Lord Clifford's Dilemma

by Oliver, Marina

  In the last resort he could have her declared insane, but that would be equally cowardly. She would be locked up, deprived of any normal life, and even though he could pay for a private, comfortable asylum rather than Bedlam, he could not wish it on her. She was young, foolish, wild and selfish, but not really insane. She might, as she grew older, be calmer, even find a man who would love her and whom she might love in return. But where was such a paragon?

  Was she in fact fond of him, as she claimed? Or was it the result of her reading the wretched novels pushed out by the Minerva Press? When he had been looking at these he recalled one where a ward had been married to her guardian. He wished he could remember the outcome. Had it been one of the Gothic horror stories, with haunted castles, and vampires, or a less lurid story? Had the heroine been happy in the end with her elderly husband, or had she been rescued from deadly peril at his hand? He had not done more than glance at the story. Now he wished he had read it more carefully. Despite Elizabeth's defence of them, not all of them featured important themes.

  He decided this was a difficulty he could not discuss with anyone, especially not Elizabeth. Most of his friends would laugh, and not realize the severity of the problem.

  In the end he came to the conclusion there was nothing he could do until he saw how Annamarie behaved to him during the next few days. This was quite unsatisfactory, but he could think of nothing better. Perhaps, in time, a solution would occur to him.

  *

  Elizabeth was puzzled. Annamarie, at dinner, had been uncharacteristically cheerful. She had cast the odd triumphant glance at her, or at Lady Palgrave, but Elizabeth could think of nothing in which the girl might have won some point, and it was only when she thought herself to have scored some success that she displayed such glee.

  Lord Clifford was abstracted, and immediately after dinner said he must go out. Henry had not come back for dinner, having said he had met some friends from Oxford and they had other plans. His sister suspected they were not the sort of plans his mother would want to hear. There were no entertainments planned for that evening, so Lady Markby, saying she was quite worn from all the dissipation of the past few days, took herself off to bed. Lady Palgrave picked up some embroidery, and Annamarie occupied herself with looking through the latest issues of La Belle Assemblée. Elizabeth read her latest novel.

  Soon, Annamarie went up to bed, followed by Lady Palgrave. Elizabeth decided she would finish her Chapter and follow. As she rose she saw Annamarie had left the journal open, and went to tidy it away. The girl had been looking at an illustration of Princess Charlotte's wedding gown, and Elizabeth frowned. Was she, before Lord Clifford had even sanctioned a betrothal, planning her own wedding?

  She was standing still considering this, when Henry came into the drawing room.

  'Where is everyone?' he asked, sounding remarkably cheerful.

  'Lord Clifford is out, everyone else has gone to bed. You are back earlier than I expected.'

  Henry grinned at her.

  'It's all arranged,' he said.

  'What is?'

  'The race. Between Thoroughgood's horse and mine. For next Tuesday, at Epsom.'

  'He agreed?'

  Elizabeth was relieved. If this man had refused to run, she had placed no dependence on Henry's acceptance of it, and had feared he might still issue a challenge of a more deadly nature.

  'Yes, capital fellow. I dined with him and his brother Thomas.'

  Elizabeth shook her head. She would never understand Henry. He had been furious, ready to force a duel on this man, and now was dining with him and treating him as a friend. Henry was still speaking.

  'We met Felix Snaith, and he has agreed to be the judge. Thoroughgood knew him, down in Hampshire, and was quite content to ask him. But you will never guess. The third fellow who almost rode me down was Percy Royle. When I heard I was tempted to issue him a challenge instead. That might have got rid of him for you, Lizzie.'

  'For heaven's sake, don't! I am quite capable of telling him I want no more of him, Henry.'

  'Well, he's not here, so I can't, can I? But he's coming to town some time soon.'

  'Sir Percy? In London? But I understood he wasn't able to, because of his children.'

