‘Gone,’ said Harry briefly. ‘You won’t see him again tonight. Barraclough made it more than clear that he wasn’t wanted. In fact, I doubt we’ll ever hear any more of the fellow. It would take a braver man then Arandez to ignore Barraclough, I can tell you.’
‘Good. Could you find Mrs Barraclough for me, while I stay here with Lisette?’
But Lisette joined them at the door. ‘I’d rather you didn’t. Aunt Julia will only make a fuss. If Ricardo has gone I should like to come down again, if I may.’ She smiled at Harry. ‘I’d like to thank Lieutenant Petrie for looking after me. And…I still haven’t had any of those lovely looking refreshments.’
Octavia looked on in amazement as Lisette, who had seemed on the point of collapse just a few minutes before, smiled even more widely at Harry and said, ‘Will you wait for me? I need to tidy myself a little first.’
Harry nodded, and she disappeared.
Octavia raised both her eyebrows at her brother, then shut the door and went to help Lisette.
‘Are you sure you’re well enough?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m not nervous when Harry—Lieutenant Petrie is with me.’
‘You can call him Harry to me, my dear,’ said Octavia with amusement. ‘But don’t let your uncle hear you! I have to say you’re looking a lot better than you did.’
‘It’s as you said, Lady Octavia. Now I’ve told Ricardo, I feel happier than I’ve been for a long time. I’m free of him at last!’ She paused, then said shyly, ‘And Harry is even nicer than I remembered.’
‘I’m glad you think so—I’m quite fond of him myself. But you must still go carefully with your uncle. There’s no reason why Harry shouldn’t have his approval, but there does seem to be a certain reluctance about him!’
‘He’ll come round. As you say, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t, and Aunt Julia approves. Shall we go down?’
Lisette opened the door, took Harry’s arm and started off down the stairs. The difference in Lisette, her composure, her air of serene confidence was almost unbelievable! Was this all it had taken? To confess to Ricardo Arandez that she no longer loved him? Octavia’s expression was wistful as she watched the two go down to join the company. It looked as if for them at least there would be a happy ending.
She went back into her own room, shut the door and leaned against it. Solitude at last! The pain in her heart was getting worse. Edward Barraclough had admitted that he loved her, and in the same breath had taken away all hope that he could ever think of marrying her. What a stupid, stupid man he was! A sob escaped her, though her eyes were dry. What was she to do? Certainly not join the crowds downstairs again—Gussie’s guests must do without her. This feeling of hurt was like a physical injury, which no balm could reach, nothing could alleviate. And to disguise the pain, to pretend that she felt nothing, was beyond her just for the moment. She needed time to overcome it….
Some one else was filled with pain and anger, and was less willing to suffer without taking revenge. Arandez was no longer able to convince himself that Lisette loved him, but he had by no means given her up. The prize was too rich and too lovely to be given up without a struggle. For the moment she was too well protected for him to get near her, but while she remained unmarried there was hope. His chance would come, he was sure.
But as time went on he found that the word had gone round. Fewer and fewer drawing rooms were open to him, and he was tempted more and more to seek his amusements in the sub-world of London society, a world that catered for the more depraved appetites. But the deeper he sank, the more he craved revenge. He began to promise himself that Lisette would be sorry for what she had done to him, sorrier than she realised. He had tried to deal honourably with her, but she had thrown his honour back in his face. The more gentle approach—persuasion, reproaches, his affecting stories about her father—had proved useless. Force was the only answer—as it was with all women in the end. His chance would come, and then she would pay…He went back to his underworld and bided his time, and urged his servants meanwhile to keep a vigilant watch on her movements.
After that evening Octavia had little or no contact with Edward Barraclough—no more confidences, no more arguments, not even about Harry. It was not difficult to avoid him. There were plenty of gentlemen only too willing to escort Lady Octavia, dance with Lady Octavia, talk to Lady Octavia, and in her own way she was having almost as great a success as Lisette. She showed the world a brave face, and no one suspected that Lady Octavia’s heart was slowly breaking.
