The Devil You Know

by Sophia Holloway

  She was not, thought Inglesham, an unappealing girl, having, in marked contrast to her sister, soft dark hair, a heart shaped face and huge, violet eyes which seemed to him so full of sorrow he was surprised she did not break down in tears. Taking pity upon her, he moved to sit at the other end of the sofa, inclining himself a little towards her without confronting her.

  ‘Are you enjoying your first taste of London, Miss Sudbury? Or is it rather overwhelming?’

  ‘It is not my first visit, my lord,’ she blurted out, not quite meeting his eye. ‘I came when I was a little girl, during my sister’s Season, to go to Astley’s and to see the wild beasts at the Tower.’ There was a pause. ‘Papa took me and…’ The words trailed away.

  ‘Forgive me, Miss Sudbury. I did not mean to bring to mind the past.’ He felt for her, this quiet young woman still mourning, even though her blacks were cast off. He understood that grief was not set by Society in its depth or timescale, only its trappings. ‘It is not easy, is it.’ It was more statement than question.

  She looked at him then, and for the first time among all the people she had met in London, she knew someone comprehended her situation. Even her sister sighed and told her she must ‘make an effort to be cheerful’.

  ‘No, my lord, it is not.’

  ‘Telling you that it will ease, over time, must sound trite, but I promise you that it is so. What nobody can tell you is when that will be.’ His voice was very gentle, and his words soothed, but yet brought a glistening of tears to her eyes.

  ‘I have to pretend,’ she whispered. ‘My dear sister wants the best for me, but cannot see that…’ She shook her head.

  ‘I shall let you into a secret, Miss Sudbury. The whole Season is an act, a vast play performed upon the stage of the capital. Those who only act and choose a partner who is only acting, find that thereafter there is little substance behind the show. And yet it is possible to find something better, more substantial, and if you do, there is hope that it will take precedence over grief.’

  ‘But it seems wrong, do you not see, sir? Being happy.’

  ‘I know. But it is not. You must remember that those for whom we grieve would not wish us forever in the misery of loss.’ His smile was as melancholy as hers, and her eyes widened.

  ‘You do understand. I can see. I did not want to come to London,’ she confided, ‘but Charlotte said it had to be this year and so… I do try, but everyone else cannot believe I am not cast into transports of delight.’

  ‘What would you rather be doing, Miss Sudbury?’

  ‘Just be at home, in peace and left to… think. Everything is transitory, uncertain, yet here everyone acts as if tomorrow was guaranteed.’ She sounded perplexed.

  ‘That is the effect of too close a proximity to mortality. Nothing is “guaranteed”, but we have to have hope, and, I have discovered, live each day, for now, not dwell in the past we cannot change. I do not presume to lecture you…’

  ‘Oh no, my lord, you do not lecture.’ She coloured. ‘Thank you. Thank you for listening, properly listening.’

  ‘My pleasure, Miss Sudbury. Now, I think Lady Rowington is preparing to depart.’

  He rose, and she did also, and extended her small, gloved hand. He bowed over it, and as he straightened up he saw her smile at him, tremulously, and for a fraction of a second he froze.

  ‘If it is agreed, then, we shall pick you up at half past ten tomorrow.’ Lady Rowington was smiling at her friend even as she made her farewell to the earl. ‘I declare it is so long since I went upon a picnic.’ She beamed at Kitty, and turned to her sister. ‘Come, Lucy. We must not linger.’

  Lucy curtseyed to Lord and Lady Ledbury in a schoolgirlish manner, and left in her sister’s wake. The door had scarcely closed behind her when Ledbury grimaced.

  ‘You know, I really thought that dismal girl was going to break into floods of tears and we would have to call for a bucket to prevent damage to the carpet.’

  ‘You are too harsh, Ledbury. She is still in mourning, and do not tell me she is not in blacks.’ Lord Inglesham turned from staring at the closed door.

  ‘But it is over a year now since Lady Sudbury died.’

  ‘Yes, and within a few months of Sudbury’s accident. She is very young, and it cannot have been easy.’

  ‘Then Lady Rowington should have waited another year. I cannot think why she did not.’

