Chapter 34
Bea found it impossible to sleep. She was still wide awake at a very late hour when she heard Cecilia creeping up the stairs and softly closing the door of her chamber.
The old house creaked, and it was not possible to be entirely silent, however careful one was.
These clandestine meetings with Major Bartrum seemed to be happening every night – but she was really in no position to judge.
She had looked forward to an afternoon in Vivienne’s company, even if it had always been doubtful that they might snatch any time alone, but the revelations about her brothers had tarnished that pleasure.
She could not wish herself ignorant, because an uncomfortable truth was still a truth.
And now she was forced to consider any number of unwelcome thoughts.
To fear that she and her sisters might not be safe with the Pallant men was bad enough.
To know that other women had not been safe in the past was worse.
But what tormented her in particular was the suspicion of Vivienne’s complicity.
Once they’d arrived home, Cecilia had described her sense of disagreeable collusion; that the Pallant brothers had parcelled out Cecilia and Bianca slickly between them, each taking a sister as what she could only see as his chosen prey.
This rang true with her; she had seen this division in operation this afternoon, and like her sister, could not doubt that it was the result of deliberate plotting.
Bianca too had agreed that that was what it had felt like.
But Bianca probably thought that she, Beatrice, was irrelevant to all that, no doubt because she was the oldest, almost past marriageable age at six and twenty, and therefore seen as by far the poorest catch, despite still being an heiress.
Bianca might even believe that Vivienne had been invited to the picnic to distract her, knowingly or not, to allow each of the brothers to charm their chosen sister uninterrupted, while making them feel safe in feminine company.
But Cecilia knew that Vivienne had meant to seduce Bea, possibly from their very first meeting, and that she had essentially succeeded.
Ceci had been too kind to take her apart privately and spell out all the horrible implications of that.
But there was no need; she could work it out for herself.
Bea rose from her cosy bed, which didn’t feel quite so safe and comfortable tonight, and paced restlessly about her outer chamber.
She had lain in that bed with Vivienne through a long afternoon and shared the greatest possible intimacy with her.
It had been wonderful, or had seemed wonderful at the time.
Afterwards, she had told herself with a warm glow that they had both recognised an irresistible attraction, and succumbed to it – a delightful surprise, when she had almost resigned herself to being alone forever.
But now she questioned how genuine the connection had ever been on Vivienne’s part.
Three siblings, all instantly struck by three sisters, who just happened to be heiresses.
It was so obviously implausible as soon as one formulated the thought.
Which posed the question: was Lord Pallant’s sister also complicit in their wicked plan?
And had Bea been a na?ve fool to let her succeed so easily?
Bea had sometimes thought that she could identify women like herself when she met them.
Even if there was no instant attraction, there might be an assessing glance that lingered a second longer than was usual, a nod, a smile…
And when there was attraction, that would be magnified; there would be blushes, maybe a fleeting touch of the hands, and one would know.
This was obviously true, because the woman who had first opened her eyes to pleasure had known that she would not run away screaming and calling for the constable when she kissed her, and Vivienne had been sure of something similar when she had put her arm about her and so gently but so unmistakably begun to caress her. Damn her, damn her, damn her.
It was possible that this unconventional seduction could be a master stroke on His Lordship’s part.
He would have to be ruthless beyond all normal measure to use his young sister so, but very well, say he was all that.
Vivienne and Bea could not marry, there was no official way that her fortune could fall into their hands, but if the brothers won and wed Cecilia and Bianca, nobody would think it all strange if she and Vivienne lived together, with one or other couple or even on their own as spinsters and effective siblings.
Such arrangements were seen every day and nobody thought them the least odd.
And once that happened, once she was in the Pallants’ power too, there was no knowing what might happen to her and to her money.
One thing was sure – she wouldn’t be marrying anyone else and passing control of it to him.
Which could only be highly convenient for the Pallants.
For Lord Pallant, most of all, who appeared to control his younger siblings like two pretty puppets.
No wonder she couldn’t find any rest. To suspect all this was one thing.
To have the least idea what she should do about it was quite another.
If she confronted Vivienne with these disturbing thoughts, she wasn’t sure if she could believe any denial she might give, however indignant and tear-stained, and her brother would then be warned, and might perhaps be provoked to some drastic action, if he was indeed sufficiently impoverished and desperate.
But if Miss Pallant was entirely innocent of any conspiracy, Bea would have destroyed by her own choice what lay between them, before there had even been a chance to see if it might develop into something more lasting.
Opportunities for happiness were rare for everybody, it seemed to her, but much rarer for women of her kind.
And she might never know, not for sure, what she had done.
In either case, she’d be alone. And somehow, even though nothing would really have changed in her life, it would feel worse than it ever had before.