‘
I have no idea what you are talking about,' Fanny said
with dignity. 'And now, if you will excuse me, I must return
to the dance. I am engaged to stand up with Lord Somercott
for the next set.’
He snapped out of his reverie, and caught her hand, lifting
it to his lips and kissing each finger separately. Fanny tried to
release herself, but finding his grip too strong, let him have
his way, feeling it would be too undignified to struggle. She
glared at him in cold fury, hoping to disguise the mad fluttering
of her senses at the warm touch of his lips and the brush
of his moustache on her fingers.
‘
Lord Somercott? No, no,' he said between kisses. 'Too
commonplace by far. You shall not dance with him, my dear
Miss Morland. In fact, I have a distinct urge to make sure
that you never dance with anyone but me, ever again!'
‘You are impudent! Let me go!' she protested.
‘
But how shall I do that?' he went on as if she had not spoken.
He separated the middle finger of her right hand and laid its
tip against his lips. 'How to make sure of you? I could take
you away, lock you up somewhere, and keep the key in my
breast.' He smiled at her as if it were a joke, but the gleam of his eyes under the droop of his eyelids made her doubt that it
was. 'But no, that would not do, would it? For though I kept
your body, I would not have your heart, would I?'
‘
You would have nothing! How dare you speak to me like
that!' she panted.
‘
No — and I would have everything, Miss Morland,' he
said, looking into her eyes. Fanny felt ready to faint, hardly able to hold his gaze. Then there was a sound as of someone coming out from the ballroom, and in an instant Hawker had whirled her round, placing her hand perfectly correctly over
his as if he were just about to lead her in to the dance. The
gentleman who came out looked at them curiously, but if he
noticed Fanny's high colour, he might have attributed it to
the exertions of the afternoon.
‘
I think I hear the music beginning, ma'am,' Hawker said
in a pleasant, normal voice. 'I believe this is our dance?’
She was as yet unable to speak, and went with him rather
than attempt to argue further. Lord Somercott, searching for her a moment later, was more annoyed than surprised to see
her standing in the set with another man.
‘
Who's that dancing with Fanny Morland?' he demanded
of Sir Henry Hope, who was standing beside him.
‘
No idea,' said Sir Henry. 'There's an awful lot of people
here who weren't invited. Heard Lady Aylesbury complainin'
about it just now.' He examined the newcomer. 'Military
fellow, by the look of him. Handsome, too. Often thought I
might grow some whiskers — the ladies seem to like 'em,'
‘
He looks like an outsider to me,' Somercott said savagely.
‘Like a damned butcher's dog.’
*
It was late when Major Wiske returned from headquarters,
and the wedding celebrations were so plainly over at the
house in Grosvenor Square that he hesitated for a moment
about knocking. But when the doorkeeper opened to him, he said that her ladyship had left a message to say she was still
up in her private sitting-room, and that if the Major called
he was to go straight up.
The sitting-room was on the second floor, a small room
adjoining Lucy's bedchamber, whose decorations of snuff and
dark blue and rather heavy furniture suggested it had been a
gentleman's dressing-room at some point in its life. Wiske scratched at the door and went in, to find Lucy sitting in a
large leather chair by the fire, staring at the flames and
brooding.
‘
I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner,' he apologised. 'Bathurst
was there. Could hardly come away.'
‘
It doesn't matter,' she said absently, and waved her hand
to a seat. 'There's wine on the table. You might pour some for
me, too.’
Did everything go off well?' he asked, handing her her
glass. 'I'm sorry I missed the dancing. I was looking forward
to standing up with you.'
‘
Hmm,' she said, her eyes still on the flames, and giving
her a sympathetic look, he took his seat and remained silent,
sipping the wine and waiting for her to come back to him.
At last she drew a profound sigh. 'I've been trying to make
sense of it all,' she said.
‘All what?'
‘My life.'
‘Oh,' he said. That seemed a daunting prospect.
‘
Seeing Minnie driving off in the carriage, with her bags
strapped on behind, made me think of my own wedding. I
was even younger than her, though of course I'd seen anddone more. But the point is —' she paused.
‘Hmm?' he prompted helpfully.
Lucy frowned. 'The point is, I married Chetwyn so that she
could be born, that's all. And now she's married Sale so that
— well, some other child can be born. And I don't understand
any of it.' She looked up and met his eyes with a puzzled
expression. 'What's happening to me, Danby? I never used to
wonder about things. I never used to think about things at all.
I just got on and did things and enjoyed them. Why am I like
this now? I don't like it.'
