Meridon (Wideacre Trilogy 3) (44 page)

I thought of him riding back to Sussex, in a rage; alone. And I wanted to speak with him, to take back the things I had said which I had not meant. I thought of the weal of the riding whip which had come up on his cheek and though I had known blows and bruises a-plenty, I felt that this single blow was the worst I had ever known. And it had been from my hand.

I was too rough, I was too wild. I was wrong for Perry, I was a foul-mouthed little pauper, no match for Perry’s delicacy. But I was too hard for Will. It was all wrong. I belonged where I had been raised, down among the fighters and the swearers, where you lived by your wits and your fists, and you never loved anybody.

Dear Will,

You are right, they have trapped me. I thought I was so
clever and I thought I was winning my way through to the life I wanted to lead. But I was wrong and they caught me while I thought I was catching them. They have caught me – all of them. The Haverings and the Quality and the lords and ladies and the life we live in London. I have been a fool Will and I have to pay for it.

Not Perry. I know you hate him because he is what he is – a drunkard and a gamester and a fool. But he is also like a child, he is not a cheat. He loves me Will, and he needs me. And his love for me and his trust in me will make me a better person, a kinder woman. If I stay with Perry I may learn to love him as a woman ought to be able to love a man. If I stay with Perry I think I can rescue him from his folly, and myself from my coldness. I think I can get him away, away to the country, and we will find some way of treating each other with tenderness and love. He will do as I wish. He will run Havering as I order, and I shall run Wideacre. And then we can do the things which you have wanted all along. I know I was wrong to suspect you, and James Fortescue. I have met Quality rogues now, and I understand how they work. I know you are not liars and cheats, not you, not James, not all the people at Acre. I shall come home to you, with Perry, and everything can be different. We can run the whole Havering-Wideacre estate as you would wish, as a corporation, and you will see that Perry is a good man. You will come to like him Will.

I am sorry that I have been so foolish about you, and about Becky. I will try to be glad about that, glad that you love her. I have been selfish I think. I did not know that there was that between you, I should have guessed – I lived in a wagon long enough! I just did not think. I am sorry. I feel foolish that I did not think, but I am glad that she loves you, and that you love her. I am sorry that I was selfish in asking you to come to London to see me as I did. I was lonely here, in this big city, and I wanted to hear your voice and see your face. But I should have realized that you loved her. I think I have never understood love like that. I warned you quick enough not to love me didn’t I? I was a fool not to know that you would find
someone else. I am glad she loves you, and that you are happy. I hope she will let me come and see her children and you when I am married and come to Wideacre.

Your friend,

Sarah.

I paused then, and put my head in my hands for a long time. I was a slow writer and that muddle of thoughts had taken me an hour to spell out. I flushed with shame at the thought that Will might write very well for all I knew and he might think me ignorant and stupid not to be able to loop my letters and scrawl all over the page.

But then I heard noon strike and my maid tapped on the door and I called for her to go away, that I would be down for breakfast in the instant. And then I laid my head on the paper on the writing table and groaned as if I was injured, knifed to the heart. I felt as sick as a horse and I could not think why. When I thought of the red weal on his cheek and him telling me of his Becky I wanted to throw up my accounts.

I pulled a sheet of notepaper towards me and I knew I was down below the lies, well below the level of anger and pride. Below even the level of trying to be pleasant about his woman. I was down to where I belonged. Where I had always belonged. And down below that. For I was no longer Mamselle Meridon dancing on horseback who was cold as ice. Now I was no longer Meridon the slut horse-tamer who could make her da spit with rage. I was now someone whose name I did not know who was longing, longing, longing for someone to love. Longing for him.

Dear Will,

This is all wrong.

Please do not promise any more to her. Please come back to London. I do not want to marry Perry. I want to be with you. I have loved you and wanted you from the moment I first saw you, that night at Wideacre. Please come for me at once. I beg your pardon for having struck you. You were right, it is no good here. It is hopeless with Perry.

I am sure she is lovely, but I cannot believe you do not love me, and if you do not come for me now, I do not know what I will do. Please come to me. I love you with all my heart.

Sarah.

I took the six pages of notepaper and I screwed them up into a fat ball. I cast them in the fire and I held the poker and watched them burn. I mashed down the clot of embers so that there was nothing left. I turned my back on the fire, I turned my back on the writing desk.

I could not be betrothed to one man and write like that to another. I could not break faith with Perry, I could not abandon Lady Clara without a word. They had treated me well, by their lights, I could not walk away from them as easily as I had walked in.

