Langdown Manor (20 page)

I was so lost in my thoughts that I was surprised to hear Baxter's knock. My anger at David had subsided and I even felt a tiny flicker of pride. I'd had a proposal – in my very first season. And, whatever Flo thought, I knew that any number of girls would have been eager to accept David's proposal.

‘Yes, what is it, Baxter?' I said.

‘Didn't you hear it, Miss Polly? The gong has gone for lunch.'

Was it that time already? I leapt up.

‘Sit down and let me do your hair, miss. It's a bit wild.'

I dabbed at it vaguely. ‘Is it?'

‘Yes, miss, sit down and I'll do it properly for you.'

I sat down obediently at the dressing table. I looked at myself in the mirror. Baxter was right. It was a bit wild. Flo was too well bred to have said anything, of course, but neither had anyone else. It was as if the morning's excitement had banished such important matters as appearance from our minds.

I felt Baxter's nimble fingers take out the pins that should have held my hair in place.

‘What happened to it, miss?' she said.

‘Did you see the plane, Baxter?' I asked.

She smiled. ‘Yes, Miss Polly, I saw it come down and then go up again – more than once, too. Someone said that the pilot was one of the guests.'

‘It was. He took me up. I got a bit windblown, I expect.'

‘Miss Polly!' Baxter gasped.

‘You should try it, Baxter,' I said, as if to fly in a plane was the sort of thing you did every day.

‘You'd never get me up in one of those things, thank you, miss!' Baxter shuddered.

As soon as she had finished I hastened downstairs, slipping into the dining room just as the door was closing. I'd wanted to enter without anyone noticing but by being late I'd made myself conspicuous. Everyone looked up. There was one vacant place – next to Ferdy, of course. But beyond asking if I had everything I wanted, Ferdy was too nervous to say much to me. David, I was relieved to see, was at the far end of the table, on one side of Arabella. She shot me a triumphant glance, and I felt sure she had arranged for him to sit next to her. I amused myself wondering what she'd think if she knew that David had proposed to me. He was paying her a lot of attention. As we sipped our coffee afterwards I heard her say that she had enjoyed her flight enormously – and how she was longing to fly again. It had certainly added to her popularity. A group of guests not brave enough to fly had gathered round her. I wished I could think of an excuse to leave – I was weary of hearing her boast. But when a footman came to tell us that the horses were ready, if we'd like to make our way to the stables, I was in a quandary. I'd told Baxter to put out my riding clothes, but now I found I couldn't bear it if Fred saw Ferdy and me together again. When Ferdy came up to me, as I knew he would, I told him I was too weary to ride. He did his best to hide his disappointment. ‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘Please make my excuses.'

‘I wi-wi-will, of course, Miss Penelope,' he said.

As the party began to break up, I picked up a book. David had remained behind, too, and I prayed he wouldn't pester me again. But I needn't have worried. He had settled himself down near Arabella, leaning over the back of her chair and laughing at her remarks. If it was an attempt to pique me it failed.

I kept my head in my book, turning the pages as if I was very interested in it, but I could hardly focus on it at all. My boredom was intense, and I felt my resentment grow. If it weren't for them, I'd have been on Starshine now, riding across the fields, Fred by my side. I put the book down. After the big lunch I was beginning to feel sleepy. I felt my eyelids droop.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw that most of the guests had departed and the room was quiet except for the chatter of some of the older guests. I must have fallen asleep.

I glanced at the clock; it was almost time for tea. I still felt sleepy. A walk in the fresh air would wake me up. I had just time for a stroll before the riders returned.

Sam, the hall boy, opened the door for me and I walked down the steps. At the bottom I turned right, rather than left, to the ornamental gardens. There I ran no risk of running into returning riders, and I could avoid Ferdy's unwelcome attentions for a little while longer. I strolled along a winding gravel path that led to the Elizabethan knot garden. It was pleasant there, and there was a stone bench I could sit on and look out across the gardens to the rolling hills beyond.

I turned into the knot garden. The bench was already occupied. David and Arabella were sitting on it side by side. David was whispering something in Arabella's ear, then he took her face in both hands and gave her a kiss.

They couldn't have heard my gasp, but they must have felt my presence. They both looked up. David flushed red, but he quickly recovered himself. I saw a slow smile spread over Arabella's face.
So – you see that it is not just you who has admirers.
Let her savour this moment while she could; it wouldn't be for long. I walked up to them.

