Chapter 15 Unexpected Visitors #2
“Yes, yes, but there was no denying her!” Lord Daniel said, seizing eagerly on this point. “She was wild to see you again, and since you could not come to her, nothing would do for her but to come to you instead. She would have made herself ill with worry if we had not humoured her.”
“I had not thought her so poor-spirited as to go into a decline for such a trivial reason.”
“Trivial? Trivial? Ha! These things are not trivial to a girl of eighteen. M’father thinks—” He stopped, took a long draught of port, then went on at a rush, “M’father thinks she would be best married quickly… settle her down, you see. No need to fret about you once you are wed. Do you see?”
Lance gazed at him thoughtfully. Slowly he said, “A girl of eighteen who is so unsettled might be better off delaying any thought of marriage until she is more at ease with life.”
“No, no! Better to marry at once, because who knows what she might do otherwise? Why, she might meet someone else and then you would lose her altogether and you would hardly wish to risk that, would you? No, no, you want her to be happy, I am sure, as we all do. No reason not to marry at once… get a bishop’s licence, and you would be man and wife in a couple of days, and just think how happy you will be.
Everyone will be delighted for you. M’father would be delighted.
You will not want to risk her becoming… distracted, will you? ”
He was gabbling, Lance could see. He had no idea what the purpose was of this sudden rush to the altar, especially as it was the Torbucks themselves who had specified May or June, giving Patience another season of freedom before surrendering herself to marriage and motherhood.
It was not unreasonable, given her age. But all that was swept away, and Lance could not see why.
“If the Lady Patience is distractable,” he said coldly, “it is better for everyone to discover it before marriage rather than after. If she cannot wait another three or four months to marry, then perhaps we are not as well suited as I thought. What happened about that curricle pair you had in your eye last summer? Did you buy them in the end?”
His face lit up. “The greys? Oh yes, and they are such sweet steppers. The compliments I have had about them, and Harrison offered me twice what I had paid for them, but I would not part with them, not for a king’s ransom. Now, my new hunters…”
And for the rest of their time in the dining room, Lance had nothing to do beyond throwing out an occasional question to keep Lord Daniel in full flow about horses.
When they joined the ladies in the White Drawing Room, Lance made sure to stay a step behind Lord Daniel as they entered the room, and so had a clear view of Lady Pentavon’s questioning look, and Lord Daniel’s almost imperceptible shake of the head.
All his suspicions were now aroused. The family were clearly determined to see Patience married off as soon as possible, in the hope that marriage would settle her recent erratic behaviour.
He had no fear that she would jilt him, for surely she was not as flighty as all that, but there was no doubt that she was in a strange mood.
Perhaps her parents were right, and she wanted only a husband to achieve a calm demeanour, but what if they were wrong?
What if there were some more fundamental flaw in Patience’s character?
What if the wildness of which Lord Daniel spoke was a manifestation of some kind of insanity?
To discover that later, when one was bound to her for life, would be too appalling to contemplate.
So when Patience ran across the room to claim him and looked up at him with shining eyes and told him he had stayed away too long, when all she wanted was to be with him, he listened gravely and patted her hand where it rested on his sleeve but he hardened his heart against her.
He determined that he would not marry her before May at the earliest, and if she became distracted or had an episode of wildness in the meantime, well, he would know then that he was better off without her.
They played backgammon in a desultory fashion, for Patience had no aptitude for the game, even when she bent her mind to it, which she gave no sign of doing.
Instead she chattered unstoppably about the house they would live in after they were married, telling him the number of rooms and the size of each one, and plaintively wishing that they were living there already.
She made no mention of the relatives already living there.
Lance gave noncommittal answers, making deliberate errors in play so that she could win sometimes, and noticing how often she paused and looked speculatively at him, as if wondering whether her tactics were working.
But now that he was aware of the ploy, he could not be swayed by it.
He was happy to respond to her affectionate overtures in similar terms, but he made no comment on her inducements to marriage.
As soon as they had drunk their tea, she said, “I am so tired, I shall retire early. Will you escort me to my room, darling Lance?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Her mother smiled complacently as they passed by, and the Merrington ladies all sighed gustily and twittered happily together. He gave Charlotte a little smile, and he could have sworn she winked at him.
Upstairs, he set the candle down on the table outside the Gold Chamber, but Patience, giggling a little, tugged him further on. “I asked for a room of my own,” she said, simpering and lowering her eyes. “As if I should wish to share with Mama! There is no shortage of rooms here, after all.”
She stopped at the next door along, and before he could say a word, had snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down.
Lance had no objection to that! A kiss from a man to his future wife was perfectly acceptable, and so he entered into the business with enthusiasm, and was thrilled when Patience responded in kind.
