by Stella Riley
‘I thought about the things you’d told me … and wondered about those you’d left out … and after that, I started reading between the lines. Also, I wasn’t about to let that woman get away with calling you a murderer. Perhaps she’ll think twice about it in future.’
Ralph doubted it. Philippa was nothing if not tenacious.
He said slowly, ‘You still haven’t told me why.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. I think so. But since we’ve been closeted here long enough, I suppose I must let it go. However … if you have not already promised it, may I claim the supper-dance?’
‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth. And in the hope that it disguised her surge of pleasure, ‘But only if we can talk of something else. I’m quite tired of Lady Sutherland.’
An hour later, she was dragged into a corner by Arabella who said, ‘Is it true?’
‘Is what true?’
‘That you and the sister of the man Lord Sherbourne killed came to blows over him at Queensberry House.’
Elizabeth stared at her. ‘Did you really need to ask that?’
‘No,’ grinned Arabella. ‘I just wanted to see your face.’
‘I hope you’re satisfied.’
‘Not particularly. But it’s what half the people here are saying and I rather hoped it might be true. As it is, Cassie is asking anyone who raises the subject how a slight disagreement becomes a cat-fight and Lady Nell is sighing over how unbelievably credulous some people are. What really happened? And why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t expect it to become common knowledge,’ replied Elizabeth tautly. ‘It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as people would like to think. I merely admitted to knowing something her ladyship would prefer that I didn’t. And no – I’m not going to tell you what.’
‘Oh. Lord Sherbourne again.’
‘Yes – though probably not in the way you’re thinking. Now, unless you can talk of something else --’
‘All right – I give up.’ Arabella laughed and then said thoughtfully, ‘He asked me to dance the quadrille with him, by the way. Will he interrogate me?’
‘More to the point,’ retorted Elizabeth, moving away, ‘will you interrogate him?’
As it turned out, Arabella and Lord Sherbourne managed the quadrille without treading on the other’s toes either literally or metaphorically and ended the dance with a better opinion of each other than they’d had at the start of it. Arabella discovered that his lordship had a dry wit coupled with acute observation. And Ralph found Arabella’s cheerful, unselfconscious manner a pleasant change to the usual, fashionable ennui. As he escorted her from the floor, he said, ‘I have received an invitation to Lord Chalfont’s concert and look forward to attending. Is he due to arrive in London soon?’
‘No,’ said Arabella, only half-joking. ‘Not for another eight whole days.’
‘As long as that?’ A faint smile touched Ralph’s mouth. ‘Will time be hanging equally heavy on his lordship’s hands?’
‘Not at all.’ Her laughter was full of rueful affection. ‘He will be spending every available hour at the harpsichord and enjoying it immensely.’
Sitting at supper beside Elizabeth and having to lower his voice so his words were not overheard by those around them, Lord Sherbourne said, ‘If I am not permitted to ask why you took up the cudgels on my behalf … may I at least thank you?’
‘There’s no need for that.’ Warmth stole into Elizabeth’s heart and touched her cheeks. ‘Surely anyone who knew the truth would do the same?’
‘No. They wouldn’t.’ He thought about it and then said dispassionately, ‘The last and, to the best of my recollection, the only person who ever tried was my second on that fateful day. It wasn’t his fault that he failed.’
‘You are saying it won’t be mine either, if her ladyship continues spitting venom?’
‘No. I am saying you shouldn’t be surprised if she does and that you would be wise to steer clear of her in the future. But I am also saying that I … value and appreciate the fact that you tried. And that I am grateful.’
* * *
Although she was counting the days until Julian arrived, Arabella settled more easily into fashionable society than Elizabeth had done. It helped that she had always been less conscious of her dignity than her cousin and that the occasional spiteful remark or disparaging glance did not worry her in the least because they came from people whose opinions simply did not matter. Also, unlike Elizabeth, she did not find contemplating Cassie or Caroline’s marital bliss painful and was frequently to be found visiting someone’s nursery. In short, she enjoyed her visit to the full … but was aware that, when the time came, she would walk away without a backward glance.
