The Reckoning (89 page)

‘
Do you remember,' Sophie said tentatively, 'when we used
to talk about such things, how I felt that I could never bear
the intimate side of marriage with anyone but René?'

‘
Yes, I remember. You quite shrank from the idea. But it's
not so bad, is it, once you get used to it?’

Sophie's eyes opened wide. 'Not so bad? But, Ros, it's
wonderful! It's so extraordinary and exciting and – and
touching,
somehow. To be so close to him, to have no barriers
between us, to feel how much he wants me! It's such a
powerful, physical force, and yet so full of care and tender
ness that it touches me unbearably. It makes me feel so
proud, and yet almost as though I want to cry. Well, of
course, you must know,' she added, a little embarrassed by
her own vehemence. 'You're married too.'

‘
Yes, of course,' Rosamund said blankly.

‘
I think of the marriage vow – you know, when the man
says "with my body, I thee worship". There is something – I
don't mean to sound blasphemous, but it is so – something
holy about it. When Jasper looks at me when we're –' a deep
blush – 'when we're making love, and touches my face, as if I
were something so precious –'

‘
Yes,' said Rosamund desperately. 'Yes, love, I'm very glad
you're happy.’

It was so obviously an attempt to stop her that Sophie was afraid she had overstepped the mark and spoken too freely. 'I
beg your pardon,' she said in a small, hurt voice. 'I wouldn't
have mentioned such things to anyone but you, but I thought
as we had been such friends, and – and – I thought it would
be all right.'

‘
Oh Sophie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Of
course, I'm honoured that you confide in me. You can say
anything to me, anything at all. It's just that – well, love, I
suppose I'm jealous, in a way. I don't imagine many people's
marriages are just like yours. That side of things – it's not
always blissful, you know.’

Sophie looked distressed. 'Well, yes, I suppose I did know, but – you and Marcus, Ros? You love him so much. Surely it
must be – well, all right?’

Rosamund felt such a sadness, though it was foolish to feel
it in the face of Sophie's innocent happiness. Everything was
so simple for Sophie: love and marriage, and now sexual plea
sure, were all part of the same thing, indivisible, and Sophie could not imagine any of them existing separately from each other. Perhaps with one part of her brain she might acknowl
edge that in some cases it was so, but only in the same way
that she acknowledged there was a place called Africa. It had
no reality for her. She didn't really
believe
it. And loving her, Rosamund could not wish her to think any differently.

‘
Yes, of course it's all right,' she said, smiling reassuringly.
‘I didn't mean otherwise. Only that – well, not until I'm as
good
as you, dearest Sophie, will I be able to be as
happy
as you. So now tell me,' she changed the subject brightly, 'what
news from Morland Place? Have you seen Mathilde's new
baby yet? Polly writes that they called it Harriet. What a pity
they had another girl – I'm sure John must have wanted a
boy.'

‘
Oh, no, they both adore her!' Sophie was successfully
diverted. 'She's the sweetest little thing! Polly dotes on her,
and I'm sure she spends as much time at Morland Place as at
Skelwith House. I've only seen her once, when Jasper and I
came back from our honeymoon – she was born while we
were in Scarborough – but Mathilde writes me long letters
about her, so I feel I know everything about her.’

Yes, I'll bet you do, Rosamund thought. She could imagine
those letters, with all their endless, boring detail. Well, at least
a letter could be ignored. Rosamund had learned all she ever
wanted to know about Miss Harriet Skelwith at York races,
long before the little brute was even born.

*

Sophie turned on the step and said again, 'Are you sure you
don't mind my leaving you? It does seem rude, when you've
come so far to see me.'

‘
Of course I don't mind. Sophie, do stop being so polite! We
have four whole weeks together, maybe more if Marcus
doesn't press me to go back. I can certainly spare you two
afternoons a week, especially in such a good cause.'

‘You're sure you don't want to come with me?' Sophie said doubtfully.

Rosamund shuddered. 'I can think of few things I'd like
less than to go visiting your dreadful tenements. I loathe bad
smells and dirt and sickness.'

‘
But you were so wonderful in Brussels, after the battle,
with the sick and wounded soldiers.'

‘
I can do it when I have to. That doesn't mean I like it – or
that I'll do it except under extreme duress. No, no, my
Sophie, you go and play loblolly boy to your heart's delight,
and don't worry about me. I shall drive to the Exchange and
waste my pin-money on ribbons and purses like a frivolous
woman, and you may think me as decadent as you please.’

Sophie put her arms round her cousin in a swift, surprising
hug. 'I
love
you,' she said fiercely, as if Rosamund needed
defending. 'I just want you to enjoy yourself.'

