Deirdre and Desire

by Beaton, M. C.

  The grim-faced maid evinced no surprise at the wet and bedraggled figure on the step. She led Deirdre into the dark and chilly drawing-room and said she would inform Mr Wentwater of Miss Armitage’s call.

  Deirdre paced up and down, shivering. Would he never come? If he did not hurry up, Lady Wentwater would be back and all pleas for an elopement impossible.

  She had quite given up hope when the door opened and Guy walked in. He strode forwards and took her hands in his.

  ‘What is this?’ he exclaimed, standing back to survey her. ‘You are soaked to the skin.’

  ‘I had to see you,’ said Deirdre. ‘I am in the most awful trouble.’

  ‘I thought you had decided to accept the marriage to Desire when I saw him return with you,’ said Guy.

  But I haven’t,’ wailed Deirdre. ‘It’s you I love.’

  There, it was out. She had said it. She waited anxiously for him to say he loved her as well, but he dropped her hands and stood very still, staring into the blackness of the empty fireplace.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked at last.

  ‘Elope with me,’ whispered Deirdre.

  She was now afraid to look at him, terrified of his rejection.

  The wind moaned in the trees outside and a spatter of rain hit the windows.

  ‘Why not?’ he said with a sudden laugh.

  ‘Oh, Guy!’ cried Deirdre thankfully. She waited eagerly for him to take her in his arms, but he only stood a little away from her, looking at her with a sort of brooding, calculating expression she could not understand.

  ‘I have it!’ he said at last. ‘Meet me tomorrow at the Hopeminster crossroads. I am afraid you will have to walk. Bring very little with you. I will buy you any clothes you need.’

  Deirdre wanted to run into his arms, to be held, to have all her worries and doubts soothed away. If only he would say he loved her.

  There came the rattle of carriage wheels on the drive outside.

  ‘My aunt!’ exclaimed Guy. ‘She must not find you here. I’ll tell the maid to say nothing. Come with me and I will show you how to leave by the back way.’

  He hustled her out of the drawing-room and through the house to where French windows opened from a little-used morning-room into the gardens at the back.

  Guy wrenched at the rusty catch and all but pushed her out into the garden.

  ‘Until tomorrow,’ he said urgently. ‘Meet me at the crossroads at two in the afternoon. Now go!’

  ‘Guy,’ pleaded Deirdre, hanging on to his arm. ‘I do not want to force you to do this. Do you love me?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, with a little laugh. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the lips, then gave her a little shove. ‘Be off with you! We can talk tomorrow,’ he added, firmly shutting the window on her.

  Well, that was that, thought Deirdre, as she scurried through the wet gardens and slipped out by a small gate leading into a narrow lane which skirted the estate.

  All the long way home, she was worried and anxious. She had dreamed and fantasized that things would miraculously be splendid and beautiful if he said he loved her and said he would elope with her.

  And he had!

  But the worry and dread would not go away.

  She could only be glad that no one saw her creep into the vicarage. She went up to her room and changed quickly into a comfortable old wool gown and towelled her hair dry, pinning it back from her face in a severe style.

  How on earth was she to pack a couple of bandboxes – for she could not take any more – and escape from the vicarage unseen?

  A way suggested itself at supper. Lord Harry was cheerfully planning a visit to Hopeminster the following day. Even Mrs Armitage had roused herself from her customary lethargy to express enthusiasm. The family decided to leave directly after morning service.

  ‘I shall pretend to be sick,’ thought Deirdre. ‘And when they have all left for Hopeminster, I will make my escape.

  It would take her a full hour to walk to the crossing.

  The vicar kept eyeing his daughter throughout supper, noticing the feverish light in her green eyes and the pallor of her face.

  His conscience smote him, and finally he listened to its harsh voice. It was a pity Deirdre showed no signs of forming a tendre for Lord Harry. But if the very idea was going to make her ill, then he would need to cancel the whole thing and write to Lord Sylvester and wheedle some money out of him.

  The vicar’s heart sank at this thought for he stood very much in awe of his elegant son-in-law; his other one, the Marquess of Brabington, could, on occasion, be even more formidable.

