Meridon (Wideacre Trilogy 3)

by Philippa Gregory

  I raised my riding crop and brought it down with one wicked slash across his face. He snatched it off me and he broke it across his knee and threw the two pieces towards me. Sea shied and reared high, frightened by the noise and the anger, and I had to cling to his mane to stay on.

  ‘I hate you,’ I shouted. I was choked with abuse which would not come.

  ‘I hate you,’ Will replied instantly. ‘I’ve been a fool for months over you, but every time I have been with you I went home to Becky and she took me into her arms and loved me, and I knew that was where I belonged.’

  ‘You go back to her then,’ I said. My voice was choked with anger, and my cheeks were wet though I was not crying. ‘You go back to her and tell her that she is welcome to have you. I don’t want you, I never have wanted you. You’re a dirty common working man and I’ve seen thousands like you everywhere I have ever lived. You’re all the same. You’re all boastful and braggart, randy as dogs and weepy as chavvies. I’d rather have Perry than you any day. So go back to your slut, Will Tyacke, and her dirty little bastards. Go to your stupid farm in the north and rob and ruin another landowner. I don’t want to see you ever again!’

  I wheeled Sea around and thundered away, forgetting all about the rule of not galloping in the park. I raged against Will, shouting abuse and swearing out loud, all the way back to the gate, and then as we trotted through the streets I swore under my breath, the rich filthy language of my childhood. I stormed up the steps to the front door and hammered on it loud as a bailiff. The footman gaped at me and I ordered him to take Sea around to the stables for me in a voice which made him leap to do my bidding. Then I raced up the stairs, two at a time, to my room and slammed the door behind me. I was so angry I could not think what to do or what to say.

  I leaned back against the door, my hat squashed against the wooden panels and I shut my eyes. They felt hot in my hot face. Then I remembered what he had said about Becky, and I found I had clenched my hands into fists and I was cramming them both against my lips to stop me screaming in rage. He had told me that he loved her, that he loved her body, that he loved to hold her in his arms, that he was going to marry her.

  That last took the rage from me as if I had had the breath knocked out of me with a fall. I thought of him smiling and kissing my wrist and then going back to his cottage where she waited for him. I thought of her three little children around his table, pleased to see him home. I thought of her sitting on his lap in the firelight after the chavvies had gone to bed, then I thought of him holding her in his arms all night long. He had said that she adored his touch.

  I stood with my back against my bedroom door staring into the room, silently, for a long time.

  I went over to the writing table and I drew a sheet of the expensive notepaper towards me. It was embossed with the Havering crest in gold, and on the right-hand side I spelled out the London address. At Havering Hall they had notepaper with the Sussex address. One day soon I would be the new Lady Havering and all this, two sorts of notepaper and everything, would be mine.

  It took me a white, for I could not write swiftly. I had to print the words and many of them were spelled wrong for all I knew. So it did not look as proud and angry as I wished. I wanted to hurt him, to cut him to the heart.

  To Will Tyacke,

  Your behaviour and language in the park today were not what I expect of one of my farm workers. I would be grateful if you would terminate your work on Wideacre forthwith and leave my land.

  Yours faithfully,

  Sarah Lacey.

  Then I wrote another:

  Dear Mr Tyacke,

  You have no right to speak to me as you did today, and you know it. I pledged my word months ago to marry Peregrine Havering and of course I intend to hold to that promise. Your own affairs are your own concern. I have no interest in them. If you wish to leave Wideacre I am sure I am very sorry to see you go. If you wish to stay I will accept your apology for speaking in an improper fashion.

  Yours faithfully,

  Sarah Lacey.

  I slid that version to one side and went to look out of the window. Then I turned and went back to the little writing table. I was in an anger hotter than anything I had felt in years, perhaps ever. I could not let it go with formal words.

  Dear Will,

  How dare you talk to me like you did today!

  You must be mad to even dream of speaking to me as you did!

  Let me tell you two things. One is that I am your employer, the squire of Wideacre and shortly to be Lady Havering. One word from me, one word and you don’t work in Sussex any more. And don’t think that you could get work elsewhere. There isn’t an employer in the country who would take you on after I tell them that you abused me to my face, and in the coarsest of terms.

  I have no interest whatsoever in your messy little intrigues with your woman, nor in your opinions. I want you gone from Wideacre at once, but before you leave I insist that you come to London and see me at once. At once, Will.

  Sarah Lacey.

  I sat with that version before me for a long time. Then I sighed and pulled forward another sheet of paper. The anger was seeping away from me.

  Dear Will,

  I am angry with you, and I am sad. You are right and I am a fool. I have lived my life here in London, and also with them at the Hall as if I were blind, as if I had forgotten where I was raised and what mattered most to me.

  You don’t understand how it is with me and Peregrine, and I let you misunderstand me. He comes to my room because he is like my brother, like a little brother to me. I can’t withdraw from the marriage – he needs me, and I like how I am when I am with him. I like to give him the care and courage he needs. I have never given anyone anything, except one person once. And I failed her at the last. Now there is someone who needs the things I can do, who looks to me for help. I want to be good to him Will. That cannot be wrong. Forgive me, it is truly what I want. I am afraid it is all I am fit for.

