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Authors: Mary Williams

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #Historical Fiction, #Historical Romance

The Velvet Glove (10 page)

BOOK: The Velvet Glove
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Of course not,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect anything from you you don’t want yourself. At the moment all you’ve got to do is to take things easily and get your strength back. That’s the priority always – to be my own lovely tantalizing wife again.’

But she knew he was merely evading the issue, and because of her drained energy half-dreaded the future.

The babies were in no way identical. One was dark-eyed with a tuft of reddish dark hair, the other light brown and more fragile-looking.


My mother was fairish when she was young,’ Kate said one day when she and Rick were pondering over them. ‘The other one – well, she’ll probably have very dark hair when she’s older, like you.’


A Ferris?’ One of his eye-brows shot up whimsically. ‘Poor little blighter. What will we call them then? We never settled for names.’


I wondered about Felicity for the fair one.’


Felicity
? Where did that come from?’


I don’t quite know. But I like it – it means happiness.’


Felicity Ferris? Hm.’


You think it’s silly?’


No. Just a bit fancy. However, what about the other one?’


Your turn, Rick.’

His answer was immediate.
‘Marged?’


Marged?’ she echoed the word softly.


It was my mother’s name. Welsh. Remember?’


Oh. Well, yes, of course, if you want; it has a kind of darkness in it – just as Felicity seems sort of light and sunshiny – a bit ethereal. Marged has a rich colour like forest trees in the autumn, and sunset on dark, still pools.’ She broke off, smiling faintly. ‘I suppose I sound a bit silly – sentimental. But I think now I like Marged very much. I’m a bit sleepy though, Rick, so let’s leave it for the moment, and then have another think.’

The result of this conversation was that a month later the twins were christened in Lynchester Cathedral as Felicity and Marged Ferris.

*

In February, out of courtesy, and as a family gesture, presumably to celebrate the birth of the Ferris twins and the first anniversary of Jon
’s marriage to Cassandra, the Barringtons and Rick and Kate were invited to Charnbrook for dinner.


It must be done, William,’ Olivia said resignedly. ‘Not only as a show of good manners, but to find out what we can about the relationship between our son and that silly girl he married. Things aren’t right, you know. Jon isn’t at all like he once was – so short-tempered and on edge. I’ve done my best to draw him out, but he was almost rude to me the other day, and as for Cassandra herself – I wonder sometimes if there’s something seriously wrong with her. Mentally, I mean – she’s so vague and whenever I try to get to grips with any problem there could be, she puts that sly smile on her face and says, “We’re quite happy, Lady Olivia. Jon and I love each other”.’ She frowned. ‘But I don’t believe that young woman has a shred of feeling in her.’


Hm.’ Sir William took a pull on his pipe. ‘You must do as you think fit, my dear. Have the dinner party by all means, although what chance there’ll be for any private conversation’s doubtful, I’d say. Still, a show of good feeling will be all to the good. I owe quite a bit to Barrington at the moment. Had bad luck with another lot of shares –Pelham & Company – only the other week, and Walter very kindly put his hand in his pocket for me.’


Oh William! Why do you take such risks? Spending what we haven’t got and having to rely on people like the Barringtons to get you out of a hole!’


Knowing us more than pays him, Olivia. Not so many of our breed about these days.’

Olivia sighed.
‘It seems nothing will change you. But on this I am
determined
. I’m going to discover what is wrong with Jonathan.’


Do, do. Give your dinner party, put on a good show, and I’ll somehow contrive to see you two mothers have a chance of a chin-wag. Women have a better nose for these things than men.’

So the event was arranged, and invitations sent to the Barringtons and Ferrises.

Kate at first wanted to refuse and searched for an excuse. But Rick, as usual, was determined to accept.


Only a week or two ago you were complaining that nothing happened, that you were tired of seeing just “babies and bottles”,’ he reminded her. ‘Now there’s a chance of dressing up to the eyes and showing off your new slender figure again, you go stubborn and want to decline. Well, my darling, you’ll do as I say for once, and I mean it — even if I have to drag you by the hair of your head.’


You brute!’


Exactly. To tell you the truth, Kate, I’m getting somewhat tired of your tantrums lately. Another thing – don’t let me overhear you threatening to slap either of my daughters again. I heard you the other day; Marged, wasn’t it? Oh, I realize she can be a wilful little thing, and I don’t suppose you meant it for a moment. But if you ever raise a hand against either of the twins, and I get to know of it – it’s you who’ll get the slapping. So remember it.’

Kate wheeled round on him.

‘You’ve no right to talk like that, even in fun. You—’


Oh, I can assure it wasn’t fun, my love—’


Anyhow,’ she interrupted, ‘you want me interested in the twins all the time, although I’m not allowed to
do
anything for them; oh, no, We have a nanny and servants for that. Am I just supposed to look
on
them? Without a right to say a word or use a touch of discipline when it’s necessary?’


I didn’t say that. At the moment they’re only babies, Kate. I realize Marged’s a bit of a bawler – it’s just high spirits. I guess you were the same at her age – maybe a bit worse.’


I was supposed to be a very good baby,’ Kate told him primly.

He laughed.
‘And some say “pigs can fly”. Now—’ his voice softened, ‘forget this silly argument, just concentrate on counting your blessings and think about what you’re going to wear for the “get-together”?’

She eventually chose soft luscious velvet in a deep lilac shade with a flimsy chiffon shawl spotted with diamante for her shoulders. She had a single flower in her piled-up hair that curled in a fringe over her forehead, and round her white neck wore a diamond necklace, one of Rick
’s gifts to her.

