Alistair was waiting before midnight, unsure if she would come out but prepared to stay there for an hour or two all the same, just in case. This time, Cecilia came down the steps to him, cloaked and booted. ‘Let’s walk a little,’ she said. ‘I am restless tonight.’
He hoped she did not think that his interest in her was entirely sexual. But perhaps she had little reason so far to believe that it was not. ‘Gladly,’ he told her, following her down onto the shore and falling into step beside her. He was aware almost immediately that she was going slower than she might otherwise have done, out of consideration for him, but he did not comment on the fact. ‘I only came to enquire about the picnic. I’ve been worried about you – all of you. I have sought the reassurance that nothing could happen in broad daylight, with you forewarned, but I did not fully convince myself of the truth of it.’
She told him the tale of her adventures as they strolled together, and he was smiling by the end, though still not entirely untroubled. ‘I am delighted that you were able to direct the situation in a manner that gave you control of it, and I would have given much to see you in full spate, but at the same time, you should not be obliged to go to such lengths to make yourselves safe.’
‘Women have always had to do such things,’ she said soberly. ‘And I don’t suppose it always works. Our new wealth makes us targets, but we are protected – to some degree – by our standing in society, where other girls in the same situation would not be. That can’t be right.’
‘Of course it is not.’
They walked on a little in silence. After a while, Cecilia said musingly, ‘My brother-in-law, Allegra’s husband, is a politician, a leader of the party agitating for social change, and since she married him, my sister, who was once so awkward and unsure of herself, has become an influential political hostess. It is a shared passion for them. His family history is complicated, and it has given him a great hunger to see the world’s injustices addressed. The immediate battle is to bring down the rotten boroughs and give more men of middling rank the franchise, but he and Allegra believe that it should be extended to women too. I agree; how could I not? But even that would not help deal directly with men like Lord Pallant, would it?’
How wonderful it was to be alone with her in the darkness, saying exactly what they thought, not cooped up in some damn drawing room exchanging polite nonsense.
‘Not directly, and not overnight. But if society were to be reformed, root and branch, men like him would have less power. The near-universal habit of deference to the so-called Quality is to blame. If a farmer or a prosperous Debenbridge merchant tried to do one tenth of what he’s done over the last fifteen years, they’d find themselves in the pillory, if not in gaol. Even if matters never progressed so far as a charge of rape, life would be made impossible for them here, and they’d have to mend their ways or flee. His station in life is a pure fiction, and yet remarkably robust despite that. It’s not even as though he could bribe himself out of trouble, as richer men of rank so shamefully do, because by all accounts, he’s close on bankrupt. Cecilia, I would be delighted to set the world to rights with you, and walk all night doing so, but you do realise that they will call on you soon, to see if you are recovered? Indeed, they must, or show themselves deplorably uncivil, and be censured for it, by your family and everyone else who comes to hear of it. Especially, I am sorry to say, those who turn a blind eye to his other activities because he has a title. Tomorrow, probably, they will come, and inveigle themselves into your company again.’
She snorted. ‘Iwon’tbe recovered, I assure you, sir. I shall be in my chamber, unable to see visitors, with Bianca at my bedside. Bea and Miss Macintyre can receive them, and I hope their reception will be of such a nature that they will not stay long. But you’re right, it’s not a long-term solution. They will come back, and I will be obliged in the end to see him. I would very much like to tell Oliver Pallant what I think of him, and send him away forever. But I don’t think I can.’
Alistair sighed. ‘Nor can you keep throwing a fit of the vapours every time he approaches. I don’t know if anyone has spoken to you of it yet, but there is an assembly of sorts in Debenbridge. It is on the night of the full moon next week, to make the journey there and back easier for those of us who live outside the town. It is a traditional spring celebration, which everyone of all ranks generally attends. Even if you avoid him till then, he will be there, asking you to dance. Can you doubt it? You are in mourning; perhaps you can avoid him to some degree. But then you won’t be able to dance with anyone else either – any of you. How can one sister be in deep mourning and the others not?’
‘I did not know; thank you for telling me. Do you dance, Alistair?’
