The Devil's Web Page 12

  “Sometimes people need to be alone for a while,” Madeline said after a short pause. “Perhaps he finds the house crowded. He has been used to being alone. Very alone for four years.”

  “Yes.” Alexandra frowned. “I thought when he first returned that he was changed. He seemed confident and happy. He had lost that brooding and haunted look that was his mask for several years. But it is coming back.”

  Madeline swallowed. “Perhaps he is like Dom,” she said. “Dom hates saying good-bye. He always says that he wishes he could snap his fingers the day before he is due to go somewhere and be gone, all farewells unsaid. Perhaps he is thinking that he will have to say good-bye again in a few weeks’ time to you and your mama and papa.”

  “Perhaps,” Alexandra said with a sigh. “I had hoped … Oh, Madeline, I had hoped … But it doesn’t matter. It is time I took the children back to Nanny Rey before Christopher falls in the water. Are you coming?”

  “I think I’ll stay here for a while,” Madeline said, “and be utterly lazy. There is no more delicious combination than grass and sunshine.”

  She might even sleep, she thought a few minutes later, watching the bright glow of her eyelids and feeling the pleasant warmth of the sun on her face.

  Lady Lampman’s niece, Priscilla, was paying a visit with her new husband and the latter’s older brother. And Miss Letitia Stanhope had sighed just the day before over the handsomeness of Captain Hands of the local regiment. She would meet both of the single gentlemen that evening. And perhaps more officers too. Perhaps none of them would be eligible in any way. And perhaps they would.

  But however it was, that evening she was going to begin a new life. Within the next year at the longest she was going to find herself a husband. And if she chose with the head and not the heart, she ought not to find the task difficult at all. She was fortunate enough still to have her looks and still to be attractive to men. And many of the men of her acquaintance were perfectly sensible and kindly.

  She had frightened herself in London with the realization that she really was a spinster relative, a hanger-on, tolerated because she was a sister, and even loved by both Edmund and Dominic and, she thought, by their wives. But nevertheless, she did not belong with either of them, or even with her mother, who had a life of her own and was enjoying her independence. There was nowhere where she really belonged.

  But she would belong. Even a dreary marriage would be preferable to spinster status. And there was no reason why any marriage she chose to make should be dreary.

  She was going to put behind her an infatuation, an obsession that had lived with her for four whole years, even when she had not realized it. Every good man with whom she might have allied herself in that time had been rejected because he did not have the thin dark face or the burning, penetrating eyes, or the wayward lock of dark hair or the brooding morose nature or the compelling sexuality of James Purnell.

  No longer. The sensible part of her knew that even if the obstacles to their marrying could be removed—and they could be removed quite easily, since there was no insurmountable barrier between them—it would be the unwisest move of her life to marry him. She wanted him, she ached for him, with far more than mere lust. But she would never be happy with him. There was just something there that made it impossible for them ever to be happy with each other.

  And so she must let him go when he left. She must watch him go and steel herself against all the agony that that would involve—for try as she would to be nonchalant, she knew that there would be agony. And then she must let him go into her past, into the past of nostalgia and mild regrets. Into the past so that he would have no influence whatsoever on either her present or her future.

  Tonight her new life would begin—a new life as yet unknown, but neither a tragic nor a dreary life. It was not in her nature to turn inward upon herself and brood upon an unhappiness that could not be helped. So there was some goodness, some happiness, ahead. And perhaps that evening she would see a glimmering of what it might be.

  It was an exciting thought. Madeline drifted off to sleep.

  THE MORTONS were not able to offer their guests any dancing, much to the mortification of Mrs. Morton, who had never been able to persuade Mr. Morton that they needed a pianoforte when they already possessed a spinet on which the girls could practice their scales. A spinet was all very well for scales and finger exercises, she had always argued to deaf ears, which in more private moments she had sometimes called doltish among other lowering things. But it was no good at all for musical evenings with one’s friends. And absolutely impossible for dancing.

