The Marquis Takes a Bride (17 page)

“But Chalmers has gone to earth,” said Perry. “No one has seen him about.”

“I have news from my spies,” said Chemmy, “that he has been frequenting the gin palaces of Tothill. We shall no doubt find him there. We shall be very friendly and a shade patronizing and a little bit triumphant. That should get him.”

“You are exposing your wife to a great deal of danger,” said Perry severely, but the Marquis only laughed. “She will be closely guarded, I assure you. I feel this comedy of errors is drawing to a close. There is nothing like old-fashioned marriage, after all, Perry. You should try it.”

“I mean to,” said Perry grimly. “But first let us hunt down the elusive Mr. Chalmers…”

The rain hammered relentlessly down on the mean and narrow streets of Tothill, one of London’s less salubrious areas.

“Is there no end to this search,” complained Perry. “My very clothes are beginning to stink. We have crawled in and out of a dozen low kens these past two hours and have seen neither hide nor hair of Mr. Chalmers.”

“Patience,” was all the Marquis would say. Perry looked at his big friend. The Marquis appeared to have recovered all of his unflappable amiability. His morning dress was as exquisite as ever and, in fact, his attire looked more suitable for paying a call on Carlton House than for searching around the stews of this most depressing of areas, where the occupants lurched around the streets in the last stages of rags and filth and degradation.

Perry could only be thankful that the Marquis had decided to make his search in his closed carriage.

At last the Marquis rapped on the roof of the coach with his cane and the carriage lurched to a halt.

Peering through the rain-streaked window, Perry saw the red latticed windows of another tavern called The Jolly Beggars. Both men climbed down into the full violence of the rain.

The Marquis bent his head and ducked into the low doorway of the inn. He pushed open the inner door which led to the taproom. “Found!” he muttered under his breath. Perry stood on tiptoe and peered over the Marquis’ broad shoulder.

Guy Chalmers was lounging in a settle beside the inn fireplace. A slatternly tavern wench was sprawled on his knee and Guy was absentmindedly fondling her dirty breasts as he stared at the Marquis framed in the doorway. The rest of the company consisted of a group of five young bloods who were also sprawled about at their ease.

“What brings you here?” asked Guy with a fixed smile painted on his face.

“Why you, dear boy,” said the Marquis amiably. He looked down from his great height at two of the young bucks sprawled on the settle opposite Guy and said softly, “Do you mind if I sit down for a minute? I am extremely fatigued.”

They rose with their mouths open and shuffled slightly to one side.

“So kind,” said Chemmy, carefully dusting the settle with his handkerchief and sitting down. “And now my dear Guy. I have
very
good news for you. I know your concern for Jennie and I know you will be pleased. We have decided to terminate our marriage of convenience.”

“Divorce?” said Guy eagerly, pushing the dirty female off his lap so that she fell with a bump on the floor.

Chemmy raised his thin eyebrows. “Of
course
not,” he said earnestly. “On the contrary. Jennie and I have discovered that we are… er…
very
much in love.”

“Why are you telling me this?” said Guy harshly.

“To put your mind at ease,” said Chemmy, stretching out his long legs and sinking his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. “You have often told me how fond you are of her. So now you need have no more worries. She is happy and very much in love. We celebrate our bliss at this ball Jennie is holding at Runbury Manor.”

“So
that
is why she wrote to me and told me I must not attend,” said Guy savagely.

“She did?” The Marquis looked much amused. “Pity. But no doubt we shall see you around on some other occasion. I hope you do not object if we take our leave, Chalmers.” He took out a scented handkerchief and held it delicately under his nose. “The air in here is a trifling strong for me.”

Guy leaned back in the settle and said softly, “You have indeed ventured into a rough neighborhood, Marquis. You may leave any time you wish, but perhaps these others do not wish you to go.”

The other young men grinned at his words and pressed closer. One of them pushed his face close to the Marquis’ and said, “You ain’t going nowhere, pretty boy.”

The Marquis took his hand out of his pocket and, shaking back the ruffles of lace at his wrist, lazily pushed the leering face away.

“Keep your distance, fellow,” he said good-humoredly. “You stink abominably.”