  ‘I can, my lord.’ Kitty interrupted. ‘She has already presented her lord with three children, and might well worry that in another year she might not be in a condition to chaperone her sister. There is no other close relative who could take that… responsibility.’

  ‘So she brings “Niobe, all tears” to make her curtsey, but what man will want to look twice upon a chit who looks like one of those marble widows, eyes cast heavenward, and clutching handkerchiefs, that you see draped over tombs?’ The earl shook his head. ‘Wasting her time.’

  ‘Lord Inglesham is right, my lord, you are too harsh,’ remonstrated his wife.

  ‘You would not have been a watering pot,’ he threw at her, with what Inglesham thought was a touch of pride as well as relief.

  ‘No, my lord, but then, I have not suffered such a bereavement. One has to have sympathy for…’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why, my lord?’ She frowned.

  ‘Why should I have sympathy? Never knew anyone show me sympathy, not that I have asked for it since I was out of short coats.’

  ‘You are a hard-hearted devil, George.’ Lord Inglesham smiled at Kitty. ‘You have my sympathies, ma’am. I can only say one day he will learn.’

  ‘You make it sound a failing.’ Lord Ledbury sounded a little affronted.

  ‘I think an inability to distinguish between being pathetic and empathetic is one, my friend. But we shall not argue about it.’

  Kitty had a thought.

  ‘Lord Inglesham, Lady Rowington has invited me, us, on her picnic to Richmond Park tomorrow. My husband has agreed to come, but I fear only because it gives him the chance to ride a decent distance. I am sure her ladyship would not object if you accompanied him, as,’ she dimpled, ‘moral support.’

  ‘Moral support? That is all I need, the presence of “morals” to accompany me.’ Lord Ledbury feigned disgust.

  Lord Inglesham laughed.

  ‘Shall I read a book of homilies tonight so that I might educate you on our journey?’

  ‘Good God, no.’ The earl looked appalled. ‘Niobe might appreciate them though. Besides, we are engaged with Pountney and Rollestone tonight, and I hardly think they will want a sermon. In fact I am deuced certain they will not.’

  ‘I think the homilies are best avoided, my lord,’ whispered Kitty, conspiratorially, and her eyes danced, ‘but do say you will accompany us. If not, I am sure he will be bored before we cross the river.’

  ‘Hmm, she thinks me little better than a child to be entertained, Henry, as you can see.’ Lord Ledbury grinned at his friend. ‘Best you come and keep me from mischief.’

  ‘I implied no such thing, did I?’ Kitty looked from one to the other.

  ‘Of course not, ma’am, and besides, he has your company, so will not be bored in the slightest.’

  ‘That is very gallant, sir, but alas, probably untrue. I will also be engaged with Lady Rowington much of the time, or her sister. Lady Rowington will be here at half past ten o’clock.’

  ‘I shall not fail you.’ With which Lord Inglesham rose and bowed over Kitty’s hand.

  ‘He is such a nice man,’ sighed Kitty, looking towards the door, a minute later. ‘He understands one.’

  ‘And I am not and do not, madam?’ Lord Ledbury responded, rather tetchily. Something in her appreciation of his friend suddenly irked him. ‘Perhaps you wish he had taken up Bidford’s offer, not me. He has all the virtues and I have all the vices.’

  ‘I do not think, sir, that anyone has only virtues or only vices.’ She looked at him, slightly quizzically. She could not think why he had ta
ken umbrage. He reminded of her of Bidford as a small boy, in a huff. She had an urge to smooth the frown from his brow. ‘Having said which, there is Bidford. Now has he any virtues?’ She pondered, attempting to improve his humour. ‘Well, I suppose he does lack the vice of gluttony, since he is so parsimonious, and he is not lustful. Is absence of vice, virtue?’

  ‘I would not know.’ He still frowned. She stood, and came to him, laying a hand, tentatively, upon his arm. ‘I most certainly have vices, as you know. I have a terribly “shrewish” temper have I not?’ His expression did not change, and the levity left her.

  ‘Have I displeased you, sir? I am sorry for it, if it is so.’

  ‘I think perhaps, I am more displeased with myself.’ He gave a brief, wry smile. ‘I do not match Henry Inglesham.’

