Madalena

by Sheila Walsh

  Sir Vyvian Courtwell drawled lazily, ‘Marvellous, ain’t it? The lad don’t even see what a hot little filly his sister is! Bit of a goer too, so I hear.’

  Daniel frowned and shook his head as Armand looked from one to the other. ‘What is this “goer”?’

  ‘Take no notice, my boy,’ Daniel advised hastily. ‘Vyv is apt at times to favour the language of the turf.’ He added casually, ‘I confess I should like to know your sister better.’

  ‘Then you must come to stay at Ivy Mount when we return to Sussex. Tante Vernon would not mind, I am sure.’

  ‘I should like that. She is very friendly with Lytten, I believe ‒ your sister?’

  ‘Dieu! Do not speak of it!’ Armand grinned. ‘She has the aunts in a devil of a taking! They do not understand my Maddie very well, I think.’

  ‘Still, you can see their point,’ drawled Vyv. ‘I mean, Lytten ain’t exactly a choice companion for a young girl.’

  ‘Oh, it is not serious, I think.’

  Madalena was puzzled when at first Devereux did not come, but she told herself that he was often late.

  She did not really begin to worry until Bettina Varley minced across, looking more smug than usual.

  ‘The Duke has not arrived?’ she enquired innocently.

  ‘He will come very soon,’ Madalena replied with some hauteur.

  The girl smiled. ‘I would not bank upon it, my dear mademoiselle. When I last saw him, he was very much occupied elsewhere.’

  ‘Please to say what you mean.’

  ‘I mean that as we passed Lady Serena Fairfax’s house on our way here, the Duke had dismissed his carriage and was mounting the steps.’

  To cover the sudden sick fear in her heart, Madalena flared, ‘That is one big lie!’

  Phoebe laid a warning hand on her arm, but it was swept away. ‘I know that you are simply jealous!’ she added.

  Bettina’s lips tightened in anger and then, as she looked towards the head of the stairway, her expression slowly changed. ‘Well! Who is the jealous one now?’

  Madalena followed her gaze. Devereux was coming into the ballroom and on his arm, laughing up at him, was Lady Serena Fairfax. Bettina’s spiteful voice was full of ill-concealed elation.

  ‘I declare I could laugh myself silly, Madalena de Brussec! You were going to be so clever ‒ you were going to have Lytten at your feet ‒ and now you are nowhere!’

  The words went round and round in Madalena’s head until it reeled giddily. She was still standing thus when Devereux’s voice penetrated her misery. She stared up, uncomprehending.

  ‘You are not paying attention, little one. I was tendering my apologies for being late. How many dances have you saved for me?’

  Oh, the traitor! Such duplicity ‒ to come straight to her from that woman ‒ and actually smile!

  ‘I regret, Monseigneur le Duc,’ she said through stiff lips. ‘My card is quite full.’

  His eyebrow shot up in surprise ‒ and then he laughed tenderly. ‘Well, we have overcome that difficulty before, ma mie.’ He reached for her card, but she snatched it from him with trembling hands.

  ‘You do not understand ‒ I do not wish it changed!’

  The Duke’s expression underwent a series of changes from disbelief and incredulity to cold fury.

  ‘My God! Have you taken leave of your senses, Madalena?’

  ‘Au contraire, monseigneur ‒ I have just come to them.’

  His face would have frightened her if she had not been so overwrought. People were stirring uncomfortably ‒ some watched with undisguised interest. In the silence the music began to play and Madalena’s partner hovered nervously in the background.

  Devereux turned abruptly on his heel ‒ and then, seeing Bettina standing demure in victory, he stopped. There was an icy politeness in his manner. ‘Miss Varley ‒ are you engaged for this set?’

  Her eyes flashed a quick, triumphant glance at Madalena. ‘Only to my brother, your grace,’ she simpered. ‘I am sure he would be glad to give up his place.’

  Madalena watched them go and her heart was slowly breaking in little pieces. The cool husky voice of Lady Serena spoke at her side. ‘My dear child! Whatever are you about? You will never hold a man like Dev with those tactics!’

  Madalena swung round slowly. ‘So? Doubtless you speak from your very great experience, madame,’ she said distinctly. ‘But me, I do not stoop to hold any man!’

