Читать книгу Lady Polly - Nicola Cornick, Nicola Cornick - Страница 11

“Well, I think it is a famous thing that you and Harry are now such good friends,” Lucille Seagrave declared at breakfast, when Polly shyly confided that Lord Henry was to take her driving that afternoon.

“I do not think Mama will view it in quite the same light, Lucille,” Polly said gloomily. The Dowager Countess had been almost apoplectic on finding her only daughter alone on the terrace at Lady Phillips’s with the most notorious rake in Town. Polly’s repeated statement that she and Lord Henry had only been talking together had met with short shrift. Not only did the Dowager disbelieve her but she had some pungent words to say about young ladies who decided to talk alone with rakehells.

A moment later, the Dowager swished bad-temperedly into the breakfast room and eyed her daughter and daughter-in-law with disfavour.

“What are you two whispering about?” she demanded querulously. She asked for a plate of kedgeree then picked at it so disagreeably that Polly’s heart sank. She could already tell that the Dowager Countess had a headache, induced by her late night at the theatre, and would be in a bad mood.

“I was telling Lucille that Lord Henry Marchnight is to take me driving this afternooon,” she said, rather defiantly. “He is to collect me at five.”

The Dowager flushed an unbecoming puce.

“Driving? With Lord Henry Marchnight? Have you taken leave of your senses, miss? Why, the man’s unsafe!”

“As a whip or as a man?” Nicholas Seagrave enquired lazily, rustling his newspaper. He had given no indication that he had been listening to the previous conversation, but now Polly saw the look of amusement in her brother’s dark eyes and her heart sank still further. If Nicholas objected as well, the trip was as good as ruined. Lucille gave her husband a reproving glance.

“I am persuaded that nothing so very dreadful can happen in the park, ma’am,” she said mildly to her mother-in-law. “There will be plenty of people about, after all.”

The Dowager cast her a darkling look. “You have no idea of what that man is capable, Lucille! And it is not simply the risk to Polly’s person, but the damage to her reputation! If she is seen in company with him, all claim to respectability would be lost—”

“Oh, come, Mama, you are making too much of this,” Nicholas interrupted. “Harry Marchnight is a good enough fellow! He will not do anything to injure Polly’s good name! I say she should go!”

He folded his paper up a little irritably, got up, bent to kiss his wife and murmured that he was taking refuge in his bookroom.

“Some honey in your tea, ma’am?” Lucille said hastily, seeing her mother-in-law glare at Seagrave’s departing back. “You know that it is very soothing for the headache.”

The Dowager Countess smiled reluctantly. She was very fond of her unconventional daughter-in-law.

“Thank you, Lucille. It is good to know that you have so much concern for my health when my own brood seem set on tormenting me! Now, will you be accompanying me to Mrs Manbury’s this afternoon? I realise that Polly—” she glared again “—will be otherwise engaged!”

Polly was to remember Seagrave’s unlikely championing and her mother’s reluctant acquiescence later, when she was ensconsed in Lord Henry’s perch phaeton and they were bowling along under the trees. They were attracting a great deal of attention from the fashionable crowds who had come to take the air and Polly had begun to wish that she had taken her mother’s advice. She felt uncomfortable as the focus of so much speculative interest. Nor did Lord Henry stop to greet his acquaintance, but concentrated his attention solely on her. Polly thought she should have been flattered. Instead, such single-minded attention was beginning to make her nervous. She was suddenly unsure where it was leading—or where it might end.

And yet Lord Henry’s conversation was unexceptionable. Surely she had nothing to fear.

“Are you enjoying the Season?” he enquired, expertly avoiding an oncoming vehicle which was being driven with considerably less skill and more waywardness than his own. “Do you like London?”

Polly relaxed slightly. It was most enjoyable to be out in the fresh air, for it was another sunny day with a cool breeze and to be driven with such expertise was a real pleasure.

“Are those not two entirely separate questions, my lord?” she queried with a smile. “I have found the Season a little flat this year, but yes, I like London a great deal, for there are so many beautiful buildings and interesting sights to observe. There, will that do?”

Lord Henry took his eyes off the road for long enough to give her an amused glance. “Most comprehensively answered, my lady, but with little real information given! Why has the Season been so tedious for you?”

Polly shrugged a little uncomfortably, regretting her flippancy. She had no desire to sound like a spoilt Society miss. “Well, the round of parties and balls and entertainments is much like it was last time. Perhaps I am becoming a little jaded after all these years—”

Lord Henry burst out laughing. “Yes, you have a great many years in your dish, ma’am!” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps it is just that you need a change of scene? Do you go to Brighton in the summer?”