  ‘I am not married to Henry Inglesham, my lord, and lest you do not know it already, I would not have him in your place. You are my husband.’

  He held his tongue. What burned within him was the fact that he was not actively being a husband. There was an uneasy silence, which Kitty broke with the mundane question about whether he would be dining with Lord Pountney. He was about to reply when Syde knocked, and entered to announce Lady Bidford.

  ‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Lord Ledbury, in a voice that their unwelcome visitor could hardly have failed to hear.

  Kitty’s sister-in-law swept in, with all the air of the Empress of Russia, pointedly ignored Lord Ledbury and smiled pityingly upon Kitty.

  ‘My dear sister.’ She smiled, a smile which, the earl later informed his wife, would have put ‘snow-caps on the blasted pyramids’, and cast the briefest disdainful glance in his direction with a nod. She then seated herself upon the sofa recently occupied by Miss Sudbury. ‘I am sure you are astounded to see me in Town, but Bidford and I just had to come so that he could meet some of my relations without us trailing about the country. So much easier.’

  ‘And cheaper,’ mumbled his lordship, and got a reproving glance from his wife.

  ‘Indeed, Annabel, we,’ and Kitty stressed the inclusivity, ‘were not expecting you. Everything went well, with the wedding?’ She had as little interest in the wedding as in the woman, but could not think of anything else to say.

  Lady Bidford launched into a description of the nuptials which seemed to simultaneously laud their size in number of guests and how little it cost to entertain them all. Lord Ledbury interrupted part way, excusing himself upon the grounds of an entirely fictitious appointment with his bootmaker. Kitty was abandoned to her fate.

  13

  ‘And where are you putting up in London?’ Kitty could not resist asking, as the door shut behind her husband.

  ‘Oh, Papa has opened our house again this Season. Mama is bringing out my youngest sister, Cassandra. Bidford sees it is eminently suitable.’

  Kitty wondered how long he might continue in this belief, but made no comment. Lady Bidford’s eye settled upon a cushion with moth holes in the velvet. It both delighted her to see that her sister-in-law, whilst outranking her, was not elevated to luxury, and worried her natural frugality, since she could foresee wasteful expense upon refurbishments. Kitty read her face like a book.

  ‘Alas, this house has not been used by the family for some years, and is in sad need of bringing up to date. I was ordering materials but yesterday, for both here and Melling Hall.’ She smiled sweetly. Lady Bidford looked as though she had announced an intention to act upon the stage.

  ‘You would squander what I have to say must be your dear brother’s excessive largesse?’

  ‘Oh no,’ responded Kitty, blithely. ‘After all, Ledbury has committed much of it already upon his race horses.’ If it was a lie, then it was at least what her lord would prefer to do with the money.

  ‘On his race horses.’ Lady Bidford snorted, remarkably like one of them. ‘Shameful. I only hope you have expressed your gratitude to Bidford, for his quite outstanding generosity.’

  ‘You can be sure that Bidford knows, to an inch, the depths of my “gratitude”.’ There was a spark in Kitty’s eye, but her sister-in-law failed to notice it.

  ‘Had he consulted me before he made the settlement, I would have said that it far exceeded what was required.’ Lady Bidford’s tone implied that she had spent some considerable time ‘explaining’ to her new spouse that this omission was a major failing on his part. ‘You find yourself the envy of many, no doubt, having caught such a prize as Ledbury, though it is clear you will find yourself fending off creditors from the door in short order. If you will take my advice…’

  ‘I think, Annabel, you can be sure that I will not. You know, I might even be tempted to do precisely the opposite, so best you keep your recommendations for those inclined to hang upon your words. I am sure Bidford will share your outrage at this, but think of it as a gift from me, cementing your relationship in these early days of wedlock.’

  Even one so thick-skinned as the new Lady Bidford could not fail to understand these words. She drew herself very upright, simultaneously looking down her very slightly aquiline nose at Kitty.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yes, I thought you might.’

  ‘Well, if you will not listen to wisdom…’

  ‘Ah, but I will attend to wisdom when I hear it,’ replied Kitty, dulcetly.