  It was so blatant an insult that Phoebe gasped, but Serena Fairfax only raised an amused eyebrow and passed on her way with a light laugh.

  Phoebe turned distressed eyes to John Brownlow and whispered brokenly, ‘Oh Maddie! What have you done?’

  ‘Done!’ Madalena’s laugh was shrill ‒ tears hovered on her lashes. ‘It is not what I have done!’ She whirled round upon her, by now, apprehensive partner. ‘Why do you stand there? Can you not see I am waiting to dance?’

  This wild mood of defiance sustained her for a while ‒ and then, as it passed, she wished only to hide from the whisperings and the glances. She knew that she had made a bad scandal this time; Tante Vernon would be distressed, which made her sad ‒ and Lady Fleet would have no more of her, which even in her misery, concerned her not at all. But she could not face them yet.

  She had been so sure that Devereux would leave, yet some time later his eyes found hers across the room and their expression struck a chill of apprehension right through her.

  Thinking only of escape, she slipped out of sight behind a small knot of people and moved swiftly to the nearest door, praying that no-one would hinder her flight.

  In the corridor Madalena hesitated, unsure which way to go. There was somewhere a retiring room into which they had been shown earlier ‒ but where? Plunging to her left, she hurried along. All the doors were closed and all looked alike. Tiens! This was absurd! Now here was a corner and more passages! One look sufficed to show that Dev was on her heels, and panicking, she plunged again to the left and broke into a run. She must choose a room quickly. Voyons ‒ there was a small recess ahead ‒ and several steps up to a door. He had not yet reached the corner and in a flash she turned the handle and was ‒ inside.

  She leaned against the door to regain her breath while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Silvery light filtered in through gently wafting muslin curtains and soon she could make out shapes. There seemed to be an ornate day bed in the centre of the room. So ‒ it appeared she was in some kind of boudoir.

  Madalena stepped forward quietly, careful to avoid anything which might make a noise. Once a board creaked and she froze, hardly breathing. When she was almost at the window, the door handle began to turn and at once she slipped behind the heavy curtains. The door swung open, letting in a stream of light and then, after a pause, closed again and there came the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

  Peste! He had locked her in! Now what was she to do?

  And then her heart stopped. There was a scraping sound ‒ someone was lighting candles!

  ‘You can come out now, Madalena,’ said the Duke.

  Disentangling herself from the curtain, she emerged, crimson with mortification. Devereux surveyed her with hard, glittering eyes and she stared back defiantly. Neither spoke. Madalena glanced towards the door and saw the key was gone.

  ‘You have locked the door!’ she accused him at last.

  He removed the key from his pocket and let it lie in the palm of his hand.

  ‘You will please to unlock it at once,’ she commanded with hauteur. ‘I wish to leave.’

  ‘Do you?’ An unpleasant smile twisted his lips and he returned the key to his pocket.

  Madalena began to feel frightened. She did not know how to cope with this dark and dangerous mood.

  ‘I … expected th … that you would leave,’ she stammered.

  ‘Did you?’ The voice was harsh ‒ grating. ‘Is that how you imagined that it would be? That you, the little ingénue would captivate the notorious Duke of Lytten, and the
n, when it pleased you, send him about his business while the world looked on? Oh no, my dear ‒ you picked the wrong man!’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean! I was simply enraged that you were with that one instead of me …’

  ‘We will leave Lady Serena out of this, if you please. You have insulted her sufficiently for one evening!’

  ‘I know,’ she confessed miserably. ‘I should not have behaved so in front of everyone, but you know my temper ‒ how I do not stop to think!’

  ‘Come now, Madalena ‒ let us have an end to this play-acting. Wasn’t it exactly as you planned it from the very beginning?’

  A cold fear was growing in her with every word ‒ filling her chest to suffocation and freezing the mutinous tears behind her eyes.

  ‘Can you deny that you set out deliberately to engage my affections in order that you might cut me down to size?’

  ‘No!’

  The cry was wrung from her aching throat, but the cold voice went on, ‘I will give you your exact words, if you wish ‒ you were to “Teach me a small lesson.” ’

  Bettina Varley! Madalena could almost hear the simpering voice artlessly dropping the words from her lips like poisoned honey. ‘It wasn’t like that!’ she cried.

