by Carol Arens
‘So, Mama,’ he said abruptly, ‘why are you here?’
‘Why should I not be? Chelwood is your home and you are my son. There is no mystery to it.’
‘That has always been the case, but you have not seen fit to visit before, or at least not for many years.’
‘There were reasons, as you well know,’ she said pettishly.
‘I could point out that you divorced your husband, not your son, but that would be stating the obvious. What I wish to know is why you have returned now, having stayed away so long?’
He thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.
‘It’s quite simple.’ She attempted an airy tone. ‘Sufficient time has passed between now and the rather unpleasant events to which you refer. I thought it time to see you again.’
Surely she could do better than that? he thought derisively. He wanted to laugh out loud but instead schooled his face into a blank mask. ‘So why did you not let me know you were coming? You have arrived out of the blue and no doubt sent my household into a flurry. I have little contact with polite society, but is it not still usual to announce one’s arrival, even, dare I say, wait for an invitation.’
‘Pooh!’ She brushed aside his criticism. ‘Chivers dealt with my arrival admirably. Really he has grown into an excellent butler—you would never have guessed it for he was such an awkward young man when Lucien first employed him. But where were you last night, Justin? I would not have thought country delights could have kept you out so long and so late.’
He had no intention of explaining his absence and neither was he going to allow her to change the subject. ‘So why did you not write to me of your decision to visit?’ he persisted.
‘I did write.’
‘Only to tell me that your esteemed husband had found himself more entertaining company.’
‘Surely that was enough. It was hard to write even that.’
For the first time, her voice lost its false animation and for the first time Justin felt the stirrings of pity. She bowed her head and he noticed how frail her shoulders were, how the rich satin of her dress hung limply on the thin frame.
‘I am sorry that things have come to this pass,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But I cannot think that Chelwood is the answer to your problems.’
‘What other solution can you offer me, Justin? I have nowhere else to go.’
And now he was staring into her eyes, wide and scared. Her face, so smooth and lovely when he had last looked upon it, had crumpled into lines of terror at the future she faced.
‘Nowhere to go? You have friends, surely?’
‘Friends!’ She almost spat the word. ‘I have no friends. They are hangers-on, fair-weather people who trim their sails according to the wind. And the wind is definitely blowing the wrong way for me. When I married the duke, my every move was dogged by a trail of admirers—flattering, effusive. They were always in the house, always with me. Of course, Dorian is so rich he could afford to support any number of fawning courtiers. But now that is over. I am an abandoned woman, a poor prospect for a social climber.’
Justin knew his mother’s world sufficiently well to realise that this latest scandal would have rung out across London. There had already been too many scandals in Lavinia’s life, he thought, and this time she would not survive. None of her so-called friends would offer sanctuary for fear of being tainted by association.
‘I presume the duke has closed up the London house?’
‘Naturally. His latest inamorata is an Italian princess and it is to Italy that he has gone. He intends to buy a large estate there, I believe. Bianca will require the very finest, you can be sure.’
‘And he has left you with nothing? Can that really be the case?’
‘It may be hard for you to believe, but it is the truth. When I entered marriage with the duke, I had no voice in the settlement. I was without family to oversee the negotiations and no money to afford a lawyer to protect my interests. And after all, I was bringing little into the marriage except myself—by the time I met Dorian, I had run through what small capital I possessed. It follows then that as soon as I became worthless to the duke, I was forced to leave with just as little.’
Was Lavinia suggesting that his father had left the wife he adored without means? That could not be so.
‘I imagine you received a settlement at the time of the divorce,’ he said in a colourless voice. He hated to talk about this wretched time in his life.
‘A small settlement, Justin. Your father was not ungenerous, but neither was he very generous. And I am an expensive woman.’ She gave a small, hesitant laugh. ‘The money I received from Lucien ran out very quickly and a condition of the divorce was that I must never petition for more.’
