There could not now be any question of the ball continuing, and shortly afterward the first carriage departed. It was followed by more and more, and out in the quadrangle the atmosphere was excited but subdued, the guests agog at what had happened but not liking to talk too openly about it while still at Polwithiel. As they entered the privacy of their carriages, however, they talked of nothing else.
Bryony stood at her window, watching the line of vehicles move away down the drive, their lamps picking out tendrils of sea mist which had begun to creep up from the estuary. The night was perceptibly cooler now and she knew that before dawn the mist would have cloaked everything, just as it had done on that other occasion.
She felt quite empty as she stood there, for she had finally realized that marrying Sebastian Sheringham was out of the question; she could not do it even for Liskillen. Seeing his intimacy with Petra had been so very painful that she had known it was a torture she couldn’t endure. Nor could she endure knowing that in spite of Felix’s confession, Sebastian believed her guilty of improper behavior at the ball. If he believed that, then what else might he believe? His doubt would be there, always it would be there.
Tears filled her eyes and she turned away from the window, glancing at Sally, who was once again waiting quietly with her cape and bonnet. The silver organdy gown, together with the laundered white silk, clear now of its red wine stains, hung in the wardrobe again. She wouldn’t take them with her, she wouldn’t keep anything he had given her. She would leave Polwithiel as she had arrived, taking nothing she had not brought with her from Liskillen.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She wore the sky-blue muslin dress, honey-colored cloak, and ribboned gypsy hat which she had had on when she arrived on board the Molly K. It was somehow fitting that she should wear these things now, when she was on the point of leaving again. She heard steps at the door and turned quickly, hoping that it was someone with word of the carriage she had asked for to take her to Falmouth. But as the door opened, her face became cold, for it was Petra.
Sally hastily withdrew to the dressing room, and Petra faced Bryony, her demeanor haughty and as cold as Bryony’s own. “I am sent by Sebastian to request you to come to Tremont with us now. He is refused entry to this house and cannot ask you in person. He awaits you in the quadrangle.”
“I will not come, my lady, nor do I intend to go on with the match.”
Petra’s lips parted in surprise. “May I ask why?”
“I don’t think you need to play the innocent anymore, for the victory is yours. I won’t give you the satisfaction of inflicting any more pain and humiliation on me, nor will I allow Sir Sebastian to make use of me for his own purposes.” She held herself proudly, but each word cut through her like a knife.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” cried Petra angrily, “but I do know that tonight Sebastian risked his life for you! And now, now, you decide to declare off! It would have been better, madam, had you done so earlier!”
“I did not seek what happened tonight, my lady, nor did I do anything to warrant all the things that have been said of me and which will undoubtedly continue to be said. Sir Sebastian challenged the duke because his pride demanded it. Had he really been intent upon defending my good name, he would not have changed his plans about the betrothal tonight.”
Petra stared at her. “He changed the plans? I could almost believe your air of injured innocence! Spare me any more of your acting, Miss St. Charles, for I will not demean myself or Sebastian by attempting to persuade you anymore.” She hesitated for a moment then, as if in spite of what she had said she did wish to say something more, but then she turned on her heel and walked out.
Bryony was trembling, struggling not to give in to the tears which pricked her eyes. She must be strong now, mustn’t show any of them how she really felt!
Someone gave a discreet cough behind her and she whirled about to see a footman standing there. “Madam, his grace desires your presence in the solar immediately.”
“Is he alone?” she asked quickly.
“No, madam, both her grace and the Lady Delphine are also there.”
She relaxed a little. “Very well.”
She followed him through the almost silent house which earlier had rung to the sound of music and laughter. Her courage almost deserted her as they reached the solar doors, and she took a deep breath as the footman opened them and announced her name.
The duchess sat in her wheelchair, her face still pale and shaken, but her old spirit gleamed in her eyes when she saw Bryony, whom she now hated more than ever. Delphine sat quietly on a nearby chair, her hands clasped in her lap, the folds of her golden silk skirts spilling richly to the floor. She did not look up as Bryony was announced.
Felix stood by the fireplace. Like his mother, he had recovered quite considerably since last Bryony had seen him. His glance swept scornfully over her, his lip curling a little at the plain clothes she wore. “So, the provincial Miss St. Charles is back among us.”
“You wished to speak with me, sir?”
“Yes. Partly to inform you that of course the confession wrung from me under duress will now be denied.”
“That is little more than I would expect of you, sirrah,” she replied.
He gave a cold laugh. “A woman scorned, my dear?”
“A woman wise, my lord.”
“Drawing-room repartee? What a pity it will not now be needed.”
“Please say what else you have to say, sir, and then allow me to leave this house.”
“Very well. I’m told that you have asked for a carriage to take you to Falmouth.”
“That is correct.”
“No doubt you wish now that you had never left Liskillen, for by your failure you have made certain that it will be forfeit, haven’t you?”
