Curricle & Chaise (16 page)

‘Surely, Lydia,’ he said, pouting a little and staring into her eyes. ‘You do not mean to deny me this dance? Why, after I have been so kind to you for ever? There is no-one else in the room I can dance with. I wish you would dance with me.’

Lydia, though loathe to stand up with a man she despised, felt it wisest to accept him quietly and submit to her fate. It was apparent that Charles was more than a little foxed. She felt it more than likely that he would create an embarrassing scene should she deny him what he asked.

As they were dancing Lydia became aware that Edward and Julia were not in the room and she vaguely wondered where they were. She kept half an eye on the door, not feeling obliged to engage her cousin in any conversation (and, indeed, Charles was having enough trouble retaining his place in the set without having to converse with her at the same time), expecting to see them return at any moment. The door remained firmly closed, however, until it was opened by Henry Churchman, who disappeared in great haste and did not reappear for some time. Indeed, the dance was nearly over before the door eventually opened again and in came Julia, closely followed by the butler bringing in some refreshments. Julia was making an obvious, though not very successful, effort to look composed and she immediately positioned herself behind a pillar in an apparent attempt to evade notice. It was some little time before the two Mr Churchmans appeared. They both seemed flustered and annoyed, looking for all the world as if they had just sustained a violent argument from which neither had obtained any satisfaction whatsoever. Lydia was perplexed. Was everyone mad that evening? As soon as the dance was over she discarded Charles and took some tea over to Julia. They sat together for a while in silence until her cousin appeared a little more composed.

Julia recovered as tea progressed, although she was in no mood to say anything. By the time the next dance was forming she was looking expectantly at the young men in the room, her love of dancing obviously overcoming the upset which she had so recently sustained. The strategy worked and in no time at all she was whisked away, leaving Lydia to her own devices once again.

Just as Julia was being led away Lydia caught sight of Mr Churchman. To her surprise he seemed to be heading in her direction. She hurriedly decided to ignore him, but she was too late. He came up to her and bowed slightly, without a smile.

‘My dear Miss Barrington,’ he said, stooping to pick up her necklace, whose clasp had just that moment decided to act the traitor and unlock itself, causing the whole ornament to slip to the ground. ‘Do I find you unengaged? You surprise me – but I should be more than pleased if you would do me the honour of agreeing to be my partner in this next dance.’

Was he being sarcastic again? Lydia was uncertain. She recalled all the chagrin of the past few days – how he had avoided her at Branton, the attention he was paying to that insufferable Smythe-Grey girl, his strange but seemingly harsh words to her earlier, the way in which it now appeared that he had upset Julia – all this flashed through her mind and made her ill disposed to give him the benefit of any doubt. He had obviously objected to dancing with her earlier. Now he was insulting her by offering his hand without so much as a smile. From his stiff and formal demeanour she could not persuade herself that he actually wanted to spend the next half hour in her company. It was insufferable. She was feeling tired, perplexed, neglected and not a little cross. Looking him straight in the eye, and tossing her curls a little for extra effect, she declared:

‘Mr Churchman, had I wanted the charity of your partnership tonight I should have saved a dance to do so. As it is I regret that I am engaged to my cousin for the rest of the evening. Perhaps you would care to bestow your attentions elsewhere.’

She swept out of his presence in a movement that would not have disgraced the great Sarah Siddons, deftly retrieving her necklace as it lay in his open palms and thrusting it into the depths of her reticule. She advanced up to the somewhat startled but delighted Charles as he lounged by the fire, and dragged him off to the end of the set just as the dancing began.

Going over the incident with Julia the next day both girls had to laugh, although it was a rather pained laugh on Lydia’s part. Henry had just stood there, open mouthed, for a good ten seconds before retrieving his position by hustling the butler with the dishes. And he had not come near her again all night, giving the most distant of farewells when it was time to go and showing all the signs of a great displeasure which she felt convinced he actually did feel.

