Darkwater (23 page)

He returned her gaze. His eyes hardened, seemed to gleam with some curious kind of triumph, as if he were turning disappointment to something he almost enjoyed. But Mr Hamish Barlow had looked a self-centred man who would pamper rather than inflict hurt on himself.

‘Then I seem to have been wasting my time,’ he said stiffly. He added, almost under his breath. ‘I wonder if you realise what you have been doing. You are a fool. Your uncle will never forgive you.’

Fanny had a moment of remorse. Hamish Barlow had paid her the biggest compliment it was possible for a man to pay a woman. She should have been more appreciative. But at this moment she wanted only to escape from his gaze, and his touch on her arms. She wanted never to see him again. She scarcely paid any attention to his impertinent remark about Uncle Edgar’s feelings. She merely said, ‘That is scarcely your business. Besides, you exaggerate.’

‘Miss Fanny, what do you think I came to England for?’

‘To wind up Oliver Davenport’s affairs.’

‘Precisely.’

‘Perhaps it was to find a wife as well?’

‘Perhaps.’ He seemed to be reflecting with himself. ‘You will see. You will see.’ He added, almost with humility, ‘I wish you could have liked me a little. It would have been so much simpler for everybody.’

Fanny forced herself to say, ‘I am sorry. And now I can see that Marcus is crying. Will you excuse me?’

‘Certainly.’

They found they had stopped dancing immediately in front of Lady Arabella, ensconsed in her chair, her only concession to the grandeur of the occasion a jewelled comb in her hair.

She insisted that Fanny stay and talk to her, and Hamish Barlow bowed politely and left.

Lady Arabella smiled conspiratorially.

‘So I see you have got rid of the fox from China.’

‘How do you know?’

‘My dear child, too much gets written on your face. Learn to conceal your feelings. That is the beginning of power. Well, I thoroughly agree with you. The man is a poor little runt.’ She waved her fan impatiently at Uncle Edgar who was approaching. ‘Go away, go away! I am talking to Fanny.’

‘I’m sorry, Mamma, you can’t monopolise Fanny at a ball. Come, Fanny. Dance with me.’

‘I was about to go to Marcus, Uncle Edgar. He is in tears.’

‘Then let the servants dry them. You’re spoiling those children. I’ll have to put my foot down. Come!’

He had taken her hands and drawn her towards him. She knew precisely why he was doing this. He had seen Mr Barlow leave her and had to know the outcome of their conversation. But she was saved the awkwardness of telling him, for Lady Arabella was waving her fan, and saying in her hoarse carrying voice, ‘You’ve been foiled, Edgar. Ha, ha, ha! But if Fanny hadn’t had the courage, I should have come to her rescue, you know.’

‘What does she mean, Uncle Edgar?’ Fanny asked.

Uncle Edgar didn’t answer for a moment. He seemed to be finding dancing too agile an occupation for a man of his years and weight. His face was almost the colour of Aunt Louisa’s dress.

‘Your Great-aunt Arabella,’ he said at last, ‘I am sorry to say, is a mischief-maker. I suppose it is a danger that threatens all old ladies with too little to do. So am I to understand that you’ve dismissed Mr Barlow, Fanny?’

‘Yes.’

‘That was very foolish. Very foolish indeed.’ Uncle Edgar’s voice had gone soft with what seemed like sincere regret and even sympathy.

‘Uncle Edgar, my future at present is with the children.’

She hated having to plead. But supposing he took Nolly and Marcus away from her.

‘Yes, yes.’ He dismissed that subject as if it were of little importance. His eyes were rather persistently on her throat. ‘Do you know, you look extremely well tonight. You remind me of—’

‘Of whom, Uncle Edgar?’

‘Eh? Oh, of someone I knew a long time ago. The long white throat…’ The inward look in his eyes was strange, it seemed to hold more loathing than admiration. Who was the woman he was thinking of? Someone who had hurt him as she had just hurt Hamish Barlow?

‘Well,’ he said, and he seemed to be speaking to someone else, ‘let us be friends in spite of all. Now I will release you to go to those pampered children.’

But Dora had taken the children out, and Fanny, still affected by Uncle Edgar’s oddness which she would not admit had frightened her, suddenly had to escape from the hot ballroom. She slipped into the conservatory hoping no one would be there. It was such a mild still night that most people seeking air would go on to the terrace.

