All for Love (15 page)

‘Come then.’

‘But they will soon be striking up for the first dance! And…’ this was safe enough. ‘You know how I love to dance.’

‘I do indeed.’ Like everything else he said to her, this was charged with more meaning than she could cope with. She was almost tempted to plead illness, to pretend a faint, anything to avoid the threatened interview. But what was the use? No hope of getting in touch with Josephine before they met again. To postpone it would be merely to make him angrier than he already seemed.

So, downstairs, she let him take her pelisse from a servant and drape it becomingly round her shoulders, then put her arm lightly on his to be led down the steps into the big corner lot, which was brilliant now with oriental lanterns. It was also full of other couples, pacing decorously among the mazy paths of Mrs. Broughton’s European garden, and Juliet hoped for a moment that here, too, it would be impossible to talk privately.

But Tarot’s grip on her arm had tightened so that it hurt. ‘I am an old campaigner,’ he said. ‘As you well know. I took the precaution of reconnoitring the ground earlier in the evening.’

He was leading her, as he spoke, at a brisk pace across the heavy-scented knot-garden towards a hedge that showed high and dark beyond it. One last lantern marked a black gap in the hedge. No other couple was near. He whisked her quickly through the gap. ‘The vegetable garden.’ His voice in her ear was amused now. ‘I expect some others will have had the same idea, but they will not wish to disturb us any more than we do them. So now,
mon
amour
,’ he changed firmly to French, ‘what have you to say to me?’

‘To say?’ She too spoke French. After all, it was logical enough that as two French emigrés they should use their own language. ‘Why, what would you wish me to say?’

‘Or rather, what can you say?’

Her arm would be bruised in the morning, where he was holding it. Part of her mind was busy trying to think how she would explain this — or a sudden predilection for long-sleeved dresses. Absurd to let her thoughts wander so, when she so badly needed all her wits about her. He was furiously angry with her, that was clear now, or rather, of course, with Josephine. And, back there, he had given her a clue. ‘An old campaigner,’ he had said. ‘As she well knew.’ Very well then, chance it. ‘My dear —’ Impossible to tell what term of endearment Josephine had used to him, if any. But after all, to her certain knowledge, they could not have met for over three years. This dangerous man, whose grip on her arm was hurting her so, must be part of that past of Josephine’s, before Waterloo, about which no one knew anything. So: no use waiting for help from Anne. She would know nothing of him either. She took a deep breath. Before Waterloo. ‘I thought you dead,’ she used the familiar French form of address. ‘One cannot mourn for ever.’

‘No! So it seems.’ His angry arm had been steering her, all this time, away from the gap where light showed through from the formal garden. A paved path ... the heavy scent of honeysuckle ... a corner of complete darkness where the hedge met the high wall of the lot. And there, suddenly, he swept her into his arms for a bruising kiss. It took her so completely by surprise that for a moment she was helpless, aware only of his hard lips, hard body, arms like iron round her. Then, as he moved his arms to embrace her more completely still, she was able to free her right hand, to bring it up, with all her strength, crack against the side of his face.

‘
Merde
!’ He let her go. And then, still in French, ‘So that’s how it is.’ He was breathing hard, the rage she had felt in him all evening exploding at last.

‘I’m a married woman.’

‘Why, so you are! How could I forget? And this is your welcome for one come back from the grave to you!’

‘What else can I do?’ But at least she had been right in assuming that Josephine had thought him dead.

‘What indeed! “A married woman”.’ His voice mocked hers. ‘And in love with your fine new husband? And just imagine that I actually asked myself if it was safe to come on you, plump, this evening. If you might not faint, or throw yourself into my arms, or something equally disastrous. I flattered myself, it seems.’

‘I am afraid you did.’ So this was what had been wrong, all the time, with Josephine’s marriage to Hyde. This was the shadow that had lain between them. Very likely, Josephine would have thrown herself into his arms, or, at least, have wanted to. Well, there was nothing she could do about that. Josephine would have to unravel this tangle for herself, when she returned. Or rather, best of all, for Hyde’s sake, Josephine must never know that the grave had opened to reveal this disastrous
revenant
.

‘How long did you mourn, I wonder? A week? Ten days? A whole fortnight perhaps? And then, along comes the rich American and, pouf! Adieu!’