  Your friend,

  Sarah.

  The clocks chimed softly; it was eleven already. I should be changing for breakfast at noon, and then I should change again to go out to the princess’s luncheon. I swallowed experimentally. My throat was sore. It was not sore enough to let Lady Clara excuse me from lunching with the princess. I put my hand to my forehead. It was hot, but not hot enough. I would have to go. I would write a letter and put it in the post for Will before I went.

  I thought of him riding back to Sussex, in a rage; alone. And I wanted to speak with him, to take back the things I had said which I had not meant. I thought of the weal of the riding whip which had come up on his cheek and though I had known blows and bruises a-plenty, I felt that this single blow was the worst I had ever known. And it had been from my hand.

  I was too rough, I was too wild. I was wrong for Perry, I was a foul-mouthed little pauper, no match for Perry’s delicacy. But I was too hard for Will. It was all wrong. I belonged where I had been raised, down among the fighters and the swearers, where you lived by your wits and your fists, and you never loved anybody.

  Dear Will,

  You are right, they have trapped me. I thought I was so clever and I thought I was winning my way through to the life I wanted to lead. But I was wrong and they caught me while I thought I was catching them. They have caught me – all of them. The Haverings and the Quality and the lords and ladies and the life we live in London. I have been a fool Will and I have to pay for it.

  Not Perry. I know you hate him because he is what he is – a drunkard and a gamester and a fool. But he is also like a child, he is not a cheat. He loves me Will, and he needs me. And his love for me and his trust in me will make me a better person, a kinder woman. If I stay with Perry I may learn to love him as a woman ought to be able to love a man. If I stay with Perry I think I can rescue him from his folly, and myself from my coldness. I think I can get him away, away to the country, and we will find some way of treating each other with tenderness and love. He will do as
I wish. He will run Havering as I order, and I shall run Wideacre. And then we can do the things which you have wanted all along. I know I was wrong to suspect you, and James Fortescue. I have met Quality rogues now, and I understand how they work. I know you are not liars and cheats, not you, not James, not all the people at Acre. I shall come home to you, with Perry, and everything can be different. We can run the whole Havering-Wideacre estate as you would wish, as a corporation, and you will see that Perry is a good man. You will come to like him Will.

  I am sorry that I have been so foolish about you, and about Becky. I will try to be glad about that, glad that you love her. I have been selfish I think. I did not know that there was that between you, I should have guessed – I lived in a wagon long enough! I just did not think. I am sorry. I feel foolish that I did not think, but I am glad that she loves you, and that you love her. I am sorry that I was selfish in asking you to come to London to see me as I did. I was lonely here, in this big city, and I wanted to hear your voice and see your face. But I should have realized that you loved her. I think I have never understood love like that. I warned you quick enough not to love me didn’t I? I was a fool not to know that you would find someone else. I am glad she loves you, and that you are happy. I hope she will let me come and see her children and you when I am married and come to Wideacre.

  Your friend,

  Sarah.

  I paused then, and put my head in my hands for a long time. I was a slow writer and that muddle of thoughts had taken me an hour to spell out. I flushed with shame at the thought that Will might write very well for all I knew and he might think me ignorant and stupid not to be able to loop my letters and scrawl all over the page.

  But then I heard noon strike and my maid tapped on the door and I called for her to go away, that I would be down for breakfast in the instant. And then I laid my head on the paper on the writing table and groaned as if I was injured, knifed to the heart. I felt as sick as a horse and I could not think why. When I thought of the red weal on his cheek and him telling me of his Becky I wanted to throw up my accounts.

  I pulled a sheet of notepaper towards me and I knew I was down below the lies, well below the level of anger and pride. Below even the level of trying to be pleasant about his woman. I was down to where I belonged. Where I had always belonged. And down below that. For I was no longer Mamselle Meridon dancing on horseback who was cold as ice. Now I was no longer Meridon the slut horse-tamer who could make her da spit with rage. I was now someone whose name I did not know who was longing, longing, longing for someone to love. Longing for him.

  Dear Will,

  This is all wrong.

  Please do not promise any more to her. Please come back to London. I do not want to marry Perry. I want to be with you. I have loved you and wanted you from the moment I first saw you, that night at Wideacre. Please come for me at once. I beg your pardon for having struck you. You were right, it is no good here. It is hopeless with Perry.

  I am sure she is lovely, but I cannot believe you do not love me, and if you do not come for me now, I do not know what I will do. Please come to me. I love you with all my heart.

  Sarah.

  I took the six pages of notepaper and I screwed them up into a fat ball. I cast them in the fire and I held the poker and watched them burn. I mashed down the clot of embers so that there was nothing left. I turned my back on the fire, I turned my back on the writing desk.

  I could not be betrothed to one man and write like that to another. I could not break faith with Perry, I could not abandon Lady Clara without a word. They had treated me well, by their lights, I could not walk away from them as easily as I had walked in.

  I would have to wait, wait and plan. I would have to get free, honourably free, before I wrote to Will, before I thought of him again.

