by Kirsty Ferry
‘Is there anybody you would rather spend your time with, Miss de Havilland?’ said Montgomery. Genevieve glared at him and a quizzical expression passed across his face. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Or perhaps I don’t see. Tell me, is he here tonight?’
‘As you say, Sir, sometimes we have to make difficult choices,’ answered Genevieve. ‘He apparently chose not to come tonight. If he was here, I would be spending my time with him rather than you.’
‘Ah, I feel that there is more to this story than meets the eye. Perhaps one day I shall find out why he isn’t here.’
‘Perhaps. Oh dear, that’s the music ending, how dreadful,’ she said as the final notes died away. ‘A round of applause for our musicians?’ She managed to release herself from his hold and turned to face the orchestra. She clapped politely, aware of her partner doing the same behind her.
‘I enjoyed that, Miss de Havilland,’ he said. ‘May I mark your card for another dance?’ Without waiting for an answer, he plucked the card that was tied at her wrist and studied it. He carefully pencilled his name next to a dance further down the list. Genevieve hated such formalities. Will would have just asked her outright. ‘Veva,’ he might have said, ‘would you?’ He was the only one who ever called her Veva. She would never allow anybody else to use that name.
‘Would you please excuse me?’ Genevieve said to Montgomery. ‘I shall no doubt see you later.’ In that moment, she swore to herself that she would go over to Hartside and drag Will out of his business meeting if he didn’t turn up. What did she care for propriety after all? Her brother rammed that trait down her throat constantly. She might as well prove him right. Montgomery half smiled. He bowed and stepped aside. Genevieve headed off across the dance floor, towards the French doors. The ballroom was stuffy and oppressive and she slipped behind the heavy curtains, easing the doors open. They led onto some steps which ran down into the garden, and the yellow light from the ballroom spilled out onto the white landscape before her. Keeping close to the house, she edged her way around the building until she reached the servants’ entrance and peeped inside. There was laughter and chattering coming from the kitchen and from the room with the scrubbed wooden table where the staff congregated for meals. Genevieve padded quietly in and reached out to a peg which hung behind the door. She unhooked a heavy, velvet cloak and wrapped it around herself. She took a deep breath of the frosty night air and, draping the train of her skirt over her arm, she began to hurry down the pathway into the walled garden. She lost her footing once or twice on the icy pathways, and headed towards the summer house. Reaching the summer house, she pushed the door open and waited a moment until her eyes adjusted.
The white, moonlit night filtered in through the leaded windows and highlighted a wrought iron picnic set, left in the summer house over the winter. An old chaise longue was there as well, the material frayed slightly at the sides and on the cushions. Genevieve knelt down by the fireplace and poked around until she found enough fuel to light the fire, then sat down on the chaise longue, folding herself inside the cloak and watching the flames lick the chimney. She would stay here as long as possible. And maybe go straight to Hartside afterwards. She sat back and imagined Will’s face if she turned up uninvited and demanded he left with her in front of the businessmen. Her mouth twisted slightly into a little smile. It would be cruel, but no less than he deserved. She became aware of the pencil from her dance card jangling against her wrist and she ripped the card off in disgust. She studied her wrist in the firelight. The bruises were starting to come through. The idiot; he hadn’t been as careful as usual. People might see those ones. He hadn’t thought it out. Perversely pleased that she had unintentionally scored a point against her brother, she smiled to herself. She briefly contemplated damaging her wrist a little more, just to make sure people noticed. She was on the verge of doing so, when a shadow passed the window of the summerhouse. It blotted out the moonlight for a moment and she looked up, assuming it was tree branches. She sighed. Bored of her wrist, or perhaps simply forgetting her intentions, she went back to contemplating the fire. She began to hum a little tune, slightly off-key, and pulled her cloak tighter around her body. She leaned forward to poke at the embers of the fire and the flames whooshed up again. The wood crackled, spitting sparks out and singeing her dress. She tutted and tried to brush the marks off. Then there was another noise – the noise of the door handle being tried, and then a scraping sound as the door began to open.
