Meridon (Wideacre Trilogy 3) (41 page)

‘Don’t fret,’ she said. ‘Talk to Perry. If he wants to go back to the country with you and he wants to bring the marriage forward then I am agreeable. But leave your thoughts about Wideacre alone until you know a little more about running the estate, Sarah. They are not sharing with you, remember. They are taking from you. It is you who are giving there.’

‘Yes,’ I said. I dropped her a curtsey and went towards the door.

‘They are thieves wrapped up pretty,’ she said softly. ‘All their ideas, all their sharing is being paid for by you. They are playing Mr Fortescue, they are playing you. You are being gulled, Sarah.’

My shoulders slumped. My moment’s certainty, my moment’s faith in a world which was not harsh and uncaring was eroded at once. ‘Yes,’ I said again. ‘I shall stop it when Wideacre is my own.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘And I shall get up. We are going to a breakfast at Lady Gilroy’s house, remember? I shall wear my white gown with the twilled white bonnet I think. And you, you must wear your dark green. Her daughter is miserably fair, you will quite drown her with that colour. And wear your hair long.’

‘Yes,’ I said. I went to the door and paused. Lady Clara raised her eyebrows to see what more I wanted of her.

‘You have planned a future for us all, have you not?’ I asked. ‘You had this in your mind for some time?’

She slid from the covers and went to her dressing-table. She gazed at herself in the mirror and patted the skin under her eyes where the fretwork of lines told of her age.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘When little George was alive I worked on him to ensure that when his father died and he had my fortune he would be utterly under my control. Then when he died, I knew it would have to be Perry instead.’

She sighed and sat before the mirror and pulled off the lace nightcap and tossed it on the floor.

‘Perry is easier in some ways,’ she said. ‘He always was a weak little boy, easily frightened. I can manage him. My only worry was that he would fall for some high-mettled slut who would set him against me.’

Her eyes met mine in the mirror and she smiled. ‘I trust you,’ she said. ‘You are cold as ice, like me. I recognized you the moment I saw you.’ She smiled. ‘When he brought you in to me, I said to myself, “Here she is, this is the one that is going to keep Perry steady and me safe.”’

I nodded. ‘You planned our marriage from the start,’ I said levelly.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was good for all of us. Perry could never cope with a high-spirited well-bred wife. She’d cuckold him in days, and then put her by-blow in the Hall. I needed a daughter-in-law I could trust, not some silly child with parents who would watch over the two of them. And you need someone to help you against the Wideacre trust and against Mr Fortescue before you are ruined. You need a family.’

‘It all sounds very convenient,’ I said.

She smiled. ‘Don’t think I’ll rule you,’ she said. ‘I’ve told you my feelings and I’ve hidden nothing. If you want to marry early and take Perry back to the country you can do so. I won’t stand in your way. You can marry him and order him as you please. All you must do for me is make sure my funds are safe,
and that there is an heir to the estate. The rest is your own affair.’

‘I’ll go and see the lawyers today then,’ I said.

She smiled, as beautiful as a woman half her age. ‘As you wish,’ she said. ‘Send a footman round with a note to them. But get ready for the breakfast now, and try and do something about the smell of horse.’

I curtseyed, and left her to the contemplation of her lovely face in the mirror.

The lawyers could see me in the early afternoon so I left a message with Perry’s valet that his lordship must be up and dressed by three. When Lady Clara and I came back from the breakfast Perry was downstairs in the library, glancing at a newspaper, a mug of ale untasted on the table beside him. His mama glanced in at him and gave him a slight smile, and then went to sit in her parlour. Perry rose from his seat when he saw her, and remained standing, smiling and blinking at me.

‘I’m at your service,’ he said. ‘But I have a devilish head. Did you want us to do something special? I’m damned if I can ride, Sarah.’

I crossed the room and put my hand against his forehead. He was as hot as if he had a fever.

‘Are you ill?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It was drinking too much brandy, I suppose. It always makes me hot.’

His face was flushed, his curly blond hair a riot.

‘Go and wash your face, and brush your hair,’ I said. ‘We have an appointment to see the lawyers. I want us to bring the date of our wedding early.’

He was instantly wary. ‘What does mama say?’ he asked.