Now, suddenly, among all the turmoil of her own fears, she found time to be sorry for him. Raw feeling in his voice, that savage embrace ... He loved Josephine; had been sure of her; and now — this. ‘I’m sorry.’ The real sympathy in her voice silenced him for a moment. ‘But you must see how it is with me. Hyde saved me from disaster, back in France, after Waterloo. And you — where were you?’

‘You actually care to ask?’ Savage irony in his tone. ‘Well,
ma
belle
, you shall hear. I was a prisoner of the Russians, taken at Waterloo. Oh, you were safe enough to think me dead. I might as well have been. While you were being rescued from “disaster” by this Monsieur Hyde who turns your voice to
syrop
, I was being dragged back to Russia by my captors. I was wounded, in case you are interested, half-conscious, delirious a good deal of the time, without the wits to demand an exchange, to declare myself, while we were still within the bounds of civilisation. When I recovered my senses, I was in St. Petersburg, treated like the common soldier I appeared. It has taken me three years to escape. But,’ again that extraordinary bitterness in his tone, ‘by what you tell me, three days would have been too long! So now, here we are, you and I and this “Mr. Purchis” whom you adore.’ He laughed, suddenly, harshly. ‘This scene does not play itself as I had expected. Do you know,
ma
mie
, I had thought you and I would be planning, together, how we should make the most of our — well, shall we call it unusual situation? And now, I find myself planning alone.’

‘Planning what?’ If she had been frightened before, now she was terrified.

‘Revenge?’ He thought about it, for a moment, there in the dark, then she felt his shrug. ‘What’s the use? I have lost you,
ma
chère
, and there’s an end of it. Tomorrow, when the bruise on my cheek begins to show, will be time enough to think of that. Tonight, let us think of what I have gained.’

‘And what is that?’ She shivered in the warm air.

‘What do you think,
petite
? One does not escape from Russia loaded with diamonds. Nor is there a livelihood, or even a welcome, waiting for Napoleon’s followers in France today. I was lucky. I escaped from Russia across the Baltic to Denmark. There was an American ship loading in Copenhagen.’ His hand was hard again on hers. ‘Have you happened to notice my callouses? I worked my way across the Atlantic, before the mast. They bled a good deal at first. Not that you would care. At least my earnings (and my winnings: you will be glad to hear that I have not lost my skill with the dice) were enough to set me up, when I landed in Charleston, as the gentleman I am. They will not last long. Was it not a fortunate thing for me that I chanced on an old copy of the
Savannah
Georgian
with the news of your marriage to Mister-so-rich-Purchis, and, best of all, your return to Savannah. I was using it, if you must know (the newspaper) as a blanket. When I read that notice, I knew I need never be cold again. But I am desolate,’ he meant it, ‘that it is only your money that will warm me, not you.’

‘Never.’ If it had been half a question, she left no doubt about the answer. There was no doubt, either, about her position, or rather Josephine’s. Or, come to that, Hyde’s. All too clearly, Tarot could ruin Josephine, if he wanted to, and therefore Hyde. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘What do you think? Since I cannot have you, the only woman I ever thought to love, by God, I will have everything else. What shall we say? A thousand dollars to begin with? That should keep me in shirts and cravats for a while.’

‘A thousand
dollars
?’

‘Picayune, you think? Perhaps you are right? I should have said a thousand pounds.’

‘Impossible.’ If only she knew what term of endearment Josephine would use towards him. ‘You must understand my position,’ she went on. ‘If I tell Hyde, all is lost. He is —’ she paused. Incredibly dangerous ground here. ‘He is a gentleman. He would ... I don’t like to think what he would do. But, pay he would not. So, if you want your “livelihood” you must keep your demands within what I can reasonably pay myself.’

‘Ah,’ It was, curiously, a sigh of satisfaction. ‘There’s my old. Josephine. You’re right, of course,
ma
mie
. Since we understand each other so well on this, who knows what we may not achieve when this honeymoon of yours is over. In the meantime,’ he kissed the tips of her fingers lightly. ‘I am your slave, as I was the Russians’. You will decide how much you can afford to give me ... By the week. By the month ... By the day, if you like. I am not faithless,
mon
amour
. All through those bitter Russian winters, it was the thought of you that kept me warm, kept me alive. It would make me happy to see you every day, if only to receive the pittance you will scrape for me out of Mr. Purchis’s millions.’ He laughed again, that harsh laugh that frightened her. ‘How dear do you think Mr. Purchis should purchase me?’

