Daphne (11 page)

Minerva opened her mouth to lecture further when she suddenly remembered one of her first encounters with her husband. She had leapt into his bed at the inn at Hopeminster. Certainly, she had been under the impression it was her own room and her own bed, but still … Then Minerva straightened her spine. But
never
would she have rolled around in the mud with him in the middle of Hyde Park. It was past believing.

Daphne looked at her sister’s stern face and sighed.

‘Don’t be so cross, Merva. Mr Garfield has not come near us since. He lent me his coat and I had it cleaned and pressed and sent it back to him but he did not even acknowledge its return.’

‘He is probably just as shocked by his behaviour as you must be,’ said Minerva, starting to walk again. ‘I suppose he was foxed.’

‘He … he did apologize and he said he had had too much to drink at luncheon and …’

‘Ah, that is it,’ said the worldly-wise Minerva with satisfaction. ‘I am afraid we must forgive the
gentlemen
when they are a trifle
well to go
. We will say no more on the subject.’

Daphne experienced a pang of disappointment, for once she had begun to talk about Mr Garfield, she really did not want to stop.

After they walked a little way in silence, Minerva said casually, ‘I might send a letter to Annabelle and beg her to stay with me and bring little Charles.’

‘I wish you would, Merva,’ said Daphne, feeling the old comfort at having her problems solved for her by this sister who had been substitute mother for so long to the younger girls since Mrs Armitage had done nothing but drift out of one Spasm into another.

‘Oh, and Betty,’ said Daphne. ‘You must speak to Betty, Minerva. She is not the same girl since her illness and when she is not glowering and snapping, she cries a lot. She did not wed John but she never says why. John himself hardly looks in her direction and
he
has changed. He is dressed in livery which must have cost Papa a great deal of money and he puts on
airs
.’

‘Very well, I will do my best. You certainly attract a lot of attention, Daphne. Those two gentlemen over there look turned to stone. No. Don’t look! You must pretend they are not there or they may think you are inviting attention. Dear, dear. They are coming towards us.’

‘It’s Mr Garfield, Merva,’ said Daphne, blushing scarlet, ‘and a friend.’

Minerva stopped and placed herself with the perambulator in front of Daphne and glared at the two approaching men.

She recognized Mr Garfield as he drew nearer, looking very cool and elegant. By contrast his friend was small and stocky with a cheerful, schoolboyish face.

Mr Garfield swept off his silk hat and bowed low. ‘Miss Daphne,’ he said calmly, addressing one black ringlet which was peeping round Minerva’s
shoulder
, all he could see of Daphne. ‘How charming to see you again … what I
can
see of you, that is.’

‘
We
have not been introduced, sir,’ said Minerva awfully. Mr Apsley cast a nervous glance up at Mr Garfield and tentatively pulled at his sleeve.

‘Then let me effect the introductions, my love,’ said a lazy voice behind Minerva.

Minerva swung around. Standing behind Daphne was the tall, elegant figure of her husband, his green eyes gleaming with mischief.

‘My love,’ said Lord Sylvester, ‘may I present Mr Garfield and Mr Apsley. Mr Garfield and Mr Apsley, my wife. Do you both know Miss Daphne Armitage?’

‘I have not had the pleasure,’ mumbled Mr Apsley.

‘Then it is a pleasure you shall experience right away. Daphne, allow me to present Mr Edwin Apsley. Mr Apsley, Miss Daphne Armitage.’

‘Delighted,’ said Mr Apsley.

‘Now that the introductions are over,’ said Minerva in steely tones, ‘we must allow you two gentlemen to be on your way. You will find the cock pit in
that
direction which is no doubt where your tastes lie. Sylvester, please take us home.’

‘I am sure our friends would like some
refreshment
,’ said Lord Sylvester ignoring his wife’s angry stare. ‘Mr Apsley, be so good as to oblige me by playing father and pushing this wretched carriage so I may have that familiar joy of taking my wife’s arm in my own. Mr Garfield, will you escort Miss Daphne? We only live a short step from here …’

Tucking his wife’s hand firmly in his arm, Lord Sylvester led Minerva away. Mr Apsley seized hold of the carriage and trundled it off after them.

