Lady Polly

by Nicola Cornick

  As soon as the words left Polly’s lips she regretted them, for it occurred to her that Lucille herself might have arranged to meet Lord Henry there. A moment later she chided herself for even thinking such a thing. She knew that her unhappy feelings for Lord Henry were warping her judgement and making her prone to jealousy. It was a new and uncomfortable experience for her.

  Lucille followed Polly’s look to see Lord Henry, deep in conversation with one of the Society’s members over by a marble pillar.

  “Good gracious, you are right, Polly!” A frown furrowed her smooth brow. “It does seem a little out of character, but I must suppose we do not know Lord Henry well enough to judge him!”

  “Well, let us not distract him from his conversation!” Polly said hastily, suddenly anxious not to have to confront Lord Henry after the débâcle of Richmond. Yesterday she had wanted an explanation; now, to be allowed to withdraw quietly from his company was the best that she could hope for. It was now clear that he did not intend to approach her and she thought dully that she should perhaps credit him with proper feeling for sparing her that embarrassment.

  Lucille was looking at her quizzically. “You seem very anxious to avoid him, Polly! You will have to speak to him again one day, you know! Perhaps you might even give him the chance to explain himself!”

  Polly blushed. “I am embarrassed by what happened yesterday,” she admitted, “and I wish to give myself a little time to recover. You must know that I had started to cherish some hopes for Lord Henry and myself, but now I see that I was mistaken. I was prepared to hear him out, but he has not given me that opportunity, Lucille! Clearly it is not important to him! Best to let the matter pass, I think!”

  Lucille looked as though she would have liked to have argued, but as the Dittons were approaching them again they beat a hasty retreat out into the sunshine and the matter was dropped.

  “I do see that the Society serves a worthy cause,” Polly said, in answer to Lucille’s enquiry as to whether she had enjoyed herself at the lecture, “but I fear I cannot appreciate its more gruesome aspects. Oh, I am sure it serves a worthy medical purpose,” she added hastily, “but I do feel it encourages people like Mr Ditton to gloat over unpleasantness! As for the benevolent aspects—do you not feel uncomfortable about the way some people congratulate themselves on their generosity? Why, some of them were positively glowing with self-worth! Maybe I am unkind—” She saw Lucille smile and added defensively, “Well, do you not agree, Lucille? You are always so discreet in your charitable activities, and never expect fulsome thanks!”

  Lucille laughed. “Yes, Polly, I do agree with you, as a matter of fact. I am not at all certain that I shall be returning to the Royal Humane Society! And at all costs we must avoid your mama discovering our trip to investigate the Society’s activities! One mention of resuscitating the dying and she will very likely have a fit of the vapours!”

  Chapter Six

  The ball at Mrs Ellery’s that night could hardly have been further removed from the Royal Humane Society lecture, but a number of the same fashionable crowd graced the occasion.

  It was another hot night, too hot for dancing and humid enough to worry Mrs Ellery that she had not ordered enough champagne to quench the thirst and would be deemed penny-pinching by the ton. Polly, vigourously fanning herself after attempting the boulanger with Simon Verey, could only be grateful that this was the very last ball of the Season and they would shortly be leaving Town.

  The Dowager Countess was chaperoning her daughter to the ball and was keeping a closer eye on her than she had done at Lady Phillips’s. Polly returned punctilliously to her mother’s side after each dance, as anxious as the Dowager to avoid any encounter with Lord Henry Marchnight. It was not possible to ignore him completely, for Lord Henry was escorting his sister to the ball, but it was entirely possible to avoid any opportunity for direct conversation and Polly was bent on proving this. Her heart was sore. He had only been amusing himself with her, after all.

  At the end of the following set of country dances, Polly found the Dowager Countess seated next to the fearsome Dowager Duchess of Broxbourne, with the Dittons and a few others in sycophantic attendance. Simon Verey had been dancing with Lady Laura Marchnight and as Polly rejoined her mother she saw Lord Henry at close quarters for the first time that night, casually bending over his sister’s chair to exchange a few words. Polly felt the blood come up into her cheeks as his grey gaze drifted thoughtfully over her. She avoided his eye and turned her shoulder so that he was not in her line of vision. Disconcertingly, she felt as though he was still watching her and that his gaze contained amusement. She hated being so aware of his presence.

