While Temia was awake all that night, occupying her mind with unwanted thoughts about Lord Alphonse, in London the Earl of Wentworth was feeling agitated.
“What the hell do you mean, we cannot enter?” he demanded at the stage door with his silver-topped cane in his hand. His tall frame was encased in a large black cloak and his silk hat made him seem even taller than his six feet. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but Mr. Baker was insistent – no gentlemen callers backstage tonight.”
“But my friend here is accompanying one of the young ladies to dinner,” he asserted, tapping his long cane impatiently on the pavement. “Leo knows us!”
“Sorry, my Lord. I’ve got me orders.”
The man shut the stage door abruptly, leaving him and Sir Thomas Babbington indignantly on the pavement.
“It’s no problem, I can see Gladys another night,” said Sir Thomas. “There was no need to make a fuss.”
The Earl sighed. It was not as if he was interested in any of the girls from Les Jolies Mademoiselles. Since he had broken off an engagement two years earlier, he had steered clear of any romantic interludes. True, a man had needs, but these were easily satisfied by a stream of willing, usually married, ladies he encountered at endless balls and house parties.
But, of late, even those had ceased to amuse him.
His last affaire du coeur had ended when the lady in question had returned repentant to her husband. On the other hand, Sir Thomas was an inveterate romancer of showgirls. It was one of his few vices that, unlike carousing or playing cards, the Earl did not share an enthusiasm for.
But Sir Thomas was a slave to a pretty ankle and a saucy wink and the actresses of London had provided him with many merry moments.
“I must break myself of this habit,” he murmured as they returned to their carriage. “I should settle down with a nice girl from a good family and produce a son and heir. It is what my father would have wanted.”
The Earl threw his head back and laughed.
“I would so like to meet the young lady who could tame you!” he cried. “No, I do believe that, in spite of your protestations, you are a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor! Shall we go instead to our Club, Thomas?”
“I suppose a brandy or two might help pass the time agreeably. Coachman! Take us to Whites.” The sleek black phaeton moved forward and soon they had left the lights of the Royal Kent Theatre behind.
*
Temia was right that Lord Alphonse was not a man to be easily deterred. The day following her rejection of him, a large box of flowers appeared at Bovendon Hall.
“Orchids!” sighed her Mama. “They are lovely.” “Funeral flowers,” countered Temia dismissively.
“But darling, these are not white. I have never seen such beautiful colours.”
Temia read the card that came with the orchids. “I shall not rest until you say you will be mine.”
The day was cold and the parlour maid had already lit the fire. Temia threw the card into the flames and then watched as it curled up and dissolved into cinders.
“Darling one, was that really necessary?”
Temia was still gazing at the flames. “Shall I ask Sarah to put them in your room?”
“No, Mama. If they have to be displayed, let them stay in the hall, so I will not have to look at them for long.”
Temia paced up and down by the window before, finally, hurling herself into an armchair. “Temia!” cried her mother. “I don’t think we paid all that money for you to go to Finishing School so you could throw yourself around like a stable boy! What if Ridley had been in the room?”
“Then he would have averted his eyes,” answered Temia sulkily.
But even removing the orchids from the room did nothing to soothe her foul temper. And when, that afternoon, a note arrived from Lord Alphonse saying he would be calling the next day, Temia was beside herself.
She ran out and took refuge in the stables, picking up a brush and grooming Lightning until his coat shone.
“Miss Temia, there be no need for you to do that, I was about to do it meself!” said Robert, as he came across her in Lightning’s stall.
“It’s no reflection on you,” she replied, burying her face in Lightning’s silky mane. “I wished to be out of the house.”
“Shall I saddle ’im up for you, miss?”
Temia brightened visibly.
“What a wonderful idea! I shall ride to the village and back. A change of scenery is what I need.”
The day was grey and overcast, but Temia did not pay any heed to the weather. She rode Lightning hard and fast along the road to the village and stopped to look at her brother’s memorial. The bronze relief of his likeness almost seemed to her like that of some other person and, as she stared at it, she could barely believe that Jasper was dead.
‘How different my life might have been, had he lived,’ she mused, touching the brass plaque affectionately before remounting Lightning. *
At breakfast the following day, Temia was given strict instructions from her father that if Lord Alphonse should call, she must receive him.
“Papa, if he asks me to marry him again, I will not say ‘yes’! Would you speak to him? Perhaps he would take my refusal more seriously if it came from you.”
Sir Arthur looked distinctly uneasy. Temia could see that he quite clearly did not wish to have any such conversation with Lord Alphonse.
“It may be difficult to broach the subject. There are outstanding matters I have to discuss with him first.”
“But you will at least say my mind is made up?”
Sir Arthur hesitated and appeared uncomfortable with doing that favour for Temia. She was far too used to him allowing her to have her own way and his reluctance quite shocked her.
