‘My compliments to you, Arlette,’ he reprimanded contemptuously, ‘on your duplicity, your deceit and your disloyalty. You should not have involved yourself in something that was not your concern.’
His voice was like a razor slicing into her. Her heart wrenched with pain at the unfairness of the accusations he was flinging at her. ‘It became my concern when she told me about her love for James. My conscience and my sense of duty would not allow me to walk away.’
‘It is obvious to me that some misguided sense of honour caused you to feel duty-bound to aid your sister in her subterfuge and deceit, and you are condemned in my opinion when you became intoxicated with that particular sentiment.’ His sense of outrage at her collusion was compounded by her deception. The sense of betrayal he felt was as powerful as anything he’d ever felt in his life. ‘How could you have allowed yourself to become involved—to become a go-between delivering messages? As far as I am concerned you were all in this together, conspiring behind my back.’
Arlette was beginning to feel her own form of rage as she listened to him unfairly malign her. Bristling with resentment at his highhandedness, her face flamed with indignation. ‘How dare you say that to me. In the same situation you would have done exactly as I did. Marian confided in me. She had no one else. It was not my place to tell you what she told me in confidence, but I did advise her to tell you. And, yes, I did agree to take her letter to James, just the one, because quite rightly I believed he had a right to know, that the sooner it could all be sorted out the better. I have done nothing that I am ashamed of, William. Nothing to deserve this kind of treatment from you of all people.’
‘And how would you have me treat you, Arlette? It has not escaped my notice that now I am no longer committed to Marian the field is open for you. Was that what you thought? Was that why you agreed to collaborate in their subterfuge and deceit?’
William was fighting her, Arlette knew, trying to shut her out, and he was succeeding, but she would not stand accused of aiding and abetting Marian in her romantic liaison with James in an attempt to procure William for herself. Upon her soul, she had never been spoken to in such a harsh and brutal way and she could hear over and over again the words he had so cruelly flung at her: duplicity, deceit and disloyalty. His blue eyes seemed sheathed in ice. At the moment she would have said or done anything to reach him. She could not believe that this cold, remote stranger was the same tender, passionate man who had kissed her so tenderly—that he could be doing this to her. He spoke sarcastically, with a kind of cold contempt in his voice. Anger welled up suddenly in Arlette’s heart, flushing her cheeks and bringing a sparkle to her eyes. She took a step towards him.
‘How dare you accuse me of something so base? Please don’t flatter yourself, William. You made it quite plain that there is no future for us together. As far as I am concerned nothing has changed—and does it escape your mind that in all probability I am about to become betrothed to Sir Ralph? Despite the weakness I have shown on two occasions when I have found myself alone with you—which I have now come to regret—I have never had any aspirations where you are concerned and my pride would not allow me to be second-best for any man.’
Her apparent lack of contrition fuelled William’s anger. ‘You were never that. Have you no sense of fairness?’
Arlette saw the harshness in his taut features and sighed with helpless understanding. ‘I know how dreadful this must be for you,’ she said quietly. ‘But it is right that James and Marian marry.’
‘Because Sefton has been unable to keep his hands off her it is the only solution. The combination of your silence about Marian’s relationship with Sefton and your collaboration makes me acutely disappointed in you. I was about to make Marian my wife, for God’s sake! I trusted her, loved her and she has betrayed me—’
‘Yes, William, just as you betrayed her with me—Marian’s own sister,’ Arlette reminded him fiercely, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘Were you thinking of Marian then?’
‘Exactly. Somehow that makes the situation a whole lot worse and more sordid, and on top of this and other emotions there is the inevitability of a huge sense of humiliation.’
‘And hurt pride,’ she stated coldly.
William stared at her through narrowed eyes. Arlette shrank, trembling beneath the blast of his gaze. Her mouth went dry and her heart began to beat with a terrifying dread as she sensed that he had seemingly withdrawn from her for good. His expression was one of controlled anger. It was as if the passion and tenderness they had shared had never existed. This was a stranger, a terrifying stranger.
William continued to stare at her, almost as if he didn’t know her. After several moments of silence that Arlette didn’t feel she should break, he spoke.
‘Are you to remain with Marian until I have a date and time for the ceremony?’
When she replied, Arlette tried to keep her tone level, but inside, her emotions were in turmoil. After all that had happened that day, what she wanted to do was curl up and hide in some dark corner. But she had to get through this.
‘Yes, of course. Marian is in no condition to be left alone just now. She needs me here.’
He nodded. ‘I will arrange everything and after that I shall leave for Warwick without delay.’
He held her gaze in silence, his eyes burning with anger and an unspeakable hurt. He backed away from her, his face becoming almost lost in the glare of the sun.
‘William!’ Arlette spoke his name with a plea for absolution, raised from the well of her own despair.
He turned from her and paused, his back to her. ‘You should have told me,’ his said, his voice a hollow whisper. ‘I trusted you of all people to be open and honest with me. Relationships are built on trust and you have just shattered that trust.’
