The Reckoning (62 page)

‘
Goodnight, my lady. And – thank you for keeping me on
as your maid, my lady. I'm so grateful, my lady, and I
promise I'll serve you faithfully to the –'

‘
Yes, I'm sure you will,' Rosamund cut her short. 'That's
all right. Go away now, Moss, and snuff the candles as you go
out.’

A few moments later she was alone in the huge bed, with
only her bedside candle flickering away bravely in the
cavernous darkness, waiting for her new-wedded lord.
Despite her weariness, the situation seemed so ludicrous that
she had a strong desire to giggle, which increased incon
veniently when the door opened several miles away at the
other end of the room and a halo of candlelight appeared and
began to move towards her, with a dim white shape behind it.
Marcus in his nightgown! Oh lord, she had never thought of
that! She'd never seen him in his nightgown before, of course,
and the idea of it was causing gusts of embarrassed mirth to
rush up inside her.

Here he was, coming round to the empty side of the bed,
putting down his candle, revealing himself in white night
gown, a dark-red silk dressing-gown draped over his shoul
ders, and a large night-cap with a long tail and tassel hanging
down like a bell-rope, just begging to be pulled. And if I
pulled it, she thought, whimpering inwardly, would his head
swing back and forth and ring like a church-bell? If I pulled it
hard enough, perhaps it might just fall off with a thud and
roll away across the floor like a bowling-ball. She squeezed
her eyes tightly closed and clenched her fists under the covers
in an attempt to keep herself quiet.

‘
Rosamund? Are you awake?' he whispered anxiously.

‘
Yes,' she gasped, but dared not attempt a longer sentence.
She knew he was looking at her, but she couldn't open her
eyes. He would have to go on thinking she was desperately
shy.

There was a rustling sound, and then the mattress moved
as he got into bed beside her. In fact, Marcus didn't think her
desperately shy — he thought her desperately afraid, as his
next words proved.

‘
Don't be frightened,' he said tenderly. He was leaning
over her, and she smelled the sweetness of much wine on his
breath as it brushed her face. His voice sounded different,
too. She supposed that after so many toasts, he must be a
little foxed. 'I know it's all strange for you, but I'll be very
gentle,' he went on. 'And we've all the time in the world. No
need to rush. We'll just take our time.’

Another rustling and heaving interlude, as he stretched
over to put out his candle, and then lay down, and turned on
his side towards her. She waited, but nothing more happened,
no further sounds or movements, only the steady sound of
Marcus breathing beside her. She opened her eyes just a
crack. Her candle was still alight, its dim glow fluttering over
the curtains and canopy above her. Then Marcus made a
small, choking sound, like someone snorting with suppressed
laughter. Glad surprise made her eyes fly open. Did he find
the whole thing irresistibly funny, too? If so, their relationship
might get off to a very good start after all, in this burlesque of
a bed.

She turned her head on the pillow. His fair, handsome
face, flushed of cheek and moist of eyelid like that of a
healthy child, was a few inches from her, and he was fast
asleep. So much for her fears and her struggles! So much for
maiden terrors and old wives' tales! The long day, the
dancing and the wine had acted upon him like a charm. He
had not been laughing, in fact, but snoring.

 
The next day, Lucy, Danby and the boys set off from Upper
Grosvenor Street on their Grand Tour.

‘
The house already seems so quiet without you,' Lucy said
to Rosamund in unusually benign mood, 'that I'm glad we're
going straight away. Now, you understand all the arrange
ments?'

‘
Yes, Mama,' said Rosamund. Beyond her mother's
bedroom window it was a warm and overcast day, almost
airless, and combined with excitements of the day before and
the shortness of the night, it made her feel remote and light
headed.

Lucy was looking about the room as she talked, to be sure
she had left nothing she might need. She was wearing a smart
travelling-dress of smoke-blue trimmed with black silk corded
ribbon, and a small carriage hat perched at a jaunty angle on
her pale curly crop. She had always been a striking dresser. Rosamund's first-day dress of twilled grey sarsenet was her mother's choice, and the awareness of that made Rosamund
realise that she was going to miss her in so many ways. Who would have thought, a few years ago, that that would ever be
the case?

‘
Beguid will settle all the household bills for here and
Wolvercote,' Lucy went on, 'and the servants' wages, of
course. Both houses will be kept staffed, so don't be afraid to
use them. The servants will be better for being given some
thing to do. Just look upon the houses as your own, and use
them whenever and however you wish.'

‘
Yes, Mama,' Rosamund said patiently. This had all been
gone through already.