Chapter Thirteen

As Juliet had feared, Anne was no help at all. She had never heard of Monsieur Tarot, nor of anyone who answered to his description. ‘You’re right. It must have been that time before Waterloo, when Josephine went off by herself. When I saw her again, after the battle she looked — it’s hard to describe.’ Anne was not a woman given to fine phrases, but now she produced one. ‘She looked as if she had been down into hell. And,’ she was remembering, ‘she went out every day by herself, among the common soldiers. I was terrified for her.’

‘She was looking for him? Or for news of him? Poor Josephine. But why among the common soldiers, I wonder? He said something about that; something I did not understand. A spy, perhaps?’

‘Oh, poor Josephine,’ Anne echoed her. ‘But she must be told.’

‘Yes.’ During the sleepless watches of the night, Juliet had come to the same conclusion. Whatever disaster it might mean, she had no right to keep the knowledge that Tarot was alive from her cousin. ‘I shall send to her today,’ she said. ‘Besides, the money she left me will not last long, I can see, under Tarot’s demands. Thank God, he knows nothing of the settlement Hyde made on Josephine. He thinks I have to squeeze the money out of him, cent by cent. He is prepared to wait, he says, but how long …’

‘So what will you do?’

‘Write to Josephine in Legare Street and pray God she returns to Charleston soon and gets the letter. In the meantime, I shall develop expensive tastes. Think of the new gowns I’ll need to entertain President Monroe!’

‘Yes,’ said Anne unanswerably, ‘but why should you not pay for them out of your own money?’

‘
Peste
!’ Juliet lapsed furiously into French. ‘You’re right! I
cannot
ask monsieur for money. Specially not when he was so generous before Christmas. Well —’ It had been at the back of her mind all along. ‘It will just have to be the jewels, that’s all.’

‘Madame’s jewels? She’ll never forgive you.’

‘I can’t help that. Whose fault is all this anyway? Besides, if I give them to Tarot one by one, as reluctantly as she would, it will be the most convincing proof that it is all I
can
give.’ She unlocked Josephine’s jewel box and looked in the compartment where she kept her money. It was characteristic of Josephine that she had never thought about her cousin’s finances when she rushed off first to Charleston and then to Norfolk. It was not, Juliet thought now, ruefully counting, that she had been particularly extravagant, but the small comforts she had bought for the servants at Winchelsea, the daily sweetmeats for the children, had mounted to a larger sum than she had realised.

The incidental expenses of the party for Mr. Jay had swallowed up that life-saving present of Hyde’s. Her windfall of winnings from him had kept her solvent for a while, but now that she was back in Savannah there were all kinds of inevitable daily expenses. ‘I don’t think I dare give Tarot any of this,’ she decided, replacing her dwindled hoard in its hiding-place. ‘As it is, if Josephine does not return soon, I may find myself reduced to selling one of her pieces of jewellery, for my own expenses.’

‘There’s no way you could manage to draw on her account?’

‘Unfortunately, I do not add forgery to my other accomplishments.’ She looked down at her bruised right arm that was concealed, today, by an unseasonable, long-sleeved dress. ‘Suppose I was to hurt my hand?’

‘Mr. Purchis would insist on sending for the doctor.’

‘Yes, well: if the worst comes to the worst, I shall just have to
hurt
it. But, in the meantime, I must husband my resources, and fend Monsieur Tarot off with fair words and small jewels. Which do you think Josephine will least mind losing?’

‘God knows.’ Anne actually looked frightened.

‘Or, more important, which will Hyde not miss?’

‘The ones you’ve not been wearing,’ said Anne at once.

‘Yes,’ thoughtfully, ‘which I suspect are Josephine’s favourites. The big, striking ones. Hyde remarked, only the other day, that it was a long time since I had worn the sapphires he bought me in Paris. These, I suppose.’ She opened the leather box and looked at the glittering
parure
with distaste. ‘Sapphires in gold. I cannot imagine how Josephine could have made such a mistake.’

