“Lady Seagrave! Lady Polly!” Lord Henry was smiling at Polly in a way that made her feel suddenly rather hot. “What good fortune!” He turned to the very young lady by his side. “May I make you known to my sister Laura?”
Laura Marchnight, simply but expensively clad in the demure apparel of the debutante, dropped a shy curtsy. She was a sweet-looking girl with the same corn-coloured hair and grey eyes as her brother. Polly remembered hearing that Lady Laura was delicate and had recently returned from a trip to Bath Spa with her mother, where the medicinal waters had apparently done wonders for her health.
“We were just planning an outing to Richmond,” Henry was saying, his gaze still fixed rather disconcertingly on Polly. “Tomorrow, if the weather stays fair. We would be delighted if you were able to join us—” he turned courteously to Lucille “—and Lord Seagrave as well, of course, if he is free.”
Lucille, who had been exchanging a few words with Therese and Simon Verey, looked rueful. “We are promised for a visit tomorrow and cannot cry off,” she said apologetically, “but I am persuaded that Polly would be able to make up one of your party. What do you think, Polly? Are you already engaged for tomorrow?”
Polly shook herself out of the slight confusion which Lord Henry’s presence always seemed to stir up in her. “Oh, no…yes…indeed! I have no other plans! I should be delighted!”
Therese Verey smiled. “I am sure your mama will let me stand as chaperon! Laura is to accompany us, and Simon’s sister Jane Delahaye, and one or two others. It will be great fun!”
“We thought to ride,” Lord Henry murmured. “I understand that you are a keen horsewoman, Lady Polly. Would such a plan meet with your approval?”
Polly turned her glowing face to his. “Oh, indeed, that would be most enjoyable! I have missed riding out since I have been up in Town!”
They parted in mutual accord, having agreed that Lord Henry would call for Polly in his phaeton and drive her to Richmond. The Vereys undertook to provide the horses from Simon’s extensive stables and Polly started to look forward to the excursion very much. She hurried home to review her wardrobe, certain that she had absolutely nothing to wear that was worthy of a trip to Richmond with Lord Henry Marchnight. After she had considered every dress she owned, draping them over the bed and holding them up in the mirror, a grumbling Jessie pointed out that she would be wearing a riding habit anyway. That meant a choice of green, red or navy blue and Polly chose the blue, then spent almost the entire evening at the musicale they were all attending, wondering whether she had made the correct choice. She was then struck by the awful thought that it might rain on the morrow even though it had not done so for several weeks. All in all, it was a wonder she had any sleep that night.
Fortunately, it proved to be the most perfect day for a ride. Polly had greatly enjoyed the drive to Richmond and the party had met up at the Roe-hampton Gate, taken a ride to Pen Ponds and were now turning back for a cold collation at the Star and Garter Inn.
“I had no idea that you were such an accomplished rider, ma’am,” Henry Marchnight said to Polly as, out of breath and laughing with exhilaration, she slowed to a canter as the Gate came in sight once more. “I had heard that you were keen, but the two are not always synonymous! I should have suggested such an outing much sooner!”
His frank gaze admired the colour in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. “It is pleasant to escape the confines of the Town, is it not?”
Something in his tone reminded Polly of the night at Hampstead Wells, when Henry had told her that she was a rebel by nature. Certainly her unrestrained enjoyment of a gallop through the park seemed to prove his point. They had not approached the intimacy of that night at Hampstead again; indeed, Henry seemed very careful to avoid any behaviour that could be construed as questionable. He made sure that they were never alone together and he treated Polly with utmost propriety. She found his behaviour puzzling, to say the least. She sensed that it did not come naturally to him to keep himself on so tight a rein, and yet she was half-grateful that he did not attempt to shorten the distance between them. She was confused by her feelings for him. On the one hand she wanted more, far more, from him, but she was still held back by the constraints of her upbringing.
Now, to give herself time, she turned away and studied the sweep of the land towards the river, the charming little woods scattered about them and the herds of deer grazing peacefully in the distance.