  'He's sent them to stay with some connections of his wife's. Apparently he does that regularly. He was only staying down in Hampshire with them because he was in dun territory. The house down there isn't his, either. It was left to his wife's brother, who was in the army, but he's sold out, and turfed dear Percy out. Thoroughgood suspects he bribed him to leave. And they said he was thinking of giving up the notion of renting Corby Manor, so you won't have to endure him when you go home.'

  'And they claim men don't gossip,' Elizabeth marvelled. 'You discovered a great deal in one evening.'

  'Well, they didn't like him, and were interested in the way the fellow treated you.'

  Elizabeth's amusement abruptly left her.

  'So I am now the subject of drunken gossip, am I?'

  'We weren't bosky!'

  'Whatever you call it, I would be grateful if you refrain from telling all your cronies my business!'

  He shrugged.

  'You're making a fuss about nothing. I'm off to bed.'

  Unable to concentrate on her book, Elizabeth soon followed him, but she lay awake for a long time wondering why Sir Percy was coming to London, whether he was following her, and if so, what purpose he had in mind. The last time she had seen him, he had threatened her. She told herself she was not afraid of anything he might do to herself, but he could cause her serious annoyance, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  *

  For several days Lord Clifford watched his ward carefully. She seemed cheerful, even calm, and behaved with discretion at the balls and other entertainments they attended. He wondered whether he had dreamed it, but when he caught the occasional knowing glance knew she was merely biding her time, glorying in the apprehension she had caused.

  Yet did she realize how disturbed he was? Did she think he had agreed, and was in love with her, and would soon announce it, and begin to make arrangements for their wedding?

  She was even kinder to Henry, and he saw that the boy was puzzled. Henry had become accustomed to be treated with disdain, and Lord Clifford had been hopeful it would kill any wish he had to marry the chit. Would Henry now raise his hopes once more? He felt like strangling the girl for playing with the lad's emotions.

  Henry announced one evening he wanted them all to witness his race with Thoroughgood, and Annamarie seemed enthusiastic, even asking where she could place a bet that Henry would win.

  'For I'm sure you are the better rider, Henry.'

  'How can you know that? Have you ever seen Thoroughgood ride?' he asked.

  'No, of course not. I wouldn't even know him if I saw him. I just know you are better.'

  Before Henry could dismiss this blind faith in him Lord Clifford intervened.

  'We'll come if the weather is fine,' he promised.

  'I have no intention of going to watch a horse race, fine weather or not,' Lady Markby declared. 'As for betting on it, my dear, that is quite impossible, ladies do not bet.'

  Lord Clifford thought of asking her what she called the stakes, small, he admitted, that she put on the turn of the cards when she went to a card party. Instead he hurried into speech asking Henry about the other horse, for he saw Annamarie opening her mouth, and was sure it would be some impertinent retort. Despite his own annoyance with her he still had to try to control her behaviour towards his guests.

  Henry was vocal and contemptuous, describing his rival's horse in detail as a bone-setter, and praising his own mount as a prime bit of blood, enumerating all its points, until Annamarie said she was tired of talking about horseflesh, and was going to bed.

  'But you will come to the race, won't you,' Henry asked.

  'I suppose so. If Crispin will drive me, but I am not going in that high-perch phaeton of his. I don't trust them not
to overturn, and when – '

  She broke off, and with a secretive smile went out of the room.

  'If there are just the three of us we will take a chaise,' Lord Clifford said. 'Unless, Miss Markby, you would prefer to ride?'

  'Yes, I would,' she replied. 'I do not enjoy riding in London. Tame trots round the Park do not suit me. But what of Annamarie? She is not fond of riding.'

  'There will be other people going in carriages, and someone will take her,' Henry said. 'Felix is taking his curricle, I'm sure he'd enjoy taking her. He said what a pretty girl she was when they met in Hampshire.'

  Lord Clifford expected tears and tantrums when this plan was mentioned to Annamarie, but to his surprise she accepted it with no more than a slight frown. Did she think it would make him jealous? He was so relieved at her docility he wasted no time in fruitless pondering, but looked forward to a long ride with Elizabeth.