They arrived at Charnbrook shortly before seven; and the Wentworth family and Barringtons were already gathered in the drawing-room when Kate was taken down by a maid from the powder room to join them.

It was then that Kate received her first shock.

Cassandra.

She was seated near to Mrs Barrington on a high-backed satin-upholstered chair at the far end of the room facing the door as Lady Wentworth moved, hand extended, to greet Rick and his wife. The men were gathered by the massive marble fireplace, including Jon, who looked distinctly ill-at-ease. And no wonder, thought Kate, considering Cassandra’s appearance. She was attired all in black – a high-necked dress, with a cape-like arrangement falling over the shoulders, and a spreading skirt covering the tips of her shoes. Her light hair was dragged to the back of her head almost entirely covered by black lace veiling resembling a miniature mantilla, of some religious order perhaps. Kate’s nerves lurched. Over the dark bodice of the gown a pearl cross hung at the breast from a silver chain.

The whole effect –
the demure severity of expression on the pale face against the unrelieved black was startling, and somehow macabre.

Kate went forward mechanically, forcing a smile.

‘Hullo, Cass, how are you?’


Perfectly well, thank you,’ Cassandra answered in high sweet tones. ‘And how are you?’


Me? Oh, I’m all right. I haven’t seen you lately.’


No. I’ve been busy.’


Painting?’


Yes, and other things.’


Cass doesn’t make a habit of mingling with us normal folk these days,’ Jon said sarcastically, coming to join them. ‘She is much too pure.’ Instantly he regretted the cruel comment, but it was too late.

An embarrassed flush rose to Kate
’s cheeks. She was wondering wildly what to say, whether to make a joke of Jon’s rebuff or change the conversation quickly into other channels, when Lady Wentworth mercifully intervened.


Do come and sit down, my dear,’ she said to Kate. ‘I was just saying to your dear mama that I hadn’t seen your delightful babies since the christening. One day you must bring them along in the afternoon, and we can have a cosy cup of tea together without these wicked men of ours.’ Her smile at Kate was as sugar sweet as her brief frown at Jon was strong with warning.

Of Cassie, whose wedding anniversary it
was, she took no notice at all.

The whole short interlude had the atmosphere of a social drama being enacted on a stage with no one knowing quite what the climax was to be, a situation saved only by a veneer of good manners, and the good food and wine that followed.

Actually such an assessment would have been correct, although it was three hours before the finale took shape, and one which neither the Wentworths nor Barringtons could have anticipated.

By 10.30 the guests had departed. Jon and Cassandra were the last to leave after a cold farewell from Lady Wentworth and a gruff
‘Hope all’s well with you two – have a good night m’boy’, from Sir William.

Two bright spots of colour burned on Olivia
’s high cheek-bones as she returned to the dining-room followed by her husband. A fire was still burning brightly, the air was warm; small signs of festivity remained there – massed bowls of roses, a large framed photograph of Jon and Cassandra on their wedding day standing in a silver frame on a side table. Light leaped from logs and coal, catching the glint of wall lamps and the immense crystal chandelier hanging from the high encrusted ceiling. Soft shadows mingled with the rich warm scent of the flowers evocative of bygone romantic luxury. A gentle tune from a French china clock upheld by baby angels tinkled merrily from the mantelshelf. But Olivia Wentworth’s face was grim. The very atmosphere seemed to chill as she spoke.


Outrageous. That girl’s behaviour was quite inexcusable. To appear like that –making a mockery of her marriage to our son. And in front of those – those Barringtons. So demure and sly. As if she was in
mourning
. Or about to enter a convent. We must do something William. It can’t go on. Jon has aged years, even in the short time since they moved to the Dower House. We must have advice. Marriages can be annulled in certain cases. I’m sure something’s very wrong. In cases like this—’ She broke off, lifting a shred of lace handkerchief to one eye, her upper lip trembled beneath her long aristocratic nose.

William patted her shoulder comfortingly.

‘There, there, m’dear. Compose yourself. It’s not as bad as all that. Young couples often go through a tricky stage. And it’s my belief he still thinks the world of her. Give them time, that’s what I say, give them time.’


Oh. You always take the easy way out,’ his wife complained irritably. ‘What help is that?’


Sometimes it’s the only course left. Try and get things in proportion. She didn’t do anything
wrong
, did she? Not as if she behaved objectionably, or drank too much. The dress was a bit gloomy-looking, I grant you. But some women think black’s smart these days—’


She wasn’t thinking of smartness. It would be a lot better if she did. Sometimes I really believe she’s not quite all there. And with
Jon
for a husband. My only son.’


Hm! Yes! I’ll have a word with him tomorrow. Maybe he should take a stronger line with her in some way – wake her up a bit and give her an idea of what being a Wentworth means. I thought in the beginning she’d take to horse riding. But the first fall ended it. Well, you either like horses or you don’t. The point is, Olivia, she’s Jon’s wife, and somehow we’ve got to come to terms. Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve a shrewd idea he may be having a word with her tonight. He’d a firm set to his face when he left. He no more liked her dreary get-up than we did. Don’t know why he allowed it.’


I’m sure he didn’t. If you remember Jon came first tonight. She’d been at the Barringtons for the afternoon and arrived with them. I should have thought that woman – Barrington’s wife – would have used what influence she had to stop such a charade. That’s what it was you know, just a charade with that silent, silly little creature apeing a Spanish duenna or some foreign nun. I really am upset. I feel quite ill in fact—’

Sir William sighed.
‘Oh, come now, Olivia. Enough’s enough. Damned if I’m going to waste any more breath over a black dress. Pull yourself together. Take a pill or something or a hot toddy and get to bed. I’m having a last smoke then I’ll join you.’

BOOK: The Velvet Glove
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