‘You can forget your proposal of marriage, David,' I said.

I glanced at Arabella. She looked stunned, but nothing it seemed could disturb her composure for long. She gave a little laugh. ‘Surely you don't think I care?' she said, but I saw her shift slightly away from David.

‘No,' I said, ‘I don't think you do. I don't think you care about anyone – either of you.'

I turned on my heel.

‘Wait!' David said.

I turned back, expecting a plea for forgiveness, or at least some sign that he felt sorry. But he was smiling. How could he!

‘Surely you don't object to a little harmless flirtation?'

What
had he said? I shivered, as if a cold blast of air had suddenly swept through me. I felt as if I had seen into his heart, and I knew, as clearly as if he had told me, what marriage to him would truly be like.

‘Do you really think I'd consider marrying you now!' We were talking to each other as if Arabella didn't exist. She looked at me with hate. I felt sure that she'd never forgive me.

‘We'll see, shall we?' His eyes looked into mine. I felt as if he'd thrown down a challenge, but I had no intention of picking it up.

‘Flirt with whom you like, David, it means nothing to me,' I said. I turned quickly away from them. I heard him laugh.

I walked on, hardly knowing where I was. I had to try to calm myself before I could go in to tea. At least I no longer needed to bother about David – heartless David. Flo had been right about him, and I had been right when I'd said that they didn't care about anyone but themselves. They suited each other.

I made my way into the drawing room. The footmen were laying out trays on tables with steaming teapots and china cups. Aunt saw me and beckoned me to her side. ‘You haven't been riding, Penelope?'

I shook my head. ‘I was too tired. But I've been out in the fresh air and I feel better now.' I sat down beside her. She gave me a searching look. Did the strain I still felt show on my face?

‘How did you enjoy your flight?' she asked.

‘Very much. He is a capable pilot, and I felt quite safe.'

Aunt gave me another thoughtful look. Was she trying to draw me out? She must have observed David's attentions to me. But if she had she wasn't inclined to explore further.

‘If I hadn't thought so, I'd never have let you up with him,' was all she said.

The footmen moved amongst us, handing out teacups and plates. David and Arabella had still not returned. A tiny frown settled on Aunt's face. ‘Did you see Arabella while you were out?' she asked. ‘She should be here to help me look after our guests. I wonder…' She glanced up at the clock. ‘Yes, she should be here by now.'

‘She may have forgotten the time,' I suggested. ‘She was in the garden earlier.'

‘It seems that she has,' Aunt said, dryly. She got up and tugged the bellrope. Barrett answered at once. I wondered what Aunt was saying to him. ‘
Be so good as to send a servant to the garden to inform Miss Arabella that it is time for tea.
' What would Aunt say if they were found together? I'd like to see Arabella attempt to explain herself. What sweet revenge that would be!

I finished my cup of tea. Aunt had drifted away to talk to Lady Waterlow, and Flo took her seat by my side. ‘You didn't ride then?' she asked me.

‘No,' I said, toying with my teacup. ‘I didn't feel like riding this afternoon.'

I said it in such a way that she wouldn't say anything more. I looked around at the guests, idly chatting and gossiping as they sipped their cups of tea. Was this all that life was to hold for me? Just this – day after day? For ever? I felt panic rise inside me again. I felt trapped – a bird in a gilded cage. Was this how Mother had felt? No wonder she had fled.

‘Doesn't all this bore you, Flo?' I found myself saying suddenly.

She looked bewildered. ‘I don't understand.'

No, I thought, you don't. Marjorie would. She would understand how wrong I felt among these people. I gave Flo a rueful smile. ‘I'm sorry, Flo, I'm not myself today.'

‘Well, you had a proposal this morning, Polly. It would be surprising if you didn't feel … well … unsettled,' she said gently.

‘I'm not going to marry him, Flo,' I said.
Oh, what made me say that?
Flo was beaming at me as if I'd handed her a present. Did she truly think that I'd turned David down for her brother? And here he was, sidling up to us, flushed and hopeful. I put my cup down. ‘I … I have something I have to do. Excuse me.' I made a dash for the door. I'd been rude, but I didn't care. I was halfway to the stairs when a door off the hall opened. Arabella was standing there. Her eyelids were red and swollen. I could see that she had been crying. I'd never seen Arabella cry before. I didn't think she knew how.

‘You,' she said. ‘How could you?'