‘You don’t know what she was like, then, in Paris. She was —’ Anne paused. ‘Hungry.’

‘Hungry enough to swallow this!’ Juliet put on the ornate necklace and looked at the effect without enthusiasm. She added the earrings, which were made in the shape of blue and gold flowers. ‘They’re not so bad. I’ll wear them tonight, and promise them to Tarot.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I shall tell him that I cannot give them to him until after our own party next week; that Hyde will expect me to wear them then. At least, that will give us some time.’

‘Will he be satisfied?’

‘We must hope so. By what he said, he is not entirely out of funds yet. He will not want to kill the goose that lays his sapphire eggs. Yes, I think he will be satisfied.’

‘Will he come to our party?’

‘I think I must ask him. No use making him angry unnecessarily.’

‘Then you will have to wear the complete
parure
.’

‘
Mon
dieu
, so I shall! Alice!’

Alice had been quietly busy about the room as they talked. She had noticed the bruise on Juliet’s right arm before she had herself, had exclaimed and been told the whole story. The long-sleeved muslin, fetched from the very back of the closet, had been her suggestion. Josephine had had it made, she had explained, when she first arrived in Savannah, for fear of sunburn. ‘You remember, ma’am, you forgot your parasol yesterday.’

‘Of course! What a fortunate thing. And I have a slight burn today.’ Juliet had looked ruefully at the bruises on her arm that told their tale only too clearly. No use to try and pretend they resulted from anything but a man’s furious grip. ‘It is going to have to last a long time, my burn.’

‘Yes, but remember, ma’am, you have such a sensitive skin. No one will be surprised, least of all the master.’

Now Alice came forward with an armful of dresses. ‘I could put sleeves into all of these, I think.’ She grinned. ‘You will most likely find you’ve set a new style.’

‘Yes. And how hot and wretched I shall be in the mean time! But, Alice, what in the world am I to wear with these?’ She held out the box with its glittering contents.

‘I was thinking about that, ma’am, while you were talking. And, don’t you see, it comes out nice and easy. You must be in a proper taking about your burn, and the long sleeves, and looking so dowdy and all. So, you tell the master, you’re going to wear your best jewels, to carry it off.’

‘Of course! Bless you, Alice, what would I do without you? And you, Anne! Now, I must write a note to Josephine. Alice, will you see that it gets safely to Charleston? Please God, she’ll be there by the time it is.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ said Anne.

***

Tarot had told Juliet that he would meet her at the theatre that night. It was bound to be a full house, since a touring company was putting on
Lovers’
Vows
, Mrs. Inchbald’s popular adaptation of Kotzebue’s play. ‘I know your theatre well,’ he had promised her. ‘I will see to it that we have a private moment.’

It was sheer bad luck that made Hyde inquire, when Juliet was already dressed, what the play was.

‘
Lovers’
Vows
,’ Juliet said without enthusiasm. ‘I doubt I shall be bored to distraction, but I promised Mrs. Broughton that I would join her party.’

‘Not the play that caused all the trouble in
Mansfield
Park
? Do you know, I find myself strongly tempted to come and see whether it is really so shocking.’

‘Oh!’ Here was disaster. ‘But, consider, my dear,’ she recovered her tone quickly. ‘You have been out and about all day. You look worn out. I cannot think Judge James would approve of any more gadding.’

‘And you are all ready to go, and do not wish to wait while I change my dress? Does Mrs. Broughton call for you?’

‘Yes. Any minute now. Hyde, do be sensible. You know how tedious you find her, and how hot the theatre will be. And all her daughters are coming too.’ She hoped it would be the clincher.

It worked the other way. ‘In that case I feel in honour bound to act the good husband and come and keep up your spirits. But no need to keep Mrs. Broughton waiting. I will walk over when I am ready, and join you.’ He was half-way up the stair when he turned. ‘And, talking of the heat in the theatre, are you wise to be wearing long sleeves? Charming though you look in them.’

‘Oh, the most tedious thing. I contrived to burn myself yesterday, just in that short time I was without a parasol. My arms are not fit to be seen today.’

