The Regency (34 page)

‘No!'

‘
Then tell me,' he said, shaking her. 'Why must I have
nothing to do with James Morland?’

Mary tried to wrench herself away from him, and the
biting of his fingers hurt her, making her temper flare again. 'Because James Morland is your father!' she shouted. 'There,
are you satisfied now?’

He stared at her. 'I don't believe you,' he said. She only
glared at him, her mouth set, and his face slowly whitened. 'I
don't believe you! You're lying! I don't believe you!’

He released her arms, and she sighed, rubbing them slowly,
all the anger and excitement draining from her, leaving her
feeling tired and old. 'You're a fool,' she said. 'You would
meddle in what didn't concern you. I've protected you all my
life, but you would go courting that girl, when you could have
anyone, anyone! James Morland for a father-in-law! That's
what you wanted! Well now you know, and I hope you're
satisfied!’

He looked at her in slowly-dawning pain. 'You hate me,
too, don't you? What did I do, Mother? Did I ruin your life for
you, was that it? Is that why you're trying to stop me being
happy?'

‘
I don't hate you, John,' she said wearily. 'You're the only
person in my life I have ever loved, apart from Tom.'

‘
Then why are you telling me this lie about James Morland?
My father was John Skelwith. Your husband, for God's sake!'
sake!’

She turned away. 'Have it your own way. Marry who you
like. I don't care any more. Just don't bring that girl any
where near me. And don't ever mention the name of Morland
to me again.’

He watched her in disbelief as she walked towards the
door, expecting her every moment to turn back and speak to
him gently, apologise, take back the cruel, intolerable words.
But she didn't stop. Her hand was on the door-knob, she was leaving him without a look.

‘
I don't believe it!' he cried as she went out; but she didn't
look back.

*

He didn't remember afterwards exactly where he had been. When his mother left him, he ran downstairs and out of the house, through the alley to the stables in Grape Lane where
he kept his horse, saddled up, and rode away. He left York the
nearest way, through Bootham Bar, and rode across the
fields, galloped until poor Trooper was blown and sweaty; but
he had no clear recollection of where he had been. He only knew
that he came eventually to the track leading from Morland
Place to Twelvetrees, and there he halted Trooper, and
sat waiting. Eventually, even on a Sunday, he was sure James
Morland would come by. He didn't believe any day passed
without his visiting the stables.

In the end, it was not James, but Edward who found him as he returned from Twelvetrees. It was growing cold. The wind
had changed, and the sky was darkening with clouds that
foretold snow. The short day was closing, and Edward's mind was on home and a glowing fire and toasted muffins, and per
haps a game of chess with Mathilde, who was getting quite
good at it, since he had begun to teach her six weeks ago.

He was not best pleased, therefore, when Tiger, who was
trotting ahead, halted on the track and turned to look back at
him, drawing his attention to the solitary horseman. John
Skelwith, waiting for him! Edward thought crossly. He
supposed the wretched youth would be hoping for an invitation
to the house. Well, he could go on hoping! But as he drew
nearer, he could see that all was not well. Skelwith looked like
a man who had suffered a severe shock, and he was shaking
with the cold, inadequately dressed in what looked like the
same clothes he had worn to church that morning.

Edward was not usually quick at putting two and two
together, but as he halted before him, he couldn't help
remembering that Celia Masters was paying a rare visit home,
and feeling some foreboding.

‘
Hullo!' he said. 'What's the matter? You look as though
you're in trouble.’

John Skelwith looked at him like a man slowly waking up.
'Oh — it's you, sir. I — I've had a bit of a blow. The fact is —’

He stopped, and didn't seem to be able to go on.

‘
You're shivering with cold, man!' Edward said, glad of his
silence. 'You'd better get off home as quick as you can. It's
getting dark, and there'll be no moon tonight, by the look of
these clouds. I wouldn't be surprised if it snowed soon.'

‘
Home? No — no I can't,' Skelwith said dazedly. 'The fact
is, I've had words with my mother. Well, she told me some
thing —'

‘
Oh, I expect that will all have blown over by the time you get back,' Edward said, determinedly cheerful. 'Women have
their little moods you know, but they don't last long. She'll be
worried about you by now, glad to have you back in one
piece. You'll see.'

‘
No, you don't understand.' John was equally determined,
and Ned's heart sank. 'She told me something — something
incredible. I have to find out if it's true. I meant to ask — but
you've come along now. Sir, is it true —' He stopped again,
but Edward's wits were not quick enough to think of another
diversion. John began again. 'You see, sir, I told her that I was planning to marry Miss Nordubois —’

Edward drew a sharp breath. 'You've spoken to her? To
Mathilde, I mean? She's accepted you?’