  Lord Harry seemed in an unusually sombre mood. Knows she doesn’t want him, thought the vicar gloomily.

  He left the table as soon as he could and fled to the kennels to sit and tell his troubles to his hounds, which sometimes seemed to understand better than any human.

  Deirdre was glad to escape to bed. She thought she would not possibly be able to sleep, but she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, worn out with worry and exhaustion.

  The day dawned bright, glittering and cold. Ice had formed in the cans of washing water. While Daphne still slept, Deirdre sat chewing her nails and planning how to pretend to be ill.

  But as it turned out, she did not have to pretend very much. The vicar had gone ahead to the church and the rest of the family and Lord Harry were all assembled in the parlour waiting for her when Deirdre walked in. She opened her mouth to tell her very well-rehearsed lies, closed it, and burst into tears instead, crying and crying as if her heart would break.

  Daphne hustled her from the room and led her back upstairs.

  ‘What is it Deirdre?’ she asked in her soft voice, forgetting about her own appearance for once.

  ‘I-I’m not well,’ hiccupped Deirdre. ‘I w-walked h-home in the rain yesterday, and . . . and . . . I must have caught a chill. My poor head aches so much. All I want is to be left alone. Please go to Hopeminster after the service without me.’

  ‘I know what it’s like,’ said Daphne, stroking Deirdre’s red curls. ‘I get blinding headaches sometimes and all I want is to be left in peace. I am really very fond of you, Deirdre. Don’t cry. I will not let Papa bully you into coming with us to Hopeminster and I shall tell Mrs Hammer to leave a cold collation for you in the dining-room so you may eat if you feel like it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ mumbled Deirdre miserably. She longed to confide in Daphne, but she knew instinctively that Daphne would go straight to their father.

  So Deirdre lay down on top of the bed and turned her face into her pillow.

  Daphne picked up a quilt, tucked it around her and with a soft ‘goodbye’ left the room.

  Deirdre fully expected her mother to pay her a visit, for Mrs Armitage could be very firm when it came to family outings although she was remarkably lax in everything else. But Daphne turned out to show a vein of steel that no one had hitherto guessed at, and said decisively that Deirdre must on no account be disturbed.

  Daphne had the honour of being escorted to church by Lord Harry. As they walked sedately along the narrow lane behind the rest of the Armitage party, Lord Harry reflected Daphne was a dazzlingly beautiful young girl when she managed to get her mind off her own appearance.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said lightly, ‘all about Mr Guy Wentwater.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t want to know about him,’ exclaimed Daphne. ‘He is most disreputable, and not a gentleman.’

  ‘And yet he seems to be on calling terms with your uncle, and Miss Deirdre was furthermore most anxious to introduce me to him.’

  ‘How odd,’ said Daphne softly. ‘Sir Edwin would invite Mr Wentwater because Mr Wentwater is very rich. But for Deirdre even to go near him!’

  ‘What is so bad about Mr Wentwater?’

  ‘Oh, at one time it seemed as if he would marry Annabelle, but we found out just in time that he was a slave trader. So that was that. He does not trade any more but Papa says once you do that sort
of thing, you’re apt to go ahead and replace it with something just as nasty.’

  ‘How true,’ said Lord Harry. He could almost feel the fair Daphne becoming self-absorbed again. She had paused to glance down at her reflection in a puddle.

  ‘But Miss Deirdre did not seem to hold him in aversion,’ he pursued.

  ‘Do you think so?’ asked Daphne vaguely. ‘Well, maybe she is sorry for him if she found out what Papa did to him.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘You mustn’t tell anyone, for I am not supposed to know, but I overheard John Summer, our coachman, telling the maid, Betty. They tell each other things because they have an understanding and hope to be married.’

  ‘Yes, yes, and what was it that you heard John Summer tell Betty?’ asked his lordship with a rare touch of impatience in his voice.

  ‘Only that Papa had taken out his pack and hunted down Mr Wentwater, right in the middle of summer!’

  ‘I cannot see how he could manage to set a pack of fox-hounds on a man.’

