Harley Street

by Lynne Connolly

  I met his frank, anxious gaze with one of my own. “Oh yes. I know that now.” Although my wretched feelings of inadequacy chased me every time Richard paid attention to a lovely woman, that was my problem, not his.

  “When did you first—you know?”

  “When did I lose my virginity? I was fourteen.”

  “Fourteen?” This surprised me, despite knowing that he’d once tried to work his way through the female population of London.

  “A housemaid, older than I was, seduced me. It seems to be the usual way. At least, a lot of my contemporaries went the same way.” A frown appeared between his brows. “Does it bother you?”

  I considered. “Not at all.” I always tried to be truthful with him. “Perhaps it should but I have a feeling you developed your appetites early.”

  He laughed fondly. “And you, my love, did the right thing and waited, as any good maiden should.” He stroked my face again, so gently I hardly felt it. I moved my head to one side and kissed his hand.

  “Not for marriage, though.” I’d become his mistress before we married but I was his, all his.

  His clear blue gaze caressed my face. “Well, you’re well and truly married now, my lady, and there are certain duties you’re required to endure.” He moved his body over mine.

  I shifted a little, to make it easier for him. “What time will they expect us to get up?”

  “Who cares?” He kissed me, long and slow. “When we’re ready. Are you ready?”

  I flexed my body under him. “Not to get up.” He laughed and moved, making me sigh in contentment. “But I’m ready.”

  I responded eagerly to his loving. As always he was both considerate and passionate, sensual and exciting, pushing me to my own heights before he sought his and then sank down into my arms. I shut my eyes and felt his closeness.

  I rested my hand on the back of his head. He kept his fair hair short but it still sprang into tight waves. I felt the silky softness and enjoyed the peace that comes after making love.

  Eventually he lifted his head and took his weight on his elbows. He studied me. “I’ll never get used to this.”

  “What?”

  “The love you give me. I don’t deserve any of it but I’m so glad you decided to make me your beneficiary.” He kissed me lingeringly and then moved his weight and gathered me close.

  “Your father is disappointed in me. I should be big with his son’s heir by now.” I caressed his chest with my palm.

  “He’s not too downcast. It’s only been six months.”

  “A year, really.”

  He smiled. “No. The few times we made love before we married were isolated and we would have been unlucky—or lucky. I know we have to do this to satisfy the family but it’s you I want, not our progeny. I don’t even know how I’ll feel about them when they finally arrive—if they ever do.” He paused, kissed my shoulder. “And in any case, it may be my fault. I was always careful with everyone but you. I’ve never heard of any bastards of mine. I won’t have you worried about it or pressured and my father knows that.”

  “What do you mean, careful?”

  “I can withdraw, just before I come.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  He kissed me. “With you, my sweet life, it’s an impossibility. I did try, in Exeter that time, do you remember?”

  “No.”

  He laughed softly. “I’m not surprised. But I did try. I’d never been so out of control before.”

  I snuggled in. “I wanted to give myself to you but I didn’t expect what I received in return.” I would have dozed again but the door opened and this time it was Nichols to light the fire. I never knew how she and Carier timed their entrances so well because they had never interrupted us making love, not once. Or maybe we just hadn’t noticed.

  We let the fire warm the room, getting our warmth from each other instead. I remembered how hot it had been in Rome and how we only covered ourselves with sheets and slept separated because of the heat. Then I compared that time with today, the chills of autumn already upon us, covered snugly with blankets and a thick quilt. I preferred it this way but I thought the beggars in Rome were probably better off in that respect than our own London indigents.

  It was pleasant to lie curled up with Richard, chatting quietly, occasionally caressing each other, putting off the moment when we had to face the day. “You should set a timetable, so people know when you’re holding your salons and levees,” he said.