“You must not upset him, dearest. If you must refuse him once again, say that you have no wish to marry anyone – and do try not to offend him,” added her Mama, anxiously.
“It’s true, I don’t wish to marry anyone. I have yet to meet a man who intrigues me enough for that. I want a man who is not showy and boastful – what would there be for me to discover about him otherwise?”
She then flounced out of the room. Lady Brandon waited until she judged that Temia was out of earshot and turned to her husband,
“You must tell her, Arthur. If she knows the real reason for you wanting to keep him on your side, perhaps she will at least be a little more pleasant to him.”
“Alice, I will not discuss my business or personal affairs with my daughter! Is it not enough that my wife knows I have made a damn fool of myself?”
“Then, you will only have yourself to blame if she inadvertently makes things worse.” *
But Temia’s father did not speak with her and so Lord Alphonse came calling the next day, as he promised.
And Temia again refused his proposal of marriage.
Sir Arthur was now in the awful position of having to explain in detail to Lord Alphonse why his daughter had not accepted him.
He took the clearly annoyed Lord into his library and brought out his best brandy, hoping to soothe him.
“She is young, Lord Alphonse, and she has no wish to marry yet awhile,” said Sir Arthur, handing him a glass.
“Your daughter is almost twenty-two and she will be an old maid if she persists in this foolishness. I intend to have her, Sir Arthur, and I would appreciate your help.”
“Temia is very strong-willed and I cannot make her do anything she does not wish to.”
Lord Alphonse looked at Sir Arthur with a distinct sneer on his face.
“I would not care to endure a tyrant in petticoats in my own home.”
“Then, Temia would most certainly not prove to be a satisfactory wife for you, Lord Alphonse,” answered Sir Arthur, hoping that would be an end to the matter.
“Ah,” he countered, with a supercilious smile, “but I believe she is waiting to be tamed. I have yet to meet the woman I could not bend to my will, if I choose to do so.”
He swigged at his brandy and laughed a low cruel laugh that made Sir Arthur feel quite ill. “Now, to business,” said Lord Alphonse, taking out his pocket book. “I believe you have some new stock that would interest me – ”
Outside the library, Temia had stood listening to their raised voices through the door. Although she could not hear exactly, she could guess the drift.
‘I hope that Papa has made it clear I don’t welcome Lord Alphonse’s wooing,’ she murmured to herself.
She was still feeling a little ruffled from having to refuse him yet again. This time he had tried to control his temper and had simply laughed when she had said ‘no’.
“A lady always refuses at first, otherwise she is not a lady,” he had said in an infuriating manner. “You will agree eventually.”
“I will not!” she had replied, her blue eyes flashing.
It was all she could do not to run out of the room and it was only the arrival of her father that had relieved the tension.
Temia then took the opportunity to excuse herself, ran upstairs and waited until they left the drawing room before making her way back down the stairs again.
And now she could hear raised voices no more and guessed that her father had opened his drinks cabinet where he kept his best brandy. ‘I hope he has not gone against what he promised he would say,’ she thought, suddenly panicking that the brandy meant a deal signed and sealed.
Just then, her Mama entered the hall and frowned.
“Listening at doorways? Really, Temia!”
“Mama, it’s not what you might think. Papa is in there with Lord Alphonse. I have refused him yet again.”
Lady Brandon sighed.
“He is a persistent man, I will grant you.”
“Mama, if I could have dealt with him myself, I would not have involved Papa.”
“Yes, I know, my dearest. Now come and let’s go into the drawing room, as it would not do for the servants to catch us behaving like this.”
“Servants?”
“Precisely. Do hurry now, it sounds as if they are finishing their discussions.”
Temia and her mother quickly went to the drawing room and they were about to sit down when Lord Alphonse appeared at the door.
“Miss Brandon, Lady Brandon. I am sorry I cannot linger any longer, but I have business to deal with. I will see you again soon – in fact, very soon, indeed!”
He bowed and then took his hat from Ridley. As Temia heard the front door close, she turned to her mother,
“What did he mean by that? Very soon indeed.”
“I really don’t know, dearest.”
Ridley now reappeared in the drawing room and his face wore a grave look. “My Lady, the Master asks for you in the library, if you could come at once.”
Ridley had no liking for Lord Alphonse, but would never have made his feelings known. He did not care for the way the man looked around The Hall as if he was about to assume ownership of it.
“Temia, I must leave you. I trust you will be dining with us this evening?”
“Yes, Mama. I have no other engagements. I had quite forgotten how very quiet life can be in the country.”
Lady Brandon’s heart sank, as she sensed that her summons to the library was to do with Lord Alphonse. It was fortunate that Temia was otherwise engaged when her mother finally emerged from the library over an hour later looking tearful and drawn.
She gave instructions to Ridley that she was not to be disturbed before dinner and then retired to her room.