  I leaned my forehead against the cold thick glass of my window and looked at the grey sky and thought of Will riding home with the scarlet weal from my whip on his cheek. I had no right to strike him, I had no right to make a claim on him. The letters were burned, I would not write another. I would never write to Will. Not in anger, not in love. Our ways lay by different roads. Perhaps one day he would forgive me for the blow. Perhaps one day he would understand.

  I rang my bell for my maid to come and dress me in my morning dress.

  I could think of nothing else I could do.

  33

  I was ill, and it was that which made my eyes seem red and made me so dull at the luncheon.

  ‘You are cruel!’ lisped Sir Richard Fuller.

  I looked at him blankly.

  ‘Cruel to one who adores you!’ he said smiling. His lips were painted a delicate pink, he had a black patch in the shape of a heart at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Yes,’ I said stupidly. ‘I suppose I am.’

  He gave his ringing peal of laughter and a couple of old dowagers looked around at us, saw Sir Richard and smiled indulgently.

  ‘A Diana! A very Diana!’ he cried out.

  I shrugged. Half the time in this mannered social world I could not understand a word of what people said to me. The other half I understood well enough but I could not think why they troubled.

  ‘Do you think I have not seen the newspaper this morning?’ he asked teasingly. ‘I knew it was coming but oh! the blow to my hopes!’

  I stared at him again. We were seated in the window seat of the princess’s parlour, looking out towards the park. Will had been right about it being cold. The hoar frost was still white in the sheltered corners, a yellow sun was harsh in the sky.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.

  Sir Richard’s pale eyes danced with malice. ‘About my heartbreak, about my heartbreak!’ he said.

  I was no good at this kind of flirting. I sighed and went to get up and walk away from him.

  ‘I knew you were half promised, but I had no idea he would be so speedy,’ Sir Richard twinkled, putting out a hand to detain me. ‘Have his losses really been so bad?’

  ‘Perry?’ I said, coming through the maze of innuendo.

  ‘Of course!’ Sir Richard said limpidly. ‘Who else are you engaged to marry?’

  I looked at him blankly and said nothing.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised, Miss Lacey!’ he begged. ‘You are charming, charming. But I cannot believe that even Perry would post your engagement in the newspaper without consulting you!’

  I nodded. Perry was quite capable of it.

  ‘Which is why I ask!’ Sir Richard cried triumphantly. ‘What freak has Perry taken up now that he must run through your fortune as well as his own? We knew his losses at faro were staggering, but I hear now he is playing piquet like a fiend! And why, heartbreaking Miss Lacey, do you hand your fortune over so readily? Is it love? Do you tell me to abandon all hope?’

  I gritted my teeth and got to my feet. ‘You must excuse me, Sir Richard,’ I said politely. I held my embroidered silk morning gown to one side and dipped him a polite curtsey. ‘I see Lady Clara wants me, I must go.’

  I crossed over to the other side of the room and stood at Lady Clara’s elbow. She was playing whist with the princess and I waited until she had taken a trick before I interrupted her. I wished her son had half her skill at cards.

  ‘Perry’s put our engagement in the Morning Post,’ I said in her ear.

  Her face never changed. She should have worked as a gull sharper in the taverns. She was wasting her talents on rooking Quality spendthrifts like the princess.

  ‘I did not see,’ she said softly. ‘You don’t object, do you?’

  ‘He might have told me,’ I said. ‘I have had Sir Richard Fuller raking me over. I looked a fool.’

  Lady Clara nodded. ‘He should have told you indeed,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you warned me. There he is, speak to him yourself.’

  I glanced up. Perry was coming through the crowd of people who were standing near the door by the buffet table. As he came through with a smile and a word for many of them, he caught
my eye and he beamed at me and came to my side.

  ‘Sarah!’ he said. ‘I thought I’d find you here. Have you seen the newspaper this morning? We are in! Isn’t that nice! I gave them an extra guinea to get it in at once!’

  He kissed my hand, and then, at his mother’s nod, drew me closer and kissed my cheek gently. His touch was cool, my cheek was hot.

  ‘Why the hurry?’ I asked.

  He grinned roguishly. ‘Come now,’ he said. ‘You know that yourself. I was all out of credit at the start of this week and now they are falling over themselves to lend to me.’ He beamed. ‘And the cream of the jest is that I don’t need the money now!’

  I kept the false smile pinned on my face and I nodded as if he were telling me excellent news.

  ‘I’m finished with gaming anyway,’ he said. ‘We’ll marry as soon as the banns are called – in a fortnight – and then we’ll go down to the country and live like fat old squires. As you wish, Sarah. Just as you wish.’

  If half a dozen curious people had not been watching us I think I would have wept. I was so tired from my sleepless night and my throat was so tight. And the memory of Will riding from me in a rage, riding back to Becky and that safe little cottage made my head throb.

  ‘Good,’ I said. I would never live in a cottage with Will Tyacke. I would never love him as his Becky did. I would never lie in his arms at night. But I had learned how to love a man and some of that love I could give to Perry. We were young, we would find many good things to do together. And if we could farm the land well, and make Wideacre and Havering good places to live and work, we would have done something more than any squires or lords before us had ever done.