But as the Season wore on, and London got warmer and dustier, she began to think of Wychford, its greenery, its lake, the cool shadows among its trees and longed to go back there. The Barracloughs’ six-month tenure was over and the house was now available to her. Her task in London was finished. Pip had her governess, Lisette had been launched as successfully as anyone could have wished, and it was now generally acknowledged that she and Harry Petrie would probably make a match of it.
Everyone, it seemed, was happy except herself. Life in London was just as stale, her admirers just as predictable, as they had been five years before, and this time the effort of keeping up appearances was proving harder with every day that passed. In the end she could bear it no longer; when the excuse to leave London came her way, she seized it eagerly.
It came during a visit to the Barracloughs in South Audley Street. Harry was as usual deep in conversation with Lisette, and Octavia was left talking to Julia. Her fortitude was sorely tested as Julia went into a long diatribe about Edward Barraclough’s behaviour.
‘He has never taken his responsibilities as seriously as I should have liked, but I have never known him as bad as this! He is the talk of London! I cannot imagine what has happened to him. Anyone would think he was deliberately trying to let the family down. He drinks and gambles to excess, and from what Henry tells me he is spending a fortune on that…that harpy of his!’ Then, probably realising that she had been indiscreet, Julia said hastily, ‘Not that I know about that sort of thing, of course. No decent woman would!’
At last, to Octavia’s profound relief, Julia left the subject of Edward Barraclough’s misdemeanours and turned to the rest of the family. But what she had to say was not much more comforting. She was worried about Pip.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Octavia. ‘I thought she looked a little pale the last time I saw her! Is she ill?’
‘Not exactly, but I’m afraid London doesn’t suit her at all. She is forever talking of Wychford. Her governess has been very good—she has taken the child to all the sights she can think of, but you know Philippa. She has so much energy, and yet the heat and dust are sometimes too much even for her. London is not the best place for a child of her age and inclination. I don’t know how we shall deal with her when Miss Cherrifield goes away.’
‘Goes away? I thought she would stay as long as you needed her?’
‘Oh, she will return. But it was arranged before she came to us that we would release her for three weeks at the beginning of May. What Philippa will do without her I cannot imagine! I have no time to spend on her. My time is taken up with looking after Lisette. That scoundrel Arandez is still in London, and Edward and Henry insist that she must be chaperoned wherever she goes. Your brother is very good, of course. He spends a great deal of time with her.’ She threw a fond glance at Lisette and Harry, sitting on the other side of the room. ‘I think there’ll be a match there, don’t you? But I can’t even leave them unchaperoned for too long. Which means I have very little time for Philippa.’
Octavia thought for a moment, then said, ‘May I look after Pip while Miss Cherrifield is away? I am thinking of going down to Wychford and would be delighted if she could come with me.’
Julia regarded her with surprise. ‘You want to leave London? Before the end of the Season?’
Octavia nodded her head. ‘Shocking, isn’t it? But I would love to leave London, in fact. Pip’s company would be an additional attraction. Would she come to Wychford?’<
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‘I am very sure she would—she never stops talking of the place.’ Julia’s tone conveyed her own opinion of Wychford.
‘Well, then, shall we consider it settled? In a week’s time, you said? Perfect! And…Pip can stay as long as you can spare her. Miss Cherrifield could even join us down there when she comes back. I doubt I shall return to London once I leave.’
‘Lady Octavia, it would be a godsend! I cannot say how grateful we should be! Are you sure?’
‘Quite!’
‘Let me send for Philippa so that you can tell her yourself.’
Octavia was concerned when she saw Pip. The air of crackling energy that had so attracted her was considerably diminished, and Pip’s welcome, though enthusiastic, was less exuberant than it usually was. But when she heard of Octavia’s invitation she went pale with excitement.
‘You mean it? You really mean it? Oh, Miss Petrie, I mean, Lady Octavia, how good you are! Lisette, did you hear? I’m to go back to Wychford!’