Polly nodded without much enthusiasm. “We do. But it is the same people and the same diversions!” She brightened. “I love the sea though, and find the air most refreshing. I don’t know why I should not be looking forward to it…” Her voice trailed away. She was regretting telling him of her boredom with the endless, superficial round of society events, for it sounded as though she were simply complaining.

“Perhaps you prefer the country?” Lord Henry was saying thoughtfully. “Suffolk is a beautiful place to be. You seemed very happy at Dillingham last year.”

“Yes…” Polly smiled “…I love Dillingham. I can ride, and paint and walk and please myself…”

Lord Henry flashed her another smile. “So you are a rebel at heart, Lady Polly! You wish to please yourself rather than follow the fashion!”

It was an appealing concept. “Gentlemen are more fortunate when it comes to such matters,” Polly observed judiciously. “You may do as you please, but we are watched over and instructed and restricted…And if we marry, the tyranny of our parents is exchanged for the tyranny of a husband!” Filled with a sudden sense of absurdity at her own words, she started to laugh.

“I wondered whether that was why you had never married,” Lord Henry said quietly. “Is that the reason, ma’am? That you had no wish to exchange a circumscribed girlhood for an equally restrictive marriage?”

Polly’s laughter faded and she fell silent. The only sound was the noise of the phaeton’s wheels and the cooing of the doves in the shady trees.

“No,” she said slowly, “that was not the reason that I have never married.”

“Then will you tell me what it is?” They had reached a quiet stretch of the road and Lord Henry was allowing his team to slow down while he concentrated on her. Their eyes met for a split second of tension.

“No,” Polly said again, half-lightly, half in earnest, “I shall not, sir! You have no right to ask so leading a question on so small an acquaintance!”

She saw Lord Henry smile as he accepted her refusal and allowed her to retreat.

“I protest,” he said easily. “I have known you for years, ma’am, yet you insist we are as strangers!”

“We may have been acquainted for years,” Polly agreed, equally casually, “but for most of that time you have been away, sir, travelling or entertaining yourself…” She frowned as it occurred to her that she did not actually know what it was that had taken Lord Henry away so often. Society whispered that it was scandal—women, gambling, racing—but no one actually knew…

“Very true, ma’am,” Lord Henry agreed, clearly unprepared to enlighten her further. “Like you, I find Society stifling if I spend too long in its company! I have noticed a change in London lately. Oh, the ton enjoy themselves as much as before, with as many outrageous amusements as they can devise, but the rest of the populace is not as tolerant as it used to be!”

Polly knew what he meant. There were so many of the dispossessed on the streets, looking resentfully as the rich and fashionable passed by, so many men who had served their country at war and now had no occupation in peace time. There were many who preached against the accepted order and agitated for change and some who would be prepared to resort to violence to get it.

“There is a sort of anger about the city at times,” Polly agreed, shivering in the cool air. “I sometimes wonder how long things can stay unchanged…”

“Melancholy thoughts for so bright a day,” Lord Henry observed. “My apologies for striking a discordant note. Why, look, is that not your esteemed relative Lady Bolt, over there? Your brother will be desolate that she has found a richer man in the Duke of Garston!”

“Oh, dear!” Polly looked across to the approaching curricle, where Lady Bolt was arrayed in a dress of scarlet silk entirely unsuitable for an afternoon’s drive. A hat adorned with curling ostrich plumes framed her face. Polly felt both dowdy and insignificant in comparison.

“Henry!” Lady Bolt was hailing them now, with more familiarity than Polly liked to see. “How delightful to see you! Why—” her eye fell on Polly in amused scorn “—hardly your usual taste, my dear? So sweet and tediously dull!”

Polly flushed with anger and mortification. It would have been impossible to miss Lady Bolt since the two carriages had to pass each other, and as she and Henry had slowed down to talk, the Cyprian had come upon them almost unawares. Nevertheless it was unfortunate. The Dowager Countess would have a fit if she heard of the meeting, and as for Lady Bolt’s barbed insults, it strained Polly’s natural courtesy to accept them without retaliation.

“How do you do, Lady Bolt.” Lord Henry spoke very coldly. “I fear I was so engrossed in Lady Polly’s delightful company that I missed your approach! Good day, ma’am!” And he gave the horses the office to move off.

“Oh, dear,” Polly said again, when the infuriated Cyprian had been left behind, “it is so very difficult! Lucille is so charming and her sister so much her opposite! I would not for all the world cut her dead, but—”

“But you have little choice,” Lord Henry said grimly. “Society dictates that a lady such as yourself should not even know what Lady Bolt is, let alone speak to her—as well you know, ma’am!”