The youth swung an ugly punch full at Chemmy’s face. The next minute his arm was seized and twisted and he found to his surprise that he was lying in the empty fireplace, staring up into the Marquis’ mocking eyes.

Guy’s dirty lady friend let out a squawk of fright and ran out of the inn.

“What’s up with you!” howled Guy. “There’s only two of them and one of ’em’s a little runt.”

There was a gasp of pure rage from Perry. Finding himself confronted by two of the bucks, his fist lashed out and bloodied one’s face. He then picked up the huge struggling bulk of the other as if he were holding a featherweight and threw him straight across the room, where he crashed full into Guy.

“How
noisy
it is here,” said Chemmy plaintively, getting to his feet.

He found his way to the door blocked by the remaining two, and got rid of that obstacle by crashing their heads together.

“Come, Perry,” he said. “An interesting entertainment, Mr. Chalmers.”

But Guy had fled.

The sun sparkled down on Runbury Manor and summer seemed to return to the countryside. The old house was in a bustle of preparation for the ball to be held that evening.

Gardeners crossed and re-crossed the hall, carrying huge tubs of flowers. Men hammered and whistled from the south lawn, where a huge marquee was being erected to form a temporary ballroom, complete with polished wood floor. The servants worked with a will, having been promised their own ball the following week. Jeffries, the lady’s maid, led small guided tours of servants to view Jennie’s ball gown, which had been sent to her by her husband.

It was made of pale rose muslin, so fine as to be almost transparent. The underdress was of intricately embroidered rose silk. The small puffed sleeves were decorated with a tiny edging of small rosebuds and the deep flounces were trimmed with the same flowers. On a special stand on the dressing table were displayed the Charrington diamonds which John, Chemmy’s groom, had conveyed to the Manor himself. They had been accompanied by a brief note from the Marquis, who had simply stated that he hoped his wife would oblige him by wearing the jewels.

Jennie had read the note several times, wondering what her husband had been thinking when he sent them, happy one minute that he was coming to the ball, sad the next that he had not arrived sooner.

Sally, too, was disappointed that Perry had not rushed immediately to her side. He had sent a formal acceptance of Jennie’s invitation but there were no more passionate lover-like letters.

Both girls escaped to a far corner of the gardens in order to worry together in peace and quiet, each one voicing her own thoughts and not listening to the other.

“It’s not as if I really
know
Chemmy,” said Jennie sadly. “I’ve thought and thought about him so much that I cannot even remember what he looks like. Perhaps I should have asked Guy to the ball, after all. But I thought Chemmy would like it better if Guy wasn’t there. Do you think Chemmy can possibly be
jealous
of Guy?”

“I don’t understand Perry’s not arriving before this,” worried Sally aloud, not having paid the slightest heed to what Jennie was saying. “Did I ever love him? Did I ever love Andrew Porteous? Oh, I’m so upset and one thing is clear. I must marry someone. I shall be an old maid soon!”

“He thinks me mercenary,” said Jennie sadly, watching a blackbird tugging a worm from the lawn. “But he
did
send the diamonds. Has he forgiven me? Or does he think he is giving in to my greed. Oh, dear.”

“Oh, dear,” echoed Sally, and both girls relapsed into silence.

Jennie came out of her reverie to notice that a liveried footman was crossing the lawn towards her, carrying a long letter on a tray.

“It is probably from one of our guests, who finds he is unable to make the journey,” she said to Sally as she broke open the letter without bothering to look at the seal.

“Oh, ’tis from Guy. Ooooh!” With dilating eyes, Jennie scanned the single sheet.

“Meet me on the far side of the lake at ten this evening,” Guy had written. “Your husband is trying to kill you so that he can marry Alice Waring. I have definite proof. An’ you love me, Jennie, do not fail me.”

“What is it?” demanded Sally.

“Nothing,” said Jennie quickly. “Do excuse me, Sally.”

She ran quickly to the house, her heart beating against her ribs. Which one should she trust? Guy, whom she had known since a child, or the enigmatic husband she loved despite her better judgement. And ten o’clock! The ball would be in full swing and all the guests would be there.
I shall worry myself into a fever if I go on like this
, thought poor Jennie.
I must be very brave and pray that Guy has no proof at all and is simply talking nonsense
.