She said this last in carefully neutral tones, and even so, he might have returned some sharp answer just a few days ago. He had known her such a short while, and yet it seemed he was already changed by the knowing. ‘It is a long time indeed since I essayed it, for obvious reasons. I cannot promise to do so well or gracefully. But I should like to – if you would be my partner. Early in the evening, before the country dances grow riotous. It can be a wild sort of an affair, you know – most unlike the assemblies you may be used to.’
‘That sounds promising.’
Alistair thought that might have been a moment for him to say that nothing would please him better to take her aside on that evening and kiss her till the world whirled around them both. Or now, for that matter, here under the night sky with all its myriad stars. It was true. But his need to show her that he was not panting after her like some savage beast restrained him. She had described a most uncomfortable afternoon, in which she and her sisters had felt themselves under constant threat of unwelcome male advances, and been harshly reminded of the limits of their power, even now they were rich women. He could not bear that she might think he’d take advantage of her now, under the cover of sympathy. The last thing in the world he wished for was to be placed in the same category of man as Oliver Pallant. No, that was wrong – the last thing he wished for was to suspect, even for a moment, that he belonged there.
‘Shall we go back?’ he asked. ‘You’ve had a most trying day, it seems to me.’
‘Yes, thank you. I really have. I was amused, when we got home – pleased with myself, I suppose, at having tricked Lord Pallant and thwarted his schemes, at least temporarily. But afterwards, I felt a little… soiled. I wondered, and maybe it’s fanciful of me, how a village girl who had been taken advantage of by him would feel, if she saw us passing by with him in our fine new clothes, off on a careless expedition of pleasure. It would seem to her that her suffering was worth nothing and his actions had no consequences. And as far as I can see, they don’t. I’m not asking you to comfort me; there is no comfort for such a thought. But being out here has made me feel cleaner somehow. Probably I’m talking nonsense.’
‘Not at all. Never that. I too find being out on the sands at night can put my troubles in perspective. Look at the sky above us; how much significance do our brief lives really have, in the face of all that magnificence? What we do counts for little, and what we say for even less.’ It was something he’d felt before, and which had helped him in his lowest moments, when self-pity and useless regret had threatened to overwhelm him, but he wasn’t certain he was being entirely honest now. If he felt insignificant out here, she did not. Not to him. She had kissed him and made everything different.
They tipped back their heads and stood in silence, gazing up at the heavens above them. It was a clear night, and in the sections of the sky where the rising moon was not, the dark-blue velvet was embroidered with more brilliant points of light than it was possible to count. Nothing that man created could ever be as beautiful – not the jewels of a queen or empress. Cecilia’s hand came out and reached for his, and he held it in a firm grip. In that moment, he knew with blinding certainty that he loved her.
34
Bea found it impossible to sleep. She was still wide awake at a very late hour when she heard Cecilia creeping up the stairs and softly closing the door of her chamber. The old house creaked, and it was not possible to be entirely silent, however careful one was. These clandestine meetings with Major Bartrum seemed to be happening every night – but she was really in no position to judge.
She had looked forward to an afternoon in Vivienne’s company, even if it had always been doubtful that they might snatch any time alone, but the revelations about her brothers had tarnished that pleasure. She could not wish herself ignorant, because an uncomfortable truth was still a truth. And now she was forced to consider any number of unwelcome thoughts. To fear that she and her sisters might not be safe with the Pallant men was bad enough. To know that other women had not been safe in the past was worse. But what tormented her in particular was the suspicion of Vivienne’s complicity.
Once they’d arrived home, Cecilia had described her sense of disagreeable collusion; that the Pallant brothers had parcelled out Cecilia and Bianca slickly between them, each taking a sister as what she could only see as his chosen prey. This rang true with her; she had seen this division in operation this afternoon, and like her sister, could not doubt that it was the result of deliberate plotting.
Bianca too had agreed that that was what it had felt like. But Bianca probably thought that she, Beatrice, was irrelevant to all that, no doubt because she was the oldest, almost past marriageable age at six and twenty, and therefore seen as by far the poorest catch, despite still being an heiress. Bianca might even believe that Vivienne had been invited to the picnic to distract her, knowingly or not, to allow each of the brothers to charm their chosen sister uninterrupted, while making them feel safe in feminine company. But Ceciliaknewthat Vivienne had meant to seduce Bea, possibly from their very first meeting, and that she had essentially succeeded. Ceci had been too kind to take her apart privately and spell out all the horrible implications of that. But there was no need; she could work it out for herself.