This was the real Patience, the genuinely warm woman and not the strange, clinging creature she had appeared to be.
“Oh, Lance!” she breathed as they emerged, somewhat breathless, a little while later. “This is so public. Will you come inside for a while, so that we can—?”
And with those words, all the heat of the kiss fled, and he was ice cold again. “Into your bedroom? You forget yourself, Patience.”
“But we are to be married, so—”
“We are not married yet.”
“If you loved me, you would want to!”
“I do want to, very much,” he snapped, “but it would be unforgivable of me to take advantage of your generous good nature. Good night, my dear. Sleep well.”
He turned and strode back to the stairs, too shocked even to find another candle to light his path.
He had to feel his way down to the half-landing, where the glow from below dimly filtered upwards.
Then he played ferocious piquet against Lord Daniel, relieving him of eighty pounds, before realising that everyone else had gone to bed.
Denny was waiting for him when Lance reached his own room.
“Well?” the valet said as he eased the coat off. “What do you think?”
“About what in particular?”
“You know perfectly well.”
Lance tore off his neckcloth, screwed it into a ball and threw it at Denny’s head. “I am not in the mood for your games, my friend. Say what you want to say, then leave me in peace.”
“Hmm. I think you have answered my question, anyway. Clearly you know that she is the one playing games. If you still doted on her, I should have said nothing, naturally, but when you snarl at me like a caged wolf, well…”
“A caged wolf? I am not caged yet, you know.”
“And do you still plan to step into her cage?”
Lance stilled. “We are betrothed, and I am honour bound to walk into that cage, if she wishes it. You think I should not? She has made a misstep today, but she will come to herself… surely she will. Do you not think so?”
“The question you must answer, friend,” Denny said, “is which is the real Patience, the gently restrained one or the… forgive me, but the brazen hussy who hangs off your arm like a lightskirt.”
“A lightskirt! Retract those words!”
“Now, now, you must not call me out, Lance, for you know I could skewer you with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Ha! I should like to see you try! But seriously, Denny, you must not talk about lightskirts and Patience in the same breath. She is a lady to the core of her being.” Yet even as he spoke, he recalled her inviting him into her bedroom, and late at night, too, when anything could happen.
Surely that was just her innocence. She could not know the possible consequences of such an invitation.
“She may be a lady,” Denny said, gathering up discarded items of clothing, “but she is up to something and I should not like you to be taken advantage of, that is all. Let us not fall out over it, my old friend.”
“Of course not,” Lance said, with a half-smile. “I agree there is something… not quite right about this sudden start of hers, but I shall see how it plays out before I make any irrevocable decisions. Now go away, for heaven’s sake, and leave me to get some sleep.”
But when Denny had gone, Lance did not get into bed.
Instead, he poured himself a brandy and sat down at the desk in the window.
From a drawer, he brought out a sketch book, its pages well filled.
As he leafed through them, Patience’s lovely face gazed out at him, her eyes clear and unafraid.
Such happy times, back in the summer, when he had admired her wholeheartedly and little by little she had responded, as gently as a rose unfurling its petals.
Page after page he looked at, remembering.
Yes, that one! There he had captured the hint of mischief in her expression.
He was rather proud of his work there. Yet he had never suspected that it signalled anything more than schoolgirl exuberance…
a liking for jokes and teasing, perhaps.
Now he wondered. What was going on in that lovely head of hers? And why did it make him feel as if something precious had been spoilt?
If he had been asleep, he would never have heard the click of the door opening, and perhaps his life would have been irrevocably different. But he was not asleep, he did hear and so he was on his feet, his sword stick in his hand, before the flickering candle flame was beyond the door.
“What do you want?” he called out gruffly.
The candle wavered. “Lance?” came a small voice.
“Patience?”
He crossed the room in a few strides, and hurled open the door. Her face was streaked with tears, and for a moment he had an overpowering urge to take her in his arms and hold her close and kiss her and—
But that was madness! Neither of them wore anything other than a nightgown and robe, and he knew perfectly well where such kisses would end.
“Go back to bed, Patience,” he said, trying to subdue the tremor in his voice. Lord, how she tempted him!
“But I am so unhappy! I made you angry… you are not angry, are you? Will you not let me kiss you and—”
“No! What the devil are you thinking?” Anger, that was the way of it. Righteous anger would suppress this terrible desire to do exactly what she asked of him.
“I love you, Lance. Will you not show me that you love me, too? I am so unhappy.”
“Then go and weep on your mother’s shoulder,” he hissed at her, his rage rising with every word she spoke. “Get out of my room, now!”
He half pushed her out into the corridor, closed the door, then fumbled to turn the key in the lock. She must not come back in, at all costs.
He leaned his forehead against the door, eyes closed in misery. For now he knew exactly why she had come to find him.