  Lady Bidford glowered, and turned a most unbecoming shade. Kitty rang the bell, lest, as she later informed her husband with relish, her sister-in- law explode. That lady returned to her parents’ house to give vent to her feelings to her unfortunate sister Cassandra.

  *

  Lord Ledbury dined amicably with his wife, but left her to an evening with her stitchery thereafter. It had been a conscious decision, not only so that she would not feel he was ‘forcing the pace’, but because he needed to be away from female society for a few hours. He might dismiss Henry Inglesham’s suggestion that he was falling in love with his wife, but he was conscious that his feelings towards her were not simply regulated by his loins. She was not just a woman, she was somehow more, and he wanted more from what was to come. Waiting, however, was not easy, and patience unknown to him. Being alone with her, and in private, was like taunting a man in a desert with a chalice of cool water. There was, of course, a simple way to solve this problem, but he dismissed the idea out of hand. A casual liaison with some ‘convenient’ for an evening had never been his way; even when he engaged ‘ladies’ of the demi-monde to entertain his guests at Melling Hall, he dallied with the same female for the duration of the visit, and had rarely bedded one since he had befriended Henry Inglesham, who always abstained. When married women of his own class were available he was far less restrained, and it was rare in the last few years for him not to have a mistress in some exclusive Mayfair residence. In this instance the option of returning to his most recent, Louisa Yarningale, actually revolted him. He looked at his reflection in his mirror and sneered at himself.

  ‘What are you going to do, fall at her feet come the night and declare yourself purified? Hardly credible.’

  He had never valued ‘purity’, and that included in the opposite sex. If anything he associated it with the sort of frigid naïvety he had encountered on his wedding night, or saw in the face of Miss Sudbury. It was boring, unadventurous. And yet… he found himself feeling sullied, unworthy of the woman who was his wife. There was an urge, besides the obvious one, to do just as he had mockingly suggested, very nearly, and apologise for his erring past, the very thing he had said he would not do. He gave himself a mental shake. The next thing would be him putting her on a pedestal, he, who had shown by word and deed that he knew where to put a woman and it was most definitely not in an upright position.

  ‘So this is what marriage brings a man to.’ He sighed, and rang for Whicham.

  *

  Since the earl had no qualms about a long day in the saddle, he had arranged to ride at nine with his wife, thereby giving her a half hour to change her raiment before Lady Rowington arrived. It was going to be a
warm spring day, but there was still a freshness to the air as they reached Hyde Park. Kitty sighed.

  ‘I confess, sir, I am envious.’

  ‘Envious?’

  ‘Yes, for I would far prefer to ride to Richmond Park than sit decorously in a carriage and discuss fripperies.’

  ‘Then we should arrange to do so, just us.’ He smiled down at her expression of surprise. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it would be thought most odd, if we went alone.’

  ‘I don’t give a fig for that. I like to ride, you like to ride, and I like riding with you. There is no impropriety remember, for you wear my ring.’ They were riding close beside each other, and he reached across and touched her gloved hand. ‘Find a day when there is nothing you cannot avoid in the evening, and we shall escape together, Kitty.’

  Her eyes flew to his, and he saw the eagerness in them. Was he being an arrogant fool to think that the prospect of a day alone with him was as responsible for it as that of a long ride? Her lips were slightly parted, and she looked so very alive. He wanted to kiss her, very much. She frowned a little, detecting the change in his expression.

  ‘What is it, my lord?’

  ‘Nothing, except that you are too great a temptation.’

  ‘Me? A temptation?’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘You have the wrong woman in mind, sir.’

  ‘No, I have you in mind, and so very often.’ The words were unplanned. As a line of seduction it was masterly, but he said it without the sly smile, or calculating gaze, and it took Kitty’s breath away.

  ‘I… I am?’

  ‘You are.’ He looked about them; there was nobody in view. He leaned, lifted her chin, and kissed her, quickly, but not lightly. ‘Very often,’ he repeated.

  She blushed furiously. He straightened.

  ‘My lord, we are in public,’ she murmured.

  ‘Well there are no “public” hereabouts at this moment, and I will vouch our licentious behaviour was only espied by two crows and a wood pigeon. I have yet to hear they are the source of London gossip.’