I shrugged. ‘She says we may do as we wish,’ I said. ‘I want to go back to Havering, back to Wideacre. Your mama is determined to have her Season. This town life is no good for you, Perry. You are drunk every night and ill every morning. We should go back to the country where we were happier.’

‘I’m happy here!’ he protested. ‘Dammit, Sarah! The whole
point of our getting married was so that I could get my hands on my money and kick up some larks. There’s not much point being well breeched and stuck in the country in the middle of the Season.’

‘You were crying,’ I said flatly. ‘You were clinging to the railings this morning crying like a baby. You think you are having a good time but you were weeping this morning. You were never sad like that at Havering. We should go back home, Perry.’

He hesitated. His mouth downturned. ‘I had a bad night,’ he conceded. ‘It was some damned awful brandy which Miles had. It made us all maudlin.’

‘No,’ I said firmly.

Perry swayed slightly, put his head on one side and tried a charming smile.

‘No,’ I said.

‘We’ll bring the marriage forward but we’ll stay in town,’ he suggested.

‘No,’ I said again.

Perry made a face at me like a naughty child.

‘We’ll marry at once and we’ll go to the country,’ I offered.

‘We’ll stay there until you’ve stopped drinking every night. Then we’ll come back to town. But you might find you prefer the country, once you’re there.’

He brightened. ‘I might,’ he said agreeably. ‘And once it’s my own house we can always have some fellows down to stay. And there will be parties and hunting.’

He made up his mind. As fickle as a child with a new toy. ‘All right,’ he said, suddenly agreeable. ‘As long as Mama approves.’

‘She does,’ I said, steering him towards the stairs. ‘Go and wash your face, the carriage is waiting.’

He did as he was bid, and we were only a half an hour late for the lawyers. I had made the appointment in Perry’s name and when Mr Fursely came forward bowing low, he looked surprised that we had got there at all.

I told him that we wanted the marriage brought forward, and the contracts written quickly and he retreated behind his desk and rang for the right papers to be brought to him. His servant
brought us glasses of madeira and little biscuits. Perry had three glasses to my one, and his face lost its hectic flush and he looked better for it.

‘We are nearly ready,’ Mr Fursely said. ‘The trustee’s lawyers have been most helpful. There is still some problem about the Wideacre estate if you should die without heirs.’

Perry poured himself another glass of madeira and strolled over to the window and looked out.

Mr Fursely looked up and saw that at least I was listening.

‘The entail,’ he said. ‘It specifies that Wideacre is inherited by the next of kin, whether male or female.’

I nodded.

‘Normally, it would pass to your husband’s family, as your dowry which you bring with you to marriage,’ he said. He put his fingers together one by one, placing them like a pyramid over the papers. ‘But here’ he said, ‘I think one could argue that the situation is quite different.’

I waited. He was slow. Perry turned back and poured himself another of the little glasses. I looked at him, but he was careful not to catch my eye.

‘The intention of the entail is quite clear,’ he said. He looked at the papers. ‘Harold Lacey set it up,’ he said. ‘Your grandfather, Miss Lacey.’

I nodded.

‘A solid document,’ Mr Fursely said, complimenting the long-dead lawyers who had drawn up the entail. ‘The wishes are clear. The estate goes to the next of kin of the Laceys whether male or female. I don’t think it can revert to the Havering family in the event of your death.’

Perry turned back from the window and seemed to waken to the discussion.

‘That’s all right,’ he said, dismissing a fortune in good agricultural land with a wave of his glass. ‘We can agree to that. Mama said we could. If we have a male heir first, then he gets both estates. If we have a girl first she gets Wideacre. If we die without children then Havering goes to Havering kin, and Wideacre goes to the Lacey next-of-kin.’

Mr Fursely blinked at this sudden explosion of information from Perry. ‘I should prefer Wideacre to come to the Haverings,’ he said. ‘It is Miss Lacey’s dowry so Wideacre is really part of the Havering estate once you two are married.’

There was a high cool singing noise in my head, the sound I had heard when I first came to Wideacre, that lonely night in the dark. It was as if Wideacre was calling me, calling me home to the house which waited for me in the burnished woodland of the autumn trees where the lawns were white in the morning with frost and where the sun was bright red when it set at early evening. As if Wideacre should belong to me, and to no one else.

