The Second Lady Southvale (13 page)

She went to put on her warm brown velvet cloak and her gypsy hat, for which she chose wide brown satin ribbons. Annie had already dressed her hair into a fine knot from which tumbled a number of thin ringlets, and all she had to do was recomb the framing of little soft curls around her face.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for what was bound to be a somewhat strained occasion, she left the pagoda room to go down to where he still awaited her. A maid waited discreetly by the door.

His glance swept over Rosalind as she descended the
staircase
, and he smiled. ‘How suitable for a walk, Miss Carberry,’ he said.

She gave him a smile of sorts, but didn’t respond. He sounded so pleasant and charming that it was difficult to recall how he’d been the evening before, but she could and did recall that other Gerald Beaufort, and it was enough for her to use a very long spoon when supping with him.

He retrieved his top hat, gloves, and cane from the table, and then offered her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

She rested her hand only lightly over his sleeve and didn’t enjoy even that small contact. She didn’t like him, she wished Lady Eleanor hadn’t asked him to come here today, and she wished the walk was already over and done with.

Followed by the maid, they emerged from the grounds of
Southvale House through the postern gate just below the terrace. She glanced up at the rotunda as they passed, and she saw that a maid was engaged in polishing the windows. The gardener she’d seen earlier was still busy, and there were two others and a boy with him now. All the potted plants had evidently been carried out to their allotted places, but now the path was being raked, nearby shrubs were being pruned, and the fallen leaves were being gathered so that the grass before Lord Southvale’s residence was clear and green. They all paused as Rosalind and Gerald walked by, the maid still following, and after touching their hats respectfully, continued with their work. Rosalind could feel their speculative gazes following her, however, and wondered what the talk was among the servants. No doubt they were taken up with little else but the astonishing arrival of a prospective new Lady Southvale – an American one at that.

Gerald escorted her along the path and then north into the broad gravel walk she’d noticed earlier. It connected the Piccadilly end of the park with the Mall in the south, and was a place where a number of ladies and gentlemen strolled
enjoying
the sun. The buildings of Picadilly faced her, as did the northern boundary wall of the park, and in front of that she could see the shining stretch of water she’d observed from the rotunda while waiting for Katherine.

Gerald was determined to be agreeable and informative. ‘This is the Queen’s Walk,’ he told her. ‘It’s named after Queen Caroline, consort of King George the Second. It seems she wished to be able to walk privately in the park from St James’s Palace, and so this was originally not open to the public.’

He smiled. ‘Royalty considers itself to be vastly superior to the rest of us, Miss Carberry, and Queen Caroline thought it a little more than most. We have to thank her for her interest in parks, however, for she was responsible for a great many improvements. Besides, it was her desire to exclude the rest of us that led to her early demise. There used to be a summer
pavilion here, built solely for her, and she took to using it in all weathers. She went to it one particularly cold November day, sat there a little too long, and caught a severe chill, from which she died ten days later. Her private walk has been available to the rest of us for some time now, as are all the other royal parks.’

They strolled on, and the rectangular stretch of water ahead became easier to make out. Small boys were sailing toy boats on it, and there were some ducks.

Gerald saw her looking at it. ‘It’s the reservoir belonging to the Chelsea Water Works. There’s always a great deal of water in the park, because the Tyburn stream passes beneath it. This reservoir, and another one in Hyde Park, close to Park Lane, provides water for Mayfair.’ He pointed his cane toward Piccadilly and the elegant streets to the north beyond it.

‘Where do you live, Mr Beaufort?’ she asked, remembering that the footman Richardson had sent looking for him
yesterday
had mentioned a house in Piccadilly.

Gerald pointed with his cane again. ‘Do you see that house with the blue-painted dormer windows in the roof?’

‘The narrow, four-storey one?’

‘Yes.’

‘That is Maison Beaufort; at least, it will be for the next six months, after which my lease runs out and I’ll be thrown out on the street.’

‘Gambling debts?’ she asked directly.

His hazel eyes flickered over her. ‘Yes, Miss Carberry, gambling debts. Do you disapprove?’