‘It is David you should blame, not me,' I said.

She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘That wasn't what I meant. You told Mother where I was.'

Her moist eyes glared accusingly at me.

I felt a glimmer of guilt. But I banished it. I couldn't forget how often she'd gloated over me, the numerous petty unkindnesses. ‘She asked if I had seen you,' I said coldly. I could feel my dislike of her increase with every second I stood there.

‘Why did you come here?' she said. ‘Why didn't you stay in – in India?' She spat out the word as if it tasted unpleasant.

‘I didn't choose to come here,' I said, stepping back up the stairs. We were standing a good few yards apart, but it wasn't far enough for me. Her resentment seemed to breathe at me from every corner – to be woven into the very fabric of the house itself. I remembered how unwelcoming I'd always found it. So much of that was to do with Arabella. ‘I'd leave today, if I could.'

‘Oh you would, would you?' she said. ‘I don't think so.' Her cold grey eyes glinted maliciously.

I fought down the panic that threatened to overcome me. She was guessing. She couldn't know about Fred and me. It was power Arabella sought, power over me. I kept my face as still as I could. I would not let her see how I felt.

‘Arabella,' I said at last, ‘if you have something to say, say it.'

She smiled – again, that cold reptilian smile.
The snake bites only when it is threatened or afraid.
We held each other's eyes. It was Arabella who dropped hers first. She gave a little laugh and walked away. I looked after her departing back. I wanted to go to the window, and fling it open to blow away the malice I felt all around me. I went slowly on up the stairs. I felt exhausted, as if I'd fought a battle. Arabella I knew would never forgive me. She stored up insults the way others stored compliments.

What was I to do?
If I married Ferdy…
I tried to imagine myself as Ferdy's wife. Ferdy was good and kind, and I would never have to see Arabella again. But it was hopeless. I just couldn't imagine it at all. I couldn't marry Ferdy, just to escape from Arabella. There was only one person I wanted to be with – but the prospect of that seemed further away than ever.

‘Miss P-Penelope?'

I wheeled round at the sound of Ferdy's voice. ‘Yes, what is it?' I said, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. I was weary of the way he'd been following me about, like a puppy behind its master. How could I ever have thought I could marry him?

‘I-I have something I want to say to you…' He looked almost as if he was in tears as he struggled for words. ‘A-a-alone, please.'

It was coming. I felt sure of it. He was going to propose. I had hoped to spare him this. I'd said nothing to encourage him. He must know what my answer would be.

‘Ferdy, I don't think you do,' I said. I wondered if Flo had told him that I had turned David down. She had looked so happy. I was afraid that she had, and that she had encouraged Ferdy to hope. Flo was so attached to her brother that she couldn't understand how anyone might not feel the same.

‘Please,' he said, humbly.

I nodded. He opened the door to the morning room. I walked in ahead of him, and sat down on a chair. He stood in front of me nervously.

‘Miss P-Penelope. Penelope,' he said again.

‘Yes, Ferdy.'

‘Wou-wou-would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?' The words tumbled out as if he was hardly in control of them at all. I could hear how exasperated he was with himself as he struggled to express himself. Poor Ferdy, I thought.

‘It's a great honour…'
What was I saying?
I looked up at him. He looked desperate. This was going to be harder than I'd thought. Forget the formal words, I thought. Just say it.

‘Ferdy, I can't marry you.'

He looked at me as if I'd driven a knife into him. I'd wounded him cruelly, but I hadn't wanted to. I'd never thought that he'd mind so much. ‘I'm so sorry, Ferdy.' I felt tears spring to my eyes.

‘Ca-ca-.' Again he was struggling with the words. His face was flushed. ‘Can't you … can't you think about it?' He looked at me pleadingly. ‘Everyone wishes it. My sister. Your uncle and aunt.'

‘Oh, Ferdy, this has nothing to do with them,' I said. ‘This is about you and me.'

I just could not understand why he wanted to marry me.

‘Ferdy,' I said, as gently as I could. ‘We wouldn't be happy, you know. We're too different. I don't want to be a countess and spend the rest of my days being waited on, going to parties, to Ascot and Goodwood,' I said vaguely, hardly knowing what I was saying. ‘You couldn't give me the life I want. I want to travel. I want to see the world – have adventures.'

‘We could t-travel,' he pleaded. ‘I am rich. We could go wherever you wanted.'