‘I have always found him a most peculiar man,’ remarked Julia, looking idly out of the parlour window onto the wintry day beyond. ‘His dislike of my attachment to Edward is most persistent – yet all it does is to cement our bond even more. His behaviour is not that of a gentleman. I cannot understand it.’

‘And yet he is a gentleman born and bred,’ mused Lydia, ‘and in his general bearing and conduct he cannot be faulted.’

‘Lord, as for that, Lydi
a, you may well change your mind
when I tell you of his conduct towards me last night. Nothing could excuse the brutal way in which he sought us out when we had only slipped off for a couple of minutes to get some air...Edward was telling me the story of his great-uncle George, whose portrait is hung at the foot of the stairs – you must know it – the rather jolly looking one (I think him related by marriage rather than blood – I cannot see any likeness between him and the family otherwise). Well, Edward was telling me the most entertaining history imaginable but we had scarcely been gone two minutes before Henry appeared in the hallway, a great frown on his face – I have never seen him look so angry – and shouted at Edward to return me to the dance immediately or there would be the devil to pay later. I was never so afraid of him in my life. I felt persuaded that he should strike Edward. I could scarcely move my legs I was so frightened. He could hardly find the words to express himself.’

Lydia was incredulous.

‘What ever made him do it?’ she asked. Though she now felt sorry that she had allowed her own temper to get the better of her and be so rude to him she really felt that Henry himself was very much to blame. ‘What ever did he say to you, Julia?’

‘He was actually speaking to Edward, not me,’ she admitted, ‘but I couldn’t have been more frightened if he had been shouting at me instead.’

‘But what was he saying?’

‘I can’t remember his exact words, but he implied that Edward was up to no good and told him to escort me back to the party as soon as he could to prevent me being missed.’

‘It is all so strange. It is clear to everyone except your mama that Mr Churchman has no personal interest in you, nor you in him. And yet, as you have said before, he seems determined to prevent his brother from having what he patently does not want for himself. Surely he is not mean spirited enough to be jealous of him?’

Julia could only frown. She had long thought over the problem herself, to no avail.

‘I can only think,’ continued Lydia, ‘that he begrudges his brother his happiness, although the Lord knows that he deserves it.’

‘Or that he thinks me a poor match for the Churchmans. I am convinced he has a dislike of all of the family. I know that he disapproves of the way in which papa has gone about improving Abdale and he will do all that he can to avoid being with Charles. I do suspect that he and Charles had some sort of disagreement over the summer. I don’t know what it was but Charles left home one week in a high state of dudgeon and didn’t return for ages. Now I think of it, it’s only since Charles went back to Oxford that Mr Churchman has taken to visiting us once more. He really is a peculiar man. I don’t know what to make of him at all.’

None of the explanations which came to mind fully accorded with what they knew of Henry, but neither of them was at all able to come up with anything more feasible. Mrs Abdale, at that moment, entering the room and demanding Lydia’s attention, they silently agreed to discontinue the conversation, and went their separate ways.

Whether from becoming chilled at the Churchmans’ or from a general lowness of health which sometimes accompanies the turn of the year, Julia became subject to a debilitating cold over the course of the next few days which made it even more impossible than usual for her to exert herself. She could do nothing but languidly flick through the pages of a fashion magazine or sit with what thoughts she could muster at the side of the fire. Her doting mama, at the first sign of infection, had called in Dr Richard and then, her motherly duties done, retired immediately to her rooms to avoid contact with the infection. It was left to Lydia to entertain the invalid as best she could. After all, Lydia was expendable and if she were to succumb to the illness then so be it.

Lydia herself was much annoyed by the continual presence of Charles, who generally remained as unoccupied as his sister. He spent much of the day lounging about in his brocade morning gown, casting her admiring glances whenever she happened to look his way. After several days of this, after wearing out her voice by reading aloud to the invalid and generally trying to amuse her, she took advantage of a temporary absence of Charles, told Julia that she must have some fresh air, and determined on walking through the park.