‘I can’t say I find it laudable, but it does seem to be the way of a great many gentlemen, including my own brother.’

He smiled a little wryly. ‘But I’ll warrant your brother hasn’t plunged in quite as deep as me and that the duns aren’t
beginning
to gather in packs at his door.’

‘No, it hasn’t come to that yet.’

‘Don’t believe it when you’re told there aren’t wolves in
Britain anymore, Miss Carberry, for there are, only now they’re called debt-collectors. It’s a novel experience being the hunted, not the hunter, and I’ve become quite cunning.’

‘I’m sure you have. Is there nothing you can do to placate them?’

‘I keep hoping to win vast sums at the green baize.’

‘A downward spiral, sir.’

‘So it increasingly seems. I’ll have to find myself a rich bride, Miss Carberry.’

They reached the edge of the reservoir and paused for a moment to watch the toy boats bobbing on the water, then they turned to walk westward, parallel with Piccadilly, the noise of which was now tremendous. Hooves and wheels clattered, men shouted, dogs barked, stagecoach horns sounded, and various street calls rang out, from a woman selling lavender bags to a pieman recommending everyone to try his delicious hot wares.

Another path led southwest toward the center of the park, and Gerald led her along it, away from the bustle of the street. A light breeze had sprung up, rustling through the autumn leaves and toying with the hem of Rosalind’s cloak. She could see the impressive façade of Buckingham House away to the south, and the rise of Constitution Hill, which got its name, so Gerald informed her, from the fact that King Charles the Second had enjoyed taking the air there after his triumphant return to his realm.

Gerald put himself out to be as attentive and interesting as he could, telling her everything he could think of about the park and its surroundings. But he didn’t mention the mysterious mound in the middle, close to the two low hills. She could see the mound more clearly now and the rather eerie, delapidated building surmounting it.

At last her curiosity got the better of her. ‘What is that
building
over there, Mr Beaufort?’

‘King Charles the Second’s icehouse, or what’s left of it. Apparently he liked his wines and cordials cooled in the hot
summer months, and so he had a very deep pit dug just there. The mound enclosed it, making sure it stayed cool, and the building kept it all safe from the weather. Ice was collected in the depths of winter, placed in the pit and covered with straw, bracken, sacking, and anything else they could think of. It all stayed cold enough for there to be ice constantly available for his royal table.’

‘I do know what an icehouse is, sir, for we have them in America.’

He smiled apologetically. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound patronizing.’

‘Could we go closer?’

‘If you wish, but it isn’t very pleasant. In fact, it’s rather gloomy. It’s falling apart, to be quite honest, and I doubt if it will remain there for much longer.’

They left the path and walked through the fallen leaves on the grass. The maid followed at a discreet distance.

‘How does London compare with Washington, Miss Carberry?’ asked Gerald, ducking his head beneath a
low-hanging
branch.

‘The cities are so very different that they can’t really be compared.’

‘Do you miss your home?’

‘Yes.’ She looked away, for thinking about her home and family made her feel suddenly sad. She was only too conscious of how very far away they were right now.

The icehouse was indeed a gloomy place, and very cold indeed. It was built of stone, and was only one storey high. Its windows were small and little more than slits, and its door hung open on only one ancient hinge.

The maid lingered a little way away as Rosalind stepped tentatively inside, shivering as the dank air folded over her. She could hear water dripping somewhere and see wisps of ancient straw lying on the uneven floor.

Gerald’s shadow fell across the doorway behind her.

‘That’s the pit over there, and it’s very, very deep, so don’t go near it.’ He pointed to one side.

She turned and saw the yawning black hole in the floor. It was from there that the dripping sound was coming. She
shuddered
a little, for there was something almost ominous about the place. ‘I – I think I’ve seen enough,’ she said, turning and going out again.

He stood aside, grinning. ‘I did warn you that it wasn’t exactly pleasant. But it is interesting. One can imagine the merry monarch demanding his chilled wine on a baking hot summer day.’

‘I’ll warrant it wasn’t as dismal in his day,’ she replied,
glancing
back through the doorway, glad to be out in the sunshine again.