‘It’s fair enough as it stands,’ Perry said expansively. ‘Mama said we could take it as it is. Don’t you think, Sarah? Wideacre comes to the Havering estate as Sarah’s dowry, but it’s entailed on our first-born child. If we have no children it goes back to the Laceys.’

I shook my head to clear my ears of the calling noise. It was too late to think that I was signing the land over to Perry and to Perry’s family. I wanted us to be away from London, I wanted to take Perry away from the clubs and the gambling hells. I wanted to be back on the land with the money and the authority to run it as I pleased.

‘I agree to that,’ I said.

Perry went to the table and brought the decanter towards me. ‘We’ll drink to that!’ he said happily and poured us all another glass. I noticed his hands were quite steady.

‘And will Mr Fortes…Fortescue’s lawyers agree?’ he asked, slurring his speech a little.

Mr Fursely put his fingertips against each other once more. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘It is a reasonable proposition. They cannot have wished to face the problem of breaking the entail if we had been stubborn.’

‘Good,’ said Perry. ‘We'll be off then. How soon can the papers be drawn up?’

Mr Fursely nodded. ‘As soon as Mr Fortescue’s advisers are ready,’ he said.

‘And the deeds?’ Perry asked. ‘I should like to take them with
us.’ He put one finger owlishly to his nose. ‘I could raise some cash using them as security,’ he said. ‘Absolutely safe, of course. But if I had them in my hand they could tide me over some little difficulties.’

Mr Fursely looked as if he had suggested something improper. ‘I could not possibly ask Mr Fortescue for such a thing until the contracts are signed and the marriage has taken place,’ he said shocked. ‘And I would warn you, with respect, Lord Peregrine, against using your lands as security against debts. If the deeds fall into the wrong hands…’

‘Oh gad no!’ Perry said with a smile. ‘This was an arrangement between gentlemen. But no matter. It’s nothing urgent. We’ll have a crust to eat tonight.’

Mr Fursely permitted himself a thin smile. ‘Of course, my lord,’ he said.

Perry held the door for me as we left the office and then Mr Fursely escorted us to the carriage and stood on the street bowing as we drove away.

‘Y’know what?’ Perry said pleasantly. ‘If they can sport some canvas on these contracts, there’s no reason why we should not be married at once.’

I nodded.

‘I’ll go and see the vicar,’ Perry said, suddenly confident. ‘You can drop me off on your way home and I’ll go and see the rector or the vicar or whatever he is. You wanted a quiet wedding anyway, Sarah. I’ll ask him when we could be married.’

I paused. High over the noise of the cart and carriage wheels, I could hear that warning singing noise again. It sounded loud in my head. I shook my head to clear it, but I could not be rid of it.

‘You all right?’ Perry asked.

‘It’s nothing,’ I said. ‘Yes, we could be married this month. Do go and see the parish priest, Perry. I want to be home at Wideacre. I want us to go home as soon as we can.’

‘You’ll miss all the Christmas parties,’ he warned me.

I smiled. ‘I don’t care that much for them, Perry,’ I said honestly. ‘I’d rather be at Wideacre for Christmas.’

Perry smiled. ‘Well, I’ll see what the vicar says then,’ he said pleasantly and pulled the cord to warn the coachman to stop. ‘You don’t have some money on you, do you, Sarah?’ he asked. ‘I have to pay a fellow some money I lost at cards. It’d suit me to settle at once.’

I opened my reticule. My purse was inside with a couple of gold sovereigns I was carrying for a dressmaker bill.

‘Here,’ I said, handing it over.

I remembered for a moment times in my life when money was hard earned and slowly spent. I remembered begging Da for money, and the bargain we would strike that I had to stay on an unbroke horse for a penny. I remembered her dancing with her skirts lifted high, and picking pockets, and pretending to be lost on street corners when fat old ladies came by. But that was a long long time ago. Now I gave away gold sovereigns lightly, as if I had forgotten how hard they were to earn.

‘You’re a darling,’ Perry said pleased. The coach stopped and he jumped out without waiting for the steps to be let down.

‘Tell Mama I’ll not be back for dinner,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and see this vicar and then I’ll go on out.’

I nodded and waved as the carriage moved off. It was the first time I had given him money.

