His only excuse, and it was an inadequate one, was that he had found himself in a situation which was entirely foreign to him. His relationships with other women had been lightly begun and as lightly ended. His relationship with Anne had been growing and changing so rapidly that until that day he had had no idea just how very different it was, how important she had in fact become to him.
The following morning he had almost gone to see her before he left, to try to put things right, but then had decided to leave it till the evening. What could he have said to her? The situation at Hatherton could not continue as it was. Something had to be done about it, but he was damned if he knew what. Anne ought to leave Hatherton before long, but how could he bear to let her go? And where could she go? One or two people he knew in Guildford might suggest a few of the answers, and after he had spoken to them he would make sure he got back to Hatherton in good time to talk to Anne.
As soon as he had arrived in the town he had sought out an old army friend, a medical man who had treated men whose memories had been lost through some sort of shock in battle. He had listened with interest to James’s carefully edited account of ‘a friend’s’ memory loss and said finally, ‘It sounds to me as if you’re giving your friend exactly what she needs for the moment. She has been through an extremely threatening experience and has quite literally put it out of her mind. All the evidence would suggest that the memory loss is temporary, and it will very probably return as soon as she feels fit enough to deal with whatever it was that happened. Whatever you do, do not tell her who she is. Let her remember it for herself.’
‘I couldn’t tell her if I wanted to, Edgar. I have no idea who she is.’
‘Really? So this is an act of charity?’
‘You could say so,’ James had said, avoiding his friend’s eye.
‘An intriguing situation. I admire you for it. You are obviously concerned for her, James. It will hasten her cure if you show her your concern. Make her feel protected. Give her a sense of greater security. And…let me know what happens.’
* * *
James had then dealt with the rest of his business, including a short consultation with his lawyers, and had set off for Hatherton in good time. On the way back he had considered his friend’s advice, and found himself faced with a dilemma. According to his friend the worst thing he could do would be to send Anne away to fend for herself. On the other hand, they could not stay together at Hatherton for much longer. Their feelings for one another had reached a point where some sort of crisis was inevitable. But Anne might be another man’s wife, and it would be dishonourable to ask her to betray him by staying on at Hatherton.
Moreover, it had occurred to him in the night that, the longer Anne stayed, the more likely it was to reach the ears of the gossips that James Aldhurst was entertaining a young lady at his grandmother’s country retreat. Then the fat would really be in the fire! Whatever her status, single, betrothed or married, nothing then could save Anne from scandal. His reputation might suffer, but hers could be destroyed for ever.
In the end he had decided that there was only one sensible thing to do. The next morning he would go to London to talk to his grandmother. She must be persuaded to offer Anne a home until her memory returned, or her identity was established. Meanwhile, there was still time to see Anne that evening…and when he arrived he had gone straight upstairs to look for her. But Anne was not in her room, and when Rose told him that she had left Hatherton he could hardly take it in.
‘She can’t have! Where would she go?’
‘Mrs Culver’s brother took her to London, my lord.’
‘What? When?’
Rose had taken one look at his face and faltered. ‘This morning. Miss Anne left a note for you…It’s here.’
James had read the note in silence, then dismissed Rose and sent for Mrs Culver. ‘I believe I told you once,’ he had said, keeping command of himself with difficulty, ‘that Miss Anne was to stay here until I was sure she was safe. And now you have sent her away!’
‘Master James, I can explain—’
‘No,’ James had said curtly, ‘you will listen. I warned you at the time that you and I would fall out if Anne came to any harm through anything you said or did.’
Mrs Culver protested, ‘But she wanted to go. And she’s safe enough, I swear! She’s with—’
‘With your niece in London. I know. Tell me, if you please, how Miss Anne is to support herself there? She has no money, no clothes…’
‘I…I gave her some money. I had a little put by. And she can work in my niece’s house until she finds something better…’ Her voice had faded as she had seen James’s expression.
‘I hope you kept something for yourself, Mrs Culver. If any harm has come to her, you might find you have need of it, I promise you.’
‘Your grandmother is my mistress,’ Mrs Culver had said somewhat truculently. ‘I did it for her. And there’s no harm—’
James had lost his temper. ‘No harm?’ he had said, his voice trembling with rage. ‘No harm? You have sent a vulnerable, gently bred girl—for she is a lady, make no mistake about that—to earn a living as a servant! If her memory never returned, you would have her condemned to work as a skivvy, with no protection, no hope of escape from a life of drudgery. And you claim it was for my grandmother! Lady Aldhurst would not thank you for it, believe me! You have never done a worse day’s work in your life! But at least I know where to find her. And tomorrow I shall take her to stay with my grandmother in Brook Street, where she will be treated as a guest.’
‘Master James—’
‘Please leave me your niece’s address, and see to it that my groom and the stables are informed of my wish to leave for London as soon as it is light tomorrow.’ He had gone to the door and held it open. ‘Now go! Leave your niece’s direction in the hall. I don’t wish to see you again before I know that Miss Anne is safe.’