  Daphne giggled. ‘John Summer hid an old fox in the box of Mr Wentwater’s carriage. So that is what the hounds were chasing although Mr Wentwater was sure it was himself. That was over three years ago and Mr Wentwater has not been seen up until now.’

  ‘How could Miss Deirdre have an opportunity of meeting him then, if he is not allowed to call at the vicarage?’

  ‘Oh, I suppose she might meet him at Lady Wentwater’s. Deirdre often reads to her, you see.’

  They turned in at the church gate. Daphne realized that in her worry over Deirdre she had quite forgotten to put on her new bonnet and this fact drove all other thoughts from her mind.

  Deirdre was packing feverishly, half unable to believe she was about to take such a drastic step. No longer did the vicarage look shabby and poky; instead it seemed a safe, warm haven filled with happy memories. She longed for Minerva. Somehow, had Minerva still been at the vicarage, Deirdre felt that things would have taken a different turn.

  Her heart was beating hard and her fingers were trembling. What would the twins, Perry and James, think of her when they heard the news?

  They would be home at Christmas, and she would not be there. She was sure the vicar would not allow her to set foot in the vicarage again.

  At least the family and Lord Harry were going to leave the church and go straight to Hopeminster without returning home. She would need to keep away from the main road and make her way the long way round by the back lanes.

  She put on a serviceable pair of walking boots and pulled a thick cloak about her shoulders.

  She put a poke bonnet on her head, one she had never worn, considering the long poke ugly. But it hid her face, and if the Armitage family should see her, by ill chance, from a distance, they would surely not recognize her.

  Finally, she made her way slowly down the stairs, starting at every creak, trying not to bump the two bandboxes against the bannister.

  She had reached the bottom step when the door to the kitchen opened and Betty came into the hall.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Deirdre, fighting for composure. ‘You were supposed to be at church.’

  ‘I was told by Miss Daphne to wait behind in case you wanted anything,’ said Betty, her black eyes snapping with curiosity. ‘Where are you going and why have you got them bandboxes?’

  ‘I am taking these things up to the Hall,’ said Deirdre. ‘Lady Edwin is collecting old clothes for the poor. I feel much better. Don’t make a fuss, Betty.’

  Deirdre thought of the tear-stained letter she had left on her pincushion. What if Betty saw it too soon and alerted everyone?

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, Miss Deirdre, I’d best be fetching my bonnet and come with you,’ said Betty cheerfully.

  ‘There is no need for that,’ replied Deirdre, forcing herself to be calm, although she felt like screaming at the waste of time. ‘A walk in the fresh air is just what I need to clear my head. I shall go back round by the church and join the others.’

  Betty hesitated, and then gave a reluctant nod.

  Deirdre took great gulps of air as she escaped from the vicarage and hurried off down the lane. Any moment, she expected to hear Betty running after her.

  She swung away from the Hopeminster road, keeping to little lanes and footpaths which would lead her to her destination by a circuitous route – and also add several miles to the length of her journey.

  Lord Harry’s phaeton and the vicar’s antique travelling carriage had been brought round in front of the church by the servants.

  Daphne once again had the honour of being driven by his lordship, torn between worry at the damage the wind would do to her complexion and the thrill of sporting a dash in such a handsome equipage.

  But Lord Harry seemed strangely reluctant to set his usual spanking pace and was content to amble along after the vicar’s carriage.

  Gradually, the woods on either side thinned out. Across the bare fields Lord Harry saw a figure dart behind a tree. He kept glancing in that direction, but only caught a glimpse of a head peering round the trunk.

  A frown settled on his forehead. He suddenly urged his team forward so that they passed the vicarage carriage and then, once in front of it, he slowed his team to a halt and waved his arm to signal to the vicarage carriage to stop also. He jumped lightly down and stood, holding his horses, while the vicar ambled up to him.

  ‘I’m afraid you will have to take Miss Daphne. One of my traces is in danger of breaking,’ he said. ‘I can fix it given some time and I will follow you into Hopeminster.’

  Normally, the vicar would have demanded to see the trace and would have offered all sorts of suggestions but Deirdre and his money problems were weighing heavy on his mind. Daphne was only too glad to get into the closed carriage so that she could study her face in her pocket glass and repair the damage done to her hair by the wind.