  Their son-in-law, dear Hetty’s husband, Colin, was, of course, proficient on the violin, but it was humiliating to expect one’s guests to dance to its scrapings when the Courtneys could always call upon the skill and experience of Miss Letitia Stanhope to play their pianoforte, which they had bought years before even though they had had but the one girl. And the Earl of Amberley, of course, always hired a whole orchestra to play for the summer ball.

  Mrs. Morton made the best of a bad situation by organizing cards and charades, and sharpening her conversational skills, and having colored lanterns hung in the trees all about the terrace and lawns, and having her cook prepare such mounds of food and bowls of punch that the Courtneys would be clearly outdone. Not that one wanted to outdo one’s neighbors, of course, she explained to a husband whose nose was deeply buried in a horse journal. But the Courtneys would have all the advantage of their dance.

  It was gratifying to find, though, on the evening of the party, that all the guests arrived in the highest of spirits. The dowager Countess of Amberley and Sir Cedric Harvey were smiling and gracious, and Lady Beckworth amiable, though she asked to be seated as far as possible from the open French windows in the drawing room. Lord Beckworth had declined to come on account of his health, poor man.

  Mr. Carrington loudly declared to Mr. Morton that they must suffer through another evening of what the ladies considered to be genteel entertainment, and Mr. Morton chuckled his appreciation, while Mr. Courtney’s stays creaked from his laughter. Mrs. Carrington looked reproachfully at her husband and assured everyone within hearing that he was teasing.

  All the other neighbors arrived in good time and good spirits. Sir Peregrine made Miss Letitia blush by admiring her new cap, although it was not new, that flustered and pleased lady confided to Mrs. Courtney. But dear Sir Perry was very kind. And such a mischief he had been as a child, too. Did Mrs. Courtney remember the time when …? And the two ladies were off into a comfortable coze.

  Lady Lampman presented her niece to the company, though most of them remembered her from a visit she had made with her mama and papa and grandpapa a few years before. Now she had acquired a good-looking young man for a husband. They all greeted Mr. Henry Clark and his even better-looking older brother, Sir Gordon Clark. Such a head of auburn curls he had, and such a fine figure of a man for all the young ladies to fight over.

  Not that he was the only one, of course. Captain Hands, with his dark hair and curled mustache, was a very distinguished gentleman indeed, and Lieutenant Cowley of pleasing countenance. And there was neither a Mrs. Hands nor a Mrs. Cowley.

  Anna Carrington and Jean Cameron had their heads together and were doing a deal of whispering and giggling and looking conscious. And Lady Madeline was bright-eyed and glowing as she had always been for as far back as anyone could remember. And exciting the notice of the captain, if not that of all three new gentlemen to the neighborhood.

  Lady Amberley had been gracious enough to put in an appearance with the earl. She never had put on airs since acquiring the title four years before. She sat by the windows with Lady Lampman beside her to keep her company, though the earl rarely took his eyes from her for more than five minutes at a time, any more than Sir Perry did from his lady.

  Mr. Watson sat beside his new wife while she blushed and made conversation with Hetty. Mr. Watson, that quiet poet farmer, was clearly in love.

&
nbsp; And Mr. Purnell was as quiet a gentleman as he had been several years before when he had first come to Amberley with his sister, before her marriage. And as handsome a gentleman, despite the dark bronzing of his complexion, which must have come of being out in the sun without a hat. He would lose all his hair that way before he was forty, if he were not careful. See if he wouldn’t.

  Altogether, Mrs. Morton thought, as her guests settled in for an evening’s modest entertainment, she could feel thoroughly satisfied with all the work she had done and all the anxieties she had suffered and all the sleep she had lost worrying that something would go wrong.

  Her party was going to be a success.

  “THOSE CURLS!” Anna was whispering to Jean. “Don’t you just long to wind them around your fingers?”

  They both smothered laughter.

  “He is quite well-looking,” Jean said, taking another look at Sir Gordon Clark. “Are you being untrue to Mr. Chambers already, Anna?”

