by Deryn Lake
“There speaks the little renegade of long ago, now grown into the most perfect woman ever to walk the earth.”
“Donny Napier, I vow and declare you have become a serpent-toothed flatterer.”
“All the better with which to bite the apple,” the Captain answered her, and drew the woman he loved into his arms knowing as he did so that both of them had finally sailed into safe harbour.
Chapter Thirty-Four
All things considered, the Duke of Richmond had got into mighty high stirrup over the whole affair. Not content with telling Sarah that Captain Napier was far too young for her, he went on to enumerate all the disadvantages of such a disastrous match, the main one of which seemed to be leaving the home that he, the Duke, had built especially for her and launching into the unknown with a penniless soldier. Susan, duly primed, wrote a letter in the same vein using almost the same words, trying Sarah’s patience to the full. To her credit she had written back in the most reasonable terms.
“As for me, my dear Lady Susan, my situation is easily understood. I have every advantage by living with my dearest brother that is possible to have, but the affection I have for Mr Napier, the gratitude I feel for his excess of partiality to me, the pleasure of being so sincerely loved, and the hopes of that pleasantest of all societies, which a married person only can enjoy, tempts me to give up the present comfort for the future.”
Donny had proposed in May, then had returned to Ireland to fetch his child and wind up his affairs there. It was his intention, now that Sarah had agreed to marry him, to stay by her side until he got her to the altar. However, at the very moment the storm broke, he was away and Sarah was left to face the wrath of her brother alone.
“You’re well off, Sal, with a house of your own and everything you could wish for. Why risk all when you may lose all?”
“Because I’m in love, Charles. A sentiment not unknown to yourself surely?”
“Love, pah! Where has love got you in the past, eh? Into nothing but dire trouble.”
“But I’m older now.”
“Older and no wiser. If you marry Napier you’ll live to regret it.”
“You are entitled to your opinion.”
“Indeed I am, and so strongly do I hold it that I wash my hands of the entire affair.”
“But surely you will not try to stop my final bid for happiness?”
“I intend to do nothing, either for or against. Let those of the family fool enough to support you, do so.”
And with those words, the Duke of Richmond had turned to the papers on his desk, signalling that the meeting was at an end.
In this way, May 1781 passed rather dismally but early in June Donny and his daughter came back, booking into lodgings near Sarah, and their marriage plans finally began to take shape. It was arranged, as the Duke would not be present at the wedding, that Lady Louisa Conolly would act as head of the family, with Lady Emily and Lady Albermarle lending their support. It was also decided that both daughters ought to be in church and that Sarah should go up the aisle on the arm of her brother-in-law, Thomas. The only thing still to be fixed was the day itself. Donny was all for a date in June but Sarah preferred to leave things until the Duke of Richmond had gone abroad for the summer. This was the only disagreement between two people so happy in each other’s company that sheer raw joy communicated itself to everyone else in their presence.
“But why the delay, Sarah? Your brother wouldn’t make a scene surely?”
“No, no. It’s just that I would feel happier if he were safely out of the way.”
“Am I then so detestable to him?”
“He is merely worried about our financial position, that is all.”
“He’s not alone there,” Donny had answered gloomily.
“It is your family’s reaction that is more to the point. I could imagine them shuddering in horror at the thought of your involvement with a woman of my reputation.”
“On the contrary. They said, with one voice, that I was old enough and ugly enough to know what I was doing and they wished me all the luck in the world.”
“How very refreshing,” Sarah had answered with feeling. “The trouble with certain members of my clan, and I include friends amongst that number, is that they are too materialistic. Money is their god.”
Donny had grinned, his hawkish face lively. “I would subscribe to the same religion but it’s difficult to worship a deity you know nothing about.”
“If we talk finances we’ll both end up wretched,” Sarah had stated, then added impulsively, “so let’s go to London for a week and stay with Lady Albermarle in her town house. It would be such fun. We might even visit a theatre or two.”
“Agreed,” he had answered, just as impetuous as she was. “If you won’t marry me at least we can sleep under the same roof.”
“And under the same sheets?”
“That remains to be seen.”
So they had set off in mid-June, the weather delightful, quite unprepared for the shock to both of them, grown so used to space around them, of seeing how crowded London had become, how dirty and noisy.
“Did I once mingle happily here?” Sarah had asked, almost dazedly.
“You were younger in those days.”
“Don’t remind me!”
They had laughed then, at terms with the difference in their ages, Donny utterly captivated by this older woman who, for him, embodied all that he found attractive and intriguing in female kind.
“I think,” said Sarah certainly, “that we should spend at least one night at an inn in Kensington during this stay. I would so much like you to get a glimpse of Holland House before we leave.”
“Your girlhood home?”
“Oh, yes. Donny, it was marvellous, we young people had such glorious larks. There must be so many memories packed within those walls.”
“Did you say it was now let out to tenants?”
“Yes, and will remain so until poor little Henry Holland attains his majority.”
“And you would prefer not to call?”