Genevieve grabbed the poker and watched the door. It creaked fully open and a figure stood in the doorway. The figure was dressed from head to foot in black; it appeared to be a man, swathed in a cape with a hat pulled down low over his brow. Genevieve’s grasp tightened.
‘Joseph!’ she said. ‘I swear to God, I will kill you if you touch me...’
The man laughed. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Put the poker down, Veva.’ He stepped into the summer house, the light from the fire picking out gold flecks in his dark eyes.
‘Will!’ Genevieve threw the poker down and it clattered onto the floor. She stood up. ‘What are you doing here? Why not be a man and come to the house? Are you scared of my brother?’ she laughed cynically. ‘Yes, I suppose you could be. It’s understandable, I suppose. How did you know I’d be here?’
‘So many questions,’ said Will. ‘Again. Why do you ask so many? But tonight the answer is simple. I wanted to see you, so I came. For your information, I did come to the house; I was hiding in the trees across the lawn. I saw you dancing.’ He frowned. ‘Who was it?’
‘A friend of my brother’s,’ replied Genevieve. Will said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate. She held his gaze. ‘He’s nobody important, don’t worry. Why didn’t you come inside, Will?’
‘I took a chance coming over here tonight anyway,’ said Will, taking the hat off and laying it on the table next to Genevieve’s discarded dance card. He picked up the card. ‘Oh, I say, Montgomery has a title. How nice. Anyway, darling, I might be mistaken,’ he said, ‘but wouldn’t you rather be in the house, enjoying the ball, than being out here in the cold?’ He The man nodded his head towards the house. ‘It seems as if they have a new dance starting. I can hear the music.’
Genevieve said nothing. She looked over Will’s shoulder in the direction of the house then spoke. ‘No. I think I’d rather be here actually.’ She looked at him again and a slow smile spread across her lips. ‘Having considered it, I quite like you in that outfit, Will Hartley.’ The meaning in her words was obvious. ‘But tell me, how did you escape from that business dinner?’
‘Quite easily,’ he said, ‘but let’s not talk about where I should be. Let’s talk about you. In fact, I’ve made a decision. I don’t think you should go back yet either.’ He took her hand and raised it up to his lips. ‘If I should delay you here, who else will be disappointed tonight? Apart from our friend Montgomery?’
‘Nobody,’ said Genevieve. She felt her cheeks grow warm as Will studied her face. She tried to control her breathing as he stood up, still holding her hand.
‘I don’t think I particularly like Montgomery,’ he said. ‘Why should he have you tonight?’ He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, ‘I wouldn’t want you to rush off to be with him.’ Will stood upright and used his free hand to scoop her hair away from the side of her face. She reached up and covered his hand with hers, looking straight into his eyes. He traced the line of her face with his fingers and dropped his hand from the side of her face. He cupped her chin. Genevieve caught her breath. ‘Ahhh, but not yet,’ he said. ‘It’s wrong for you to miss out on the dancing.’ He bowed low and held his hand out to her. ‘Will you dance with me tonight?’
He took hold of Genevieve around the waist and pulled her close to him. The material of his cloak was scratchy against her face and he smelled of frost and ice and outdoors. Genevieve did not resist. She closed her eyes and began moving with him to the faint music that spilled out from the Hall. When the music fell silent, Will pulled her closer to
him. Genevieve found his lips on hers and, almost instinctively, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to him.
***
Afterwards, they lay on the chaise longue, covered by the cloaks. The fire had burned down to the embers, all warmth dissipating with the flames. Genevieve sat up in the freezing room and pulled the cloak closer to her.
‘Are you still going away tomorrow?’ she asked Will. ‘Are you still leaving me?’
‘It won’t be too long before I’m back,’ he said. He touched his hand to her face. ‘But I didn’t want to leave without seeing you tonight.’
‘So you’re doing what they want.’ she stated.
Will didn’t reply. Instead, he sat up and fumbled for his shirt. ‘I don’t have a choice,’ he said.
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No. I can’t take the chance of Joseph finding out about us again. If I stay, he could make things even more difficult for you.’
‘I can look after myself,’ protested Genevieve. ‘I can make things difficult for him. And for you.’
