Realising that Tom was still waiting for an answer, she said distantly, ‘He’s clever. He’s probably also the only one amongst your mother’s motley crew of guests who could not only appreciate The Trojan but also ride him.’
*
She spent the rest of the day – as, indeed, she spent every day – at the beck and call of her aunt. The only difference was that today the weekly task of untangling and sorting the embroidery silks was performed to an accompanying lecture. Adeline answered with economy when required and allowed the tide to flow over her. It was the first art she had learned in this house and still the most useful.
In the early days, bewildered by change, she had tried to go on as before, escaping from time to time in order to walk barefoot on the grass again and imagine herself far, far away from the cage that now possessed her. At first, her aunt had done no more than rap her knuckles and scold; then she took to confining her in her chamber for a day or two. And finally, when all else failed and Adeline – aided by a young and impressionable stable-hand – was caught trying to run away, her ladyship had ordered a beating.
A part of the older Adeline was able to appreciate the inevitability of what had happened – but not the manner of it. For, Sir Roland having felt unequal to the task, it had been her Uncle Richard who had taken his riding-crop to her back … and who had, quite unmistakeably, enjoyed it. She had spat in his face, ruining his maquillage and it had felt like a victory. But not for long. Not once she found herself shut in the dark, cut off from every sight and sound of freedom.
That week had taught her to conform and marked the beginning of her metamorphosis. For having begun by simply erecting invisible defensive barriers about herself, she had swiftly progressed to the discovery that it was also possible to fight back in small ways – if one was subtle. And the result was a now flawless technique for combining apparent docility with an under-current of clever, hard to combat acidity. Self-protection and self-destruction inextricably woven into one; and she knew it.
These days, her aunt was rarely unkind and Adeline had come to recognise that what she had at first taken for personal dislike was in reality more a mixture of indifference and resentment. Indifference because a dowerless niece was useless in the marriage market and resentment at having the child of her dead sister – a sister, moreover, whom she had plainly despised – foisted upon her. The truth, of course, was that Lady Miriam was merely an ambitious, unfeeling woman whose small store of affection was centred on Andrew and Diana – and, to a lesser extent, on young Tom. Althea, existing perpetually in the shadows, was the recipient only of duty and a good deal of impatience; and Sir Roland, except in his role as provider, appeared barely to impinge on his wife’s consciousness at all.
All things considered, it was an ill-assorted and not especially happy household. Andrew - loathing the role of delicate, dutiful son in which his mother had cast him but too spineless to repudiate it - grew daily more irritable and sulky. Diana, self-absorbed and brought up to place too high a value on her beauty, was capable of creating utter havoc when crossed. And Richard Horton … sly, sadistic and too idle to fend for himself, all-too-frequently used his brother-in-law’s house as a refuge from his creditors.
Nor, as Adeline had intimated to Tom, were Lady Miriam’s regular guests much improvement. Lewis Garfield had money but few graces and his sister, the face and voice of a shrew. The Osborne’s were intent on finding an entrée to polite society and Sir Oswald Pickering and his daughter Lizzie cared for little save the hunting field. About Lord Harry Caversham, Adeline as yet knew very little. He was apparently her Uncle Richard’s newest friend; but, aside from that rather damning fact, he seemed a pleasant enough young man – and also appeared to be on very easy terms with Tracy Wynstanton and his sister.
Tracy Wynstanton? A mistake, that. He was the Duke of Rockliffe now – and it was something she would do well to remember. But she could not help wondering how he was going to enjoy two weeks of the kind of company to be found in this house. Very little, she suspected sardonically. It was almost a pity that she would not, from her position in the background, be privileged to see it. Almost a pity; almost – but not quite. For she was very well aware that if she didn’t want her hard-won resignation to be damaged by useless recollections of that other, unrestricted life, then the background was the only place to be.
It worked for two days and would have gone on doing so had not his Grace of Rockliffe – sophisticated, clever and possessed of a streak of pure devilment – decided to set the cat amongst the pigeons.
