Parfit Knight (11 page)

He said, ‘No.
Tomorrow – as early as possible. Make what arrangements you can for
Chard’s comfort and leave out my driving coat and top boots.’

Still at a
loss, Saunders said weakly, ‘You’ll drive yourself then, sir?’

Amberley
wheeled to face him. ‘Obviously. Unless you feel equal to the
task?’

If the
sarcastic tone came as a shock, the look on his lordship’s face was
a greater one. A white shade tinged the normally humorous mouth and
the grey-green eyes were frowning bleakly. Thrown completely off
balance, Saunders made the mistake of answering the question. ‘No,
my lord. But I thought you might stay a few days longer till the
snow’s more or less gone.’

The Marquis
lost his last, frail hold on his temper and his voice took on a
note of dangerous sweetness as he said, ‘Did you so? Then perhaps I
should remind you that you are paid neither to think nor to
question my orders. Especially – though it would seem to have
escaped your notice – when I am waiting to dress.’

He was dimly
aware, as he turned away, that never in fifteen years had he spoken
to Saunders like that – and rarely to anyone else. But though later
he would be ashamed and would apologise, as yet it did not have the
power to touch him for his whole focus was on avoiding
discussion.

He announced
his decision to Rosalind soon after breakfast and the violet eyes
filled with startled dismay. ‘So soon?’

‘I’m afraid so,
yes.’

‘But the snow
hasn’t quite gone, has it?’

‘Not entirely.’
He knew he sounded abrupt and tried to mend it. ‘It will be some
days before it vanishes completely and, by then, the roads will be
like quagmires. Just now, they’re bad but not impassable.’

‘Oh. You’ve
been out?’

‘No. I had
Lawson send out a groom early this morning.’

She smiled
faintly. ‘Like Noah.’

Even mild
attempts at humour were beyond Amberley this morning and he was
momentarily at a loss. Then he said lamely, ‘Oh – the raven.
Yes.’

This
uncharacteristic response brought a crease to Rosalind’s brow.

‘No. The raven
didn’t come back.’ She tilted her head and a wry smile touched her
mouth. ‘Your groom was like the dove. But I think I’d have
preferred the raven.’

His lordship’s
breath leaked away and he stared at her helplessly whilst telling
himself that this was no more than he should have expected. Then,
as he sought desperately for a reply, reinforcements arrived in the
shape of Lawson. Mistress Vernon, it seemed, had visitors.

‘Lady Warriston
and Letty?’ echoed Rosalind blankly. ‘Good God! What on earth do
you suppose they want, Lawson?’

‘I really
couldn’t say, Mistress Rosalind.’ The butler contrived to
camouflage with reproof what was, in fact, a blatant lie - whilst
simultaneously casting the Marquis a glance of acute warning.
‘Shall I show the ladies in?’

She sighed. ‘I
suppose so. And you’d better ask Mrs Thorne to send up some
suitable refreshments.’ Lawson bowed and withdrew and Rosalind
turned back to Amberley with a swift whisper of, ‘She is the most
odious
woman!’ before her guests were at the door.

At any other
time, the Marquis would probably have found the next hour hugely
entertaining for Lady Warriston was neither intelligent nor
particularly well-bred and he had her measure inside five minutes.
Wife of the local magistrate to whom he had sent word of the
highwayman’s corpse, she had learned of the presence at Oakleigh of
a real, live Marquis and had only been kept at home so long by the
snow. Now she had come primarily to discover as much as she could
for the delectation of her neighbours and also for the purpose of
contriving that the real, live Marquis should meet her
daughter.

In between
helping Rosalind answer her ladyship’s questions with a semblance
of candour that, in fact, said very little, the Marquis toyed with
the incomprehensible idiocy that allowed even a fond Mama to
suppose that any man was going to look twice at Mistress Letitia
while Rosalind was in the room. Letty put him in mind of an
over-blown rose and would, he thought, grow up with as little
elegance of mind as her mother. Then he became aware that both
ladies were treating Rosalind with a brand of condescension which
suggested they thought her of no account; and from there the reason
was not far to seek.

