by Anna Gracie
dear." And, slipping her arm through Magnus's, she led him away to
join the throng.
Tallie watched with dismay, then recalled it was not comme il faut for
a wife to dwell in her husband's pocket. She didn't wish to embarrass
him, particularly on this, their first social engagement as a married
couple. She turned to smile at Lord Jasper.
"Champagne, Lady d'Arenville?" he said, and without wait's Knighting
for her reply he beckoned a footman over and handed her a glass.
"That'll do the trick, my dear. Now, who do you wish to meet? Anyone
you know?"
Tallie shook her head.
"Ah, well," said Lord Jasper and shepherded her over to a | small knot
of people. He quickly introduced her and a moment later left. Tallie
gripped her glass and did her best to join in the conversation, much of
which concerned people she didn't know and places she hadn't been to.
It was very difficult when one had spent most of one's life in Miss
Fisher's, where pupils had been expected to be silent except when
laboriously practising conversazione once a month over weak tea and
stale cakes. Miss Fisher's conversazione had been nothing like this.
It seemed an age before dinner was finally announced. Tallie was
heartily glad of it--Magnus would come to take her in to dinner and she
could relax for a time. And besides, she was ravenously hungry.
Tallie dipped her spoon in the lemon sorbet and tried not to stare down
the long table to where her husband was sitting. With Lady Pamela.
Talking and smiling and showing every sign of enjoying himself.
Sighing, she turned her head and shouted once more at her neighbour. He
was an elderly general, and deaf as a post. His deafness, however, did
not prevent him from firing question after question at her, obliging
her to shout responses into his ear trumpet.
She glanced at her other neighbour, a tall, thin, depressed-looking
Polish man, who spoke no English, very bad French and had the
appetite--and the table manners--of a starved gannet. His dinner was
the only company he required.
On the other side of the table a lively middle-aged Frenchwoman flirted
light-heartedly with her neighbours. She caught Tallie's eye several
times and smiled in a friendly fashion. Tallie smiled back shyly,
wishing it was possible to join in, but it would be dreadfully bad
manners if she tried to talk across the table. No, she was stuck with
the General and the Gannet.
She glanced up to the head of the table. Lady Pamela had her hand on
Magnus's sleeve, whispering in his ear. Tallie sighed, and shouted
once more into the general's ear trumpet.
At long last the ladies retired, to leave the gentlemen to their port,
but by that time Tallie's throat was quite sore from all her
shouting.
In any case, almost nobody spoke to her. The friendly Frenchwoman had
left early and everybody else seemed to have known each other almost
from the cradle.
She might as well be a Hottentot for all she had in common with these
people, she thought, sipping her tea. Lady Pamela was just like
Laetitia--all she did was talk about people who weren't there, and the
nastier the story the more everybody laughed. Tallie sat with a teacup
on her lap and smiled and tried to look interested and smiled some
more, feeling as if her jaw would crack if she had to go on smiling
much longer.
The Hottentot princess sat chained to the chair of the foreign
invaders. She was hostage for the good behaviour of her husband, the
Prince of all the Hottentots, but her spirit was not daunted and she
did not feel betrayed by her husband's absence. These were her
enemies, these foolish, arrogant people who spoke so freely in front of
her. The Hottentot princess smiled at her enemies, but it was the
smile of a sleeping tiger. Little did they realise she understood
every word they said.
Very soon her dashing husband would come to rescue her.
"Tallie, my dearest love," he would say.
"Let me rescue you from these evil ones whose tongues wag like
chattering monkeys. You mean more to me than any kingdom or throne. I
will take you to a place far away from here, where we can be alone."
The beautiful grey eyes of the Prince of all the Hottentots would
darken, and he would bend and add, in that wonderfully deep voice which
never failed to send shivers of delight through her, "And then, my
beloved Tallie, we will make love all night long, and again in the
morning, too..."
But at the end of a very long evening, Magnus brought her home, wished
her goodnight, perfectly politely, and went to his own chamber.
Miserably, Tallie curled up into a small huddle in the middle of the
large bed. It had become plain during the course of the evening that
Magnus was angry with her. She had displeased him in some way. Some
dreadfully significant way. Several times during the evening she had
caught him staring at her, and the expression in his eyes had sent an
icy chill down her spine.
It was if she had betrayed him in some way. almost as if he hated her.
Tallie had obviously failed him. but she could not imagine how.