No one saw what happened when letters arrived from Chalfont because she took them to her room and locked the door. Letters from Julian made her cry because missing him was like a hole in her chest. Letters from the children made her cry because they were so dear and sweet and unintentionally funny. All of them had to be read and re-read and treasured. None of them made up for the emptiness of waiting. And nothing Julian wrote told her what that long, desperate embrace had meant at the time … or might mean in the future.
It helped to focus on the forthcoming concert and so, when a pleasing idea occurred to her, she wasted no time putting it into action. She asked favours of Cassie Audley and Caroline Sarre; she coaxed two concert invitations from Rockliffe; and then, having filled in the names, she despatched them to people she thought Julian would like to be present at his London debut.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, received the dreaded letter from her father. The Reverend expressed his disappointment in her behaviour, had a great deal to say about deceit and demanded that she return to Yorkshire immediately. With lagging steps and depression clogging her throat, Elizabeth sought out the duke.
‘Yes,’ said Rockliffe calmly. ‘I have received a similar communication – though mercifully lacking the sermon. I intend to inform Reverend Marsden that returning you to the fold is not convenient just now … the organisation surrounding Lord Chalfont’s concert, complex as it is, being my primary concern.’ Amusement lurked in the dark eyes. ‘I am sure you can tell your father how exceptionally occupied I am at present.’
Perfectly aware that, since initially planning the event, his Grace’s role was merely that of overseer, Elizabeth swallowed and said, ‘Oh yes. Exceptionally occupied.’
‘Quite. You may also tell him – as will I – that your return journey will be made in one of my own carriages and will be arranged as soon as is practically possible. In the meantime, he should not worry unduly. He might also contemplate the notion that my household is a good deal less … haphazard … than that of Lord Chalfont.’ He smiled a little and said, ‘On another matter entirely, Sir Alastair Vennor has asked my permission to pay his addresses to you. I took the liberty of suggesting that he should spare himself the disappointment. If, however, I have misread the situation --’
‘You haven’t,’ said Elizabeth, startled and faintly aghast. ‘I am sure Sir Alastair is a very worthy gentleman but I hadn’t realised – that is, I can barely --’ She stopped, aware that it would not do to admit that it had taken her a moment to recall Sir Alastair’s face. ‘Thank you for dealing with the matter, your Grace.’
‘Not at all.’ He paused, toying idly with his snuffbox whilst watching her without seeming to do so. ‘Is there any other gentleman from whom I may expect a similar approach in the near future?’ And when Elizabeth shook her head, ‘I ask only because the prospect of your forthcoming departure may spur some hitherto dilatory gentleman into action.’
Elizabeth eyed him with fascination, thinking, Is he telling me what to do if I want to spur some gentleman into action? But keeping both face and voice demure, she said, ‘Thank you … but I am no more in expectation of other offers than I was in the one from Sir Alastair.’
And escaped to her room to come to terms with the entire conversation.
&n
bsp; Twenty minutes later when Elizabeth had begun the task of writing to her parents, Arabella bounced in brimming with delight and brandishing a letter.
‘Julian is bringing the children! Although Rockliffe hasn’t said a word to me about it, he’s told Julian that he may bring them with him and he’s sending a coach for them all. Isn’t that wonderful? I never dreamed he could be so kind. And Julian is still reeling at the idea of being able to play with an orchestra. He sounds so happy, Lizzie. And he deserves to. He really, really does.’
‘Yes. I’m sure he does,’ agreed Elizabeth, abandoning her letter. ‘But how will he explain the children? People are bound to ask who they are – and he can scarcely tell the truth, can he? Also, will they know how to behave? If they’re going to be running wild all --’
‘They will not be running wild, as you put it,’ snapped Arabella, a storm brewing in her eyes. ‘Given the chance, Rob will barely stir from Julian’s side while he’s rehearsing; Ellie is a delight … and Tom will take care of her when I cannot. As for explaining who they are, Julian will do what he always does and tell the truth. He won’t care what people think unless anyone is stupid enough to say something unkind in the children’s hearing.’
