On the verge of sleep, she remembered again how Burke’s mouth had felt on her mouth that evening of the engagement dinner. How strong, how hard and masculine ... how strangely sweet ... no, no, she detested him. Yet he could be kind and thoughtful ... No, he was an actor, he was only acting. When all this was over, he would return to his indifference, his bullying or teasing, or his coolness. She need not fear Burke, he cared nothing for her, except as a pretend sister.
CHAPTER 5
The wedding day of Burke and Lesley dawned all too quickly. Everyone seemed against it, Lesley decided, as her maid Netta helped her into the eggshell-blue silk gown. The more Aunt and Uncle Stukely tried to persuade her to put it off, the more friends spoke of its haste, the more beaux rebuked her for such hurrying, the more she had decided it was the right thing to do.
Burke seemed as reluctant himself, sighing heavily as he reflected on the end of his gay bachelor days. “Too bad,” murmured Lesley, aloud, to her reflection in the full-length mirror. “He shall just have to settle down!”
“Ma’am?” asked Netta curiously. She well knew her mistress’s views on men, she had been the recipient of many a diatribe from Lesley on her return from some evening occasion. As the oldest of eight children, going out to service at the age of twelve, Netta was a practical girl. It seemed to her that Lesley Dalrymple had the best of all possible worlds, her wealth, her beauty, and now marriage to a handsome gentleman with even more money and estates. “You spoke to me, ma’am?”
“No, no, Netta, just thinking. Is Viola ready yet?”
“Viola is ready,” announced her sister, coming in the door. She had come the day before, radiant, relieved, happy. “How do I look?” She twirled about, showing off the violet gown that matched Lesley’s blue silk in style: a demure neckline, puffed sleeves full to the wrist, yoked bodice, ruffled hems of deeper colour. At seventeen, she was blossoming into a real beauty, thought Lesley, coming to kiss her cheek.
“You look beautiful, dearest!” she said warmly. “You shall have all the attention, not I!”
She really wished it would be so. Lesley wished dear, sweet Viola were getting married instead of she, who detested men and was suspicious of all of them, especially Burke Penhallow!
They finished their preparations, Lesley donned the lovely white veil of Brussels lace, and followed her sister down the stairs. The carriage was ready, and they were soon off to the church.
A surprisingly large crowd waited for them. Lesley felt her hands cold with nerves, and a shaking started in her limbs as she walked up the long aisle to meet Burke before the altar. She murmured her responses, his came in a firm, clear tone. It was over so shortly, she remembered dimly later. All those weeks of preparation, the worry, the agony of wondering if it was the right thing to do ... and all over in fifteen minutes.
The reception was held in Burke’s townhouse, the largest one by far, and therefore the most appropriate. Guests spilled over into four large drawing rooms and into the dining room, where food was set on buffets, and drinks were served by butlers and footmen in the Penhallow livery of red and gold.
Lord Ramsey was there, gazing deeply into Viola’s enchanted eyes, murmuring that perhaps hers would be the next wedding! Lesley was grateful they would be taking the girl away from London. She was so young and green she did not recognize flattery.
She glanced nervously about, but still did not see Sandy. She caught Frank by the arm, handsome in his uniform. “Have you seen Sandy?” she whispered.
Burke was circulating about, with Denise Huntington not far away, pursuing him rather obviously. She was in a dark grey, almost black gown (an insult to the bride) glittering with diamonds. Lesley’s mouth tightened, she turned back to Frank impatiently.
“You stayed with Uncle Stukely. Where is Sandy? Was he not in your carriage?”
“No, no, came with Aunt,” he said. He raised his glass to her. “Lovely girl, Lesley! Never thought you would do it! All happiness to you. Lord, there is a pal of mine, ain’t seen him in a year...” And he was off into the hallway, to greet a friend with much slapping of backs and hearty navy language.
Lesley moved from one room to the other, paused to receive best wishes, her mouth smiling, her eyes flashing from one group to another. Still no Sandy. She had not seen him in church, but that was not surprising, she had really seen no one but Burke and the minister. Even Viola and Edgar Creswick, attending them, had been blurs to her. Lesley had been all too conscious she was putting her final destinies into the strong brown hands of the man beside her. Burke Penhallow. Could she trust him? She would be depending heavily on him ... what would happen to her?
