Chapter Ten

 

Theodore Farleigh, unlike his more somnolent companion, Harry Blaine, was an early riser. To exercise his mare in Hyde Park of a morning was his common practice. Although the more fashionable promenade took place in the late afternoon, a number of acquaintances were to be found braving the chilly April morning.

Theo had enjoyed several interchanges already when he heard himself hailed by a familiar female voice. Looking across the way, he saw an open carriage coming abreast of him, and in the fashionably dressed woman within he at once recognised Sothern’s mistress.

‘Good day to you, Lady Maud,’ he called, intending to pass on. But, to his surprise, she beckoned. He urged his horse across the carriageway, wondering if she was going to ask him when Sothern would be returning. Not having seen him since the wedding, he would be unable to tell her.

But Lady Matilda was apparently uninterested in Jake’s whereabouts. She conversed on commonplace topics for a moment or two, and Farleigh expected her then to move on, for there was a sharp wind blowing and she was obliged to hold her fashionable wide-brimmed and feathered hat for fear of its being snatched away. Mystified, he talked on. Then she introduced the subject occupying her mind.

‘By the way, Farleigh, what has happened to that delightful child Lady Staplegrove introduced, do you know? She brought the girl with her to the Waldemar’s rout, as I recall.’

‘Clementina?’ Theo asked unguardedly.

‘Is that her name?’

‘Yes. Clementina Hythe—or rather—I mean, yes, Hythe.’ Just in time he recalled his promise of silence on the matter of Clementina’s recent change of name.

‘Hythe?’ repeated Lady Maud musingly, giving no sign that she had noticed Theo’s hesitation. ‘I think I have not heard the name. One of these northern families, perhaps?’

‘Norfolk, actually. Though she has lately resided in Sussex with the Henlows—er—with an uncle.’

‘Her parents are dead, then, I take it?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Poor child,’ sighed Maud. ‘So sad, at that age.’

‘Yes, she has had an unhappy time of it,’ agreed Theo, his mind on the past few days.

‘I rather expected to see her going about with Lady Staplegrove, but she seems to have vanished.’ And Maud tinkled with soft laughter.

‘She is—er—she was—’ Theo broke off, reddening uncomfortably as he realised that he could say nothing to the purpose. Belatedly, he had taken in that Lady Matilda was showing an uncommon interest in a girl with whom she was unacquainted. He was no fool, and he realised at once that he had been skilfully pumped for information.

Her persistence in spite of the inclement weather was now explained. He had little liking for Lady Matilda, tolerating her only for Sothern’s sake. Circumstances had altered, however. He did not think he was courting any danger now in having a little of his own back. Accordingly, he bestowed upon her a smile as false as her own.

‘I am afraid I cannot answer you, Lady Maud. But you will doubtless obtain all the latest news of Miss Hythe if you care to call upon Lady Staplegrove.’ Tipping his hat, Farleigh bowed and spurred his horse onward.

Lady Matilda might rage inwardly at the studied provocation of his last remark, for there was naturally no possibility of her calling upon the dowager, but she had gleaned enough to increase her suspicions to fever pitch.

There was indeed something between Jake and that wretched Hythe girl, just as she had suspected. And Farleigh knew all about it. Blaine, too, doubtless. For a few moments she toyed with the idea of sounding out Sir Harry. Regretfully she rejected it. Blaine would be even more openly offensive than Farleigh if he realised what she was at, and for all he flirted with her she knew he had no serious tendre. What was more, Blaine would tell Jake. No, she could not risk it.

What else had she learned? Not much, she acknowledged regretfully. Then she recalled one of Theo’s slips. Clementina had lately resided in Sussex with—now what was the name? Merrow? Henley? Or was it Henlow? Yes, Henlow. The name rang a vague bell. That must be why it had registered.

Casting about in her mind, she ran rapidly through her acquaintance. All at once she got it: a fair young man with startling good looks. She had engineered an introduction at—where was it? Heavens yes, Lady Waldemar’s! It all fitted.

The picture formed in her mind—the girl, Clementina, staring, ready to faint. The young man, Henlow, equally astonished. She had seen it all, for she had kept her eye close on Sothern once she had learned that the girl was a guest of Lady Staplegrove’s. She had been uneasy from the first. And with good reason, it now appeared.

