Henrietta (20 page)

With this firm resolve, she made his sleepy lordship a chilly adieu at Brook Street and escaped to the privacy of her bedroom for a hearty cry.

T
HE
S
EASON WAS AT
last finished. Marriages, as the top ten thousand very well knew, were not made in heaven. They were made in the overheated saloons and ballrooms of London. The exhausted debutantes who had failed to snare a mate returned to their country homes with their vast wardrobes to recharge their energies for the next battle. The successful ones also rested like exhausted warriors after a long campaign and left the worrying of wedding expenses to their parents.

The hardier spirits followed the Prince Regent to Brighton to resume their military tactics by laying siege to every available bachelor heart in the Assembly Rooms of the now famous seaside resort.

Henrietta had joined the lists.

Beau Reckford should discover that he was not the only pebble on the beach and that elegant gentleman was considerably irritated to find that Henrietta never seemed to be at home. And unless he presented himself very early at the assemblies at the Ship Inn, he found that her dance card was always full.

Henrietta and Miss Scattersworth had rented a house on the Marine Parade which had been vacated at the last minute by an impecunious lord who had lost his rent and lease at the faro table.

Henrietta had never seen the sea before. As the heavy travelling coach had rumbled down the Lewes Road and she had caught her first glimpse of the endless stretch of blue water sparkling under the summer sun, a little of the ache in her heart lessened.

She had decided that she would never love anyone else as deeply and completely as she loved the Beau. But if she should have to settle for half measures, then let it be with some other gentleman. There were many who would be willing to marry her for her money. Henrietta had become worldly enough to not object to that idea. Were the impoverished gentleman complacent and kind and comfortable enough, then she would be happy to repair his fortune in exchange for his name. Children would be adequate compensation for any lack of love, decided Henrietta.

Having firmly made up her mind to put Beau Reckford out of her mind and having firmly convinced herself that she was only in Brighton to look for a suitable husband, she settled back to enjoy her holiday. The longing and pain she felt when she saw Lord Reckford’s handsome face in the ballroom had become such a habit that by the close of the Season, Henrietta had come to accept it the way one accepts the pain of perpetual illness.

For his part, Lord Reckford decided to ignore her in turn. He had received many rebuffs from the vicar’s sister during the first week in Brighton. Enough was enough. If that was all the thanks he was to receive for all his condecension and flattering attention to a little provincial, then to hell with her!

He drank, gambled and flirted as he had never done before and felt immeasurably bored.

His sister, Lady Ann Courtney, anxiously watched him. She had come to like Henrietta and had hoped that her wild brother would settle down and set up his nursery. She watched his haggard face across the breakfast table one morning with disapproval.

“Really, Guy,” she sighed. “You are getting slightly too old to go on in this ramshackle manner. We have only been in Brighton for a week and already tales of your dissipation are coming to my ears.”

“Don’t refine too much on it,” he said lazily. “The old tabbies who come around here would ferret out scandal about a bishop.”

The curtains of the breakfast room window were drawn back affording an excellent view of the Parade. Henrietta Sandford floated past on the arm of a military gentleman. She seemed unusually animated and gay. Behind her trailed Miss Scattersworth, for once unaccompanied. The spinster’s hair under her cap showed faint glints of green. The re-dying of her hair had not been entirely successful. A mischievous breeze carried the infectious trill of Henrietta’s laughter through the open windows to Lord Reckford’s jaundiced ears. He cursed under his breath and threw down his napkin.

His sister regarded him anxiously. “Guy… I had hoped that you were fixed with Miss Sandford. You are not, by any chance, still hankering after poor Lucinda?”

Her brother regarded her with surprise. “I declare I had not thought of Lucinda in some time. Is she still alive?”

“Only just,” said Ann dryly. “But her brother seems to be in a fair way to wasting her fortune.”

He gave her a startled look. “Are you sure Lucinda had a fortune? She was always asking me for money and expensive trinkets. And I thought her sudden interest in the Marquis was because his estate was more considerable than mine.”

“Oh, yes. Lucinda was greedy. Like a greedy little child. But she had quite a considerable fortune.”

“But what has that got to do with her brother…?” Lord Reckford looked at her with a sudden dawning glimmer of understanding.