‘
I shall, I promise you. Each to his own. Now
go!’

Ten minutes later Rosamund was putting on her hat, and
meeting Moss's eye in the glass, said, 'Is it all arranged?'

‘Yes, my lady.’

Rosamund sighed. 'And you can take off that disapproving
look. If you aren't happy in my service, you can always look
for another place.’

She saw the hurt in Moss's eyes, and after a moment of
inward resistance, said, 'I'm sorry, Judy. I didn't mean that.
I'm grateful to you.'

‘
You don't need to be grateful to me, my lady,' Moss said,
stiffly. 'You pay my wages to give me orders.'

‘
I don't pay you to love me, though, do I?' Rosamund said,
smiling, though her eyes were strained.

Moss melted. 'Oh my lady, I only want you to be happy,
that's all.'

‘
Then go on helping me. Yes, I know everything you think
about this, and I don't want to hear it. We all have to take
happiness where we can. There, will I do now, do you think?'

‘
You look beautiful, my lady,' Moss said fervently, and
stepped forward to lift down Rosamund's veil for her. Then
she went to the door and opened it, listened, and said, 'It's all
quiet, my lady. The hackney'll be waiting at the second
corner. You will be careful, won't you, my lady?'

‘
Of course I will. Thank you, Judy. And if anyone asks
about me –'

‘
You went shopping, yes, my lady. Don't worry – I'll put
'em off.’

Ten minutes later a cab pulled into the sweep of a small,
rather shabby house on the Bury road, and a veiled lady
stepped down, paid the driver, knocked at the door, and was
admitted by an unseen hand. Inside the hallway she lifted her
veil and carefully removed her hat, looking round her to
remark with faint distaste, 'What is this place? Is it yours?'

‘
No, it belongs to a friend. It was his mother's, but she died
recently. Oh, nothing infectious, I promise you!'

‘
I didn't suppose it was. I was only wondering whether he was to be trusted. Does he know what you wanted to borrow
it for?'

‘
He knows what. He doesn't know who, of course. And yes,
he is entirely to be trusted. Don't worry, my darling, we're
quite safe. And it's better than an inn, you must admit.’

Rosamund put down the hat, and let out a quivering sigh.
‘Oh Jesmond!' she said.

‘
Yes, my dear love?' He gathered her into his arms, turned
her face up to his, and began to kiss it, gently, all over – brow,
eyes, nose, lips.

Rosamund had been going to say
why does life have to be so
complicated,
but she suddenly realised she didn't want to ask
that any more. His arms were strong around her, the familiar
sweet smell of his skin was affecting her. She turned her
mouth to intercept his, and kissed him, long and hungrily;
and when they broke, she sighed again, but a different sigh
this time.

‘
What have you prepared – a bedroom? Then let's go there,
now.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So hasty, Lady Chelmsford?
Shouldn't you like some civilised conversation first? Or a dish
of tea?’

She took his hand and led him firmly towards the stairs.

‘Don't be a clown. And don't call me that, you know I hate it.'

‘
Very well, then, Lady Rosamund,' Farraline said, and
suddenly scooped her up in his arms, making her shriek with
surprise. 'I know my place. I shall ravish you first,' he
laughed, 'and talk to you afterwards ...’

*

A long time afterwards they lay on the bed together, eating
cherries. 'I'm glad you remembered the sheets this time,'
Rosamund said idly, leaning up on one elbow and dropping
the stones into the bowl. 'I shall never forget that dreadful inn
where there were only blankets on the bed – and such blan
kets!'

‘
I know. Your tender patrician skin ought never to be
touched by anything less than silk,' Farraline said. He leaned
across and pushed the fiery mass of her hair away from one
white shoulder, and kissed it. 'You look so magnificent when
you're naked – like a beautiful wild cat, a glorious gold-
striped tigress.' He kissed her neck and cheek, and she turned
her lips briefly and received a kiss there, too, before going
back to the cherries. 'I knew,' he went on, 'the first time I saw
you, on the sands at Scarborough, that you would look
wonderful sprawled naked across a bed.'

‘
Shocking!' she said, drawing a stalk out of her mouth. 'I
was a pure young girl – how could you think such a thing?'

‘
Experience. I knew that very instant that one day there
would be something wonderful between us.'

‘
Faddle. You were after Sophie – you told me so yourself.’

‘
Oh, to marry, yes. But you I wanted for quite other
reasons.'

‘
One woman for one thing, and another for another. How
horrid and practical you are, Mr Farraline.'