A Little Folly (20 page)

She avoided his eyes. ‘I do not like to think of you quarrelling over this – you who have been the firmest of friends. And I’m sure Valentine meant no harm—’

‘A pity it has to come to a quarrel. But someone must make the young rip see sense. I always thought
you
not deficient in that quality.’

‘Mr Tresilian, please don’t reproach me. I have no influence over Valentine – nor would I seek it: that is quite understood between us. Just as he in turn would never seek to regulate my conduct—’

‘Aye, I have seen that, and more’s the pity,’ he said harshly. ‘This prodigious game you are playing with the Lynley brothers: first one must dangle, then t’other. I dare say it is very enjoyable for you: the consciousness of power always is. But the sensation is not so agreeable for those on the receiving end; and the spectacle is not pretty. You would do well to remember what became of Bonaparte, before you start enjoying your power too much.’

Louisa stared at him: stared away: was for some burning moments beyond speech. It was as shocking as if a trusted dog had turned wolfish. – There was nothing, of course, in what he said: absolutely nothing. It was his disappointment for Kate making him unreasonable; and something else perhaps – something she had seen all too much of.

‘Thank you for the reminder, Mr Tresilian. But I cannot consent to
you
directing and controlling my life: there was enough of that from my father.’

‘Your father is dead,’ he pronounced, his tone and look not at all softened. ‘I do wonder how long you can keep pretending he is alive, so you can defy him.’

She turned on her heel and left him. She thought she heard him call something out to her, but whether it were reproof or remorse she did not want to hear it; and she plunged back into the ballroom, where the noise and movement, the stir and chatter, could perform their blessed task of shutting out thought.

T
he Spedding party left the Portman Square ball at a late hour; but Louisa’s pleasure in the occasion was over long before then. In vain did she apply herself to the business of gaiety. Dancing, conversation, supper – none would answer: all was spoiled. Only in the company of Francis Lynley could she find a little solace – a little, because she could not approach him without a searing consciousness of Mr Tresilian’s assertions: horrible and unjust as they were, they affected her, and she could not bring sufficient composure to Lieutenant Lynley’s society properly to appreciate it. Happily he at least was the man she thought him: he respected her right to be distracted and subdued, and did not demand to know what was wrong, or make heavy attempts to cajole her into a different temper. Here, at last, was a gentleman who could speak to her without wishing to lay down the law to her; she wished others would follow his example.

The Tresilians left the ball early. One awkwardness was thus removed – or, rather, postponed: for another meeting with Mr Tresilian there must surely be, unless he decided to wash his hands of London and take the first coach to Devonshire, and she did not know how she would face it. Even as she lay in bed that night, running the scene over in her memory, she was composing some very pointed and spirited replies to him; but there was no altering the fact that, misguided and unfair as his censures were, their coming from
him
had a peculiar power to grieve and agitate her.

She was eager to see Valentine, and hear what he had to say of his altercation with Mr Tresilian – and to find in him, perhaps, the understanding ally that he had always been to her through the troublous years at Pennacombe. But he had come home very late, and was very late rising; and thus to her distress was added the unwelcome suspicion that Mr Tresilian had been right in this at least – that the spell of Lady Harriet’s house was far from broken. Breakfast was over, and she had gone up to her room to put on her bonnet and pelisse preparatory to a morning’s engagement with Mrs Spedding, when she at last heard his bedroom door open.

Only a few minutes elapsed, and then there was a great clatter on the stair. – Valentine flung open her door.

‘Good God, Valentine, what is it?’ Her eyes dropped from his white pinched face to the letter he clutched in his hand.

Tremblingly he held it out. ‘You had better read it.’ She took the letter, while her brother sank into a chair and put his head in his hands.

For some time after reading this letter Louisa stood in doubtful wonder whether she were not dreaming: even glanced at the bed, as if she might see herself lying there; and then, assured of the letter’s reality, glanced over it again and, with a last clinging of hope, tried to tell herself that she did not understand it – that it did not at all mean what she took it to mean, that it was an absurdity, and any moment Valentine would raise his head and laugh with her.

It would not do. The lesser legal details she did not comprehend, the outlines were all too clear. – This was, surely, ruinous.

But there was Valentine first. Alarm, speculation, preparation for whatever trouble lay ahead must give way to the first duty of her heart: to support her brother, and give him the assurance that his cause was entirely hers. She knelt down, and let her silence and embrace convey all.

At last he kissed her hand, and thanked her, and tried to show her a sanguine face; though the marks of distress were too evident.