  “We were talking of the Chapman case,” the Dowager Duchess of Broxbourne said, looking at Lord Henry through her lorgnette and permitting a faint, wintry smile to touch her thin lips. He was a reluctant favourite of hers. “Mr Ditton was just saying that the desperado has escaped!”

  A soft gasp escaped from the lips of those ladies who found themselves overset at this piece of news.

  “Escaped on the way to the gallows, what!” Mr Ditton confirmed excitedly. “A whole gang of the felons set upon the cart and overpowered the guards! There was rioting in Skinner Street and St John Street, and Chapman disappeared into the crowds and was never seen again!”

  The Dowager Duchess’s large bulk shuddered. “None of us are safe in our beds! Why, the man is a robber and murderer!”

  The group looked around as though expecting Captain Chapman and his murderous brigands to burst in through the ballroom windows. And, indeed, it did seem for a moment that the chandeliers grew dim and a cold wind blew through the room.

  The Chapman case had become something of a cause célèbre in recent weeks, its topicality fanned into flames by the radical press. Chapman had been arrested during a theft on a gunsmith’s and the claim had been that he was stealing arms for an insurrection. Further investigations into Chapman’s activities suggested that he had also been behind a number of robberies of violence perpetuated on members of the ton, whilst his actions as a rabble-rouser were well known. The very name could send a shiver down the spine. It was as though he had become a figurehead for the poor, hungry and oppressed, who threatened the established order.

  “They say,” Mr Ditton put in with the same eager ghoulishness Polly had recognised in him earlier in the day, “that the man has a powerful protector, a nobleman who is bored with his own easy existence and seeks excitement. They say that he has spirited Chapman away!”

  A murmur of appalled protest ran round the group. “Surely not one of us!” Miss Ditton said, looking about to faint dead away.

  “I had not heard that rumour,” the Dowager Duchess said, a little irritably. “Is it certain?”

  Mr Ditton shrugged elegantly. “Dear madam, who can say? But it would give a great deal of help to Chapman and his cronies to have a wealthy supporter! And not just that, but a man who has the entrée to ton functions—why, such a person could advise on the subject for a robbery with violence, he could—”

  “You’re frightening the ladies, Ditton,” Lord Henry said gently.

  Polly looked at him. He was wearing the same, languid look of boredom that was his habitual expression in general company and yet for a second she could have sworn that there had been keen interest in his face, as though he were absorbing all that Tristan Ditton was saying.

  “But are you not concerned, Marchnight?” the Dowager Duchess demanded. “Do you not fear for your life?”

  Lord Henry smiled. “Alas, no, ma’am. I have no energy to waste worrying about criminals and agitators. The set of my coat, the quality of my linen—those are the matters that preoccupy me! Excuse me!”

  And he strolled away into the cardroom.

  “Well!” the Duchess said explosively. “Was there ever such a man-milliner! I am thankful we do not have to depend on the likes of Henry Marchnight to defend us from the common people!”

  “Of course,” Mr Di
tton said, a sly look on his equine face, “it may all be a façade, ma’am! What if—” he leaned forward avidly “—Lord Henry is our man? The pose of dandy would be a fine way to dispel suspicion!”

  This time there was a shocked gasp from his audience. Even the Duchess seemed uncertain how to react. Polly stood up. The candlelight seemed suddenly to make her head ache and she was aware of a constriction in her throat. Everyone seemed to have forgotten the presence of Lady Laura Marchnight, who was looking so pale she looked in danger of fainting.

  “Perhaps you will be so kind as to accompany me to the refreshment room, Lady Laura,” Polly said firmly, taking the younger girl’s unresisting arm. “I feel in need of some lemonade. No, thank you, Mr Ditton,” she said sharply, as Tristan Ditton leaped to his feet, “Lady Laura and I will do very well on our own!”

  “Lord Henry is far too lazy to put himself to the trouble of planning insurrection!” the Dowager Duchess said, meaning well, but almost undoing all of Polly’s good work.