Like the rush of an owl’s wings in the darkness of the night, his words reverberated in Arlette’s mind, punishing—long after he had left her.
* * *
With a terrible sense of hurt and betrayal by the two people who meant more to him than anyone else in the world, William strode away from Arlette in a torment of emotions. He returned to Whitehall, coolly polite to those around him, wishing he could find a scapegoat to crush to ease the intensity of the fury and pain that refused to abate, that became a deepening void that made each hour more unbearable than the last. Surprisingly, Marian’s deception didn’t hurt as much as Arlette’s failure to tell him something that was of such immense importance to him that he could not forgive her.
Yet how well he had come to know her. He could still feel the fragile warmth of her body in his arms, in his senses, recall the delicate fragrance of her flesh, the taste of her on his lips, and see the luminous blue-green eyes that had gazed into his with such soft, trusting candour. The memory was both a lifeline and a curse.
* * *
Having no wish to dwell on what was done, the following days became a flurry of activity as Arlette and Marian made preparations for Marian’s marriage to James. Marian had fallen into a moody, dreamlike rhythm of listless malaise. She punished herself, riven with guilt for the pain she had caused William, and it was only with Arlette’s clear-headed thinking that she was made to realise that she must accept what had happened and get on with things and prepare for her wedding. But Marian wanted desperately to see William, to explain, to beg his forgiveness, but of William there was no word.
Initially, Arlette—always considerate of Marian’s condition and worried that her distress might harm the baby—was supportive and willing to be of help in all aspects. But inside—infected by William’s punishing recriminations and her own overwhelming sense of guilt for having kept Marian’s relationship with James from him—Arlette was trying to deal with a hurt the likes of which she had never experienced. How could pain that had not been inflicted physically hurt so much?
But as the days passed, days filled with sewing Marian’s wedding fin
ery—the bales of cloth provided by Richard as a wedding gift—and she and Marian getting to know each other better, Arlette noticed a definite change in herself. A stronger, more resilient Arlette emerged. For the first time since William had gone she began to realise that one could punish oneself for only so long. Sooner or later a person of strength must either succumb or accept the situation. She had done nothing wrong, so why did she feel like the victim? William had gone and he did not deserve that she should abase herself for him. Yes, he would appear to give them details of the wedding ceremony and be present when it happened, but then he would leave and not return.
While Arlette was staying with Marian she took the opportunity to visit Anne and Edward at Willoughby House further along the Strand. Everyone was pleased to see her, especially the children. She was away for the whole afternoon and when she managed to tear herself away and return to Marian, she was surprised when Marian told her that William had called to inform her of the arrangements he had made with James’s parents for the wedding. His visit had been fleeting and Arlette was disappointed that she had missed seeing him, but in another way she was relieved. She didn’t think she could face any more unpleasantness so it was best they avoided each other.
The wedding was to take place the following week at the small house chapel at Willow Hall, which was just half a mile from Oaklands House. Now everything was out in the open James was a frequent visitor and on one occasion Marian accompanied him to Willow Hall to make the acquaintance of his mother. She had already met Lord Sefton in Bruges. Lord Sefton had met her father on several occasions during their years in exile and he was pleased with the match—and the fact that his son was to leave his wayward way of life behind and settle down with a wife and child was an immense relief to him.
But unbeknown to Marian and Arlette, Lady Sefton had not been so accommodating when William had visited them. The conversation had been conducted in a polite and civilised manner, but Lady Sefton, with her Puritan upbringing and rigid moral principles, had left him in no doubt of her displeasure over this forced marriage between her son and a young woman who had been so foolish and lacking in morals as to give herself to a man before marriage. Not even the generous dowry Marian’s late father had provided for his daughter on her marriage could compensate for this.
Arlette accompanied Marian and James on the journey, but did not go all the way to Willow Hall. Taking the opportunity to see Hester at Oaklands House, they arranged to call on the return journey so that Marian could be introduced to Arlette’s older sister.
Hester came out of the house to meet Marian and James. Arlette made the introductions. Hester stopped and gazed at Arlette’s younger half-sister, the warmth in her eyes giving way to a frank stare. ‘I am delighted to meet you, Marian, and I can’t tell you the relief I feel now that Arlette has found you. Your existence has been a long-held secret which I deeply regret. Whatever I expected when she told me, I was not prepared to see such a strong likeness between the two of you. There’s much of your mother in you both and you’ve the same tilt of your chin as Arlette. I am happy to meet you, Marian—you don’t mind if I call you Marian?’
‘I would not have you address me by any other name, Hester. You do not mind that I have come?’
‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind. If you knew how I miss my family...’
Marian smiled. ‘We both have a connection in Arlette. I cannot believe how lucky I am to find I have a family after so many years of believing there was just me and my parents. When James and I marry, we will be neighbours and see each other often.’
‘There will be a welcome at Oaklands House anytime you wish to call. But what am I doing, leaving you standing out here like this? Come inside,’ Hester said, ushering them into the house to partake of some refreshment.