  ‘No? What was it like? No ‒ don’t tell me. Explanations are tedious ‒ and in this case, irrelevant; guilt, ma petite, is written all over your so enchanting face!’

  Madalena shut her eyes. It was a nightmare; soon she would wake and it would not have happened. She pressed her hands to her ears to shut out the remorseless voice, but in a stride Devereux reached her and dragged them down.

  ‘What is wrong, Madalena?’ he taunted. ‘Are you not enjoying your triumph? For it is a triumph, my dear; you have succeeded where all other women have failed!’ The voice hardened still further. ‘So. You have had your pleasure ‒ now it is my turn.’

  He thrust her away abruptly. Madalena watched in horror as he began to remove his coat. She pressed a hand to her aching throat.

  ‘Wh-what are you doing?’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh come, ma belle! Surely I don’t have to spell it out ‒ to you, of all people! I am assured that the French understand these things so much better than the English.’

  In the heavy sarcasm Madalena again heard Bettina’s influence. How she must have enjoyed such a betrayal.

  ‘No!’ she said flatly. ‘I do not in the least wish to be ravished by you.’

  Devereux paused in the act of unbuttoning his waistcoat to eye her coldly and dispassionately. ‘Too bad, my dear; but the game has harsh rules, as you must have realized when you had the impertinence to involve yourself with me.’

  ‘I say you are mad ‒ or very drunk! Yes, that is it ‒ you are drunk!’

  ‘Very probably.’

  ‘And you are also very stupid if you think to get away with this rape,’ she gasped, backing away as the waistcoat slid from his arms and his fingers moved up to loosen his cravat. ‘Someone will miss me from the ballroom and come to look … I ‒ I shall scream …’

  ‘No you won’t.’ He began to walk towards her, and with a sickening jolt Madalena found a bureau at her back. The room had suddenly grown very hot ‒ yet she shivered.

  ‘Trembling, are you?’ he sneered. ‘Take heart, my dear Madalena ‒ console yourself that in losing your virtue to me, you will at least be the envy of all your young friends, for do they not lie in their chaste little beds each night, dreaming of just such a fate!’

  ‘Dev ‒ I implore you!’ she sobbed brokenly. She would have given herself so willingly to the cher ami of last night, but this man with the face carved out of granite was a terrifying stranger, ruthless and single-minded. His eyes burned her up.

  She put out her hands in a futile gesture ‒ and then he seemed suddenly to go very far away … Madalena was just aware of his astonished face before he vanished completely …

  Devereux was bending over her, his face very close. She was lying on the day bed and as she struggled to sit up, he restrained her.

  ‘Drink this first. Come ‒ it is only brandy,’ he added dryly as alarm flared in her eyes. ‘Someone obligingly left it on the bureau.’

  ‘Je ne comprends pas ‒ what has happened?’

  ‘Nothing has happened, ma chère Madalena ‒ except that you swooned away in a dead faint at my feet.’

  Madalena sat up abruptly and for a moment her head swam. ‘Oh, but that is a great piece of nonsense! I have never swooned in the whole of my life!’

  ‘Well, I assure you that you have done so now.’ His voice was tinged with bitter mockery. ‘Perhaps you have never had cause until now.’

  Madalena coloured and stood up ‒ too quickly. The Duke put out a steadying hand, but she shook it off. ‘Merci, monseigneur, but I am quite well able to manage for myself.’

  In silence he took the key from his pocket and put it in her hand.

  She stared at it and her eyes went to his face.

  ‘You are letting me go?’

  Devereux did not answer immediately; he was reliving the horror of that moment when she had sunk white and insensible at his feet ‒ his utter revulsion with himself for what he had almost done. Nothing showed in his face however when at last he spoke.

  ‘My dear child ‒ you must know I have seduced a considerable number of women in my time; on occasions I have even met with some slight resistance.’ He paused, and again there was a hint of mockery in the hard, brilliant eyes. ‘But never until this moment has the prospect caused anyone to faint! And I find that nothing can be more surely guaranteed to kill all passion stone dead!’

