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She carefully refrained from saying anything about her state of mind, but couldn’t help ending with just one sentence stressing how very glad she would be to see her aunt and that she would be at home whenever her aunt wished to call round.
Then she rang for Susan, who said she would give the letter to one of the footmen to take round immediately. It was on the tip of her tongue to say there was no need for the man to turn out at this time of night, when it occurred to her that it might be better to have the servants falling over themselves to impress her. Better than having them virtually ignore her, the way they’d done at Mayfield, in any event.
She’d regretted uttering that veiled threat about dismissing staff, upon arrival, because in truth she didn’t have the heart to turn a single one of them out, not when she knew only too well what it felt like to get evicted. Particularly not after Mrs Romsey had told her the peculiar nature of their contracts. When there were no tenants her husband’s agent had let them all stay on, for bed and board, rather than go to the inconvenience of laying them all off, only to have to hire a fresh set all over again when the next tenants were due, making each of them regard Durant House as their home.
Eventually they’d realise there was plenty of work for them all, since she meant to restore Durant House to its former glory. They’d probably even realise she was too soft-hearted to carry through on her vague threat of dismissals. But for now, at least, they’d treat her with respect.
So it was with a cool smile that she handed the letter to Susan, then wearily succumbed to the maid’s suggestion she help her get ready for bed.
She was exhausted. The past couple of days had completely drained her. And yet, once Susan had left, Mary lay wide awake in her magnificent bed. The harder she strove to relax, the more her mind ran hither and thither, the same way the shadows flickered over the network of cracks in what had once been ornately decorated plaster. What was he doing, right now? Chatting away happily with his sister, no doubt. Talking about horses and people she didn’t know. He wouldn’t be aching to feel her in his arms, the way she was aching for him. Wishing she could curl into his big warm body. She’d got used to him rolling her into his side and keeping her plastered to him right through the night. As though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting so much as an inch creep between them. It had been bad enough sleeping alone when he’d been just along the corridor.
But it was far worse thinking of him in a different building altogether.
For a moment or two she couldn’t even recall why it had seemed so important to leave him. So what if he did prefer his sister? Couldn’t she have learned to live with that? Couldn’t she have put up with him only visiting her in bed from time to time? At least it would have been preferable to this...this distance she’d created. This vast gulf. A gulf he might never deign to cross, now she’d made such a fool of herself.
The thought that the only person she’d hurt, by writing that list and flouncing off to London, had been herself, was so painful that she curled into a ball and cried herself to sleep.
* * *
She’d always hated the months between Christmas and spring, but this year those months were going to be almost unbearable.
Each day she’d have to drag herself out of bed to face yet another seemingly endless day.
But drag herself out of bed she did. By the time Susan came in with her breakfast next morning, Mary was up and almost dressed. No matter how low she’d felt during the night, she was not going to lay about in bed all day wallowing in misery. She had a home, she had the security she’d always craved, more money than she’d ever dreamed of. And a title, to boot.
There were many people far worse off than her. And it would be downright ungrateful to dismiss all she did have because she was hankering after the one thing she could not have.
Anyway, it was bad enough knowing she’d made a mess of her marriage, without drawing attention to the fact and having people pity her.
It would be far better if nobody could guess, by looking at her, that she felt so dead inside.
In fact, it was a jolly good thing Durant House was such a wreck. Restoring it would be a project that would keep her busy, as well as gain favour from her husband. He’d said he would be for ever in her debt if she could make it more like a home....
She gave herself a mental slap. That was no way to get over him. Planning ways to gain his favour! She ought instead to use this time in London to get used to living without him. It was why she’d come, after all. Without him around, prodding at her bruised heart every five minutes with shows of indifference, it would soon start to heal.
Wouldn’t it?
Yes. The longer she stayed away from her husband, the easier it would become to be his wife. Hadn’t she always suspected that was the only sort of marriage that could work? She certainly hadn’t wanted the kind of clinging, cloying relationship she’d seen destroy her parents. That was what had made her tell him, at the outset, that the only man she might consider marrying would be a sailor, because she’d thought that when a man wasn’t around, he couldn’t hurt his wife.