Many were considerably surprised, of course, at Lady Octavia Petrie’s decision. Gussie was extremely put out, and Octavia had a hard time reconciling her to the idea, but she remained firm. She was tired of London, and had no desire to hear any more gossip about Edward Barraclough. She suspected that he was doing his best to forget her, and she had no desire to be there when he succeeded and the secret, silken bond that had held him to her was finally broken.
So, after a busy week, Octavia, Pip and a small retinue of servants travelled down to Wychford. As they drove up the drive Pip could hardly restrain her excitement.
‘Look, Miss Petrie, look! It’s laughing!’ She turned round. ‘I’m sorry, I mean, Lady Octavia.’
Octavia laughed and put her arm round Pip. ‘Call me what you wish, Pip. I shan’t mind.’ She looked out. ‘I do believe you’re right!’
It was sunny, but there was a slight breeze and the leafy branches along the way were swaying and dancing in the air. Their shadows, reflected in the windows of Wychford, gave the house an air of merriment, and Octavia felt a lift of heart. There would always be Wychford.
Mrs Dutton was waiting, and took the news that the owner of Wychford was ‘Miss Petrie’ with a comfortable smile and the comment, ‘I always suspected there was something about you, my lady! We all hope you’ll be happy with what we’ve done to the house. The repairs to the staircase went very well, though the men still don’t understand what happened. It seems to be quite safe now, though. I’ve put Miss Philippa in the tower room, but I wasn’t sure which room you would prefer. I’ve prepared both the main bedroom and your old one, as well.’
Octavia looked at Pip’s pleading eyes and said, ‘I’ll sleep in my old room, Mrs Dutton, thank you.’
Soon they had both settled in and busied themselves exploring their domain, and if Octavia was less deliriously happy than her little guest, she found a measure of peace. But she never suggested that they should go up the stairs to the room at the top of the tower. When Pip asked about it, she said vaguely that she thought the key had been lost.
In London, meanwhile, Edward Barraclough was fighting a losing battle. He had seen very little of Octavia after the scene in the Monteiths’ library, and whenever they did meet her manner was so different that she hardly seemed the same person. It was as if an invisible wall of ice separated them. She had clearly drawn a line under their long and curiously close relationship, and he was now seeing the Lady Octavia Petrie the world knew. Charming, well-mannered, and indifferent. A cool customer, as Stainforth had said. He ought to have been happy it was so, but in fact he could hardly bear it.
When he heard that Octavia was intending to leave London it took considerable strength of will not to hurry round to the Monteiths’ house to see her, but he had resisted the temptation. What could he say to her? Beg her to stay, to smile at him, to talk to him in her old way, to be his Octavia once more? Not while he was as determined as ever to avoid the trap of marriage. No, she had the right idea. Better that she should go, better that he should no longer be reminded of how it had been between them, better that he shouldn’t catch sight of the proud lift of her head, her honey-gold curls on the other side of a room, and be seduced all over again. Better by far to let her go. Once she was out of sight he would forget her, he was sure. That was all it needed—her absence, and a little time.
But time proved him wrong. London was a desert without her, and life hardly worth living. Louise was no comfort, and after something of a scene he parted company with her. It wasn’t long before she found someone else. Gambling lost its fascination, too, and even the cut and thrust of banking seemed a joyless affair. He lost patience with the Foreign Office, and after offending several important gentlemen there he left them to their own devices.
He viewed Lisette’s evident happiness with Harry with a jaundiced eye, but could find nothing to object to in it, and decided after an uncomfortable search of his conscience that he was chiefly envious. When Harry asked for permission to pay his addresses to Lisette, Edward was just able to pull himself together and give his consent with reasonably good grace.
That same evening he went back to his house in North Audley Street and, as the fire died down and the house grew silent, he sat steadily drinking brandy and contemplating the wreck of his well-planned, well-organised life. What had happened? Just last September he had walked through Berkeley Square, pitying poor Trenton for having to marry, and congratulating himself on his own untrammelled, carefree existence. What had gone wrong? Why did it no longer seem sufficient?