Skelwith hadn't been expecting the question, and looked
distracted. 'What? Oh, no, I haven't declared myself, not yet.
It wouldn't be proper for me to ask her until I'd spoken to my
mother and her guardian. I know how these things should be
done, sir, I promise you. No, I thought I'd speak to Mother
first, and ask if I could present Miss Nordubois to her,
because she'd never met her —'

‘
Just a minute, young man,' Edward said drily. 'What
makes you think that Mathilde would welcome a proposal
from you? Don't you think you ought to have — ah — tested
the water first?’

Skelwith looked dumbfounded, working his way painfully
through the sequence of thoughts. ‘Do you mean — do you
think she wouldn't? I hadn't — I mean, she has always
seemed fond of me, and I —'

‘
I don't think Miss Nordubois has any thoughts of marriage
at the moment,' Edward said kindly. 'She's still very young,
you know.’

Had all this, then, been for nothing? John thought. 'Forgive me, sir, but are you in her confidence?'

‘
To an extent, yes. Enough to vouch for what I have just
said.'

‘
Oh God,' John said, putting his face in his hands. 'Oh
God.’

Edward looked at him with impatient sympathy, noticing
that Skelwith's horse looked foundered, and was shivering
too. 'You'd better get off home, young man, before that horse
of yours gets pneumonia.’

Skelwith lifted his head sharply, and the blood began to
run more swiftly under his skin. 'Home? No, I can't, not after
what Mother said. Not until I know the truth of it. I was
waiting here for your brother, sir, but I dare say you know all
there is to know.’

Edward braced himself for unpleasantness, but at that
instant John saw how utterly impossible it was to ask what he
had to ask. If it were not true, how dreadfully the question
would expose both him and his mother, shame them both for
ever. He could only ask if he were absolutely certain that it
was
true, and to admit to any third party that he was certain
of the truth of something so unbelievable and shocking as that
his mother had cuckolded his father, was something it would
shame him to do. What kind of a son would believe that of his mother? How would that make him appear?
He stared at Edward, his mouth working soundlessly, two
red spots of distress high on his cheekbones. He would have to
live forever with the doubt. He would have to live with his
mother, knowing that either she had committed adultery with
James Morland all those years ago, or that she hated him
enough to want to make him think she had. He would spend
his life wondering if it were true, wondering how many people
in York knew it, and looked at him behind his back with secret, pitying knowledge.

And then he met Edward's eyes, and saw his answer in
them, in the older man's fear of what he might be asked. The
moment extended itself, and Ned saw Skelwith's mouth turn
down bitterly, saw that he would not now ask the dreaded
question. In his relief, he felt warm towards the young man.

‘Go on home, John,' he said gently. 'You're worn out.’

Skelwith gathered his horse's reins, and the shattered
pieces of his life. 'You're right, sir,' he said with harsh dignity.
’I'm sorry I made a fool of myself. I hope you'll forgive me,
and forget anything I may have said.'

‘
I never saw you at all,' Edward assured him cheerfully.
‘Go on, before it gets completely dark.’

Skelwith turned and rode away across the field, and
Edward watched him a moment before setting off for home.
The danger was averted. What had that stupid woman said to
her son? Well, whatever it was, it looked as though it would
end his unwelcome visits to Morland Place. Mathilde might
be a little sorry to lose her most attentive beau, he considered;
but then, she had plenty of others. There was safety in
numbers. And she was so young, she oughtn't to be thinking
seriously of anyone yet. It might be years, he thought happily,
before she felt any serious desire to get married.

 
The snow came; winter set in, and was bitter. The temperature
went down and down, at first exhilarating, then frightening.
The Christmas season was interrupted by expeditions,
whenever the snow stopped falling, to find and dig out
trapped sheep, and to cut paths through to stables and stock-
shelters — work which called upon every able man, whatever
his rank, to help.

Héloïse did her best to make the season within doors cheer
ful, though she conducted the festivities from a sopha. The baby
was due in mid-January. She had got through her pregnancy
so far by the skin of her teeth, since that dreadful day
back in the summer when she had begun to bleed. She had expected and feared every moment that she would lose the
baby, but it was still there inside her, and still alive, and as
she passed into the ninth month, she began to feel the cautious
hope that it would be all right after all.