by Janet Todd
‘But he is not in his chamber.’ Mrs Manwaring shrieked her words, making no effort now to keep her voice low. ‘And where could he be at this time of night? Parker says—’
Miss Dawlish interrupted her and, from the rustling sound, seemed to be holding her back from pushing against the door. ‘Charlotte, it’s not like you to listen to servants’ gossip. You’re overwrought.’
Inside the room Lady Susan and Manwaring were frozen in postures a little less dramatic than those of a few moments earlier, but still thoroughly incriminating if viewed by an angry wife. Lady Susan used all her energy to stifle Manwaring’s noisy breathing.
Then Mrs Manwaring said something to her cousin they could not catch. A shuffling followed and Lady Susan discerned Miss Dawlish’s soothing tone. She thought she made out the words ‘in the morning’. They heard footsteps receding. No more sounds followed.
After a while Lady Susan began to move her body gingerly, keeping the whip over Manwaring’s mouth. She felt enlivened, even excited by the danger, but vexed with her lover for taking such risks. Was it his man Robert who had betrayed them? Or possibly Barton? The maid had to mend the clasps on her bodice, which were so often ripped. She must have suspected something. Also Lady Susan knew that Barton had been in the habit of boasting of her mistress’s superior charms, especially in houses where they had arrived without their own coach and horses. But why would her maid be disloyal now, what would she gain?
There was really no need to suspect anyone’s servant of more than the usual gossip, not even Mrs Manwaring’s Parker. Manwaring had been quite indiscreet enough to give them both away.
She resolved to mend matters next day. She’d come not only to appreciate the free accommodation and blue boudoir but also to adore the nightly exercises. Surely she could talk them both out of this predicament so that they could continue their delicious ritual.
As the silence deepened, Manwaring relaxed. He even made a move to continue their business. But, much as she felt inclined, Lady Susan knew the danger too great. ‘No, no,’ she insisted, ruffling his thick hair, ‘you must go now. Return to your chamber, put out your greatcoat, so that in the morning you will say you couldn’t sleep and went out into the grounds for a walk.’
‘In this weather?’ Manwaring stifled a laugh and reached for her. She pulled away.
‘Well, say you went to the stables to check something. Anything. But go now.’
Reluctantly he got up from the couch. They kissed, embraced hurriedly, then Manwaring gathered up his clothes and put the whip in his sleeve. All was silent and they listened for a moment to be sure. Then, carrying his shoes in one hand, he gently opened the door with the other.
Only when a gleam from a distant candle down the hallway caught the white of her eyes did he realise that he was looking directly at Miss Dawlish. She was standing quite still by the balustrade facing the door.
Chapter 7
It was very provoking, thought Lady Susan as she travelled through Hampshire in the Manwarings’ older chariot with the second coachman. He’d been given instructions to take her, Frederica, Barton and Jeffrey to a coaching inn at Reading and ensure that they had a post-chaise next morning to drive them to London. Has he, she wondered, been told that no one would much mind if he were to overturn us in a stream en route? There was something slightly mocking in his manner.
In all conscience, it had not been her fault. She’d been careful, she’d been ingratiating with the women and distantly charming to the men; initially she’d treated Manwaring in the same manner. But he had been overwhelmed and, to her surprise, he’d overwhelmed her. Even then, she had comported herself prudently. It was he who had been careless.
She looked at Frederica, who had closed her eyes. The girl must be sleeping. It was just as well. Lady Susan didn’t want to talk to her.
Keeping her eyes shut Frederica thought over events of the morning. Explaining nothing, her mother had simply announced that they were leaving and that she should hurry and dress. Barton would pack her things and Jeffrey would carry her box to the carriage.
Frederica feared sorely that they were going because the Manwarings had learnt of Sir James’s proposal. There’d clearly been some dispute between Lady Susan and Mrs Manwaring. Now she and her mother were being sent away in disgrace – for she didn’t doubt that their departure was disgraceful, the leave-taking so discourteous. None of the Manwarings had even appeared when they left the house. So different from their arrival when everyone had come out from the great old front door to welcome them with smiling faces and kind words. She kept her eyes closed and stifled a sob in a slight cough.