“Please get to the point, sir.”
“I’ve issued orders that a carriage is to be waiting for you within the hour, but the coachman will be given instructions to convey you to Tremont, and nowhere else.”
Delphine leaped to her feet immediately. “No! Felix, you cannot!”
“Sit down, Delphine, for this no longer has anything to do with you.” He glanced at Bryony again. “I note that the thought of Tremont does not appeal to you, Miss St. Charles. What a shame. No doubt you have as little desire to go there as they have to receive you, in spite of my cousin’s so noble efforts to persuade you to depart with them. Well, he saw fit to call me out because of you, even though he obviously believed a great deal of what I said. Now he can have you, and the ridicule that will go with you.”
Oh, how she despised him. “His will not be the ridicule, my lord duke, for you have full claim to that. You did not cut a gallant figure when he defeated you tonight, indeed you looked quite the wretch.”
His lips were white with fury, but he controlled the urge to cross to her and strike her. He turned away. “My mind is made up, word has already been sent after them that they are to expect you. Go now, Miss St. Charles. I trust that we will never see each other again.”
“I trust the very same, sir,” she replied. There was nothing more to be said, and she withdrew from the solar, but as she made her way back toward her apartment for the last time, she heard Delphine hurrying behind her.
“Bryony! Wait, please!”
“What is it?”
“Please don’t go like this.” There were tears in Delphine’s eyes. “I know that I’ve been disagreeable, but I can’t bear to part from you in this way.” She hesitated. “You really don’t want to go to Tremont, do you?”
“No, but it seems that I have no choice in the matter.”
“Maybe I could help.”
“How?”
“Well, I would tell the coachman that Felix has changed his mind and that his instructions are now that you are to be conveyed to Falmouth.”
Hope leaped into Bryony’s heart. “You would do that?”
“Yes. But, Bryony ... ?”
“Yes?”
“It really wouldn’t be very wise to go all the way to Falmouth in the dark. The moors can be quite dangerous. It would be safer if you lodged overnight at the Royal Charles and then proceeded in the morning. Felix wouldn’t know, he will think you safe at Tremont, and the coachman will not question such a stop, for all the servants know what happened tonight and why you are being sent away from here. I will speak to the coachman, but you must promise me that you will stay at the Royal Charles tonight and go on to Falmouth tomorrow. Will you promise?”
Slowly Bryony nodded. “Very well, I promise.”
Delphine smiled then. “Good, for I should have worried so about you. I’ll miss you, Bryony, I’ve really enjoyed your company. I’m only sorry that you and Sebastian were so ill-matched.”
Bryony suddenly hugged her. “I shall miss you too, Delphine. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”
“You’ve nothing to thank me for, Bryony. Nothing at all.”
They parted then, and half an hour later the carriage was waiting in the quadrangle and two footmen were carrying Bryony’s luggage out to it. When all was loaded, Bryony and Sally left the apartment and descended the grand staircase for the last time. At the bottom, Bryony turned anxiously to the maid. “You are certain you still wish to come to Liskillen?”
“I want to be with you, Miss Bryony.”
“Life will not be easy there. The estate is badly in debt and I do not know what will become of us.”
“It makes no difference to me. There’s nothing for me here now.”
“What of Tom Penmarrion?”
The maid’s eyes filled with easy tears, but she blinked them away, “Maybe I should ask you: what of Sir Sebastian?”
Bryony said nothing more and they proceeded out into the quadrangle. As they appeared, the coachman climbed down to speak to them, and Bryony heard Sally’s smothered gasp of dismay, for it was none other than Tom Penmarrion himself. He was an immensely tall, broad-shouldered young man, his large figure clad in a box coat against the chill of the sea mist. He removed his hat politely. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am?”
Bryony halted. “Yes?”
“Lady Delphine says I am to convey you to the Royal Charles tonight, and then take you to Falmouth tomorrow morning.”
“That is correct.”
“Beggin’ your pardon again, ma’am, but may I be so bold as to inquire if Miss Anderson will be going with you?’’
Bryony glanced at Sally’s pale, unhappy face. “Perhaps you had better ask her yourself,” she replied, getting into the carriage, ‘‘but please do not be long, for I wish to be gone from here as quickly as possible.”
She sat back in the dark carriage, listening to the whispered voices outside. She heard Sally’s tearful voice and then the maid was climbing in to join her. Tom closed the door on them and then climbed up to his box. A moment later the carriage drew swiftly away, its lamps barely piercing the gloom.
Neither Bryony nor Sally glanced out; both sat in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts. The team’s hooves sounded rhythmic and the wheels crunched on the gravel drive, and it was Sally who bowed her head, giving in to sudden tears. Bryony went to sit beside her, her arm gentle about her shoulders, but she did not weep. She was beyond weeping now.