Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption

by Veryan, Patricia

Lisette awoke to the sounds of strife. She pushed back the faded bedcurtains and was blinded by early morning sunlight. She thought, A nice day, thank goodness, and stepped into her furred slippers. Another rageful shriek, followed by shouts of boyish laughter, rent the air. Judith and Norman. Again! Lisette hurried into the hall casting a fearful glance towards the front of the house, but as yet the doors to the front bedchambers remained tightly closed.

  His cherubic face alight with mirth and mischief, Norman shot past her and began to pound down the stairs. Lisette leaned over the railing and hissed, "What have you done?" then jumped aside, a shoe barely missing her as it hurtled after her brother's retreating form.

  Judith, armed with another shoe and a slipper, launched them one after the other, while screaming animadversions upon her brother's character. Her zeal and indignation were dimmed only by the arrival on the scene of Mrs. Van Lindsay, clad in cap and wrapper, whose demands for an explanation of "this disgraceful behaviour" were echoed by her life's companion, who hove into view wearing a bright red dressing gown and with his thinning brown hair all on end—as Judith later giggled to Lisette—"like the bristles of a worn brush."

  To be rudely awakened for any cause upset Humphrey Van Lindsay, and to be rudely awakened before nine o'clock in the morning had thrown him into a passion. He was a large man with a larger voice, given to making hasty judgments and adhering to them with bulldog tenacity, so that there were many" who considered him to merit a brilliant future in politics. There were others, of course, who considered him to be a loud-mouthed idiot and an intolerable snob. The latter charge, at least, was justified. Humphrey was almost as conscious of social position as was his spouse and considered that in wedding Philippa Bayes-Copeland he had pulled off the coup of the century (an opinion she shared). She was the only person who could manoeuvre him, which she did with firmness and regularity, and being well suited they enjoyed a reasonably happy marriage, despite their precarious monetary situation. There was little evidence of connubial bliss at the moment, however, for between Mrs. Van Lindsay's strident demands for an explanation, Judith's decision that her safest course was to launch into hysterics, and Humphrey's bellowing rage, the scene more nearly resembled bedlam.

  Experienced in such fiascos, Lisette said two magical words: "The servants!" At once, the elder Van Lindsays stifled their rancour. They all adjourned to Judith's bedroom and closed the door.

  "Will you stop, Judith?" Philippa enquired. "Or must I slap you?"

  Thus appealed to, Judith lowered her shrieks a few decibels to spasmodic sobs, between which she opined that her brother was a hideous brute, a sadistic savage, and the greatest beast in nature. "Look," she wept, holding up a much folded piece of tissue paper. "Only look what he d-did! It is a pattern of Ruth MacKay's new party dress. Elinor copied it for me, and—and Norman met her last evening and p-prom-promised to give it me. But—look! Look!"

  Snorting his wrath, her sire opened the pattern. This took a few minutes and seemed to involve an inordinate amount of paper. "Good… gad!" he breathed, holding up what must only be a garment for a giant. "Surely, this is the wrong size, Judith?"

  His daughter uttered a new shriek of rageful chagrin and cast herself on the bed. Over her recumbent form, the eyes of her sister and her mama met, alight with guilty laughter. Recovering herself, Philippa snatched the paper from her spouse's hands. "Of course it is not her size, Mr. Van Linsday!"

  Humphrey had seen the twinkle in her eyes, and mirth crept into his own.

  "Er—oh!" he said. "I see the light. Copied it, did he?"

  "And enlarged it, Papa," Lisette nodded, stroking her sister's tangled hair comfortingly.

  "Yes. I can—ah, tell he's spread it out a bit," he chortled.

  "By a good four sizes!" said Mrs. Van Lindsay.

  "Four!" howled the maligned Judith. "Forty, more like! I am not that fat, Papa! I am not!"

  "Norman," said Mrs. Van Lindsay sternly, "must be spoken to, sir."

  "Quite so. Yes, I'll—ah—see if I can find the lad…" And Humphrey deserted the scene in favour of his bedchamber, whence soon emanated gales of laughter.

  Mrs. Van Lindsay proceeded to make it clear to her stricken offspring that while she did not approve of Norman's teasing, Judith should perhaps consider that the model he had been attempting to construct in the bottle might well have meant as much to him as did the dress pattern to Judith. "One thing," she murmured to Lisette, as she walked to the door, "it has put your father into a very good humour, which is more than I'd hoped for when first I heard that uproar!"