Elizabeth coloured faintly. She said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound as if --’
‘As if they should be hidden away?’
‘No! I never meant that!’
‘I certainly hope you didn’t.’ Arabella drew a steadying breath and, somewhat more calmly, added, ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie. But I love them – and so does Julian, though he probably hasn’t realised it yet. So neither of us will be tolerant of – of intolerance. They are children – though I don’t believe Tom has ever had a childhood. If you knew how long it took him to believe there might be some kindness in the world and how hard it was for him to trust that Julian wouldn’t abandon them --’
‘Stop!’ said Elizabeth, pressing the heel of one hand against her brow. ‘I’m sorry – truly I am! I wasn’t thinking clearly. Papa has written, ordering me home but the duke is going to hold him off until after the concert and Sir Alastair Vennor apparently wants to marry me, though I can scarcely recall which one he is. And I’ve absolutely no idea what Lord Sherbourne may be thinking – or whether he’s thinking anything at all as far as I’m concerned. But if you’re glad the children are coming, then good – so am I.’
‘Thank you.’ The spurt of temper evaporating as fast as it had come, Arabella sat down and said, ‘If you ask me, Lord Sherbourne doesn’t know what he’s thinking himself. I’ve seen the way he sometimes looks at you and it’s obvious there’s something there. But for what it’s worth, I think you were right when you said he’s shut his emotions away where he can’t find them because it’s almost as if he’s observing the world from behind a glass wall.’ She paused, thinking it over. ‘He’ll be there tomorrow evening, won’t he – at the Audleys’ dinner-party?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Elizabeth. And with a groan, ‘And so will his half-sister and the husband Cassie swears Lord Sherbourne will refuse to speak to. So if you think it’s going to fun – think again.’
* * *
In Wynstanton House, preparations were already taking place for the concert. The chandeliers in the ballroom had been taken down for polishing and the room itself given a thorough cleaning; the harpsichord – a particularly beautiful instrument with inlay, gilding and a lovely Classical scene on the underside of the lid – had been carefully carried there from the music room. Flowers had been ordered, the silver polished and the kitchen was busy with menus for the after-concert supper. Members of the orchestra arrived every afternoon for two hours of rehearsal … and gilt-edged invitations had been despatched to over a hundred guests. Lord Brandon and his mother were due to arrive the day after the Audley party … which meant that the only thing missing would then be the virtuoso himself.
Rockliffe had found Julian’s programme surprising. The first half, of course, was to be the Mozart concerto. The second was comprised of five sections, each by a different composer and each containing two or three short pieces; Bach and one of his sons, Rameau, Scarlatti and Royer. Of all the music listed, Rockliffe was familiar with less than half. Next to the Royer piece he himself had requested, Julian had scrawled, A good choice – though it may surprise you. And at the bottom of the page, The timings are for your own information. If an encore is requested, I’ll play something of my own.
Smiling with gentle anticipation, his Grace handed the programme back to Matthew Bennet and said, ‘Excellent. Take it to the printer – and let no one else see it.’
* * *
In Bruton Place, Cassie Audley’s nerves were in knots about Lord Sherbourne coming face to face with Monsieur Delacroix. She had lived in constant expectation that one or other of them would send their excuses … but neither had. And though it was easy enough for two gentlemen to ignore each other at a large gathering, it wasn’t even remotely possible in a party of sixteen.
She had invited Genevieve and Aristide because she and Sebastian liked them; she had invited Ralph Sherbourne because she suspected that Lizzie Marsden more than liked him; and she’d hoped that getting Aristide and the earl into the same room on neutral territory might make them come to terms with each other.
‘It won’t work,’ Sebastian had said. ‘I agree it’s ridiculous for two adult men to be incapable of giving each other a polite nod. But one of them has to be the first to do it and both of them will happily leave it to the other – which is why it won’t work.’
Consequently, Cassie was looking forward to her cosy dinner about as much as she would to a tooth extraction.