  I swallowed. I had to become a great lady for his sake. He had offered to live quietly with me but that was not good enough. I knew I had to change and he was right. It started today. “But I have no intention of giving up this time with you in the mornings and our privacy here will be maintained. I’m determined on it. I’ll speak to my mother today. When we’re in here together, no one but Nichols and Carier are allowed in.”

  I knew what he wasn’t saying. While it was comfortable for us to keep our privacy, we also had to think about retaining some security. We had enemies. Today we had surprised a little maid, but it was frightening to think of who could have come in while we slept.

  I moved my leg along his and he glanced at me, laughing. “If we don’t get up now, we may never get up at all. I leave the decision to you, my precious. I’m happy to plead exhaustion and stay here all day but I thought you wanted to go and see your aunt.”

  I sighed, recalled to my duties. Before we had left Hareton House, I had promised to accompany Lizzie on her visit to our aunt, Mrs. Godolphin, today.

  “You’re right.”

  I threw back the covers and reached for my robe, the one Richard had bought for me in Venice. I’d never considered it worth my while to waste money on a new one before, since no one would ever see me in it. This one was ivory satin, heavily embroidered with flowers and bees in many colours, a grand affair and someone regularly saw me in it.

  He watched me move about the room before he got up. He loved to look at me and while I would have felt shy and awkward under anyone else’s gaze, I loved Richard doing so. I had even teased him a time or two and been dragged back to bed for my pains but that wouldn’t be fair today, when I was expected elsewhere. He slipped on his own robe and went through to his dressing room where his valet presumably waited for him.

  I chose green today, the colour of spring and with it I put on the pearls Richard had given to me before our wedding. Nichols tamed my hair, smoothing it back and letting a few curls stray over one shoulder, then she pinned on a barely there lacy cap and I went downstairs to breakfast.

  Only Richard and Lady Southwood were there. I never called my mother-in-law anything but “Lady Southwood” or “ma’am.” Lord Southwood, his wife explained, had been out rather late the night before and was still asleep and Richard’s sister, Maria, was still dressing. A far cry from breakfast in the country, where everyone had usually been up for hours. Richard’s mother waited until I filled my plate and sat at the table.

  ““My housekeeper informed me that you gave one of my maids rather a surprise this morning,” she said to Richard. Her tone was chilly.

  He turned a face of pure innocence to her. “In what way, madam?”

  She held his gaze, matching it with her own. “It took Mrs. Gravelines a full half hour to calm the girl down.” She scolded him like a child.

  “What can have shocked her so deeply?” An edge of annoyance sharpened his tone. Richard glanced at me. I looked down at my plate, deeply embarrassed.

  “You should close your bed curtains at night.” His mother seemed oblivious to Richard’s frostiness. “I cannot have my maids upset in this way.”

  “I totally agree with you but what on earth did the girl tell you she saw? It was nothing untoward I can assure you. It’s hardly as though I asked her to join us.” Richard’s temper could be vicious. He believed in tackling a problem head on but I found it uncomfortable to witness. “I should like it known, ma’am, when we are in the bedroom only Nichols and Carier a
re allowed in. I have never liked the bed curtains closed, as you must know and I dislike being stared at by strangers first thing in the morning.” They stared at each other, mother and son, without speaking for a full minute. It seemed much longer.

  His mother looked away abruptly. “I’ll give the order this morning.”

  I still felt uncomfortable. I wasn’t happy with everyone knowing our sleeping arrangements. I wished we could be back in the little apartment in Venice, with only handpicked servants. Richard was right. We’d be better off in our own house.

  I was beginning to know my mother-in-law. When I first met her, her diminutive stature and her seeming kindness had affected me most but I soon perceived the will of iron under the frailty and her implacable devotion to Family over family, the dynasty rather than people. Her inability to see her children, especially her sons, as anything but a continuance of the line had done much to drive them away from her.

  LATER THAT MORNING Richard handed me into the carriage. Lizzie was mouth-wateringly arrayed in pink lustring, with Ruth beside her in blue.