“Well, of course, Guy. Your wits must be wandering. When Lucinda was put in the madhouse and all the papers signed, her parents being dead, her brother naturally took control of her estate. Why, Guy! What on earth is the matter? You have gone quite white!”

“Her brother,” whispered Lord Reckford. “Her brother.”

“Now what is there about Lucinda Braintree’s brother to put you in such a pucker? A wastral and a rake, I grant you. And talking of rakes,” she began severely. But she spoke to the empty air. The crashing of the outside door marked where his lordship had taken hurried leave.

Ann put down her cup of chocolate and ran to the window. Her brother’s broad back could be seen disappearing at a rapid rate down the Parade.

She sat down again with a sigh. Ever since her little brother had met Miss Sandford… well, she hardly knew him.

Jeremy Holmes was nursing a sore head and a large glass of hock and seltzer when his butler announced Lord Reckford. The Beau hurtled into the room and grabbed Jeremy by the lapels of his magnificent dressinggown.

The brother, Jeremy. Henry Sandford!”

Jeremy slowly and gently disengaged Lord Reckford’s powerful fingers. “Look,” he said patiently, “I don’t like Henry Sandford myself. But is that any reason to come burstin’ in…”

“No, listen and I’ll tell you.” Recovering his usual composure, Lord Reckford bent his head close to his friend’s and began to talk rapidly and urgently.

At that moment, Miss Sandford had given up all pretense of enjoying her companion’s company. She had laughed and chatted gaily until they were well past Lord Reckford’s residence. Then all the sparkle seemed to go out of her day and she paused for a moment by the rail of the Parade and decided suddenly to leave Brighton. Henry had written to say that he would be joining her for a few days and, although he had been all that was amiable to her for some time, she felt she could not endure him under the same roof again.

Her plan of ignoring the infuriating Lord Reckford was not working out. The only way to get over her unfortunate passion was to keep the cause of it firmly out of sight. She turned her head and addressed Miss Scattersworth. “Mattie, we shall leave in the morning.”

Her escort, a Captain Frederick Waverley, tugged his magnificent moustaches in surprise, “Oh, I say, Miss Sandford. Brighton won’t be the same. ’Pon rep. Prettiest gel ’bout to leave town. Gawd, what, eh!”

Miss Mattie let out a wail. “But, Henrietta, perhaps Mr. Sandford will bring Mr. Symes with him.”

“I doubt it, Mattie. He will want his curate to run the parish in his absence.”

Miss Scattersworth sighed dismally and touched her hair under her cap. “Perhaps it is just as well.”

“But, the ball tonight. Promised the waltz, Miss Sandford,” said the Captain. “Must have the pleasure. Last dance and all, gawd, what, eh!”

Henrietta smiled and nodded and privately thought of another gentleman who she hoped to dance with for the last time. Just once more, she would twirl under the lights of the ballroom in Lord Reckford’s arms. And then, she would never see him again. She choked back a sob and, taking her escort’s arm, moved off along the Parade.

As soon as she politely and possibly could, she took her leave of the Captain, assuring him fervently that yes, she would waltz with him—so fervently that he walked away jauntily and happily, convinced he had made another conquest.

At the end of the Parade, two elegant gentleman were propped against the rail, watching his progress. Captain Waverley recognized Lord Reckford and Mr. Jeremy Holmes and puffed out his chest. It was common knowledge that the famous Beau had been dangling after Miss Sandford and now he, Captain Waverley, had succeeded in attaching the affections of the beautiful heiress.

To his surprise, Lord Reckford stepped forward and made him an elegant bow. “Your servant, Captain,” said the Beau. “We have not been introduced but I have heard it said that you are a good opponent in a game of chance and I wondered whether you would like to try your skill against mine.”

The Captain hesitated. It was indeed flattering to be singled out by the famous Lord Reckford but there was a tightness about his lordship’s mouth and a glint in his eye which gave the Captain an uneasy feeling of danger. He opened his mouth to refuse but the Beau went on smoothly, “I had it from your Colonel-in-Chief, Lord Hadrington, that your skill at piquet is beyond compare.”

The Captain beamed. Now here was a different matter. He was anxious for promotion and he did not want his Colonel-in-Chief to hear that he had disobliged a friend.

