The Reckoning (100 page)

She told him. He listened gravely, holding her tightly, her
head on his chest, his cheek against her hair. She was his most
precious possession, and not his at all. He loved her so much
he would die to save her the least pain, and yet there was
nothing he could do, nothing, that did not hurt her.

When she stopped he was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘You remember when we were at Hobsbawn House together,
after that Peterloo business? And Fitz was there, too. He came
up to talk to me privately, while I was still in bed.’

She lifted her head to look at him, and touched the scar on
his cheek gently with a fingertip.

‘
He told me then,' he went on, 'that I should stop seeing
you. He said it would only bring you trouble.'

‘Yes, he tried to warn me off, too.’

He gave a shaky smile. 'We both took his advice to heart,
didn't we?’

She ran her hand absently over his chest. 'I couldn't have
parted with you then – or any time. It wasn't what I meant at the beginning – I don't suppose it was what you meant. It all began so lightly. But now – you're the only thing that makes
any sense to me. Being with you is being alive. Everything
else is just a play – and a burlesque at that.'

‘Darling –'

‘
I never meant to do anything like this when I married
Marcus. I meant to be so sensible and long-headed and
unemotional – to make a good marriage, you know, and give
up all thoughts of romantic love. I thought I could live without it. And though I was fond of Marcus, he didn't
trouble me in that way. I'd been a little afraid of what being
in bed with him would be like, but when it came to it, it
wasn't like anything. How can it be so different with two
different people?'

‘
I don't know what it's like with him,' he said with spare
humour.

‘
No,' she said seriously. 'And this, you know – being with
you – it ought to feel like a betrayal of him. I know it is a
betrayal, but it doesn't feel like it. It feels like real life, and
everything else is unreal, a dream. Perhaps that's why –' She
stopped and frowned. He waited. 'Why I can't bear to have
his baby. That would be a betrayal of us.'

‘
Oh my love, Fitz was right, you know. We ought to stop
seeing each other. It can only get worse – harder to bear –’

She sat up suddenly, shaking her hair away as she turned
to look at him.

‘
No,' she said sharply. 'I can't give you up. Don't say it.’

‘
It isn't that I want to –'

‘
Then don't even think it. I must have you. Oh my Jes, my
dear friend, let's not talk about it any more. Let's just enjoy
each other.’

While we can. Neither of them said it, but the words were
there between them; and to drown out the sound of them, she
threw herself down on him and kissed him passionately. He
enfolded her, and they made love again, clinging to each
other like two people drowning.

*

When she reached Chelmsford House again, it was to find the
great hall full of pieces of luggage. Hawkins met her across
them with an odd, warning look, and said, 'Lady Barbara has
just arrived, my lady. She's in the blue saloon. She asked if
you would go up and see her immediately you arrived, my
lady.'

‘
Did she, indeed. Is Miss Morland here, too? I don't see her
luggage.'

‘No, my lady. Her ladyship came up alone.'

‘His lordship is not back yet?'

‘No, my lady.'

‘
Very well, I'll go up,' said Rosamund. She walked up the
stairs wearily, girding herself for some unpleasantness. Lady Barbara would hardly have come all the way up from Wolver
cote unless she meant to upset Rosamund pretty badly. Well,
it couldn't last long, at any rate. Marcus should be back at
any moment, and then she could scrape Lady Barbara off on
him.

She entered the blue saloon, and found Lady Barbara
standing before the hearth, still in her pelisse and hat, glaring
at the door in preparatory rage. Her face was already mottled
red — a bad sign, Rosamund thought — and her congested eyes seemed to bulge slightly.

‘
Well, ma'am,' Rosamund began coolly, but that was as far
as she got.

‘Where have you been?' the dowager demanded furiously.
Rosamund raised a brow. 'I beg your pardon? I don't
think —'

‘
Don't trouble to lie to me, you hussy! I know exactly
where you've been and what you've been doing!' Lady
Barbara raged.

Rosamund's heart sank so fast it made her feel sick. It was as bad as could be. Still she said coldly, 'I wasn't going to lie
to you. I was going to tell you to mind your own business.'

‘
How dare you? How dare you?' Lady Barbara didn't even seem to have heard her. She was so consumed with anger she
walked about, little steps first in one direction, then the other,
mangling her gloves between her hands. 'I would never have believed it, even of you, but now I see that it's all of a piece
with the rest of your behaviour! Oh, you're your mother's
daughter all right! Bad blood! Bad blood always comes out,
yes, and yours is bad on both sides! I told him! I told him not
to marry you. But even so, I never would have thought you
would be so abandoned — so utterly wicked — so shameless!'