  Mr Ditton’s eyes gleamed. “You may be correct, your Grace,” he said smoothly, “but how can we know? I tell you, I shall be regarding Henry Marchnight with the greatest suspicion from now on!”

  Laura gave a faint moan.

  “Poppycock, Ditton!” the Duchess said, pinning her colours to the mast. “You should have more care, slandering a man like that! Lucky for you Marchnight’s too idle to call you out!”

  Polly did not wait for matters to get worse. She practically dragged Lady Laura along the edge of the ballroom towards the door. In the background the music continued to tinkle and a few couples were attempting the cotillion in desultory fashion.

  Polly found that she was very upset and chided herself for her foolishness. She could hardly blame others for dismissing Henry Marchnight as lightweight when he himself encouraged precisely that impression. It puzzled her, for the man she knew was in no way superficial, and yet in general company he appeared to change character and become as shallow as any other pleasure-seeker in the ton. For a moment she remembered that lightning change in Henry’s expression from acute intelligence to amiable blandness, then a stifled sob from Lady Laura recalled her to the person who had been most injured by Mr Ditton’s malicious remarks and the Duchess’s clumsy attempts to smooth matters over.

  “It isn’t fair,” Lady Laura said passionately, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. “Everyone is so unkind about Henry when he is the sweetest person imaginable! Oh, I could hardly bear to hear them! I nearly said something I regretted, Duchess or no!”

  She looked at Polly, half-mutinous and half-ashamed. Polly smiled at her encouragingly.

  “Mr Ditton is unpardonable,” she said quietly, “and her Grace of Broxbourne scarcely less so!” She put out a hand on the other girl’s arm. “Please do not regard it, Lady Laura! I am sure you are right—you must know your brother better than any of us!”

  “He is not at all as everyone imagines,” Lady Laura said earnestly, gratefully taking the glass of lemonade that Polly passed her. “People think him stupid, or frivolous, but they do not at all appreciate his qualities! Why, I know that he is currently involved in work which—”

  “Laura?”

  It was difficult to tell whether it was Polly or Laura who jumped more. Laura had been engrossed in her attempts to exonerate her brother and Polly was fascinated by whatever it was she had been about to reveal. When Lord Henry himself paused beside them they both looked up, flushed and disconcerted. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Whatever can the two of you be plotting? Why, you look the picture of guilt!”

  It was too much for Laura. Her eyes filled with tears again and with a murmured word of apology to Polly, she positively ran out of the refreshment room.

  Henry watched her go with a heavy frown on his brow. He touched Polly’s hand briefly.

  “I had no idea that Laura was so upset, Lady Polly. I apologise for interrupting your conversation when she evidently wished to confide in you.” His searching gaze rested on Polly’s face for a moment. “I had better make sure that she is all right. Our mother has not accompanied Laura tonight and I promised to keep an eye on her. Excuse me…”

  Polly had no inclination to return to the ballroom. She watched Lord Henry’s tall figure skirt the floor and cross urgently to Lady Laura’s chaperon, saw the lady point and Lord Henry set off in that direction. Polly sighed. It was unforgivable of Mr Ditton to make such ill-bred remarks about Lord Henry Marchnight in front of his sister and hardly surprising that Laura had been deeply distressed. Nor did she doubt Laura’s whole-hearted defence of her brother. For a moment Polly wondered what Laura had been about to say to her, and she remembered the incisive look in Lord Henry’s eyes as he had listened to Mr Ditton. There was no doubt that Lord Henry was an enigma, assuming a superficial and indolent air when he chose, but using it to disguise something deeper…Surely she could not be the only one to have noticed? And yet, it seemed she was.

  Mr Ditton, his sister and Mr Bunlon came into the refreshment room, laughing and chatting, and Polly went out into the ballroom to avoid them. It was almost the last dance of the evening; the orchestra was tuning up again and Polly felt oddly flat. The Season was trailing away in rather insipid fashion now that the excitement of her false flirtation with Lord Henry had ended. She wished…

  “Lady Polly, may I speak with you?”

