To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  ‘Anyone with peculiar views will hear some even more peculiar comments from me, so let’s hear no more on the subject. You’ll be fine.’

  Mercy steeled herself to live up to Charlotte’s expectations, though it was not easy when the car swung into the long curving drive of Upper Lee. Feeling exceedingly nervous Mercy followed her hostess into the house, wondering what had possessed her to come, and wondering how on earth she was going to survive the next few days.

  ‘If you please, ma’am, tea is being served in the library. There’s a nice fire in there.’ The trim little maid waited hopefully, clearly expecting Mercy to follow her downstairs. Mercy took one last look round. There was a nice fire burning in her bedroom. What a pity she could not spend her time here in snug privacy. She gave a sigh and surrendered herself to the inevitable.

  It seemed as though a sea of faces greeted her when she entered the library, although she realized there must only be a dozen or so guests.

  ‘There you are, Mercy,’ Charlotte greeted her. ‘I thought you had deserted us. Do have some tea before it becomes totally undrinkable, and I will introduce you to everyone gradually.’

  Feeling decidedly awkward Mercy looked round for somewhere to sit.

  ‘Please, take my chair.’ A young man in Army uniform, tall and fresh-faced, leapt to his feet.

  Almost before she could draw breath Mercy found herself seated at a low table in the company of several other people. With creditable speed her new acquaintance had supplied her with a cup of tea and a cress sandwich and had sat himself down beside her.

  ‘I think we should introduce ourselves,’ he said. ‘Charlotte will get round to it eventually, of course, but why wait? Archie Nicholson, Captain in His Majesty’s Coldstream Guards, at your service.’ He rose and bowed briefly.

  ‘Mrs Lisburne.’ Then because it sounded so formal she added, ‘Mrs Mercy Lisburne,’ as she extended her hand.

  ‘Lisburne? That name is familiar.’ A tall young woman with an abundance of untidy red hair, who had been reclining next to her suddenly sat upright. ‘Lisburne. You’re the one who used to be—’

  ‘Do wait your turn, Lilian,’ admonished Captain Nicholson cheerfully. ‘Mrs Lisburne, this fiery lady is Mrs Manning. The extremely elegant lady on her right is Mrs Zena Pritchard, and the languid gent is Mr Charles Wentworth. There, that’s enough introductions to be going on with.’

  ‘Where a lady as delightful as Mrs Lisburne is concerned I think it’s more than enough. I suggest we keep her all to ourselves.’ Charles Wentworth rose and bowed, his eyes roving over Mercy a little too appreciatively for her comfort.

  ‘Trust you two to get excited at the advent of a pretty new face.’ It was Mrs Pritchard, who spoke. ‘You’re right, Lilian,’ she said, in a high, clear voice. ‘We have heard of Mrs Lisburne. I never expected we would be fellow guests.’ Her tone betrayed her disapproval all too blatantly.

  Mercy’s spirits, already low, sank a little lower. No matter what Charlotte said, her humble origins were going to make a very uncomfortable difference, if the disdainful expression on Zena Pritchard’s face was anything to go by.

  ‘This is my first visit to Upper Lee,’ she said, in an attempt to steer the conversation into safer waters. ‘It’s a beautiful house, isn’t it?’

  ‘Quite delightful,’ Zena Pritchard agreed. ‘But then, with your background, I am sure you are an authority on fine houses. One must get to know them so very well when one has to scrub the floors.’

  Lilian Manning smothered a giggle at her friend’s comment, though both men had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  Mercy swallowed her mortification with difficulty. If only she could flee to the secluded safety of her bedroom. Then suddenly, quite clearly, in her head she heard Blanche’s voice snort derisively, ‘Hoity-toity trollop!’ All thought of flight left her.

  ‘There you are mistaken, Mrs Pritchard,’ she said evenly. ‘I did not scrub floors for a living.’

  A brittle silence fell, as Zena Pritchard glared angrily at her. Mercy steadfastly held her gaze, and at last the other woman gave a false little laugh.

  ‘How foolish of me!’ she said. ‘Of course, you were a laundry-maid, weren’t you? If you please, Mrs Lisburne, give us the benefit of your professional opinion. What do you think of the laundry-work on this tablecloth?’

  Determined not to show that she was ruffled Mercy stretched out a hand and felt the white linen.