“Have you seen John Boydell’s aquatints of the river?” Lord Henry said casually, slowing his horse to a walk to allow the rest of the group to catch them up. “They are held to be very pretty, I believe.”
“Yes,” Polly smiled. “They are quite charming. And it is such fun to be able to match his pictures to all the places along the river, but I do believe that he gives a more rural feel to the prints than is truly accurate!”
“I must suppose that anyone brought up in Suffolk considers the area around London to be too close to the city to be truly rural,” Lord Henry observed. “And no doubt I shall shortly be reminded of the difference for myself. Were you aware that we are to spend some time near Woodbridge this summer? My mother has decided that it would be good for Laura’s health to go to the seaside, but to avoid crowds and excitement.”
There was something dry in his tone which suggested to Polly that Henry had very similar views to her own on the Duchess of Marchnight’s mollycoddling of her youngest daughter. Lady Laura was a little ahead of them now on her grey mare, her charming countenance turned towards young Lord Blakeney, who was evincing every sign of pleasure at being her chosen escort. Certainly Laura looked the picture of health and was revelling in the outing and the company.
“I am sorry that Lady Laura has been unwell,” Polly said cautiously, “but she seems much recovered now. The waters at Bath must have a remarkably curative effect! And I hope,” she added hastily, seeing Henry’s look of amusement, “that she will find Suffolk similarly restorative and not too dull!”
“Alas, I am the one who is likely to find the country slow,” Henry said humourously, “especially as it will be devoid of your presence, Lady Polly, which is the only thing that might have made it tolerable for me!”
Polly could not help blushing. She was also regretting rather strongly the Dowager Countess’s avowed intent of spending the summer in Brighton. Perhaps she could contrive a stay at Dillingham? But she did not want Lord Henry to feel too encouraged…
“Nonsense, Lord Henry,” she said bracingly. “You have told me many times that you consider Suffolk a vastly pleasant county! I am sure you will find plenty to amuse you there!”
Lord Henry’s lips twitched. “It was such a pretty compliment too,” he murmured. “I am sorry it did not please you.”
Polly tried not to smile. “It was very pretty,” she agreed solemnly, “but I was not sure how much it was worth!”
Lord Henry burst out laughing. “I cannot put you out of countenance, can I, Lady Polly? You may take it as true—I should be very sorry to spend the summer months out of your company!”
Fortunately for Polly’s composure, Therese Verey brought her horse alongside at that point and Henry fell back to talk to Simon. They clattered into the yard of the Star and Garter and were pleased to find themselves expected and a delicious cold collation laid out on trestles in the garden. Polly, drawn into conversation with Therese and Jane Delahaye over the meal, only noticed Lord Henry’s absence as the party gathered itself to depart.
“Where is Henry?” Lady Laura asked innocently, as they walked slowly through the arch into the inn courtyard. “He was here a moment ago! I thought—Oh!”
“Rather showy,” Polly heard Simon Verey say to Lord Blakeney, “and too short of bone—Oh, I say!”
The scene in the courtyard appeared to have a similar effect on all members of the party. One moment, Polly thought, they had been chatting amongst themselves and the next they had all fallen into horrified silence.
There was a
carriage drawn up in the yard, pulled by the four showy white horses which Lord Verey had just been disparaging. Lord Henry Marchnight was leaning against the side of the coach and chatting to its occupant, a smile of appreciation on his lips. As he saw the group emerge from the garden he straightened up and Polly saw a fleeting look of annoyance cross his face as though he had no wish to be interrupted. A moment later, the lady in the carriage had leaned out and, taking Henry by surprise, planted a lingering kiss on his mouth.
There was no doubt that Lady Bolt had staged the action for maximum effect. From within the carriage she would have seen Henry’s companions emerge through the archway and her sense of malice had done the rest. And whilst Henry moved away from her as quickly as he could, the damage was done. All the witnesses had an image of Lady Bolt’s hands resting lightly on Henry’s shoulders as she lowered her smiling scarlet mouth to his for several long seconds. Polly winced at the sight.