‘You comprehend Colonel Eversholt’s meaning, I think,’ he said, rising and taking up the letter again.

‘He means to sue you for—’

‘Trespass, I think is the strict legal definition,’ Valentine said, with a grating laugh. ‘Trespass on his property, meaning his wife. Dear God. A crim-con suit. I should not have believed it even of him – to see his wife dragged before the publicity of the courts, held up as an adulteress, to satisfy his pride and vindictiveness. Well, we shall see. We shall see.’

‘Valentine – what he says of these – these sufficient proofs …’

He threw her a wild look. ‘Louisa, you do not believe his accusation – the essence of his accusation – to be true?’

She hesitated. ‘I am ready to hear, and believe, anything you wish to tell me, Valentine.’

He flushed crimson, and each had the greatest difficulty in looking at the other. ‘My esteem – yes, my affection for Lady Harriet is great, and it is warm. I do not deny that there may have existed a disposition – a temptation even – on both sides. But every impulse of respect and honour has operated against it.’

Louisa believed, or chose to believe: it did not much matter, she felt, beside the pressing question of what was to happen. ‘Perhaps,’ she said hopefully, ‘this is merely an empty threat, more of his bluster: and if you were to undertake not to see Lady Harriet any more, for example …’ But on recollecting her encounter with Colonel Eversholt, she could not even convince herself; there was, she suspected, as much steel as bluster in him: and Valentine was already shaking his head.

‘No, no. He means to go through with it. As to these proofs – well, no doubt there are always servants or hirelings ready to be bribed and say whatever he wants the court to hear. I have read of such things in crim-con cases in the newspapers.’ His brow contracted. ‘Dear God, to think of Lady Harriet paraded – publicly humiliated in that way. Well: if he insists on it, then let it be.
I
shall defend her reputation – clear her of the slightest stain of dishonour. I must see her at once—’

‘Valentine, no. – Surely that would be ill-advised just now – even playing into his hands. You had much better keep away, until – until we have taken advice.’

His look was stormy, as if for a moment he doubted her allegiance; but then it subsided, and he nodded, flinging himself down miserably, and said: ‘I suppose so. But I hardly know where to begin.’

Louisa thought of their aunt Spedding, and their cousins: amiable, sympathetic and well-meaning – yet for any difficulty beyond a question of etiquette, or the right length of a sleeve, scarcely to be depended upon. There was only one answer.

‘We must ask Mr Tresilian. He will know what to do; and we can rely completely on his confidence.’

Valentine chewed his lip. ‘I doubt he will welcome an approach from me. We had something of a falling-out last night.’

‘I know: so did I. But he will put that aside for something as important as this.’

‘Hm. He will gloat.’

Louisa’s own feelings about Mr Tresilian were still decidedly mixed – but she did not think gloating part of his character; and the matter was too urgent for finessing. She despatched a servant with a note to Mr Tresilian’s lodging, entreating him to call at Hill Street as soon as possible; and then made her excuses to Mrs Spedding and Sophie. – This was easy: Mrs Spedding only smiled and asked how she liked the new trimming to her hat; and Sophie chuckled slyly, and said that she hoped Louisa would not be dull, though to be sure someone might call – someone like Lieutenant Lynley – who might help pass the time.

The name brought back the memory of their unconventional dance. Louisa could not help but sigh at it, and wish that the carefree and exhilarated spirit of that moment might return; but that, she was afraid, could not be soon expected: and when Mr Tresilian arrived and, after the briefest of salutations, took in his hand the letter Valentine wordlessly extended, the growing gravity of his expression seemed to confirm it.

‘How pompous,’ he said at last, tossing the letter down. ‘And what a wretched villain he is.’

‘At last we agree on something,’ Valentine said, very near to sullenly.

‘You do know what this means, don’t you?’ Mr Tresilian said, gazing levelly at them each in turn. He looked a little worn, as if he had not slept well.

‘It means he is prepared to expose Lady Harriet to all the notoriety of a crim-con suit,’ Valentine said hotly. ‘Expose her to a shame absolutely unwarranted. And it
is
unwarranted, Tresilian, before you read me another lecture—’

‘I don’t much care if it is or not – and neither, I suspect, does he. Colonel Eversholt is out for what he can get, Valentine. You are a man of fortune, and he sees a way of taking advantage of that. Have you heard the kind of damages the courts are awarding for crim-con lately? Ten thousand pounds is a fair rate, it seems. I remember one award not so long ago of twenty-five thousand. I do not know the state of your financial affairs and, of course,’ he set his jaw, ‘they are not my business. Perhaps you may realise such sums. But I would estimate that, even at the best, it would put you hock-deep in debt for the rest of your life.’

