Rake's Progress (19 page)

‘She has retired. The evening was a bit of strain. She feels she has let Miss Jones down by not preventing her from making a fool of herself.'

‘I do not think Miss Jones made a fool of herself at all. We can turn the tables when the rioting dies down. In the meantime, leave the field to me, if you take my meaning, and be prepared to act as bride's man at a moment's notice.'

Mr Roger winked and let himself out into the night.

Lord Guy turned to the hovering butler. ‘I feel sure we shall not need your services this night, Graves,' he said. ‘But sleep in your clothes and ask the other manservants to do the same in case we are attacked.'

‘Very good, my lord,' said Graves.

Lord Guy strode into the saloon and stood looking at Esther.

‘Oh, my love,' he said. ‘What have you done to your hair?'

‘How like you, my lord,' said Esther with a faint smile. ‘The whole of London is in peril and yet all you can notice is a lady's hair.'

‘The most important thing in the world,' he said softly. ‘Well, my sweeting, that was the briefest and most dramatic coming-out I am ever likely to witness.'

‘Do not mock me,' said Esther. ‘At least I can now release you from our engagement with an easy conscience.'

‘No, that you cannot,' he said severely. ‘Only think of poor Amy and Peter.'

‘They are young and will soon forget.'

‘But society will never forget,' said Lord Guy, mentally sending up a prayer for forgiveness, as he was sure the terror of the mob would have already driven Esther's scandal from the minds of the
ton
. The fear of a revolution taking place in Britain, like the one that had rocked France, was never far from their minds. ‘You had better marry me,' he said. ‘We will go abroad, and when we return, everything will be forgotten.'

‘I thought you said society would
never
forget,' said Esther sharply.

‘Did I? I meant for some time. Faith, the night is chilly and you so charmingly attired in thin muslin.'

He walked over to the fireplace, and, crouching down in front of it, began to pile it high with logs and coal. Then he sat back on his heels and looked at her, noticing for the first time the strain in her eyes.

They were oddly beautiful eyes, he thought. Because of her dress, they looked blue. They seemed to pick up the colour of whatever she was
wearing. He was very near her as she sat by the fire, and his face was almost on a level with her own.

From outside in the square came a muffled roar and the sound of shots. Esther shivered.

He leaned forward and gently drew her face to his own.

‘No,' whispered Esther.

He stroked her face with his long fingers. ‘If you loved me,' he said quietly, ‘then that lot out there could burn London and you would not care. There is another kind of scorching and burning, my sweet Esther. Come, let me teach you.'

‘I would learn none of your wanton tricks,' said Esther in a voice that trembled.

‘And I would teach you none,' he said huskily. ‘I would teach you to love me.' Kneeling in front of her, he held her by the shoulders and kissed her lips. She made a murmur of protest. A shot rattled just then against the shutters, and with an alarmed cry, she fell forward into his arms.

He drew her down onto the hearthrug and pressed his lips to hers. Esther felt her senses beginning to swim. She looked up dizzily over his shoulder, and the stern face of the reformer over the fireplace stared back.

Another shot struck the shutters. ‘The children!' cried Esther, pulling away.

‘They will do very well,' he said. ‘Children can sleep through anything. Oh, kiss me again, my stern Miss Jones. Your mouth is sweet, and I would lose myself in it.'

Esther moaned a protest as his clever hands and experienced mouth took control of her senses. He kissed and kissed until Esther went down before wave after wave of passion. He seemed to be wearing a great deal of clothes compared to her own flimsy covering, which was no protection from roving hands and searching, questing mouth. He shifted her body a little away from the fire as the flames blazed higher. He sat up and removed his cravat and jacket and then tossed his waistcoat in the corner.

‘No, you must not . . . you cannot,' said Esther, trying to fight against the drugged feeling in her body.

He laughed down at her dazed eyes as he stripped off his shirt.

‘Murder them! Burn them!' screamed a voice outside.

‘Stop!' whispered Esther. ‘Please stop.' But his hands had found the tapes that held her dress. The material whispered down her shoulders to bare her breasts. She put up her arms to try to cover them, but he smiled at her gently, and said, ‘I will hide them for you.'