  He looked us over, smiling. “It’s the Gunnings all over again,”

  I replied without thought. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not in the least like them.” Except that they, too, were two blondes and a brunette. But the vacuity demonstrated by the fairest of the three was not at all reflected in my clever sister, Lizzie.

  He laughed in reply and didn’t pursue the compliment but stepped back and let the landau take us away.

  Lizzie turned to look at him. “I thought he might be coming to Aunt Godolphin’s with us.”

  “He’s studying estate business with his father. He says he’ll be delighted to accompany us another time.” I was glad to see Richard taking an interest in the estate. He’d never taken much interest in his inheritance before we married.

  We bowled along fashionable streets, all with the same kind of new, elegant houses, the thoroughfares broad and clean. We crossed the Tottenham Court Road and went into another set of streets, as new and fashionable in appearance as the ones on the other side but a little smaller with less trim and decoration. A subtle difference but a telling one.

  We entered Harley Street and drew up outside a house that looked much like the others. We stayed in the carriage while our cards were taken up. These houses were new, prosperous and uniform, each with the shiny black front door and tall windows that were de rigueur for London houses of any quality. Soon a footman in livery let down the steps of the carriage, helped us to alight and led the way up the steps to the front door.

  Aunt Godolphin had been an infrequent visitor to Devonshire but she was my godmother as well as my aunt, and wrote to us often, sometimes sending little gifts to us in our rural fastness. The previous year when she had invited Lizzie and me to spend a season in London, we’d been overjoyed. Events had overtaken us but the fact that she had been prepared to take us counted for a great deal. This was the first time I had seen her for five years, because she hadn’t been able to come to my wedding.

  She received us in a pleasant, warm room on the first floor, which faced the street. She curtseyed low, which I was a little abashed to see, so I crossed the room and held out my hands to her, taking hers, drawing her into a friendlier embrace and kissing her on both cheeks. “Aunt Godolphin, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.”

  “And you, my dear, how well you look. Not just that fetching gown but your countenance. Marriage must suit you, I always said it would.” She studied me critically while we sat. Her round face beamed its pleasure. “I knew you were made to run your own life, not live others’ for them.” She crossed the room to a table on which tea things were laid, continuing to chat as she poured. “I must confess, I wasn’t sure when I heard who you had accepted but you look well.”

  “We suit each other.” I smiled and accepted my tea.

  Lizzie laughed. “It’s a love match.”

  Aunt Godolphin stared at me, her eyes wide. “With Lord Strang?” Her tone said it all—a libertine, a man who cared nothing for anyone else. Until last year.

  I glared at Lizzie, annoyed that she would break a confidence. “We find a simpatico.”

  Lizzie stared back impishly, not at all subdued. “Soon everyone will know. Neither of you seem capable of hiding it.”

  “We’re getting better.” Even to my ears my tones sounded peevish.

  My aunt caught the tenor of my annoyance and frowned. “Why should you want to conceal such a thing?”

  After another glare at my unrepentant sister, I tried to explain. “We don’t want the whole world to know all our business. Lord Strang prefers to keep some of his life private.”

  Aunt Godolphin sighed in a sentimental way. “Your uncle and I have been in love for five-and-twenty years.” Then she regarded me again and her tone became more practical. “But then, the world wasn’t watching us all the time. I can see it would be more difficult. I’ll not tell anyone but even if I did, the chances are they’ll set it aside as the maunderings of an old woman.” She looked across and smiled. “So that’s why you look so well. Nobody looks as beautiful as a woman in love.”

  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, so I lifted my tea-dish and sipped while I recovered my composure.

  Aunt Godolphin was fairly launched. With the familiarity of an old acquaintance, she continued, “I’m surprised you lighted on Lord Strang though. Until recently his name was in the papers almost every day and I presume you know why.” She watched me, one eyebrow raised in query and I nodded. “Still, I daresay he’s sown all his wild oats now.” I hoped not, I was hoping for a few to come my way but I didn’t tell her that. “I wish you all happiness.”