It was not the last. He was late home that night, even later than us, and we were in yawning after a dull ball and supper party at half-past one. So I did not see him that night. But at noon the next day he tapped on the door of my room and came in while I was sitting before my mirror to set my bonnet straight.

He nodded casually to the maid and she swept him a curtsey and went from the room without another word. I watched him in the glass. I did not think I would ever learn that knack, that Quality knack, of getting what you wanted without even having to ask for it.

‘Sarah, d’you have much money by you?’ he asked abruptly. ‘I’m short, and I lost again last night.’

I reached for my gloves and smoothed them out.

‘I have most of my quarter’s allowance left,’ I said. ‘But I will need that for my bills. Your mama and I have been buying dresses ever since we arrived in London.’

Perry nodded. His eyes were red-rimmed again, his hands were shaking slightly.

‘Be a darling and lend it to me,’ he said. ‘I need it this morning, I’ll pay you back tomorrow.’

I hesitated. ‘I don’t think I should, Perry,’ I said. ‘If you have overspent your allowance on gambling, I suppose you should settle your debts before you have more.’

He chuckled at once, and his grin was rueful. ‘Dammit Sarah, don’t talk like Mama!’ he begged. ‘I’ve never pretended for a moment that I could stay inside my allowance. Just because you’re a little goody with your money, doesn’t mean I can save mine.’

I laughed outright. ‘I’m not a goody,’ I said. ‘I just don’t think I’ll ever see it again once it gets inside your pocket.’

Perry smiled. ‘So what?’ he said carelessly. ‘When we are married we’ll have all the money we need, I’ll repay you then.’

I turned to face him and laid my gloves aside. ‘Easy talking,’ I said shrewdly. ‘If you’re a gamester you’ll get through your fortune and mine. There’s never enough money for a gambler.’

He was instantly penitent. ‘I know,’ he said gravely. ‘Don’t preach, Sarah. It’s the life we lead in London. I gamble and I drink. I owe so much money I can’t even add up how much it is. One of my friends has sold my vowels to a money-changer and so he is charging me interest on my debts. I’m in a mess, Sarah. I wish we were well out of it.’

‘D’you like gambling?’ I asked. I had seen enough men half-ruined when all they had to bet were pennies, it made me sick with nerves when I was in the great houses of London and saw people staking hundreds of pounds.

‘No,’ he said frankly. ‘I like winning well enough, but I hate losing. And I hate losing when it goes badly. Trust me this once, Sarah and I’ll clear as many of my debts as I can, and I won’t gamble any more.’

‘It’s exciting though, isn’t it?’ I asked him. I was wondering if Will was right, and Perry had gaming in his blood.

‘Not when I lose,’ he said ruefully. ‘I only really do it to pass the time, and everyone gambles, you know that, Sarah!’

I nodded. It was true. People bet on the turn of a card, on the fall of a die. I had been in a group which had a thousand pounds on the table as to whether Lady Fanshawe would wear her awful green dress in public again. My belief was that Perry played because it was part of his London life. He was not a gambler at heart. And I could take him away from London, I could take him away from gambling and drink.

Besides; I had promised I would not leave him. He had asked me to stay with him for ever. We were betrothed. I did not want to sour it by haggling over a handful of guineas.

I opened the right-hand drawer in my dressing-table. ‘Here,’ I said.

I had my quarter’s allowance of gold coins in a purse, locked in the little jewel-box. It opened with a key. The purse clinked,
it was heavy with the coins. There were fifty gold sovereigns in it; Mr Fortescue had been generous in his estimates of my needs.

‘You can have forty,’ I said. ‘I must pay the dressmakers something on account or they will be charging me for loans too.’

Perry caught at my hand and went to kiss it before he took the purse. I pulled my hand away and he did not try to hold me.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That will clear the worst of it, and I’ve another quarter’s allowance due next month and I know my luck will change soon. I can feel it. Anyway, soon we will be married and I shall be able to get at my money without waiting for an allowance.’

‘Why don’t you ask your mama to give you more?’ I suggested.

Perry was heading for the door but he turned back towards me with a little half-smile. ‘She likes me in debt,’ he said as if it were obvious. ‘She can make me do whatever she likes when I am in debt to her.’

I nodded. It was all of a piece.

‘Well, keep it safe then,’ I said. ‘Or I shall make you do what I like when you are in debt to me.’