“When last I did so Lord Rosebery chose to be out. I would rather we surveyed it from a distance.”
“Well, I am prepared to brave them, but if that is your wish.”
“It is, my darling, it is.”
“Then so be it, Sarah. But know that I am ready to face the world on your behalf.”
He loved her so much it was painful to witness and she kissed him for his loyalty.
“Has there ever been a love such as ours?”
“Never since time began,” answered Donny, and knew that it was because they had both known so much hardship, so much of life’s enormous cruelty, that the fineness of their devotion tasted so very very sweet.
*
With what alacrity, and indeed with what relief, had Sidonie taken to spending her nights and evenings in the flat upstairs. In a sense, she supposed, she had moved in with the man she was going to marry, it was as simple as that. But in reality she was also taking refuge from the fear of being alone after dark in a place which even now, despite all the precautions, felt vulnerable to Nigel’s attack.
Yet, though she might consider herself safe at night, there were the daylight hours for Sidonie to contend with. Her music room, her precious harpsichord, still with the letter from George III hidden inside it, were all in the Garden Flat and, though she might technically be living with Finnan, the very nature of her work took Sidonie back home daily.
His lecture tour was nearing its end, as much as it ever would, initial questions about the Canadian findings having mostly been answered. But still there came the odd time when he had to be away overnight, and it was on these occasions that Sidonie was particularly glad to stop practising early and go upstairs for the rest of the evening. Sometimes she would ask Jannie down for a chat, sometimes she would simply watch television, but mostly Sidonie would just relax in the comfort of Finnan’s surroundings, enjoying getting into his bed, even without him in it, just to be close
to the essence of him.
Tonight though, with another Wigmore Hall engagement looming up, booked by Rod the moment he had read her French reviews, Sidonie knew that she must steel herself to practise till eight o’clock when, out of courtesy to the neighbours, she would have to stop. So it was with much gritting of teeth, the knowledge that Finnan was in Edinburgh and would not be back till tomorrow nagging in the back of her mind, that she stayed on in the music room trying to ignore the fact that it would be dark by four.
In common with most London parks, Holland Park closed at dusk, but Holland Walk, as a public walkway, remained open, and try as she would Sidonie could not get out of her thoughts the fact that only the garden separated her from the place where anyone could be loitering, that it was through the music room the intruder had made his entry before. To forget her anxieties, to let music consume her to the point where she dismissed everything else, seemed hopeless this evening. There was a pricking at Sidonie’s spine, a ghastly feeling of unease she simply couldn’t shake off. Determined not to give in to it until she had to, she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee, then found herself hard put to it to go back down the stairs to the music room.
*
“Did I ever tell you about the time I met Count Alexei Orlov?” Donny was saying.
“Catherine the Great’s lover? No, you didn’t.”
“I was briefly in St Petersburg with my regiment and encountered him at a dinner party. Well, I am six foot two, as you know, but the Count is so enormous that I could stand upright under his outstretched arm. He’s a veritable giant of a fellow.”
“No doubt that appeals to Madame the Empress.”
“Are you being rude?”
“Yes, very.”
“Tut, tut,” said Donny, and pulled her close to him.
They had borrowed a vis-à-vis from Lady Albermarle’s stable but, in a highly irregular manner, had dispensed with the services of a coachman and were sitting packed tightly together on the box, the reins in Captain Napier’s firm grip. Having left London on the previous day, the couple had spent a leisurely night at an inn in Kensington Village and were now on their way, in the late afternoon, to see Holland House, albeit covertly and from the discreet distance of the drive.
“Are you sure you will not call?” asked Donny for the dozenth time.
“Positive.”
“Then how far up the drive should we go?”
“I think to the carriage sweep. We can linger a few moments for you to take in the scene. After all, we are doing no harm.”
“But what about the gate keeper?”
“He is still employed by the Holland estate and will certainly open up for us. Here, let me take the reins. He ought to recognise me even after all this time.”
“Won’t he think it very unorthodox?”
“To see me driving? Oh Donny, don’t be so stuffy. Susan and I used to race gigs up and down the elm drive when we had half a chance. He’s used to it.”
“A far cry from sobersides Scotland,” Captain Napier answered wryly.
“If you don’t watch out I’ll take you up at a canter,” warned Sarah as they drew to a halt before the massive gates leading to the house and parklands.
“I’d put nothing past you,” sighed her fiancé, feigning despair, yet smiling as Sarah called cheerily to the gate keeper and his wife who bowed and waved with enthusiasm before slowly swinging the mighty portals open.
*
It had become something of a contest between Sidonie’s intellect and intuition. Physically, she knew that there was nothing to fear. She had been round the entire flat checking the windows, each with its own security lock, and putting the chains on the front and music room doors. She had even ventured down the garden, her heart thumping painfully, to make sure that the bolts were shot, the key turned, in the garden door. Yet still, despite all this, feeling like a neurotic New Yorker, Sidonie could not shed the symptoms of fear.