I shook my head. ‘No, Ferdy.' He hadn't understood. I could never marry him. He was too young, too untried. And I felt he always would be. Birth and money would always protect him from adversity – from life itself.

‘I love you,' he said. ‘I loved you from the first moment I saw you.'

Oh, Ferdy. No, you don't. That's not love. You don't know me, you haven't even tried to get to know me. You'd grow to hate me, before you were ever able to love me.

‘But I don't love you, Ferdy,' I said. ‘I don't love you – at least not in the way I need to love you to marry you. I am so fond of you, Ferdy … but…' I sought for what to say, ‘like a brother.'

‘A little brother?' he muttered.

‘A very dear brother.'

‘There's someone else, isn't there?' He looked at me. I realized he was no longer stammering now that he was so much in earnest.

But why wouldn't he give up? Did he think that because he was rich he could have whomever he wanted?

‘This is about us, Ferdy. You and me.' I couldn't think what else to say. I was getting weary. I stood up. ‘I am very grateful to you, Ferdy. I hope that we will always be friends.' I held out my hand. He barely touched it.

I opened the door and quietly let myself out. In the hall I stopped. Aunt was standing there, an expectant smile on her face.

‘Well,' she said. I felt sure she knew that Ferdy had proposed – and had no doubt about the outcome.

‘I can't marry him, Aunt,' I said.

She looked astounded. I had turned down the future Earl Waterlow.

‘I don't love him, Aunt. I can't marry someone I don't love.' I tried to walk past her but she came after me.

‘Ferdy Waterlow could give you a very good home. What more do you want?' she said as if I hadn't told her.

‘Someone I love,' I said defiantly.

‘Love,' said Aunt half to herself. ‘Just like her mother.'

How could she? How could she?

I burst into tears.

‘Penelope,' she said gently. ‘I am sorry. Let us talk about this quietly. Come!' She held out her hand. I wouldn't take it.

‘Go away,' I sobbed. ‘You don't care about me. You never have. You don't even try to understand me.'

Aunt looked dumbfounded. I didn't care. I ran up the stairs to my room. I couldn't stay there. I had to get away before they broke me – before the fate Mother had avoided became mine.

I hurried from door to chest to wardrobe, flinging a few things into a small dressing case, tears still running down my face. I unlocked the case where I kept Mother's things. There were the letters… I barely hesitated before tearing open the envelope of the oldest one. I recognized Aunt's handwriting. Some of the words were too faded for me to read. But the meaning was clear enough.

Dear Penelope
, I read.
Your letter wounded me deeply. Surely you can see that we can never receive Alan here. The family was deeply insulted by your marriage. However, you are my sister and I love you as my sister. If ever you change your mind … that country is a dangerous unsafe place in which to bring up a child…
'

Even then Aunt could not bring herself to write the word – India. I sat with the letter in my lap. I looked at the date. It had been written about the time I was born. So Aunt had offered to have me brought up in England, or to be a home to Mother and me if she chose to leave Father. What sort of choice was that? I felt proud that Mother had spurned it. So what had made her change her mind? Why had she agreed in the end to send me here? Aunt had told me it was her dying wish. That Mother had regretted her decision to marry Father and run away with him to India. Let her think that if she wanted to. I hadn't believed her then, and I still didn't. I picked up another letter – the most recent one – and scanned it hastily.

I grieve to hear of your sickness and pray daily for your recovery. I have always regretted that you did not return to England…

There! She hated India. What other proof did I need?

My offer to take the girl remains open. Please will you consider it? What if sickness were to claim her, too?

‘What if sickness were to claim her, too?'
Was that why Mother had agreed to let me go? Had Aunt planted that fear in her?
A young lady needs a lady's example
, Father had said. But had that been the truth – the whole truth?

I'd probably never know, but deep down I felt certain it had never been Mother's dying wish to send me to England. At best she'd felt she had no choice.

But I did. I had a choice.

I stuffed the letters back into their envelopes and left them on the bed. When I'd gone, Aunt would find them and she would know why I had gone now, too. I didn't need to leave a note. Those letters were explanation enough.

I went to the door, and opened it. I almost fell into Baxter.

‘Miss Polly?' She looked at my tear-stained face, at the dressing case in my hands. At the coat over my arm.

‘Baxter,' I said. ‘I'm going out.'

‘What – with a case, miss?' she said. ‘Oh no, Miss Polly.' She put a hand out to stop me.

I burst into tears again. ‘Let me go! I must go.'

