Lord Chalford was in a good humour, and in a mood to be pleased. His daughter fulfilled his wish, rattling on about the expedition and how enjoyable it had been, and if he might wonder, at one point, if she had even seen a horse beyond the ones pulling the barouche, he did not make overmuch of the degree to which Lord Carbrooke figured in her narrative. His wife, who had indeed recovered enough to come down for dinner when reminded that the chef was preparing turbot, was more thoughtful than usual, and he anticipated her seeking him out once he had enjoyed his port in lonely state. He thought that Elizabeth should have had an excellent day, and indeed she did assure him that262this was so, and that Azor had proved a worthy winner, but thereafter she looked at her plate in the manner of one struggling, unsuccessfully, with the quarterly accounts. When the ladies withdrew he knew the urge to make a bolt to his club, thereby avoiding anything that smacked of a ‘scene’, but reluctantly admitted to himself that he had a duty as head of the house, and thus appeared in the drawing room whilst his lady was extolling the virtues of Lord Nuneaton in a half-hearted manner.
‘Good enough fellow, Nuneaton,’ he announced, adding his mite to the conversation, ‘though he can be a dull dog, and snores. You should hear him in the club after a good luncheon.’
Lady Chalford threw him a look indicative of disapprobation. It had been hard enough to sound enthusiastic after Lord Nuneaton’s performance at Epsom, but this was hardly likely to make Amelia think of him in a better light. She had consoled herself during her rest with the idea that Nuneaton might still offer for Amelia, and that if she could be prevailed upon to be obedient to her parents’ greater wisdom, she might accept him. This was a fiction born of desperation, as Amelia’s dinner conversation had shown, but she stuck resolutely to her plan.
Elizabeth let it flow over her. She could not think properly, yet needed to do so, desperately. It was a relief when the tea tray was brought in and she could shortly afterwards retire. Only lying in the dark, alone at last, could she give herself up entirely to the knots within her thoughts.
She had enjoyed her day, so very much. Had she enjoyed it simply because of the thrill of watching fleet thoroughbreds263and exciting finishes, or had most of that enjoyment been because Lucius Radstock had been at her side? Her cynical head told her that it was the former. Her treacherous heart, however, insisted that it was his particular being there that had transformed the expedition, and she was inclined to believe it.
So why had this man, with whom she had frequently argued, been accepted by her heart as, at the very least, a friend? She knew a deep-seated longing to trust him, and let herself give in at last to the part of her that said ‘love him’. Yet that was what she had done before, given in, loved, though her feelings for Henry Freshford had been far less intense, and the result had that time been desertion and heartbreak. She was no longer teetering on the edge, she knew it, and there was nothing to save her. Sleep, when it came, was interlaced with weird dreams of falling, and the wry smile of Lucius Radstock, which metamorphosed into a sneer.
264
CHAPTER TWENTY
Having spent a disrupted night, trying to work out how he would actually propose, and with so many versions revolving in his head that they eventually merged into gabble, Sir Lucius arose restless rather than rested, and at an unseasonably early hour. He therefore went for a ride, earlier than nearly everyone in the park other than a troop of the Life Guards. Riding cleared away the muzziness that fogged his brain, but did not, unfortunately, make the words fall into place. Chester’s ears flicked back as his rider tried various phrases, though none seemed right. The tone was soothing, and the bay at least seemed to appreciate them. After an hour and a half of exercise, Sir Lucius returned home, and took such care with his apparel and the tying of his neckcloth that anyone who had seen him might have thought he had suddenly decided to join the dandy set. Thankfully, his only audience was his valet, who was surprised, but knew that his master was, as he later265described it, coughing delicately, to the butler over a glass of port, ‘not quite himself’.
He made his way to Mount Street feeling peculiarly light-headed, only to be greeted with the information that his lordship had just departed on a two-day visit back to his estates in Sussex. Sir Lucius’s sense of disappointment was acute. Having worked himself up to taking the plunge, he was to kick his heels for two whole days, two days that would seem interminable. He went to his club, feeling distinctly ‘unclubbable’ and disinclined to socialise, and found himself a quiet corner with theMorning Post, behind which he hid. However, when he came to the Court and Social page and found the announcements of engagements, he tossed the paper aside and called for a bottle of claret.
It was two glasses later that Lord Godmanchester found his friend staring at the wall, and sat down in the neighbouring chair, in some concern.
‘Not like you, Lucius, to broach a bottle so early.’
‘Hmm.’ Sir Lucius was clearly not in loquacious mood.
‘Might I take a glass?’
‘Help yourself, Giles.’ Sir Lucius was still staring at the wall, and twiddling the stem of the glass, absentmindedly, between finger and thumb.
‘I have several like that in Brook Street, you know, and just as good.’
‘What? Bottles of claret?’ The frown at the wall deepened.
‘No, walls. If it is a wall you want to stare at, old fellow, come and stare at mine. No fear of some fool coming over and asking how you are, or whether you saw so-and-so in266Pall Mall wearing a dashed odd hat.’
Sir Lucius smiled, just a small, lopsided smile. ‘Sorry, Am I that obvious?’ He sighed. ‘I always thought myself a patient man, Giles, but it seems that I am not.’
‘Cryptic. Look, walk back to Brook Street with me, and if you feel like telling me what the deuce is up, all well and good, and if you prefer not to, I will promise not to not pry.’
He took his friend by the arm, and led him, unprotesting, up St James’s. It was only when sat in a comfortable chair in Lord Godmanchester’s book room that Sir Lucius unburdened himself.
‘Two days!’ he announced at the end. ‘What am I to do for two whole days? It was bad enough last night. I am surprised I did not choke myself by tying my tongue in knots as I tossed and turned. Tell me, Giles, was it this hard for you?’
‘Sorry, not quite, Lucius. I mean there was always the chance old Sir Marcus might send me to the right about, but the dibs were in tune, and I was never a here-and-thereian, so it was unlikely. I thought Helen was well disposed towards me, but nothing more. Mind you, I was head over heels about her, of course. The worst bit, to be frank, was after we tied the knot. You see, in a way she hardly knew me and there we were, you know, just the two of us. I was so afraid of, well, frightening her. Talk about shy! I do not know which of us was the more so.’
Sir Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again.Asking ‘What happened?’ was definitely not the thing.
‘In the end I decided honesty was the best policy. I sat267there in the bed, as upright as if receiving castor oil from Matron at school (remember those days?), and told her just what I felt about her, how much I longed to inspire such feelings in her, how all I wanted was to make her happy. And you know what she did?’ Giles Godmanchester shook his head, still mystified several years later.
‘Er, no.’ Half of Sir Lucius’s mind was dealing with the thought of being in the same bed as Elizabeth Ashling, and it was exceedingly distracting.
‘She burst into tears. Weirdest thing. Panicked me well and truly, it did. Then she said she was crying because what I said was beautiful and she was so happy. Never have quite got the hang of women and crying. And then it was sort of natural to put an arm about her to comfort her, and one thing, you know, led to another. It may seem a terribly hard thing to tackle just this minute, but I tell you what, Lucius, getting married was the best thing I ever did.’
‘I have no doubt of that, Giles, nor that it would be so for me, if only I had confidence she would say yes. I just donot know what I will do if she refuses me.’
‘But why should she, my dear friend? I can think of no possible reason why she should not be delighted to receive your offer.’
Unfortunately, there were two, and Lady Rendlesham had discovered both of them.