After that, everything became a little confused. Lady Bolt’s carriage rolled out of the yard, rather in the manner of the wicked fairy vanishing in a pantomime. Simon Verey had a quick word with Henry, who seemed to disappear as quickly as Lady Bolt had done.
“In front of his own sister too,” Lord Blakeney was saying, outraged, as he shepherded a pink-faced Laura Marchnight protectively into the inn. “Lady Laura, please wait here whilst I have my phaeton brought round! You cannot drive back with Lord Henry after that—”
But here Laura Marchnight proved surprisingly obstinate. “I assure you, Lord Blakeney, I have no difficulty in accepting my brother’s escort back to Berkeley Square. I should be delighted if he chose to take me up!”
It was a shame Lord Blakeney could not see that he was doing himself great disservice in Laura’s eyes by criticising her brother, Polly thought. She was very loyal to Henry.
Polly saw the look of mingled regret and exasperation that passed between Therese Verey and Jane Delahaye, as Therese said to her, “Lady Polly, it would be best, perhaps, if both you and Lady Laura drive back with us. It will be a bit of a squeeze, but I am sure none of us will mind…”
And Simon Verey had hastened away to attend to the setting to of his carriage.
Polly felt dazed and a little sick. Whilst she had common sense enough to see that Lady Bolt had planned the whole encounter, the memory of it filled her with revulsion. And Henry was hardly blameless. He had been chatting to the Cyprian only a moment earlier and had obviously been enjoying her company. Perhaps he had even arranged to meet her there to arrange a tryst later that day! Polly’s lost hopes mocked her. She had begun to believe Henry sincere, to trust him. Well, now she saw the error of her ways!
Polly spent the whole of the journey back to Brook Street in a numb silence and then went straight to her room, declining to tell even Lucille about the events of the day. Miserably she wondered why Lord Henry had made no attempt to see or speak to her before they had left. He had disappeared with the speed of a man effecting a guilty exit. Had he approached her it would have been difficult to know how to deal with the situation, but she would have preferred to have had that opportunity. Evidently he had not cared sufficiently about her opinion to make an effort to explain to her.
Defiantly, Polly put on her favourite dress and prepared for the ball at Mrs Fleetwood’s that evening. If she was going to have to face Lord Henry Marchnight and the attendant scandal, she was determined to look her best.
As Polly had anticipated and dreaded, the tale was all over Town.
“How foolish of Harry…” Lucille sighed, as she and Polly fended off the fifth curious gossip-monger “…and how unlike him!”
“I collect you mean he was foolish to be caught,” Polly said tartly. She sat down rather heavily and rubbed a foot where her dainty dancing shoes were pinching. It did not add to her good humour.
Lucille looked reproachful. “I mean to have allowed himself to have been trapped by Susanna! She is forever up to these little tricks just to amuse herself!”
Polly thought that Lucille was probably right, but she did not have any sympathy for Henry.
“I am persuaded that Lady Bolt did not force him into any situation unwillingly,” she said coldly. “I think you are too indulgent of his folly, Lucille!”
Lucille raised her eyebrows at this reproach. “Well, upon my word, you are very harsh! Susanna has succeeded admirably!”
This caught Polly’s attention. “Whatever can you mean, Lucille?”
“Why, simply that Susanna is currently engaged in an attempt to ruin the future for yourself and Henry! She has already succeeded in improving on the estrangement between Peter and Hetty. I think…” Lucille smiled serenely “…I hope that she will not accomplish a break between Nicholas and myself! I think that beyond even her charms!”
Polly was staring at her sister-in-law in horror. “You think that this is all a plot of Lady Bolt’s?”
“Assuredly! She will engineer any chance to cause trouble! You should know that by now, Polly—” Lucille broke off with a little gasp and, turning her head, Polly saw that the object of their discussions had just come into the ballroom. As if to underline Lucille’s words, Susanna Bolt was hanging heavily on the arm of Peter Seagrave.
“Oh, truly,” Lucille said, sounding more vexed than Polly had ever heard her, “this is the outside of enough!”