She was not sorry to be leaving Langford. She’d been profoundly relieved when Sir James went; his absence would, she’d hoped, change everything. But it hadn’t. The friendship with Mary could not recover. Mrs Manwaring had continued to look pale and pained and say hardly a word to her, and even Mr Manwaring, who’d been all smiles and jokes she rarely understood, had walked past her as if he didn’t want to be greeted. Everyone made her feel uncomfortable.
The only other clue to their going was a remark of her mother, who’d said to Miss Dawlish in the hallway, ‘I regret that we must leave you prematurely. Business in London calls us back.’ And Miss Dawlish had silently inclined her head, then mounted the stairs without a backward glance.
But what business could there be in town? Perhaps a letter had arrived privately to summon Lady Susan. If so, where were they going? They’d given up their rooms in Henrietta Street apparently, although this hadn’t been clear when they left.
Now there was only Madam Dacre’s Academy to anticipate. She’d been so used to liberty with her dear papa that she dreaded the confinement. Yet, as an alternative to life with a mother she seemed never to please, it was not now so appalling as it had once seemed. Her feelings towards Lady Susan had by now become thoroughly confused: part of her yearned to be like her mother, almost to be her, she was so beautiful; part wanted to be as far away from her as it was possible to be.
There was one other advantage of Madam Dacre’s Academy: if it was a kind of prison, it was at least one that Sir James could not enter.
Through slightly open eyes Frederica glanced at Lady Susan, who seemed bored but not at all distraught. She marvelled at her mother’s composure.
It was quite genuine. Despite the inconvenience, Lady Susan now considered no great harm had been done at Langford. Mrs Manwaring was no worse off than she’d been before. How could she expect to keep such a man as Manwaring, particularly when – and Lady Susan did flush a little as she thought of it – she clearly did not share his interests?
Something of the business would get out, of course. The changed demeanour of the coachman suggested that servants’ tongues had been wagging; in any case, ladies did not leave a comfortable house so hurriedly and with so little ceremony without there being a scandalous cause. But Charlotte Manwaring and her cousin would surely not want the matter bruited about – it was not in their interest to have the details talked of in town. Meanwhile the affair with Sir James, though suspended, was by no means hopeless. So, despite its frosty conclusion, all in all Lady Susan could look back with some satisfaction on her time in Langford.
Yet she was in a quandary as to lodgings. They could not go to their former rooms without paying what they owed and she was unsure whether to go to the trouble of taking more. For the moment she and Frederica would simply have to set up at White’s Hotel in the Strand.
Comfortably accommodated in the best rooms on the first floor – it was fortunately not a busy time of year – Lady Susan took stock. Now in London she didn’t feel quite as sanguine as she had on the journey, but she was far from downcast. It was embarrassing to be back in town before Christmas but the thing had to be faced. And, after all, Manwaring was worth it – the very thought of him warmed her. Only three months, but they’d been some of the pleasantest she’d lived.
So what to do? Frederica should be placed in the school,
that was clear. It was high time she was secreted where she could be boxed and coaxed into seeing what was good for her. With restraint she might come to value what Lady Susan had been at some pains to procure for her.
As for herself, she would ignore the warnings of Jack Fortuny and follow her instincts: she would gamble to win. Without knowing what to expect and why, she hoped there might be more money found from Norfolk.
When she rose next morning she received a most welcome piece of news. Alicia Johnson was at number 3 Edward Street. It was unfortunate that her husband was with her, but he had a useful habit of repairing to his club to drink coffee and read the latest papers. Although he’d again made Alicia promise not to receive her friend in their house, she would disobey him as soon as he left the premises.