  ‘Extremely well done,’ she said. ‘I would have given it less starch, but that is purely a matter of taste.’ She leaned back, the smile on her face growing tighter by the minute. ‘And now, what of you, Mrs Pritchard? I was going to ask you in which field you excel. But I fancy you have just demonstrated the sum total of your talents very clearly.’

  From somewhere behind her Mercy heard a suppressed snort of laughter.

  Zena Pritchard shot bolt upright in her chair, fury etched on her face. ‘Let me say—’

  She did not get the chance to complete her sentence, for she was interrupted by Charlotte.

  ‘I’m going to break up this cosy tete-a-tete,’ she said, with blatant disregard for the tense atmosphere. ‘I’m going to steal Mercy away for a minute. Someone is dying to meet her.’

  ‘If you will excuse me.’ Mercy inclined her head politely in farewell and rose gratefully.

  ‘I’m sorry you fell in with that crowd,’ Charlotte said, guiding her across the room. ‘The others aren’t too bad, but Zena Pritchard is a bitch. I only invite her to give her poor husband a bit of respite. Now, Mercy, let me introduce you to my cousin, Lord Alston. Alston, this is the Mrs Lisburne you’ve been so eager to meet.’

  ‘This is indeed a pleasure, Mrs Lisburne. I hope you will forgive my impertinence in having Charlotte bring you to me, instead of vice versa. To be honest, I thought you might be in need of rescuing.’

  Lord Alston, despite his rank and ancient lineage, was middle-aged, middle height, and of medium colouring. There was nothing to mark him out as the cream of the aristocracy. Indeed, standing there in his country tweeds, he seemed like a prosperous farmer. But Mercy didn’t care how he looked: she was grateful to him.

  ‘You are absolutely right, my lord,’ she said. ‘My thanks for coming to my assistance so promptly.’

  ‘I must confess I was sorely tempted to let well alone for a while. You seemed to be putting up a remarkably spirited defence. It was exceedingly impolite of me to eavesdrop, but I can’t, in all honesty, say I am sorry. I haven’t heard anything so amusing for ages.’

  ‘I am glad you were so well entertained, my lord,’ said Mercy, a little stiffly.

  ‘There, I have annoyed you. Now that is something for which I do apologize without reservation. My only excuse is that I find your combination of beauty and spirit quite irresistible. They are a very potent force, you know, and rare.’ The compliments should have sounded forced and extravagant, yet somehow they did not.

  ‘I’m not annoyed, I promise you,’ she said hastily. ‘I think I am still a little upset.’

  ‘And no wonder, after having repelled invaders so splendidly. Why don’t you sit here, beside the fire, with me as your watch-dog to fend off any hostile forces?’ Thankfully Mercy sank down beside him.

  ‘I should not have come,’ she said. ‘Charlotte was certain that my background would make no difference, but it does. And I am so afraid my being here will cause trouble. Mrs Pritchard, for one, is not at all pleased to have a laundress as a fellow guest.’

  ‘Although it may be discourteous of me to say so, Mrs Pritchard’s opinions are not quite as important as she imagines. Charlotte is a sound judge of character, and she is pleased to call you a friend. I hope, upon further acquaintance, you might look upon me in the same light. You will have no more trouble.’ He spoke with the absolute self-confidence of the privileged, and Mercy believed him. ‘So, no more talk of wishing you had not come. Promise?’ He looked at her quizzically.

  ‘I promise.’

&n
bsp; Later, it was Lord Alston who took her in to dinner, and who remained by her side during the rest of the evening. Mercy wondered if such single-minded attention was quite proper. Despite her problems with Peter, she was a married woman and Lord Alston, she understood, had a wife. Only as the evening drew on, and she regarded her fellow guests more closely did she realize that, though most of the others admitted to being married, none had come with their partners. The discovery brought back a hint of uneasiness, which she tried to shrug off. If Peter considered himself freed from marital ties why shouldn’t she?

  However, she did not find it so easy. She discovered that she could not throw off the responsibilities of marriage. The ties binding her to Peter were too strong.

  Breakfast next morning was a very casual meal, with everyone helping themselves from the selection of chafing- dishes on the sideboard. Lord Alston was spooning a generous helping of kedgeree on to his plate as she entered.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Lisburne. You slept well, I hope?’ he greeted her.