  He took the key from her nerveless fingers and crossed to the door.

  Madalena followed as though in a dream. At the door she laid a tentative hand on his arm. ‘Dev ‒ if you will permit me to explain? It was not the way it seemed …’

  At once his manner became withdrawn. ‘Leave it, Madalena,’ he said with harsh finality. ‘It is over.’

  She drew in a sharp breath, and without another word ‒ and with her head held high to keep back the tears, she walked past him out of the room.

  Chapter Four

  Kit Vernon strode from the house and turned towards the stables, determined upon a brisk gallop to rid himself of the black mood which had plagued him all the way from London.

  Damn Lytten to Hell! So arrogant ‒ so damnably sure of himself as he was with all women ‒ turning little Maddie’s head with his smooth ways and she, in spite of her confident assurances, not seeing that it was all a game.

  Kit slashed the bushes savagely with his riding crop. It still rankled with him that he should be here in Sussex at all; he should be in London making Devereux answer for his conduct. He had missed the drama of the ball, but word had reached him soon enough and he had rushed round to his aunt’s, to find himself plunged into a most tremendous kick-up, with Mama and Phoebe in floods of tears, Uncle Roger ineffectual as ever, and Aunt Hortense, purple-faced and rigid with fury, declaring that nothing would induce her to house Madalena for one day further; that never would she forgive her for shaming them all before Lady Sefton and her friends!

  When he had finally made sense of it all, nothing would do for Mama but that he should shepherd the family home to Sussex with all speed and he, seeing Maddie standing there, deathly pale and seemingly stunned, could only agree.

  Raised voices reached him as he approached the stable yard and he rounded the corner to find Madalena there before him, berating the young undergroom soundly for refusing to saddle Perseus, the Brigadier’s big new hunter, which the lad steadfastly maintained would get the little mam’selle killed sure!

  Kit eyed her stubborn face with its touch of desperation. ‘Jamie’s in the right of it, m’dear,’ he said gently. ‘You can’t ride that brute ‒ he just ain’t a lady’s mount.’

  Madalena pointed a shaking finger towards a docile, waiting grey. ‘I will not have that sluggard which can barely put one foot in front of the other when I wish to rid
e ventre à terre.’

  Kit hesitated ‒ then quietly instructed Jamie to saddle another of his father’s mounts ‒ a bay mare with enough spirit to satisfy Maddie in her present mood.

  While he waited for his own horse, he threw Madalena up into the saddle ‒ and dammit ‒ before he could draw breath, she had gathered up the reins and was away down the drive.

  Kit swore mightily and cursed Jamie’s fumbling fingers as they struggled with the girth straps. Then he too was away, pounding after her, trying not to remember that look in her eyes, not even sure which direction she had taken.

  He came upon the horse at last, standing motionless in a clearing and Madalena bowed over its neck lost in a wild frenzy of weeping.

  Kit hung back, feeling a hopeless, inadequate anger in the face of such grief. At last the shuddering sobs grew less and she sat up, her face blotched and swollen. When he spoke, his voice shook.

  ‘If I’d known you were going to pull a cork-brained trick like that, I wouldn’t have let you near that animal!’

  ‘I wished very much to be dead,’ she said in a flat voice.

  ‘Well, you damn nearly succeeded! You scared hell out of me, I can tell you ‒ I expected to come upon your mangled corpse at every turn.’

  Madalena put out a swift hand. ‘Poor Kit! I am sorry ‒ it was not well done of me. I will not be so foolish again.’

  ‘I could kill Lytten!’

  ‘Ah, but no – he is your bon ami …’

  ‘Not any more,’ he interposed harshly.

  ‘What happened was not Dev’s fault.’ She saw his look of patent disbelief. ‘Well, perhaps a little, but you do not know it all; I, too, behaved very badly.’

  ‘He had no business to engage your affections; he must have known what would be the outcome. If you remember, I tried to tell you.’

  ‘Eh bien ‒ one cannot choose where to give one’s heart.’ Madalena attempted a smile, but her mouth went awry. ‘If it gets a little broken one must be patient and hope that it will mend.’

  She gave his hand a quick squeeze and straightened resolutely. ‘And now we will ride back, and I think we will say nothing of all this.’