by Amanda Scott
“Not at school, he didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure he did, even there. He had acquired the knack of it by then, you see. He simply expects others to shield him when he misbehaves, and they do so. He makes friends easily, you know, and he makes them feel needed. It is not altogether a bad feeling,” she added.
He was silent for a moment, but then he said, “What other things?” When she looked bewildered, he added, “You said you began to see other things more clearly, too. What things?”
She swallowed. The words were not easy to say. “They don’t need me anymore. You were right. Charlie’s got Clarissa, and Brandon only takes what I give as though it’s his due, and Mally’s grown up, and … and …” She fought tears.
“And your father?” he asked gently, looking hopeful for the first time. “He hasn’t changed.”
She caught her breath on a small sob. “No, and he never will, will he?”
“I don’t think so, Syb,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking down into her eyes. “Why do you need to go back at all? Stay here. Let him fend for himself. If you put the same energy into our marriage that you put into looking after your family, only think what may come of it.”
“But I don’t know that anything will come of it,” she said sadly. “Don’t you see, Ned? I am the way I am, and you are you, and I don’t know that we can live together without …” She took a deep breath and said on a firmer note, “Although we have got on well enough this past week, we have no reason to believe that we can continue in that fashion now that I am well. And I cannot simply abandon Mrs. Hammersmyth. She is perfectly capable of running the household by herself, of course, but she has got used to depending upon me whenever Papa becomes particularly difficult.” She smiled, watching him, glad that he had not yet attempted to argue with her. “Remember when he sacked all the servants only because his valet had annoyed him? Or the time he frightened that housemaid half to death when she got into his room by mistake, through being new to the house? I promise you, Ned, if I had not attended to those matters, Mrs. Hammersmyth would not have been able to do so alone. Indeed, she might very likely have left, and then what would we have done?”
“We?” He shook his head. “No, not ‘we,’ sweetheart. You were always the one, but don’t think I blame you for that any longer. I never wanted anything to do with your father’s crazy household, or with your brothers or sister. I only wanted one thing your father had, and I very nearly lost her because I didn’t try to understand her. I saw only a woman who wanted always to hold the reins, everyone’s, including mine, which is a thing I cannot tolerate. I am a sorry excuse for a husband, but I would like to change. Do you think there is any hope for us?”
“Not if we both continue to fight for control of those reins,” she said, smiling ruefully, “and I don’t think I shall ever be much good at bowing dutifully to your every decision.”
“Perhaps then, we ought to discover if we can work out some sort of a partnership,” he suggested.
Hope filled her heart like a freshening wind as she said, “Do you think we can, Ned? I should like very much to try, but what do you mean for us to do?”
“We will catch Fanny out together,” he said. “You will write your apology, much as it grates upon me to allow you to do such a thing, and you will extend your invitation, informing her that you are leaving for Bath at once. She won’t accept, do what you will, but it will put the notion of Bath into her head. Then you must trust me to do the rest. Can you do that?”
“I will try,” she said. “I know you will do what you must, but it will be hard not knowing what is happening here.”
“I foresee only one obstacle, and that is my delightful mama. She will not like being left out, once she learns of our plot, as she must, since the request will be sent to her.”
“But what choice will she have but to remain here where Fanny can write to her?” Sybilla demanded.
“She has already mentioned going to Bath,” he said, “to see some amateur Romeo. But that may serve our purpose well enough. Only consider how long it will take me to reach Bath if I wait here until Mama has Fanny’s letter. And if I go when Fanny goes, we would have to depend upon Mama’s letter of warning reaching us in time to catch Fanny when she attempts to collect her money.”
“Do you really think she will refuse an invitation to stay in Royal Crescent? Most persons are very curious about Papa. Perhaps I could even offer to let her meet him.”
He grinned at her. “Even with such an inducement as that, I doubt she will believe your sincerity for one minute, and you mustn’t make that last offer anyway, because I mean to encourage her to think that I forced you to write your affecting little note to her. Moreover, I think I shall allow her to surmise that I ordered my erring wife back to Bath. She will then think your invitation entirely spurious, and if she does accept it, it will be precisely because she thinks you don’t want her there.”
Sybilla grimaced. “I do not think I like the idea of letting her think you ordered me home. Could you not say instead that I chose departure over murder?”
He chuckled. “Mine or hers?”
“I shall have to think about that.”
He smiled provocatively. “Shall we go upstairs and discuss the matter at somewhat greater length?”
She had no trouble recognizing the look in his eyes, but she was surprised at how quickly her body responded to it. A sweet, sensual ache of desire, beginning low in her body, grew and spread until it threatened to overwhelm her. When his hands, still resting on her shoulders, tightened, she found herself pressing against them, leaning toward him, her face tilted up toward him, inviting his kiss.
Ned didn’t need a second invitation. Gathering her into his arms, he bent his head to hers.
A moment later, breathless, she smiled at him. “I think we had better go upstairs, don’t you? One of the footmen will come in here soon to put out the lights.”
