The Reckoning (82 page)

‘You still haven't told me what
that
means.’

He smiled enigmatically. 'She hasn't told you, then? Well, I
had better not go into details. Suffice to say she is in love with
someone, and unsure of a return. My plan is to pay her atten
tion so that the other party will notice her many attractions,
and perhaps grow jealous enough to try to cut me out with
her.’

Rosamund looked suspicious. 'I'm not sure I believe you.
Who is this other person?'

‘
I think I had better let her tell you that in her own time.
And now we have talked enough about your cousin. Let's talk about you instead. Ah, there's that look coming into your eyes
again. My dear Lady Chelmsford, in the last few minutes,
while we were talking, you were neither bored nor unhappy;
but you have been both, haven't you? And now you are
thinking of your troubles again.’

Rosamund didn't answer. It was true that she had
forgotten everything for a while, but that only made it worse
when she remembered again.

‘
You're looking unwell, too. Won't you tell me what's
wrong?’

Under cover of the crowd, he took her hand, and pressed it warmly. She looked up into his face, and saw there such kind
and above all
personal
interest that for a wild moment she felt
that she could tell him anything, even about the jumping off chairs. She wanted to tell him everything, to confide all her
foolish troubles to him, to be folded in his arms and made
happy, to be crushed against him and
 
Good God, what was she thinking? She surprised herself in
the middle of the thought, and felt her cheeks burn with
shame at where it had been leading her. 'No,' she said
abruptly. 'I can't.’

He smiled then, as if he had heard everything that had
gone through her mind. 'You can. You can tell me anything —
don't you remember our pact? — and I will never pretend to
be shocked or even surprised by what you say. Listen to me: I
know some of what has been happening to you, and I can
guess more. You need someone to talk to. You can talk to me.
Indeed, you will talk to me, I promise you that.'

‘
I'm a married woman,' she said, not quite sure what she
meant by it. He seemed to understand, though.

‘
You can talk to me about that, too. And I shall dedicate
myself, while I'm here, to distracting you from your troubles,
as I did just now. A respite is better than nothing, isn't it?'

‘
How long will you be here?' she asked.

‘
Just for the racing, I'm afraid. But afterwards — London is
not impossibly far away. One must visit London quite often,
you know, on business, and the coaches are so fast nowadays.
I shall see you in London, and there one may be much more
anonymous than in a small community like this.'

‘
Or like Manchester,' she said dazedly. Was he saying what
she thought he was saying? And was it possible that she was
not finding the idea shocking? What was happening to her?
His blue eyes seemed to pour light into hers, dazzling her as if
she were staring up into the brightest part of the summer sky.
She was trembling lightly all over with the urgent desire to
touch him. She had never felt like this before. It was as
though she were sickening for a fever.

And then they were interrupted.

‘
Oh, there you are!' said Marcus, his head appearing in a
gap in the crowd behind Farraline. 'Miss Rosedale and Polly
are looking for you.’

Rosamund dragged her attention away from Farraline, and
looked towards her husband as he got his shoulder between
two obtruding bodies and squeezed himself through into their
space.

‘
What were you —? Oh! Farraline!' Marcus looked taken
aback. 'I didn't recognise you from the back.' He looked from
one to the other, and there was a small pulse of awkward
silence. 'I haven't seen you for a long time. How's the arm?’

Farraline answered smoothly. 'First rate, thank you,
Chelmsford. Nothing more than the occasional twinge in wet
weather.'

‘
Well, we all get that, don't we?' Marcus said brightly. 'The
war left none of us quite sound.'

‘
Congratulations on your marriage, by the way,' Farraline
said. 'You're a fortunate man.'

‘
Yes, I know it,' Marcus said, his eyes going from face to
face again. 'I didn't know you and Rosamund were
acquainted.'

‘
We met two years ago in Scarborough,' Farraline said in
an unhelpfully neutral tone.

‘When I was staying there with Sophie,' Rosamund added
impatiently, seeing Marcus's blank look. 'You remember,
Marcus.'

‘
Yes, I remember. Well, well. And are you staying for the
whole week?'

‘
Yes indeed. I'm staying with the Howicks — do you know
them? Piers Howick and I were at school together.'

‘
Excellent. Well, we must get together while you're here —
talk over old times. Peninsula days, and so on.'