‘Joseph is dangerous, Veva,’ said Will, ‘we both know that.’ Genevieve unconsciously looked down at her wrist and rubbed it. Will followed her glance. ‘What was that for?’
‘I didn’t want to go to the ball,’ she replied. ‘It’s nothing.’
Will picked up her hand and kissed her wrist. ‘I wish I could take you with me,’ he said.
‘You could if you wanted to,’ she replied, watching him get dressed.
‘Maybe another time. Let me get this trip out of the way first,’ he said. ‘So, until we meet again,’ he touched her face one last time and dropped a kiss on her cheek, ‘goodbye, Veva.’ He turned away, slipping through the door and disappearing into the gardens. Genevieve remained under the cloak, watching the door shut. She reached around to the back of her head and unclasped a diamond-encrusted comb. She swept her hair back from her face trying to tidy it up and fixed the comb back in. She pulled her gown towards her and, shivering, she eased herself back into it, never taking her eyes off the door. Was that it then? Had he really gone? She felt numb. She hadn’t felt like that last time. Last time, he had told her that he loved her.
***
Genevieve damped down what was left of the fire and the ashes smouldered in the grate. She left the summer house, closing the door behind her. She gathered the cloak around her and wound her way back through the gardens towards the Hall. Her satin slippers were ruined, soaking wet and covered in grey slush. She couldn’t feel her toes. The door to the servants’ quarters was as she had left it and she took off the cloak and threw it back in the room. Someone was bound to find it and hang it up. She retraced her steps around the side of the house and tried to smooth her hair back, then she straightened her shoulders and pushed the French doors open. She squeezed through the gap and stepped back into the ballroom, feeling the colour flood her cheeks with the warmth of the room. Genevieve looked around at the hustle and bustle, so different from the peace and quiet in the summer house. Guests were talking and laughing, pushing through the various knots of people to reach the refreshments table or to sit on a chair at the side of the room. The smell of so many candles mingled with the ladies’ perfume made her feel sick.
‘Where have you been?’ asked Joseph, appearing beside her. The man missed nothing. His eyes raked over her, searching, it seemed, for some evidence of a misdemeanour.
‘I needed some air,’ Genevieve said.
‘Air?’ said Joseph. ‘Don’t lie to me. Where is he? What were you doing with him? Or need I ask?’
‘So many questions,’ replied Genevieve, almost mechanically. She looked around the ballroom and spotted Montgomery, standing alone. He turned to see her watching him and smiled, raising a glass to her. Joseph took a step towards her, his face twisted in disgust. Over his shoulder, Genevieve saw Montgomery place his glass on a table began to walk across to them.
‘Excuse me, dear brother,’ Genevieve said. ‘I believe this dance is marked on my card. I would hate to disappoint your friend.’ She moved away from Joseph, and began to walk towards Montgomery. She had understood that look on Joseph’s face all too well.
‘Miss de Havilland.’ Sir Montgomery bowed as she approached him. ‘Is it time for our dance? I do hope so.’ He took her hand and lifted it to see the dance card. Too late, she realised she had left the card in the summer house. And too late, he had seen the circlet of darkening bruises around her wrist. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and she tried to snatch her hand away. Montgomery held onto it, his eyes burning into hers. Genevieve stole a glance at her brother who was watching them, his face thunderous. The corners of her lips twitched into a harsh little smile. So, somebody here had noticed as well. Her half-smile was enough for Montgomery to realise what had happened and he let her hand drop.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘It’s very noisy, isn’t it? I could do with a change of scenery and some peace and quiet. Where do you recommend?’
‘Anywhere but here,’ replied Genevieve.
Montgomery bowed slightly and offered his arm. ‘Then shall we leave?’ he asked.
***
Genevieve tolerated him until they reached the library. Then she threw his hand off her and began to pace around the room.
‘I hate being touched,’ she muttered. ‘It’s like him doing it all over again. So, you can go now.’
She was aware of Montgomery moving over to the fireplace and watching her. She didn’t care. She was remembering Will, realising suddenly that he had left her with barely a backwards glance. If she allowed herself to process the thought thoroughly, she would feel cheapened. Instead, it was nice to recall, with perfect clarity how his hand had felt on her waist and how her skin had tingled as all the nerve endings leapt into life...
