Fortune's Mistress (2 page)

She made her tardy appearance some twenty minutes after Mr. Needham arrived. As she quietly entered the bookroom, she caught him examining the potter’s mark on a Chinese vase, his bent figure resembling a scrawled question mark. He set the vase down quickly at her greeting, and turned his posture to a slightly deeper bow.

“
Good morning, Miss Gardiner.” A smile eased slowly across his face as if he were unaccustomed to such an undertaking. “I trust I have not waited upon you too early.”

“
Indeed not,” she told him as she seated herself at the desk. “I believe I requested you call as soon as you had arrived at a figure.”

His smile vanished more quickly than it had appeared, and he immediately assumed a more businesslike demeanor.
“The diamonds are quite fine,” he told her. “Quite the best specimens you have offered.”

She knew this very well, and acknowledged his appraisal wit
h a questioning lift of her eyebrows.

“
I can make you a price of £500 now,” he told her, “but there are several regular buyers whom I expect to see this month. If one of them were to make an offer, I might be able to do even better.”

She nodded, calculating silently how much longer she dared stay in London. Sir Frederick
’s call this morning had unnerved her. It was well, she reflected, that all was in readiness for her departure. She might even depart next week, if she so chose. The sooner she left, the better.

Last week she had finalized the purchase a small house in Cornwall, not far from Land
’s End. She knew little of the district other than its remoteness and a few childhood tales of hauntings and enchantments, but the notion of leaving the city at last for a place known as the end of the earth appealed to her overwhelmingly.

Still, the difference a hundred or more pounds might make was not insignificant. Behind the desk, she placed a tentative hand above her gradually increasing womb. Before long, she would be unable to hide her condition, and she wanted no suspi
cion of the reason for her quitting London to be bandied about.

“
I believe I will accept the figure you suggest,” she said quietly.

Mr. Needham nodded without further com
ment and pulled a bank draft from his satchel. He signed it over to her with a flourish.

“
As always, it is a pleasure to do business with you, Miss Gardiner. You are quite a ... practical woman.”

He departed soon after, leaving Marianne to ponder the draft he had left on the table. The £500 would cus
hion the next several years considerably. She was certain she could engage a nurse for her child now, and tutors or a governess when the time came. Whatever the cost to her pride during such calls as had just passed, the welfare of her child, the opportunity to leave her sordid past behind and assume a new life, must be ensured.

Now that her business with Needham had been concluded, there was little to keep her in town. Everything was in readiness, her carefully drawn plans realized. She was taking little with her besides clothing, books, and a few keepsakes. In spite of the fine spring weather, she felt she could not endure London another day.

And there was but one more appointment to keep, one farewell which must be made.

A scarce hour later, Marianne sat on a bench beneath a grove of trees in Hyde Park, waiting. It was quiet, not yet the fashionable hour for driving out, so she was quite safe from the sharp glances of curious eyes. Still, she had maintained an exceedingly private life, and it always made her nervous to expose herself thus. In spite of the passage of time, she knew quite well her name was still noised about. The mere mention of the name Marianne Gardiner was used as an admonition to heedless young ladies, whose high-spirited behavior had alerted their watchful mamas to the disaster to which their hoydenish tendencies might lead. Her name was synonymous with the spectre of a disgraceful future.

A slight breeze prompted a shiver in spite of the clear spring sunlight, and Marianne wished she had worn a spencer instead of a shawl. Poets might celebrate the beauties of early June, but she was certain they must have found their inspiration while
well wrapped against the changeable weather.

As was her custom at these meetings, she had changed from her rose morning gown to an unremarkable walking dress of a dullish hue. It was best for all concerned that none should have cause to note her presence.

At precisely three o’clock, a familiar carriage slowed along the drive and a lady, followed by her maid, alit. Marianne watched as the driver was told to return in an hour’s time. Just as she did each month, the maid crossed the green to another bench where she sat and took out some needlework. The lady made her way to Marianne’s side and, without ceremony, held out her hands to her.

“
You are quite lovely this afternoon, Olivia,” Marianne said as she kissed the other’s cheek. Her remark was not a mere pleasantry. Olivia shared Marianne’s flawless complexion and, though her hair was a rich chestnut, her eyes flashed the same startling hyacinth blue. Ironically, fortune had allowed her elder sister to retain the lightness of expression so often reserved only for happy childhood years, and she was, indeed, beautiful.

Marianne patted the seat beside her.
“Are Mama and Papa well?” she asked with forced brightness.

Olivia sighed as she seated herself,
“They are, of course, but are most careful not to admit it. Mama spends most of the day lamenting her treacherous nerves, while Papa makes a lively discussion of his gout, but you needn’t unsettle yourself. I suspect these are merely symptoms of boredom and self-absorption.”

Marianne nodded.
‘Twas ever thus with them. She harbored no affection for her parents, but she knew her sister did so out of an unquestioning sense of duty. As Olivia prattled on about their various complaints and eccentricities, Marianne swallowed back the bleak emotions which swirled at the thought of her father and mother. Olivia’s complacency was understandable. Owing to the fact that she was enjoying an extended wedding trip at the time of Marianne’s entry into society, Olivia had never known the whole of her parents’ response to the scandal—the beatings, the recriminations they had rained down upon Marianne when they had learned of her folly.

By the time the new Lady Blakensly returned, her younger sister had already embarked on the life of a demirep, the life she had been forced to choose. Despite Olivia
’s tearful pleadings, Marianne had refused to accept her sister’s offer of a refuge in her own home, and the episode remained something the sisters did not discuss.