  She turned her attention to Lizzie and Ruth, much to my relief, surveying them critically. “And you girls, I swear, you’ll take London by storm. We’ll be at your ball, of course, nothing would keep us away and I have every confidence that it will be the hit of the season. You mustn’t let it go to your heads though. Too often, I’ve seen girls who should know better putting on airs and repulsing the suitors they’re seeking to attract.” Now it was their turn to blush and I sipped my tea serenely, knowing she had finished with me for now. “I may not be of the highest ton but I married my Jane well and I saw many others with better prospects fall by the wayside because they turned their noses up at everything that came their way until there was nothing left for them.” She leaned forward to pick up the teapot. “Still, I know you all for well-brought-up girls and I’ve no real doubts about your success. I shall enjoy watching it.”

  One of the reasons I enjoyed my aunt’s company was that I could sit back and let her conversation flow over me, not being required to contribute in any way. Aunt Godolphin favoured us with her opinion on our change of fortune while she poured more tea. “When I heard the news, I was so surprised you could have knocked me over with a feather. James, an earl. Of course, it had always been possible but with two healthy young men between him and the title, I’m sure no one thought twice about it. I was looking forward to having you to stay but of course after that you could afford to look much higher and I can only be delighted for you. After I heard one of you had netted Lord Strang, I assumed it must be Lizzie, then to hear Rose had caught him shocked me.”

  I sighed, then I switched on a smile for her. “Why should you think it was Lizzie, Aunt Godolphin?”

  “Well—”

  From the upper regions of the house came a piercing scream.

  Chapter Three

  AUNT GODOLPHIN SPRANG to her feet, her mouth level and her eyes narrowed. Before she reached the door, a maid, her cap askew, her skirts kilted up in one hand, flung open the door and rushed in. “Madam, it’s Lucy.”

  Aunt Godolphin was outraged. “What about Lucy? Please don’t come in here like this, I’ve taught you better than that.”

  But I saw the real horror etched on the girl’s features and didn’t wait for any more. Followed by my sisters, I raced upstairs to the servants’ quarters,
to the source of that scream. There was something seriously wrong here.

  The noise of voices raised in alarm grew louder the farther up the house we went, until the source of the babble became apparent.

  All was chaos. What would normally be a quiet, well-ordered part of my aunt’s house had degenerated into uproar. As I hurried along the narrow corridor on the top floor, servants stared from the open doors of rooms. This was the women’s corridor. Inside, clothes hung from pegs on the walls, with neatly made beds, hard chairs and simple washstands the only furniture.

  Outside one door gathered a gaggle of servants in various states of dress. Some had obviously been taking their ease, resting before going back on duty, others were fully dressed for duty with crisp white aprons and mob caps. There were a few men also; menservants come through from their part of the house to see what was the matter.

  A footman stood braced in the doorway of one room, trying to stop anyone entering but under the impact of many bodies he was losing the battle.

  Such was the noise that no one noticed our approach until I shouted, in a voice I knew could carry across at least two Devonshire fields, “Let me through!”

  The volume and the unfamiliar voice made them all look around and then they fell back.

  Only the footman stood in my way, grave-faced. “It’s not a pleasant sight, my lady.” He interposed his bulk between me and the room.

  Exasperated, I glared up at him. “Let me through.” He moved back.

  He was right; it wasn’t a pleasant sight. Lizzie gasped. “Stay back, Ruth. This isn’t for us.” I was glad she had the sense to keep our younger sister away. Ruth invariably fainted at the sight of blood.

  And there was blood in this room, congealing around the body, sending a thick, sickly stench into my nostrils. A woman lay on the bed, head on one side, eyes closed, arms outstretched in a parody of welcome, perfectly at ease thanks to the large dagger that protruded sickeningly from her chest. She was beyond anyone’s help.