“Surely you would not let his lack of fortune weigh with you?”
“Not with me... But he – well, he has always been used to living between his friends in Town and his estate, and gaming and horses and. . . and so on. I cannot think that he would settle down happily to be poor!”
“I see what you mean,” said Georgy thoughtfully. “Well — we will see!” She braced herself resolutely and turned. “Come, now I will tell you a secret!”
Anastasia was immediately distracted from her own preoccupations. “Oh Georgy! — don’t tell me that you, too, are in love?”
She nodded.
“But who can it be? I have not noticed that you were favouring one of your admirers above the others!”
“There is someone with whom I have spent a great deal of time lately, and. .... .Oh Ana! — I hope you do not mind it, but I am in love with Robin, and he with me!”
“With Robin!” repeated Anastasia blankly. “Robin Carstares?”
Georgy looked nervously at her. “You said that you didn’t want to marry him ever, though he still considers himself bound to marry you, if you should wish it.”
“Oh, nonsense!” She ran across and hugged her cousin warmly. “Of course I don’t wish it! How glad I am – but come, this is so sudden! Tell me when he first realised that instead of imagining himself in love with me, he discovered that he was really in love with you! For he never was truly in love with me, you know.”
“I know. It was just. . . oh, calf-love, I suppose,” said Georgy fondly, “For he is such a boy still! But I knew from the moment I saw him that he was the one...”
Ana nodded thoughtfully. “Now I come to think of it, he has not been hovering about me as he used to do for quite some time!”
“He confided in me about his love for you, at first. And then we used to chat so comfortably about all kinds of things..... and then – well, he changed!”
“You need not tell me! But are you really and truly sure?”
She nodded happily. “I said at first that he had changed his mind too quickly — that I could not believe he would not change his mind again! But I am now convinced that he really does love me.”
“It must be so! But what about your Mama? I am certain that she had a much greater match in mind for you than that!”
“It will not be easy. Robin is not poor – as you know -besides being an only son, so he cannot be thought a fortune hunter, can he? But I hope Mama will come round to it, for she had ever a weakness for a handsome young man! I daresay he will twist her round his little finger in time!” she added dotingly.
“Well, I, at least, give you both my blessing, and absolve Robin for any commitment he may imagine he has to marry me!”
“He seems to think you might be annoyed with him. He is quite nervous about telling you — in fact, he has forbidden me to mention the matter to you until he has spoken to you himself!”
Ana chuckled. “That’s the ticket, Georgy! — start as you mean to go on!”
She dimpled becomingly. “He is to come this very morning to break the news to you, and I am to distract Mama, so that he may speak to you alone!”
“Scandalous goings-on! Are you not afraid that I might steal him away again?”
“You could not! But you must be kind to him, and not tease him too much.”
“Oh, I will only tease him a very little, and you may cheer him again! Am I to tell him that you have already broken the dread news to me?”
She looked pensive. “Better not, perhaps. But you could have just guessed..”
“Even though too wrapped-up in my own affairs to notice what was going on under my very nose! All right, I will do so, but I think I should warn my poor Robin that he will be living under the cat’s foot once he is married!”
Chapter Nineteen
As she walked into the small morning room to see her erstwhile suitor Anastasia composed her face into an idiotic expression of bliss.
He was standing in front of the fireplace, nervously tapping his foot against the fender.
“Dearest Robin!” she exclaimed, going towards him with her hands outstretched. “You wanted to see me alone?”
He goggled at her in horror, took her hands, and then dropped them quickly as if he did not know what to do with them.
He tugged at his cravat, which seemed suddenly to have become too tight. Lord! – this was much worse than he had ever imagined! “Yes,” he gulped. “That is — I wanted to have a quiet word with you about something.”
“Something private and important, dear Robin?” she cooed, gazing at him soulfully.
He turned away and began to pace about the room. “Ana ..... Oh damn it! — I don’t know how to put this, but...”
“Let me help you! You have come to propose to me, have you not?” She managed to choke back a giggle at the look of consternation stamped across his handsome features.
“Well, I will save you the trouble of making me a pretty speech and give you your answer. Of course I will. . . not marry you, dearest Robin!”
He stood there for one minute like a rock, and then strode over to where she was standing, giggling uncontrollably and shook her vigorously.
“You wretch, Ana!” he said, a smile beginning to twitch the corners of his mouth. “I might have known when you began to ‘dearest Robin’ me, for you never did so in your life!”
“Oh, if only you could have seen the look of horror on your face!” she managed to get out, tears of laughter coming to her eyes. “Vastly flattering, I assure you!” She whisked out a shred of lace and dabbed at her eyes with it.
“Well, never mind that,” he said ruefully. “You know I am damned fond of you – always have been – but I was mistaken in thinking I was in love with you. Now I know the real thing I can’t think how I came to delude myself!”
“More and more flattering!” she exclaimed, diverted. “But I know what you mean, and I wish you and Georgiana all the happiness in the world.”
“Did Georgy tell you, then?”
“Do you think it impossible that I should have seen it for myself, when you have both been smelling of April and May this age?” she prevaricated.