By a half after eight, the only guest missing was the Earl of Sherbourne.
Inevitably, Nicholas started taking bets on whether or not he’d show up.
‘Perhaps he’s not coming,’ said Elizabeth to Cassie. And then, just as she was about to remark that it might be for the best, the butler appeared in the doorway and, in the voice of doom, announced, ‘The Earl of Sherbourne.’
The room might have fallen silent but for the determination of Caroline, Lord Amberley and Adeline. For just one critical instant, nearly everyone else froze before resuming their conversations with renewed vigour.
A small, sardonic smile curling his mouth, Ralph bowed over Cassie’s hand and said, ‘My profound apologies, Mistress Audley. It appears that I am late.’
‘Not at all, my lord – merely the last to arrive. Someone has to be, don’t they?’
‘That is indisputably true,’ he agreed. And with no more than a nod and a smile in Elizabeth’s direction, he turned to accept Sebastian’s outstretched hand, saying, ‘Mr Audley … a brief word, if I may?’
Sebastian’s brows rose. ‘Of course. In private?’
‘That might be best.’
Having led his guest through to the library, he said, ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You can accept my apologies for my behaviour the last time I was in this room. I was angry, of course … but that is no excuse for bad manners.’
For a second, Sebastian was too stunned to speak. But finally he said, ‘It is forgotten, my lord. But I appreciate the sentiment and will pass it on to Cassandra.’
‘Thank you.’ Ralph had been late because it had taken a long time to find the frame of mind necessary to do what, with extreme reluctance, he knew had to be done. Even now, he had to force the words past his lips. ‘Everyone in the next room is waiting to watch Monsieur Delacroix and I cut each other. I am a guest in your home, as is he … and I, at least, have no wish to be a cause of embarrassment to you or your lady. Therefore I thought you might ascertain whether …’ God, he thought grimly, this is going to choke me. ‘… whether, if I offer Delacroix my hand, he will accept it. I do not ask him to meet me half-way. I do, however, refuse to put myself in the position of being insulted in public.’
First an apology – and now this, thought Sebastian. And then, Why? What’s changed? Or are you just making Ar
istide the villain of the piece if he won’t kiss and make up?
He said, ‘Understandable. And I respect you for making the offer – as, hopefully, will Aristide. I take it you don’t want me to bring him in here?’
‘Hardly. That would raise speculation to new heights, would it not?’
‘Oh almost certainly, I should think. Very well. Give me a few moments, will you?’ And he left the room, wisely suppressing an impulse to laugh.
With Genevieve on his arm, Aristide was talking to Adrian and Caroline – which meant that Sebastian did not need to bother drawing the Frenchman to one side. He said, ‘Excuse the interruption – but I am charged with a mission.’
‘A mission?’ echoed Caroline. ‘How intriguing!’
‘You have no idea,’ murmured Sebastian. Then, looking at Aristide and coming directly to the point, ‘Lord Sherbourne is prepared to offer you his hand. And since he is naturally reluctant to be made a fool of in front of everyone, he wants to know if you’ll accept it.’
If Monsieur Delacroix’s jaw didn’t quite drop, it certainly slackened in shock.
In the seconds it took her husband to find his voice, Genevieve said, ‘Ralph said that?’ And when Sebastian nodded, ‘Why?’
‘He says he doesn’t want to be the cause of awkwardness under my roof. I see no reason to disbelieve him. I also think he deserves credit for bending his pride.’
‘I daresay,’ returned Aristide tightly. ‘But the current situation is of his making.’
‘And he’s prepared to mend it – at least, in part.’ Seeing that Aristide’s expression remained unforgiving, Sebastian said, ‘If you refuse now, he won’t offer again – and I, for one, wouldn’t blame him. But if it helps, do it because it’s plainly killing him.’
Adrian laughed. ‘Not exactly the right spirit for a rapprochement, is it?’
Ignoring this, Sebastian turned to Genevieve. ‘What do you think? He’s your brother, after all.’