I would have to wait, wait and plan. I would have to get free, honourably free, before I wrote to Will, before I thought of him again.

I leaned my forehead against the cold thick glass of my window and looked at the grey sky and thought of Will riding home with the scarlet weal from my whip on his cheek. I had no right to strike him, I had no right to make a claim on him. The letters were burned, I would not write another. I would never write to Will. Not in anger, not in love. Our ways lay by different roads. Perhaps one day he would forgive me for the blow. Perhaps one day he would understand.

I rang my bell for my maid to come and dress me in my morning dress.

I could think of nothing else I could do.

I was ill, and it was that which made my eyes seem red and made me so dull at the luncheon.

‘You are cruel!’ lisped Sir Richard Fuller.

I looked at him blankly.

‘Cruel to one who adores you!’ he said smiling. His lips were painted a delicate pink, he had a black patch in the shape of a heart at the corner of his mouth.

‘Yes,’ I said stupidly. ‘I suppose I am.’

He gave his ringing peal of laughter and a couple of old dowagers looked around at us, saw Sir Richard and smiled indulgently.

‘A Diana! A very Diana!’ he cried out.

I shrugged. Half the time in this mannered social world I could not understand a word of what people said to me. The other half I understood well enough but I could not think why they troubled.

‘Do you think I have not seen the newspaper this morning?’ he asked teasingly. ‘I knew it was coming but oh! the blow to my hopes!’

I stared at him again. We were seated in the window seat of the princess’s parlour, looking out towards the park. Will had been right about it being cold. The hoar frost was still white in the sheltered corners, a yellow sun was harsh in the sky.

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.

Sir Richard’s pale eyes danced with malice. ‘About my heartbreak, about my heartbreak!’ he said.

I was no good at this kind of flirting. I sighed and went to get up and walk away from him.

‘I knew you were half promised, but I had no idea he would be so speedy,’ Sir Richard twinkled, putting out a hand to detain me. ‘Have his losses really been so bad?’

‘Perry?’ I said, coming through the maze of innuendo.

‘Of course!’ Sir Richard said limpidly. ‘Who else are you engaged to marry?’

I looked at him blankly and said nothing.

‘Don’t look so surprised, Miss Lacey!’ he begged. ‘You are charming, charming. But I cannot believe that even Perry would post your engagement in the newspaper without consulting you!’

I nodded. Perry was quite capable of it.

‘Which is why I ask!’ Sir Richard cried triumphantly. ‘What freak has Perry taken up now that he must run through your fortune as well as his own? We knew his losses at faro were staggering, but I hear now he is playing piquet like a fiend! And why, heartbreaking Miss Lacey, do you hand your fortune over so readily? Is it love? Do you tell me to abandon all hope?’

I gritted my teeth and got to my feet. ‘You must excuse me, Sir Richard,’ I said politely. I held my embroidered silk morning gown to one side and dipped him a polite curtsey. ‘I see Lady Clara wants me, I must go.’

I crossed over to the other side of the room and stood at Lady Clara’s elbow. She was playing whist with the princess and I waited until she had taken a trick before I interrupted her. I wished her son had half her skill at cards.

‘Perry’s put our engagement in the
Morning Post,’
I said in her ear.

Her face never changed. She should have worked as a gull sharper in the taverns. She was wasting her talents on rooking Quality spendthrifts like the princess.

‘I did not see,’ she said softly. ‘You don’t object, do you?’

‘He might have told me,’ I said. ‘I have had Sir Richard Fuller raking me over. I looked a fool.’

Lady Clara nodded. ‘He should have told you indeed,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you warned me. There he is, speak to him yourself.’

I glanced up. Perry was coming through the crowd of people who were standing near the door by the buffet table. As he came through with a smile and a word for many of them, he caught my eye and he beamed at me and came to my side.

‘Sarah!’ he said. ‘I thought I’d find you here. Have you seen the newspaper this morning? We are in! Isn’t that nice! I gave them an extra guinea to get it in at once!’

He kissed my hand, and then, at his mother’s nod, drew me closer and kissed my cheek gently. His touch was cool, my cheek was hot.

‘Why the hurry?’ I asked.

He grinned roguishly. ‘Come now,’ he said. ‘You know that yourself. I was all out of credit at the start of this week and now they are falling over themselves to lend to me.’ He beamed. ‘And the cream of the jest is that I don’t need the money now!’