There was a mystery here, in which Sothern was undoubtedly mixed up. It behoved her to cultivate the young man, Henlow, a necessity to which she was in no way averse. He really had been a devastating creature. Now who was it who had introduced him?

* * *

 

Clementina was engaged at the breakfast table in a futile attempt to convince her hostess that she would do better to stay quite out of Society’s eyes.

‘For how will it look, ma’am, if I appear with you now, when once the secret of my marriage is out?’

‘That is just what I have been trying to explain, silly child,’ the dowager told her in exasperated tones, placing the coffee-pot down on the table with something of a snap.

‘If you imagine that Jake will pretend to fall madly in love with me, all for Society’s benefit, I am afraid you are doomed to disappointment,’ Clementina said shrewdly, sipping her coffee. ‘In all honesty, ma’am, can you see him making such a spectacle of himself?’

Lady Staplegrove snorted as she spread apricot preserve on her bread with a lavish hand. ‘He did so over Maud Ingleby. He may very well do so over you.’

‘I thank you, ma’am, I have no desire to be singled out in that fashion.’

‘Tush, you are as pig-headed as Sothern himself. I have had occasion to say so before this. I did not mean that, and you know it.’

Clementina heaved a heavy sigh, and added another lump of sugar to her coffee. ‘I am sorry to disoblige you, ma’am.’

‘My dear child, it is not I you are disobliging, but yourself. Can you not see that tongues will wag cruelly otherwise?’

‘I had rather they wagged against me than in favour of an insipid, romantical fairy-tale which does not even have the merit of being likely,’ Clementina declared roundly, stirring her cup with furious energy.

Lady Staplegrove gave it up. ‘Very well, I have done my best. Don’t blame me when the tabbies cut you.’

Clementina laid down her spoon, put out her hand, and warmly clasped the dowager’s fingers.

‘Dear ma’am, you know very well that none would dare cut me when I make my appearance under your aegis.’

Her hostess acknowledged the truth of this with a brief, reluctant smile. For a moment she ate in silence.

‘What, then, do you intend?’ she asked at length.

‘To keep out of sight.’

‘I see. For how long?’

‘Forever, if need be.’

‘Highly practical,’ snorted her ladyship. ‘Have a little sense, Clementina, do.’

‘Don’t press me, ma’am, not yet.’ She sighed again, and picked up her sweetened cup of coffee. ‘I suppose I must talk to Jake. I dare say we may come to some amicable arrangement.’

‘You cannot end it, Clementina.’

‘It is too late for that, I know. But, if we must inhabit the same house, go about in Society, perhaps we can agree terms that are mutually acceptable. We need not see a great deal of each other, after all, and—and Jake at least has other interests.’

There was much that the dowager might have said in repudiation of the bleak prospect thus outlined, but wisely she chose to hold her tongue. There was little likelihood, she reflected, of either one of this volatile couple settling down in such bloodless companionship. She passed over a platter of bread and butter.

‘Eat something, child. And think about all I have said. You may change your mind.’

At first Clementina had no notion of doing anything of the kind. But as the day wore on, bringing no sign of Jake, she began to feel restless. Her long sleep had refreshed her, although she still regarded the union with a jaundiced eye. But she was no longer the quivering bundle of yesterday, still weak from the after-effects of the drug and the excitements she had undergone. Feeling much more like her usual self, and having decided to discuss the situation sensibly with her new husband, she wanted, characteristically, to be up and doing.

When Jake put in no appearance she was initially piqued. But at his continued absence she grew incensed. The very least he could have done was to send a note if he did not mean to call. Besides, he ought to have called. Common courtesy demanded it.

By evening Clementina was so irate that she resolved, after all, to gratify the dowager and accompany her to the theatre. What was more, she would go as Miss Hythe. And his lordship, for all she cared, might go to the devil.

Thus it was that Lord Sothern, having spent the day in sulky determination to let her new young ladyship know that he did not care a fig for her outrageous conduct, saw from his position in the pit both his grandmother and his wife enter Lady Staplegrove’s box at Drury Lane.

So began the ridiculous farce, he thought savagely. Well, if either expected him to portray the nauseous role of moonstruck lover, they had better think again.

But Sir Harry Blaine, who had accompanied him here, was nudging him in the ribs.