She found Viola moving to her side, the girl’s eyes were brightly beautiful; she looked angelic in her violet gown, with the white flowers like a halo on her head.
“Where is Sandy?” Lesley managed to say to her in a low tone. “I cannot find him anywhere!”
The blue eyes shadowed. “He was not allowed to come,” she whispered. “Aunt says he is ill. It may be, he was almost sick with excitement...”
Lesley felt a little faint, her hand gripped Viola’s arm tightly. “Have you seen him the past few days?” she asked sharply. “I have been able to see him only once, a week ago. He was all right then ... Has Uncle —”
“No, no, I am sure of it! No whipping ... though he was in his cups two nights ago — fighting with Aunt...”
Smiles pinned to their lips, the two girls whispered, half-turned from the company. Lesley glanced about frantically, Burke came smoothly to her side.
“What is it?” he asked sharply when he came to Lesley, and he put his hand under her arm. She leaned on him gratefully.
“Viola says Sandy is ill. Or Aunt said he was. He was not allowed to attend the wedding. She has not seen him ... oh, Burke! What if they have taken him away?”
“Hush,” he said sharply. He turned to Viola. “Have you seen him?”
She shook her red-gold curls, blue eyes worried. His mouth set grimly. It was a large mouth, a very positive chin beneath it, and his hand had a strong grip. Lesley looked up at him, unconsciously pleading.
“What can you do about it, Burke? Must we leave without him? What will Aunt say?”
He was frowning slightly. Aunt Felicia and Uncle Hubert Stukely were suddenly at his side, brightly smiling, but eyes distinctly wary.
“Trouble in paradise so soon?” asked Hubert Stukely jovially. “Are you quarrelling already, dear Penhallow? Lesley’s temper is not an easy one, you could have asked me!” And he laughed disagreeably.
Lesley made to answer, but Burke’s grip on her arm tightened and she stopped.
“We were but making our preparations to remove to Penhallow, Uncle Stukely,” he said smoothly, a glint in his dark brown eyes. “I was about to inform Viola, my new sister, to have her gear all packed. We shall remove two days hence.”
“Two days...” gasped Aunt Felicia, her green eyes with that strange terrified expression again. Lesley wondered at her. “Nonsense! Viola is in the midst of enjoying a gay London season. She will not wish to leave it! And to go with you on your honeymoon ... really, Mr Penhallow...”
Words seem to fail her, her voice petered out. Uncle Stukely stood there scowling.
Burke said smoothly, “As you know, I am an only child, Mrs Stukely. I have longed for a family to claim as my own, and the Dalrymples were close to me many years. I look forward to entertaining all of the Dalrymples at Penhallow, and to treat Viola as my sister, Frank as my brother. But it is up to Viola ... do you wish to remain, my dear sister?”
“Oh, no, no, I am not out yet, Burke!” Viola assured him. “I wish only to be with Lesley again. Next season, when I come out, perhaps I might remain the winter. But I am quite content to retire to the country...”
“Good. Then do you pack your luggage tomorrow, and Sandy’s, of course, and I shall come along to collect you on Wednesday morning,” said Burke briskly. “In fact, we shall come to take some of the luggage o
n Tuesday afternoon ... let me see, we shall come along about four to get some of the trunks and cases, and they will go on before us. Can you be ready by then, sister, with some of yours and Sandy’s gear?”
Uncle Stukely was gasping like a big fish, Lesley decided, as his big red mouth opened and closed and opened again. He managed to choke out words, as Felicia nudged him desperately.
“Nonsense, nonsense! Not on your honeymoon,” he rumbled. “You will not want that mischievous brat with you on your honeymoon! No, he will remain under my stern eye. He takes a firm hand, let me tell you!”
“And I shall supply it,” smiled Burke. “I am fond of Sandy for his own sake, as well as for that of my cousin. No, we shall pick up Sandy and Viola on Wednesday morning and carry them off to the country. Penhallow shall be splendid this time of year, it will be good for them. Ah, country air! The cows giving good milk, the orchards in bloom, horses to ride...” He drew a deep expansive breath, patting his chest.