He gave her a long look. “If we do what I want to do, I might not let you leave London after all, sweetheart. Are you sure about going upstairs?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
The interlude that followed reminded Sybilla how much she enjoyed being dominated in bed, but it stirred her doubts again, making her wonder if their marriage would ever be a happy one. He had told her to trust him, but the telling was easier than the doing. Moreover, she remembered that he had said nothing about trusting her. She fell asleep hearing his deep breathing beside her, glad he was there, wishing he could satisfy the questions in her heart as easily as he satisfied her physical needs.
Since she was not in the habit of traveling on Sundays, she was not able to leave London for two more days, but she did send the apology to Fanny, including a carefully worded, seemingly half-hearted invitation to visit, and received not so much as a cool acknowledgment in reply. She told Ned she was disappointed to discover that he had such poor taste in women as to have chosen one with no manners whatever. His reply made her cover her ears in pretended shock.
He refused to tell her precisely what he intended to do to encourage Fanny to visit Bath, saying once again that she must trust him and leading her thus to believe that he had no idea yet himself, but he had been entirely accurate in his estimation of his mother’s reaction to the news that although they knew who had written the letters, Sybilla was returning to Royal Crescent. Lady Axbridge presented herself in person in Park Lane on Sunday afternoon to divulge to them both that she had formed the happy notion of accompanying Sybilla to Bath.
“And you need not think to fob me off with nonsensical reasons why I should not,” she said, “for Axbridge reads my letters when we are in town, so you must see that I cannot stay. At home he pays no heed to the post, but here, he examines every single item, just as though he suspects me of having a lover! I only wish I had one,” she added wistfully. “ ’Twould be amusing, I think. But he will not object if I say I am to visit Lucretia, for he knows she invited me, and if he does ob
ject, I have only to tell her and she will raise such a dust that he will not like it at all. So pray do not say I may not come!”
“Of course, you must come,” Sybilla assured her. “Ned was persuaded from the outset that you would wish to do so and that it would answer very well. Were you not, sir?”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Your going will prevent my dear wife from inviting that fribble, Saint-Denis, from driving with her on the Bath Road again.”
“As a matter of fact,” Sybilla said sweetly, “Sydney means to leave London, too, and while I quite see that your mama will not wish to take the phaeton, surely you will want us to have a gentleman escort. Or do you not trust me, Ned?”
He grinned at her and shrugged. Then, turning to his mother, he said, “He truly reads your letters, Mama?”
“Truly,” his mother assured him. “He says it is his duty and demands to know what I think anyone will write to me that he cannot read. And to be sure, I cannot think of anything,” she added with an air of disappointment.
Sybilla said, “We must be certain then that Ned makes it clear to Fanny that she must on no account write to you at Axbridge House. But with both of us in Bath, she will have no choice but to follow us there, if only Ned can make her believe she needs more money. I am very much afraid that it will all come to naught, that she will simply stop writing the letters.”
The marchioness shook her head. “I doubt that will be the case,” she said. “I do not know her well, of course, but from what I have heard, she has a great deal of confidence in her own cleverness. She will not suspect that we know, after all, so all Ned has to do is to see to it that she has cause to try again. He is easily as clever as she is, don’t you think?”
At that moment it was easy for Sybilla to agree that he was, but by the following morning, when she and the marchioness had been tacked into the carriage and Ramsbury stood on the flagway waiting only till Sydney joined them to see them off, the old doubts assailed her again. Would he truly allow her to have a part in Lady Mandeville’s downfall, or had he said so merely to get her safely out of town? They had not discussed the small matter of how Fanny would think she could fool the marchioness into paying the money to her instead of simply giving it to Sybilla, or the difficulty she would have in keeping Sybilla from running into the marchioness either before the money had been paid or directly afterward. When Sybilla had suggested that certain problems would arise, Ramsbury had said only that they must leave those difficulties to Fanny to solve, that if it looked too easy, even someone as confident of herself as she was would suspect a trap.
Traveling with the marchioness meant traveling with all the pomp and splendor due to her position, including a separate coach for her lofty dresser and Medlicott, and their progress was necessarily slower than it had been in the phaeton. After spending the night at Reading, they arrived in Bath the following afternoon and went directly to the Royal Crescent so that the marchioness might keep her chaise.
When they arrived at the doorstep, Sybilla suggested that her companions come inside long enough to refresh themselves before going on, but to her astonishment, no one came out to assist them. Nor did anyone answer the front door when the marchioness’s footman ran up to knock.
Sybilla used her key at last, and the moment she pushed open the front door, her ears were assailed by an unholy din that seemed to have its origin at the top of the stair hall. She could see Robert standing halfway up the first flight, evidently mesmerized by whatever was happening above. When she shouted his name, he turned at once and came pelting down the steps, fairly skidding to a halt before her.
“Oh, my lady, thank the good Lord that you are here! The old gentleman’s fair gone off his hooks this time!”
“Papa? What’s amiss here, Robert?”
“He’s shouting at her ladyship. Says he’ll sack the lot of us—again. You’d best go up at once, ma’am. Mrs. Hammersmyth’s had the vapors and don’t no one else know what to do.”
Sybilla experienced a sudden desire to be whisked back to London on the nearest breeze, but she stilled the thought and said with as much calm as she could muster, “Her ladyship, Robert? What ladyship?”