~ * * * ~
FIVE
After forty-eight hours of being openly pursued by Diana, fawned on by Jane Osborne and bored to death by Sir Oswald, Rockliffe came to the conclusion that, if he was to survive the fortnight, something would have to be done to preserve his sanity.
It was not, he felt, that he was particularly hard to please. On the contrary. All he required was a modicum of amusing conversation, a little riding perhaps and the occasional, stimulating hand of cards. But the conversation was banal in the extreme; the rides – when taken between neck-or-nothing Lizzie Pickering and a coquettish chit with probably the worst hands in four counties – were a nightmare; and the one game of macao he’d played with Richard Horton had resulted in a mood of dire foreboding and a few very private words with Harry Caversham.
‘May I ask if Mr Horton is a particularly close friend of yours, Harry?’
Mobile brows soared over startled blue eyes.
‘Dick? Lord, no! I haven’t known the fellow above a month or two. Met him at Devane’s – or that discreet little place off Bruton Street, I think. One of them, anyway. Why do you ask?’
The Duke gazed thoughtfully down at his snuff-box and ignored the question.
‘I see. Do you often play in such … do you know, I really think I am forced to call them … hells?’
‘And so they are,’ came the cordial reply. Then,‘No. I don’t frequent them and I don’t intend to start. Devil take it, Rock – you know I’m not a gamester!’
‘I do, of course. But neither, my dear, did I suppose you a flat.’
His lordship’s habitual levity evaporated.
‘What are you saying precisely?’
His Grace sighed.
‘I am saying – and I do beg that you will not feel impelled to repeat it just yet – that your dear friend Richard fuzzes the cards.’ He paused and met Harry’s astounded gaze with one of indulgent mockery. ‘I really am surprised you hadn’t noticed.’
It was not a good start; nor, with Nell growing daily more flirtatious, was there any promise of improvement. Rockliffe found that he did not care to see his sister acquiring the same unfortunate manners and techniques employed by Mistress Diana and he was determined, at the end of this horrendous visit, to break the association. But in the meantime he was most definitely not enjoying himself. Indeed, the only light relief so far had been provided by young Tom Franklin, who seemed to have more sense than the rest of his family put together and who had introduced him to the best bit of horse-flesh he’d seen in months. But the prospect of persuading Tom’s father to part with The Trojan was little consolation for having to spend another twelve days in purgatory; and it was thus that, when he experienced the first stirrings of his own particular devil, Rockliffe did nothing to silence them.
He began by encouraging Diana to go her length – a process which, in a well brought-up girl, would have required a lot more than merely alternating his very real indifference with a few ambiguous and faintly indulgent compliments. And then, without any prior planning whatsoever and purely because he couldn’t resist the opportunity, he went on to hoist Diana’s mama with her own petard.
It occurred on the third evening that the extended company sat down to dine and Lady Miriam bemoaned, at some length, the unexpected departure of Sir Oswald’s wife.
‘I fear that I must crave your indulgence, your Grace,’ she began, ‘for the fact that we shall be but fiftee
n to dinner. Poor Mary has been called to the side of her eldest girl who is about to give Frensham an heir. And though of course one understands completely, it is rather regrettable. Quite vexing, in fact – since it means we are a lady short. I can only hope, however, that you will appreciate the suddenness of it all and not judge us too harshly. You may believe that I am not so poor a hostess that I could not have remedied the situation had I been granted a modicum of warning. Sadly, I was not.’
If Rockliffe found the tenor of this speech in any way remarkable, he did not show it but merely said smoothly, ‘It is very unfortunate, of course. But these small trials, so they say, are sent by the Almighty to try us.’
‘Quite possibly.’ Her ladyship’s tone suggested that, if this were the case, the Almighty would presently receive her views on the subject. ‘Certainly it seems that there is nothing to be done. I only wish there were for, of all things, I particularly dislike an unequal party.’
‘Indeed,’ murmured his Grace. A glint that any of his close friends would have instantly recognised appeared in his eyes. ‘Indeed. But I would have thought that a very obvious remedy is already at hand.’
‘Oh? And what, pray, is that?’