“Well, well, lead on my lord. Delighted to play you. Anywhere you wish.”

“My house is hard by,” said Lord Reckford, moving to one side of the Captain while Jeremy Holmes flanked the other. Again the Captain had an uneasy feeling of danger and hesitated but Lord Reckford’s hand on his arm was most insistent. The Captain shook his head as though to dispel his fears. After all, what could happen to him? Lord Reckford was a friend of Miss Sandford and then there was the matter of the Colonel-in-Chief.

Once inside, all his fears were dispelled. He was introduced to Lady Ann Courtney and her husband, Sir Geoffrey. Admittedly the couple looked startled to hear that Lord Reckford meant to play cards at such an early hour but Sir Geoffrey merely suggested that they use the study on the first floor where they would be sure of being undisturbed.

The Captain surveyed the luxurious appointments of the house with an appreciative eye. Wait till he told the fellows in the mess!

As he was studying his cards, Mr. Holmes placed a glass of madeira at his elbow and urged him to try it. The Captain waved his hand. “Never drink this early in the day. Wait until the sun’s over the yard arm as the navy chaps say, eh, what!”

There was a slight pause and then Lord Reckford’s husky voice said, “Ah, but I wish you would give me your opinion. I sent a case of it to Lord Hadrington.”

The Captain eyed his glass. A stray sunbeam winked hypnotically on the crystal. He could hear himself saying to Lord Hadrington, “Played a rubber with that fellow Reckford t’other day. Damned fine madeira, what,” and how the fellows would stare to hear him discussing the famous Beau in such easy terms.

The Captain squared his shoulders and brought the glass stiffly up to his mouth as if about to salute and took a large swallow. The madeira certainly had a warm and mellowing effect.

“I would like to stake a wager,” said Lord Reckford.

“Of course, of course,” said the Captain cautiously. “Not too high, mind!”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of money,” said the Beau smoothly. “Not from you, that is. I will wager five hundred guineas. What I want from you is a dance—your dance—with Miss Sandford.”

The Captain looked at him in surprise and then a slow, satisfied smile spread over his features. “Surely you can ask her yourself.”

The Beau shook his head. “I am unlucky, you see. Miss Sandford’s dance card is always full even before the ball begins. Come, come Captain. Five hundred guineas is a fair wager.”

The Captain opened his mouth to refuse and then closed it tight. The picture of himself casually discussing Lord Reckford’s madeira danced tantalisingly through his mind. And, By George, he could use five hundred guineas in any case.

“Your hand on if, sir,” he cried. “Let the game commence.”

Half an hour later, the defeated Captain moodily left the house. Why, the man was a master at cards. With his skill, Beau Reckford could earn a fortune playing for gold instead of a dance.

Upstairs Jeremy Holmes laughed at his friend. “Miss Sandford should be flattered. You’ll feel silly if her dance card is half empty!”

“Oh, but I am sure it will not be,” said the Beau. “Miss Sandford has made a point of having her card completely full almost before the ball begins.”

Jeremy looked suddenly worried. “You know, what you are about to do to Miss Sandford is downright criminal.”

“I know,” drawled his companion. “But it certainly takes the boredom out of life.”

Henrietta paused at the doorway of the ballroom and surveyed the scene. She was wearing a white satin slip of a dress with a black lace overdress with long tight sleeves. Diamonds blazed at her throat and wrists and her heavy blonde hair was piled high on her head in a confusion of artfully arranged curls. Behind her stood Miss Scattersworth in a severe burgundy gown and with a matching turban covering her offending greenish hair. It was one of the few times of late that Miss Mattie had dressed in keeping with her years and, as a result, looked considerably younger.

The couples swirled and dipped before Henrietta’s sad eyes. Their gaiety seemed to remove them a world away. She breathed in the now familiar Brighton ballroom air of wax candles, scent, pomade, sweat, fish and poor drainage and moved forward across the floor.

She gave a nervous start and dropped her fan as Lord Reckford seemed to materialize in front of her. In the hope of a last dance with him, she had made sure that her dance card was half empty. He took it from her and gave a cynical laugh. “What has happened this evening? I was sure that the gallant Captain would have claimed you for every dance.”