It had been an unenjoyable evening. Polly danced a few desultory dances, chatted half-heartedly and waited in vain for Lord Henry Marchnight to make an appearance. They retired early, leaving Lady Bolt in triumphant possession of the floor and of Peter Seagrave, and the Dowager Countess railed ceaselessly against her all the way home. Polly slept fitfully and woke with a headache.
“Do you come with me to the Royal Humane Society lecture this afternoon?” Lucille asked, finding her sister-in-law sitting quietly in the drawing-room that lunchtime. Her eye fell on the improving book which Polly had been reading earlier. “Or perhaps you are so enthralled in that righteous tome that you have no wish to go out! Etiquette for young ladies! Upon my word!”
Polly laughed, despite herself. Etiquette and deportment might be very uplifting and suitable for a young lady, but it was also tedious. Somehow the disastrous scene at Richmond had prompted her to revert to all that was proper and conventional. She entertained no more hopes of reforming a rake, particularly as the rake in question clearly cared so little for her opinion of him that he had not troubled to seek her out.
The Royal Humane Society sounded to be a very suitable place for a lady of charity to spend some time and at least she would not be bothered by Lord Henry’s presence there! Feeling pleasantly virtuous, she agreed to join Lucille on the outing.
The marble entrance hall of the Royal Humane Society was cool and shadowy after the brightness of the day outside. The ladies furled their parasols and hurried to join the group of people going into the lecture room. Polly was astonished to see a number of their acquaintance there. She had thought that this latest interest of Lucille’s was yet another slightly eccentric and obscure hobby, but now found that the Society was a magnet for the fashionable.
“I had no idea that such a lecture would be so popular,” she murmured in Lucille’s ear as they slid into their seats and a gentleman nearby raised his hat and murmured a greeting. The room was filling rapidly. Across the aisle, Polly could see the Huntlys and Lady Havisham, and returned the wave of Miss Ditton, a neighbour of the Seagraves from Suffolk.
“The Society has become a popular means of exercising benevolence,” Lucille replied quietly. “You remember that I told you it was originally established by two doctors to promote resuscitation? It now hands out medals and rewards to those people who have helped save lives. I believe that a small group of members are researching means of reviving the drowned and the hanged…”
Polly shuddered. “How very unpleasant! I am all in favour of exercising benevolence, and indeed I suppose that genuine scientific research should never be discouraged, but what can be the attraction fo
r some of these people? Why, it is positively ghoulish!”
She touched Lucille’s arm.
“Look at Mr Ditton, for instance! He is almost slavering as he talks to that gentleman over there and his eyes are gleaming with unholy excitement! Ugh, unwholesome man! And you cannot tell me that Mr and Miss Ditton are here because they like to involve themselves in charitable causes! A less benevolent pair would be difficult to find!”
Lucille laughed. “I have to agree! It is a sad fact that the more macabre aspects of the Society do attract those people who have a fascination with the gruesome!”
Fortunately, the lecture that afternoon was on the charitable aspects of the Society’s work, Lucille herself having no interest in its more grim activities. A number of projects were explained to the listeners, many of whom were happy to offer financial support. After the lecture there was a sumptuous luncheon at which the guests could mingle and chat, and meet some of the people helped by the Society’s work. Lucille and Polly soon found themselves effusively greeted by the Dittons, and were obliged to stop to exchange pleasantries.
Polly had known Miss Thalia Ditton and her brother Tristan all her life. Unfortunately, familiarity had not bred affection. She found both the Dittons bordering on the vulgar with their preoccupation with rank and fortune. Beside Miss Ditton lounged the young gentleman who had the misfortune to be her betrothed: Mr Bunlon was a gentleman of considerable estate, even though he had no title, and his blank, good-natured face wore the perpetually surprised look of one who was not at all certain how he came to be betrothed to Miss Ditton in the first place.
After a few moments they managed to excuse themselves and were moving towards the door when Polly clutched her sister-in-law’s arm.
“Lucille! Look! It’s Henry Marchnight, of all people! Now whatever can he be doing here? I am sure Lord Henry does not trouble himself to exercise benevolence!”
Lady Polly Page 7