Reckless Griselda (26 page)

“What on earth are you saying, Grizzy?”

But there was no time to answer. The door opened and Manton announced the arrival of Mr Randall.

“I think our young newly-weds must open the dancing, do you not think, my dear Duke?” said the Duchess of Renfrew. “What could be more charming?”

Well, Tom thought, if one must be turned into public entertainment, it might as well be by a Duchess. He was trying to make light of his qualms. He was certain the Duchess meant to make serious mischief – Will had told them at dinner that all the talk was how his mother and the Duchess had quarrelled.

But on taking Griselda’s hand and leading her to the head of the set, he felt angry, seeing how pale she was. Although she had said nothing, it was clear she was unused to such great assemblies as this one at Renfrew House. And such a crush it was – four over-decorated, over-heated rooms full of leering, vulgarly-dressed fools with nothing better to do with their lives than feast on other people’s mistakes and misfortunes, he thought. The sooner they could get away from town the better. He hoped she would not take to the life there, and looking at her now, he felt that she would not. Even if she was the most striking thing in the room. She had the Duke of Renfrew ogling her like an unpractised schoolboy. But he knew that this world was not to her taste, and it was one of the things that made him admire her all the more.

“A reel, Lady Thorpe?” the Duke asked Griselda. “To honour our native country?” She nodded gracefully and then made her curtsey to Tom as the music began.

It was a pleasure to dance with her again, even if the circumstances were less enjoyable than that inpromptu ball in the saloon at Priorscote. Here, she was faultlessly elegant and accomplished, but natural too. There was no dancing master polish about it. She danced well because she carried herself well and because the music affected her. The colour returned to her cheeks as the set progressed and her smile widened into real pleasure as she turned, her silver and black skirts catching the light like a salmon’s back. She had forgotten herself, just as she had forgotten herself in the drawing room before dinner – and perhaps found herself again.

And then the dance finished and she was a little breathless and red cheeked, as she took his arm and walked with him down the room for the next set.

“I don’t know how you can not expect me to be kind to you,” he said as they took their places, “when you are the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Then I wish I was not,” she said.

“I was never very good at riddles,” he said, determined not to be needled by her. He would nudge her gently out of her strangeness, he decided. She was just like a horse who would not take a fence. It was no good forcing her to do it. Kindness and persuasion, and civility would do the trick. She would come to him in the end.

“I am not talking in riddles,” she said. “I meant what I said. Please, do not.”

He would have answered but the music began again. Another vigorous country dance and there was no chance of talking for any of them.

***

After standing up for the first two dances with Thorpe, Griselda found herself carried off by the Duke. He took her arm and, holding it a little more closely than was perhaps necessary, led her about the rooms presenting so many people to her that Griselda was left with only a dizzy impression of names and faces. She felt like a bear being led round the crowd in a country market place and wondered if the Duke would not soon give her a gold collar and a chain to keep her confined in his courtyard.

From the corner of her eye she could see Sir Thomas making a circuit of his own. He was much spoken to, but she sensed that he was deeply uncomfortable with the affair. When he bowed to someone, it was done so stiffly that there was scarcely any deference in it.

And then of course they had to dance again – though not with each other. The Duke insisted on two sets with her, during which he got rather out of breath. He declared he must sit down and have some wine, and would she join him? He took both her hands, and kissed them in a manner that suggested he would like to do a great deal more. Panicking, Griselda glanced around her for an excuse to slip away, hoping to catch Thorpe’s eye. But he was nowhere to be seen and she realised she could hardly expect him to rescue her after what she had said to him. But then why did he seem so necessary? Was it perhaps that he was the only person in the room that she could imagine having a rational conversation with?

Instead she saw Hugh. He was leaning on his stick, on the fringes of the crowd, but not looking the least bit awkward for all that he was alone. He saw her but did not smile. Instead he gave her a stern, curt sort of nod that was as sharp as a hoar frost.

“You must excuse me, your Grace,” she said. “There is someone I must speak to.”

“Well, come back soon, Lady Thorpe, or I shall die of a broken heart,” said the Duke, and dismissed her with a pat on the backside which made her feel sick.

She threaded her way through the crowd to where she had seen Hugh. But he had vanished. But the door to another room was open a chink, and she looked in to see if he were there.

He was. He had his back to her and was staring at the contents of a glazed cabinet and did not turn as she came in. He must have seen her reflection in the glass.

“Griselda,” he said.

“Hugh.”

“This must be the famous Renfrew Cabinet of Curiosities,” he said. “What a place for this conversation. Among the branches of coral and a mummified cat.”

He turned from the cabinet and sat down on a bench, looking her over.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “I’m not a curiosity.”

“To all those people out there you are.”

“But not to you.”

“I can’t pretend to understand you any more, so perhaps you are.”

“You are harsh to me,” she said. “I know what I have done, and I take my share of blame. But you are so harsh.”

“She is miserable, Griselda. If you had seen her – oh, I almost cannot bear it.“

“You are in love with her!” she said after a pause. “Aren’t you?”

“That’s not the issue here.”

“I think it is,” Griselda said. “I have told you I am sorry, but you take this very personally. You always did admire her.”

“Whether or not I love her does not matter,” he said. “What matters is what she feels – and that she has been hurt by this. That makes me very angry.”

“And I’m not angry?” Griselda retorted. “Can’t you for a minute think how it is for me? I am married to him. I am married to this man whom I can never trust.”