Valentine was very still. ‘That is assuming the court finds against me,’ he said huskily.

‘Yes. Well, you like faro, Valentine, and litigation is an equally chancy bet. Then, of course, there are the costs, if you choose to contest the suit—’

‘Naturally I will contest it. If I do not, it is tantamount to admitting guilt – above all, Lady Harriet’s guilt. That I shall never allow – never.’

‘But what of Colonel Eversholt?’ Louisa said. ‘Will not bringing such a suit involve him in costs? From what Sophie tells me, he is continually distressed for funds himself.’

‘That’s a consideration,’ said Mr Tresilian, thoughtfully. ‘It is an expensive business for the plaintiff. It may mean, perhaps, that the threat is not as serious as it appears. On the other hand, he may intend to go to his last penny to pursue it – as there are such rich rewards if he wins.’

‘I still think I should go and see Lady Harriet at once – acquaint her with this outrage,’ Valentine muttered.

Mr Tresilian drew a deep breath, and seemed to be holding back some strong expressions. ‘My dear Valentine, she will know. And there is nothing to be gained, and much to be lost, by such indiscretion now. – Understandable, and entirely to your honour though it is.’

There was a sort of reconciliation in these words, a healing of the division of last night, which found an answer in Valentine’s softened expression. Louisa was satisfied to see it; and could dispense with any such gesture to herself, especially as she was secure in her own case of being irreproachably in the right.

‘I know nothing of Colonel Eversholt, beyond what I saw of him that night at Jermyn Street,’ Mr Tresilian went on. ‘Is he a man likely to make these threats idly? Is he of a character to retract, or temporise?’

‘He is monstrous,’ Valentine muttered.

‘The monstrosity we may take as read,’ Mr Tresilian said drily, and looked to Louisa.

‘I have met him only once. I would call him volatile – but not light-minded. Sophie might be able to tell you more.’

‘No, no,’ said Mr Tresilian, quickly. ‘It is best if your cousins, and your aunt, know nothing of this for the present. Of course, if it does come to a court case, they must know; and by the same token you will have to stay in town, whether here or elsewhere.’

‘I have no desire to leave London,’ Valentine said. ‘If I did, it would be – well, it would be slinking away with my tail between my legs.’ From defiance he sank sharply and visibly into misery. ‘Great God, I never imagined any of this. How can it be? I have done nothing wrong. Unless following the natural impulses of the heart is wrong. Well, no doubt it is. Father would certainly have told me so.’

Louisa could not help stealing a glance at Mr Tresilian, hearing this echo of his words last night; but his face was impassive.

‘There is no profit in dwelling on how you got in this position,’ he said. ‘The fact is, you are in it; and we must consider every means that may get you out of it. The first thing is to speak to a lawyer – without prejudice, informally, just to see how the land lies. I know a good man in the City. Helped me out of a devilish difficulty with the bills of lading for the
Cornelius
. To be sure, maritime law is more his speciality; but he’s a canny fellow, and absolutely to be trusted. Come. We’ll go now.’

Valentine, after a little protesting that he could not think straight, submitted; and Mr Tresilian bore him swiftly away. Louisa would willingly have gone with them, but there was surely nothing she could contribute; and it seemed that just now Mr Tresilian’s briskness might be of greater benefit to Valentine than her sympathy.

Left alone, however, and relieved of the responsibility of supporting Valentine’s spirits, she was at liberty to think, and to imagine: to picture the probable consequences of this unhappy predicament, in all their most vivid and terrible colours. The scandal, embarrassment and pain of a public suit, reported in all the newspapers and the subject of every malicious tongue – the blow to Valentine’s reputation, regardless of the outcome, and how stingingly he would feel it – the worst result of an award of large damages, and the struggles it would put him through – debt, distress, insolvency, Pennacombe mortgaged or sold – the firm ground on which they had stood crumbling beneath them: all passed swiftly before her, until she was almost maddened by the contemplation of it, and her inability to do anything to change it. It was the injustice that afflicted her above all. – Whatever the secret truth of the matter, whatever Valentine had done or had not done, she could not conceive of its meriting
this
degree of punishment. Her thoughts turned towards Lady Harriet – not angrily, but pointedly. She was doubtless an unhappy woman, and it was not altogether surprising that Valentine’s charm and gallantry had operated on her to greater effect than her discretion would have advised; still, she must have known that there was some danger – must have heard a voice of caution, if she had not heeded it.