She was dreading the evening because when Lord Alphonse had alluded to the fact that he would see them again very soon, it had not been an idle boast.
She did not know if she should warn Temia that he was coming to dinner this evening and that he would once more propose, but this time with her father’s blessing.
Temia had retired to the music room and spent the hours before dinner amusing herself by playing the piano. Her fingers flew across the keys in a lively Chopin piece and then Beethoven. She felt herself transported by the sadness of the Moonlight Sonata and even more so by his Adagio cantabile from his No. 8 in C minor.
Temia played fluidly with a refined elegance that had often been commented on when she was in Paris. She loved music and enjoyed playing the very fine grand piano that had once been her grandmother’s. She played as if she had not a care in the world, little realising that her nice comfortable life was soon to change dramatically.
*
“Miss, please keep still or else I’ll never get your hair right!”
Sarah was indignant that Temia appeared unable to stop moving her head while she was pulling her hair into an elaborate style.
At last she put the final pin in the back and Temia was ready.
“Very good, Sarah,” exclaimed Temia, admiring her reflection. It did not matter to her one jot that there was no one to impress with her fine looks apart from her parents – she had learned in Paris that one should always look one’s best at all times and in all places.
The gong sounded and she was now quite hungry as she had not eaten much at luncheon.
The blue satin of her gown matched the colour of her eyes perfectly and the sapphire brooch on her bosom added a pleasing touch.
Her Mama was already in the dining room when she entered and was in conversation with Ridley.
“Ah, Temia, dearest. Papa is keeping us waiting, I am afraid.”
“Where is he?”
“In the drawing room entertaining our guest.”
Temia looked startled. “I did not realise that we were expecting one,” she murmured, taking a seat. She was about to enquire as to who it might be, when her father came in to the room – with Lord Alphonse close behind him.
“Miss Brandon, may I say how delightful you look this evening?” he began, as his eyes raked up and down her frame like a hungry wolf eyeing its prey.
“Lord Alphonse,” she replied, stiffening a little. She stared at her father, who did not meet her eye.
‘So, this was Papa’s doing,’ she thought, feeling utterly betrayed as, far from discouraging Lord Alphonse’s attentions, he now sought to endorse them by inviting him to dine with them!
‘How could he?’ she fumed, feeling a lump rising in her throat. She was so upset it quite ruined her appetite.
Lord Alphonse sat next to her, staring at her all the way through dinner.
“You are not eating, Miss Brandon,” he remarked, as yet another full plate of food was taken away.
“I am feeling rather unwell,” she replied, as politely as she could. “Papa, might I retire?”
“I would prefer that you remain at the table until the meal is over, Temia,” he answered her sternly.
She had a terrible idea that after dinner she would have to endure another proposal from Lord Alphonse.
‘Why does Papa not pay attention to my wishes? He has never before attempted to push me into finding a husband and I have only just returned home – so why is he doing this?’
She managed to eat most of her apple tart and made her coffee last for as long as possible. Finally, her parents looking at each other in a knowing fashion, rose from their chairs and excused themselves.
“Temia,” said her father a little awkwardly. “We shall leave you two alone for a while and take our coffee into the drawing room.”
Before Temia could open her mouth to protest, they had both withdrawn and closed the door behind them.
She then heard Lord Alphonse cough to gain her attention and reluctantly, she turned to face him.
“Temia – I may call you that, may I not? I have asked you twice now to marry me and both times you have refused me. But this time, when I ask you, I want you to carefully consider your response.”
Taking a small box out of his pocket, he opened it to reveal a magnificent sapphire and diamond engagement ring.
Temia could not help but let out a gasp. It was lovely and a superb piece of craftsmanship. She knew at once that it must have cost a fortune and yet nothing would persuade her to sell herself for just a trinket.
Lord Alphonse then went down on one knee before her and took her left hand in his.
“Temia, I ask you once more, will you marry me?”
She could not take her eyes off the glittering ring he held in his fingers. Its beauty was so amazing and, from another man, she would have wept with joy to receive it.
She took a deep breath and shook her head firmly, “I am sorry, Lord Alphonse, but I have no wish to – marry.”
As her last words died away, Lord Alphonse’s face changed. A cruel gleam came into his eyes and he refused to let go of her hand, grasping her even more tightly.
“You are hurting me,” she cried trying to stay calm.
“And is that your final word?”
“I shall not change my mind,” she answered him, looking down at the floor.
In a gesture that took her breath away for its sheer brutality, Lord Alphonse rammed the ring onto her third finger and held it fast. Tears sprang into her eyes. “My dear,” he said in a voice like ice, “you have no choice in the matter. This afternoon your father agreed to our engagement and early wedding. It is all settled and you shall be my wife before the month is out.”