‘Better bring me up to date, old fellow. Am I to keep mum, or do I address the lady as she’s entitled?’

Sothern’s eyes were on Clementina as she made sure that the dowager was comfortable before settling into her own chair. He noted, with quite irrational annoyance, that she had chosen to wear an exceptionally pretty gown of a strong green more suited to a married woman than the young debutante she was supposedly portraying.

‘Stay put and you won’t have to address her at all,’ he told Blaine shortly.

‘By God, man, what do you take me for? Wouldn’t be guilty of such discourtesy for any money. Of course I must pay my respects.’

Jake swore under his breath. ‘Hythe then, if you must. My grandmother is engaged on some idiotic charade to avert a scandal.’

‘Very sensible,’ approved Sir Harry. ‘Just what one would expect.’ He began to move away, and looked back. ‘You coming, Jake?’

About to refuse, the earl caught his friend’s eye. Harry was clearly expecting him to go too. An excuse would make him seem churlish, and perhaps give rise to speculation in Blaine’s mind. However he felt, it would be most improper to permit his friend to become aware of his marital difficulties.

Accordingly, both gentlemen were very soon knocking on the door of Lady Staplegrove’s box. Some friends of her ladyship’s had arrived before them, and the small box was already full. The dowager was the first to notice her grandson’s entry.

‘Good evening, Sothern,’ she said pleasantly.

A slight emphasis on the time of day and a lift of her expressive brows gave Jake to understand that his absence that day had displeased her. He caught the faint gasp that escaped his wife’s lips, and, having greeted his grandmother, leaned forward to peer over the shoulders of the two ladies who obscured his view of her. He was accorded one brief glimpse of those green eyes as Clementina sought and found his face. Then she pointedly turned to speak to the lady on her other side. Thereafter her profile was all he was permitted to gaze upon.

Although to all outward appearances Clementina was calm, her heart hammered uncomfortably in her breast. At the unexpected sound of Jake’s voice it had jerked violently and, not trusting herself to speak, she had elected to ignore his lordship instead.

Not to be outdone in the matter of incivility, Jake passed over the claims of anyone present to his attention, and his glance raked the boxes on the other side of the house. In one of them he saw his mistress. She was looking straight at him. Their eyes met. She smiled and beckoned. Jake nodded. Then he turned to his grandmother.

‘Forgive me, ma’am. I came only to pay my respects.’ He bowed, and then glanced at Clementina. ‘Your servant, Miss Hythe.’

For all her apparent unconcern, Clementina had been covertly watching her husband, and was thus an indignant witness to his silent exchange with Maud. How dared he insult her so? Even if their marriage was secret, he had no right to acknowledge his mistress while in his wife’s company.

At his naming her, she turned her head, allowing her eyes to rake the length of his body and come to rest upon his face. The whole gesture was intended to be eloquent of contempt, and Clementina was satisfied to see his cheeks darken.

‘Oh, are you leaving us already?’ she said, in a voice devoid of interest. ‘What a pity. Goodnight, Lord Sothern.’ Then she turned away.

Jake abruptly left the box, aware of his grandmother’s amused smile and the eager curiosity on the faces of her guests. Sir Harry, having made his own farewells, caught him up in the corridor.

‘I say, old fellow, what the devil was all that about?’

‘That,’ Sothern grated, quite forgetting his earlier concern at the impropriety of discussing his marital problems with Blaine, ‘was a sample of my wife’s company manners.’

‘Can’t say I blame her,’ said his friend frankly. ‘Couldn’t expect her to take it when you flaunt your indiscretions in her face, you know.’

‘I would not have done so had she not treated me to a display of blatant incivility.’

‘Six of one and half a dozen of the other, if you ask me.’

‘I don’t ask you!’

‘No need to snap my nose off, old fellow. You knew what she was when you married the girl. Showed us what she was made of that very first night.’

Jake did not reply. Harry was right, he knew, well aware that he had brought his own discomfiture on himself. The knowledge did not make him any the less furious, however. It was therefore in a mood of seething resentment that he entered Lady Matilda Ingleby’s box. While he responded to her delighted greeting, he could not forbear casting surreptitious glances at his grandmother’s box opposite.