After a while his mind turned to another problem that was occupying him, namely the behaviour of Ricardo Arandez. The fellow was being seen less and less in Society’s drawing rooms, though he was still in London. After the warning he had been given in the Monteiths’ winter garden, this was hardly surprising. But where was he spending his time? And why was he still in England, now that it was clear he had lost Lisette for good? Ricardo Arandez was not a man to give up lightly, nor would he forget anything he saw as an insult. Until it was absolutely certain that Arandez had gone back to the West Indies, Lisette must be guarded all the time.
This decided, Edward found it impossible not to go back to the other, all-important question. What could he do about his own, deep dissatisfaction? He eventually fell asleep, still reluctant to accept the answer. But just a day or two later, he found that his mind was suddenly made up.
Lisette missed Pip. And she missed Octavia. The thought that neither of them knew of her engagement, however unofficial, worried her, too. But her request to visit them at Wychford did not find favour with her aunt.
‘Really, Lisette, that is most inconsiderate! You know I would have to accompany you, and the thought of that house makes me shudder. Besides, the Season will end quite soon, and I don’t want to miss any part of it, especially not the Marchants’ ball! You can surely wait till then.’
But when Harry saw Lisette’s disappointment he hit on the happy idea of escorting Lisette to Wychford himself. But though Julia was tempted she vetoed it. ‘It can’t be done! Not before you are officially engaged, and even then I should be reluctant. No, Lieutenant Petrie, it’s kind of you to offer, but it won’t do.’
Julia had been made to feel guilty, and she was so annoyed that the next time she met Edward she expressed her feelings to him.
‘I have devoted myself to that girl, got her engaged to one of the town’s most eligible bachelors, and what is her response? She wants to drag me back to a house she knows I can’t stand, merely to see her little sister! It’s not as if they are missing anything, Edward. There’s nothing official. The proper engagement celebration will come later when Lord Warnham has given his consent. Really, I wish you would speak to the girl! Instead of being grateful, she walks around looking as if I have committed a crime! But I can’t allow her to go with only Lieutenant Petrie to accompany her. Apart from the proprieties, it isn’t safe. Not with Arandez about.’
‘I’ll escort them.’
Edward’s offer came quite spontaneously, and it astonished both of them. After a moment’s pause Julia accepted with delight, and called Lisette to tell her so. Edward found himself making the necessary arrangements with them in a sort of daze, still not sure what had caused him to make the offer and wondering if he had gone quite mad.
Only later, when he was alone, did he finally acknowledge that to take Lisette and Harry to Wychford meant that he would see Octavia again, and that this was what he wanted most in the world. He had no idea how she would receive him, nor what he would do about it, but for better or for worse he had to know once and for all what it was that made life so impossible without her.
The decision made, life suddenly acquired a brighter hue, and the world seemed a better place.
Chapter Seventeen
The morning they left London was sunny and the countryside looked especially lovely as they bowled along. As they turned into the familiar drive Harry made them laugh with his account of how he had hidden among the trees the first time he had come, and they were still laughing as they turned the corner and the house came into view. Edward felt a surge of happiness. Wychford with its crooked gables, its sparkling windows and its odd little tower, looked welcoming and…expectant. That was the only word. Expectant.
Lisette had sent a message ahead, and Pip was waiting for them. When she saw the carriage she dropped out of her tree and raced up to the house, shouting, ‘They’re here, they’re here, Octavia!’
Octavia stood framed in the massive oak doorway. She looked thinner, paler, than she had, but as the three visitors got out of the carriage her cheeks flooded with colour. For a few moments all was confusion and excitement as the younger Barracloughs greeted one another.
‘I didn’t expect you,’ said Octavia distantly, looking at Edward. ‘Lisette only mentioned herself and Harry.’
A Very Unusual Governess Page 24