‘
I don't know what you're talking about,' Rosamund said.

The bulging eyes came round to her. 'How dare you? How
dare you stand there and say that? Have you no shame? Have
you no proper feeling at all? You've deceived your husband, besmirched our good name, betrayed your marriage bed, and
you stand there, you bold-faced hussy, and give me the lie direct!' She took a step towards Rosamund, and Rosamund forced herself to stand her ground, though she was feeling
more sick every moment. 'I saw you!
I saw you!
Yes, that
takes you aback, doesn't it? You thought you could get away
with your grubby little deceit, sneaking off like a thief to
Kensington — Kensington of all places! You didn't think you'd
be seen there by anyone who knew you. But I was going past
in the carriage as you came out of the door! Yes, my fine lady,
and I saw you getting into a common hackney — you, the
Countess of Chelmsford in a common hackney!
And
I saw a
man waving you goodbye from the door!’

She doesn't know, Rosamund thought, and the relief was
as violent as the previous shock had been. She doesn't know
who. She doesn't even, really, know what — I could have been
going there for any number of reasons. She couldn't think at
that moment of a single one, but it was enough to stiffen her
jaw and her resolve.

‘
What I was doing is my business, and my business alone,' she said in a hard voice, 'and you had better be careful before
you repeat your foul accusations. I've been patient with you
for a long time, ma'am, but my patience is not endless. I will
not be followed about and spied upon, by a woman with no
more conduct than to interfere in what is not her business —!'

‘
Not my business?' Lady Barbara raged. ‘When my own
son's wife —'

‘
Hold your tongue!' Rosamund snapped, losing her temper.
‘I've had enough of you and your nagging and spying and
criticising! You may be able to bully your children, but you
can't bully me, and if you say one word about this to anyone,
I shall have you thrown out of the house — by the scruff of
your neck, if need be! And don't think I wouldn't do it, for I
would!’

No-one had ever spoken thus to Lady Barbara — or indeed
to any other woman of her age and rank — and it silenced her,
only because her rage was too great to allow of articulation.
Her face darkened, her eyes bulged alarmingly, her hands
lifted a little and drew up into claws, and a gobbling noise
came from her part-open mouth. Knowing it was the only
way she would ever get the last word, Rosamund took advan
tage of her mother-in-law's paralysis of rage to get out of the
room, slamming the door behind her.

Then she ran, blindly, to the haven of her chamber. She sat
down on her bed, clenching her hands between her knees,
staring sightlessly before her, waiting for her pounding heart
to slow down. The hollowness of shock filled her chest, her stomach knotted with nausea. Oh God, what a scene, what a frightful scene! And what more was to come? It might have
got her out of the room, but her threat would not stop Lady
Barbara from repeating everything to Marcus when he came
in, and whether he believed it all or not, he was going to ask
her what She had been doing in Kensington. What could she
say? What excuse could she think up? She could say she had
not been there, that Lady Barbara was mistaken – that might
be the easiest thing – but whatever happened, she was going
to have to lie to him, and she had never had to do that before.
It was bad, it felt bad. She didn't want to do it, to look him
straight in the eyes and lie to him. Yet, she sneered at herself,
how was that any worse than what she had already done to
him? Oh God, it was all as bad as it could be – and it was all
Lady Barbara's fault. That wicked, evil, spying, prying old
witch! How she hated her! How she would like to claw her to
bits! If it hadn't been for her, her marriage with Marcus
might have been all right – right enough for her never to have
needed Jes at all. But Marcus would never blame his mother –of course not! It was Rosamund who was going to be branded
the wicked one.

She lifted her head, listening. He was back already! She
heard the voices, muffled, from the hall. She strained her
ears, staring sightlessly ahead of her, trying to track his move
ments. Well, she must face up to the trouble now, whatever it
was. On the bedside table, lying beside her book, was the
silver horseshoe that Parslow had given her for luck on her
wedding day. She had carried it with her all the time, until
she began her affair with Jes. After that, she had left it at
home, here, beside her bed, for some superstitious reason she
had never analysed. What would Parslow say if he knew?
Perhaps he did know. Parslow always knew everything. And if
Marcus repudiated her, everyone would know. What would
her mother say? She clenched her fists, waiting for the storm
to break.