* * *
Left alone in Anne’s bedroom, James had looked round. The room was full of her—pale and motionless in the bed, in a chair by the fire in his grandmother’s blue robe, clinging to him in the grip of a nightmare, laughing at him over the game of chess…She had left the copy of Persuasion on the bed. What sort of a life would he have if he never found her again? But that was nonsense. Cully had at least ensured that she was safe for the night. And in the morning he would collect her and take her to live with his grandmother until…Until what? Until she remembered that she had a husband? A family, even? No! He refused to believe it! Anne was his.
And so he had come to London in search of her. By noon he was on Henrietta Street, where he was devastated to learn that Anne had abandoned Mr Cobden’s gig in the middle of Park Lane, and had not been seen since. His plans had fallen apart.
Mr Cobden’s good turn had gone disastrously wrong, and he was full of self-condemnation. ‘I should have pulled in, I know I should. But everyone was shouting and yelling, and I couldn’t see where to stop. I didn’t expect her to do such a thing, my lord. She was that quick I couldn’t prevent her.’
‘Exactly where were you when Miss Anne left the gig?’
‘About halfway up Park Lane.’
‘Near Grosvenor Square?’
‘That’s it! We halted about there. Miss Anne ran across the road towards the Square. If you ask me, my lord, she knew where she was going. As soon as I could I went back there and was out till it was dark looking for her, but there was no sign of her anywhere. She must be with someone she knows.’
* * *
Cobden was still apologising when James left him and rode on to his house in Brook Street. He was at a loss. Find Anne he must! But how could he do that when he didn’t even know her real name? Grosvenor Square and the streets leading off it were the only clues he had.
So when he arrived in Brook Street he left the horses with his groom and walked towards the Square. It was early evening and the large houses here were beginning to bustle with life. Carriages came and went, grooms and maid
servants hurried in and out. Where was she? Not sure what he was hoping for, but reluctant to give up, he walked round the square, stopping to look down Upper Grosvenor Street towards Hyde Park. This was the way Anne had come after jumping so unexpectedly off the gig. Perplexed and worried, he walked slowly on towards Brook Street. A carriage going at a good pace overtook him just by the corner. As it passed he caught a glimpse of its passengers—a man and a girl. His heart leapt at the sight of the particular angle of the head, the familiar profile…The girl was Anne. It couldn’t be anyone else!
The carriage was disappearing rapidly in the direction of Oxford Street, and he ran after it like a madman. But he lost sight of it when it turned and vanished among the milling crowds of horses, carts and coaches which filled one of the main arteries of the town. For some minutes he stood staring at the traffic, unable to believe that he had lost her after being so close to finding her again. But, wherever Anne had gone, she was at least safe, not roaming lost in the streets of London. She had been smiling when he saw her, and was clearly not in the carriage against her will. It was no hired vehicle, either, but privately owned, with some sort of a crest on its door panel.
He walked back to Brook Street, his mind full of what he had seen. Apparently Anne had found a refuge somewhere in the region of Grosvenor Square. With time he was sure he could find her again. But what if she didn’t want to be found? What if her memory had suddenly come back and she had joined the gentleman whose ring she had worn round her neck? She had told him she couldn’t remember anything about HJC, but she had taken his ring with her when she fled, though its chain had been left on the table. Had she suddenly remembered how important HJC really was to her? Was he more important to her than James Aldhurst?
During the sleepless night that followed this was the question that kept him restlessly pacing his room. Everything he knew about Anne, the magic of her touch, her kisses, her words, would seem to make such an idea impossible. At long last he had found ‘the right woman’, and he had been sure that she had loved him in return. But…and the thought was unwelcome…wasn’t it also possible that she had remembered who she was, and had not been willing either to face a shameful scandal herself, or to see him involved in one? This was the doubt that haunted him.
* * *
By morning he had come to a decision. He could not abandon his search for Anne. He had to know for certain that she was safe, was being looked after. And if she was free he would do everything he could to persuade her to come back to him, to convince her that their love for one another was worth fighting for.
But where was he to start?
Chapter Ten
Antonia collected her maid and the all-important papers, and with a sigh of relief delivered them the next day to the Foreign Office. She still had no idea where she had been for those ten days of her life, but she seemed to have suffered no harm, and, by some miracle, it hadn’t yet come to the ears of society. She was sure there must be a simple explanation and that, given time, she would remember it. For that reason she continued to put off telling her father about it.
* * *
Sir Henry’s health slowly improved, and he was able to accept Lady Carteret’s invitation to be the guest of honour at a ball to be held at Marchant House the following week. Lady Pendell swiftly commissioned London’s foremost modiste to make her niece an appropriate gown for this, her first appearance in London society. Antonia had accompanied her father on his travels as unofficial ambassador to the great and the powerful all over Europe, and as a result had a self-possession that many an older woman would envy. So she made it plain that she had no wish to wear what Lady Pendell thought suitable for her London début. ‘At twenty-three I can hardly be described as your average débutante,’ she said. ‘I would find it very difficult to act as demurely as you seem to think I should. And I would just look silly in white frills, with a wreath of roses on my head.’