Mr Garfield held out his arm, which Daphne ignored. She was blushing so much, she felt as if she had been dipped in scalding water. She could imagine Mr Garfield and Mr Apsley laughing over the abandoned way she had lain down in the mud of Hyde Park and allowed herself to be kissed.

‘Strange as it may seem,’ came Mr Simon
Garfield’s
cool voice, ‘gentlemen are not in the way of gossiping about the sort of things that intrigue the ladies. So you see, there is no need to stand there like a beautiful beetroot, Miss Daphne.’

Torn between relief and anger, Daphne said in a stifled voice, ‘We had not heard from you. We thought you had been angered in some way.’

‘Not I. Shall we follow the others?’

Daphne walked along beside him, her heart beating hard.

‘Bellsire and Thunderer are waiting in Hopeworth for the return of your father,’ went on Mr Garfield easily. I sent a man down to start the repairs to the church. He took them with him. They
went cheerfully, seeming to know they were going home. I had to send them away for my chef had threatened to quit my establishment.’

‘Thank you for being so kind to them,’ said Daphne, all at once forgetting her embarrassment in a burst of gratitude. ‘They are really very fond of you. I wonder you could bear to part with them.’

‘It was a wrench,’ he said solemnly, ‘but they left many mementoes behind: one chewed oriental rug, one chewed slipper, a great deal of chewed food which was meant for my guests, and the chef’s chewed nerves.’

‘Oh, dear. They are very high-spirited. It is because they are so
young
,’ said Daphne earnestly. She looked up into his face as she spoke.

He slowed his step and looked down at her. Her cheeks were pink and her hair, peeping out from under a ridiculously frivolous bonnet, was black and shining in the sun.

The stiff breeze from the ocean moulded one side of her gown against her trim figure and he
experienced
such a sharp pang of naked lust that he was quite startled with himself.

He forced himself to talk easily about the
goings-on
in Brighton, of the various balls and parties, and how the Prince Regent was still obsessed with designing military uniforms. The poet Tom Moore, said Mr Garfield, had prophesied that the next victims of the Regent’s passion for designing clothes would be his political advisers:

Daphne laughed, a light rippling laugh, and Mr Apsley twisted his head nervously and looked back at them.

Mr Garfield had managed to secure Daphne’s arm in his.

He chatted on about how Brighton had become a sort of West End by the sea with its half-hourly coaches, its immense promenade, its fashionable domes, bow windows and cupolas, its libraries, assembly rooms, theatres, bathing boxes; filled with the genteel and would-be genteel all enjoying what the advertisements described as ‘acquatic
gratification
’.

How are the mighty fallen, thought Mr Apsley gloomily. Imagine Simon wasting the time of day with that simpering little miss. He’d be in parson’s mousetrap soon, just like all the rest. Bachelors should stand together. Mr Apsley had taken a very strong dislike to Daphne. This dislike was shortly to be intensified.

He had been staring so hard over his shoulder, he had not been looking where he was going, and he rammed the wheels of the perambulator into the legs of a stout matron who had been placidly admiring the view. She screamed, baby Julian screamed,
Minerva came running back, everyone stopped and stared.

And among everyone who stopped and stared was a young lady seated in an open landau and that young lady was none other than his faithless former mistress, Kitty. Kitty who sat and giggled at the sight of Mr Apsley, pride of the Four in Hand Club, pushing a perambulator.

Mr Apsley’s shame and rage knew no bounds. It was all the fault of that Daphne-creature.

Only Lord Sylvester seemed to have any
sympathy
for his mortification. He took the
perambulator
from Mr Apsley and said, ‘Is it not amazing that we famous whips cannot steer a baby’s
perambulator
? I saw your team the other day. That’s Mercer’s greys you have.’