‘Why… simply to have your niece join the party,’ came the bland reply. ‘It seems, if you will permit me to say so, perfectly proper that she should do so – and, under the circumstances, it would appear to be the only possible solution.’
He smiled lazily and Lady Miriam stared at him, for once in her life bereft of speech. Finally, she said stiffly, ‘Adeline has no taste for society.’
‘My sister has no taste for rational conversation,’ responded Rockliffe lightly. ‘It is a fault, however, that I hope to correct.’
Her gaze sharpened and, for the second time, she sought a suitably quelling reply. Then, failing to find it, she said lamely, ‘You may be right. I will consider the matter. It is quite impossible, of course, to change the arrangements for this evening.’
‘Perish the thought! But – with no less than five young ladies to be adequately chaperoned – you will also, I feel sure, consider both the propriety and the advantages of enlisting Mistress Kendrick’s assistance with the task,’ he observed sweetly. ‘Beginning, perhaps, tomorrow?’
He had, of course, no way of knowing exactly what he’d started.
*
‘I won’t have it!’ cried Diana petulantly. ‘She’s no notion at all how to behave in polite company and I don’t want her there spoiling my chances and making her nasty little remarks. It’s the most stupid idea I ever heard!’
‘Possibly it is,’ snapped her mother. ‘But if you have been attending to what I’ve just said, you’ll realise that the Duke has left me little choice.’
‘I don’t see why. It’s none of his business.’
‘No. And I’d as soon he was given no excuse to make it so,’ came the exasperated reply. ‘Have you no conception of what we are dealing with here? Rockliffe has a reputation as a wit and a raconteur. They say he misses nothing. He also has the power to make or break aspiring debutantes – or else turn them into a laughing-stock. Is that what you want?’
‘He wouldn’t. He couldn’t! Not to me.’
‘I’m glad you’re so sure. Unfortunately, we can’t afford the risk.’
There was a long silence and then, for the first time, Diana’s bright gaze moved to rest squarely on her cousin’s still figure.
‘All right,’ she said, with suppressed violence. ‘All right. But if you ever get in my way … if you ever dare to presume on the fact that you’ve met the Duke before, I’ll make sure you regret it. Is that understood?’
‘Perfectly,’ replied Adeline dryly. ‘With you, what else would I expect?’
Furious cornflower eyes met aquamarine ones filled with detached irony and, for a brief instant, the years rolled back to the day when, catching Diana taking a heavy stick to her pony, Adeline had dealt her own summary justice. Then it was gone and Diana was saying savagely, ‘Mind your manners – and try to remember that you’re only here out of charity.’
‘How could I ever forget?’
‘That will do,’ said Lady Miriam. ‘Adeline – I have told you many times that I consider your tone unsuitably sarcastic. Diana – I am grieved to say that your conduct this morning has been somewhat unbecoming and that you must strive to master your temper. Now … I wish to hear no more such squabbling. Adeline will dine with us this evening – and you need not concern yourself in any way, Diana. She knows exactly what is required of her, do you not, Adeline?’
‘Oh yes. To the letter.’
‘Good. Then the matter is settled … except, that is, for the question of what you will wear.’
‘Well, it’s no use asking me to give her anything because I shan’t!’ stated Diana. ‘Let her come as she is. I don’t care!’
‘Then you should or we shall all be made ridiculous,’ replied her mother tartly, her eyes turning back to encompass her niece. ‘Althea gave you her straw-coloured taffeta, I believe. That will have to do for this evening since you have presumably already altered it to fit. For the future, we must contrive something. Let me think. Yes. You may have my mulberry brocade. It is a trifle behind the mode but that is of little consequence. There is also a grey-striped polonaise which I have never cared for and not worn above twice. And you, Diana, will produce that green tiffany which turned out to be not at all the shade we thought and which does not become you in the least. And that,’ she concluded, ‘should be more than sufficient. Diana, you may re-join our guests – and remember to be careful what you say in front of Cecily Garfield. Adeline – come with me. You may collect the gowns now so that Thérèse can help you to alter them.’
And, so saying, she sailed majestically to the door.