  She had not seen Lord Henry approaching her, for he had come along the edge of the dancing floor, where a line of pillars cast a dark shadow. What Polly could see, however, was Lady Seagrave advancing purposefully once more from the other side of the room. Lord Henry saw it too and his lips tightened.

  “Come and dance with me,” he said a little abruptly. “Your mother will scarcely pursue us on to the floor!”

  It was the waltz which was playing, all too reminiscent of their previous encounter at Lady Phillips’s rout. Now, however, there was a definite constraint between them. There was a heavy frown on Lord Henry’s brow and for a moment Polly wondered whether he was going to broach the subject of the scene at Richmond. Her heart beat a little faster.

  “I must thank you, Lady Polly, for your kindness to my sister just now. Clearly you removed her from a distressing situation before matters could get worse. I am most grateful.”

  Polly felt obscurely disappointed. So they were to continue as though nothing had happened, and yet the barriers between them were now reinforced. She had little choice but to follow his lead. Normally so open and amiable, his expression now was preoccupied and almost severe. There was still a frown between those dark brows and an angry set to Lord Henry’s mouth.

  “Lady Laura told you what was said, then.” Polly spoke a little hesitantly. “I am sorry that she should have been so distressed. Even if Mr Ditton spoke in jest it was in bad taste and ill conceived—”

  “Would that I could call him to account for it,” Lord Henry said furiously, “but just at the moment I can ill afford—” He broke off suddenly, refocusing on Polly, and some of the latent anger went out of him.

  “Oh, well,” the nonchalance had eased back into his voice and was well-feigned, almost convincing “—Ditton is an unpleasant fellow, when all is said and done, but not worth disturbing oneself over. Such matters never are worth the trouble…”

  Had Polly not been so aware of Lord Henry she might well have been taken in by his assumption of good humour, but with her own feelings in turmoil she found she could contain herself no longer. The words popped out of her mouth before she even had time to consider them.

  “Why do you pretend to be of no account, interested in nothing but foolish, frippery things, my lord? I am not taken in by your pretence that you do not care about Ditton’s words! It does not cozen me, though I confess I find other aspects of your behaviour rather more puzzling!”

  For a moment, she saw the surprised speculation in Lord Henry’s eyes, before the bland amiability that so frustrated her returned.

  “I collect that you r
efer to my other exploits, Lady Polly? You do not consider high play and the pursuit of the fair sex to be serious occupations for a gentleman, ma’am?”

  Polly almost stamped her foot.

  “I am well aware that you might find them so! But I know you are seeking to distract me, my lord, funning me about something when I know you consider it a serious matter…I saw you when Mr Ditton made his remarks about Chapman’s protector—”

  She broke off as his hand tightened warningly on hers. Her voice had risen as her feelings spilled over, and other couples had turned curiously to see what was going on. Lord Henry bent close to her ear.

  “Yes, you can read me better than most, Lady Polly, because I have chosen to show my true self to you. And it is also true that I do not choose to behave in company as I do with my closest friends. But just for now, I must beg you to forget what you know of me and accept that I am nothing more than a foolish, frippery fellow who cares only for the set of his neckcloth…” His mouth twisted into a smile at her look of amazement. They were very close. This time there was no attempt to distract her from the topic. There was a compelling force in his eyes that silenced her, demanded her compliance.

  Polly’s thoughts tumbled over themselves. Why the pretence at boredom and dandyism? What was he hiding? Perhaps Tristan Ditton had been right: a man playing a part; a nobleman, bored with his easy lifestyle, craving excitement…But it was not possible! Lord Henry had integrity, honour…Surely, he would never become embroiled in criminal activities simply to amuse himself…

  Polly’s troubled gaze searched Lord Henry’s face. “But why are you playing a part? What—”

  “Forgive me.” Lord Henry’s tone had softened as he saw her look. “I cannot tell you that now. And forgive my abruptness. I should not have spoken so, but it is of the greatest importance that you should keep your suspicions to yourself, Lady Polly. One day I will tell you why…”

  Polly shook her head slightly, retreating into pride. “It is of no consequence if you do not wish to explain yourself—”