The action of the farce was beginning on stage, and the visitors were leaving. He could see that his bride and Lady Staplegrove had their heads together. Doubtless they were discussing him, and not in any kindly spirit, he dared swear. Hell and the devil, but the whole affair was intolerable.

‘Miss Hythe is recovered, I see,’ remarked Lady Maud in his ear. ‘Does she stay long in company with your grandmother?’

If the interchange between himself and Clementina had angered him, it galled him even more to hear her referred to as Miss Hythe. Especially by his mistress, on whose lips, he decided suddenly, Clementina’s name was a profanity. Sudden remorse hit him. What the devil was he doing here? Harry was right. He had offered his wife an unspeakable insult.

He looked at Lady Matilda, and the dark eyes smouldered. His voice was even, but deadly.

‘I don’t ever want to hear you speak of her again. You are unworthy to mention her name. And, God help me, while I am with you, so am I!’

So saying, he rose from his seat and left her.

Rigid with wrath, Lady Maud resolved to have her revenge. The means, she was convinced, would shortly be in her power. Her hand reached into her reticule and fingered the note she had received in response to her message to young Ellis Henlow.

* * *

 

Having opened the front door to his mistress and her young guest, Dorridge coughed discreetly. Lady Staplegrove paused in her way to the stairs, and turned to look at him, brows raised.

‘You have something to tell me, Dorridge?’

The butler bowed. ‘His lordship, my lady,’ he said apologetically. ‘I did venture to suggest that the hour was too far advanced for a visit, my lady, but his lordship—’

‘His lordship,’ said a voice from the doorway of the pink parlour, ‘insisted on waiting for you.’

‘Sothern!’ The dowager swung round to stare at her grandson. ‘What a start you gave me. What are you doing here at such an hour?’

‘I am here,’ asserted Jake, coming forward into the light, ‘to see my wife.’

His eyes were on Clementina as he spoke. She was standing stock still in the middle of the hall, her pose rigid.

‘Oh, Sothern, you fool,’ uttered Lady Staplegrove in exasperated accents.

‘I fail to understand what is so foolish in wanting to speak with my bride.’

‘I am not talking of that,’ said his grandmother scoffingly, ‘but if you mean to speak so openly we shall be quite undone.’ She glanced significantly at the butler.

‘Dorridge will keep his mouth shut, never fear,’ insisted Jake cheerfully. ‘Eh, Dorridge?’

‘I beg your lordship’s pardon,’ said the butler with stately dignity, ‘but I fear I am growing rather deaf.’

‘Admirable, Dorridge, admirable. You hear, Grandmama?’

‘There is nothing wrong with my hearing,’ replied her ladyship tartly. ‘I don’t need you to assure me of my butler’s discretion. Yours is what concerns me.’

She nodded to Dorridge, who discreetly withdrew.

‘Now then, Sothern, it is late, and we are tired. Say what you have to say, and go.’

Clementina made a move to go to her, but Jake stepped forward and grasped her wrist.

‘No, you don’t. I came for a word with you, and I am going to have it.’

‘Let me go at once,’ Clementina cried, tugging against his hold.

‘In a moment,’ Jake said, and led her willy-nilly to the pink parlour.

‘Really, Sothern,’ protested his grandmother, moving to intercept him. ‘Your conduct goes from bad to worse. Let her go!’

‘Grandmama, if you please,’ Jake said politely, and put her gently aside.

He then drew Clementina into the parlour and firmly closed the door in Lady Staplegrove’s face. Then he let go of his wife’s wrist, and leaned against the door.

‘Quite like old times,’ he commented, smiling a little, ‘only I trust you will not resort to a candlestick on this occasion?’

There was no answering smile from Clementina. She moved slowly to the centre of the parlour, and turned to face him, hugging her taffeta cloak about her as if for protection.

‘Well, sir?’

Jake regarded her dumbly. He had lit candles in the wall-sconces, and there were branches on both the mantelpiece and the side-table. Candlelight played over her features, and touched the red in her hair to streaks of fire.

‘You are exceedingly beautiful,’ he said softly.

Clementina’s lip trembled, and her heart began to beat an irregular tattoo. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and swallowed on a dry throat. Then she remembered how he had behaved at the theatre.

‘I must suppose,’ she began as evenly as she could, ‘that you did not drag me in here to listen to empty compliments?’

Jake frowned. ‘Empty?’