‘You don’t make things easy for me, Miss de Havilland,’ Montgomery said, interrupting her tangled thoughts.
Genevieve’s head snapped around and she stared at him. She focussed on him, wondering for half a second what he was doing with her in the summer house. Then her mind cleared. ‘In what way?’ she asked.
‘I’m just intrigued. Is there something you wish to tell me? Maybe I can help.’
Genevieve brightened. ‘Could you perhaps, erase my family from my life?’ She laughed. ‘Yes. Actually, I think that might solve all my problems.’ She looked down at her wrist and moved over to Montgomery. She lifted her hand up to his eye-level. ‘You saw this. You know what happens here,’ she said. ‘But this is nothing. Believe me.’ She began to pull out her hair combs and clips one by one, letting her hair fall in a dark curtain down over her shoulders. She had no intention of going back into that ballroom tonight. ‘Make my apologies for me. Tell them I have a headache,’ she said.
‘If that is what you wish,’ said Montgomery. ‘May I?’ he came closer to her and raised his hand. She flinched. ‘I’m sorry – I just want to help,’ he said. ‘I’m not your brother.’ She felt a pull as a clip was taken out of the back of her hair. Montgomery bowed and presented her with it.
She paused for a moment, then took it from him. ‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘Joseph is normally much more discreet.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Montgomery said.
‘Thank you,’ said Genevieve, gathering her combs together and flinging them into the fire, ‘but it is. You see, it’s all my fault. Joseph keeps telling me that.’ She turned and glided out of the library, the soft rustle of her dress soothing against the cracking and spitting of the flames in the old fireplace. Halfway up the stairs, her mind went blank. She paused and smoothed her dress down, wondering why it had such burn holes in it. Not to worry. It wasn’t as if she was wearing it for a special occasion.
***
Once she had reached the top of the stairs, Genevieve hurried along the corridor towards her room. She pushed the door open and it slammed shut behind her. She pressed her weight against it, locking it securely with the big iron key. She left the key in the lock. She’d already learned to do that
. Not stopping to remove her dress, she threw herself onto the bed. She thought again about Will and the fact that he was leaving her. What if that evening in the summer house had actually been their last? What if she waited for him and he never came back at all?
Someone began hammering on her door and shouting through the keyhole. She pulled a pillow over her head and muffled everything out. She knew that eventually she would fall asleep. She always did.
1885
Genevieve woke up with a start, the shouting and noise staying with her. She was still lying on the top of her bed, in her ballgown, although the dress was crumpled and spoilt now. Then she realised the shouting and commotion wasn’t in her dream. It was actually happening in the corridor beyond her room. She crawled off the bed and padded over to the door. She crouched down and placed her ear to the door, trying to make out the shouts that seemed to echo around the first floor.
‘She needs to be taught a lesson. Give me the key.’ That was her brother.
‘Damn him!’ she muttered. What had she supposedly done now?
‘Joseph! Be careful. Remember what happened last time!’ That was her mother.
‘I don’t care. She’s brought it all on herself. I should have broken the door down last night – she’s lucky I didn’t. She just walked out! I’ll kill her!’
Genevieve stood up. She felt a thump on the door, followed by another thump and the mad rattling of the handle. Her heart beat faster and for the first time she felt scared. She knew what he was capable of. He had had a whole night to fester about whatever it was. She looked down at her dress and the memories flooded back. She felt slightly sick. Yes – there had been the ball, hadn’t there? Oh, God. She’d left it, hadn’t she? And Joseph wasn’t going to wait any longer to punish her, that was for sure. She looked around her room. The only safe way out was through the window. She checked that the key was still in the lock and hurried over to her dressing table. She rifled through the drawers, grabbing a couple of things. She pulled a hooded cape out of her wardrobe and fastened it around herself. She pinned her hair up loosely and threw open the window. The cold air made her catch her breath and she leaned out to see if anybody was circling the gardens below. She would put nothing past her brother.