He jerked her back into his arms and pressed her naked breasts against his bare chest.

The effect on Esther's senses was devastating. Something seemed to give inside her, and she began to kiss him back with ferocity and passion.

A volley of shots sounded in the square outside as the militia moved in to quell the mob. There
were screams and howls, but Miss Esther Jones lay in Lord Guy Carlton's arms deaf and blind to the outside world. For Lord Guy, no horrible scenes of battle disturbed his mind. She was moaning in abject surrender as he kissed one perfect breast when all at once his lovemaking ceased. He gave her a little shake.

‘Don't stop,' pleaded Esther.

‘Marry me tomorrow.'

‘Oh, Carlton . . .'

‘My name is Guy. Marry me tomorrow. I will have all of you in the wedding bed and nowhere else. Marry me!'

‘Yes,' said Esther. ‘Oh, yes.'

‘We will be married here, a quiet wedding, and when London returns to normal, we will be married in church.'

‘You, in church?' said Esther. ‘Do you not know, my lord, it is deemed monstrous unfashionable to be married in church?'

‘I'll have you, Esther Jones, before man
and
God. Now, kiss me again and send me on my way. I shall return tomorrow with the preacher. I dare not stay here because I would not be able to keep my hands off you.'

The sounds in the square outside were dying away. He dressed, gave Esther a hard kiss on the lips, and took his leave.

Ten minutes later, Lord Guy roused the staff and Mr Roger at Number 67 Clarges Street to tell them of his forthcoming wedding. They all cheered.
Rainbird ran down the stairs to fetch champagne. Only Manuel stood grim and silent. He could see all his hopes and dreams fading away. After the celebrations were over, after he had heard Mr Roger teasing Lord Guy over breaking the conventions by staying alone with his bride-to-be before the wedding night, and staff and masters had at last gone happily to bed, Manuel stayed behind in the front parlour beside the dying fire and made his plans.

Graves, hollow-cheeked and white of face, opened the door to Manuel the following morning and wearily heard the Spanish servant say he had an urgent message for Miss Jones from Lord Guy Carlton. In vain did Mr Graves protest it was too early in the day; Manuel was adamant. Miss Jones would be most incensed if she did not receive my lord's message.

When Esther finally came downstairs in her undress, Manuel, eyeing Graves, said he preferred to speak to her in private.

‘Very well,' said Esther, surveying the servant with dislike. Could she persuade Guy to get rid of him once they were married?

At first she could not quite take in what Manuel was trying to tell her. She shook her head in confusion and asked him, ‘I am sorry. I am so tired. What are you saying?'

‘I am saying that my lord is leaving for Portugal today,' said Manuel.

‘But we are to be married today!'

Manuel shook his head sadly. ‘A great joke of it he made last night, did my lord. “She thinks I am to wed her,” he say, and he laugh, and all the servants laugh and drink champagne. My lord, he say he give anything to see your face when you find him gone.'

‘I do not believe you,' said Esther, white-lipped.

‘Madam, this is a painful and disgusting task for me. If I lie, I lose my employ and find myself alone in this foreign country. Why should I lie?'

‘Please leave me,' said Esther. ‘I must think.'

‘Go, madam,' said Manuel. ‘Do not stay in London to let the
ton
know your humiliation. Go! Go, quickly!'

‘Leave me!' cried Esther.

Manuel slid out, but he went only as far as the opposite side of the square, where he waited, watching the house.

He was a desperate man, and that desperation had made him stupid. Had Esther been a normal society lady, she would have promptly called at her fiancé's home and demanded an explanation. But he did not know how lucky he was. For Esther, deep in humiliation, could only remember with hot cheeks the liberties she had allowed Lord Guy. She remembered the scandal her father had caused when he had promised marriage to a miss in the neighbouring county who did not know until she had been shamed and ridiculed that the squire was already married.
Rakes were all the same
, thought Esther bitterly. But he should not find out that she
had spent the day waiting like a fool for the preacher.

