Intrigue (Daughters of Mannerling 2) (14 page)

Lizzie nodded her head.

‘You must never do such a thing again, Lizzie. If you feel desperate again, then you must come to me. And we will talk and talk until your obsession with Mannerling leaves you.’ She leaned forward and put her arms around the girl and hugged her close. Lizzie gave a little sigh and leaned her head against Miss Trumble’s thin chest. ‘But you will go away,’ said Lizzie, her voice choking on a sob. ‘Mama was saying only the other day that perhaps we had enough of learning.’

‘I will stay until you are married, Lizzie.’

‘I may never marry. I am not beautiful like my sisters.’

‘When your time comes, you will outshine them. Now go to bed and try not to worry. Jessica must resolve her problems herself.’

Miss Trumble could not help noticing the next day how heavy-eyed Jessica looked. The arrival of a footman from Mannerling with a note summoning both Jessica and Lady Beverley to Mannerling ‘for a family consultation’ was met by complacency by Lady Beverley and a sort of stiff-faced acceptance by Jessica.

On arriving at Mannerling, Jessica tried not to feel relieved when she was told that Harry was absent. She hoped the hurried wedding was to be put off. But Mr and Mrs Devers told Lady Beverley that their son was anxious for an early wedding and they would like to set the date for six weeks’ time.

Jessica hoped her mother would protest, but all Lady Beverley did was smile indulgently and murmur something about the impetuosity of youth.

‘There will not be time to have a wedding gown made,’ said Jessica.

‘I know a very good woman in Hedgefield,’ said Mrs Devers, who never had any of her gowns made outside London.

Lady Beverley gave a trilling laugh, the sort of laugh taught to ladies by singing teachers, starting at the top note and rippling down the scale. ‘We cannot possibly have a Beverley going to the altar in a country gown. Isabella left her wedding gown behind. That will do very well, for she and Jessica are of a size.’

Mr Devers looked anxiously at Jessica. She looked sad and wan. He felt a stab of pity for her.

‘Perhaps Miss Jessica does not relish the idea of being married in her elder sister’s cast-off,’ he said.

‘No, it is all right,’ said Jessica wearily. ‘I do not mind, I assure you.’

The door opened and Robert Sommerville came in. His clever, handsome face was sombre as he looked at his aunt and uncle and then at the visitors. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, giving a low bow.

‘Pray join us,’ said Mrs Devers graciously. ‘We are about to have tea.’

Mr Devers noticed that a pink colour was now staining Jessica’s face. Robert sat down. He did not look at Jessica and she did not look at him, but the air between them seemed to crackle with tension.

Lady Beverley began to talk about the countryside, how various of the Mannerling tenants were faring – she had not visited any of them but had picked up gossip about people on the estate from Miss Turlow, whom she had met in the mercer’s the week before – quite in her old manner of mistress of Mannerling. Mrs Devers said crossly that she herself never visited the tenants because that was the job of the factor.

‘But my dear Mrs Devers, one always feels it is one’s duty.’ Lady Beverley gave her hostess a complacent smile, and in that moment Mrs Devers wished her wayward son had settled for an heiress, a meek and dutiful girl, and not one burdened with a family whose one ambition was to regain the house and lands.

With a slight edge in her voice, she looked at Jessica and said sweetly, ‘It is so pleasant to witness a love match in this mercenary age. I have paid no attention to the gossip that the Beverleys only wish to reclaim Mannerling. People are so unkind, do you not think? More tea, Jessica?’

‘No, I thank you.’ Jessica’s voice was so low, it was barely above a whisper.

‘The day is fine and not too cold,’ said Robert suddenly. ‘Perhaps Miss Jessica would care to walk in the gardens with me and leave you all to discuss guest lists and wedding arrangements.’

‘I don’t think . . .’ began Mr Devers uneasily, but Mrs Devers inclined her head and said it was a good idea.

When they were out of doors, Jessica said, ‘Do not begin to question me about how myself and Mama could sit there and let Mrs Devers talk about our sole ambition being to reclaim Mannerling without protesting or trying to defend ourselves.’

‘Perhaps because you cannot protest. But enough of that.
Are
you really prepared to go through with this?’

‘I must.’

‘Then I must leave the subject and leave Mannerling.’

Her eyes flew to his face. ‘You will not stay for the wedding?’