“
And William and the children?” Marianne continued, turning the conversation. “How do they fare?”

At the mention of her family, Olivia
’s expression became more animated. “Dear little Maria cut her first tooth this week, and has already contrived to bite Nurse with it!”

“
Charmer!” Marianne laughed.

“
And young Justin has made the acquaintance of his first tutor. I cannot but fear the gentleman is too strict with him, although William merely smiles at my apprehensions, and assures me a bit of discipline is good for him.” She shook her head. “My husband insists—in the nicest way possible, you know—
I
have indulged the lad shockingly, but I cannot agree. I simply like to see my children happy.”

“
And how does your William get on?” Marianne had never met her sister’s husband, but was grateful to him nonetheless for countenancing these precious meetings. Few others would have been so liberal-minded.

“
Very well indeed.” Olivia’s face lit with clear affection and pride. When a cloud of scandal had overhung the family so soon after his entry to it, he had helped Olivia to brave it out, using his name and influence to compel the
ton’s
acceptance of his new wife. “He will assume his seat when next the House meets. He says it is a mere nothing, but I know he is as delighted as I. I only hope he will not object, if I wish to attend the first session.”

“
Why ever should he object?” Marianne asked. “I should think he would wish your presence above all things, my sweet, he is so besotted with you.”

Olivia blushed and took her younger sister
’s hand. “You see, the session will not be for some little time and ... I am once more
enceinte.”

“
You are . . . with child?” Marianne asked, her voice wavering. Although she could never begrudge her sister any joy, she felt her throat tighten painfully. How different would be the upbringing of Olivia’s child, and the one she herself now carried. One feted and fussed over by all and sundry. The other reared in a cloud of seclusion, however loving.

“
Is it not splendid!” Olivia threw back her head and hugged herself. “I had hoped, of course, but I did not dream it would be so soon. There is nothing in the world so joyous as a tiny new baby, Marianne. How I wish you could know what it is— “

She stopped herself suddenly, looking abashed.
“You must forgive me, dearest. How foolish of me to run on so, when my enthusing must surely give you nothing but pain. I know you never like to speak of yourself, but it always seems as if I never allow my tongue a rest, even should you wish to be more forthcoming.”

“
Do not worry,” Marianne said softly. She looked down for a moment at her gloved hands before going on. “I should never have survived these last years, had I not known I would see you here each month and hear about— “

She stopped herself short of saying the words that were on her tongue:
Hear about the life I might have had.
Still, she herself was about to embark on a new life. The shadow of regret which had hung over her so long must be banished for good and all. There was reason for celebration on both their parts, if only Olivia would see it that way. “However, I shall surprise you today, Olivia. There
is
something important I must tell you.”

A flicker of concern darkened Olivia
’s blue eyes.

“
There now, it is not so very dreadful,” her sister assured her. “In fact, on the whole, it is something very good indeed.”

Olivia looked doubtful, her question showing clearly in her eyes: how could anything under the sun improve her sister
’s lot? Then her expression brightened and she jumped to her feet, clapping her hands together in joyful surprise. “What a great dolt I am not to have thought of it at once! It is Monte Cheswick, is it not? He has asked you to marry him!”

Marianne quickly negated that possibility with a shake of her head.
“What? Do you think I should allow myself to ruin yet another life? I hope I have not given you reason to think of such a thing, Olivia. I would not stoop to such a trick as to accept him, even were he so foolish as to ask.” She took a deep breath before going on. “The truth is, I shall be leaving London. Next week, in fact, if all goes as I plan.”

Olivia gasped and whirled toward her.
“Leaving London?”

“
Yes. No one must know, but I shall soon be quitting the city for good, departing for the country. Alone.”

“
Departing …?” Olivia stared at her blankly. “But what does this mean? How? Where? And for heaven’s sake,
why?”

“
I can supply the answers to your questions far more easily than I arrived at them, I can tell you,” she returned, holding out her hand once more. Olivia took it in her own, but Marianne could feel a tremor run between them. “Calm yourself, dear. All it really means is that I shall at last have some independence. As to how, I have had for some time an amount put by for the occasion. Where ... I am afraid it must be Cornwall. I require a remote location.”

“
Remote! Cornwall!” Olivia pulled away from her. “You might as well have said Australia! For God’s sake, Marianne, tell me, why must you go so far?”

Marianne leaned her head back and stared up into the spacio
us blue above her for a long moment, avoiding her sister’s piercing eye. “It is merely, my dear,” she said at last, “that, like you, I am with child.”

Olivia sank to the bench beside her, entirely still for a moment, silent for once. The breeze ruffled the newly leafed trees, but no other sound intruded. Silhouetted against the bright sky, Olivia
’s profile revealed the set of a strong-willed chin. She looked for all the world as she had when they were both children, and some nursery battle was about to be engaged. At last, she stood and attempted a thin smile.

“
Let us walk a little, Marianne,” she said. Although she maintained her demeanor admirably, Olivia’s voice faltered, weak as a girl’s. “Of a sudden, my head feels as if it has been rolled up in cobwebs. I fear it must be cleared, before I can comprehend this business.”

Marianne arose, and the sisters made their way down a secluded walk. Still silent, she noted abstractedly that the earlier blossoms of spring
crocus had faded into little piles of withered gold and purple, like miniature gowns discarded after a ball. How many centuries had it been since she and Olivia had daydreamed about the revels of fairy folk, dancing till first light in spring gardens? In spite of the new life within her, she felt very old indeed.