True, she hadn't been very successful at the dinner, but she had tried.
and he knew she'd mixed little in society. And besides, he'd been cold
and distant to her before that.
But how could a man spend all night making passionate, tender love to
his wife, and in the morning kiss her and call her sweetheart, and then
return in the afternoon acting as if she had tried to destroy him?
When all she had done was love him?
Over and over in her brain, Tallie's thoughts churned, until she felt
quite sick with misery.
The next day, when she awoke, Monique brought her the news that her
husband had gone to stay with friends near Versailles. He would return
in a week. Or two.
The first night Magnus was away Tallie cried herself to sleep. She had
visited an art gallery during the day. The second night he was away
she cried herself to sleep again. But during the day she had attended
an outdoor puppet show, and gone for a promenade with Monique and
Claude in the park. She might be unhappy, and upset with her husband,
but she didn't want the world to know it.
The next morning Tallie had a visitor: the French lady she'd seen at
Lady Pamela's--Madame Girodoux. Tallie was feeling utterly
blue-devilled, but didn't have the heart to say she was not at home.
Besides, she was lonely. Company might cheer her up.
Madame Girodoux swept into the room. She was a widow in her forties,
very thin, very fashionable and very sophisticated, but there was
kindness in her narrow, sloe-dark eyes. She seated herself beside
Tallie on the chaise longue and chatted for a short time, but in the
middle of a story she suddenly broke off, took Tallie's hand in hers
and said, "You must forgive my forwardness, my dear, but I was an
unhappy young bride once, and I recognise the symptoms."
At her words Tallie burst into tears.
"Now, cherie," said Madame Girodou
x some time later, 'it seems to me as
though your young man 'as bitten off more than 'e can chew. "
Tallie blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"It was a manage de convenance, nest-ce-pas? Tallie nodded.
"But you 'ave fallen in love, oui? Tallie nodded again. Madame
Girodoux smiled.
"I think per'aps you are not the only one."
Tallie blinked again.
"I have noticed your us band watching you--it is not the look of a man
who is indifferent."
"No, he... I think he dislikes--' " Nonsense! I have 'card of your us
band before this. They call him The Icicle, non? Tallie nodded.
"Well, I see no ice in 'im when 'e looks at you, my dear. I see
fire."
"Fire?"
"Oui. Fire, to be sure. Absolument. And when ice meets fire,
something must crack--and it is not the fire, believe me. Your usband
is afraid, but 'e will return and the ice will disappear." She patted
Tallie's hand.
"E will not be able to stay away from you for long, petite--'e will be
back soon. That will make you 'appy, non? She eyed Tallie shrewdly.
"Your bed is lonely, non?
Tallie felt a fiery blush flood her face.
Madame Girodoux chuckled.
"Yes, I thought so. The bed has a way of melting ice. May I give you
some advice? I 'ave been married twice, you know, both times very
'appily-though the first one started badly."
Tallie nodded, a little embarrassed at the other woman's frankness, but
eager to hear her advice.
"No doubt when your usband returns you will be ready to do anything to
please him. Per'aps entice 'im to your bed again."
Tallie blushed rosily once more.
Madame Girodoux chuckled.
"No shame in that, cherie, but women need to use their brains as well
as their bodies when it comes to marriage. It does an usband no harm
to be kept a little uncertain at times--remember that when your man
comes back to you. Men respond to the uncertainty of the chase."
Tallie blinked. Magnus was not chasing her--on the contrary; he was
running away. But she nodded, pretending to understand.
Madame Girodoux stood up.
"Now, my dear, run upstairs and wash your face. My nephew, Fabrice,
will be 'ere in thirty minutes to take us to a concert. When your us
band returns to Paris you will not wish him to know you 'ave been
pining for 'im. I 'ave many social engagements planned for you--and it
will do you good to go about more in society, nonV Tallie's head was
spinning, but she knew a lifeline when she saw it.
She blinked back tears.
"You have been so very kind to me, madame, and I am no one--a stranger.
How can I thank-?"
"Ah, non." Madame Girodoux brushed Tallie's thanks aside gruffly.
"We are all strangers at first-- oui-but 'ow else can we make new
friends, eh? Now, run upstairs, child, and wash your face. Fabrice
will be here any moment."