He hesitated, with the door half open. ‘But all you want me to do is to go home with you, and away from London, isn’t it?’ he said. He gave me one of his endearing half-smiles. ‘You can order me, Sarah,’ he said.

I was going to reply but there was a clatter at the front door.

‘There’s the carriage!’ I said, grabbing at my gloves. ‘I must go, Perry, I am driving in the park with Lady Jane Whitley.’

Perry swept an ironic bow in a jest at my enviable company, and I pulled on my gloves and ran down the stairs past him and out to the wintry sunshine.

Lady Jane and I had the nearest thing to a friendship which I had found in London, and it was not very like a friendship at all. She had pale brown hair and light hazel eyes and she believed that beside my unruly ripple of red curls she looked pale and beguiling.

She was given over to invalidism and she had fainting fits and
vapours and she had to keep out of draughts and not dance after midnight and not touch food and drink which was either too hot or too cold. I think her mama thought that suitors who found me too boisterous for their taste might turn to her with relief. Lady Jane herself was frank to me about her absolute urgency to find a man and marry before her bedridden and mean papa worked out how much her Season was costing him and ordered her home.

She was an only child so she had no sister to go about with, and I was convenient as a companion. I liked her as well as any other young lady because she had no curiosity about me and did not trouble me with questions about my family and childhood. The only thing about her I could not stomach was the way she leaned on me as we walked, or took my hand when we rode in the carriage together. I had schooled myself not to shake her off but when I stepped into her carriage and sat beside her I had to grit my teeth not to pull away as she slid her hand under my elbow. I could even feel the back of her hand against my body. The intimacy of that touch set my teeth on edge.

We were riding in her papa’s landau and we both unfurled our parasols to protect our complexions. Lady Jane was as pale as a skinned mushroom, beside her I knew I looked wind-burnt, sunburnt. It could not be helped. Lady Clara had loaded me with one cream and lotion after another, but nothing could bleach the warm colours of my skin. I had slept in the open air with my face up to a midday sky too often. However, I kept my parasol over my bonnet as I had been taught and I listened to Lady Jane’s prattle in my right ear as we set off down the road towards the park.

She was telling me about some gloves she had bought, and I could hear my voice saying ‘No!’ and ‘Fancy!’ when she paused for breath. I was watching the coachman guide the horses through the traffic and watching the streets slide past us. It seemed a long time since I had driven a wagon myself. These long weary weeks in London had come to seem like a lifetime. I felt I knew this way to the park and back as if I had ridden or walked it every single day of my life. I knew it better than I had known any other street, any other landscape. I thought with
sudden regret that if I had stayed anywhere, and learned anywhere so very very well, it would have been better for me if that place had been Wideacre.

My throat was suddenly tight thinking of my home. Winter was making London cold and damp, the street vendors had set up braziers at street corners to sell baked potatoes, hot gingerbread, and roasted chestnuts. They were the lucky ones with hot wares – the girls carrying pails of milk were pinched and wan with the chill; the flower sellers and the watercress sellers shivered in the damp winds.

I knew it would be cold at Wideacre – I was not one of Jane’s poets sighing for pretty landscapes and forgetting the hard ache of bare feet on frozen earth. But I thought that the trees would grow stark and lovely as they shed their leaves. I thought the woods would smell nutty and strong if I had been there to kick my way through the piles of leaves. I thought the chestnut tree at the curve of the drive would show its shape, as rounded as a humming top now the great fans of yellow leaves were carpeting the drive beneath it. I wanted to be at Wideacre while autumn turned into winter. I felt as if the land needed me there.

‘…and I don’t even like white,’ Jane finished triumphantly.

‘I do,’ I said contributing my two words.

‘It’s all right for you…’ she started again. The coachman turned left when we reached the park and started the slow trot around the perimeter road. We were following Lady Daventry’s coach, I could just see her famous matched bays. Jane continued to talk but she was keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who might see us and wave. Every time the bright colours of a guardsman’s uniform came into sight she lost the thread of her thought until she had taken a good look at him and made sure she could not stop the carriage to beckon him over.

‘It’s so old-fashioned to be presented in white…’ she said.

