By and by she felt herself growing calm. She turned away from the window, knowing she must return to the ballroom before she was missed, but just as she was about to return to the company she saw the door handle turn. She looked around but there was nowhere to hide. She braced herself for the startled look of whoever was about to enter the room, then the door opened and she saw the last person she wanted to see.
It was Lord Deverill.
CHAPTER THREE
“Lord Deverill,” she exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“You left the supper room very quickly,” he said, looking at her intently. “I wondered whether anything was the matter?”
“No,” she said hurriedly. “Nothing at all.”
He did not immediately reply, but by the way he was looking at her she could tell that he did not believe her. Then he said, “I wondered if Elwin had said anything to upset you.”
“Of course not. What could he possibly say that would upset me?”
She spoke with a show of bravado, but she was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he was not deceived. She did not want to tell him what Mr. Elwin had said, however, because it was too humiliating.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “That’s what I am asking you.”
“He didn’t say anything,” she said defiantly.
“In that case, why did you stand up in the middle of supper?”
“Did I?” she prevaricated.
“Yes. You did. You flushed, then looked angry, then half rose from your seat, as though you meant to walk out of the room.”
“You must be mistaken. You were busy talking to the other guests and you must have misunderstood.”
“Then why are you wringing your hands?”
“I’m—” She was about to say, I’m not, when looking down, she realized she was doing just that.
“Why did you stand up?” he asked again.
“I…I have been here too long. I must return to the ballroom, or else Maria will be wondering where I am,” she said.
She walked towards him but he did not move aside and she was forced to step round him, brushing against him as she passed. The contact was unnerving enough, but it was far worse when his hand caught her wrist in a vice-like grip.
“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve told me what Elwin said.”
She was suddenly aware of how large he was. He seemed to have grown so that he almost filled the room.
“Let go,” she said, feeling her pulse start to race. “You’re hurting me.” She wrenched her hand away from him.
“I’m trying to help you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your brother had some dubious friends, Cassandra, and you’d be wise to keep away from them. Now tell me, what did Elwin say?”
“Let me pass,” she said defiantly, raising her head.
“No,” he returned sharply.
“Do you mean to keep me a prisoner here?” she demanded.
“If necessary, yes.”
She looked him in the eye, startled, and saw that he was serious.
“This is abominable,” she said.
“If Elwin said nothing wrong, then you won’t mind telling me what it was,” he remarked steadily.
“It was nothing,” she said, throwing him off. “He told me about the Prince of Wales and his secret marriage, his building plans, and—”
“The truth.”
He folded his arms, which gave him an even bulkier shape in the twilight, and his large body cast dark shadows on the floor.
Cassandra turned away from him and walked over to the mantelpiece, gathering her thoughts. She straightened the clock and fiddled with a candlestick, unwilling to speak, and yet knowing that he would not let her go if she did not. She heard a slight sound of movement and felt him approaching her until she knew he was standing behind her.
“He has said something to upset you,” he said, more gently. “I tried to warn you. I told you that not all of Rupert’s friends were respectable. I didn’t want you to be hurt. What did he say?”
“He said…” She turned to face him. “He said that he would introduce me to some gentlemen who would…who would…”
“Yes?”
She bit her lips, then said, “…who would offer me carte blanche.”
“Ah. I see.”
He didn’t seem surprised. In fact, he seemed relieved. His calm acceptance of it stung her.
“You see nothing wrong in that?” she demanded.
“I see everything wrong in it,” he said.
“But you were expecting worse—though what could be worse, I can’t imagine.”
Even as she said it, her imagination took flight. Perhaps Lord Deverill had suspected that Mr. Elwin would suggest she be passed between gentlemen, instead of being the favoured mistress of one or other of them. She shuddered.
“Keep away from Elwin,” he said. “If Rupert was here, he would say the same. Elwin is not the sort of man you should know.”
“So I have discovered, but have no fear. I never intend to talk to him again.”
Lord Deverill nodded slightly, then said, “It’s possible he might approach you. If he does, I want you to know that you can call on me for help at any time.”
There was something gentle in his tone of voice, and she felt herself relax as the tension started to ebb.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, “but it isn’t your concern.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It is.”
She looked at him enquiringly.
He indicated a chair. She hesitated, and then sat down, curious to know what he meant.
He picked up a tinderbox and lit the candles on the mantelpiece. The small yellow flames flickered into life. As they gained strength they created soft pools of light that glowed in the twilight. He replaced the tinder box and then sat down opposite her. He stretched his legs out in front of him. Light gleamed from the gold ring on his finger, and the diamond pin in his cravat. But it was his eyes that drew Cassandra’s attention, and the finger that stroked his top lip.
He started speaking.
“Your brother made me promise him something, last year, when he lay dying.” He spoke heavily, as though the recollection was not pleasant. “That is why I say it is my concern if you are worried or in difficulties.”
Cassandra was puzzled.