There was certainly no point in trying to change his attitude, Lady Susan mused. He’d be even more thoroughly against her when he heard the rumours from Langford. And he hated Manwaring quite as much as he hated her. Why, as Charlotte Dawlish’s guardian, had he not prevented the match? It was hard to think of poor Charlotte being impetuous and, even if madly in love, eloping or marrying without her guardian’s consent. But so it must have been. Still, she reflected again, Charlotte Manwaring would not be eager to tell her guardian what had occurred, unless she had an hysterical fit and poured it all out. No woman liked recounting how she had been betrayed.
At the hour when Mr Johnson usually set off to his club Lady Susan took a chair and went to visit her friend in Edward Street. Alicia embraced her warmly. ‘My dear, I have longed to see you this age. Come sit. You must tell me all the news.’
Lady Susan smiled. ‘And there is much to tell Alicia. I have been wondering if your husband had heard some of it already.’
‘If he has, he has told me nothing – and that would be most unusual,’ was the reply.
‘Well, when he does, be sure to show you know nothing. Let him continue to blame Charlotte Dawlish for an imprudent marriage.’
‘Can I guess what you are about to say?’
‘In part, perhaps.’
‘And you think Mr Johnson may have heard? Should we try to put something in his mind?’
‘No use,’ replied Lady Susan. ‘You know he hates me. He’s so very respectable.’
‘True on both counts,’ said Alicia.
Lady Susan settled herself in the newly upholstered sofa, all striped blue and yellow satin. As on her last visit, she eyed it with some but not complete satisfaction. It would, she thought, be difficult seating only those people whose colours would not clash. She would have chosen a dark green instead of the almost gaudy yellow. But it went well with the spaniel Chubb’s colouring; she wondered if Alicia had suited the material to the dog. Clearly she adored the creature.
The butler and a footman delivered the tea things, urn, jug, sugar bowl, cups and saucers, as well as a decanter of something that looked like ratafia.
‘Good gossip needs fortification,’ smiled Alicia.
‘Well go on,’ she said when the servants had left the room. ‘You had intended staying at Langford all autumn and winter, now you are back in London after only three months. And if I’m not mistaken you are planning to flit again. I doubt it was town that brought you back, however glittering. You know perhaps that Lord Gamestone has been seen with that younger Pulteney girl?’
Mrs Johnson was blending the tea from the satinwood caddy, putting rather more green than black into the mix, as she knew her friend liked.
‘I didn’t know – actually I’d meant to ask about the matter – but it’s of no importance. And, yes, no, you are right: it was only three months.’ She paused and sipped her tea. ‘But what months,’ she put her dish down and leaned back luxuriously, ‘I have scarcely had more pleasure.’
‘Pleasure, your ladyship,’ laughed Mrs Johnson. ‘Surely there were no gaming tables at Langford?’
‘There was a little play. But the stakes were never high. In any case, as the grieving widow I could hardly play to win in the countryside. A certain negligence was demanded of me – even when I could see my advantage. No, there was a pleasure beyond the cards.’
‘You didn’t …’ Alicia Johnson stopped and gave a loud laugh.
‘Ah, but I did.’
Mrs Johnson poured them each a glass of ratafia. ‘This calls for something beyond the most fragrant tea.’
She handed the glass to her friend who held it up against the candles already burning in the dark day. ‘So you turned all their heads?’
‘Oh no, by no means. I did not flirt at all. Well, only enough to remove that booby Sir James from where he had no business grazing. And if Frederica had had an ounce of common sense about her she could now have been on her way to becoming Lady Martin.’
She drank fully, then stretched out the empty glass to be refilled. ‘This is remarkably good, dear Alicia. I detect a fine brandy at its base. I sometimes think that girl will be on my hands for life.’
‘He didn’t fancy her then?’
‘Oh by the end he did. He couldn’t take his eyes off her – or his hands. He rather looked towards me for a while, but I pretended not to notice and steered him towards Frederica. After copious hints he began to look where I pointed, then began to fancy himself in love – and the love, despite positive discouragement from my idiot daughter, burgeoned.’
‘So you have him?’
‘Well, not entirely. My dear Frederica felt some loyalty to the gawky Manwaring girl. She has a lot to learn of the world. By her age—’
‘By her age, Susan, you were a most accomplished coquette.’