  Mr. Humphrey's good humour endured, and later that morning, when Lisette was summoned to the drawing room, she found him awaiting her, his broad features wreathed in smiles. "How pretty you look, child," he beamed. "Come and chat with your papa for a few moments."

  Lisette sat obediently, but whatever he had in mind he evidently hesitated to broach, for during the next ten minutes he spoke only of commonplaces, asked her twice if she was happy, and commenting three times on the charm of "that pink gown." Refraining from pointing out that her muslin was peach-coloured, not pink, Lisette began to be uneasy. Papa was nervous, which must mean he had something unpleasant to say. She was mildly relieved when Powers appeared and announced that Mr. Garvey was belowstairs. Lisette prepared to leave, but her father requested that the caller be shown up, adding as the butler took his lugubrious countenance from sight, "This is a happy coincidence, m'dear. Mr. Garvey has been plaguing me for an introduction. Now's as good a time as any, eh?"

  "Is the gentleman Mr. James Garvey, Papa? The Regent's friend?"

  Humphrey chuckled. "Clever little puss. You know I do not usually cultivate the Carlton House set. You're right, but James is a good enough man. He can trace his house back almost as far as our own. Came into a considerable fortune some years ago, when his father went to his reward. James has been in Europe for several months, but I make no doubt you will recall having seen him at this or that occasion, for he is very—Ah, good morning, good morning, my dear fellow!" Humphrey rose and walked to extend a hand to his guest. "You chose a fortunate moment, James," he said heartily. "M'daughter and I were enjoying a cose. Lisette, I present Mr. James Garvey. James, this is my middle daughter. You know Beatrice, I believe. Don't think you've met our Lisette."

  Lisette made her curtsey to a dapper gentleman of about five and thirty. He was not above average height, but well proportioned, and with a head of thickly curling dark hair that was gracefully bowed before her. She thought, as he straightened, that he was quite the dandy, for his shirt points were very high, his cravat a masterpiece, and his blue jacket extremely well cut. A green and blue brocaded waistcoat complemented the jacket neatly, and his pearl-grey inexpressibles were beyond reproach. Two fobs and a seal hung at his trim waist, and a large sapphire flashed on one hand. Unbidden, the recollection darted into her mind that Tristram Leith had never worn fobs or seals, the only jewellery she had ever seen him affect being his heavy gold signet ring…

  Her gaze drifting back to the visitor's face, she encountered a stunned look in his fine green eyes. He murmured in a bewildered manner, "Jove, sir! You said your daughter was lovely, but—I never dreamt—" He faltered into silence.

  Lisette blushed and was both pleased and puzzled, for she had the distinct impression it was not at all what he had intended to say. She lowered her eyes, paying little heed to the polite pleasantry of her father's response. When she looked up, Mr. Garvey had recovered his air of sophisticated assurance. His admiration was obvious, but he displayed it now with a light-hearted effusiveness that was a balm to her bruised spirit. She was, he said, as pretty and sparkling as this beautiful morning. She would, did she venture outside, quite put the sunlight to shame with her radiance. Lisette was startled, and slanted a glance at her papa, who would have flown into a rage had she told him one of her beaux had made such bold remarks on first acquaintance, but Mr. Van Lindsay seemed no whit put out.

  Mr. Garvey was aware of he
r reaction, however, and at once addressed himself to her parent. "My groom is walking my horses this very moment, sir. Have I your leave to ask that your daughter accompany me on a short drive?"

  Mr. Van Lindsay never drove in the park save during the fashionable late afternoon, and up went his brows. "At this hour?"

  "No time like the present," said Mr. Garvey with a smile. And receiving permission, begged that Miss Van Lindsay do him the honour of accompanying him. All the time, his eyes twinkled at her, and a dimple that came and went beside his mouth was quite attractive, she decided. Garvey's close friendship with the Regent made him a powerful man, and he was much admired by the ladies. It would be quite a feather in her cap to be seen with him. And if Colonel the Honourable Tristram Leith chanced to ride by, she would lift her nose at him and show the ton how little she cared that he had wed another! With a shy smile she accepted, and hurried upstairs for bonnet and shawl.