The ball was a resounding success for everyone except Jennie and Sally. So many people turned up that one was in constant danger of having one’s gown torn off one’s back, thought Jennie. But society was never happier than when they were jammed together, elbow to elbow.

The Marquis of Charrington and his friend, Mr. Deighton, were still unaccountably absent. Jennie had carefully arranged her dance program so that she would be free at ten o’clock. She looked a stately little figure, every inch a marchioness, with the Charrington diamonds blazing in her hair and at her neck.

One minute it seemed as if ten o’clock would never arrive and the next minute it seemed, when she asked her partner the time, the dreaded hour had nearly arrived.

She suddenly wished she had confided in Sally, but Sally had never cared for Guy and would simply make her usual remark that Guy was jealous of Chemmy, nothing more.

At a few minutes before ten, Jennie slipped from the marquee-ballroom on the south lawn and made her way to the house. She left the diamonds in the care of the surprised Jeffries, explaining to the wondering lady’s maid that they were so heavy, they gave her a headache.

Then she collected a long gardening cloak from a closet in the hall and made her way in the direction of the far side of the lake. She was glad she had rid herself of the diamonds, which would surely have advertised her presence to anyone watching from a distance.

The faint sweet strains of a waltz floated on the warm, still air and Jennie remembered how, only that morning, she had dreamed of dancing just that waltz with Chemmy.

It was odd going to meet Guy in this strangely new and sculptured garden. Even the lake had been cleared of its choking weed and rushes, and a new fishing pavilion gleamed whitely from a small island in the center.

There was a little stand of alders at the far side where she and Guy had once shared their hopes and ambitions for the future. Jennie found a little of her fear and apprehension leaving her as she remembered Guy’s tanned and boyish face and all the happy sunny days of their youth they had spent together. Of course! Guy was simply annoyed she had not invited him to the ball and was playing a prank on her. How
stupid
she had been to be so upset and so frightened. She would tell Chemmy all about it as soon as she saw him and make him laugh.

“Guy,” she whispered, standing in the shadow thrown by the stand of alders. “What game are you playing?” A tall black shadow moved slightly and then Guy materialized in the moonlight.

All Jennie’s fears returned as she stared at his face. Gone was the Guy of her youth. A grim, white-faced Guy stood silently looking down at her, his eyes glittering in a strange way.

“What is this all about?” said Jennie. “Please tell me it was a joke. Please tell me Chemmy is not trying to murder me.”

“Chemmy is not trying to murder you,” said Guy with a grim note in his voice.

“Oh!” cried Jennie feeling faint with relief. “Then why…?”

“I am.”

“What?” breathed Jennie. “You can’t mean…? Oh, Guy what a tease you are.”

“But I am,” said Guy, moving closer to her. “Or rather, I have been trying rather half-heartedly to kill you. Our little friend of Vole Lane was not very successful, although I paid him in full for saying that Chemmy was responsible. Then I was so sure you would break your pretty neck riding. Ah, well. As I said, these weak attempts are over. I am about to dispatch you to your Maker.”

“Why?” said Jennie, although she felt she already knew the answer.

“Money,” said Guy. “That was
my
money, Jennie. I never thought for a minute that the old fool would leave
all
of it to you. I thought he would only leave
some
, and I thought if I ruined you by seducing you, he wouldn’t even leave you any.”

Guy fell silent, studying her face. A series of bright pictures flashed through Jennie’s brain as she seemed to look back on a Jennie now gone forever. She saw herself clasped in Guy’s arms, she saw herself throwing a temper tantrum with her unheeding grandparents, wearing that dreadful wedding gown to make Chemmy angry, holding her breath, sighing for Guy one minute and burning up with jealousy for Alice Waring the next.

The spoiled child that was Jennie vanished, leaving a mature young woman who was determined at all costs to live.

“How shall you kill me?” asked Jennie, wondering that her voice should sound so calm.

“I shall hold your face down in the lake,” said Guy. “When your body is found, they will have to assume that you wandered away from the ball and fell in.”

“Chemmy will never believe that,” scoffed Jennie.