Lady Susan laughed, but Alicia Johnson thought there was a little hesitation. She’d meant to compliment her friend. She wondered if Susan were remembering her younger self. But she’d married well, if not brilliantly. There could be no regrets.
She was still musing over the past when she realised that Lady Susan was talking in a dreamy tone, quite unusual for her. ‘I cannot imagine you being anywhere without turning heads,’ interrupted Alicia Johnson.
‘No no,’ replied Lady Susan growing alert again. ‘No flirtations I assure you. Something more.’
‘Aha, Manwaring, of course, among your many conquests. It was inevitable. Did poor Charlotte notice?’
Lady Susan didn’t reply at once. She sipped her second glass, then raised its red stem to catch the candlelight. A weak sun shone through a flurry of snowflakes and reflected the red on to her breast.
You are lovely, thought Alicia Johnson, quite without jealousy. There was a glow about her friend, a self-satisfaction that she’d not discerned before. As for herself she knew that any sort of alcohol made her face crimson rather than glowing; it meant that she could not keep her predilection from her spouse.
Lady Susan leaned forward. ‘Do you remember how we used to pleasure each other in Miss Delany’s?’
‘I do, most definitely,’ replied Mrs Johnson. ‘It was a long time ago but it’s hard to let go the memory, especially when nothing much of that sort has taken its place. Sometimes it seems a pity we are no longer girls.’
‘A pity,’ cried Lady Susan. ‘And do you never have pleasure with your husband?’
‘What can you mean?’ Alicia Johnson was unused to embarrassment with her friend but she reddened a little – or was it the wine? She couldn’t tell.
‘Those were girls’ tricks you know, Susan. We are grown women now, we could be grandmamas.’
‘Well, just so,’ replied Lady Susan. ‘But thankfully we are not. Are you saying that that pleasure, what we once had in school, is not part of what you have – though richer of course, it goes without saying, a man and a woman …’ She trailed off and smiled at her friend.
Alicia Johnson was silent for a moment. ‘I think I may know what you are saying. You are asking if I have the pleasure a man gets in bed and the answer would have to be, no.’ She looked serious for a moment, then continued. ‘And I haven’t missed it. A man is for something else, dear Susan.’
> Her friend threw back her head and laughed. It was as good as winning at quadrille at four in the morning when everyone was heated.
‘Perhaps if there had been fine tables at Langford, I would never have encouraged Manwaring. Is that what you think?’ She laughed again.
‘I don’t compare them,’ said Alicia Johnson smiling back.
‘Indeed not.’
Jack Fortuny was in town, and only a day or two after she’d arrived Lady Susan met him at Lady Harriet’s tables. He knew at once that she’d had an interesting time at Langford.
‘I can tell,’ he said. ‘I can always tell.’
‘I expect you can.’ She smiled broadly in the way she let herself do to only a few people, ‘Jack, it was like winning at cards for days on end with the gold flowing.’
‘I can see that it was, your ladyship.’ He pretended mockery, then became serious. ‘But take care.’
‘I do take care of myself, as you know.’
‘I am not sure you do. A widow is more vulnerable than a wife.’ Again she noticed with surprise his new seriousness.
‘Oh come, Jack, dear Frederick was never exactly my protector – nor did I need one.’
‘You are magnificent, of course,’ smiled Jack Fortuny, then added and not as an afterthought, ‘but don’t be too sure.’
She’d turned to speak to a friend who’d brushed her arm and before she could reply Jack Fortuny had moved away. The room was brightly lit with candles on the tables and in sconces on the longer walls, but the corners were in shadow. Lady Susan was not especially concerned to know who lurked or watched but she was conscious that Jack Fortuny had gone from the light into the shadow and was talking to someone who appeared to her weak eyes as a large dark smudge.
She wondered what he’d meant. Presumably he didn’t want to compromise her reputation by being seen in intimate talk now she was a widow. But the supposed scandal of her liaison with this man was old history. Perhaps his own marginal state made him over cautious.