He flushed. “But we were very careful not to. . . I mean, I thought you might cut up rough — for it is true enough that I compromised you by meeting you alone, and you are entitled to marry me if you wish it!”
“Handsomely said!” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “But I don’t want your unwilling hand!”
“If you are quite sure...” he said, mightily relieved.
“Quite sure. And now I should bend all my energies on charming Lady Dunford, if I were you.”
“Yes. . . . I do not know what she will say – I am quite unworthy of Georgy and I know it!”
“Oh, I think she may come round to the idea, for she is very good-natured, and wants only Georgiana’s happiness. When do you mean to ask her permission?”
“Now I’ve got this over. .... .Now all is settled, I will send her a note asking her to see me privately this very afternoon! Will you tell Georgy for me?”
“I will. And I am sure my Aunt will receive you kindly.”
“I must go — I have a lot to think about!” he put his arms about her and gave her a hug and a brotherly peck on the cheek just as the door opened.
“I am the happiest of men!” he exclaimed joyfully, and went blithely out of the room, passing Lord Silverfield, transfixed in the doorway, with a smiling nod.
Lord Silverfield waved away the servant who would have announced him, and the door closed behind him. Anastasia had turned her back as Robin left, and so did not see him.
The memory of her interview made her laugh again, so that when his Lordship said, very grimly “Good day. Miss Derwent!” and she turned, startled to find him towering threateningly over her, her eyes were still wet and sparkling.
“Lord Silverfield! I did not know there was anyone in the room – how you made me jump!”
He took in the flushed face and sp
arkling eyes. "You look extremely pleased with yourself. I suppose I must not guess why you have been receiving Carstares here alone?” he said in tones of such cold fury that she involuntarily stepped back a pace.
“I ... I am afraid that I may not tell you, except that it is... is not what it may seem!”
“Or the reason that Carstares also looked much pleased with himself, and called himself the happiest of men?”
“No! It is not in my power to tell you what we were discussing, and besides, it is none of your business!”
“Come now, Miss Derwent! — this will not do. You should not make a habit of kissing young men if you do not mean to marry them!”
“I do not make a habit of it!” She was furious to discover that she was blushing. “I take it that you came in as Robin was giving me a .... a brotherly kiss. It meant nothing, I assure you!”
The expression on his dark face was unnerving; she took a step towards the door. “I am afraid I must go... I should not be receiving you alone, Sir, as you very well know!”
His hand arrested her flight. “Come, Miss Derwent, you have been alone with me before, and for all I know to the contrary, make a habit of such assignations!”
“How dare you! My meeting with you that night was accidental, and I wish I had never met you!”
“Ah yes, I suppose you thought I must be young Carstares that night. But you had better luck the next night, did you not?”
She stared up at him blankly. “The next night – were you....?”
“Yes, I was the unfortunate witness to your romantic tryst. One of many, I presume?”
“But it was not. . . you cannot think.... You are mistaken, my Lord, if you think that I have any warmer feelings for Mr Carstares than that of a strong sisterly affection!”
“Oh, and that makes him the happiest of men?” he sneered. “Or perhaps it was kissing you that made him so?”
She struggled to free her wrist from his crushing grip. “I cannot see that it any concern of yours — you may think me what you please! Now let me go, for I will not stay here with you a moment longer!”
“For one more moment, you will!” he exclaimed. He pulled her to him and kissed her with rough thoroughness, and as suddenly let her go.
“No, I can’t say that kissing you has made me feel the happiest of men!” he said through his teeth as though he hated her.
She stood where he had let her go for one, white-faced, trembling moment, and then dealt his face the most resounding slap of which she was capable. Her eyes suddenly filled and overflowed with tears, and with a stifled sob she ran from the room.
“Oh, hell and damnation!” he exclaimed, and taking one of the elegant Sèvres ornaments from the mantelshelf he dashed it to a thousand pieces in the grate.
Chapter Twenty
Kitty huddled her thin shawl about her shoulders against the chill breeze, and waited with numb patience for Sir Montagu Morley to come out of his lodgings.
The money he had left her had proved little indeed, and must soon be gone altogether, and although her love for him had turned to hate she had determined to plead with him to support her, for the sake of the child, once again.
If she was still at heart the simple country girl she had been on the day when Sir Montagu had first seen her, she had yet seen enough of London in his company to know what would become of her without his protection.
She despised herself for a fool in ever believing he would marry her, but for him so coldly to suggest that she should find another lover! Even if she were degraded enough, or desperate enough, to do so, there would soon enough be the baby to consider. And what man would keep a mistress who was to bear another man’s child? She would sink into the gutter, and the child with her.
She gave a shudder – she would die first! He must help her. Surely there was some spark of feeling left for her? He had been lover-like enough once.
She pushed the fine, tangled hair away from her hollow cheeked face. Ah, but that was when she was still pretty! She gave a small, mirthless laugh.
She wished, oh, how heartily she wished, that she had remained at home, comfortable and secure, and with faithful Tom who had loved her and wanted to marry her.. But like a fool she had thought herself in love, and run away with a heartless rake. She sighed wearily, still keeping her eyes fixed on the door opposite.