*
A brief but distinct hush fell across the drawing-room when Adeline entered it that evening, but she had expected that. What she had not expected, but perhaps should have done, was that it would be broken by Cecily Garfield saying clearly, ‘My goodness, Di – I thought you were joking. How perfectly frightful!’
Diana, under the admonitory gaze of her mother and therefore unable to reply as she would have liked, contented herself with a speaking glance and immediately resumed her conversation with Nell. Althea, miserably embarrassed but too nervous to move, welcomed her cousin as best she could with a tense smile; and Harry Caversham’s blue eyes travelled from face to face with growing surprise and distaste. No one else seemed inclined to acknowledge Adeline’s presence at all.
No one, that is, except for his Grace of Rockliffe who strolled urbanely into the centre of the stage, made Mistress Kendrick the bow for which he was famous and said with a smile, ‘Good evening. I am delighted your aunt was able to persuade you to join us for I’d begun to fear my ill-timed pleasantry of the other day had driven you to avoid me. Dare I hope that I’m forgiven and that we may now talk over old times?’
It sounded, on the face of it, like a graceful apology. Adeline, seeing the glint in his eyes, knew better.
‘Devil,’ she thought. And said, ‘Certainly – if that is your wish. But there is nothing to forgive. The truth, so far as I’m aware, never hurt anyone.’
‘Your mistake, then.’ He was at her side now and able to lower his voice. ‘The truth can be the sharpest weapon of all … if, of course, one wields it correctly.’
‘As you do, you mean?’ she asked. And then, suddenly unable to stop herself, ‘Why did you do it?’
His smile gathered an element of provocation and he went on as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘Take, for example, that gown you are wearing. It is, I presume, one of those donated to you by Mistress Althea?’
‘Yes. Can’t you see that I’ve no desire to be part of this farce?’
‘Just so. Now … candour would compel me to own that you were quite right. It doesn’t suit you in the least and, in fact, looks quite appalling.’
‘Thank you.’
�
�You see? A perfect example of truth. But if I add a grain or two more … that the gown itself is an over-trimmed disaster and that your cousin – being a blonde – probably looked worse in it than you do … well, then the matter becomes rather different.’ Calmly, he flicked open his snuff-box and appeared to help himself from it. ‘I, myself,’ he finished reflectively, ‘would dress you in pale blue silk and silver tissue.’
‘You won’t be granted the opportunity,’ she returned coldly. ‘I suppose you realise the trouble you’re causing? Yes – of course you do. It’s the only reason I’m here, isn’t it? To dilute the monotony for you by forcing everybody to associate with the poor relation who ought, by rights, to be kept decently out of sight.’
‘In part, yes. But you are overlooking something.’
‘Which is?’
‘That you possess the inestimable advantage of being neither dull nor vulgar.’
The air in her lungs evaporated and she silently damned him for it.
‘Dear me,’ she said satirically. ‘You can’t conceive how flattered I am.’
Rockliffe laughed, causing Lord Harry’s brows to fly up and Diana to clench unladylike fists. Nearer to hand and equally unladylike, Adeline experienced a strong desire to box his ears.
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘Everything is relative, after all. And try not to look so murderous. Your aunt is about to descend. I wonder who … ah. Yes. The so-cultivated and charming Mr Garfield. You have my sympathy. He will not, I think, amuse you.’
‘Well of course he won’t,’ came the waspish, low-voiced reply. ‘He’s so aware of his own consequence, he’s unlikely even to speak to me.’
‘No, no. For where I lead – how can he fail to follow?’ murmured the Duke wickedly. And turned, smiling, to face Lady Miriam.
He was, as it transpired, quite right. For though Lewis Garfield was by no means pleased to be seated by a Poor Relation, he knew that it would not do for him to appear higher in the instep than Rockliffe himself. He therefore condescended to address Mistress Kendrick from time to time – and, in doing so, discovered her an admirable audience. It was not, obviously, as satisfactory as being placed beside the Lady Elinor; but Adeline’s contemplative gaze and monosyllabic answers were a vast improvement on Lizzie Pickering’s forceful tones and wandering attention. And she had, he suddenly noticed, a remarkably beautiful neck.
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