Page 35

‘That’s good to know,’ Angelica murmured quietly, then started another fit of coughing. Elinor sprang forward and grabbed the linen handkerchief on the table beside the bed to offer to her. The girl was gazing at her earnestly. When Angelica was settled again she said shyly, ‘Miss Leigh, do you think that there are some people who know what is best for other people?’

‘Very seldom do others know what is best for us.’

‘Well, I think I know that Lady Linus is not good for my papa.’

The words were so emphatic, Angelica opened her eyes to meet the angry blue ones, pricked with tears. She put out a hand to take the girl’s in hers. ‘I’m sure your papa knows what is good for him, and for you.’

‘No he doesn’t. He works so hard, he doesn’t have time to think. And my Aunt Arlington keeps on telling him I need a mother. Well, I don’t!’ She stamped her foot in exasperation. ‘I have Papa and Miss Stafford. I don’t want Lady Snooty Fox poking her nose into our life.’

‘He may be lonely and may find Lady Linus congenial company,’ Angelica said, pausing for breath as she spoke. ‘He may even care for her.’ Her voice died away.

‘I know he doesn’t. He loved Mama who was sweet and warm. How can he love someone so cold?’ Elinor’s expression was anguished. She noticed Angelica’s pale face and was suddenly apologetic. ‘Oh, Miss Leigh, you’re not well enough to hear my complaints. I’m sorry. I should go.’

Angelica squeezed her hand. ‘It will all work out, I’m sure.’

‘But I do know what’s good for people, Miss Leigh.’ Her blue eyes, so like her father’s, met Angelica’s with defiance. ‘I think Miss Stafford should marry Mr Digby. She loves him, you know.’ She dropped her head and then muttered, ‘And I really hope you marry my cousin, Charlie, and then you’ll be a duchess when my horrid Aunt Arlington dies.’

‘Miss Elinor! You shouldn’t speak so of your aunt, you know.’

‘I don’t see why not. She’s so interfering and she doesn’t care for me, so why should I care for her? Why does someone good like Mama die when the horridest people still live?’ Her mulish expression changed to one of mischief. ‘I’d so like it if you were part of my family. Please will you marry Lord Latimer?’

Angelica was overwhelmed with fatigue but did not want to dismiss the child and her fears. ‘Lord Latimer hasn’t asked me to marry him.’ She took a breath. ‘I think it may be just a passing fancy.’

‘You see, Miss Leigh, you think you know better than he does!’ The girl giggled with a sense of triumph.

Angelica managed a small smile. ‘Perhaps we suffer from the same pretensions?’ She longed for rest and suggested Elinor could run an errand. ‘Before you go back to your books, could you ask Mary if she can bring me some broth?’ She sank back on her pillows. ‘I’m feeling quite hungry.’

‘Of course.’ Elinor Asprey turned at the door. ‘I know Lord Latimer is coming to see how you are this morning.’ She left giving Angelica a cheeky smile over her shoulder.

6

THE PRODIGAL’S GIFTS

After the alarums of the night, Angelica recovered more quickly than the doctor expected. Carefully nursed by Mary and Miss Stafford, she was soon recuperating downstairs. She spent the mornings in bed and the afternoons reading in Mr Asprey’s library, a time when he was at the House of Commons and so would not be put out by her presence. After a few days of this regimen she was strong enough to receive Lord Latimer and Isobel Fitzjames. They had arrived at the appointed hour of three and were shown by Goodall into the small sitting room at the front of the house. Here a fire burned, keeping the room unnaturally warm. Still weak and pale, Angelica sat on the sofa looking ethereal in a sprigged lilac gown with a primrose yellow spencer which made her red-gold hair all the more striking.

Charles Latimer entered the room in a rush, his face flushed with emotion. Taking her hand, he pressed it fervently. ‘Oh, Miss Leigh, thank God! I have been out of my mind with worry about you.’ He brought her hand to his lips before sitting beside her on the sofa. ‘Been haunted by Mrs Asprey’s fate and determined it would not be yours.’

Isobel Asprey settled on Angelica’s other side, slipping her arm through hers. ‘Lord Latimer and I came each day to enquire about your health. Mr Brunner, your mother’s man, has also been here on the same mission. This house was so hushed it was alarming. What a mercy to see you so recovered.’ Her delicate face, usually veiled with sorrow as befitted a gothic heroine, was bright and no longer seemed burdened with care.

Lord Latimer too, seemed light-hearted and relieved. ‘I was afraid if you had stayed under the authority of your mother’s physician I might never see you again.’

Angelica turned to them and said, ‘I have to thank you for my renewed health. Your persuasive powers, Lord Latimer, brought me here and your uncle and Miss Stafford have practised this new treatment with great effect. My back must be bruised but my lungs are much better. I can both breathe and talk!’

‘I think we need to celebrate.’ Lord Latimer had sprung up and was pacing the floor. ‘I have an exciting suggestion to put to you. Will you be properly restored in three weeks’ time?’ His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

‘I should hope so. I’m already learning my lines for the next play.’ Angelica lifted the manuscript of The Child of Nature from the floor, her part underlined in wavy pen.

His voice dropped conspiratorially. ‘Mama has organised a ball to celebrate my coming of age. She’s asked to use Uncle Ivor’s house on the river at Hampton as it’s closer to London than ours.’

Angelica looked at him askance. ‘There’s no possibility you can escort me to that, Lord Latimer.’

‘Aha! But there is. I’ve told Mama I want a masquerade ball. So no one will know it’s you. Miss Fitzjames has already decided to go as Columbine so I thought I could be Harlequin.’

‘And I suppose you think I should be Pierrot?’ Angelica laughed. ‘It’s far too dangerous, my lord! Also I would be impersonating a male character in trousers. If I was found out, scandal would be heaped upon scandal.’

‘No, no. I thought you could be the Faery Queen. If you powder your hair the colour would not give you away. And of course you’ll be wearing a mask. No one would know it was you. Please come, Miss Leigh. There’s no joy unless you’re there.’

Angelica leant back on the sofa, suddenly overtaken with fatigue. ‘As I feel at the moment, my heart quails. But when the time comes I may well be strong enough. But how will you explain this Faery Queen to your eagle-eyed mama?’