‘You forget. I know what constitutes your idea of beauty. It is as unlike me as it is possible to be.’

‘Quite unlike,’ he agreed. ‘But a man may admire more than one type of beauty.’

‘May he indeed?’ said Clementina in a trembling tone. ‘And desire to possess it, too, I dare say.’

He took a step towards her. ‘Clementina, you don’t understand.’

She backed away. ‘Oh, yes, I understand only too well. Let us have done with pretence and veiled remarks.’

‘By all means,’ Jake said swiftly. ‘You are angry, and I don’t blame you.’

‘Generous!’

‘Please let me speak. What I did tonight was abhorrent and I know it. I am come to beg your forgiveness.’

Clementina bit her lip. She looked away. ‘Very well.’

Jake made a move towards her, and she turned quickly and held up a hand.

‘You are absolved,’ she said, low-voiced, ‘for acknowledging your mistress in my presence. But that does not mean that you are at liberty to—to touch me.’

Jake flinched back as if she had slapped him. His eyes glittered. ‘I think you had better explain that remark.’

‘Do I need to?’

‘As I have not the remotest conjecture what it means, I think you do, yes.’

‘I had not thought you obtuse. However, since you will have it in plain words—’

‘Plain words will be most welcome.’

‘In plain words then, your wife has no intention, my lord Sothern, of sharing your favours with your mistress!’

Jake’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is that an ultimatum?’

‘It is a simple statement of fact.’

His lip curled. ‘You have an odd idea of marriage.’

Clementina tossed her head. ‘Oh, you need not think I don’t know what is expected of me in this situation. A gently bred girl pretends to know nothing of her husband’s amatory adventures.’

‘A gently bred girl does not wander the streets in men’s clothing, either,’ he returned dryly.

‘There you are, then.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake! We are married. For how long do you think you can hold out against me? You are merely using Maud as an excuse.’

Clementina breathed deeply once or twice. ‘Let us get one thing clear, my lord. This marriage was foisted upon me. If you wanted a complaisant wife you should have chosen elsewhere. As for your amatory adventures, I know I have no power to change your accustomed way of life. Indeed, I—I have no desire to do so. You may go your way. But do me the courtesy to remain aloof from me, for I cannot and will not be humiliated so.’

A smile glimmered on his lordship’s lips, but it was not reflected in his eyes.

‘And what of my heirs?’

‘There will be none. You should have thought of that before you acted with such quixotic impetuosity.’

‘Quixotic impetuosity? A fine phrase; and a fine speech.’

He walked forward until he stood close enough to reach out and cup her chin, forcing her to look at him. He spoke softly, his tone a caress.

‘Words, Clementina, mere words. You know as well as I that if I choose to claim my rights you will not fight me.’

She stared up at him, her eyes defiant. But her lip trembled.

‘You—you won’t force me, I know.’

‘I won’t have to. I have not forgotten how you responded to me yesterday morning.’

‘I did not respond!’

His eyebrow lifted. ‘Oh? Then how is it that I felt with you even as I might with some Covent Garden jade?’

Eyes blazing, Clementina wrenched away, and her hand came up to slap his cheek, hard.

‘You little fiend!’

‘How dare you?’ she cried throbbingly. ‘How dare you say such a thing of me? Get away! Get out of my sight! I never want to see you again as long as I live!’

‘Certainly I shall go,’ Jake said, eyes snapping. ‘But permit me to recommend that you try for some self-command, you little termagant.’

‘Go away!’

‘Your passions are quite uncontrolled, my child—in bed or out!’

‘Get out, get out, I hate you!’ raged Clementina and, looking about her, she snatched a small ornament from the mantelpiece and threw it at him, missing by inches.

‘Ye gods!’

Jake made for the door as he saw her reaching for another. As he closed the door behind him, with more haste than grace, he heard something shatter against it.

‘To hell with the little shrew,’ he uttered furiously, and with swift steps he crossed to the front door and opened it. He hesitated, listening, but there was only silence from the pink parlour.

‘Hell and the devil confound her,’ he swore. ‘No, I won’t go back.’

He stepped outside and firmly shut the front door behind him. Then he was down the steps and walking away into the night, quite failing to notice the coach drawn up a little way down the street.

Inside it, one of its occupants watched him out of sight.