I kept the false smile pinned on my face and I nodded as if he were telling me excellent news.

‘I’m finished with gaming anyway,’ he said. ‘We’ll marry as soon as the banns are called – in a fortnight – and then we’ll go down to the country and live like fat old squires. As you wish, Sarah. Just as you wish.’

If half a dozen curious people had not been watching us I think I would have wept. I was so tired from my sleepless night and my throat was so tight. And the memory of Will riding from me in a rage, riding back to Becky and that safe little cottage made my head throb.

‘Good,’ I said. I would never live in a cottage with Will Tyacke. I would never love him as his Becky did. I would never lie in his arms at night. But I had learned how to love a man and some of that love I could give to Perry. We were young, we would find many good things to do together. And if we could farm the land well, and make Wideacre and Havering good places to live and work, we would have done something more than any squires or lords before us had ever done.

‘Don’t play piquet,’ I said.

Perry shook his head. ‘Not a card,’ he replied. ‘You look tired, Sarah, and you are all hot. Why don’t I take you home?’

I shook my head. ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Your mama…’

Perry smiled at me. ‘I am your engaged husband-to-be,’ he said with a joking little play at dignity. ‘I think you should come home and rest. You are to be out tonight, are you not? And you
hardly slept at all last night! Come on. I shall tell Mama that you must rest.’

I was about to tell him ‘no’ but the truth indeed was that I was tired, and I longed to be away from that bright room with the tinkling chandelier above the hard laughing faces. I thought I would see Perry try his paces. It was the first time I had ever seen him go against his mama’s wishes. I wanted to see if he could do it.

He walked up to the table and leaned over her shoulder. Lady Clara’s look was impatient but the dowagers who were playing cards with her all leaned forward to hear the exchange between her and her son and I saw her glacial social smile smooth away her irritation. She nodded sweetly enough, and then she waved her hand to me. Perry threaded his way back towards me and offered me his arm with a cheeky grin.

‘Tally ho!’ he said. ‘We’re away!’

I smiled back at him though my eyelids felt heavy. ‘You stood up to your mama,’ I said.

Perry smoothed both lapels with a braggart’s gesture. ‘I’m the fiancé of one of the richest women in London!’ he said with a flourish. ‘I’d like to see anyone get in my way.’

I laughed at that, despite my throbbing head. And I took his arm and we went to bid our farewells to the princess. Sir Richard was bending over her chair as we came up and he smiled at me under his arched eyebrows.

‘Rushing off to snatch a few moments together alone?’ he asked acidly.

The princess laughed and tapped him over the knuckles with her fan. Her jowls wobbled, her little eyes sparkled. ‘Now, Sir Richard!’ she said in her deep fruity voice. ‘Don’t tease the young people. Shall I see you at Court tomorrow night my dear?’ she asked me.

I curtseyed to what I thought was the right depth. ‘No, your highness,’ I said. ‘We don’t go. I am going at the end of this month.’

‘As the new Lady Havering!’ Sir Richard said. ‘How ravishing you will look in the Havering diamonds!’

My stomach lurched as guiltily as if it had been me who had taken them and my face fell, but Perry let us down altogether. He exploded into giggles and had to whip out his monogrammed handkerchief and turn it into a cough. We shuffled away from the princess in disarray and got ourselves out of the door to where we could collapse in the hall out of earshot.

‘How did he know?’ I demanded.

Perry leaned against the blue silk-lined wall until he could catch his breath. ‘Oh, Lord knows!’ he said carelessly. ‘It’s the sort of thing that gets around. Just as well I got them back though, Sarah!’

‘Just as well,’ I said faintly.

Our coach was ready at the door and Perry helped me in. I dug my hands deep inside my fur muff and lifted it up to my face to sniff the warm smell of the pelt.

‘Have a nip of this,’ Perry offered, pulling his hip-flask out of his pocket.

I sipped it cautiously. It hit the back of my throat and burned like fire.

‘What is it?’ I said, my eyes watering.

‘Hollands gin and brandy,’ Perry said, swigging at the flask. ‘All the rage. We call it Dutch and French. Takes your head off, don’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

The carriage swayed forward, the wheels sliding without gripping on the ice between the cobbles.

I nodded and laid my head back against the cushions of the coach. I shut my eyes and dozed. When the carriage pulled up I had to lean on Perry’s arm to get up the stairs into the house and then Sewell, my maid, was waiting to help me change into an afternoon gown.