It gave him a jolt to realise that his father could lack sentiment, even feeling, towards the woman he had loved to distraction. There were reasons, of course, but still, it did not quite accord with the picture of Lucien Delacourt that he held in his heart. In some agitation he strode to the window, drumming his fingers on the wood of the broad sill. He looked out at the grassy expanse still wet from autumn mist and in the distance the soft lines of trees, a faded blur on the horizon. This was a landscape he loved, a landscape he would defend with his life. His mother did not belong here and he felt a vague, anonymous threat gathering pace and stiffened himself to meet it.
‘I suppose there is no question of a reconciliation between yourself and the duke?’ The question was crass, but he felt trapped, defensive.
Lavinia jumped up from her perch, twisting her mouth into a small, bitter shape. ‘The principessa is twenty-five. Do you think he is likely to return to me?’ She fixed him with an unflinching gaze and, when he did not respond, exclaimed in a voice which shook, ‘Look at me!’
There was a long silence while they faced each other across the room. At length Lavinia took a deep breath and said quietly, ‘Would you have me return to a man who has brought public shame on me? I have not been a good person, Justin, I think we are both agreed on that, but for the last seven years I have tried to be a dutiful wife. I believe that I succeeded—perhaps too well. What those years have taught me is that there is no greater comfort than an unspoiled conscience. I would never willingly go back to one who has sullied my life in such despicable fashion.’
‘I understand your repugnance, but I cannot believe you will be happy living miles from the slightest gaiety or distraction.’ He paused for a moment, unwilling even now to capitulate, but then forced himself to continue, ‘However, for as long as you wish to stay at Chelwood, you are welcome to do so.’
His mother smiled faintly. ‘Thank you. I will endeavour to be a conformable house guest. But there would appear to be far more distraction in the neighbourhood than you own. Do tell me, where were you last night?’
‘I had business to attend to and it took rather longer than I expected,’ he said shortly. ‘If you will excuse me, I must leave you to your own devices. You will see that the estate has fallen into some disrepair and there is much to do. I have not seen Mellors for several days—he is the new bailiff—and I am aware that he has a long list of things he wishes to discuss.’
He nodded a brief farewell and made for the door, but then something prompted him to turn and say, ‘I intend to invite one or two of my neighbours to Chelwood in the next day or so and you will most likely meet them.’
Lavinia raised her beautifully shaped eyebrows. ‘They must be special people if you have invited them here. The place has always been well guarded against intruders, or at least it was under Lucien’s rule.’
He was tempted to retort that she and her friends had frequently breached Chelwood’s walls, but said instead, ‘I will leave you to decide whether or not they are special. You may remember Henrietta Croft—she was a good friend of my father’s. She has a young companion, Eliz
abeth Ingram, who will accompany her.’
‘And I imagine it is Elizabeth Ingram that is the attraction,’ his mother said shrewdly.
He did not answer her. ‘If you are to remain at Chelwood, I would like you to meet them both.’
‘Miss Elizabeth is evidently important to you. But why must I wait until she comes to Chelwood to meet her? Chivers tells me that today is Rye’s annual fair and that it is magnificent. Why do you not send a note to Brede House—have I that right?—and ask them both to meet us there?’
‘Mrs Croft is too infirm to attend any fair.’ He was impatient to be gone and annoyed that his mother was taking so much interest in this very personal project.
‘But the young woman would enjoy it greatly, I am sure,’ Lavinia pursued.
Justin thought for a moment. He would have to introduce his mother to Lizzie, there was no escape from it, and it might be better that their first meeting took place informally.
‘I would love to go, Justin. It is a very long time since I attended such an event.’
‘You would not enjoy it.’
‘You would be surprised. I have changed a great deal since we last met. For one thing, I have learned to find pleasure in simple things.’
He would be surprised, he thought. Simple pleasures and his mother were hardly bedfellows. It was far more likely that she was already planning to summon to her side the detestable people she had earlier denounced.
‘So you will not be expecting London society to keep you company at Chelwood?’
‘Have you listened to nothing I’ve said? Or is it that you mistrust me so completely? You are too suspicious for your own good, my angel. You always were. I imagine that comes from Lucien. But you must not think so badly of me. There are always two sides to every question.’