She was unlucky, of course. There was someone there already. She knew him instantly from the set of his shoulders. And in the same moment he must have sensed her approach for he turned.

‘Well, Miss Fanny!’ said Adam Marsh. ‘You look distressed. I realise some of us are not expert dancers.’

‘I have more than sore feet,’ Fanny burst out, and then was angry that the temptation to confide in him was so great. What did he care for her and her problems?

He came towards her, his eyes twinkling maddeningly.

‘You are looking very charming. Has someone been telling you so too pointedly? Mr Barlow perhaps?’

‘They can’t make me marry him?’

‘They?’

Uncle Edgar’s strange look, a mixture of love and hate it had seemed, was still with her. She couldn’t understand why the shiver of fear had gone over her.

‘I would marry you,’ said Adam Marsh, in an undertone, as if speaking to himself.

She flung round on him furiously. ‘Don’t joke with me. Go back to Amelia. She will be missing you.’

He didn’t move. His eyes, too, were on her throat. But not in the way Uncle Edgar’s had been.

‘That’s a very valuable jewel you are wearing for someone who says she is penniless.’

‘If you imagine I have a jewel box overflowing with these things, Mr Marsh, you are mistaken.’

Their eyes met in a hard unflinching stare.

It was Adam who spoke first.

‘I wasn’t imagining anything of the kind. I expect your uncle gave it to you.’

Fanny’s hand was over the sapphire pendant. Why did he have to make his harmless words suggest that the gift had been some kind of bribe? The unreasonable fear caught at her again.

‘What is the matter?’ she heard him asking in concern.

‘I have tried,’ she said intensely, ‘I have tried to get away from here. But the children came to stop me, and now—’

‘I beg you not to go.’

‘You? Why?’

He came closer, not answering. His eyes had that deep strange glitter she had noticed once before.

‘Because I would hate you to go.’

Her voice had lost all its assurance.

‘Go back to Amelia.’

‘You said that before. I have no intention of doing so’—his arms were actually about her waist and she was weakly letting herself be drawn towards him—‘until I have kissed you.’

She felt the hardness of his body against hers. She knew she should struggle, but her lips were parting, her eyes closing. Very well, he would kiss her. What was a kiss? Surely not this strange bewildering ecstasy that made her so dizzy. She had to lean against him, waiting for the touch of his lips which never came.

For a moment later she was snatched back so roughly that she almost fell.

‘Don’t do that, Marsh,’ came George’s voice.

His grip on Fanny’s shoulder was so firm that she would have had to struggle ignominiously to get away. She said furiously, ‘George, you are a devil!’

George laughed with pleasure and triumph. His eyes were too bright with what seemed to be an uncontainable excitement.

‘Fanny is mine, Mr Marsh, as you must have observed. I’ve had to make that clear to Mr Barlow, too.’

Adam was very pale, his mouth angry.

‘Don’t you think you are taking too much on yourself, Davenport? I fancy your cousin isn’t a person who can be dictated to. I suggest you take your hands off her?’

‘So you can kiss her in a dark corner! Not a chance!’

No one had heard Aunt Louisa come. Suddenly she was standing there, like a great crimson peony, visibly palpitating with annoyance.

‘Fanny! What’s going on here? Are you letting these foolish men quarrel over you? George! Mr Marsh! I’m surprised. Is Mr Barlow here, too?’

‘Mr Barlow isn’t here, Mamma,’ George said smugly. ‘Fanny and I have sent him packing. And I’ve just had to explain to Mr Marsh here the lie of the land. Now Fanny is coming to dance with me. You don’t need to worry, Mamma. I have the situation under control.’

Fanny wrenched her arm away from George. She was blazing with anger.

‘I’m not going to dance with you, George. Now or ever! I’m not going to dance with anybody. I have a headache. I ask to be excused.’

‘But, Fanny—’

‘No, George! The situation isn’t under control after all.’

‘But, Fanny—’

‘Fanny!’ Aunt Louisa exclaimed. ‘You can’t leave the ball!’

‘Would you have me faint at your feet, Aunt Louisa?’

‘What nonsense! You have never fainted in your life.’

Fanny was already at the door. George, flushed and perplexed, made an impulsive movement towards her. Adam stood perfectly still, his face composed and expressionless. He might have opposed George, but he was too gentlemanly (or too cowardly?) to oppose Aunt Louisa. Once again she faced her disillusionment. As George had said, he had wanted only a snatched kiss in the dark.