‘
And if you have any problems that Beguid can't answer, go to Mr Hoare at the bank. He will send on letters to us as
well — oh, unless you want to contact me urgently, in which
case you had better ask Mr Rothschild to send by his courier.

He will always do that as a favour to me, and he will know
where I am. And as to the horses —'

‘
Yes, Mama,' Rosamund said with a small smile. 'I'm sure
you've told Parslow everything that needs to be said about the
horses.’

Lucy stopped and looked at her daughter's face closely. It
was paler than usual, which made the freckles more notice
able. 'Well,' she said hesitantly, 'so you are a married woman
at last.' There were many things she wanted to ask, but she
had no habit of confidence from which to start. Rosamund
was annoyed to feel herself blushing. 'Is everything all right?
You look tired.'

‘
It was a long day yesterday,' Rosamund said defensively,
wishing those keen eyes would stop scanning her face so
searchingly.

‘
Are you happy?' Lucy asked bluntly. 'It was what you
wanted, wasn't it?'

‘It was what I wanted,' Rosamund said.

Lucy looked as though that were not quite answer enough.
'Hmm,' she said thoughtfully. 'Well, I hope it answers. You
are a sensible girl, you will find out for yourself how to
manage things. One word of warning — don't let Lady
Barbara interfere between you and your servants. And if you have any trouble with her, ask the Prince's advice. He's been
managing not to be bothered by people for years.’

Of all her mother's advice, Rosamund thought, that was
the least practical. 'Yes, Mama,' she said, smiling, and on an
impulse reached over to kiss the lean cheek.

Lucy looked surprised and pleased. 'I almost wish you were
coming with us,' she said gruffly, pulling out her handker
chief from her sleeve and pretending to blow her nose. 'Come,
we'd better go down. They'll be waiting for us.’

They were all gathered in the hallway to say their good
byes, with the servants, moist-eyed, hovering in the back
ground.

‘
Goodbye, Papa Danby,' Rosamund whispered in his ear as
she was enfolded in a warm hug. His slim body was as hard as
seasoned leather to her arms, and his fair whiskers tickled her
ear.

‘
I'll miss you, my dear girl,' he murmured in reply, and
then put her back to smile at her fondly. 'I'll bring you back
something from Italy,' he promised.

‘
Just yourselves will be enough.’

There was her brother Thomas, grave and capable, and
Roland, stooping and shy, and – surprising her all over again
– her new-wedded lord shaking them by the hand and giving
them elder-brotherly advice, as to the manner born, and a
purse each for buying little luxuries. That was good of him! In
a dream Rosamund said goodbye to Docwra, who never
missed an opportunity to have a good cry, and exchanged a
friendly nod with Papa Danby's man Bird, looking unfamiliar
in a bran-new gentleman's gentleman's suit, which his ex-
Hussar vanity had had made a little too tight in the leg.

The travellers were going out into the street now, where
the carriage waited for them, a new berlin especially made for
the trip, fitted out with a number of special features and
luxuries of Lord Theakston's own design. At a pinch, failing
an inn, they might all live in this carriage. Four job horses
were poled up, and Rosamund saw Parslow give them a
quick, sharp look-over to be sure they were good enough to
bring his mistress to Dover and the packet. If they had not
been, would he have prevented her from leaving, she
wondered? Still in her dream-like state, she watched him
looking at her mother, and almost felt the sharpening of his
love and anxiety as Lucy went away from him, out of reach of
his care and experience. He had never been parted from her
for more than a few days since he first joined her service, and
he trusted no other driver or horseman to look after her.

But then she turned back. There in the street, in front of
everyone, Lucy, Lady Theakston, turned from the open door
of the carriage and walked back to where Parslow was
standing on the steps, and held out her hand. The world,
Rosamund thought, might well have held its breath. Parslow
seemed to hesitate before taking it, as if he wondered if she
might regret the solecism of the public gesture later; but then
her small, strong hand was engulfed by his large, hard one.

‘
Take care of everything for me. I entrust everything to
you,' she said. Her voice sounded light and clear on the damp, grey air. He bent his head a little to her, as if in submission to her will, but it was only to look at her – she was much smaller
than him.

‘
Yes, my lady,' was all he said. But then Rosamund saw –
or thought she saw – or at any rate afterwards remembered
that she saw – him put his other hand for an instant over her
mother's. Just for an instant the tableau was frozen thus; man
and mistress looked at each other in a moment of perfect
communion, and he said, 'God bless you.’