“What kind of promise? And why were you with him when he lay dying? I thought he was riding alone. Were you with him when he fell?”
“Yes. I was.”
His eyes suddenly flickered and dropped to the floor. She had the feeling that he was not seeing her, but that he was seeing the past, reliving the moment when Rupert had been thrown from his horse.
“Did…did he suffer?” she asked in a low voice.
“No. He felt nothing.”
“And…and the end?” asked Cassandra, with a catch in her throat.
He spoke gently. “Was very quick.”
“I have often…” She stopped to collect herself, then began again in a stronger voice. “I have often wondered about that night. I asked Mr. Raistrick about it, but he could tell me nothing. Why was Rupert riding at night? What was he doing? Where was he going? Why was he ignoring the safety of his horse? Was he drunk? Was that the explanation?”
“No, he wasn’t drunk,” he said slowly.
“Then what made him ride across rough country in the dark? Did he do it for a bet? To try and set a record for racing from Brighton to London overnight, perhaps?”
He regarded her intently for a moment, and then said, “It’s impossible to be sure.”
“If the bet was sufficiently large, he might have been tempted to risk his horse,” she said, following her own train of thought. “He had always wanted to find a quick and easy way of repairing the family fortunes, even from the time he was a small boy.” She smiled sadly as she recalled a childhood memory, and began to pleat the skirt of her gown. “When he was eleven years old, he came across an old family jou
rnal in the library, written by my great great great great grandfather. It mentioned that my ancestor had buried the family jewels under a chestnut tree before fleeing to France after the Civil War. Rupert took a spade outside and started digging up one of the chestnut trees! The only way my father could stop him was to show him another journal which he kept in the study. It told of the family’s subsequent uprooting of every chestnut on the estate after their return from France, and their failure to find the treasure.” Her mouth quirked. “My ancestor had had expensive habits, including a very expensive mistress, and my father suspected he had given the jewels to her, claiming to have buried them when the rest of the family asked where they were! But Rupert still dreamed of it, and invented a game of buried treasure: on wet afternoons, he would dream of all the things he would buy if the family jewels were ever found. Winning a large bet would be akin to finding buried treasure.”
She fell silent, thinking of her brother. At last she roused herself.
“You said you made my brother a promise?”
“Yes.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “When I went over to him, it was clear he was dying. He told me that he had two sisters who would be left without any male relative to help them in case of need. He wanted me to promise that I would help you if ever you needed it.”
“But why?” asked Cassandra. “I did not know that the two of you were on such good terms.”
She caught a flash of something in his eye, a curious mixture of pain and anger and regret, but then it was gone, and she was left with the feeling that she must have imagined it.
“I—” he began.
He broke off as a door opened further down the corridor, and the sound of voices could be heard. The voices grew louder, approaching the door.
Cassandra froze. She was alone in a dimly lit ante-room with a gentleman. If she was discovered, her reputation would be ruined. She sprang from her chair. The voices grew louder…and then passed. It had been a narrow escape, but she could not afford to stay there any longer. She had been foolish to remain for so long.
“I must return to the ballroom,” she said, knowing that every minute increased the chance of discovery.
He nodded. “You will call on me if you need any help?” he asked. “You know where I live. A note will bring me to you at any time.”
“Yes. I will. Thank you. But I don’t expect I will see Mr. Elwin again.”
She went over to the door and listened. Everything was quiet. She opened it cautiously and looked out. The corridor was empty. She slipped out of the room and made her way back to the ballroom, drawn by the sound of music.
The ballroom seemed dazzling. After the dimness of the ante-room, she found the light almost painful. The noise, too, troubled her. She was no longer in the mood for frivolity, and wanted to go home. She could not escape her duty, however, and when Captain Wade introduced her to a new partner she was forced to take his hand and go on to the dance floor.
The gentleman in question was a foppish young man, dressed in a tight coat and breeches, by the name of Mr. Kingsley. Yellow stockings adorned his legs, and his hair was elaborately curled. His conversation revolved around clothes, canes and snuff boxes, and to begin with, Cassandra found it irritating. By and by, however, she began to emerge from her dark thoughts and return to the light, so that she was able to take an interest in the conversation. It ended with her agreeing that lace fans were more elegant than chicken skin, and that every well-dressed gentleman should be in possession of a silver-topped cane.
“What an enjoyable evening!” said Maria, as they met again at the side of the floor. “I missed you after supper, but then I saw you dancing with Mr. Kingsley and knew you must be enjoying yourself. He is rather ridiculous, but he is a dear.” She looked around. “The evening is drawing to an end. It’s time for us to go. Where’s Harry? Ah, there he is.” She caught Harry’s attention. “It’s time to go home,” she told him.
“I was just thinking the same thing myself.”
The ladies collected their shawls and then waited for the carriage to be brought round. Harry helped them in and they were on their way. As the coach pulled away, Cassandra saw Lord Deverill leaving the assembly rooms and mounting his horse. Their eyes met for a moment, and held. He was a perplexing man. He was polite on the surface, at times even charming, but there was something disturbing underneath.
