The Regency (8 page)

Edward was puzzled by his own stupidity; but pointed out
angrily that it was James's fault the situation had arisen in the
first place. It's always the same with you,' he said, all the old
resentments seething in his heart. 'You blame everyone but yourself when something goes wrong, and it's always some
one else that has to pick up the pieces. I told you from the
beginning that you ought to train Puppy properly, but you
never listened to me. An now he gets himself run over, and it's
me that has to shoot him. And you've spoiled Fanny to the
point where —'

‘
Oh shut up! You're always complaining about Fanny! I'm
sick of it!'

‘
Yes, and Mother spoiled you, too. The number of times
you broke her heart —'

‘
Don't start talking about Mother! I warn you, Ned, I won't
stand it! You gave her plenty of grey hairs too —’

Edward and James had hardly ever quarrelled in their
lives, one brother too industrious, the other too indolent ever
to begin; but this quarrel, born of two sore hearts, escalated
foolishly to the point where each was too hurt to continue,
and they stumped away to brood at opposite ends of the
house. By the time Héloïse came home, they were treating
each other with wounded dignity.

James told her the story of the mishap and Puppy's death
in a voice so racked with guilt that she wanted only to
comfort him, and said gently that it was a great pity, but that
nothing so very bad had happened after all, and that the shock might even do Fanny good in the long term. Then
Edward explained stumblingly that he had invited John
Skelwith to the ball in gratitude for his help; and Héloïse took
pity on him and said he was quite right to do so, and that she
would write out the invitation the following day. She left
them both more comfortable than she had found them, and
they were too glad to have been eased to notice her unusual preoccupation.

At dinner there was still too much silence, so to make
conversation she mentioned the rumour of the defeat of
Bonaparte. Father Aislaby, fortunately, had more details to
offer.

‘
Yes, it's true Bonaparte has been beaten. It's the first
setback he's suffered on land since he was forced to flee from
Egypt, and that was eight years ago.'

‘
I remember. Everyone thought he was finished then, but
he came back,' Héloïse sighed. 'But what happened this
time?'

‘
You remember that business at Putulsk in December? The
Russians and French fought, and both sides got pretty badly
mauled, but couldn't claim a victory. Well, it seems Boney
had taken his army into winter quarters at a place called
Preuss-Eylau, somewhere in the north of Prussia, and the
Russians attacked them actually in camp. They fought in a
snowstorm all through the streets of the town, and there was
a great deal of confusion. Casualties were heavy on both sides,
but the French came off rather the worse, and when they
retreated, it turned into a rout.'

‘And what will happen now?' Héloïse asked.

Aislaby shrugged. 'Not much, I imagine. The Russians will
be anxious to press home their advantage, of course, and as
we are their allies, they will look to us for support. But even if
the Government had an army available to send to Prussia, I
doubt whether it would. Grenville and his friends have never
been keen on getting involved in Europe itself. Don't forget
they came to power through an upsurge of anti-war feeling.'

‘
Grenville will soon be gone, you mark my words,' Edward
said. 'Then we'll see something start to happen. We'll get
some ministers who really believe in the war, and who'll fight
it whole-heartedly. That's the only way to beat Boney.’

*

Later that night, Héloïse sat at her dressing-table while Marie
brushed out her hair, making her ready for bed. James came
through from the dressing-room, and Héloïse, noting his
preoccupied air, took the brush from Marie and dismissed her
with a nod. She observed James's reflection in the mirror as
he walked aimlessly up and down the room, and continued to
brush her hair with slow, thoughtful strokes.

‘
Well,' she said at last, when it was obvious he was not
going to initiate the conversation. 'It has been quite a day for
both of us.'

‘Yes,' he said absently. 'Shall we go to bed?'

‘
Not yet, my James,' she said. 'We should talk a little. I
think that something is disturbing you.’

He paused in his pacing, and gave her a rueful smile. 'Are
you surprised? That business with Fanny and the dog —' He came over to stand behind her, took the brush from her, and
began to brush her hair.

She bent her head to his strokes and half-closed her eyes in
bliss, like a cat. 'It was very lucky,' she said casually, 'that
John Skelwith came along. He seems a very good sort of
young man, from what Edward says. He was right to ask him
to Mathilde's ball. Have you known him long?'

‘
I've known
of
him all his life,' James said shortly, 'but I
can't say I know him. He hasn't happened to have come in
my way.'

‘
I think I had better call on his mother, before I send the
invitation. It would be polite. You knew her, I believe?’