  Judith, quite transformed from the howling banshee of two hours previously, danced around the upper landing in triumph. "Only think!" she cried, clinging to Lisette's hand, "James Garvey! Ruth MacKay is fairly gooseflesh whenever she mentions him! I knew you would make a recover, Lisette! I knew it! Oh, how proud—"

  "Lisette!" hissed Mrs. Van Lindsay from the open bedchamber door. "Come here, child. Now, you must wear the bonnet with the cherry flowers."

  "But, Mama, will it not clash with the peach?"

  "No, no." Already, Philippa was arranging the dainty straw upon her daughter's sleek head. "Ugh! Horrid! It clashes dreadfully. As I thought. Well, we must—Sandy? Where is the woman?"

  Louise Sanders, who had been personal maid and dresser to the mistress of the house and her daughters, and "Sandy" for as long as any occupant of 359 Portland Place could recall, emerged from the wardrobe, her plain but pleasant face triumphant as she unwrapped silver paper from a wide-brimmed straw confection having a cluster of faded orange silk roses at one side, and long brown velvet ribbons that fell from the crown to tie under the chin, causing the brim to poke high. "I knew it was in there somewhere," she exulted. "You remember, missus, you wore it only once and stuck it away—must be three or four years since."

  "But—it is so faded," demurred Lisette.

  "No, no—it don't look faded," her sister said eagerly. "Only dust it a little, Sandy, and when it is worn next to that peach gown, Lisette, everyone will suppose it made for it."

  As wild a tomboy as she was, Judith had an infallible eye for colour, and it did not err in this case. The bonnet that looked faded to those who remembered the bright orange of the original blooms seemed perfectly matched when worn with the peach muslin. Judith, who had been scrabbling frenziedly through a drawer of the chest, now produced a cream silk shawl with an intricately knotted fringe, which perfectly finished the ensemble, and when Sanders had provided a sunshade and long cream kid gloves, Lisette was ready.

  "Remember, now," urged Mrs. Van Lindsay, "should you meet the Prince, have a care; he's a wicked fellow for the ladies. In point of fact, I'm not at all sure that James Garvey is all he should be. But, such a fine old family, love, and ten thousand a year, if he's a penny!"

  There came a frantic scratching at the door. Sanders hurried to open it, and Norman, his boyish face flushed and excited, rushed in. "Hello, Mama! Lisette, d'you know who is downstairs with my father?"

  "James Garvey," mocked Judith, curtseying. "Everyone knows who is downstairs, stupid boy!"

  Mrs. Van Lindsay said a stern, "That will do, Judith. Mr. Garvey has come to take your sister out driving, Norman. I trust you behaved properly to the gentleman?"

  "Garvey called for Lisette? But—he's a nonpareil! They say he and Prinny are thick as thieves. And besides, I thought Lisette had a tendre for—" Here, catching Judith's enraged scowl and the flash of his mother's warning glance, he was dumb.

  The sad light returned to Lisette's eyes. With her hand on the doorknob she turned back. "Tendre—for whom, Norman?"

  Mrs. Van Lindsay said an urgent, "Pay no heed to the foolish child. Run along, do, or Mr. Garvey will be quite out of patience!"

  Walking to the stairs, Lisette wondered ruefully if Mr. Garvey suspected the excitement his lineage and ten thousand a year had evoked in the Van Lindsay family.

  "Oh, how beautiful she looks," sighed Sanders, as the door closed upon her favourite.

  "The very essence of feminine charm," murmured Judith, her eyes dreaming.

  "Like a side of beef to be sold," snorted Norman, revolted.

  Judith gave a squeak of outrage. Sanders glanced apprehensively at her mistress. "What… did you say?" demanded Mrs. Van Lindsay, awfully.

  Scarlet, Norman stammered, "I said—er, one should hide grief, I—hold."

  Sanders smothered a grin and turned quickly away. Judith, glaring, met a mutely pleading gaze, pursed her lips, and was silent.

  "Hmmnnn…" said Mrs. Van Lindsay.

  Chapter 2

  Mr. Garvey owned a splendid team of matched bays and a well-sprung phaeton of a dusky blue, picked out with paler blue, and having pale blue squabs. Noting that the gentleman also wore those colours, Lisette felt somewhat at odds with the decor, and wondered if he changed his vehicles to match his attire, or vice versa. He assured himself that his fair charge was comfortably settled, took the reins from his groom, dismissed the man, and drove off, feathering the corner neatly.