He had never told her where his lodgings were, but she had followed him back once, out of curiosity. Now she must await her chance to accost him alone, for she knew it would only increase his anger if she were to speak to him in the company of his friends, or attempt to gain admittance to the house.
So it was that she saw two rough-looking men enter the building, and later emerge in Sir Montagu’s company.
When they had first gone in she had moved across the busy street and down into the area below the house where she could, by looking up, see him emerge and could easily run up to him.
Her heart sank when he came out with the two men, and she heard his voice speaking to them. Perhaps they would part now, and she would have her opportunity. She pressed herself against the side of the steps and listened.
The wind caught Sir Montagu’s words and swept them down to her. “You understand perfectly then what you are to do? To wait with the carriage at the side entrance to Vauxhall until I bring the girl to you, and then once she is safely in, to drive off quickly.”
There was a low growl of words from one of the men, which she could not catch. She edged a little way up the steps.
Sir Montagu spoke again: “No, I will follow you a half-hour or so later, and overtake you on the road. I must be seen to be still at Vauxhall so that I am not suspected of having a hand in her disappearance.”
“Whereabouts...... Hampstead?” the words of the second man were lost.
Sir Montagu’s voice was high-pitched with impatience. “I will direct you when I catch up with you. Is that clear? And do not stay for anything!”
Another indistinguishable rumble of voices, and then the unmistakable clink of coins changing hands, and footsteps going away.
The door above her slammed. Sir Montagu had gone in again.
Her weary brain struggled to understand what she had just heard.
It seemed that he was paying the two men to help him abduct a girl. She did not understand: except, perhaps, that he was about something evil.
But what if she had misheard? Perhaps it was to be an elopement. Her heart contracted in a confusion of hatred and misery. But she knew the meeting place, and would be there to ensure that he gave her what was her right, or be sorry for it!
With a new air of resolution she climbed the steps into the biting wind and turned towards her lodgings.
* * * *
Sir Montagu, well pleased, poured himself a bumper of brandy and lay back in his chair. The plan was foolproof. Everyone would see him long after Anastasia’s disappearance had been commented on — in fact, it would be best if he himself questioned her whereabouts!
And once he had her alone at the remote house he owned near Hampstead. . . . . Yes, Miss Anastasia Derwent would soon repent of her attitude towards him of late!
He dwelled pleasantly on the scene. She would be terrified, probably hysterical.... but in the end, she would be pleading with him to marry her! Perhaps he would. . he didn’t quite know his eventual intentions himself; only that he must possess her.
Her coldness had eventually pierced his armour of vanity; but instead of dampening his ardour it had only served to inflame it, until, despairing of winning her by fair methods, he had decided upon more desperate measures.
His manservant came in. “There is a fellow here asking for you, Sir. A rough sort of country fellow he seems. I did not know if you wished. . . .?” he paused. His master saw many strange-looking men, and he had learned discretion.
Sir Montagu looked up in surprise. “One of the two men here just now?”
“No, Sir, a younger man.”
He pondered, then shrugged. “Le
t us have the fellow in.”
The visitor proved to be a sturdy, thick-set country boy, little more than a youth, in stout boots. He entered the room awkwardly, but for all his youthfulness there was a stubborn set to his jaw, and an appraising light in the blue eyes under the tawny thatch of hair.
“You were asking for me?” enquired Sir Montagu with a surprised lift of the brows. He did not recollect ever having seen the boy before.
The blue eyes stared back at him unwaveringly. “Aye, ‘tis you! No, you haven’t seen me before, but I’ve seen you – in Stowbridge with Kitty Partridge!”
If Sir Montagu was taken aback he did not show it by the flicker of an eyebrow, except, perhaps, that he sat a little straighter in his chair.
“I am afraid you have me quite at a loss as to your meaning, fellow. I suggest that you have made a mistake in thinking that you have seen me before, for I am very certain that I do not know you.”
“No, I’m not mistaken. It was you as took up with Kitty last summer, and you she ran away with.”
Lord Silverfield’s words about a stranger enquiring for him on the night of Mrs Symthe’s soirée came back to him forcibly. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”
“To make sure that Kitty is safe and well – that is all.” A dull flush suffused his sunburnt face. “I was by way of being betrothed to her – well, that’s all past – but I couldn’t settle for fearing she might of come to harm. London’s a mighty big place, as all knows — t’would be easy enough for her to come to harm. Let me but see her safe and happy, and I’ll be off again.”
“See her? You don’t suppose I keep all the drabs in London in my lodgings, do you?”
The boy’s face tightened in anger, but he still kept his stolid blue eyes fixed on Sir Montagu who grew uneasy at their unwavering regard.
“She wasn’t no drab until you took up with her, and turned her head with your fancy ways and talk! But just tell me where I may find her, and I’ll trouble you no more!”
“As to her whereabouts, you could try searching the streets!” snarled Sir Montagu unpleasantly. “She left my protection some time ago in search of better game, and that, I would say, is where you will find her. Now take yourself off, and count yourself lucky I do not take a horse-whip to you!”
The Other Miss Derwent Page 13