A slow, cold
anger began to burn in Amberley’s breast and, from that point on,
his manner became progressively haughtier and his answers to Lady
Warriston’s impertinent enquiries much less amicably couched. And
when she cut Rosalind out of the conversation by talking of London
and bemoaning the fact that he had been in Paris during ‘dearest
Letty’s season’ and so missed the pleasure of dancing with her, he
resolved to teach them both a lesson.

Directing an
indifferent yet somehow mocking glance at Letty, he said,
languidly, ‘I am afraid I never dance.’

Startled out of
her discretion by this blithe disregard for the truth, Rosalind
said incautiously, ‘But you danced with me.’

‘Ah.’ He smiled
suddenly. ‘With
you
, my dear. That is different.’ And
watched with derisive amusement as Letty visibly deflated and her
mother swelled with disbelief.

Before either
of them could reply, Broody decided to make himself noticed.

‘Wark!’ he
screeched, spitting a seed at Letty. ‘Bloody pirates! Heave, you
buggers! Wark!’ And began hurling seeds with gay abandon.

Letty squealed
and leapt from her seat, covering her ears and Lady Warriston’s
eyes bulged with disgust. His lordship’s lip quivered and he looked
instinctively at Rosalind. Her head was bent, one hand was pressed
tightly over her mouth and her shoulders were shaking.

‘That bird,’
announced her ladyship throbbingly, ‘is vicious!’

‘Vicious,
vicious, vicious!’ chanted Broody. He was very pleased with
himself. ‘Damn the Captain – sod the mate! Wark! Clear for action?’
And added a couple of his choicest phrases.

These proved
too much for Rosalind’s self-control. She laughed out loud.

The ladies left
soon after that, bristling with affronted disapproval and, no
sooner had the door closed behind them than Rosalind lifted a
flushed countenance to the Marquis and said unsteadily, ‘That
wretched bird – and you too! You should be ashamed of
yourselves.’

Absently
rewarding Broody by flicking back such seeds as he could find, his
lordship said unrepentantly, ‘I know. But they deserved it. Her
ladyship has the mind of a weasel and ‘dearest Letty’ has no mind
at all. Do you have to tolerate them very often?’

She shook her
head. ‘Hardly ever. They came to pry, didn’t they?’

‘That was
certainly part of it.’

‘A husband for
Letty and a titled gentleman at Oakleigh being the other? Yes. Lady
Warriston was hoping to catch Philip, you know – and Letty
certainly tried hard enough before his betrothal was announced –
but he didn’t like her at all.’

‘You
do
surprise me. I wonder why?’

‘He s-said she
was about as subtle as a springer spaniel but not nearly as
good-looking,’ replied Rosalind. And dissolved again into
laughter.

*

Absently
fingering the single, burnished ringlet that lay against her
breast, Rosalind sat at her dressing table and wondered what had
happened to disturb his lordship’s serenity. The day had passed
much like the ones before it; he had read to her, they’d tried to
teach Broody a new and more polite phrase, they’d taken the air in
the garden. But all the time she sensed that, for him, these things
had become a refuge; that he was using them to avoid having to talk
to her. And all day she had followed his lead and tried to make it
easy for him.

The prospect of
his imminent departure caused a lead weight to settle in her chest
and her hands dropped nervelessly into her lap. She had tried not
to mind, not to ask him to stay just a little longer … but it was
hard when all there was to look forward to was the old existence
that no longer seemed enough. He had given her life; made her think
and laugh and feel; but, as he had given it, so he would take it
away with him – for those things would cease to exist when she was
alone again. And surely, she thought, there was more to say than
the few words that had passed between them this morning? She didn’t
know what – only that it seemed so little.

She stood up,
shaking out the folds of her pale pink taffeta skirts and
admonishing herself for the selfish folly that was making her
forget to be grateful for what she’d had. Then the door opened and
Mrs Reed swept in like a tidal wave.

She fixed
Rosalind with a gimlet stare which did not miss the aura of wistful
uncertainty and said, more sharply than she meant, ‘Whatever ails
his lordship to be in such a hurry – and that poor man of his only
just fit to travel?’

‘Lord Amberley
is bound by the state of the roads,’ replied Rosalind composedly.
She had no intention of exposing her own lack of comprehension if
she could help it. ‘They will get worse if he delays any longer
and, since the coachman is fit to travel, there’s no reason why he
should linger.’