She took my arm. ‘What's wrong? Where are you going? Please wait!'

‘No.' I shook her off. ‘No, I can't.'

I pushed past her and ran to the top of the stairs. I hurtled down them, not caring who saw me. One of the footmen opened the door for me. I don't know what he thought. I didn't stop to think.

I ran round to the stables.

Fred was there, but he wasn't alone. He was talking to the head groom. Did it matter now if anyone saw us together? But I made myself slip back out of sight until the groom had gone, then I called softly to Fred. He wheeled round. His eyes fell on me, on the dressing case, on the coat over my arm.

‘What's happened?' he whispered. ‘Are you going away? You look…' He shook his head bewilderedly.

I know. I look like a mad person. I feel like a mad person.

His eyes were anxious and strained.

‘Are you going away?' he asked me again. ‘Please – tell me.'

‘Yes I am – with you.'

He looked startled. I'd thought he'd smile. I'd thought I'd said what he'd always wanted to hear. I was prepared to give up my life at Langdown Manor to be with him.

‘No, look, something's happened, hasn't it? We'd better talk.'

‘Yes,' I said urgently. ‘I must talk to you.'

‘It will have to be Starshine's stall,' he said. His calmness soothed me. I could feel that my hair was coming down in places, and I tucked some stray hairs back behind my ears.

‘That's better,' he said. I could see that he was completely perplexed. Soon, soon I'd explain. He'd understand. He had to. I'd make him.

I followed him into Starshine's stall. He leaned back against the wall and looked at me, waiting for me to speak.

‘Fred,' I said. ‘I've had a proposal. I turned it down, but Aunt…' I turned my face away. ‘She wants me to marry him. I can't marry him. He's like a boy. I feel as if they'll put me in a cage. I feel…'

Was anything I was saying making any sense to him? He still looked so bewildered.

‘If it's because of me…' he said.

I felt cold creep through me from my toes to my head. Was he saying he didn't care? ‘It's not just about you,' I said. ‘It's about the life they want me to live. I can't marry him. I can't marry any of them. I can't stay here, Fred! They don't care about me. They don't understand me. My cousin Arabella hates me…' I began to weep.

‘Oh, Polly,' he said.

I was still clinging to the dressing case. I felt Fred take it from me. His arms were about me. He stroked my hair. I wiped my eyes.

‘Oh, Fred, can't we just leave? Now?' I looked at him beseechingly. ‘What is there to keep us here anyway now?'

‘We can't!' he exclaimed. ‘You know that. How would we live?'

‘I have some money. We could go to India,' I said eagerly. ‘Father would help us.'

‘Polly.' Fred took my hands in his. ‘I'm not living off anyone. I want to make my own way in the world.'

‘We can make it together,' I said. There had to be places where no one would care who we were or where we came from. Where hard work, energy and endeavour were respected more than social rank and wealth.

He shook his head. ‘We can't leave – just like this.' I felt tears start to my eyes again. He stroked my cheek. I took his hand and kept it there. ‘I know you're upset. But, Polly, they cannot make you marry anyone you don't want to. Really, they can't.' He shook my hand gently. ‘You don't have to marry anyone ever, if you don't want to.'

‘What am I to do? I can't stay here!'

‘Polly,' he said, ‘I've been thinking a lot about us. We're both so young.' I was beginning to feel as if I'd proposed and he'd turned me down. ‘Now that Mam's dead…' He swallowed. I knew how painful it was for him to say those words, for I found it painful, too. ‘…and the children are at Uncle's, I'm free to make my own choices. I was going to tell you this soon anyway.' He hesitated. ‘I'm leaving Langdown. I'm going away – far away.'

I'm going away.
What was he saying? Couldn't he take me with him? How could he even think of leaving me behind?

‘On your own?' I managed to whisper.

‘On my own. Polly, I'm going abroad – to Africa. I want to look about me, find a job…'

I was feeling almost as if I had stepped into the past, as if it was Mother and Father who were talking, not Fred and me. I pushed the thought away. That was the past – their past. Not us, not our future. That still lay ahead.

‘Can't I come with you?'

Mother had run away with Father.

He shook his head. ‘No, Poll. It would be too dangerous. I don't know where I'll be sleeping, under a bush probably. Or if we'd even have enough to eat. Can't you see that it's impossible?'

Then why did he have to go away? Didn't he love me? I could never leave him so easily.