse for her and she intended to go for a ride first thing after breakfast.
‘May I come?’ Esme asked. ‘That is, if Rosie doesn’t need me.’
‘No, I shall not come down for breakfast,’ Rosemary said. ‘I am not fit to be seen before the middle of the morning.’
And so it was the following morning Esme was once more in the saddle, riding Blaze into Green Park with Lucy beside her.
‘Why did you want to come here and not Hyde Park?’ Lucy asked her.
‘I am looking for someone.’
‘Lord Pendlebury? Do you know where he is?’
‘No, I have no idea where he is. I meant Viscount Gorridge.’
‘Esme! How could you? You know how I feel about that monster.’
‘Yes, but it is the only way. It is partly because of Lord Gorridge that Felix is in this mess and he can save him if he chooses to.’
‘How have you come to that conclusion?’
‘The money found on Mr Connelly was nothing to do with a revolution. It was to pay Lord Gorridge’s gambling debts, though why he could not pay them himself, I do not know, nor why Felix should feel the necessity to oblige him, except that he is his cousin.’
‘Did Lord Pendlebury tell you this?’
‘Yes. No, not exactly, but I know I am right. I mean to appeal to Lord Gorridge to come forward and explain what happened.’
‘You don’t think he will do it simply because you ask it of him, do you? He won’t, you know, not unless you offer something in return.’
‘Money?’ Esme turned in her saddle to face her sister. ‘Oh, dear, I don’t have any. There is my marriage portion, but from what Papa has told me, that doesn’t amount to much.’