It was the presentation at Court which was on her mind. Her mama was making her wear a satin which had been ripped back from her own wedding gown, Jane had told me and sworn me to secrecy. She could not have borne the humiliation if it had been widely known.

‘It must be lovely for you to be rich…’ she said longingly.

All at once she brightened. She had seen a young man, I knew it without turning my head.

‘Coachman, wait!’ she shouted and he obediently pulled up the horses while Jane leaned forward and waved frantically at two distant figures strolling on the grass. It was Sir Robert Handley and Mr Giles Devenish.

‘How d’you do, Sir Robert, Mr Devenish!’ I said as they came closer. Jane nearly fell out of the carriage.

‘Oh, Sir Robert!’ she cried, and laughed at once as if he had said something extraordinarily amusing other than a simple ‘Good day’. He smiled and went around to her side of the carriage. Mr Devenish lounged towards me as if I ought to be grateful for his attention.

‘Shall I see you at Lady Clark’s tonight?’ he asked me.

I nodded. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well, at any rate, I shall be there. I doubt if you will see me. She told us she had invited two thousand people.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Giles. ‘But then so few of them will come!’

I could not help a malicious chuckle. ‘I’m surprised you have accepted if people are priding themselves on staying away,’ I said.

‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘Her mama and mine were bosom bows, I shall be there, at my post, from first to last.’

I nodded. ‘We are going there early, and then on to Lady Meeching’s card party,’ I said.

Giles raised his eyebrows. ‘Practically out of town,’ he said.

I let it pass. ‘Then we are going to Lady Maria’s supper party,’ I said.

Giles raised his eyebrows even higher. ‘The fair Maria,’ he said. ‘Your sister-in-law to be. I should have thought that Lady Meeching’s was not far enough. If I was going to marry poor Perry and dine with the fair Maria I should flee to Brighton at the very least.’

I gave him a level glance. ‘Who do you like in London society, Mr Devenish?’

He smiled to conceal his irritation. ‘I’m quite fond of George
Wallace,’ he said judiciously. ‘And my papa commands my filial respect. But apart from them…’ he paused. ‘But what about you, Miss Lacey? I take it that I am reproved for failing to love my fellow man. So do tell me, whom have you met in London that you especially like?’ His gaze drifted past me to Jane who was leaning forward, twirling her parasol, laughing with her mouth wide open at one of Sir Robert’s frigid quips. He looked beyond her, across the park, where one fashionable Quality person after another walked, rode or drove in diminishing circles, trying to waste the time until it was afternoon, then wasting some more time until dinner.

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. Suddenly I lost all desire to be a proper young lady. The little Rom chavvy called Meridon spoke through my lips though I was seated in a landau talking to a beau at the pinnacle of fashion. ‘I’ve met no one,’ I said. ‘I don’t reprove you or anyone else. I’ve seen no one to admire and I’ve made no friends. I am lonelier now than when I was a little gypsy chavvy. I’ve slept better on the floor, and ate better off wooden platters. I’ve no time for this life at all, to tell you the truth. And you-’ I paused and looked at him speculatively. ‘I’ve met better-mannered polecats,’ I said.

His eyes went purple with rage, the smile wiped away. ‘You are an original indeed,’ he said. It was the worst thing he could think of saying to a young woman, not yet presented at court. He stepped back from the side of the carriage as if he were pulling the skirts of his coat away from contamination. Sir Robert saw his movement away and was swift to say farewell to Jane and tip his hat to me. Jane tried to detain him, but he was too polite and skilled.

‘How could you let him go!’ she said crossly to me as the carriage moved on again. ‘You must have seen that I was talking to Sir Robert. I am certain he was about to ask me for a dance at Lady Clark’s ball, and now I have no supper partner at all!’

I was suddenly weary of the whole thing. ‘I am sorry,’ I said. My throat was as tight as if I were choking on the London air. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘That poisonous Devenish was being spiteful and I wanted to be rid of him.’

Jane gasped. ‘You never upset him!’ she said, appalled. ‘If you said something he didn’t like it’ll be all over London by tomorrow! Oh, Sarah! How could you!’

I sighed. ‘I didn’t say anything that wasn’t the truth,’ I said miserably. ‘And anyway, I don’t care.’ I hesitated. ‘Jane, would you mind very much dropping me off when we get around to Grosvenor Gate again? I have a sore throat.’