So her beautiful dress, her pleasure in the dancing, her eternal optimism that perhaps tonight something wonderful would happen to her, were all wasted. She had not had the opportunity to dance with Adam once. She had only quarrelled with him, and then weakly surrendered to him. Now she despised him only slightly less than herself.

It was true that she felt dizzy and faint, and for the first time without hope.

She turned and ran up the stairs before anything more could be said.

Hannah came to her room to see if she would have a soothing drink, or needed help to undress. Fanny sent her away. She only wanted to be alone.

She had let her ball dress slip to the floor, and lay on the bed in her petticoats. She could hear the violins and the sound of voices and laughter. They were distant, because her room was at the opposite end of the house, facing the yew garden and beyond it the copse. She supposed it would be almost daylight before the carriages rolled away and the guests who were staying overnight came upstairs.

Her head ached badly, and it was a long time before she could fall asleep. When she did she was woken with shattering suddenness by a hoarse scream.

She started up in terror, the nightmare darkness pressing on her.

Oh, but it was the peacock, she realised, almost but not quite able to laugh at her foolish imagination. Although it still seemed so dark it must be nearly dawn.

A
MELIA ALREADY DRESSED IN
her morning gown of lavender muslin stood at the door.

‘How are you feeling now, Fanny? Wasn’t it sad that you had to leave the ball? Mamma said you were feeling faint.’

Fanny had overslept. She struggled up on the pillows, feeling heavy and dull.

‘I’m better, thank you. What’s the time?’

‘It’s after ten. Mamma said we were both to sleep all morning, but I couldn’t. I scarcely slept at all. I can still hear the violins.’ Amelia began to waltz round the room. ‘Wasn’t it all heavenly. Except—’ She began to frown a little, and Fanny asked, as she was expected to, ‘Except what?’

‘Oh, well!’ Amelia decided to be philosophic. ‘It isn’t something that can’t be remedied. It’s only that I had expected to be kissed, I was determined to be. But somehow I was never able to get the opportunity. There were so many people round me, wanting to dance, or talk to me. Mamma says I was a great success.’

‘And it wouldn’t have mattered who kissed you, so long as you achieved this great event?’

‘Fanny! How can you be so stupid? Oh, I see, you’re teasing me as usual. But, Fanny!’ Amelia was able to stop thinking of herself for long enough to tell the news which had brought her up to Fanny’s room. ‘Whatever happened between you and Mr Barlow last night?’

Fanny’s heart missed a beat. She was suddenly sharply apprehensive. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because he’s left! Either he walked, or got a lift with some of the guests leaving last night, and caught the early train to London this morning.’

Relief swept over Fanny. She could have heard nothing that pleased her more.

Then suddenly she was remembering George’s peculiarly smug look last night, his words, ‘Fanny and I have sent him packing.’

Fanny and I…What had George had to do with it?

‘But didn’t he say good-bye?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Didn’t anyone know he was going?’

‘Oh, yes, Papa did. He said Mr Barlow asked for his bags to be sent on. Now that he has suffered such a great disappointment—that was the way Papa said he expressed it—he only wanted to be away as quickly as possible. I suppose no one can blame the poor man. Fanny, you were cruel to him.’

If he had told Uncle Edgar he was leaving, it must be all right. She had no reasons for these superstitious fears. She tried to concentrate on what Amelia was saying.

‘Would you marry a man you didn’t love?’

‘No, of course I wouldn’t,’ Amelia admitted honestly. ‘I don’t blame you. Neither does Papa.’

‘Doesn’t he?’

‘Well, he thinks you have thrown away a wonderful opportunity, but he has decided to forgive you.’

Hamish Barlow, in that strange almost deadly voice, had said, ‘Your uncle will never forgive you…’

‘Papa is the kindest man,’ Amelia said. ‘You needn’t be afraid he will be angry with you.’

But would he have been very angry indeed if Lady Arabella hadn’t taken her side? Why the old lady had done that was now perfectly plain. George must not be made unhappy. And for some reason Uncle Edgar always listened to Lady Arabella, even though he thought her a mischief-maker.

So on the one side there had been Hamish Barlow, and on the other George. There was always George who, even without his grandmother’s help, would get his own way by any means. She didn’t think she wanted to live.

Dora brought her hot chocolate and fresh brown bread and butter.