Bea rose from her cosy bed, which didn’t feel quite so safe and comfortable tonight, and paced restlessly about her outer chamber. She had lain in that bed with Vivienne through a long afternoon and shared the greatest possible intimacy with her. It had been wonderful, or had seemed wonderful at the time. Afterwards, she had told herself with a warm glow that they had both recognised an irresistible attraction, and succumbed to it – a delightful surprise, when she had almost resigned herself to being alone forever. But now she questioned how genuine the connection had ever been on Vivienne’s part. Three siblings, all instantly struck by three sisters, who just happened to be heiresses. It was so obviously implausible as soon as one formulated the thought. Which posed the question: was Lord Pallant’s sister also complicit in their wicked plan? And had Bea been a naïve fool to let her succeed so easily?
Bea had sometimes thought that she could identify women like herself when she met them. Even if there was no instant attraction, there might be an assessing glance that lingered a second longer than was usual, a nod, a smile… And when therewasattraction, that would be magnified; there would be blushes, maybe a fleeting touch of the hands, and one wouldknow. This was obviously true, because the woman who had first opened her eyes to pleasure had known that she would not run away screaming and calling for the constable when she kissed her, and Vivienne had been sure of something similar when she had put her arm about her and so gently but so unmistakably begun to caress her. Damn her, damn her, damn her.
It was possible that this unconventional seduction could be a master stroke on His Lordship’s part. He would have to be ruthless beyond all normal measure to use his young sister so, but very well, say he was all that. Vivienne and Bea could not marry, there was no official way that her fortune could fall into their hands, but if the brothers won and wed Cecilia and Bianca, nobody would think it all strange if she and Vivienne lived together, with one or other couple or even on their own as spinsters and effective siblings. Such arrangements were seen every day and nobody thought them the least odd. And once that happened, once she was in the Pallants’ power too, there was no knowing what might happen to her and to her money. One thing was sure – she wouldn’t be marrying anyone else and passing control of it tohim. Which could only be highly convenient for the Pallants. For Lord Pallant, most of all, who appeared to control his younger siblings like two pretty puppets.
No wonder she couldn’t find any rest. To suspect all this was one thing. To have the least idea what she should do about it was quite another. If she confronted Vivienne with these disturbing thoughts, she wasn’t sure if she could believe any denial she might give, however indignant and tear-stained, and her brother would then be warned, and might perhaps be provoked to some drastic action, if he was indeed sufficiently impoverished and desperate. But if Miss Pallant was entirely innocent of any conspiracy, Bea would have destroyed by her own choice what lay between them, before there had even been a chance to see if it might develop into something more lasting. Opportunities for happiness were rare for everybody, it seemed to her, but much rarer for women of her kind. And she might never know, not for sure, what she had done. In either case, she’d be alone. And somehow, even though nothing would really have changed in her life, it would feel worse than it ever had before.
35
The Pallants did call the next day, all three of them; Mr Fisk was heard to mutter that their demmed horses were spending more time in the stables at Albery Hall than they were at home. Bea would have liked to make some excuse to draw Vivienne aside, perhaps to walk with her in the gardens and try to divine her mood and her intentions, but it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Macintyre and Bianca, she considered, to leave them alone with Lord Pallant and Sebastian. She could not blame Cecilia for fleeing to her chamber as soon as they’d heard hooves on the gravel; the idea of His Lordship bowing over her hand in false solicitude and asking her if she felt better today, as he devoutly hoped she did, turned them all sick.
With no invalid in the room for the visitors to fuss over, and Bianca shooting anxious glances at the door and saying every few minutes that she really should return to poor Cecilia’s side to see how she did, the visit was not a long one. They did mention the Debenbridge assembly next week, though, and expressed hopes to see the Misses Constantine there. Bea replied prudently that with all the worry over their sister’s health, they had not had time to think of such things.