Well, she knew now that was a load of rubbish. She still hurt, even though she’d created a distance between them. Perhaps even because she’d created a distance between them.
And now she couldn’t help recalling that those sailors’ wives she’d envied so much in her youth for having charge of a man’s income without having to put up with his beastly nature, never had looked as happy as she’d thought they should.
Because they were lonely. Lonely and miserable without the men they loved.
* * *
When Susan came to take away her breakfast tray, she also brought the news that Mary had visitors.
‘Mrs Pargetter. And her daughters. Say they are some sort of relations of yours,’ said Susan as if she wasn’t totally convinced. ‘Mrs Romsey has shown them to the white drawing room.’
‘Oh!’ When she’d sent an invitation to call whenever they liked, she’d never imagined they would come at once.
As if they couldn’t wait to see her again.
Forgetting all her resolutions to behave like a lady and impress the servants, Mary hitched up her skirts and ran along the corridor to the room Mrs Romsey described as white, but which was in reality a patchwork of twenty years’ accumulation of stains.
Her cousins, Dotty and Lotty, were poking rather gingerly at the worn coverings on some spindly-legged chairs that looked as though they’d collapse if anyone sat on them. Her aunt was running her gloved finger along the mantelpiece, with an expression of disgust.
Mary had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
‘Mary, my dear!’ Aunt Pargetter smiled with genuine pleasure. And then executed a clumsy curtsy. ‘I suppose I should address you as my lady now. Old habits die hard.’
‘Oh, no. No, you must never call me anything but Mary,’ she insisted. ‘I don’t feel a bit like a my lady.’
She felt her face crumple.
‘My dear girl, whatever is the matter?’
And Mary, who’d vowed that nobody, but nobody, would ever know what a mess she’d made of what should have been the perfect marriage, let out a wail.
‘I’ve left him!’
Then she flew across the room, flung herself into her aunt’s outstretched arms and burst into tears.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Whatever has gone wrong? Has he been cruel to you?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No. He has been very k-kind.’ How could she have forgotten the way he’d gone to fetch coal during the night, shirtless, just so she wouldn’t get cold? Or the way he’d praised her cooking? And told her she was an angel for putting up with his failings?
‘And g-generous,’ she wailed, suddenly remembering he’d promised her free rein to decorate this house, to buy as many clothes as she liked and not worry about the bills because he’d pay them all.
‘Th-that’s why I f-fell in love with him,’ she sobbed into her aunt’s shoulder.
‘But...so...why have you left him then, if he is so wonderful? And you’ve fallen in love with him?’
‘Because he doesn’t love me,’ she wailed.
‘Of course he does. Why, I’ve never seen a man so smitten. He couldn’t wait to get you to the altar....’
‘It wasn’t because he fell in love with me. It was because he was so sure he wouldn’t! He only wanted to marry me so quickly because of...because of...’
‘What do you mean, sure he wouldn’t?’
‘He wanted a certain sort of wife. A woman who wouldn’t give him a m-moment’s bother. He warned me not to expect affection from marriage. I’m the one who changed my mind about what marriage means to me. I’m the only one who wants more.’
‘Well, if that is true, running away isn’t going to endear him to you,’ said her aunt tartly, though she was still patting Mary’s shoulder in a comforting sort of way. ‘If you don’t believe he can ever love you, you must surely want him to respect you, don’t you? It would have been far better to stay with him and show him what a wonderful wife you can be. That your love needn’t make him uncomfortable.’
‘I know!’ Mary sat up and scrubbed angrily at the tears she couldn’t check. ‘I know that now. Only for a while I completely lost my head. Said things and did things he will never, ever, forgive. I’ve ruined everything!’
While her aunt had been soaking up Mary’s tears, Lotty had poured her a cup of tea and now pressed it into her hands.
‘Here. Drink this. And we’ll help you come up with a plan to win him round.’
Well, if anyone could, Dotty and Lotty could. They were such adept flirts they could probably make a living giving lessons in it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mary, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief Dotty gave her. ‘I can’t think why I’ve become such a watering pot. I’m not usually prone to tears.’
Aunt Pargetter sat bolt upright.
‘Is it possible you are increasing?’
‘What?’
