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Will fell silent, clearly dismayed by these revelations.
“You see now,” she went on, “why there can be no defence… no reasonable explanation… no forgiveness. My father is a wicked, wicked man who betrayed his family for his own pleasure, and has forfeited all right to respect and filial duty. I no longer have a father, Will. For thirteen years, I have had no father.”
“Then you will just have to share mine,” he said softly. “After all, he will be just as much yours when we are married.”
It was too much. She had no defence against such gentleness. She closed her eyes, but the hot tears squeezed their way out to spill onto her cheeks. She put her hand to her mouth as if to keep the shaming sobs inside her.
He shifted his chair a little, perhaps to screen her distress from general view, although the room was all but empty. Then she felt linen pressed into her hand. When she did not take it, he gently dabbed the handkerchief against her face, mopping the tears.
“This is not like you,” he said, his voice so softly sympathetic. “Are you ill? Shall I send for a physician?”
She shook her head. “It is only that…” She opened her eyes, to find his face only inches from hers, all concern. He moved away at once.
“May I fetch you something?” he said, speaking more normally. “A glass of wine? Some lemonade?”
Again she shook her head. “You are sokind,Will,”she burst out. “All of you… so kind to me, when I do not deserve it.”
“Not deserve it? How can you say so?”
“It is true! You are all so good to me, and I am nothing but a scheming wretch who should never darken the doors of good people.”
“No, no, no,” he murmured. He raised her hand to his lips again, and the touch of it against her bare skin made her shiver with some nameless feeling. Not fear. Not revulsion… definitely not that. Some feeling she had never experienced before.
“You are not well,” he said at once. “Are you cold? May I fetch you a shawl?”
“No… no, nothing. I am quite well, I assure you. I am just… I cannot tell you… oh, Will, I am so sorry. I am not usually so feeble.”
“No, indeed. You are the most composed of women, Miss Whittleton. That is why I am so concerned for you. Perhaps a rest in one of the bedrooms? Or may I send for the carriage to take you home?” She shook her head. “Then I shall stay here with you until you recover, or if my company is irksome to you, shall I fetch my stepmother? Or one of my sisters?”
“Your company is not irksome to me,” she said quietly. “And Will… I believe we are on such terms now that you may call me Eloise.”
He beamed with pleasure. “May I? Thank you! How good you are… Eloise. But how I wish I could do something — anything at all — to alleviate your distress.”
“You are very kind—” she began again, but he hushed her with a finger lightly pressed to her mouth, and that charming smile.
“No. Say no more. There is no need to speak.”
And so they sat, her hand still held in his larger one, as her tears slowed and eventually stopped, and her racing pulse returned to its habitual pace. There were voices in the distance — whispered ones in the garden outside, loud male ones around the card tables in the library, women chattering on the stairs. Above them the music had begun again for the cotillion. But here in this empty supper room, amidst the abandoned plates and glasses and half-eaten Italian creams and pastry crumbs, they sat on in silence. It was comfortable, she decided. She felt, for the first time, entirely at ease with him, not irritated or suspicious or resentful.
It was almost like being married.
Then guilt washed over her again, and now she could not deny the truth. What she was doing was utterly wrong, to abuse such good people in this way for her own devious ends. It would not do.
~~~~~
‘To Miss Jupp, St Peter’s Road, Sagborough, West Riding. My very dear friend, You ask me in your most recent letter to tell you something of our night at Vauxhall Gardens, and wonder why I have said nothing about it. I confess, I have tried very hard to put it out of my mind, for an Incident occurred that night which distressed me greatly, and I had no wish to alarm you and Ricky unduly. Be assured that I am well — indeed, we are all in perfect health. Let me not try your patience by telling a long story. In brief, Mr Somerwell tried to kiss me. There! I have said it, and when I see it written down on paper in that way, it is not so very horrible, is it? After all, it is not as if I have never been kissed before, and there have been times— But never mind that. It was a dreadful shock, for I was not expecting it in the least, but then Will came along and knocked Mr S to the ground, and now he has gone away, so that is all right. And although I cried a little at first, I soon saw that it was only a kiss, after all, and nothing to be agitated about. But what distresses me above all things is that Mr S is agentleman, Belinda. He is supposed to be a better class of person than the Yorkshire men I knew before, according to Mama, and now I see that he is no different, and how can I trust any of them? I do not know how I might distinguish the good ones from the bad, for they all seem so well mannered. Lord Albury is another one whose manners are impeccable, but how can I know what he might do if he ever found me alone? Mama is very excited about him, but I cannot trust him. I cannot trust any of them. At least, poor Mr Crutchley may be trusted, I dare say, for he is old enough to be my grandfather. Well, almost, and he is so fat and wheezy no one could ever imagine him to be a proper suitor. He is to come to the opera with us tomorrow, and on Friday he is to arrange an expedition to Richmond with open carriages, with a picnic and everything that is most delightful, and I need have no fear he will try to kiss me. I shall write again very soon with the full details of our ball, which all went splendidly. Angie and I both had partners for every dance. Such a perfect evening, and no one tried to kiss me. Your very affectionate friend, Rosie.’
22: A Ball At Marford House
The season was at its height and the Fletchers were a full part of it. Whether because of Rosie, or through the influence of one of their new acquaintances, they had been accepted into society. The doors of Almack’s were still closed to them, and there were those who refused even to acknowledge the lowly mercer’s family, but they now boasted many acquaintances with distinguished names. They were deluged with invitations and could attend two or three events every night, were they so minded. Stepmother was very much so minded, but Rosie and Angie wanted only to dance. To them, a rout or a card party was a dull affair compared with the bliss of a ball. At first, Stepmother resisted, being inclined to evaluate an invitation based on the rank of the inviter, but Pa overruled her.
“Let my girls enjoy themselves, Lizzie. If they prefer the Armitages’ ball to the duchess’s card party, then who can blame them? Not I. Besides, the Armitages are neighbours, and that means something, I hope. We’d not like to offend them.”
“You will not object if I accept Lady Holmeswood’s invitation, I hope, despite the fact that her husband is a baron ?” Stepmother said stiffly.
“Is that Lord Albury’s sister? Aye, that’s an acquaintance to cultivate, since Johnny knows the family. We’d not want to put any rub in his way.”
Stepmother meekly agreed to it, although her interest in Lord Albury had nothing to do with Johnny.