She saw his sceptical expression and went on, ‘I understand more than you think. I am aware of what you suffered in your youth. You are a grown man and yet you still flush when I talk of it. It pains you, I can see. The deed itself was nothing—a mere rite of passage—but the gossip, the innuendo, the husband who pretended he wished to call you out—my poor dear, that was a shameful humiliation to visit upon you.’
He was shocked to realise that his mother had guessed at his feelings. He had always imagined her indifferent, or worse, laughing with friends at his discomfiture. It seemed that was not so. She had not laughed, but had been powerless to prevent his humbling. And powerless to prevent the scandal that had dogged his young years and sent him hurtling into the army, desperate to escape the clutch of women.
She watched him measuringly. ‘So will you escort me this afternoon and introduce me to this young lady? I am most anxious to meet her.’
He made a swift decision. ‘I will send a note to Brede House.’
‘Excellent. Meanwhile my maid can unpack my portmanteaux. The dresses will be horribly creased, but she can press the plainest one and we will sally forth to Rye together.’ Her tone was almost carefree.
He bowed a farewell, but had gone only a few steps into the hall when Chivers approached him bearing a silver salver. ‘A letter, sir, just arrived. I did not get sight of the messenger.’
Justin glanced at the hand without recognition. The letter had to be from Lizzie, he thought, though the writing seemed clumsy. Eagerly he tore open the envelope and found himself disappointed but intrigued—it appeared that someone else wanted to meet him at the fair.
Chapter Eleven
Lizzie woke from a deep sleep. Hester was moving around the room, gathering the clothes she had thrown off when she fell into bed at dawn. Somehow she would have to explain the crumpled and soiled nightgown, but not now. She lay still and soundless until the maid went downstairs. A thread of excitement was tugging at her from the tip of her head to her smallest toe. Justin was her lover and she hugged that knowledge close. He had made love to her as she had always dreamed of being loved and a bleak future had turned rose coloured. True, he hadn’t told her he loved her, but surely that would come. In all other ways he had shown her the depth of his feelings and she had been left tingling with happiness.
At the sound of Hester’s retreating footsteps, she opened her eyes. The promise of early dawn had been fulfilled and a hazy circle of gold now shone from a cloudless sky. It would be a beautiful day and with luck she would meet her lover. She scrambled out of bed and quickly washed, then donned the dress of primrose-floret sarsnet that she had not worn since its return from Chelwood, cleaned and pressed. Would she be visiting there today in this self-same dress, but this time not as a trespasser? She hoped very much so; she would make sure there were new slippers on her feet and a newly refurbished reticule in her hand. Anxiously she checked the mirror. Her complexion was smooth and clear, warm with happiness, her curls shining but hopelessly tangled. She should go to Mrs Croft, but first she must set her hair to rights. Standing before the glass, she carefully arranged her ringlets to tumble from a chignon atop her head and cluster about her neck and cheeks in wisps of silk. It was a style that would not have been out of place in a ballroom, but she did not care. Today she wanted to look as special as she felt.
Satisfied with what she saw, she tripped down the stairs into the small, square hall. A thick white envelope lay on the console table, her name clearly inscribed on the front. As long as Mrs Croft was willing, she would be going to Chelwood this very day!
Hester appeared from the kitchen and busied up to her. There was a doubtful expression on her face and her voice was just this side of querulous. ‘Are you all right, Miss Lizzie?’
‘Of course I am. Why should I not be?’
‘There’s a gown of yours in the laundry that looks as though it fell into the marsh,’ she said accusingly. ‘Yet this morning, you’re looking as fine as fivepence.’
Lizzie laughed as naturally as she could. ‘Now what would I be doing in the marsh? As for looking fine, I have dressed for the day—the sun is shining bright and there is not a cloud in the sky.’
Hester sniffed a little too loudly. ‘That’s as may be, but what’s happening in this house is more important. Mrs Croft has been asking for you—the poor dear is feeling poorly again.’
