The Darcy Code (7 page)

Should she tell Papa what she had seen? It could be important.

"He only rode with me for a little while, and then he went and spoke to a man by a tree. An ordinary looking sort of man, not dressed like a gentleman. They must have had an appointment of some kind, for Mr. Vere gave him a paper and then rode directly away. I expect he was returning to his office after taking exercise, a man cannot be expected to sit all day at a desk."

Papa frowned. "You're sure he gave the man something?" And then, as though recollecting himself, he said, "Do not be telling this story to people. Mr. Vere is obliged by the nature of his duties to have sometimes to meet people in unusual situations."

After dinner, Anna and Mama were going on to a rout. Papa was going to his club, but he escorted them to
Aubrey Square
before going on to St James's.

Anna had no expectation of any pleasure; she went from duty and a sense of pride. People were not going to whisper that she was moping; that, lovelorn, she was going to fall into a decline like Amelia Norton.

As luck would have it, the first man she saw as she entered the crowded room was Mr. Standish, dancing attendance on Lady Flavia. Although, as if her eyes had indeed been opened, it did not seem to Anna that Lady Flavia was really responding to Mr. Standish's attentions. She winced at the gallantry and a flirtatiousness in his air, but she would not have said that Lady Flavia was showing any signs of an interest in Mr. Standish as a beau, as a potential suitor.

He finished talking to Lady Flavia, who turned away and went to speak to the Princess Lieven, who had drawn her usual court around her. Where was Mr. Standish going? He had a hurried air, there was a kind of excitement about him that aroused her curiosity. He had made his way round the edge of the room and was now sliding out of a door at the rear of the room. Watching his progress and exit, she hadn't noticed Lady Flavia coming across the room towards her.

Lady Flavia said with a polite but genuine smile, "You were enquiring the other day about Miss Harriet Fenton. As I said, I had no real recollection of her, but I mentioned her name to my father, saying that she was with Mrs.. Carteret, with whom he is acquainted, and he told me that Mrs. Carteret has decided to stay in
Paris
, despite the advice of our embassy for English people to leave the country. And so it is most likely that Miss Fenton remains there with her. Mrs. Carteret sent her manservant home, but my father made enquiries and told me this evening that no papers were issued for anyone else in her household. Mrs. Carteret has friends in
France
, he understands, and he does not think she will come to any harm or suffer anything worse than perhaps some embarrassment should hostilities resume."

Anna was surprised and grateful; so Lady Flavia was not as cold and off-putting as she seemed. Lady Flavia smiled, remarked how hot it was and didn't she find it a sad crush, then moved away.

This was good news, even if limited, and while she was musing on what Lady Flavia had told her, a clumsy man standing in front of her stepped back, treading on the flounce of her dress and tearing it with an ominous ripping sound.

He was effusive in his apologies and Anna assured him, untruthfully, that no great harm had been done. Clumsy idiot! How annoying this was; but she always carried pins with her, and could easily repair the damage for now. Ah, there was Henrietta, just the person she needed. Since her hostess this evening was Henrietta's aunt, Henrietta might be supposed to know where she might go to pin up her dress. Henrietta pointed with a fan to the door at the far end of the room, and said. "There is a little room there, where you may sit and pin your flounce. Shall I ask my aunt to send a maid to you?"

Anna said that would not be necessary, and made her way with difficulty. for the room was crowded by now, and arrived at the door, the same one that Mr. Standish had slipped through.

It led out to a little circular hall, with two doors leading off it. One was ajar and the other was closed. She hesitated and then pushed the one that was slightly open a little further and peeped in to see if it was the room Henrietta had mentioned, and if it were empty.

It wasn't.

A man and woman were in there, locked in a fervent embrace upon a sofa that was the only furniture in the little chamber.

How shocking, how embarrassing, how terrible for her to catch them in such a situation. But no; neither the man nor woman was aware of her presence. Indeed at this angle they couldn't see her. She didn't want to be a voyeur, but she stood transfixed, for although the man had his back turned to her, she recognized the coat, the shoulders the back of the man's neck. It was Mr. Standish, his hand sliding inside the bodice of the woman's gown, his lips fastened on hers. Then he drew away and laughed as he tucked a fold of paper into her bosom, before he bent and kissed one white breast.

Anna retreated, breathing hard, her head in a whirl. Who was that woman? She had seen her before, but couldn't put a name to her. So much for Lady Flavia.

And for her? Was it such a surprise?

The answer came to her. No. A sudden calmness came over her, as she examined her feelings. She had imagined, no, had longed herself into being in love with Mr. Standish. He was attractive, extremely attractive, but why had she been taken in by his handsome looks, never pausing to make any reasonable assessment of his character?

He had flirted and flattered her, and she had been in the mood to fall in love. Had he asked her to marry her, she would have accepted him, and thank God it had never come to that. What she thought had been love was nothing more than hotness of the blood and a passing fancy.

Chastened, she took another deep breath, and fled back into the drawing room, anxious to lose herself in the throng before Mr. Standish and the woman came in.

The woman re-entered the room alone. Her colour was high, and she was fanning herself, with a beautiful fan, Anna noticed with half her attention. She was standing by Mama and said, almost brusquely, so that Lady Gosforth looked at her with some surprise, "Who is that woman? Did we not see her at the dressmaker, at Madame Girot's?"

Mama raised her face-à-main and looked across to where the woman was sipping a glass of wine. "The one in purple satin? That is Mrs. Fortescue, she is a most elegant creature, do not you think? She had a tragedy in her life; her first husband was sent to the guillotine in
France
, and she was lucky to escape with her life. But that was a while ago, and she has been married to Mr. Fortescue these four or five years. He is never in
London
, he is one of those men who prefers to stay in the country."