Flattered at being classed with the notable Lord Sylvester as a famous whip, Mr Apsley forgot his woes for the moment and eagerly began to describe all the people he had outbid in order to secure the greys.

By the time he had consumed a pint of iced champagne in the cool depths of Lord Sylvester’s drawing room, Mr Apsley was feeling in charity with the world.

He could still not bring himself to look upon Daphne with a kind eye but he thought Minerva was a delightful and charming lady. He was further relaxed by the sight of Mr Garfield who seemed to be paying no particular attention to Daphne. Simon was a trump.
He
had never gone the way of all flesh
by racing off to the altar, and why should he? There were all too many women ready to give him their favours without forcing him to marry them.

Lord Sylvester had been talking amiably about the follies of the Dandies and Dandizettes who outraged London with their elaborate and
outrageous
modes of dress. ‘I always think it is better to set the fashion than to try to be a slave to it,’ said Lord Sylvester.

‘Quite right,’ said Mr Apsley cheerfully. ‘Now take Simon here. He don’t give a fig what anyone says and I envy him for it. Even went so far as to walk a couple of curst hounds about town and would you believe it? The next day there were several of the young bloods trotting up and down with foxhounds.’

A thought struck him. ‘Armitage!’ he cried. ‘By Jove, I sent you to a Mr Armitage at Hopeworth to buy me that couple. It wasn’t the Reverend
Armitage
?’

‘The same,’ said Mr Garfield.

‘Oh,’ said Mr Apsley, a shadow falling across his face. ‘I wondered why you was so keen to make pets out of those wretched hounds.’

‘They are not wretched unless made so by callous, unfeeling treatment,’ said Daphne hotly.

‘Quite,’ said Mr Garfield. ‘Do you plan to attend the assembly tonight, Lady Sylvester?’

‘No,’ said Minerva. ‘I did not know when Daphne would be arriving, otherwise we might have
arranged
to take her.’

‘I will be very happy to escort her, Lady Sylvester,
except that she will need a chaperone as well,’ said Mr Garfield while Mr Apsley looked at him in dismay. Had Simon forgotten that they were going to play cards with the fellows at the Ship?

‘In that case, my love,’ said Lord Sylvester, ‘I will oblige you by staying at home with Julian while you go to the ball with Daphne for a little.’

Although baby Julian had a competent nurse, not to mention a whole household of devoted servants, looking out for his welfare, Minerva and Lord Sylvester could not feel at ease unless one of them stayed home to make sure everything was all right.

Minerva bit her lip. She had told her husband of the kissing-in-the-mud on the way home and
Sylvester
had only laughed and said the temptation was probably too great. He seemed to approve of Mr Garfield. Minerva sighed. She would much rather have stayed at home.

‘Would you care to go?’ she asked Daphne, hoping that young lady would refuse. Daphne looked at Mr Garfield and Mr Garfield looked at Daphne, and Daphne eventually lowered her eyes and said meekly she would like to go of all things.

‘That Garfield has
hypnotized
her,’ thought Minerva angrily, resolving to have a word with her husband as soon as possible.

‘Oh, I say,’ mumbled Mr Apsley miserably. ‘Thought we was going to have an evening at the card table.’

‘I had not forgotten,’ said Mr Garfield equably. ‘I shall no doubt join you at the Ship after I have
managed to persuade Miss Daphne to dance with me.’

Mr Apsley brightened. Simon could not very well dance more than two times with the girl or society would be outraged.

Watching his friend’s expressive face, Mr Garfield reflected that Edwin was at his most tedious when he was between affairs.

Daphne watched them both and wondered what on earth the elegant and sophisticated Mr Garfield saw in the chubby, uncouth Mr Apsley. Mr Apsley looked at Daphne and wondered again what Mr Garfield could see in such a milk-and-water miss. But Mr Apsley’s pulses only quickened for members of the Fashionable Impure.