“Then you ought not to have married him,” said Hugh.

“I had no choice.”

“I don’t believe that. One always has a choice. Even in the most difficult situations there is always a chance, if one has enough courage, to do what is right. I had never thought that you lacked courage, Griselda.”

“It took courage to marry him, believe me.”

“It was wrong – and you know it. Why else would you be complaining to me like this?”

“Perhaps it is better he married me and not Caroline,” said Griselda. “At least I know what I am dealing with. And you have Caroline – yes, you have her to yourself now,” she went on sitting down beside him and trying to take his hand, but he would not let her. “And you must marry Caroline. You are the only person who can put her right. I am sure of it.”

“She would not look at me in that way.”

“Now who lacks courage?” said Griselda.

After a moment, he reached for her hand and said,

“I do love her. That I cannot deny. But it is a hopeless condition. She will have Thorpe or no-one, and since he has been taken, she will suffer alone. That is her decision and I must learn to live with that.”

“Have you asked her?” Griselda said.

“You have no delicacy,” said Hugh. “How can I ask her in these circumstances? For heaven’s sake,” and he pushed away her hand. “We are not all impetuous fools, Griselda.”

“I will speak to her then,” said Griselda, getting up. He grabbed her arm and made her sit again.

“You will do no such thing,” he said. “You have caused enough trouble as it is. Can you imagine anything worse, anything more insulting to her than to have you tell her such things? She is in love with your husband. Don’t ever let yourself forget that!”

***

The rooms had suddenly thinned out as everyone went for supper, and Tom, looking for Griselda, saw Caroline instead, standing alone in the corner of the room. He knew he had to speak to her – that he would be a coward if he did not.

He saw his chance and made his way across the room. She saw him coming and was about to move away. He stretched his arm out and gently touched her on the forearm to stop her.

“Miss Rufford, a word, a moment, if I may.”

She flushed with agitation, a startled bird in a trap, glancing around her, looking for a means to escape.

“My brother will not be pleased if he finds you talking to me.”

“I know, I know, I quite understand. Please?” He took away his hand.

“I really should not.”

“I know I have hurt you.”

“And I will be hurt again if I speak to you.”

“That is not my intention. Please, Miss Rufford.”

“I think of you and it pains me, Sir Thomas. Seeing you only pains me more. I would rather not prolong this conversation.”

“Please let me speak, if only for a moment.”

“I hope you have not come to ask for forgiveness. If you have I am not ready to give it.”

“No, no, I could not expect that of you. I only wanted to know how you were. I heard you were ill.”

“I am quite well thank you,” she said. He did not believe her. She looked pale.

“I cannot tell you how deeply I regret that this has happened.”

“But you married my cousin. When you spoke first to me of your affections, I sensed real sincerity, and yet…”

“I was sincere. Believe me – ”

“Believe you? How can I? When you allowed it to happen? How sincere could your feeling for me have been?”

“A man may love in many ways,” Tom managed to say after a moment.

“And yet a woman only loves once and that must be enough for her?” Caroline retorted. “If a woman behaved with such licence, you would despise her.”

“Do you despise me?”

“No, but I no longer respect you, Sir Thomas. And as for love, whatever that may be, I do not know. Perhaps you can tell me?”

Tom could not answer.

“You have a wife now,” Caroline went on. “She should be your first object in all things. She is a fine person. You ought not to have used her as you did.”

“You are good to think of her, when you have suffered.”

“I still have my reputation,” Caroline said. “You have taken that from her. She trusted you, as I did, and as Lady Mary may well have done. Who knows how many women you have trifled with, Thomas Thorpe?” She turned sharply away, her defiant manner dissolving into a more transparent look of pain than he could bear.

“Caroline, please…” he said taking her hands to draw her back. “Oh Caro, please forgive me.” He bent his head over her hands and kissed them.

“Sir Thomas, if you please,” she said, pulling away her hands. “You are a married man. What’s done is done. Please leave me in peace or I shall be obliged to call for my brother. Spare me a scene.”

He let go of her hands and watched her cross the room. At the doorway to the next room he noticed Colonel Farquarson was standing watch, as if on guard duty, so stiff was he with evident displeasure. She took his arm as soon as it was offered and then for one moment turned back towards Tom, her slender form wrapped in folds of pale green silk as gracefully as a dancing figure on a Greek frieze. But there was no nymph-like serenity on her face.

“I would like to go, if that does not inconvenience you?” Griselda said.

“No, not in the least. I’ll have them bring the carriage for us.”

Tom had found her in the tail-end of the supper crowd. She looked quite wretched – as wretched as he felt, so hard on the heels of that awful conversation with Caroline. “I have no wish at all to stay. Here, take my arm.”

“I can manage, thank you.”

They went down the great staircase together. Only footmen waited in the hall, as the guests upstairs all settled down to hear a famous Italian soprano singing the latest arias.

“Wait here, it will not be a moment.”

“I will walk out to it,” she said, going straight to the door. “It will be much easier for Andrew.”

The courtyard was full of carriages and stamping horses, with drivers huddled under their many-layered capes, smoking their pipes and gossiping in corners, their faces turned into grotesques by the torch lights. Griselda, who would not be stopped, crossed the cobbled yard that fronted Renfrew House, almost as if she meant to walk straight out onto the street. Tom had to run behind to catch her, stripping of his coat as he did so.