‘No, I have much to do. I must see the lawyers and turn Tarrant Hall over to my sister.’

‘Why? It seemed a most pleasant place.’

‘Honoria dared to interfere in my life because she wishes to remain mistress of Tarrant Hall. I will not brook such behaviour. I shall buy myself another property.’

‘That seems an extreme measure.’

‘Sometimes one must be ruthless to get what one wants. False duty to one’s family is a mistake. If one does the right thing – how can I explain? – if one does what is best for oneself,
morally
best, then things will work out. This is not a case of doing what is selfishly best.’

‘Do you mean that by doing my duty to my family, by marrying Harry, I am making a mistake?’

They had walked a little way from the house. He took her shoulders and swung her around. ‘There is the reason for your sacrifice. Look at it! It is a house, nothing more.’

And Jessica looked. A cloud had crossed the sun, and the house looked dark and somehow sad. She could feel the old spell of Mannerling surging about her. By marrying Harry she could regain what she had lost, all the sunny days of ease and comfort.

She owed it to her family, and she owed it to Mannerling. Robert let his hands drop to his sides. What would happen if he burnt the place down? he wondered wildly. Would the Beverleys mourn and then continue, one after the other, to make disastrous marriages in the hope of finding a husband with enough wealth to rebuild the place? The new term at Oxford would soon begin. Back to the cloistered life, away from the lovely Jessica and her obsession, away from Honoria and her interference in his affairs.

He gave a little sigh and then said, ‘It grows cold. Let us return.’

Jessica was sharply aware of his renewed disappointment in her. As they walked in silence towards the house, she realized that Mannerling had suddenly lost its spell for her again, and she was only aware of this tall, handsome man at her side, a man who could have been hers. But there was only Harry now to look forward to. Perhaps something would happen to him? Perhaps
he
would change his mind, rejoin his regiment, cry off.

When Lady Beverley and Jessica had left, Mr Devers turned to his wife and said, ‘I do think it is time Robert ended his visit.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I think he is enamoured of Jessica Beverley and I think the girl is not indifferent to him.’

Mrs Devers groaned. ‘I think this is too much. I think we should persuade Harry to end the engagement.’

‘Only Jessica can do that. The Beverleys could sue him for breach of promise. He proposed to her in the most public way possible, and an announcement has been sent to the newspapers.’

Mrs Devers shivered. ‘I shall be glad to leave here. This place has changed Harry. He was always such a sweet boy.’ And so once again she conveniently forgot all the scandals and trouble Harry had caused them before they even came to Mannerling.

Two weeks passed and there was no news of Harry. In despair, Mr Devers sent an express to Harry’s colonel, ordering his son’s return. The colonel’s reply was prompt and also by express. He had seen nothing, nor had he heard anything, of Harry Devers.

Harry was in London. He had gone through a considerable amount of money to satisfy his mistress, Maria Lanni. He had bought her jewels, he had bought her a house, and in order to do so, he had sold several properties in his name. Although such a sale demanded his father’s signature as well, Harry did not trouble himself with such trifles. He forged his father’s signature. He had forgotten almost completely about Jessica, being perpetually sunk in a sort of red lust. He was coming to the end of his assets. He had tried to raise money at the tables, but he was an unlucky gambler. Soon he was in serious debt. But the end of his passionate affair with Maria came not because he had run out of money, but because, visiting her in her dressing room after a rehearsal and finding her door locked, he had kicked the flimsy door open to find Maria naked and locked in the arms of the tenor.

She did not cry out in horror or look in the least ashamed. She dismissed the tenor and put on her clothes and then rounded on him, saying she was sick of him. She described the sickening brutality of his love-making in coarse and crude terms. Mad with rage, he tried to strangle her, but before he could get his hands around her throat, she screamed for help, and Harry found himself thrown out of the opera house and into the kennel by burly stage-hands.

He now hated her as much as he had loved her. He still had a key to her house. He went there and took all the jewels he had given her and sold them. Once more Mannerling called to him with its cool beautiful rooms and green lawns. But before leaving London he tried to recoup some of the money he had lost at the tables and succeeded only in losing all the money from the sale of the jewels. He obtained a special licence on the road home and, once at Mannerling, listened indifferently to his parents’ complaints, saying he had been doing business in London. The wedding could take place in a fortnight’s time, so what was all the fuss about?