Lesley felt a bit hysterical. She wanted to warn him not to overact; Uncle Stukely was shrewd if Aunt was not so very smart. Burke nudged her, his arm closing more tightly on her waist. She felt his fingers on her ribs, the quick warning hug. She must play up.
“Yes, I am so looking forward to Penhallow,” she said brightly, truthfully. “The peace of the country, the beauties of Penhallow and the flowers there, such kind people all about, I quite feel as though I shall be going home! I look to Penhallow as my country home already, we had such fine times there as children.”
Burke smiled down at her caressingly and bent to touch his lips to her forehead, pushing her white headdress a little awry. “You shall enjoy it, darling, I assure you. The keys of the household shall be placed in your pretty hand, and everyone obey your slightest command! Did I tell you — I think I have not — that Penhallow has been completely remodelled, inside and out? It is all fresh and lovely for the new mistress!”
Everyone had paused to listen to his slightly louder tone. Nearby, Denise Huntington scowled disagreeably, and her glare at Lesley was intercepted by several amused matrons, who nudged each other significantly.
“Ready for all that work, Mrs Penhallow?” asked Denise loudly, champagne glass in hand. By her tone, she had already imbibed too freely. “Burke sadly needs a housekeeper! And a wife to furnish him with an heir! But I thought your talents lay in other directions — giving speeches in public, and making a show of yourself!”
A distinct pause of disapproval from the company. Even Aunt Felicia directed a cold stare at the rude guest. “Lesley has been well trained in housekeeping, you may be sure,” she said, directing her remarks in general to the company. “I myself saw to that! She is well suited to being a mistress of a fine, large estate! If Dalrymple had not been sold early on, she would have ruled there!”
“Well said, Aunt Stukely,” said Burke, giving her a warm smile of approval. “I am quite aware of my bride’s abilities along that line. She was ever conscious of her duty, and intelligent in its performance. I am resting confident that Penhallow will be safe in her capable and beautiful hands.”
Graceful speeches, all, thought Lesley. But how many daggers lay behind Denise’s speech! Was Burke still seeing her? How soon might she expect him to make his excuses and leave Penhallow to seek out his mistress in London?
“Well, well, very nicely spoken,” said Uncle Stukely. “However, that does not change the fact that Viola and that little demon Sandy will be in your way, in the months when you are adjusting to each other. We shall keep them safe for you, against the time when the courts rule about that, of course.”
Lesley froze, went stiff in Burke’s protective arm. He squeezed her waist again, warningly.
Burke said calmly, “Oh, Alexander’s will is quite clear on that point. The children shall be in the care of the nearest married relative — and that is now Lesley, and of course myself, as her husband. We do not need to wait for the courts to rule. All is quite clear. And you have done nobly by them, but you must wish to get on with your own affairs. So — we shall pick them up on Wednesday morning and proceed to Kent!”
Uncle Stukely gave a snort. “Well, we shall see about that,” he said, and forced a jovial smile that sat ill on his red face with his angry eyes. “A night of honeymoon, and you might not be so eager to have those children with you.” And he stalked away.
Lesley felt flushed with shame at the laughing voices about her. Burke murmured, “Come into my study, dear. I have something for you,” and he turned her towards that direction.
She went numbly with him. He led her into the dark, empty study at the back of the house. Once in the room, with the door shut, he went over to a picture on the wall, moved the frame as if to open a small door, and began to dial the combination of the safe behind it.
“Burke, Uncle Stukely means to make trouble!” said Lesley urgently. “How we can be sure that Sandy is even still there ... I do not know! How can we be certain ... oh, Burke, they may have taken him away already!”
“You need have no fear on that score.” He sent her a smile over his shoulder as he reached into the safe and drew out a leather box. He shut and locked the safe again, and carefully restored the picture. Then he came to her and handed her the case. “Open it, my dear.”
She held it numbly, paying little attention to it. “How can you be sure?” she insisted. “Uncle Stukely is clever and full of tricks...”
Burke took the small case from her impatiently, and snapped it open. Lesley stared at the contents resting on the velvet lining: a beautiful ruby in a heart shape, twelve carats or larger, set about with beautiful diamond points, with matching earrings, small and delicate, of rubies and diamonds.