FIVE

It was no great matter to Brighton society that Mr Garfield danced twice with Daphne Armitage at the Assembly. Her beauty created such a furore that they hardly noticed her partners. Minerva was content to sit with the dowagers and watch her sister’s success. Also, since she was three months pregnant, she found she tired easily.

She had been prepared to stay very late at the ball to please Daphne, but no sooner had Daphne had her second dance with Mr Garfield than she
announced
herself ready to return home. Minerva’s relief at being able to leave was somewhat marred to find the tall figure of Mr Garfield waiting outside to escort them. But despite her misgivings, Minerva respected her husband’s judgement and put herself out to be charming to Mr Garfield, going so far as to invite him to join them at the tea tray.

Mr Garfield studied Minerva’s tired face for a few moments and then said quietly that he would take his leave. Daphne, torn between relief and
disappointment
, watched him go.

She gave a little sigh. ‘What an odd man he is, Merva. We shall not probably see him again during the rest of our stay.’

The vicar was waiting up for them and was delighted. when Minerva told him of Daphne’s success. Surely Daphne would realize there were more important fish in the sea than Mr Archer.

The following day was enlivened by calls made by Daphne’s new admirers. It was the custom for gentlemen to call on the lady they had danced with the night before. Of course, they could send a servant instead of calling in person, and by three in the afternoon Daphne was persuaded that that was what Mr Garfield meant to do.

She had quite given up hope – although she tried to convince herself she would be more at ease if he did
not
call – and was preparing to take the air with Minerva and baby Julian when Mr Garfield and Mr Apsley were announced.

Mr Apsley was looking slightly sullen and his scowl deepened as Mr Garfield persuaded Daphne to take a walk with him. With bad grace, Mr Apsley bethought himself of a previous engagement and walked away, looking for all the world like a sulky schoolboy.

Peregrine and James then seemed ready to
accompany
Mr Garfield and Daphne, and were stopped
from going by Lord Sylvester who said he had an errand for them.

And so Daphne was left free to stroll along the promenade with Mr Garfield, avoiding talking to him by bowing and nodding to new acquaintances from the ball the night before.

At last Daphne began to feel herself sadly lacking in manners and turned her attention to Mr Garfield who was surveying her with a look of affectionate amusement. ‘The ball was very fine,’ essayed Daphne.

‘Very,’ he agreed, ‘although I found it flat after my second dance with you.’

‘Indeed?’ Daphne fanned herself vigorously
although
there was a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean. ‘Do you intend to stay in Brighton for long, Mr Garfield?’

‘Ah, that depends …’

‘On what?’

‘On how long I find myself amused.’

‘Are you often bored?’

‘Yes, Miss Daphne, very often.’

‘That is a sign of weakness,’ said Daphne severely. ‘People who are often bored set very high standards for other people but not for themselves. Perhaps you are bored, Mr Garfield, because you yourself are boring.’

‘I am desolated you find me dull.’

‘Not in the slightest. I find you uncomfortable.’

‘Odso? Then what can I do to make myself more comfortable?’

‘I do not know,’ said Daphne, unable to analyse the unsettling feelings coursing through her body. ‘Perhaps if we could talk about general things.’

‘Very well. Let us talk about your father. You must be proud of his reputation as a huntsman?’

‘I do not know if he is as brilliant a huntsman as he believes,’ said Daphne cautiously. ‘My young sister, Diana, is most interested in the sport and says that there has been a great dog fox plaguing the district for years and Papa cannot seem to be able to hunt it down despite all the money he spends on hounds and horses. He is most unconventional and wears a scarlet coat, or pink as he calls it, and parsons are only supposed to wear purple on the hunting field. Then there is that silly trap he made for Dr Philpotts.’

‘He is a prime eccentric, I think,’ said Mr Garfield, ‘but you must not be too hard on him. It is all very well telling me these things, but do not, I pray, repeat them to anyone else in society.’

‘Why?’