To herself, Mrs
Reed said, ‘
Is there not? And the selfish scoundrel all set to
leave
you worse off than you were before
!’ To Rosalind,
she remarked obscurely that it was no more than she should have
expected since green eyes invariably meant an unsteady
disposition.

Her hand on the
door-latch, Rosalind turned back and, wrinkling her brow, said,
‘Green? He told me they were grey.’

Mrs Reed
sniffed. ‘He can say aught he likes. But the plain truth is that he
has only to put on a green coat and there they are – green as
grass.’

A tiny,
reflective smile curled Rosalind’s mouth. ‘And is he handsome?’

There was a
scornful pause and then, ‘Handsome is as handsome does, I always
say. And, to my mind, he’s proving a disappointment!’

*

When dinner was
over they retired, as usual, to Rosalind’s parlour and sat facing
each other across the hearth. The Marquis stared at her as though
he would engrave every feature on his memory and a black despair
filled his heart and dried up the light flow of insubstantial words
on his tongue. Seconds ticked by in silence, then Rosalind said
diffidently, but as one who could no longer help herself, ‘Must you
really go?’

His jaw
tightened. ‘Yes.’

‘Is there any
particular reason?’

He hesitated,
aware that she already knew something was wrong and that any
further mistakes would land him in very deep waters indeed. There
appeared to be only one way out and so, in a flippant tone utterly
belied by the grimness of his expression, he took it.

‘Oh – at least
a dozen and all of them exceedingly dull, I assure you. My agent –
who must by now be wondering what’s become of me – has such a
catalogue of matters requiring my attention that I’ll be lucky to
escape him in less than a week. But escape him I must for I have a
number of engagements in London that I can’t break. My only hope is
that Henshaw will be so relieved to find me alive and well that
he’ll spare me some of the trivia and forgive both my tardiness and
my long stay abroad – for which he’s doubtless been preparing a
lengthy scold. He has the poorest opinion of absentee
landlords.’

Rosalind
digested this budget of information in silence. Then, raising one
sardonic brow, she said, ‘My goodness – you
do
sound
cheerful!’

The Marquis was
somewhat taken aback. ‘Why should I not?’

‘How should I
know?’ came the astringent retort. ‘Any more than I know why you’ve
spent a good part of the day sounding as though someone has read
your death sentence. The only thing I
am
certain of is that
neither one is anything to do with the forthcoming delights you’ve
just described.’

A reluctant
smile touched the corners of Amberley’s mouth. He should, he
supposed, have remembered Rosalind’s disconcerting facility for
flashes of rare insight; but it was too late now and he would
simply have to brazen it out.

‘I merely hoped
to charm a smile out of you,’ he said mildly. ‘You looked so
serious – and I was coxcomb enough to hope that it was because you
like saying goodbye as little as I do. As for the rest, it was no
more than the truth.’

‘Oh stop it!’
Rosalind stood up and swept round to the back of the sofa in an
irritable rustle of taffeta. ‘If you don’t want to tell me what is
on your mind or why you’ve suddenly decided to leave, all you need
do is say so. It’s entirely your own affair, after all. But for
heaven’s sake, don’t answer me with a mouthful of social
pleasantries and meaningless excuses that wouldn’t deceive a child.
I may be blind – but I’m not an imbecile.’

There was a
catastrophic silence.

Then, white to
the lips, the Marquis came slowly to his feet and said quietly, ‘I
know it – and can only apologise for my clumsiness.’ He paused but
she neither spoke nor turned to face him and so he went on, ‘Since
I leave at first light and wouldn’t dream of disturbing you at such
an ungodly hour, I’d like to say now – though no words can fully
express the depth of my obligation to you – that I am very much
your servant. Now and always.’ Then, with a deep bow, he walked
swiftly to the door.

‘Don’t go!’ As
if released from a spell, Rosalind turned after him. Her face was
as white as his own. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it. You’re right to
be angry – but please don’t go like this.’

He stopped as
though a chasm had opened at his feet and looked back into
beseeching violet eyes. Then, without even knowing what he did, he
walked back across the room and took her hands. ‘I’m not angry.
It’s alright.’