‘
That would be delightful,' Farraline said gravely.

Marcus glanced at Rosamund. 'We'd better be rejoining
our party now. Come, Ros. Goodday, Farraline.’

He took her elbow and pushed her gently, and it annoyed
her. Removing her arm from his grasp quite firmly she
extended her hand to Farraline and smiled her most
charming smile at him. 'Goodbye, Mr Farraline. I hope we
meet again soon.’

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he bent over her hand
politely. 'I'm quite sure we shall, Lady Chelmsford. I have
been invited to dinner at Morland Place tomorrow after the
racing. Lady Morland is eager for news of her daughter.’

She laughed. 'Unscrupulous! You knew that all along!'

‘
Indeed, ma'am,' he bowed his head. 'Make sure of your
ground as you go, that's the rule in dangerous country! And
so it is quite certainly
au revoir
and not
adieu,
you see.’

Marcus hurried her away, and when they were out of the
crowd he said in a disapproving voice, 'You seem to know
Farraline very well.'

‘
What does that mean?' she counter-attacked at once.
‘Only that you spoke to him in a very familiar way. I don't
think you ought to – it might be misunderstood.'

‘
Oh?' she said frigidly, raising her brows at him. 'By whom,
pray?’

He looked embarrassed. 'Well, not by me, of course –’

‘
There was no-one else present.'

‘
But I mean another time – if you meet him in company –well, Ros, I only mean you should be careful what you say, how you behave in public. People love to talk, as you know
very well.'

‘
Do you think I need to be told how to behave?' she asked,
whipping up her anger. 'I wonder why you married me, then,
for I am exactly what I always was.'

‘
I love you just as you are,' he said desperately, beginning
to feel he was being driven towards a trap. 'It isn't me, but
others –'

‘Others?'

‘
Well, Mama says –' he began fatally, and she swung round
on him so fast that he flinched away from her.

‘
Your mother says a great deal one way and another! I'm
obliged to put up with her when she's with us, but I'm
damned if I'll have her quoted at me when I manage to get
away from her for a few days!'

‘What do you mean?' He began to redden.

‘
Exactly what I say. And I tell you what, Marcus, I won't
put up with her much longer, with her interfering and criti
cising and spying on me –'

‘
How dare you accuse Mama of spying?' He lost his temper
at last.

‘
Because she does. I don't want her living with us any
longer, that's all!'

‘
It's not your decision to make! She doesn't live with us,
she lives with
me,
in
my
house, at
my
expense, just as you do,
may I remind you! And it might behove you to remember also that I've allowed your cousin to live with us for a whole year,
and you never heard me complain about that!’

Folly's no trouble. She doesn't interfere –'

‘
My mother does not interfere! She gives you the benefit of
her experience, and very good of her it is to take the trouble!
A lot of mothers wouldn't, especially when you're so rude and ungrateful.'

‘
Ungrateful!' Rosamund said with a sarcastic laugh.

‘
Why, she's been kind and attentive to you all along, taken
you to places, introduced you into company, given you her
countenance –'

‘
Thank you, I think my credit is good enough without that!
And as for introducing me into company, my mother did that
for me long ago!’

Marcus opened his mouth to make a sharp retort about
her
mother, and suddenly stopped himself, staring at her with
rapidly cooling anger. What on earth were they quarrelling
about? It wasn't his mother, that was for sure. ‘Ros, don't,' he
said. 'Please.’

She looked at him suspiciously, and with hostility, like a wild
colt eyeing the carrot that was always accompanied by a rope.

‘
What's wrong?' he asked her gently. 'You haven't been
yourself for weeks now.’

She stared at him in silence, but she had no temptation to
tell him everything. He was too much a part of what was
wrong, too mixed up with feelings of guilt and frustration; he was her victim as much as she was his, and there was nothing
she could say to him about that. That she had stepped volun
tarily into his cage did not make the longing to escape any
less; and the feelings of fondness and affection she certainly
had for him were too much overpowered just then by the
simple desire to get away from him.

Nothing's wrong,' she said. 'I'm sorry I spoke as I did.
Let's go back and join the party. The first race will be starting
soon.' She forced herself to smile, and put her arm through
his; and when Marcus smiled back, followed her cue, and
talked about the race, she thought she had placated him.