‘Well,’ he said gently, ‘it is not right to criticize members of your family, in my opinion, although many of the
ton
do just that. Also they gossip a good deal – malicious gossip. It is a slight thing, but they would enjoy spreading the rumour that Mr Armitage was a failure as a huntsman. His extravagance would be largely condemned and his life made a misery. He is very proud of his reputation, I think.’

‘Surely no one would trouble to gossip about a country vicar.’

‘Your father is no ordinary vicar. He has startled society by marrying three of his daughters off to the highest prizes on the Marriage Mart. That sort of thing creates jealousy. The world and his wife would be only too glad to find something they could sneer about. There are many match-making mamas who detest your father and feel their prize darlings could have secured at least one highly eligible man had it not been for the Armitage sisters. In fact the Armitage sisters seem to have a genius for securing the affections of dyed-in-the-wool bachelors.’

‘Like yourself?’ Daphne blushed miserably as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

‘Miss Daphne,’ he said softly, turning his back to the glittering sea and taking both her gloved hands in his own. ‘I am very much a bachelor, or at least I have always considered myself the sort of man who would never marry. Perhaps it is because I never met anyone who could …’

‘
Yoo-hoo!
’

Both swung round, each wondering who could be hailing either one of them in such a vulgar manner.

A pretty lady, somewhat over-painted about the mouth and over-plunging about the neckline, was waving to Mr Garfield from an open carriage. Even the unworldly Daphne recognized her as belonging to the Fashionable Impure.

She turned her head resolutely away.

‘Simon!’ came a feminine scream. ‘Help me down, John.
Simon!
’ The voice came nearer. ‘I could not believe my eyes.’

‘Madam, I have never seen you in my life before.’ Mr Garfield’s voice dripped ice and Daphne gave a little sigh of relief and turned back. The lady had been helped down by her coachman. Gathering the long train of her muslin gown over one arm, she tripped up to Mr Garfield.

‘In case you did not hear me, madam,’ said Mr Garfield looking stonily down at her, ‘I have never seen you before.’

‘Oh!’ The lady let out a strangled gasp and raised a scented handkerchief to her mouth. ‘How could you say such a thing? When I have been in your protection for two years.

Daphne felt herself go hot with embarrassment. The lady could not be acting. Her distress appeared genuine. And being a bachelor, thought Daphne gloomily, did not mean being celibate.

‘Simon.’ The pretty lady was now clutching at Mr Garfield’s coat. ‘Do not spurn me. You have not come nigh me for two weeks. Is
she
the reason?’

Daphne started to walk away.

Mr Garfield’s voice stopped her. ‘Stay, Miss Daphne,’ he said. ‘Now, madam,’ he went on, turning to the lady and prising her hands free of his coat, ‘you have five seconds to turn around and go back to your carriage before I call the watch.’

‘Simon!’

‘One!’

‘Oh, miss’ – to Daphne – ‘don’t you have nothing to do with him. Only see how he spurns me.’

‘Two.’

‘If you knew what he did to me …’

‘Three, four, five,’ snapped Mr Garfield, and then raising his voice, he called, ‘Watch! Hey, watchman!’

The lady ran back to her carriage so fast, she seemed like a coloured blur to the transfixed Daphne. She called urgently to her coachman and the carriage set off at a smart pace.

Mr Garfield seized Daphne’s arm in a rough grip and started to hustle her towards a hackney carriage.

‘Leave me alone!’ cried Daphne furiously. ‘To be subjected …’

‘Shut up,’ said Mr Garfield coldly. ‘Driver, keep that carriage in sight and see where it goes. If you do not lose it there will be a guinea for you.’

‘Now, listen to me,’ said Mr Garfield, taking Daphne’s hands in a tight clasp. ‘No, don’t turn your head away. I have never seen that lady in my life before. We are going to follow her, and with luck, we will find out who put her up to this mischief.’

‘I could swear she was genuine,’ said Daphne. ‘Please let me go. You are hurting me. You have no right to embroil me in your affairs. They are of no interest to me, sir.’