  *

  On the following day they were invited to a musical evening by an old friend of the late Lord Clifford. Annamarie pouted slightly, saying she did not enjoy listening to poor singers or incompetent harpists.

  'Be thankful they will not ask you to perform,' Lady Palgrave said sharply. 'You once begged to be able to learn to play the harp, but when you discovered it was not just a matter of sitting looking soulful and plucking the odd string you soon gave up.'

  Elizabeth was startled. Though Lady Palgrave complained endlessly about the child, she had never before openly chastised her in public. Even Annamarie looked surprised at such an attack.

  Lady Markby was nodding in agreement, and Elizabeth surmised that her mother had been urging Lady Palgrave to take a stand.

  'Elizabeth was very good at practising the piano,' Lady Markby now said. 'And she has a very sweet voice. I have never heard you singing, Annamarie.'

  'I could not be bothered to learn. There are enough people warbling and wailing at these musical evenings, and most of them are dreadful.'

  'Do I understand you to say do not care to attend with us?' Lord Clifford asked.

  'It may be better than staying at home.'

  Elizabeth had felt some sympathy with Annamaries's viewpoint, though deploring her comments. To her delight, however, she discovered the performers were not shy debutantes, but a soprano from the opera house, and a violinist of exceptional talent. She listened with great enjoyment, and began to understand what she missed by not spending the Season in London. Nowhere else could she enjoy good theatre and opera, or even talented performances such as these.

  Henry had not accompanied them, saying he was dining with Thoroughgood and Felix in order to discuss the details of the race. Rather to Elizabeth's surprise he was home before them, and he drew her aside as she entered the house.

  'Come into the library for a minute, Lizzie.'

  'What is it? Are you in trouble?' she asked.

  He was indignant.

  'Why should you always think I am in trouble and needing your help?'

  She refrained from saying it was from past experience, and followed him into the library.

  'We went on to – well, never mind where. Royle was there, and I overheard him say he had only to crook his little finger and you would fall into his arms. They were laying bets on how soon you and he would announce your betrothal.'

  'Bets? On me? Henry, how can I stop that devil persecuting me like this? It's intolerable.'

  'Well, I could call him out, but you would disapprove.'

  'Of course I would!'

  'Then the only way to get shot of him by becoming leg-shackled yourself.'

  'So easy!'

  'Clifford's ready to become a tenant for life, by the way he sometimes looks at you. If you made a push you could snare him.'

  Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly. She had for some time been well aware of Lord Clifford's partiality, and had begun to question her own determination not to wed. If he did make her an offer, would she refuse him? She admitted she did not know the answer and told herself crossly it was a hypothetical question.

  'I've no desire to snare any man, and I'd be grateful, when you next hear your friends discussing me and my affairs, if you would ask them to desist. Good night!'

  *

  Rather to Lord Clifford's surprise Annamarie made no objection to the plan for her to drive to Epsom with Felix Snaith. Lady Palgrave came to him and said it was not correct behaviour for a young girl to drive alone with a young man, but he reassured her that he and Elizabeth, with Henry and Mr Thoroughgood and numerous supporters of both, male and female, would be riding or driving in convoy with them, and Felix would have his groom too.

  'I think she will be adequately chaperoned.'

  'If you say so,' she said, 'but I don't like it.'

  He had no great opinion of her sagacity or common sense, but decided to ask her opinion nonetheless. She knew more about young girls than he did.

  'Tell me, Lady Palgrave, does Annamarie appear to be losing interest in Sir Henry? She blows hot and cold, so that I am confused, and he must be more so.'

  Lady Palgrave shook her head.

  'Before we came to London I believed she was regretting her stated determination to marry him. Then I wondered, as she seemed so happy to be in London, and began to treat him with more consideration, but now – I just do not know what to think.'

  'I suppose we just have to wait and see,' he said with a deep sigh.