‘Well, every time I have been in the family way, I became a touch unstable. And this sort of behaviour is most unlike you. I always took you for a very sensible, down-to-earth sort of girl.’
‘Increasing...’ Mary laid her hand flat on her stomach, and did a few sums. ‘It...it might be the case. I haven’t...’
Aunt Pargetter nodded sagely. ‘Well, then. That is a sure way to win him round. Every time I got in the family way Leonard was so pleased with me he couldn’t do enough for me. You have only to write and tell your own husband and I’m sure he will come post-haste to your side.’
‘No.’ A cold, sick feeling knotted Mary’s stomach. ‘No, that really would be the end. We agreed, you see, that once I was expecting, he would no longer need to...need to—’ She broke off, blushing fierily. ‘He said that as soon as I gave him an heir, we could go our separate ways.’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘If I am increasing, he won’t think there’s any need to see me again. I’ll never get him back.’
‘Well, then, don’t tell him.’
Mary’s head flew up. ‘But I promised him an heir. Wouldn’t it be dishonest to keep him in the dark about something he finds so important?’
‘Pish,’ said her aunt, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘The man clearly needs to be brought to his senses. And you’re not going to be able to do it unless you can get him here. Unless you would rather go crawling back to him and beg him to love you?’
Since she’d already vowed never to do such a craven, spineless thing, Mary shook her head vehemently.
‘I thought not. But anyway, it won’t be exactly dishonest. It is far too soon for you to be absolutely sure you are increasing. I know I detected more than a hint of uncertainty in your voice when I brought it up.’
‘Yes. I mean, no. I’m not sure...’ Although it was far too early to tell, now that her aunt had mentioned it, it did explain her tendency to weep and her ungovernable bursts of temper. And why she’d been feeling alternately nauseous, or ravenous. And it was better than going on believing she’d become physically ill simply because she’d fallen in love and had no hope of her feelings being returned.
Besides, there was the matter of a missing monthly flow. And her husband had been so very amorous, at least to start with. Hadn’t she always thought how very virile he was? Yes—it must be true. She was going to have a baby.
‘He sets great store by getting an heir, you say?’
Blushing hotly, Mary nodded her head. Then she glanced at Lotty and Dotty, wondering how much she could confide in her aunt, with them listening. Both of them were staring at her, wide-eyed, with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
‘He said that he wanted to get me with child as soon as he possibly could,’ she admitted.
‘Then it’s likely, if you keep him in the dark about your suspicions, that he will have a good excuse to come to town and keep trying.’
Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
‘I can’t... It must seem odd, but somehow I can’t bear the thought of him steeling himself to visit my bed....’
Her cousins giggled.
‘Mary. You are such an innocent.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Hush, girls,’ said her aunt repressively. Then turned to Mary. ‘I do not think it is his feelings about the act that trouble you, but your own. Now that you have fallen in love with him, you shrink from permitting an act that has probably up till recently been only carnal in nature.’
The words struck to her very core. She hadn’t been in love with him that first night, had she? When she’d been so hot for him she’d practically ripped off his shirt.
‘You are right. I want more than just...enjoyment. Is that very selfish of me?’
‘Not in the least. I think most women want much more from their husbands than they ever receive, in emotional terms. Men are just not given to deep feelings.’
‘Then what am I to do? How can I learn to settle for...for the little he is prepared to give?’
Her aunt patted her hand. ‘Perhaps coming to London without him was the best thing you could have done. If he wants a calm, sensible sort of wife, then you can give yourself the time to calm down. And when he does come after you, which believe me, my dear, he will do, then you must show him you can be sensible. Be the kind of wife he wants. And you will regain the respect you believe you have forfeited.’
Mary twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. What Aunt Pargetter was saying was only what she’d thought herself. And what’s more, she did know exactly the sort of wife he wanted. He’d written it all down on that list.
At least, he’d written what he thought he wanted. She’d soon discovered he didn’t really want a modest wife. He enjoyed her eager response to his inventiveness.
The delicate handkerchief ripped.
She could tie herself in knots trying to conform to the things he said he wanted and be totally wasting her time. And anyway, she couldn’t—no, actually, she simply wouldn’t try to be something she was not, just to keep him sweet. She’d watched her mother do that and look where it had got her!