“Lady Lucretia Calverton. She’s up there now, a-shouting at ’im, with him a-bellowing back as ’ow ’e won’t ’ave servants in the ’ouse who can’t keep the likes of ’er out o’ ’is hair.”
“Oh, my heaven,” exclaimed the marchioness, who had entered the house with Sydney on Sybilla’s heels. “Here’s a fine to-do, I must say. What business has Lucretia—No, I won’t ask that. ’Twas a stupid thought. Lucretia makes everything her business sooner or later, does she not?”
Sybilla grimaced. “She has certainly made Ned and me her business, particularly since I came back to Bath, but if she has distressed Papa … Will you excuse me, ma’am? Robert, show Lady Axbridge and Mr. Saint-Denis to the drawing room and take them a pot of tea and some biscuits or fruit. I will deal with Lady Lucretia.”
“Never mind us,” the marchioness said firmly. “Mr. Saint-Denis will see me home at once.”
“I will see to this and send Lady Lucretia along to Camden Place to join you just as soon as I may.”
She had done her best to sound confident and authoritative, but as she mounted the stairs, she found herself wishing that she could simply leave the two of them to fight it out between them. Then, she began to wonder how they could keep it up, for she could hear both voices at the same time, carrying on as though neither paused for breath, let alone to listen to anything the other said. Not until she reached the last flight was she able to make out any words. Then it was Lady Lucretia, whose higher-pitched voice carried the greater distance.
“You are a selfish old man!” she shouted clearly.
“Get out!” he shrieked in reply. “Get out! Get out! I don’t want you here.”
“I don’t care what you want,” she cried, as he continued to repeat himself. “I shan’t allow you to ruin their lives!”
Sybilla reached her father’s study at last and found, not to her surprise, that the door was wide open. Not a servant was in sight, though she had no doubt that several were within earshot. As she stepped into the room, Sir Mortimer picked up a heavy volume from his desk and heaved it at Lady Lucretia, who merely stepped aside and let it crash to the floor.
“Father!” Sybilla exclaimed, startling the pair of them.
He turned on her. “So you’re back, are you? And not before time, either. Get this old harridan out of my sight.”
“Old harridan, am I?” Lady Lucretia’s massive bosom heaved indignantly. “Just because I served you with a few home truths, Mortimer Manningford, you needn’t think you—”
“Get out!” he shrieked again.
Without ceremony, Sybilla grabbed Lady Lucretia by the arm and pulled her toward the door. “Come, ma’am, you will serve no good purpose by remaining. He will not listen.” Pushing her into the corridor, she turned back to her father, whose choleric outrage had not diminished in the slightest. Coolly, Sybilla said, “We will leave you now, sir, but do not be thinking that I will dismiss a single servant over this incident. You would be very uncomfortable with all new people to look after you.”
“This is your fault,” he said scathingly. “Where have you been, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
“With my husband,” she answered shortly.
“Ha! I wish I may see the day.”
“Do you, sir? Then you may shortly get your wish,” she retorted, shutting the door with a decided snap.
Lady Lucretia still stood where she had left her and was watching her with a rueful twinkle in her eyes. “I couldn’t help myself,” she said when Sybilla only folded her lips tightly together and looked at her. “Jane wrote Saturday to tell me she was coming and said that that despite everything, she couldn’t be certain that you and Ramsbury were going to patch things up between you. I just flew into a rage, because I know that the blame for most of your troubles may be set at Mortimer’s door. So I
came straight over to tell him what I thought of him. I suppose I have only made matters worse for you, my dear.”
Sybilla didn’t know whether the fact that things were worse could be blamed on Lady Lucretia, but she soon realized that she was not at all happy to be back in Royal Crescent. Although Sir Mortimer said nothing more about dismissing the servants and the days fell into a normal pattern, she could not be content simply to await events. She heard nothing from Ramsbury, and she missed him. When nearly a week had passed and she suggested casually to Lady Axbridge that they ought to have had word from him, the marchioness said only that he was no great hand at letter writing and no doubt they would hear soon enough.
“After all, my dear, we have heard nothing whatever about Fanny Mandeville, and until she is forced to make a new request, we cannot expect to hear from dearest Edmond.”
Sybilla disagreed. She thought that in view of everything that had happened in London before she left, the sooner she heard from dearest Edmond, with a clear and detailed account of his activities since her departure, the better it would be for him.
XIV
ANOTHER FULL WEEK PASSED before Sybilla learned anything new, and in that time her depression deepened, not only because the weather had taken another turn for the worse, with heavy rains falling almost daily, but because she could not seem to stop thinking about Ned. She missed him and found herself wondering continually about what he was doing. She had attempted to write to him twice, but both times the letters had reflected her depression and her need for him, and she had not sent them.
Her father’s behavior had made it clear to her that she could not simply leave Royal Crescent and let the inhabitants sink or swim on their own. She had a duty to the others, if not to Sir Mortimer. Though she knew it was not necessary for her to stay in Bath permanently, there would still be frequent visits, for like it or not, she could not simply let go of her responsibilities there. If Ramsbury could not see that, there was no hope for their new partnership.