‘I am so sorry,’ Lizzie said quickly. ‘I will go to her this minute.’ Hester sniffed once more.
She left the maid looking dubious and ran back up the stairs to Henrietta’s bedroom, clasping the envelope tightly in her hand. Mrs Croft’s voice was slight and fading as she bade her enter. The old lady was sitting upright in bed, a mound of pillows behind her, and an empty tea cup nearby. Her face was tired and white.
‘Forgive me for being late, Mrs Croft. I suffered a bad night and no one woke me.’
‘I told Hester not to disturb you. You have been looking a little wan of late, my dear, and I do not want you to fall ill. One invalid in the house is sufficient.’ The old lady gave her a penetrating look. ‘But you seem much recovered this morning. Perhaps it was only sleep that you lacked.’
‘It must have been,’ Lizzie agreed, grateful that she need offer no further explanation. ‘Now that I am here, what tasks have you for me? The newspaper has arrived if you would care to have it read. Or I could finish sorting your workbox while you watch—so far I have only tidied one layer.’
Mrs Croft shrank back into her bed. ‘I think not, my dear. I shall spend the day very quietly and Hester will bring me whatever refreshment I require. But you have a letter.’ She pointed to the crisp, white object in her companion’s hand.
If she opened it here, Lizzie thought, she might get the permission she needed.
She slit open the envelope. ‘It is from Sir Justin Delacourt. An invitation, Mrs Croft. He wants me to...to meet him at the fair. Both of us are to meet him at the fair.’ It was a surprise; she had expected a visit to Chelwood and here was Justin wanting to see her in a public place and amid a crowd of peo
ple.
‘That will be the annual Rye fair. Hester mentioned it this morning and I told her she may go.’
‘Then I had better not.’ Despondency began to weigh on her.
‘Of course, you must go. It is a marvellous occasion. Hester will be gone a few hours only and I do not need constant attention—at least not yet.’ The jest was weak, but the pressure of her hand on Lizzie’s arm was determined.
‘You must write to Justin, though, and tell him that I am not fit enough to join you both. But give him my very best wishes and tell him there is always a welcome for him here.’
Henrietta was getting more tired by the minute and Lizzie could see that the old lady was waiting for her to leave so that she could once more fall into a doze. That was fortunate. There was only an hour before she was supposed to meet Justin and the walk into town was a long one.
‘If you’re sure that you will do well on your own...’
‘Go, my dear, go!’ Henrietta shushed her out of the room. ‘Walk there with Hester and make sure that you both enjoy yourselves.’
* * *
Lizzie had expected a modest affair—Rye was only a small town, after all—and she was taken aback as she and Hester walked through the Strand Gate. A veritable cacophony of smells and noises greeted them as they reached the bottom of Mermaid Street, today as innocent and unthreatening as any other in the town. Hester linked arms with her and together they marched firmly up the infamous road to the square of streets above. Each was filled with noise and bustle and everywhere booths and standings spilled out over the thoroughfare, many of them crammed high with food. There were stalls for oysters, stalls for hot pies and sausages—disappearing at a rapid rate—and lines and lines of gilt gingerbread. Tables were set here and there for people to sit and eat their fill. There were stalls selling clothes and toy stalls for the children, gay with decorative paint and coloured lamps. But the predominant interest of the fair was entertainment. Lizzie saw in the distance the Rector of St Mary’s looking somewhat aghast, and she wondered whether he had given his approval to such wholesale abandonment: horse riders doing tricks were everywhere, tumblers, illusionists, even a knife swallower. In the background a band of itinerant musicians consisting of a double drum, a Dutch organ, a tambourine, violin and pipes were playing a selection of military tunes. She strolled past food and toy stalls, past the fire eater who was drawing gasps from his captive crowd, past the puppet show. By now she had lost sight of Hester, who had lingered at several of the stalls. She would leave the maid to choose new trimmings for her hat, she decided, while she herself made for the church, for it was almost two and Justin would be waiting.