  “Pooh!” the girl said. “He did not even make me an offer before we came home. He merely said that he would do himself the honor of calling upon me next spring when we were in town. I would not give him the satisfaction of remaining single that long.”

  “You are not nursing a broken heart?” Jean asked.

  Anna giggled. “The only time I had a broken heart,” she said, “was when Dominic told me last summer that I must stop telling everyone that I was going to marry him. I had been doing so since I was ten years old, you know. It had come to be a habit. And almost indecently soon after that he betrothed himself to Ellen. And when I was all ready to see him as a noble figure of tragedy—because she was already increasing, you see, and he was doing the decent thing—it became very obvious to me that he was also head over ears in love with her. That was very lowering to the spirits, believe me.”

  “You speak of Lord Eden?” Jean asked. “He is very handsome.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Anna said. “I have never met a man more so. But Sir Gordon Clark has definite possibilities. And the added attraction of a dimpled chin, Jean. My heart is quite aflutter, as my eyelashes will be if I do not school them to propriety. I do hope Madeline does not decide to set her cap at him, for she will surely win him if she does.”

  Jean smiled and nodded across the room to where Madeline was in close and animated conversation with Captain Hands. “There is your answer, perhaps,” she said.

  Anna put her head to one side and studied the captain from head to foot. “A little too broad in the shoulders and chest,” she said. “And I have never admired mustaches, have you, Jean? I imagine they would tickle.”

  Again the smothered giggles.

  “Not the gentleman himself,” Anna said, “but the lady kissing him. Have you ever been kissed, Jean? It is the most delightful experience, I do assure you. I let Mr. Chambers kiss me on two separate occasions, though I am sorry now that I did. And he did not do it near as well as Mr. Sindon did it last year. Have you allowed Mr. Purnell to kiss you yet?”

  “James?” Jean said, startled out of the giggles.

  “Gracious, no. Why should I let James kiss me? Or why would he want to?”

  Anna looked at her with some interest. “I thought he was your beau,” she said. “Is that not what everyone thinks? Is that not why you are here?”

  Jean flushed. “James my beau?” she said. “But of course not. He is old. I think he must be thirty or close to it. The same age as Duncan. He is like Duncan to me, only very much kinder. He is not my beau.”

  “Oh,” Anna said. “I wish I had known sooner. For he is definitely the second most handsome man I have ever known and I liked him exceedingly when he was here last, for he was the only one of the adults who took any notice of me at all except for Dominic. And I remember how my heart fluttered when he returned this year and we met him and you at that concert in London. But I thought he was yours, and I decided to do the honorable thing and not steal him from you.”

  This time the giggling was so noticeable that Mrs. Carrington looked meaningfully at Anna.

  “We will have to find you a beau as well, then,” Anna said. “Not Sir Gordon, because I have first claim. And not Captain Hands, because he has eyes for no one but Madeline at this precise moment. And that mustache would definitely tickle. It will have to be Lieutenant Cowley, I’m afraid. The kindest thing that can be said about him is that he is pleasant looking. And he does have a rather sweet smile. There is, of course, Howard Courtney—” Anna glanced to her mother and decided not to giggle again, “if you fancy being a farmer’s wife.”

  “It must be a very pleasant life,” Jean said somewhat wistfully. “In this part of the world, anyway.”

  Anna looked at her and forgot her resolve not to laugh. “Oh, famous!” she said. “We will marry you to Howard and keep you in the neighborhood for the rest of your life.”

  “Sh!” Jean said, and flushed.

  The two girls were soon separated by the necessity of playing charades with the other young people. Sir Peregrine chose Jean to be on his team, and James Purnell chose Anna to be on his.

  “But Sir Perry is bound to win,” Anna protested loudly, “for he and Madeline are by far the best players at charades for miles around.” But she was pacified at the fact that she had been chosen first by Mr. Purnell and that Sir Gordon Clark was also on her team. She winked at Jean when Sir Peregrine named Howard Courtney.