“Yes, but—” Polly was a kind girl; although she detested Susanna Bolt’s nature, she could not help but feel uncomfortable. “Lucille once said that they were both obliged to find the means to support themselves, and Susanna chose one course and Lucille another! It is easy to judge when one has not had to make such a choice!”

“You are all generosity, Lady Polly!” Polly knew Lord Henry was laughing at her, albeit somewhat ruefully. “Console yourself with the fact that Susanna Bolt is a harpy and you will then feel no need to sympathize with her!”

“You seem to know her very well,” Polly said unguardedly, piqued by his amusement.

“I know her type,” Lord Henry conceded. They turned through the park gates and back towards Brook Street. “I am happy to continue this entirely improper conversation,” he added, “but only if you are willing to admit to being its instigator! I will not take the blame for discussing matters unsuitable for a lady’s ears!”

“Society can be very foolish,” Polly said crossly, “dictating what a lady may and may not do, or hear, or say! It puts me out of all patience!”

The phaeton stopped and Lord Henry jumped lightly down, holding out a hand to help Polly descend. He did not allow their bodies to touch as he swung her to the ground, nor did he hold on to her hand for longer than was strictly necessary. Polly found herself disappointed. For some reason the drive had ended on an unsatisfactory note. Polly was inclined to blame Lady Bolt’s interruption, although honesty prompted her that this was not really true. It seemed that she was dissatisfied when Lord Henry behaved properly and nervous when he did not. Flirtation was clearly not a game she could play with anywhere near Lord Henry’s aplomb.

The flower cart arrived early in Brook Street the following day, bringing a beautiful posy of pale pink roses for Polly and a card from Lord Henry saying that he had been called unexpectedly from Town, but hoped to see her again shortly. Polly did not even attempt to hide her pleasure in the gift, merely burying her face in the soft fragrant petals when Jessie made pointed comments about fine gentlemen and pretty gestures.

The days of Lord Henry’s absence crept by. There were only a few weeks of the Season left to run and the weather had turned very hot. The Dowager Countess became quite peevish when her ankles swelled up in the heat. She declined to accompany Polly and the Dacres on a sightseeing trip to St Paul’s Cathedral and when her daughter returned enervated and exhausted, told her that she had known the weather had been too inclement for a trip out. She fretted over Peter’s absence and when he did call, upbraided him for his foolishness in still running after Susanna Bolt. The servants all became very bad-tempered as they went about their work, and the house in Brook Street became a somewhat uncomfortable place to live.

“Everyone is so cross at the moment,” Polly sighed to Lucille, after Jessie had grumbled ceaselessly over her decision to change her chosen dress for a soirée one night. “Have you noticed how the heat makes people quicker-tempered? It’s very strange. Thank goodness there is to be no dancing tonight! I feel sure we should all melt into a puddle!”

Lucille fanned herself vigorously. “I hear that there were riots in The Strand last night,” she said, frowning. “Some windows were smashed and shops looted. I am sure that this weather can only add to people’s grievances. I shall ask Nicholas to give all the servants a day off on Saturday, and perhaps we may all go out of Town to somewhere cooler. Hampstead Wells, perhaps? A walk on the Heath might be quite refreshing.”

Even the Dowager Countess agreed to the proposed trip, feeling that the village air would be less noxious than that in London. The day was sunny but not too hot and they spent a most enjoyable few hours strolling on the Heath, playing bowls, and taking the waters at the spa. Polly declared the water so unpleasant that she needed a cup of tea to wash away the taste, so they retired to one of the honeysuckle-covered tea arbours for further refreshment.

“Oh, do let us stay a little longer,” Lucille urged, catching sight of a sign which promised a concert in the pump-room that evening, followed by fireworks. “There are plenty more of the gardens and grottoes to explore and it would be such fun to stay for the evening’s entertainments!”

The light was fading when the concert finished and they came out on to the Heath for the firework display. It was busy and many of the benches on the edge of the hill were already full.

“Heavens, what a crush!” The Dowager Countess exclaimed. “I had no idea that the whole of Town would have come out for this! Let us walk a little way along and see if we can find any seats!”

Polly was dawdling along behind the others, pulling her velvet cloak closer, for the evening was cool now that the sun had gone. A florid gentleman and large lady, amorously entwined, bumped into her and almost sent her flying without noticing. Polly stumbled. The first of the rockets soared into the sky above her and scattered a trail of bright stars. Suddenly it was very dark and she could not see the others at all. The crowd pressed about her; ladies, gentlemen, servants, tradesmen, cits and people of quite another sort.