“No!” screamed Temia, wrenching her hand away and standing up. “Never! Papa would never agree to it.”
As she ran out of the room, she heard him laugh.
“Go, run to your Papa! He will tell you the same thing – that today he promised you to me.”
Temia then burst into the drawing room to find her Mama in tears by the fire and her Papa standing with his back to her by the window. There was a strained atmosphere in the room and she was shocked that her father was ignoring her Mama in such a cold manner.
“Papa? Is it true what Lord Alphonse says?” she screamed, trying to pull the tight ring off her finger.
“It is.”
“But how could you? You know I have no wish to marry him and yet you agreed? Why? Why?”
Lady Brandon looked up and dabbed her eyes.
“You must tell her now, Arthur. She deserves an explanation.”
Temia stared wildly at her father. She suddenly no longer recognised the once benign man she called her Papa since she could talk. This stranger who stood before her, so cold and unfeeling – he was not her father!
“Tell me what, Mama?”
Lady Brandon sobbed and Temia had never seen her mother display such naked emotion since the day they had received word of her brother’s death.
“Temia.” Her Papa cleared his throat awkwardly. “The reason I have agreed to this marriage is that Lord Alphonse has made it clear that unless it proceeds, he will reveal a rather unsavoury episode from my past.”
“He is attempting to blackmail you? Papa, whatever it is, can we not rise above it?”
Her father shook his head dejectedly.
“No. We cannot. You will marry Lord Alphonse.”
Temia drew herself up to her full height. How could she make her feelings known without appearing disrespectful to her father?
“So, you have agreed to hand me over like a mare to a stud?” she whispered, daring him to meet her gaze. “What is it, this secret that is so terrible that you would sacrifice the happiness of your only surviving child?”
Lady Brandon’s sobs rent the air. “Arthur, tell her!” she exhorted.
“Georgiana alluded to something when I saw her in London,” asserted Temia bravely. “I think I am now old enough to know the truth, however distasteful it might be. Perhaps then, I can begin to understand.”
Sir Arthur’s own eyes were clouded with tears, as he stared into the middle distance. His jaw worked and his mouth was thin and tight.
“Before I married your Mama – I was young and foolish. I was involved with a dancer and a child was born. Lord Alphonse discovered this secret and is threatening to ruin my reputation with it. He has been blackmailing me for months and taking horses from me without payment. “If he cannot have you, then he will ensure that we will have no place in polite Society and we shall have to sell up everything and move to Scotland or Ireland, where people will not know us. “Temia – I am too old to start my life – anew!”
His voice nearly broke on the last word and, almost collapsing, he sat down in a chair near the fire and took his wife’s hand.
Temia stared at her parents in horror. To think that the great family secret was this!
“And the child? Did he or she live?”
“I believe so, but the mother was paid off and I never saw her again.”
“So,” stammered Temia, the gravity of her situation sinking home. “I have a half-brother or sister out there? Would you have told me had this situation not arisen?”
Sir Arthur shook his head.
“Probably not, dearest. I don’t even know if she grew to adulthood.”
“She? I have a half-sister! And the mother?”
“We just don’t know where she is or if she is still alive,” interrupted Lady Brandon. “Temia, the only way to keep this dreadful matter secret is for you to marry him.”
“But I cannot!” she protested.
“For the love of God, Temia. If you honour me and love me as you should, you will!”
The tone in his voice was little short of desperate, but there was no mistaking his absolute determination.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Temia fled from the room and ran upstairs. Locking her bedroom door, she threw herself on the bed and sobbed into the pillows.
Her finger throbbed from the effort of trying to take off the dreaded ring, but the more she had pulled, the more her finger swelled, making it impossible to budge it.
‘I must be calm and I must think,’ she told herself, drying her tears on a handkerchief.
‘I would rather die than marry that man. It would not be such a bad thing if we moved away to Scotland – I would not care! At least we could be together as a family.’
But she knew that her Mama would not cope so far away from her friends and had her Papa not said that he could not face the prospect?
‘If I am to avoid marriage to that odious man, then there is only one course of action,’ she determined.
The two years she had spent in France had made her a very independent young woman and she did not fear being on her own and indeed positively thrived on it.
‘I am not too young to start anew,’ she sighed to herself, coming to a decision. And, so, if I remove myself from the equation, then surely Lord Alphonse will leave Papa alone? I could become a Governess and make my own way in the world. I could teach French and music – ’ The more she thought about it, the more viable it appeared to her.
‘I could stay in London with Georgiana and swear her to secrecy until I find a post. It should not be difficult. Perhaps I shall go abroad and as far away from that hateful man as possible.
‘Yes,’ she concluded at last. ‘If I simply disappear, then Lord Alphonse cannot force Papa’s hand. It would be best for everyone if I run away!’
With her mind made up, Temia then began to plot her escape from Bovendon Hall.
That very night!