  Anna did not get her kiss that evening, much to her chagrin, even though both Sir Gordon and the lieutenant were sitting with her at one point in the evening, and though Sir Gordon walked out into the garden with her. Unfortunately, his brother and sister-in-law chose to accompany them. And the garden looked so very romantic that Anna could have cried.

  Both Jean and Madeline were kissed.

  Jean strolled out on the terrace after the charades were over with James and the earl and countess. And she looked up at James and saw that indeed he was handsome and not so very old after all. But she smiled at Anna’s suggestion that he was her beau. When he smiled back at her, she almost shared the joke with him, but his sister and brother-in-law were close by and might think such a topic of conversation indelicate.

  “I like all these people,” she said instead. “I am having such a very good time, James. Are you?”

  He smiled down into her eyes just like a very dear brother and covered her hand with his. “Yes, I am, Jean,” he said. “What are you going to do for enjoyment next winter, I wonder, after having such a wonderful time here?”

  “I shall relive it all,” she said, “and spend my time dreaming. And I will have you to reminisce with, for you will not start back into the interior until next spring, will you?”

  But when they went back inside, she saw Howard Courtney sitting all alone, and though he did not look unhappy, she could not bear that anyone not share the warm glow that the evening was bringing her. She went to sit beside him.

  “Do you spend many such sociable evenings?” she asked. “You must be very thankful to live in such a neighborhood if you do.”

  “I could not imagine living anywhere else, Miss Cameron,” he said.

  “You have never dreamed of traveling?” she asked.

  Howard pondered a moment. “No,” he said.

  Jean smiled warmly at him. “I can very well understand why,” she said. “When you live in surely the loveliest part of the world, there is little point in traveling elsewhere, is there?”

  “I feel exactly that way,” he said. “Though I have not been anywhere else, of course, to compare. I have to go to London in the autumn for my sister’s wedding. It will be my first visit there.”

  “You will like it,” she said, “and then be so happy to come home again.”

  “Would you care for a walk outside?” he asked. “Everyone else seems to be out there.”

  “I have just come in,” she said. “But it is far cooler and lovelier out there.” She jumped to her feet.

  And when they were outside and she took his arm
and closed her eyes and breathed in deeply and exclaimed on the scent of roses, he took her to see them, though the rose garden was around at the side of the house and not lit by the lanterns and could not be seen clearly at all. But it could be smelled.

  “I will never forget this scent,” she said. “We have roses in Montreal, but there is something special about the smell here. I will always think of it as the smell of England. I love England.”

  And that was when Howard kissed her. A fumbling kiss, surely his first as it was hers. He kissed first her cheek in the darkness and then her lips. And though the embrace lasted only a brief few seconds and was conducted with closed lips and bodies not touching, they were both breathless when it was finished and both thankful for the darkness that hid their blushes.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  “I am not,” she said hurriedly.

  “I had better take you back to the lawn,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. I should not have brought you here.”

  “But I’m glad you did, Mr. Courtney,” she said, taking his arm and tripping along at his side as he hurried around the path that led to the back of the house and the lawns and the lanterns.

  And if he was not exactly handsome, she thought, blushing anew at the thought of her first kiss and smiling though there was no one to see her in the darkness, then it really did not matter. For he was courteous and kindly, and she felt comfortable with him despite the blushes. And he worked hard to earn an honest living just as her papa and Duncan did.

  MADELINE DID NOT FLIRT. ALTHOUGH HER cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone and her lips were curved into a smile, and although her whole manner sparkled through much of the evening, her behavior was wholly spontaneous. She felt happy. She had made a decision, and she was going to live with it.

  She liked Captain Hands as soon as she met him. He was not a great deal taller than she, but his broad and strongly muscled chest and shoulders gave the illusion of height. And being a soldier, he bore himself well. He had a handsome enough face and his dark brown hair was thick and shining.