James looked at her sharply. 'What do you mean by that?'
Her eyes met his in the glass, and she continued to look at
him steadily, serenely; saying nothing, waiting for him to
speak. 'Yes,' he said at last. 'I knew his mother. Well, we all
did. We grew up together.' He hesitated, and Héloïse smiled.

‘
Go on, my James. Tell me the story. And go on brushing
my hair, too. It feels so nice.’

The action, she knew, would help him talk. 'Well,' he
began, 'there was Edward's friend, John Anstey, who was in
love with my sister Mary, and Tom Loveday, who was
Anstey's friend, and his sister Mary Loveday, who was my
sister Mary's friend. We were all meeting for ever at balls and
parties. Mary Loveday was a few years older than me. She
was quiet and clever. I suppose that's why I liked her.’

He stopped again, and this time Héloïse just waited, know
ing that it was coming. 'In fact, Marmoset, I have a confes
sion — I more than liked her, I was in love with her. Oh, I was
only a green boy then, and I don't suppose she thought me
anything but a vague nuisance. But she was kind to me — I
think it amused her to have me pursuing her so hard, when
the other young women were all after me. It makes me sound
like a coxcomb, I know, but so it was.'

‘Yes, my love,' she prompted gently. 'What then?’

James's mouth turned down bitterly. 'The Lovedays
weren't well-to-do. They were an old family, and respectable,
but the father speculated unwisely, and the long and short of
it was that when Mary was twenty, he arranged a marriage
for her which was to repair his fortunes. The chosen man was
old John Skelwith, a builder, very rich, with enterprises all over Yorkshire. A coming man, you might say. The trouble
was, he was thirty years older than she.’

Héloïse nodded gravely. 'Such marriages are less common
now than they were. No doubt her father had her best
interests at heart; but I can see how it would appear to you.'

‘
Appear to me?' He looked at her over her shoulder,
amazed. 'Don't tell me that you would approve of such a
match! A girl of twenty and a bow-legged old man of fifty?'

‘And you were — how old? Eighteen?'

‘Seventeen.’

Her eyes twinkled. 'Yes, my James, seventeen, and hot-
blooded, and handsome, and in love with this Mary Loveday.
It must have seemed very bad to you. But she did not refuse
the marriage, did she?'

‘How could she? I told you it was arranged for her —'

‘
Ah yes, so you said. But you know, women are not always
so romantic as men. Sometimes they may put practical
matters first; and a kind, wealthy, older man may make a
very good husband for a woman who is still unwed at twenty.'

‘
You know nothing about the case,' James said stiffly.
Héloïse reached behind her and put her hand over his.
'Perhaps not. But I know you, my James. You thought she
had been forced into the marriage, and wanted to rescue her,
like the
chevalier sans peur et sans reproche!
And perhaps also
your pride did not want to believe that she preferred this old
man to you for a husband?’

He put the brush down hard on the dressing-table and
tugged his hand free from hers; and then met her amused but sympathetic eyes in the glass, and gave a reluctant half-smile.

‘
Well, you may be right. Perhaps I was rather a coxcomb, and there was some hurt pride in the case. But I really loved
her, Marmoset — that I do know. She was intelligent and
fine, and I hated to see her sold like a horse for the sake of her
fool of a father.'

‘Well,
mon âme,
so what did you do?'

‘Do?' James looked rather startled.

‘
You said you had a confession,' Héloïse reminded him.
'You have confessed nothing yet.’

He reddened. ‘Ah — yes. I don't know quite how to tell
you.'

‘
Go on from where you stopped — that is the best way.
You loved this Mary Loveday. She married Mr Skelwith.
Et
puffs?’

He looked away. 'He was away a great deal, her husband,
attending to his business. I met her by chance one day in the
street. I was miserable and she was lonely, and one thing
led to another —' His eye returned to hers reluctantly. 'I
became her lover. I know it was wrong, but I felt that she had
been wrong to marry him, and that her father was wrong to
force her to, and that —'

‘
Everyone was wrong, so one more wrong did not matter?'
Héloïse offered.

‘Don't make fun of me,' he said.

‘
You mistake me, my James,' she said gravely. 'There is no
fun in the story, only sadness.'

‘
Yes,' he said, still hurt, 'and you don't yet know it all.
Mary conceived, and because her husband had been away so
long, it was obvious that the child could not be his. There was
the devil of a to-do. He came up to Morland Place to demand
that I be horse-whipped, and Mary came after him to plead
for me. My father furious, my mother in tears, me in disgrace
— everything as bad as it could be! Well, they calmed the old
man down, and persuaded him to forgive Mary, and I was
packed off to Court to get me out of the way, and everything
was hushed up. I would have stood by her and looked after
her and the child, but no-one wanted that, not even Mary.
Especially not Mary.’