Following them inside, Arlette felt a sudden surge of relief and gratitude towards Hester for welcoming Marian with such sincere warmth and acceptance. Knowing Hester would never feel anything but bitterness for their mother’s betrayal of their father and the pain he had suffered because of it, Arlette had been anxious about her meeting with Marian, but she could see she need not have worried. But not until Thomas came home would their family be complete.
* * *
The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Marian was a graceful figure in a beautiful muted blue-and-gold silk brocade gown with matching adornments of blue silk ribbons. Arlette had arranged her hair in ringlets with a wisp of curls on her forehead. She was the epitome of pure perfection and the sight of her brought tears to Arlette’s eyes.
‘You are so pretty, Marian. You make a beautiful bride.’
‘As you will one day, Arlette. I look forward to that day.’
As soon as they arrived at Willow Hall—a large mansion, elaborately ornamented with decorative plaster and stonework and armorial glass—Arlette felt the cold atmosphere inside the chapel. Her carefully held nerves prior to the ceremony were already strained by William’s arrival to escort them to Willow Hall. The parlour suddenly seemed too small for William’s height. He stood facing Arlette and her heart set up its familiar wild beating as she looked up into his face. The lines about his mouth and eyes were testament to the strain he had been under since Marian had confessed her love for James.
She had fought her unease on seeing him again, smothering the wave of shock that washed over her, reminding herself that she had done no wrong. Her proud, disdainful eyes met and held his without flinching. She was discovering, agreeably, that now she was face to face with him once more, their last unpleasant encounter that had haunted her since she had last seen him had vanished. He was aloof and she suspected he was still under considerable strain himself. When the ceremony was over he would leave for Warwick and she sincerely hoped he would take heart, knowing he had done his best where the daughter of his close friend Lord Francis Stanhope was concerned, even though James Sefton had not been Lord Stanhope’s choice of bridegroom for his daughter.
When he had entered the house in town earlier his gaze had fallen on Marian. A hard glint of approval kindled in his eyes, then it was gone. His voice was strained when in flat tones he complimented her on her gown and enquired as to her health. Arlette could only guess at the intensity of his feelings from the way his strong fists bunched and un-bunched at his sides.
‘You are to accompany Marian to Willow Hall?’ he asked Arlette.
Arlette looked at him directly, his manner setting her on edge. As though some stranger inside her spoke, she heard herself say witheringly, ‘Surely my attendance on Marian at her wedding has never been in any doubt. She is my sister. I am to be her maid of honour. Naturally I am to go with her. Afterwards I will return to Oaklands House. My trunk has been sent on so I shall have no reason to return here.’
He merely nodded, his expression grim. ‘Then there is no reason for us to delay. We will leave for Willow Hall.’
Marian stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on his arm. ‘I beg you for a moment of your time, William.’
He looked at her and nodded. ‘What is it, Marian?’
‘I would like to explain. I know I don’t deserve your consideration after everything I’ve put you through,’ she said with deep sincerity. ‘I never meant to hurt you and I truly am so sorry.’
Arlette stood back, watching them both. William looked so strong standing there, so in control, but whether he loved Marian or not, his bodily strength couldn’t protect his heart from the pain.
‘I know how it must look,’ Marian went on, ‘and I have been unintentionally selfish. You and I...we were drawn together by circumstances. I—I didn’t know the man I became betrothed to—any more than you knew me. You were always preoccupied with matters concerning the King. You should not have agreed to marry me—nor I you.’
‘Then why did you, Marian? I did not pressure you into marrying me.’
‘I know, but I did so for the security I needed on
suddenly finding myself alone.’ She smiled. ‘I didn’t know the man I was betrothed to. I think we were both trying to do what my father had wanted. It was the wrong reason for us to marry. You deserved better. I doubt our friendship would have been strong enough for a happy marriage.’
‘And you think marriage to James will?’
‘Yes. I know it will. James and I found something in each other that we needed. At first we tried to ignore those feelings, but the more we saw of each other, the more they strengthened. I’m sorry I broke my promise, William. I didn’t mean to let you down. All I can do is pray that you will remember our early friendship and learn to forgive me some day.’
William looked at her for a long moment and then he sighed, reaching out and cupping her chin in his hand. ‘I already have, Marian, and you are right. We were both trying to do right by your father, but I think he would have approved of you marrying James. Your happiness came above all else.’ He smiled. ‘Now come along. We have a wedding to get to.’
* * *
The journey to Willow Hall was not as strained as Arlette had expected since William declined to accompany them in the coach, preferring instead to ride. As they travelled over the rutted thoroughfare she tried to assimilate what was happening. She was disappointed that William continued to thrust her away.
Glancing at him out of the window, seeing how he rode beside the coach in a frosty silence, she felt a surge of anger. She had kept Marian’s confidence out of loyalty to her, but judging by the violence of William’s reaction he obviously continued to think she shouldn’t have. None of what had happened was her fault, yet he was blaming her. The more she thought of this injustice the angrier she became. If he thought for one moment that she would forget the cruel things he had said, then he didn’t know her as well as he thought. How dare he treat her like this?
Reunited at the King's Court Page 16