True to her word, Madame Girodoux arranged all of Tallie's
entertainment over the next ten days. With the willing escort of her
nephew Fabrice, an elegant young fop, she showed Tallie a new side of
Paris. Tallie made morning calls, attended concerts, routs and
soirees. She still missed Magnus desperately, still felt as though she
had failed him in some indefinable way, but now, with Madame Girodoux's
assistance, she was learning to cope with the public aspects of her new
life, at least.
But after a week had passed without a single word from Magnus, Tallie
had begun to feel aggrieved. It was not right that he had left her to
sink or swim in a foreign city. He was careless and thoughtless and
cold-hearted. Obviously their night of passion meant absolutely
nothing to him. The most wonderful night of her entire life and the
very next day he'd gone off to some horrid hunting lodge. He didn't
even seem to care whether she loved him or not, for how could he
abandon her like this if he did?
And the worst thing was she still loved him--cold-hearted Icicle that
he was!
Chapter Eleven
Twe days later, in the evening, Magnus returned. Tallie was in the
hall, about to leave for a concert. Mindful of Madame Girodoux's
advice, Tallie greeted him coolly. He responded with equal politeness,
quite as if he'd been away for an hour or two instead of abandoning her
for days on end. He offered no word of explanation for his absence.
That omission gave Tallie the courage she needed. She wished him a
polite "Good evening," and sailed out of the hotel to attend the
concert.
Stunned, furious, Magnus watched her blithely step into a strange
carriage. He'd spent the last two weeks missing her, fighting his
desire to return to Paris immediately and take her straight to bed.
He'd told himself he could handle it, handle her, that he would not
fall in thrall to her like his father had to his mother. He'd kept
himself busy during the day, riding, hunting, playing cards and
drinking. But at night all he'd been able to think of was the sweet,
loving way she'd responded to his caresses, and her words--I love you,
Magnus.
The abyss had beckoned blackly. But the craving to hear those words
again had grown within him until he'd been well- nigh unable to think
of anything else, and so, with distracted words of thanks and farewell
to his hosts, he'd ridden back, all the way to Paris, imagining her
falling into his arms the mo menthe walked in the door.
He'd pictured it a thousand times, her start of surprise, pleasure and welcome. He would carefully remove his hat and coat, careful
not to show her how much power she had over him. She would be waiting
anxiously, that sweet look of anticipation and desire in her clear
amber eyes, her tender body swaying gently towards him. He'd force
himself to wait. and dinner would be spiced with anticipation and desire.
And at the end of dinner she would look at him, that wideeyed look
which never failed to move him, and he would wait no more. He would
lay his table napkin down, push back his chair, walk around the table
and hold out his hand. She would place her small, trembling hand in
his and he'd raise her to her feet and escort her to his bedchamber.
And then. Instead, damn it, she'd greeted him politely, chatted for
five minutes about how busy she had been while he was away and gone out
to a concert with some damned French female! And an elegant blasted French fop!
"Where the devil have you been, madam?" demanded Magnus as he followed
her into the breakfast parlour next morning.
"And who was that puppy who handed you out of his carriage just now?"
It was the same fellow who'd escorted her last night. The fellow who'd
be dead by now had Magnus not heard her return the previous night at
about eleven. He'd also heard her lock her door, which had infuriated
him, but he'd decided to deal with that in the morning. But when he'd
awoken this morning, and found a spare key, he'd entered her chamber
only to find her gone. And his rage had grown.
Tallie pulled up short at his accusatory tone. Where the
devil had she
been? Madam! When he had been absent for two long weeks!
"I told you about it last night," she said indignantly.
He glared.
"I don't remember any arrangement about you leaving here at some
ungodly hour of the morning. Where in Hades did you get to? And with
whom?"
Tallie remembered Madame Girodoux's advice about quarrels and tried to
quell her shaking insides. She carefully removed her hat and laid it
on the side-table. Glancing in a gilt's Knight framed looking glass,
she took her time tidying her still-damp hair, well aware that her
husband was glowering at her back.
He would have to learn she did not care to be spoken to in this tone
before breakfast, particularly when she knew perfectly well she had
done nothing wrong. He might well have forgotten where she'd said she
was going, but he should know she never took a step outside without
Claude, his tame gorilla, in tow. And he was the one who'd taught her
that husbands and wives did not live in each other's pockets. Sauce
for the gander and all that.
Finding her hair sufficiently tidy, she went to the sideboard and
selected warm rolls, scrambled eggs and kedgeree, then seated herself
at the table.
"Mmm, this kedgeree smells delicious. Have you tried it, my lord?" If