It would have been easier by far to have admitted defeat, to have given up the practice session and gone upstairs but, though she was certain it would eventually come to this, something perverse, something Taurean in her nature would not allow Sidonie to do so until she could not stand the strain a second longer.
“If you give in now you’ll never come back,” she said to the empty room, and the silence flowed towards her in answering folds.
She had managed to return with her coffee mug and had embarked on Handel, but he had proved too much for her and she had retreated to the Earl of Kelly. Yet her ears were straining over the music she was making and it seemed to her that she could hear the feet of the people moving along Holland Walk, that every sound from the drowsy park had been magnified a million times to ears suddenly sensitive to even a spider’s scurry.
And then, above it all, Sidonie heard Nigel’s footsteps coming through the park, closing in on her where she waited, trapped and alone. It was impossible, of course, but the impression, ridiculous though it was, was so strong that she jumped to her feet in alarm and would have rushed upstairs to the other flat had the telephone not rung. Thinking it was Finnan, almost weeping with relief, Sidonie went to answer it.
*
How strange is memory! Tilting her head back to look from the vis-à-vis as it bowled along the elm avenue’s impressive length, Sarah could see that the trees were just as fine and noble as she had remembered them, that the approach to the house she held more dear than any other in the world, was indeed the grandest she had ever beheld.
“Do you like it?” she said to Donny.
“It is one of the most beautiful prospects imaginable. What a mighty place. How lucky you are to have spent so many years here before everything came to an end.”
“It will live again,” she replied certainly. “I feel in my very bones that the great days of Holland House are not yet over.”
“It would be tragic if they were.” Captain Napier looked upwards. “I think there’s going to be a storm. We’d better hurry.”
“Oh, but we must get as near as we can before we go back,” Sarah answered him as the first droplets of rain began to fall and a cloud made the day suddenly and ominously dark.
“Yes, I would like to see the house close to,” Donny said as the equipage bowled on.
*
The terrible thing was that one part of his brain continued to function normally, observing all he did in a cold and critical way. Yet, like a trapped prisoner, it was impotent, unable to exercise any control over the other. His censor, for that was how Nigel thought of it, could watch, could even warn, but had no power over all the other teeming emotions released when he had consumed just the right combination of drink and drugs.
He had got into Holland Park by the easiest way of all, simply going down the path leading to the youth hostel then cutting round behind it, making his way past the back of Holland House, bending low so that he wasn’t seen by any of the inmates. In a way he was shut into the park, his only exit by the route he had used to come in, but tonight he was in a mood for challenge and Nigel intended to take a circuitous path, ending up in Holland Walk from where he would then go and attend to Sidonie.
He knew that she still wanted him sexually, that all her play-acting about hatred and fear was just to stimulate him even more, to turn him on, to use a vulgarism. And if only she knew how well she had succeeded. He, who had been homosexual at school, bisexual at university, and straight only with her, had never known desire like it. He wanted her so much he could have screamed with the pain of it and believed, though his censor warned him he might be mistaken in this, that one good coupling, one hard roger, was all it would take to bring Sidonie running back to him, gasping for more. Grinning, Nigel rounded the corner of the ruined house, feeling himself beginning to be ready for sex.
It was Jane Brooks on the other end of the line and Sidonie hardly knew how to control her voice.
“Is anything wrong, darling? You sound a bit odd.”
“I’m very ti
red. I think I’ve been overworking.”
“Then take the evening off.”
“I’m going to. I’m just on my way upstairs.”
“I rang that number but got the answerphone. Is Finnan out?”
“He’s away, lecturing in Scotland. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I’m so happy about everything. Daddy and I were most impressed with him, you know.”
How to cut her short without hurting her feelings? “Mummy, I think there’s someone at the door. I’ll have to go. Listen, I’ll ring you back in an hour. OK?”
“Of course, darling. Take care. See who it is then go and put your feet up.”
“I will. ’Bye.”
After she had replaced the receiver, Sidonie stood in the hall, listening to the sound of her heart, and then, instead of running for it, went back down to the music room determined that if Nigel were coming for her she would finally trap him, call the police and reveal him for what he really was. Carefully taking the other, the portable phone, from its cradle, Sidonie crept downstairs to lie in wait.
*
“There,” said Sarah triumphantly, “is it not splendid?”
They had stopped in the carriage sweep, the west wicket gate in the railings protecting the house being open, presumably for when Lord Rosebery returned home, and had come close to the steps leading up to the great courtyard.
“Even in the rain it’s one of the most magnificent places I’ve ever seen,” Donny answered satisfyingly, and Sarah loved him all the more for his boyish enthusiasm.
But it had begun to pour hard and much as she would have liked to linger it was foolish to stay and risk a soaking.
“Let’s head back to the inn,” she called over a sudden unexpected clap of thunder.
“Shall I take the reins?”
“No, let me. I know every pothole in the drive. I’ll get you there twice as fast.”
And with that Sarah swept the carriage round the other side of the half-moon, out through the east wicket and back into the avenue, picking up speed as she went.