  Promising to see them all at the inn at Hopeminster, Lord Harry waved them all a cheerful goodbye. He stood in the middle of the road until the lumbering carriage had turned a bend and was hidden from view.

  Then he led his team back to the crossroads and looked about. Over the fields and far away, a little figure with two bandboxes was climbing over a stile. A gust of wind whipped the figure’s hat off and sent it bowling across the fields. Sunlight shone on a flash of red hair.

  He looked from the distant figure to the Hopeworth–Hopeminster crossroads and quietly led his team a little away and into a field. He unhitched his horses, setting them free to graze before he left the field, carefully shutting the gate behind him.

  There was a stand of alders a short way from the crossroads, set on a mound. He strolled into it. It afforded an excellent view of the crossroads and the surrounding fields.

  He leaned his back against the sun-warmed trunk of a tree and studied the little figure, laboriously crossing the fields. The figure grew larger and finally resolved itself into that of a dusty and dishevelled Deirdre Armitage.

  She had lost her hat and the wind was whipping her red hair about her face and she kept impatiently setting down the bandboxes and trying to pin it up.

  Deirdre finally reached the crossroads and sat wearily down on a milestone.

  Gradually the wind died and the sun grew warmer, and Deirdre Armitage waited patiently; hidden in his stand of alder trees, Lord Harry Desire waited patiently as well.

  The minutes grew into quarter-hours, half-hours, and then hours. As the sun sank lower on the horizon the little figure on the milestone grew more and more hunched and forlorn.

  Lord Harry straightened up and walked back to where his horses were quietly grazing. He hitched his team up to the phaeton again and led them out of the field towards where Deirdre sat patiently on the milestone.

  She did not even look up as he approached, but she must have sensed his presence for all she said in a dull voice was, ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘I had a minor accident to my phaeton,’ said Lord Harry cheerfully. ‘Ar
e you waiting for anyone? Or can I take you anywhere?’

  ‘No, I’m not waiting for anyone. That is, I’m waiting to see if my father will return from Hopeminster and take me home. I am so very tired, you see.’ Tears started to her eyes and she brushed them away with an impatient hand.

  ‘You would have a long wait,’ he said gently. ‘Your father spoke of taking supper at the Cock and Feathers before returning. Come and I will take you to join them.’

  ‘Only if I can return to the vicarage first,’ said Deirdre, thinking of that incriminating letter pinned to the pincushion. ‘I am such a mess. I was feeling so much better and decided to walk. I had these clothes, you see, to take to the poor of Hopeminster. But perhaps I should show them to my mother first.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said soothingly. ‘We will go to the vicarage first, and then we will go to Hopeminster.’

  Deirdre was too tired and miserable and humiliated to protest. He drove at a spanking pace, and, in no time at all, she was back home.

  Betty looked relieved to see her, and Deirdre dully wondered if the maid had begun to suspect anything. But Betty had obviously not been in her bedroom. Deirdre tore up the letter addressed to her mother, bathed her face, burst into tears, bathed her face again, changed her gown, and found a smart bonnet, and went wearily down the stairs to join Lord Harry.

  To her relief, he did not seem inclined to talk, his horses eating up the miles to Hopeworth and then to Hopeminster at a tremendous pace.

  The Armitage family was just sitting down to supper in a private parlour.

  Deirdre sent up a prayer that somehow Lord Harry would not mention finding her sitting on the milestone at the crossroads with two bandboxes. He was so stupid, he had easily accepted her story. But her father, she was sure, would not believe such a tale. Desperately she wished she had cautioned Lord Harry not to say anything. And what if Betty talked? But that wouldn’t be so bad. She could simply add on yet another lie and say she was sure Lady Edwin wanted old clothes. ‘But what old clothes have you got that would fill two whole bandboxes?’ her mother was sure to ask.

  So busy was she in forming lies and excuses, and so subsequently relieved was she when Lord Harry let everyone assume he had collected her from the vicarage that it was some time before the whole weight of depression and humiliation returned.