‘My condolences. And all the more reason why I should be your squire tonight, rather than some stranger who might hurt you by too strong a grasp. I will be with you directly.’

The sound of a carriage outside ended the conversation, to Juliet’s relief. Frightening to have had him come so near, by accident, to the real reason for her long sleeves.

Mrs. Broughton was as delighted as she was surprised to hear that Hyde was to join them. ‘Monsieur Tarot’s nose will be quite out of joint when he sees you actually squired by your husband. I am sure that is not at all what he had in mind when he begged to be allowed to join my party. See, girls, there is hope for you yet.’ Looking them over, as they alighted after the absurdly short drive to the theatre: ‘Geraldine, your necklace is twisted; Lucinda, your dress is creased; Deborah, stop slouching this instant.’ She turned to Juliet, who wondered for a wild moment what sergeant-major’s comment she would have for her. When it came, it was predictable enough. ‘Long sleeves, my love? You are like to be baked alive in the theatre.’

‘And serve me right for a careless fool.’ They were entering the brilliantly lighted foyer. ‘I forgot my parasol, coming in from Winchelsea yesterday, and am burned like a lobster today.’ She was looking about her eagerly as she spoke, hoping to snatch a word with Tarot before Hyde arrived.

William Jay and two gangling young cousins of the Broughtons had come forward eagerly to greet them and make themselves useful in taking pelisses and shawls and getting the ladies comfortably settled in the pair of boxes Mrs. Broughton had taken in the lower tier. ‘Monsieur Tarot is late as always,’ she said with some apparent satisfaction. ‘Even your charms, my dear, are not powerful enough to mend his manners. I doubt we shall see him before the interval.’

Hyde, on the other hand, slipped quietly into the seat behind Juliet just as the curtain rose for the first act. ‘I could not bear to miss the great discovery scene between Agatha and Frederic,’ he whispered. ‘Do you think this Agatha will contrive to be as “maternal” as Maria Bertram?’

‘Hush!’ said Juliet.

The play was just as nonsensical as she had predicted, but under other circumstances, she would have enormously enjoyed seeing it with Hyde, and tracing the course of those disastrous rehearsals in Sir Thomas’s converted study at Mansfield Park. As it was, it was only by an immense effort that she could keep her mind on the action at all. Of the many anxieties that plagued her, one stood out paramount. Would Hyde, as she had, see a likeness between Tarot and Fonseca?

She got her answer soon enough. When the ornate curtain swept down and the audience rustled to its feet to move out to the front rooms for refreshments, Hyde took her arm with the gentle touch due to her “sunburn”. ‘Let us act Darby and Joan,’ he said, ‘and shock the gossips.’ Mrs. Broughton was busy seeing to it that Mr. Jay and her two nephews did their duty by her daughters. ‘Do you know,’ he went on quietly. ‘If I believed in ghosts, I would think I had seen Fonseca’s as I came in.’

‘Fonseca’s ghost? Oh,’ she managed a smile. ‘You have seen an old acquaintance of mine, Monsieur Tarot. He is to join our party, Mrs. Broughton tells me. She seems to think I have made a conquest of him. Nonsense, of course; it is but that we are old acquaintances from before Waterloo. But, it is true, when I met him last night I, too, was struck for a moment by the likeness to Fonseca. It’s the foreign air, I think. There is no real similarity, but I confess I was taken aback for a moment. Poor Mr. Fonseca,’ she added.

‘Yes. Let us hope we do not find ourselves saying, “Poor Monsieur Tarot”.’

She looked up at him, puzzled and frightened. Was this a threat, a warning, or, impossibly, a joke? He smiled blandly back, ‘And here, if I mistake not, comes the gentleman himself, every exquisite inch of him. You must make me known to him, my dear. Every conquest of yours is of interest to me.’

‘Not such a great conquest as all that.’ She managed a laugh. ‘You must allow me my little vanities. As you see, he is slow enough to join us.’

‘Yes. One might almost think he was hoping to speak to you alone, waiting until I had done the gallant thing and gone off to fight my way through the crowd and fetch you an ice. You would like one, no doubt?’

‘Oh, yes, please! It’s stifling in here, and it makes my burn hurt. Anything cold would do: an ice, a drink …’