Then the coach turned a corner and he was lost from view.
“I have had a wonderful time,” said Maria. “We must do it again.”
“Yes, it was very…interesting,” said Cassandra, recalling her thoughts.
“Now, don’t forget we are going bathing in the morning,” said Maria, as the carriage rolled to a halt outside Cassandra’s house.
“No, I won’t. I’m looking forward to it,” said Cassandra as she climbed out of the carriage.
“I will call for you at ten o’clock.”
They said their farewells, then the carriage rolled away.
Cassandra went indoors. She was tired after the evening’s events, and was looking forward to retreating to the peace and quiet of her room.
“Out all hours. You’ll be fit for nothing in the morning, I’ll be bound,” said Moll, greeting her with gruff affection. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes,” said Cassandra with a tired smile. “I did.”
She said nothing to Moll about some of the more disturbing aspects of her evening. Indeed, she did not want to think of them herself.
“About time you had some frolics,” said Moll approvingly. “Did all the gennulmen dance with you?”
“Not all of them,” Cassandra teased her. “But I danced every dance.”
“Ah.” Moll nodded in satisfaction. “I knew how it would be.”
Cassandra yawned.
“You’ll be tired,” said Moll. “I’ve put a hot brick in your bed. It’s come colder this evening.”
Cassandra went upstairs. She sat down in front of the dressing table and unclasped the simple string of pearls from around her neck, laying it in its box. Then she pulled off her gloves and unpinned her hair. She stood up so that Moll could unfasten her gown and then stepped out of it. Corset, chemise and drawers followed, and Moll helped her into her lawn nightdress.
As Cassandra fastened the nightdress, pulling the draw-string at the neck, she found her thoughts returning to Lord Deverill. What had been the meaning of the look he had given her as she had left the assembly rooms behind? What did he know of Mr. Elwin?
And why had he been with her brother on the night he died?
CHAPTER FOUR
The following morning dawned bright and fair. Cassandra woke at five o’clock, with the sun streaming in at her window. She was used to country hours and, despite her late night at the assembly rooms, she had no desire to stay in bed. She rose, washed and dressed, and then went downstairs. Moll brought her a breakfast of chocolate and hot rolls and she ate it by the open window in the parlour. When she had finished she looked at the clock. She had almost four hours before Maria called for her, and she meant to put the time to good use. She had a lot to do if she wanted to prepare the house for sale.
“I thought we would make a start on the attic today,” she said to Moll. “It will have to be cleaned at some time.”
“You should hire some more servants, Miss Cassie,” grumbled Moll. “It’s more than the two of us can see to.”
“You know there’s no spare money for servants. It has taken nearly everything we have just to come here. But we will manage.”
She and Moll went down to the kitchen, where Cassandra put on an apron, then they both collected buckets and cloths and went up to the attic. Cassandra stopped on the landing at the top. The attic was split into four rooms, and a glance through each of the doors showed that the rooms were filled with broken furniture, old trunks and sundry items that did not belong anywhere else. The rooms were all very dusty, and they smelt stale.
“We’ll start in here, I think.”
Sh
e went into the first room and opened the window wide. A fresh smell invaded the room. She breathed in deeply, thinking that the freshness was one of the things she loved most about Brighton, particularly in the summer, and that it was one of the things she would miss most. She heard the call of the gulls and the rush of the sea, and leaning out of the window, she managed to glimpse the water. How she loved it! And how she would miss it. She was conscious of a sinking of her spirits. To be forced to sell the town house, which had been such a large part of her life as a child, was a great sadness. Her summer holidays as well as the grey winter months had been enlivened by trips to the seaside and had varied the domestic scene. And now, soon, it would be a thing of the past…. But she had had it for many years, she consoled herself, and had been the richer for it.
Did she really have to sell it? she wondered. If she could bring herself to marry for money and position, then she could keep it, and both she and Lizzie would have it for years to come. The idea was tempting, and the thought of Lord Armington came to mind. A moment later she laughed at herself. As if Lord Armington would propose marriage! She was becoming as fanciful as Maria! But it was possible some gentleman might propose. Could she do it? Could she accept? It would make her life far easier. But to live, every day, with a man she did not love—to sit with him at table, eat with him…no, it was not to be borne. She would sell the house, and she and Lizzie would spend the rest of their lives in the country.
“Soonest started, soonest finished,” grumbled Moll, bringing her thoughts back to the present.
They were soon hard at work. Cassandra sorted through the discarded and broken furniture, reflecting that Rupert had spent more on one cabinet than she and Lizzie had spent in a whole year. She sighed at the thought of her brother’s profligate ways, but then turned her thoughts to more practical concerns, deciding if any of the furniture would be of use on the estate. Some of it was of good quality and would fit in well in the country, so she set it to one side. Anything that was broken she put on the landing, shuffling it there with Moll’s help.