“How beautiful!” she said involuntarily.
He smiled in relief. He took out the pendant and held it up, so that the ruby heart dangled on the golden chain. “Let me put it on you,” he said in a kind voice, and she turned about. She felt his fingers on the nape of her neck; warm though they were, a shiver went down her spine. He completed the fastening, turned her about. She straightened the small ruby pendant.
“Yes ... beautiful.” He bent and touched her lips lightly with his.
“Thank you, Burke,” she said. “They are lovely.” With the aid of a small mirror near the door, she replaced the gold earrings she wore with the ruby and diamond ones. “There. How pretty!” And she turned her head this way and that, admiring the sparkle of the jewels. “You are most kind. But Burke ... about Sandy...”
He grinned, with that flicker of mischief that had been so familiar in their young days. “I have had the house watched by several men, night and day, since our engagement,” he said softly. “I wanted to make sure there was not any night-time flitting, or daytime either!”
Lesley stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, Burke! How good, how kind, how — how intelligent!” she cried.
She flung her arms spontaneously about his neck and lifted her face. He bent his head, and their lips met, in a long kiss. She had not meant to do this, merely to kiss his shaved cheek, and it startled her to feel his hard mouth on hers yet again. And the smell of his cologne, the rough feel of his hard chin on her soft one...
The door opened behind them, shocking them both. They were caught with arms about each other, kissing.
Laughter came in with the small crowd. “Here they are, the married couple!” cried Uncle Stukely, but his small pig-eyes were not happy. They were furious. What had he hoped to see, Lesley wondered. A quarrel?
“May a man not be alone with his bride for a moment?” sighed Burke Penhallow, and turned Lesley about gently. “I merely wished to present her with a wedding gift. Do you like it, Aunt Felicia?” he added, with irony perhaps only Lesley heard, knowing her aunt’s greedy interest in jewels.
“Oh, my, rubies and diamonds!” Denise Huntington gasped. Behind her, Guy Janssen had crowded into the small, dark study.
Lesley looked at him with concealed dislike. The Frenchman was not among her favourite peo
ple. He was in his mid-thirties, today wearing a black curly wig of immense height over his dyed black hair. He wore black and silver velvet, a foppish, drooping velvet hat and lace jabots. He dripped with jewels on all his fingers, and even in one ear.
“Is there not some saying about rubies and a wife?” sneered Aunt Felicia, glaring covetously at the jewels. “I am sure Lesley means to be a good wife — but my dear Burke, do you really think —”
Her snappish tone was interrupted by the Reverend Edgar Creswick, who had followed them into the room, Viola on his arm.
In solemn voice, he intoned, “‘Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good, and not evil, all the days of her life.’”
“Exactly right, dear friend Edgar,” said Burke Penhallow smoothly. “That is why I chose rubies for my new very dear wife and partner on life’s highway!”
Denise laughed in a high, shrill tone, and so did Aunt Felicia. The men were silent, gazing from Lesley to Burke. Viola came over to her sister and kissed her cheek.
“And so shall you be to him,” she said softly, clearly. “I wish you joy of each other! This marriage will indeed be blessed!”
Her innocent honesty dampened the cattish mood of the other guests. Burke managed to get them all out of the study and back among the milling crowd of drinking guests in the drawing rooms.
Guy Janssen hovered near to Lesley, and Aunt Stukely was not far away. He reached out to touch Lesley’s pendant, and she shrank from him. Burke frowned heavily, the man dropped his hand with a smirk.
“I did but with to thee the jewel,” he lisped. “So striking, so stunning! Most unusual. It sparkles so in the lamplights...”
“Thank you,” said Burke curtly. “They are but newly cleaned, and fresh pointed by a good jeweller.” He turned away, impatient with the conversation.
Janssen’s eyes lingered on Lesley, from the jewels to her face and back. He tried to smile into her eyes, but she half-turned with Burke to avoid those knowing grey shining eyes. He seemed like a sleek well-fed cat in his black and silver velvets, his silent shoes that slid over the floor, the hissing sound of his imperfect English smattered with French words.
The Ruby Heart: A classic Regency love story Page 6