  ‘Extremely well, my lord, thank you. There’s no sign of Charlotte yet?’ she observed, looking round.

  ‘No, nor likely to be for some time. My cousin is not renowned for being an early riser.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mercy was at something of a loss, uncertain of the form on such occasions.

  ‘We are free to enjoy ourselves this morning. Do you ride, Mrs Lisburne?’

  ‘Not with any decorum,’ she replied.

  He laughed. ‘Then, when you have finished your breakfast, will you permit me to be your escort for a country walk?’

  ‘But you are dressed for riding, my lord.’

  ‘I can go riding any time I like. I have never before had the honour of escorting you and believe me I find that prospect infinitely more preferable. Or perhaps you would prefer to go for a drive?’

  ‘A walk, I think. It’s such a beautiful morning.’

  ‘A walk it will be.’

  The air was heavy with the scents of autumn, of mouldering leaves, of wood-smoke, and of the ripe verdant smell which marked the end of the year. Mercy drank it in and felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia. Since her marriage her life had been bound by town and sea, she had gone into the countryside only rarely. She took in a deep breath and let it out again with a sigh.

  Lord Alston laughed. ‘I have seldom heard such a contented sound,’ he said.

  ‘It’s this air, the smell of it. It brings back such memories of my childhood.’

  ‘Yet surely you were poor? Those memories should be unhappy ones.’

  ‘Oh no, not all of them. There were happy times too, especially at this time of year. Gathering nuts from the hedgerow, for example, and blackberries!’

  ‘I can see you are still very much a country-lover at heart, Mrs Lisburne. I am too; I am delighted you chose to walk this morning. How enjoyable it is to find someone who shares one’s own interests! To walk by one’s self is no pleasure.’

  ‘I am sure you would have no difficulty in finding a companion to keep you company, my lord.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I know I wouldn’t have found any other companion to be so charming.’

  ‘Oh dear! That sounds terribly as though I were fishing for compliments.’

  ‘I hope you were. I’d be delighted to discover that fishing was one of your accomplishments; it is another favourite pastime of mine.’

  ‘Then I am afraid I must disappoint you, my lord,’ laughed Mercy. ‘Fishing for compliments is, I regret, my only acquaintance with the sport.’

  ‘Oh good! In that case I’ll teach you the other variety. There is some excellent coarse fishing to be had on this estate. We’ll have our first lesson tomorrow.’

  He seemed so pleased at the prospect that Mercy could not help smiling. She was finding being in his company extremely easy. For all his aristocratic ancestry he clearly did not care a fig that she had once been a laundress. With his easy manners and his total disregard for the difference in their origins he reminded her of Peter in the early days of their courtship. The thought was not a happy one and she hastened her step to escape from her painful memories.

  The remainder of the day passed surprisingly easily. Charlotte had arranged an excursion to Glastonbury for her guests, and Mercy knew she could rely on her friend’s formidable presence to keep the likes of Zena Pritchard at bay. Most of all, though, it was Lord Alston’s attentiveness that silenced the malicious tongues and allowed Mercy to enjoy herself. He was her constant companion during the outing, then again at dinner she found him by her side.

  Only after dinner did the atmosphere seem to go flat. The inevitable bridge game broke up early, the gentlemen went half-heartedly to play billiards, and an effort to organize dancing came to nothing. Mercy was quite glad to retire to bed with a book. Her rest did not last long, however. She was awakened from her sleep by running feet and shrieking from the corridor outside. Alarmed, she leaped out of bed and, pulling on her dressing-gown, she opened her bedroom door. At first the corridor was empty, then Archie Nicholson and Charles Wentworth rounded the corner. Minus their jackets, they were racing each other, carrying Lilian Manning and Zena Pritchard pick-a-back respectively. At Mercy’s door Archie Nicholson tripped, bringing down the others in a heap on the carpet.

  ‘This is our version of steeplechasing, and much more enjoyable,’ explained Charles Wentworth as, laughing and shrieking, they disentangled themselves. ‘Won’t you join us, Mrs Lisburne?’

  The bedroom door opposite opened, and Lord Alston, clad in a maroon silk dressing-gown, looked out. ‘If you wish to take part in the fun I’m sure you will have no difficulty in finding a cavalier for yourself,’ he said.