‘Probaby not.’ He smiled. ‘I’m sure crumbling icehouses aren’t what you came all this way to see, are they? Visitors to London prefer the grand sights, like the Tower, St Paul’s
cathedral
—’

‘I didn’t come here to be a visitor, sir,’ she interrupted quietly.

His smile faded, and he became more serious. ‘No, I know you didn’t. Again I must ask you to forgive me, for I didn’t mean to suggest that your stay was going to be temporary.’

‘But nevertheless that’s what you do think, isn’t it?’ she asked directly.

‘I don’t know what makes you think that, Miss Carberry.’

‘You make me think it, sir. On several occasions yesterday you seemed so certain that Philip wasn’t going to marry again that I began to think you possessed some private information on the subject.’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘Miss Carberry, I’m afraid I said a great many things yesterday, and I’m not proud of any of them.’

‘Nevertheless, you were certain on that, weren’t you?’

He didn’t respond.

‘Mr Beaufort, you said you wished to make amends for yesterday.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘I’m asking you for your assistance. Why are you so certain that there isn’t going to be a second Lady Southvale?’

His hazel eyes met hers. ‘I don’t want to upset you again, Miss Carberry.’

‘I’ll be more upset if you don’t tell me.’

‘Very well. Philip and my sister were very happy together, theirs was a love match of the very highest quality. He was
grief-stricken
when she, er, went away from him, and people began to wonder if he’d ever recover. Miss Carberry, I didn’t see him at all when he returned from America, but I know that he suddenly had Celia’s portrait put back in the drawing-room. In my opinion, he came back to Southvale House and realized that his feelings for Celia were still too strong to be ended. He fell in love with you in Washington, where he was away from all the past, but back here in London, he was suddenly surrounded by memories again. He really did love her very much, Miss Carberry, and it was the sort of love that I don’t think he can shake off. That’s why I don’t believe he’ll marry again, for when it comes down to it, he can’t contemplate replacing my sister with anyone else.’

Rosalind looked away, for it was only what she’d began to think herself.

‘Miss Carberry,’ he went on gently, ‘I can’t think of any other reason why he hasn’t said anything to us about you.’

She raised her chin. ‘Are you saying you no longer believe I’m an adventuress who stole the signet ring?’

He looked embarrassed. ‘Yes, Miss Carberry, that is what I’m saying.’

‘You’re also saying you think that I’ll soon be on my way home to Washington again.’

‘He isn’t going to marry you, Miss Carberry, for Celia still has first claim on his heart.’

She thought of the portrait, and memories of her dream slid over her, making her shiver again.

He saw the shiver and drew her away from the icehouse. ‘Let’s leave this horrid place. My ten minutes is more than up, I fancy, and I don’t wish to fatigue you anymore, so perhaps it would be best if we returned to the house.’

She nodded, and they began to walk eastward across the park toward Southvale House. The maid brought up the rear, still at a discreet distance.

As they walked, Gerald looked at Rosalind again. ‘Am I forgiven a little for yesterday?’

‘A little.’

‘That will do to be going on with. May I call upon you again? Tomorrow, perhaps?’

‘Mr Beaufort, I’m sure Lady Eleanor won’t expect you to give up another day on my account.’

‘Contrary to what you think, Miss Carberry, I’m quite happy to spend time with you. I know I didn’t give any such
impression
yesterday, but my opinion of you has changed completely. I think you are a very agreeable and interesting person indeed, and the thought of enjoying your company again is very
pleasing
.’

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Do you also stand upon your head, sir?’

‘It has been known,’ he murmured, smiling. ‘May I call upon you again?’

He made her feel uncomfortable, and she nodded, more because she wished to bring the subject to a close than because she wished to agree to his request. She still didn’t like him, although she had to concede that he’d done everything possible to retract his rudeness of the day before.

As they walked into the entrance hall of the house, they found that Lady Eleanor had just that moment returned from her somewhat lengthy breakfast with her friends. She wore a mustard-colored gown and matching pelisse, and a black velvet hat trimmed with several aigrettes. She was standing by the
fireplace
, reading a note she’d found waiting on the table.