‘
We're all changing,' he said. 'The world is changing.' He
smiled. 'Mostly, I think, we're just getting older.'
‘
That's no help,' she said, and he saw the focus of her eyes
change. 'Have you had your orders?' she asked abruptly.
‘Yes,' he said. 'I've been recalled. I must leave the day after tomorrow.’
He saw her face set, and seem to age. He hadn't expected
her to look so upset; and despite the flattering aspect of it for
him, he felt he would have preferred her not to care, and be
happy. He slipped from his chair and knelt in front of her,
taking her cold hands and chafing them.
‘Oh Lucy, my dear, don't look like that!'
‘
I
was always having to say goodbye to Weston, too,' she
said in a small voice. 'The last time he left, he said that when
he came home again, it would be for good.' She moved her
head, a tired gesture, like one seeking ease. 'Of course, as it
turned out, he was right.'
‘
But I will come back, I promise you,' he said urgently.
‘How can you promise that?' she said. 'It's not in your
power to promise that.’
He felt helpless. 'The war won't last for ever. It can't last
much longer.'
‘
We thought that after Trafalgar — seven long years ago. I
was only thirteen years old when the war began, Danby. My
children have never known a time of peace. Maybe it will go
on for ever. Maybe it will go on until we're all dead.’
He looked at her urgently. 'Lucy, Lucy, don't . All I can
say is that I love you, and I've always loved you. You're the
light of life to me. I've got to go away, but I will come back.
Please, please won't you marry me? Marry me tomorrow,
before I go away.’
She gave him a tired smile. 'Tomorrow? Don't be silly.'
‘
I mean it,' he said. 'I can get a special licence. I love you,
Lucy! What's the point of waiting any longer?’
She put her hands up and cupped his face, which was on a level with hers. 'How could I follow my own daughter up the
aisle so closely? It would be ridiculous.'
‘
We'll keep it a secret,' he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. Touching her roused all his senses, and made it
difficult for him to think. 'Oh God, I want to kiss you!'
‘
Kiss me then,' she said simply, and drew his face towards
her. It made him feel strangely excited, to be held like that by
her strong hands, to have her take the initiative. She kissed
him as though she were the man, parting his lips with her
tongue, probing for his. He pulled back while he still could.
‘Marry me tomorrow,' he pleaded desperately.
She shook her head, but she was smiling, and her eyes were
bright; then she glanced towards the door which led into her
bedchamber.
marry you tonight instead,' she said.
Everything suddenly seemed very still, as though the world
were holding its breath. 'Are you sure?' he whispered at last.
‘
Yes, I'm sure. Life is too uncertain. I realise that now. I
don't want to miss anything.’
She stood up and held out her hand to him, and helped
him up, and then led him to the door. His mind revolved with
worries about the consequences of this rashness, what the
servants would think, how he was going to shave in the
morning; until his rejoicing body, singing with anticipation,
finally managed to silence it.
*
The house seemed suddenly very quiet with Minnie and Polly
gone, and Major Wiske overseas again. Most of the families
were still in the country, and in the absence of sufficient callers
or engagements to keep her mind occupied, Lucy decided
to go down to Wolvercote to refresh herself with country air, quiet, and plenty of riding until the start of the Little Season.
Fanny was fretful at having to leave London, but when chal
lenged by Lucy to say what she feared she would be missing,
she had nothing to say.
Once settled in at Wolvercote, however, Fanny found that
it was very pleasant after all, and she and Lucy went for long
rides together, and almost came to like each other. Each of
them loved horses, and respected good horsemanship more
than anything in the world, so there was sufficient ground for
mutual admiration to spring up. With no gentlemen to
impress, Fanny behaved in a natural, unstrained way, and
they discussed horses, dogs and country matters quite pleasantly; and Parslow even suggested that Miss Morland might
like to try Feather over a few jumps.
‘
She's going very nicely now, Miss,' he said. 'I think her
ladyship will be wanting to take her out this season and shew
her to hounds.’
Lucy's spirits revived so completely that in the second week
of their stay, she arranged a cross-country race for fun, pitting
herself against Fanny, Rosamund, Roland and Thomas, and putting up a prize of a guinea which she was quite
determined to forfeit. Miss Trotton was particularly glad on Roland's behalf that he was to be allowed to join in the fun.
She had been worried about him for some time, for she felt
that his tutor, Mr Mansell, was too harsh and strict for the boy, and gave him too little liberty to run about and play.
Roland was small for his age, and rather pale and quiet, and
Miss Trotton feared that too harsh a regime might stunt the
boy's growth as it had already cowed his spirit.