  He longed to confide in Elizabeth, in the hope she would think of some solution, but he had begun to hope she was showing him some favour, and would look upon a declaration from him with pleasure. It was something he had to delay, for her own sake. It would disturb, and possibly repel her, to know the truth. She might even think he had given Annamarie cause to believe he was fond of her, and that would be a disaster.

  The day of the race came, and a veritable procession set out from Berkeley Square. The two competitors had adopted colours, red for Henry and blue for Thoroughgood, and their supporters carried flags and banners of these colours, or wore coats or bonnets or cravats or scarves to indicate their preference.

  There was a slight delay when Thoroughgood saw that Annamarie was wearing a red scarf, and riding with Felix.

  'That's unfair,' he declared. 'Snaith's the judge, he can't have one of Markby's crowd with him.'

  Annamarie gave him a sweet smile.

  'Give me a blue scarf and I'll wear both,' she said. 'Then you can't say I will influence dear Felix in any way.'

  Thoroughgood snatched a blue scarf from another rider, threw it up to Annamarie, and laughed. Henry scowled, but soon regained his high spirits as they crossed the river and set off on one of the old routes to Brighton, through Ewell and so to Epsom. Lord Clifford stayed to the rear, with Elizabeth.

  'Don't worry, I know of a few places where we can abandon them and go for a gallop,' he said. 'We won't have to keep to this tediously slow pace all the way.'

  She nodded and smiled, but without the usual friendliness. He thought she looked strained, and when they were clear of the London traffic he bluntly asked her what the matter was.

  'I'm angry, and can do nothing about it,' she said, and told him what Henry had reported to her. 'I didn't know the wretched man was in London, and now I am apprehensive about meeting him wherever I go.'

  'Are you afraid?'

  'No, not afraid, but it is uncomfortable to be always wary, never knowing if I might see him. If we meet in someone's house, for instance, I must be polite. I cannot tell the man just what I think of him.'

  'Would you like me to speak to him?'

  'Thank you, but no. He would say you have no right, we are not related, and would ignore you.'

  It was damnable that he had no right to protect her, but there were other ways than a direct confrontation.

  'He cannot hurt me, but I might contrive to have him debarred from his clubs. Or threaten to. He need not know I was involved, or that it was on your behalf.'

  'Thank you, my lord, but I would prefer you did not i
ntervene on my behalf, whether he knows or not. I suspect he would guess, since we are your guests. Please, let us forget him.'

  *

  There was quite a crowd assembled on the Downs. Elizabeth had never attended a regular race meeting, but she assumed they would be like this on a much larger scale. There were more people there than had accompanied them from London, and Lord Clifford suggested news of the race had spread and attracted strangers.

  'Racing has many adherents, and they will attend any event where there is the possibility of laying bets.'

  'Not for the pleasure of seeing the horses race?'

  He laughed.

  'That, my dear, except for a few, is not the prime purpose of horse racing.'

  Elizabeth nodded.

  'It's much better than betting on a cockfight, or on which fly crawls up the window pane fastest. I've heard of such idiotish bets.'

  Felix was driving over the course which had been chosen, with the two competitors, while the spectators settled themselves near the finish and occupied themselves by making bets. Eventually Henry and Mr Thoroughgood agreed all was in order, Felix drove back to the finish, handed the reins to the groom in the rumble seat, and explained to Annamarie that another of his cronies was going to start the race, which was to be over a mile.

  Lord Clifford and Elizabeth sat just behind Felix's curricle. Seated higher up they saw the starter wave a flag, and there was a roar from those spectators who had gone to watch the start. Several were mounted, and many of these set off after the two principals, hallooing and shouting.

  'The fools!' Elizabeth heard Felix exclaim. 'They could get in the way, or confuse the horses.'

  'But it makes it more exciting, surely, to have more horses running?' Annamarie asked. 'Look, that black has already overtaken Henry!'

  'And I can't see which of them is in the lead, confound him!'