Mr Devers said, ‘You had best call on your fiancée. You are in serious danger of losing the girl to your cousin Robert.’

Harry’s eyes narrowed with jealousy. ‘I’ll go there right away. You should have sent Robert packing.’

‘Fortunately, he sent himself. He is now back in Oxford. But you will get a cool reception. I would not be surprised if she cries off.’

Lizzie watched Harry riding towards Brookfield House and wondered why her prayers had not been answered. She had prayed so hard that he would never return. It was all so awful. Jessica was to be married in the local church in a second-hand wedding gown by the horrible Mr Stoppard, and despite Miss Trumble’s kind words, Lizzie still felt it was all her fault. She ran quickly down to the kitchen and peered around the door. It was empty. The cook was out in the garden, talking to Barry. She took a sack of flour from the larder and, hurriedly standing on a chair, she balanced the sack over the half-opened front door. Then she retreated to the shadowy back of the small hall and waited, hoping no one else had witnessed Harry’s arrival. She heard the creak of saddle leather as he dismounted and then his voice calling, ‘Anybody home?’

‘Walk in!’ called Lizzie.

And Harry did and received the full contents of the bag of flour all over him. As he cursed and coughed and spluttered, Lizzie ran swiftly upstairs.

Lady Beverley heard the commotion and came out of the parlour. She stopped short at the sight of Harry, covered in flour and stamping with rage.

She was so glad to see him, for she had feared the wedding would have to be cancelled, that she ignored the dreadful coarseness of his oaths and called on the servants to lead him in and brush him down. Jessica and her sisters came into the parlour and listened amazed as a still-irate Harry accused every one of them of having played a shabby trick on him.

Harry would have gone on complaining and accusing had he not been stopped short by the weary look on Jessica’s face. He gave a sudden smile. ‘I am a bear to rant so. There now. All is forgiven and forgotten.’ He turned to Jessica. ‘You must excuse my long absence. I had business in London, but I obtained the special licence and all is set for the wedding.’

Jessica did not look at him but nervously smoothed a cambric handkerchief out on her lap. ‘Come, girls,’ said Lady Beverley. ‘No, not you, Jessica. Mr Harry, you may have ten minutes to talk to Jessica alone. Lizzie! Come along. Why are you sitting there?’

‘All set for the wedding?’ asked Harry as soon as they were alone, thinking that Jessica did not look at all as beautiful as he had remembered her to be. Her skin was pale and her eyes were heavy, and her shoulders hunched as if to ward off a blow.

‘Yes, thank you.’

She stood up and rested one hand on the wood of the mantelpiece. He came up behind her and turned her round. ‘You are angry with me for staying away so long,’ he said, taking her in his arms. She turned her head away. ‘What about a kiss for poor Harry?’

‘We are not yet married.’

‘Don’t be missish. We soon will be.’ He seized her and forced his mouth down on hers. She struggled in his arms and he grew angry. His tongue forced its way between her lips, coarse and rough like the tongue of an animal.

He felt a sharp tug at his coat-tails and a shrill voice cried, ‘Stop that!’

He released Jessica abruptly and swung around. Lizzie was glaring up at him, her emerald eyes blazing. ‘She don’t like it.’

‘Get out of here, you saucy miss!’ raged Harry. He raised his hand to slap her, but Jessica caught his arm and said, ‘You had better go.’

‘I think this marriage might be a mistake.’ His eyes were blazing.

‘Perhaps it is,’ said Jessica quietly.

His anger left him. ‘Now, there, we have had our first quarrel, sweeting. I’ll be off, but I’ll send the carriage for you tomorrow. Mama is dying to see you.’

Jessica curtsied low.

Harry turned on his heel and left the room.

Jessica sat down suddenly, and Lizzie knelt at her feet and took Jessica’s cold hands in her own. ‘You put the bag of flour on the door, did you not?’ asked Jessica.

Lizzie nodded. And then she said, ‘Oh, Jessica, you must not marry such a man. I will never forgive myself if you do. Mannerling is not worth it.’

Jessica looked at her, amazed.

‘But, Lizzie, I am doing it for you, for the others!’

‘You must not.’

‘But think of the scandal if I cry off! Mama will go into a decline.’