It was a long time before Anna got to sleep that night. She was tired after the rout and as soon as she got in, she said goodnight to her mother and took her candle upstairs to her bedchamber, where a sleepy maid waited to help her out of her gown and into her nightdress.

Her tiredness was not physical tiredness, but a deeper weariness. She lay back on the pillows, thinking about weariness, and then the word became wariness, and as images of Mr. Standish and that woman slipped in and out of her half-asleep mind, she thought that wary was what she should have been, and hadn't.

What an innocent, to think that you set your fancy on a man, and then your heart followed, and it was all intoxicatingly easy. Whereas, wariness would have been a far better course to follow. How much did she know of Mr. Standish's character? Very little. He had proved himself as fickle as a man could be, and she had to acknowledge that she had had a lucky escape. If Papa had been a little more influential, or her fortune a little larger, perhaps...

She drifted into sleep, disturbed images of Mr. Vere, astride his horse, galloping after Mr. Standish, commanding him to stop, and brandishing a folded paper above his head. Her dream dissolved and re-formed and there was Mrs. Fortescue, half-naked, fluttering her fan and looking over it with devilish eyes. Mocking eyes, mocking laughter.

By the time her maid came in with her morning chocolate, Anna was glad to be woken, the light streaming in through the windows chasing away the phantasms of the night.

Mama had sent a message up by her maid, to remind her that she was due at the dressmaker's that morning for a fitting for her new ball dress. Memories of the night, those fleeting images of Mrs. Fortescue, tugged at her mind, but she resolutely dismissed them.

She missed the sensuous pleasure that she had formerly felt when she had wakened and indulged in rapturous thoughts of Mr. Standish, imagining herself in his arms, responding to his embraces. She shuddered, amazed at how such strength of feeling could turn so quickly from adoration to repulsion.

Mama's mind was full of various things. She had received a letter from Sarah, with a happy account of her honeymoon, and she was much involved with attending to some new hangings for the house where Sarah would live with her husband. They had sent the wrong colour, such a nuisance; she would have to go to the warehouse herself and put matters right, such a disappointment for dear Sarah.

Absorbed in these thoughts, she didn't take any particular notice of Anna's thoughtfulness, and Anna sat back against the squabs, looking out at the streets, finding
London
grey under heavy skies. The black clouds exactly suited her mood, but caused Mama to exclaim at how hot and close the weather was.

It was as though they had stepped back a week, for, exactly as had happened at their last visit, Madame Girot was attending to another customer. Once again, she greeted them, and, flowery with apologies, begged Lady Gosforth and Miss Gosforth to wait, to let her assistant attend to them, and then she would be with them shortly.

And once again the other customer was Mrs. Fortescue. She gave a cool glance at the Gosforths, and a brief nod of acknowledgement, which Mama returned with an equally slight bow.

Anna's eyes were drawn to Mrs. Fortescue, who did not appear to be having a fitting, but was deep in conversation with Madame Girot. She held a fan, not as pretty as the one she was carrying last night, but still a charming one, with a pastoral scene painted on it. But as Mrs. Fortescue opened and shut it, Anna noticed that the other side was almost plain, indeed, it appeared to be some kind of parchment, with words inscribed on it; Anna had never seen such a design, and she wondered about it for a moment before being distracted by her mama's request that she attend to a detail of the trimming on her new gown.

Mrs. Fortescue closed her fan and put it down, then rose from her seat and went over to the other side of the room to admire some lace. She returned to her seat, picked up her fan, and waved it in front of her face, just it as she had done last night and in Anna's dreams. She made a remark about how hot it was and, with another polite smile pinned to her lips and a nod to Mama, left the shop.

Mama whispered her disapproval into Anna's ear.

"They say her first husband was a French aristocrat, and certainly Mr. Fortescue is well enough, but I think that woman is not what she seems, I find there is something very ill bred in her air."

The fitting completed, Anna and her mother were bowed out by Madame Girot and set off for a milliner a few doors further down the street. Anna wasn't in the mood for hats, and she stood inside the shop, watching the world go by: ladies bent on purchasing finery, servants walking briskly with packages to deliver, wives walking on arms of husbands. Then she saw a familiar figure; good heavens, it was that Mr. Vere again, taller than the others in the street and with an impatience in his vigorous stride. How that man did almost magically appear. Why was he out and about; hadn't her father said he had duties that should have kept him at his desk all day?

Mama concluded her business and beckoned to Anna to come out of the shop. Outside she almost bumped into Mrs. Desmond, and greeted her with cries of delight. Anna knew what would happen now, Mama and Mrs. Desmond would stand on the pavement conversing and gossiping. Oh, no, Mrs. Desmond's carriage was drawing up, and she was inviting Lady Gosforth and Anna to go with her. That meant a tiresome hour or so fidgeting, obliged to listen to a conversation in which she had no interest and played no part.

Mama seemed to understand Anna's reluctance and, spying Mr. Vere, she called out to him. He stopped, looked an enquiry, and came over to them.

Mama wasted no words. "Lord Gosforth said that you were going to call upon him this morning. Might I beg that you would escort my daughter home? I have business elsewhere, and I know it will bore her."

Mr. Vere smiled, bowed and hooked an elbow for Anna to take.

She felt the strength of him beneath the broadcloth, and for the first time was conscious of what an attractive man he was. She stole a look at his countenance, which was quite grave. On impulse she said, "Do you have some serious matter weighing upon you, Mr. Vere? You look as though you are preoccupied."

He looked down at her, with a smile of apology. "Yes, I do have things on my mind just now."

"To do with what is happening in your government department?"

He was surprised. "What do you know about what is going on at any government department, Miss Gosforth?"

The words were out of Anna's mouth before she could stop herself: "I heard you talking to Papa yesterday." Then she bit her lip, furious with herself.