A voice said: “All alone, lady? Let me take care of you!” He was young and attired as a gentleman, but Polly knew him to be no such thing. He was also drunk. And as she looked around wildly for her family, he took her arm.

“Your help will not be necessary, sir,” a voice said smoothly, from behind her. “The lady is with me, but I am grateful to you for your consideration.”

Polly recognised the voice even before she swung around to see Lord Henry Marchnight standing so protectively close to her. Something in his demeanour also communicated itself to the man who had accosted her, for he mumbled something about meaning no harm, and stumbled away. Lord Henry watched him go with a slight smile then turned his attention back to Polly.

“Tell me, Lady Polly,” he said conversationally, steering her out of the crowd to the edge of the path, “is this part of your claim for independence, to wander alone on Hampstead Heath in the dark? It seems rather foolhardy!”

“Don’t be absurd!” Polly snapped. Reaction was setting in now and she was horrified at what had almost happened to her. “I have become separated from my party, that is all! We were looking for seats for the fireworks—” Another rocket soared overhead as though to illustrate her point.

“Well, they could be anywhere now,” Lord Henry said resignedly, looking at the crowds. “It will be best for me to escort you back to your carriage, I think. They should have no trouble in finding you there. Is Seagrave here with you?”

Polly nodded.

“Thank God. He at least will have the sense to keep the others calm and search for you in a sensible fashion! Now, if we go down this path it should take us to the Well Walk. Did you leave your carriage there?”

Polly nodded unhappily. She knew that the Dowager Countess would be beside herself with worry and could not but regret spoiling the end of such a lovely day.

“We were having such a nice time,” she said regretfully. “I am sorry that it has had to end this way.”

It was very dark down the steep little passage that led to the street where the carriages were waiting. The scent of honeysuckle still hung in the air and the stars arched above them. Polly, trying to find her way in the dark, suddenly remembered that she had not even thanked Lord Henry for rescuing her.

“I am sorry,” she said in a small voice, “I should have thanked you. Your arrival was most timely, my lord. I hope that I have not taken you away from your friends?”

“I am here alone,” Lord Henry said, sounding preoccupied. “It is comforting to think that you feel safer with me than with that ruffian!”

This was an aspect of the situation that had not occurred to Polly at all. She stopped in an arched doorway. It was not possible to see Lord Henry’s face in the pale light. “Oh, I never even thought—” she said, uncertainly.

“Perhaps you should have done.” Lord Henry sounded grim. “You were flatteringly quick to entrust yourself to me, but my reputation is scarce such that a young lady should consider taking a walk in the dark with me!”

“Well!” Polly had had time to become indignant. “I think it most unfair of you to ring a peal over me for trusting you, sir! I had little choice but to consider you the lesser of two evils!”

She heard Lord Henry laugh at that. “Better the devil you know?” His shoulder brushed a spray of honeysuckle and released fresh scent into the air. He was very close and Polly suddenly became intensely aware of his physical presence. Her throat felt constricted.

“Besides…” she was clutching at straws now “…on the last occasion that we met, sir, you behaved with perfect propriety! It led me to believe that what I had heard of you was grossly exaggerated—”

She had taken a cautious step forward as she spoke, missed her footing on a step, and felt Lord Henry’s arms go around her to steady her.

“You misjudged me,” Lord Henry said with satisfaction, “and this, Lady Polly, is where I have been wanting you ever since I saw you this evening.”

The dark night was intimate and warm. Polly felt curiously anonymous, as though she could say anything, do anything, without it really mattering. She did not try to break away from him, but stood in the circle of his arms, their bodies touching lightly. In the silence she could hear him breathing.

She raised her mouth to Henry’s, waiting in a fever of anticipation for the gentle persuasiveness of his first kiss to deepen into passion. She pressed herself against him, entwining her arms about his neck to hold him close. He was keeping his kisses frustratingly light, but when Polly slid her hands into his hair she heard him groan and his mouth returned to hers with more force and more demand. She parted her lips beneath the sensual pressure of his and leaned back against the doorway, drawing him with her. It was as though she had become a creature of sensation only. Her cloak had slid back and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers creating a delicious, seductive need within her. One of his hands brushed the cloak aside and moved to caress her breast very gently. His mouth was rough on hers now and she revelled in it, gasping his name against his lips. And then, suddenly, it was over and she was left shivering in the chill breeze.