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‘No one can make this decision for you, Lucie. Like you, I love Val and his father too. But you know how I want what is best for you. And from my experience, that would involve a different kind of love from the brotherly love that Val can offer.’ Lucie hung her head. Sybella sat down beside her and took her in her arms. Very quietly, she added, ‘I also don’t want you fearful at what could happen to him, that if he follows his true inclinations, he might have to go into exile abroad.’
‘Oh, no! I couldn’t bear that. To lose him, or to go with him and lose you.’
Sybella smoothed her sister’s golden curls off her forehead. ‘With all these balls and soirées you’ve been to, have you met anyone else you’d prefer as a husband?’ Lucie was silent. Her sister looked closely at her. A tear was making its way slowly down her cheek. ‘What is it, dearest?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m just so confused, Bella.’
‘It sometimes helps to bring fresh air to your thoughts. Can you tell me?’
She hesitated and then said almost inaudibly, ‘It’s Freddie. Now that I’m engaged, he’s renewed his courtship of Cleome. I like her since she came to tea and we got to know her better. She thinks I’ve made the match of the Season and so cannot know that I care about Freddie at all. And of course his guardian really wants this match.’
Sybella felt an irrational anger against Mr Brabazon. All her frustration at her own inability to protect her beloved sister from pain was focused on him and his presumption that he always knew best. How dare he interfere in the lives of others? She could not bear to let his wishes thwart her sister’s happiness. ‘Is it Freddie whom you love?’
‘I don’t know. But I love being with him as much as I do with Val. But it’s different. I really want him to take me in his arms, and kiss me. Bella, is that so bad?’
‘Of course it’s not so bad. But do you know what his feelings are for you?’
‘I don’t think he thinks of me as any more than a good friend to lark with along with Val. But at least he hasn’t told me I’m like a sister.’ Lucie looked up with a wan smile. ‘I don’t know that he thinks of me much at all.’
‘He’s coming to Vauxhall Gardens with us all, isn’t he?’
‘Oh, yes, he’s Val’s very best friend. That’s why Freddie would never do anything to harm him, even if he did love me for himself.’
‘We’re both tired, dearest. Let’s have some sleep and everything will look better in the morning.’
‘It feels better already. I feel clearer about things. Oh, what a mess, Bella.’
‘No, it’s not a mess. It will ravel out. You just wait and see.’ Sybella kissed Lucie on the cheek. ‘I’m taking James to the Park tomorrow to feed the wildfowl on the Serpentine. He’s been in the kitchen this afternoon collecting up the stale toast and piecrusts from the kitchen. He’s such a sweet and joyful boy. You can’t be low-spirited for long while he’s about.’
‘I know, his conversation is coming on really well too. He loves words.’
‘As he’s away from the stables, and his hero, George, they’re less surprising!’ They both chuckled at the rich cant that made up so much of his childish chatter sometimes disconcerting more discerning adults.
‘Goodnight, Bella.’ Lucie closed the door quietly and went to her bed. The sisters lay awake thinking their own thoughts and then fell into deep and troubled sleep.
9
NOT TO BE TRUSTED IN GROTTOES
Sybella and James walked towards Park Street, heading for the Grosvenor Gate entrance to the Park. It was so early in the day it was still misty, and they had to wend their way through the delivery men and boys carrying sides of beef and baskets of vegetables down the basement steps into the kitchens of the big houses. There were shouts and curses, which interested James no end. ‘Mama, why he say dub the jigger to that lady?’
‘He just wanted her to open the door, so he could give her the vegetables.’
‘He say rum doxy. Like that word.’
‘It sounds a nice word but it’s not to be used by you or me, James. It’s really important you remember the words you can use are only those we use together.’
His brow wrinkled with puzzlement and under his breath, Sybella heard him say, ‘Rum doxy, rum doxy.’ She diverted him by pointing out how some of the carts laden with produce had come directly from the countryside, the mud still caked on their wheels, a few piled high with flowers tied with hemp string in loose, scented bunches. She heard herself described by a passing carrier as a ‘gentry mort’ but was grateful that James seemed to have missed that, busy as he was watching the dogs.
He was carrying a small basket filled with bread and crusts from Lady Godley’s kitchen and was keen to offer bits of his bounty to the various dogs that scavenged around the carts. Sybella hurried him on, as they still had quite a walk to the Serpentine. They passed the south-west corner of Grosvenor Square where Mr Brabazon’s grand house stood. She resisted the desire to peer into the mist in the hopes of seeing a tall man on a very large black horse.
Hyde Park was wreathed in the early morning haze, diffusing the light and making the distant trees smoky and indistinct. The few walkers and horse riders exercising their steeds before the busyness of the day materialised out of the mist, then seemed to liquefy as they receded once again into the distance.
‘See ducks?’ James gazed up at his mother. ‘An’ eagles, an’ owls?’
‘We’ll see ducks and swans and moorhens.’ She chuckled and squeezed his hand. ‘But probably not eagles. And all owls should be going to sleep.’
They walked on, Sybella pleased to be breathing the fresh air filled with birdsong, almost as sweet as the Wiltshire air of home. James was chattering gaily about the world he could immediately see, spotting horses in the distance, ‘Rum prancers,’ he said under his breath, and a few children like him, out early, walking with their nurses, some bowling hoops and throwing balls. When they glimpsed the water glittering through the trees, James quickened his pace, trotting forwards rather unsteadily over the roots of the copse of willows that fringed the water.