Brighton. That was it. She would go to Brighton and take the children with her. There was Miss Fipps, and Miss Fipps was Lord Guy's cousin. But she had already proved herself an affectionate friend. Esther would tell Miss Fipps about it all when they arrived in Brighton. If she told her before then, she felt sure Miss Fipps would rush to Clarges Street to give Lord Guy a piece of her mind and the wretched philanderer would know how badly she, Esther, had been hurt. Thank goodness she had not told the children, Miss Fipps, or the household about the wedding.

After two hours, Manuel's waiting was rewarded. A cumbersome travelling carriage pulled up outside Esther's home. After a little while, Esther appeared, heavily veiled, leading the children and followed by Miss Fipps and her lady's maid. Trunks were strapped up behind.

In the distance, Manuel heard the baying of the mob, who had risen afresh and were hell-bent on destroying everything in sight. He took to his heels and ran.

Lord Guy Carlton decided to see Esther again before going off to find the vicar. The vicar, the Reverend Abraham Pascombe, was an old friend, albeit a drunken and disgraceful one. But Lord Guy felt he would serve the purpose and perform adequately.

Lord Guy walked round to Berkeley Square with a brace of pistols in his pocket. He had to pick his way through shards of glass and broken shutters. Somewhere nearby, the mob had started to burn houses, and the air was heavy with the smell of smoke. London waited for another onslaught from the rabble. The cannon in St. James' Park had been loaded with ball. A party of Burdettites from Soho rounded the corner with blue cockades and colours flying. They did not try to stop him, contenting themselves with shouting, ‘Burdett forever. Magna Carta. Trial by jury.' Most of them seemed to be in an advanced state of intoxication.

Lord Guy almost welcomed their presence. It proved that, with or without Esther, he was cured of his nightmares of the battlefield. One of their number fired a gun in the air, and Lord Guy did not even flinch.

He knocked at Esther's door and waited some time before a cautious voice on the inside could be heard demanding his name and business.

Then he had to wait until the bolts were slid back and the door unlocked.

‘Miss Jones?' he said, striding past Graves into the hall.

‘Madam has left,' said Graves.

‘When? Why? Where?'

‘An hour ago. I do not know. Miss Jones has gone to Brighton,' said Graves, answering each question in turn.

‘Good Gad. Did she leave no message, no letter?'

‘No, my lord.'

If Esther had appeared in front of him at that moment, he felt he would cheerfully have strangled her. No man of his rank and breeding could tolerate such an insult from a woman.

His face hard and set, he turned to leave.

But Graves, who was still annoyed with the way the pampered servants of Clarges Street appeared to demand audience with his mistress anytime they felt like it, said sourly to his retreating back, ‘Miss Jones decided to leave immediately after receiving a message from your lordship's servant. I assumed that because of the dangers in Town, your lordship had suggested Miss Jones remove herself and the children to Brighton.'

‘Manuel!' said Lord Guy between his teeth.

He turned and strode out of the door, leaving Graves looking after him.

At Clarges Street, he roused Mr Roger from his bed and told him of the happenings of the morning. ‘Told you the fellow was up to no good,' said Mr Roger. ‘What are you going to do?'

‘Come down to the parlour with me and let's have him in, unless he has run away.'

Mr Roger swathed his burly form in a Chinese dressing gown and followed Lord Guy downstairs. Lord Guy rang the bell and when Rainbird appeared he curtly ordered Manuel to be brought in.

Manuel had not fled. He was confident his plan had worked. He was sitting in his attic room busily writing when Rainbird told him he was wanted.

‘I come soon,' he said, picking up his papers and stuffing them in his pocket.

‘You'd better come sharpish,' said Rainbird. ‘My lord looks like death.'

Rainbird stood by the door of the front parlour until Manuel came downstairs. He held open the door, ushered Manuel in, and closed it behind him.

‘What did you tell my fiancée?' demanded Lord Guy harshly.

‘I did not tell her anything, my lord. I think you go there and go myself to attend to your wishes.'

‘You could have looked in my bedroom. I am curious about you, Manuel. Very curious.' Lord Guy drew a pistol out of his pocket and levelled it at him. ‘If you make a move, I will blow your head off. Tommy, search him.'

Manuel made a dive for the door. Lord Guy fired a ball over his head into the woodwork, and Manuel stood stock-still, white-faced and trembling.