  Mercy was aware of the hopeful note in his voice. At the same time she caught the strong smell of alcohol coming from the struggling group on the carpet. There had evidently been some hard drinking going on after she had left the party, and she had no wish to get involved. Apart from that, she felt it was an absurdly childish pastime for adults to indulge in.

  ‘Thank you, no,’ she said. ‘I am rather tired. I’ll leave you to your games.’

  Not bothering to hide his regret Lord Alston bade her good night. As she closed her door she heard Zena Pritchard’s voice exclaim waspishly, ‘Why on earth did you ask the Lisburne woman to join us, Charlie? We’re being jockeys, not bags of laundry.’

  There came a bleat of inane laughter, followed by more shrieks as their silly race continued. The noise of the quartet’s activities kept Mercy awake until the early hours, then she heard Lilian Manning and Captain Nicholson whispering and giggling together until the sound was cut off by the closing of a single door. Zena Pritchard’s bedroom door, closed too. Mrs Pritchard was not alone. The low murmur of voices, male and female, laughing and giggling, and the clink of glasses, continued for some time. Mercy thought she recognized the man’s voice as Charles Wentworth’s. Longing for some quiet, so that she could go back to sleep, she waited for the sound of his departure. It never came. Eventually the voices ceased, and Mercy was able to settle down again.

  She was beginning to understand now why no one at the country house-party was with their spouse, and she began to feel uneasy once more. Was infidelity an accepted part of these occasions? Angry as she was with Peter, she had never really considered being unfaithful to him. She wished, yet again, that she had never come to Upper Lee.

  * * *

  If anyone had any regrets about the excesses of the night before it was not evident at the breakfast table.

  ‘We thought we’d make up a riding-party to go as far as the gorge today,’ announced Zena Pritchard, ignoring Mercy completely. ‘We can count you in, can’t we, Lord Alston? You’re a great rider.’

  ‘I am afraid I must decline your kind invitation. I’m otherwise engaged. Mrs Lisburne and I are going fishing.’

  ‘Are we?’ said Mercy, surprised. ‘I know you said something about it, but I didn’t think you were serious, my lord.’

  ‘Of course I was serious. I do h
ope you aren’t going to disappoint me.’

  ‘No, of course not. It sounds very enjoyable.’

  ‘Fishing?’ Mrs Pritchard’s voice was suddenly full of enthusiasm. ‘What a splendid idea! That sounds much better than riding. We’ll join you and make up a fishing- party instead.’

  ‘I had no idea you were so keen on coarse fishing, Mrs Pritchard.’

  ‘Of course I am, my lord. I love it!’ Mrs Pritchard shot a jubilant look at Mercy.

  ‘Then you must have Charlotte’s water bailiff. I had spoken for the fellow’s services this morning, but I’m sure you’ll make better use of him than we will. Mrs Lisburne and I are only going still-water fishing in the Home Pool – far too tame for an experienced angler like you.’

  ‘Oh but…’ Zena began to protest.

  Lord Alston held up his hand.

  ‘I insist,’ he said. ‘Now, if you are ready, Mrs Lisburne, shall we go?’

  Mercy left the room with Lord Alston conscious of Mrs Pritchard’s indignant gaze boring into her back. She would have been less than human if she had not revelled a little in her triumph.

  As Mercy crossed the hall her glance fell on the table where the morning’s delivery of post was neatly laid out. There was nothing for her, she had already looked. It was foolish of her to look a second time, but she could not help hoping. She had left her address at the Villa Dorata, so that Peter could write to her if he wished. Only, he had clearly not wished. Swallowing, her disappointment she went to fetch her coat.

  The fishing proved to be a soothing diversion, with Lord Alston a very patient tutor.

  ‘I am afraid our catch is rather meagre,’ she said, observing the two small tench and the undersized rudd in the keep-net.

  ‘Did you enjoy yourself? That is the main thing,’ said Lord Alston.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘What about you?’

  ‘How could I help myself, in such company?’ he replied.

  At once she regretted having asked the question. There was an admiration in his eyes she did not want to recognize. She was honest enough to admit that she found Lord Alston’s attentions flattering and a boost to her battered pride. What she sheered away from was the painful question of where such admiration was going to lead. She had no wish to be party to the adulterous games that occupied the other guests.