‘My dear Antonia, as far as London is concerned, you are a débutante,’ said Lady Pendell firmly. ‘And if, as I hear, you can deal with a gang of Spanish brigands, surely you can manage to act a little out of character here in London! I will let you off the roses—your mother’s pearl-and-crystal aigrette will do very well instead. But you will wear white.’
Antonia protested, but her aunt was adamant. However, when they visited Madame Rosa’s establishment in Bruton Street, Lady Pendell agreed that Antonia’s choice of a dress of white, self-striped silk, its neckline and hem richly decorated with tiny gold-and-crystal beads, was ideally suited to her niece’s gracefully confident manner. Antonia herself was delighted with it, and soon she was looking forward to her first view of the phenomenon known as London society at Lady Carteret’s ball.
* * *
James Aldhurst, however, was not looking forward to Lady Carteret’s ball. Not in the slightest. He had failed to find any trace of Anne, though he had spent hours haunting the streets round Grosvenor Square until some of the servants in the big houses had started to look at him with suspicion. And as time went on without a sign of her he began to fear he would never see her again. He could not bear the thought. He had had such hopes. Anne would have taken away the hurt of his bleak early childhood at Roade, and made the place habitable for him. Together they would have built a life there, the sort of life his grandparents had enjoyed and his parents had never wanted.
In short, James Aldhurst had fallen in love for the first time in his life, and he had lost the woman he loved. London had seemed dull enough before he went to Hatherton, but now it was a desert. The thought of having to talk civilly to all the colourless, uninteresting girls he was bound to meet, to face the predatory looks of their mamas, or indeed to dance with anyone who was not Anne in his arms, appalled him. Normally charmingly courteous to everyone, he became morose and taciturn, even with his grandmother.
He was aware that she had been puzzled by his reluctance to talk about Hatherton since his return, and had no wish to increase her curiosity. But he was so preoccupied over dinner one night that she grew annoyed.
‘What on earth is the matter with you, James? Where have your manners gone? You’re not listening to a thing I say!’
‘I’m sorry. Forgive me, ma’am.’
‘That’s not enough. I don’t want an apology. It’s time you explained your behaviour.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ he said warily. ‘I was not aware my behaviour was any different—’
‘Of course it is, and you know it! First, you arrive out of the blue and baldly announce that you have left Hatherton for the foreseeable future. Second, when I ask you why you have cut your visit short, all you say is that Roade is well enough for the moment. Then…’ she paused ‘…then I am told that on the day you arrived in London you were seen running up Duke Street like a madman, and that you have taken innumerable walks in the neighbourhood since. I can’t imagine it’s for your health. In fact, to me it looks remarkably as if you are looking for someone. As for this evening—you have been sitting mumchance over the dining table, quite obviously not hearing half of what I’ve been telling you, not even when it is about the Croxton affair.’
‘Croxton? What did the Prince finally give him? A marquisate or a dukedom?’
‘There you are! If you had been paying better attention you would know that Lord Croxton seems to have lost the Prince’s favour. Far from being granted a dukedom, he has been banished from the royal presence. All sorts of rumours are flying about, including the suggestion that he has been told to leave the country, but the Prince is keeping his own counsel, so no one knows for sure why. And society seems to be taking its cue from the Prince. Croxton is not getting the attention or respect he used to enjoy. I’m not at all sorry for him—he is a most unpleasant man.’
She waited, then went on, ‘Still no comment? Do you know, James, if I didn’t know you better I’d say you were in love.’ She waited again. ‘Did you know that Barbara Furness and her family have returned from Scotland without an announcement of
any kind—not even an engagement?’
James smiled for the first time in days. ‘What did I tell you?’ he said.
‘As you can imagine, speculation is rife among the gossips. Did Rothmuir not come up to scratch? Or did she decide not to marry him after all? If so, how could she have raised poor Rothmuir’s hopes like that only to disappoint him? London can’t decide whether to express sympathy or disapproval!’
‘She never intended to accept Rothmuir. She won’t care what people say about her.’
Lady Aldhurst looked fixedly at her grandson. After a pause she said slowly, ‘If she can bear to face the tabbies, Lady Barbara might well be at tomorrow night’s ball. But she will need friends.’ She paused, then said, ‘It will give you an opportunity to talk to her…?’
He said with a touch of impatience, ‘You are wasting your time, ma’am. I’ve told you, there is not the slightest possibility that I will ever offer her anything more than friendship, and perhaps support in facing the tabbies. But no more. Not the slightest possibility!’
He said this so emphatically that his grandmother gave an exclamation of annoyance and rose abruptly from her chair. James came round the table to her and offered her his arm. She walked to the door, through the hall and into her room in offended silence and sat down in her favourite chair while James poured out two glasses of brandy. As he handed her one of them she tapped her stick angrily. ‘I am disappointed in you, James. I sent you down to Hatherton to give you time to consider the future. You seemed at the time to be willing to think about your duty to the family. But you appear to have come back with your mind more than ever set against marriage.’
Reawakening Miss Calverley Page 12