  It was a glorious morning, the air washed clean by the rain and the temperature beginning at last to feel like Spring. Many people were out, and it appeared that Mr. Garvey knew or was known by them all. He was an easy conversationalist, maintaining a pleasant flow of chatter even as he bowed, waved, or smiled upon this or that passing carriage. In Hyde Park they encountered Lady Jersey, enjoying an early drive with the Countess Lieven. Lady Jersey smiled warmly on Lisette and ordered her groom to pull up the horses, but her eyes then alighting on Garvey, the smile in them died. A tiny frown touching her brows, she glanced again at Lisette, lifted one gloved hand in polite salute and told the groom to drive on.

  Garvey chuckled. "Pray do not feel that slight was on any account but my own, ma'am. 'The Silence' don't approve of your escort."

  She looked at him uncertainly. "Surely you mistake it. I know she chatters, but she is the kindest person."

  "To you, who could be otherwise? She considers me a bad influence on our beloved Regent." He shrugged and added whimsically, "One might suppose that Prinny, au contraire, corrupts me!"

  "Were one to judge by rumour—" Lisette laughed—"your point would be well taken, sir."

  "And do you judge by rumours, Miss Van Lindsay?"

  "I try not to be influenced by idle gossip, but I confess that sometimes there is so much of it, one cannot help but wonder."

  "I beg you will not allow my Lady Jersey to prejudice you against me." He smiled roguishly. "I really am not so very wicked, and—good God! What the deuce has poor Bolster got with him?"

  Two gentlemen occupied the approaching curricle. The man driving was young, sturdily built, and having a pleasant, ruddy-complected countenance. Beside him sat one of the biggest and ugliest bulldogs Lisette had ever seen, and she watched the animal, fascinated.

  Garvey called, "What have you there, Bolster?"

  Both vehicles came to a halt. Lord Jeremy Bolster snatched off his hat, revealing straight hair gleaming pale yellow in the sunlight. "It's Br-Br-Brutus, Garvey," he stammered, his abashed gaze flickering to Lisette.

  "An unlovely brute. 'Ware, Jeremy, lest it devour you!"

  Bolster grinned, bowed jerkily to Lisette, and took up the reins once more. His companion had been turned away exchanging pleasantries with another rider. He now swung around, and Lisette encountered a pair of very blue eyes that stared at her from a gaunt face, the darkly bronzed skin seeming to accentuate that piercing regard. They were past then, and she looked straight ahead, wondering why she felt so shaken. Rather belatedly she became aware that Garvey was making a remark. To allow one's attention to wander whil
st with a gentleman could be fatal, besides being most ill-mannered. "Oh, I do beg your pardon," she apologized. "I fear my thoughts were on that most unattractive creature."

  "You're very frank, ma'am." He laughed. "Strand ain't a beauty, I'll own."

  Strand! No wonder that searing scrutiny had made her so uneasy! Some part of her mind must have remembered what Judith had said of him. She had gone on to remark that he was not exactly a handsome man, or words to that effect. Handsome! That he most certainly was not! Did his notorious sister resemble him, one could only pity poor Tristram Leith for he must have lost all sense of good judgement and— The foolish incident had so discomposed her that she'd not taken heed of the balance of Mr. Garvey's remark, but now his words came back to her and, blushing, she exclaimed a dismayed, "Oh, no! You cannot think I referred to Mr. Strand? You must not—" She saw the teasing glint in his eyes then, and, with a little laugh scolded, "Ah, so you roast me, sir! You knew very well that I meant the bulldog."

  He chuckled. "Forgive, dear lady. I certainly knew you could not refer to Bolster. Ope can but hope the brute may prove of comfort to the poor fellow, for he has taken his loss very hard. But I expect you know the story?"

  Know the story? Of course she knew the story! Rachel Strand had stolen the man she loved, and now the wretched woman's sinister brother had dared to ogle her as if she were a common— but Garvey was speaking of Lord Bolster, not Justin Strand. She must be wits to let for her mind to wander so! Her cheeks hot, she confessed her ignorance and begged to be enlightened.

  "Most gladly. I am sure you will remember the sensation last autumn when Lucian St. Clair came to grips with that revolting trafficker in White Slavery? He called himself the Dandy Lion, but was in fact a member of the Quality."

  "Yes! Oh, yes, I do!" Her indignation forgotten, Lisette clasped her hands, her dark eyes sparkling as she recalled the dramatic events that had set all London agog. "Papa never did tell me the whole, but I know there was a dreadful fight, no? It was all very exciting!"