‘I’m not driving,’ I said. My throat had tightened even more and I was hoarse.

She looked at me. ‘You look unwell, Miss Sarah,’ she said. ‘Shall I fetch you a posset? Should you like a rest?’

I paused for a moment, looking at the bed with the clean white sheets. The girl I had been could walk all day behind a
wagon and then ride horses for a living all evening. Now I was tired in my body and weary deep into my very soul.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Undo the buttons at the back here, and I’ll take a nap, I’m not promised anywhere until this evening.’

I climbed between the cool sheets and sat up and sipped the posset she brought me. I slept at once but jerked awake when she came to stoke my fire.

‘It’s five o’clock, Miss Sarah,’ she said. ‘Her ladyship has come in and changed and gone out again. She said you and Lord Peregrine could follow her in the second carriage. I told her you were lying down.’

I nodded. I pushed back the sheets but they seemed heavy, my arms were weak. I put my feet down to the floorboards and the very wood seemed to sway beneath me.

‘I have a fever, Sewell,’ I said stupidly. ‘I’m not well enough to go. Ask Lord Peregrine to take my apologies. I shall stay in bed tonight and be well tomorrow.’

My eyelids were hot. I fell back against the pillows.

‘Will you dine up here?’ she asked indifferently.

‘No,’ I said. Poor little hungry wretch that I had been. I felt now that I never wanted to eat again. ‘No. Bring me some lemonade and then leave me to sleep please.’

I heard her rattle the fire irons in the grate and then I heard the floorboard creak as she crossed the room for the door. I dimly heard her voice speaking to Perry and then the sound came and went in my ears like the sound of the sea, like the sounds of the waves that last day at Selsey.

Then I fell asleep again and I dreamed that I was not in London at all. It was a dream of the fever all fractured and short with strange frightening ideas lost in the darkness as I struggled awake and was rid of them, then they came back when I was drowsy again. I thought I was back in the wagon and I was calling and calling for her to bring me a mug of water. My throat was parched and I was so afraid it was the typhus and I was going to die. In the dream I could see her humped back and hear my thin child’s voice begging her to wake and fetch me a mug. I was disturbed because I was feverish. I did not know myself.
In the fever dream I thought that I was angry that she had not wakened for me, and I called out to her: ‘I’ve waked for you often enough, you lazy slut!’ And I thought of all the times I had waked for her and served her, and how she had repaid me with a smile and perhaps a touch, but often with nothing at all. And, though it was like the tines of a rake over my heart, I thought that there were many and many times when she had taken much from me and given nothing in return. That she was a selfish young silly tart, and if she had listened to me she would not have gone up the ladder that day. If she had listened to me she would not have tried to trap a lad who was not fit to wed. If she had had anything in her head but vanity and wind she would have seen that she was sailing gaily down the wrong road, the worst road of all. And if she had listened she would not be dead now, and I would not be ill now, ill and lonely and so out of joint with myself that I was all wrong.

All wrong too.

And so wrong that I could not tell who I was nor what I should be doing.

I struggled awake with that, and reached out in the darkness for the lemonade. It was night then, night and going on for dawn. Someone had brought me a drink while I slept. Someone had made up the fire again. Some time in the night I had reached out for the glass and drained it for it was empty and the jug half full. In the cold grey light of the early morning before sun-up I was able to see enough to sit up in my bed and pour the drink.

It was icy. It made me shiver as if a finger of snow had passed down my throat into my very belly. I gulped it down to sate my thirst and then I huddled back down under the covers again. I was cold, chilled and cold. But when I put my hand to my forehead I found I was burning hot.

I knew I was ill then, and I knew that the dream of her, of seeing her as a fool and a cruel fool at that, was part of my illness. I had to hold to the things I knew. I had to remember her as she had been, my beloved. I had to hold on to Perry as I knew he could be, a careless youth who would grow into a good
man. I had to remember that Will Tyacke was an angry, vindictive working man who had done very well out of my land and was now taking himself off in a rage, and good riddance to him.

I shivered in the grey coldness of the early morning. I had to hold on to those things or I did not know what would happen. If I opened my mind just a little crack, to the doubts and uncertainties, I would lose my memory of her and my love for her, I would lose my certain future.

‘I want to be Lady Havering,’ I croaked into the still cold air of the room. ‘I want to farm Havering and Wideacre together. I want to be the greatest landowner in the county. I want everyone to know who I am.’