‘That woman was an actress or I’ll eat my hat. Do stop making a fuss, Miss Daphne.’

‘But we are in a
closed
carriage, sir. You will cause a scandal.’

‘Damme, so we are,’ he said, staring haughtily about the cramped inside of the hack. ‘Oh, well, you’ll just have to marry me.’

‘I seem to be unlucky in that the proposals of
marriage I receive are decidedly off-hand,’ snapped Daphne.

‘Do be quiet,’ he said, craning his neck. ‘That carriage has just drawn up at the Ship. Ah, I begin to see who is behind this. Come along, Miss Daphne. You are the sort of young miss who will damn me for life unless you have ironbound proof of my
innocence
.’

Still protesting, Daphne nonetheless allowed
herself
to be escorted into the Ship.

In a corner of the coffee room was Mr Apsley. He had just risen to his feet. The lady who had accosted Mr Garfield was talking volubly to Mr Apsley, who suddenly looked over the top of her bonnet and saw Mr Garfield and Daphne framed in the doorway of the coffee room.

He turned brick red.

‘So that’s that,’ said Mr Garfield, leading Daphne back out of the inn.

‘That’s
what
?’ said Daphne crossly.

‘You are remarkably thick-witted, my love. Was it not obvious or must I take you back and punch my dear friend’s head before your eyes? That little ladybird was put up to the scene just enacted on the promenade by Edwin.’

‘You must call him out.’

‘How bloodthirsty you are. The scandal would ruin both of us. No, I shall deal with Edwin in my own way.’

‘And he is supposed to be your
friend
.’

‘He is a silly man who has no female to engage his
attentions at the moment and thinks he sees one of his oldest and most valued friends falling in love.’

‘He
is
very silly, is he not?’ said Daphne, rather breathlessly. Mr Garfield was looking at her in such an odd way.

He was actually looking down at Daphne and wondering how he could be so easily bewitched by beauty when he had already known so much of it.

‘Our walk is not spoiled,’ he said. ‘I refuse to let it be marred by Edwin’s malice. We will pretend that nothing happened and that we have just started out. Do observe that dreadful quiz over there.’

He led her off along the sunny street, conversing lightly, talking nonsense, until Daphne began to relax. She could not feel completely at ease in his company, however, because she was overcome by a longing to feel his lips against hers once more. Her colour came and went. She was conscious of every movement of his tall body, of the caressing note in his voice. She thought fleetingly of Cyril Archer and then banished him resolutely to the back of her mind.

When they reached Minerva’s house, Mr Garfield came to a monumental decision. He was tired of searching his feelings, analysing his feelings. All he knew was that he wanted Daphne Armitage as he had never wanted any other woman in the whole of his life.

Almost abruptly he said, ‘Tell your father I will pay a call on him tomorrow morning.’

‘Yes,’ Daphne whispered, her heart beating hard.

‘You can guess what I wish to ask him, Daphne,’ said Mr Garfield, looking down at her intently. ‘May I hope your answer will be “yes” if I find favour with him?’

Daphne looked up into his strange yellow eyes. There was a glow in them that made every nerve in her body tingle.

She did not know if she loved him. But she knew if she refused him then she might never see him again. And that was suddenly past bearing.

She slowly nodded her head.

He raised her hand to his lips and then strode off down the street.

Daphne watched him until he was out of sight and then ran into the house.

She must speak to her father immediately.

‘Merva! Where’s Papa?’ she cried, removing her bonnet and swinging it by the strings.

‘I am afraid Papa had to go to Hopeworth. He will return as soon as possible,’ said Minerva, looking up from her sewing. ‘It is a suicide, you see. Poor Miss Jenkins.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Daphne. Miss Jenkins was a spinster of the parish of Hopeworth. It was known that she had very little money, and everyone had tried to help her, but Miss Jenkins’ gentility and pride were as strong as her poverty and she would not accept charity. She had been very odd of late, walking about the village and talking to herself.