The day was chilly and misty but Lydia rather liked it that way. She felt the need to be alone. Henry Churchman, unsurprisingly, had not returned their visit to Grantham. Edward had told Julia that they were both going to Town for several weeks immediately after New Year. Lydia felt the loss of their company greatly. Whilst she could not totally approve of it, she had quite enjoyed Edward’s flirtation with her (and, perhaps moreso – although she would not admit it even to herself – fooling her aunt into the bargain). Abdale society suddenly felt very restricted, and the family themselves pretentious and dull. She wondered how soon she could decently accept her aunt Bridger’s invitation to Netley and escape the lot of them. The idea had a great deal of appeal. It would be a relief to escape aunt Abdale for a while and hopefully by the time she returned Charles would have gone back to Oxford. She gave a sigh. Charles was a constant source of irritation. He was also very much of a threat.

Her feet had led her to the farthest edge of the park from which she could look back across the estate – its gravel drive, timbered parkland (looking somewhat lost and forlorn at this time of the year), the open shrubbery close to the house and the closer wooded hill from which Lydia’s most disastrous introduction to Henry Churchman had taken place. Henry Churchman. She could imagine him now, paying his attentions to Miss Smythe-Grey who was probably worth several thousands of pounds and was small and delicate and just the sort of girl to attract him. And she herself – well, she had been unforgivably rude to him. Whatever had she been thinking of? He had only asked her to dance. How she wished their final words unsaid. But she knew that it couldn’t be. She frowned and sighed and could not be content. The creeping mist was chilling her bones even as she stood. She decided to set off back towards the house.

It was unfortunate that she turned back just when she did, for just as she reached the centre of the driveway she discerned the tall figure of Charles advancing towards her from the house. Her heart fell and she hesitated for a moment, wondering whether there was any means of escape. She looked around her desperately. The driveway
at this point
was broad and level. It was bordered by wide swathes of grass. No, there was nowhere to go at all so she would just have to put up with it and soldier on as best she could. So she stuck her chin in the air and carried on walking up the driveway to meet him half way, with as much good grace as she could muster.

‘Why, Lydia,’ he smirked, coming up to her and standing in her way. ‘Why, Lydia, we are well met, are we not? Abdale is devilish dull, with Julia in the dismals and mama cosseted away in her room. Won’t you walk with me? It’s a good deal better than baking in front of the fire.’

‘It is too cold for walking today,’ she replied, dampeningly, trying to side step him and move on towards the house. Charles turned to walk at her side. ‘I don’t intend to stay out any longer. Why don’t you go and help your father, if you are dull? I’m sure he would be pleased if you showed a bit of interest in the estate.’

‘You’re an attractive jade, Lydia. You are generally admired wherever you go. Why won’t you accept that I enjoy being with you and treat me more kindly, for god’s sake?’

‘I have no wish to talk of such things. It is not fitting, Charles, that we should. I have neither the need of, nor the desire for, your attentions. I should be more than grateful if you would leave me well alone.’

‘Fighting talk, my dear,’ jeered Charles, catching her arm roughly to prevent her escape. ‘But if you are thinking of Edward Churchman you can think again. He has no money of his own, you know. He is quite unable to fix his interest where ever he chooses. Young heroes are always admired by women. Why, I daresay my sister Julia is as enamoured of him as you are – and at least she has the advantage of a fortune, which should go a long way with him...’

‘Hold your tongue, Charles Abdale. You know not what you say.’

‘Young Churchman is a boor – oh yes, he may have fancy manners, which go down well with you, I know, but you should hear his talk when there are no females about.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Charles –
I care nothing for that.
Edward Churchman means nothing to me.’

‘And you can mean nothing to him – though I know he thinks well of you. He has no plans for marriage, you know, if that’s what you’re angling for. And besides,’ he added darkly, studying her face intently. ‘I told both him and that sour faced brother of his that they had better stay well away in future. I told them that you were already spoken for – that you were secretly engaged to me – that you had entered into the arrangement a very long time ago and had no wish at all to rescind it – so now you will never be able to think of him again. Ha! What do you think of that, Miss Lydia? Can you still refuse me now?’