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I am not going to start plotting and planning, and embarking on a campaign to alter the terms of our marriage. After all, I agreed to all those terms, didn’t I? I told him I wanted a practical, loveless marriage. It’s not his fault I went and fell in love with him, is it?’
‘I don’t see how you could have helped it,’ said Dotty. ‘He’s remarkably handsome and was so attentive to you.’
‘And at a time when you must have felt so alone,’ added Lotty.
‘Yes,’ said Dotty indignantly. ‘He practically pounced on you when you were at your most vulnerable.’
Like a predator with a mouse.
But she wasn’t a mouse.
It was heartening to have the girls blame him for everything, the way she’d been doing up till now. But was it fair to say he was a predator and she’d been his victim? Was it even true? She’d just told her aunt she’d agreed to marry him for practical reasons. And at the time, she had seen it as a way to help her aunt and cousins. To help Julia. But had she just used that as an excuse to get close to him? To belong to him?
Oh, lord, she thought, perhaps she had. That was why she’d been so devastated when she’d discovered and read that list. He’d already told her he didn’t want a woman who would be looking for affection within marriage. But it hadn’t really struck home until she’d read it in black and white.
She’d married him under false pretences. Oh, perhaps not deliberately. And she’d been deceiving herself more than him.
‘It’s not his fault,’ she said with resolution. ‘I cannot blame him for being what he is. And sticking to the terms we agreed. I shall...I shall just have to pull myself together.’
‘We’ll help you,’ vowed Dotty.
‘Yes. We’ll keep you so busy you won’t have time to mope over the stupid man.’
And every day she would grow more accustomed to her lot. She would.
‘It looks as though there’s enough for you to do in this house to keep you occupied until well after the baby arrives,’ added her aunt. ‘You did say, in your letter, you needed the names of reliable plumbers, and plasterers, and painters, and upholsterers, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Mary. She was also going to need the name of a doctor she could trust. And a midwife. And she’d certainly have to buy all those clothes she’d used as an excuse to come up to London without him, or she really would look pathetic.
‘Do you know which modiste the most fashionable, wealthiest ladies of the ton patronise? If I’m going to live apart from my husband, there’s no sense in looking as though I mind.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ said her aunt with a smile. ‘Spend his money making yourself all the rage and he’ll soon sit up and take notice.’
Would he?
Well, whether he did, or didn’t, she was going to get on with her life. She was going to start by making Durant House into a comfortable home for herself and her baby. And she had the confidence she could do it, too, with her family, to wit, these women in the room with her right now, on her side.
Yes. By the time Julia was ready to make her come-out, she would have transformed this place.
She didn’t know what had come over her at Mayfield. She didn’t know why she’d got so low she even thought she had nothing to offer Julia. She had something very wonderful to offer Julia. An introduction to these three women. Her warm, witty and wise aunt Pargetter and her bubbly, generous-natured cousins. They might not be out of the top drawer like Lady Peverell, but they had something that lady lacked. They would never look down their noses at Julia and would accept her just as she was, the way they’d accepted Mary. They’d make friends with her. Go shopping with her. Giggle with her over her conquests and give her tons of practical advice about how to charm men.
Not only would she make Durant House the envy of every other society lady, but she was going to ensure that Julia enjoyed every moment of her first Season.
And only married for love.
* * *
Lord Havelock handed his horse over to a young groom he didn’t recognise, wondering where Gilbey had got to. He would have felt better if he could have had a few words with him before he went inside. Found out how Mary was, in a casual sort of manner, without making it obvious he was at his wit’s end.
He glowered up at the gloomy façade of Durant House as he strode across the stable yard to one of the rear doors. He’d sworn he’d never spend another night under its roof, but what else was he to do? Mary was here.
And he couldn’t stay away from her another moment. He’d got to the stage where he’d rather have her rant and rage at him, or even skewer him right through the heart with a hatpin, than spend one more dreary day without the chance of getting so much as a glimpse of her. Or endure one more restless night, reaching out for her after finally succeeding in dozing off, only to jerk wide awake on finding the space at his side cold and empty.
He paused, with his hand on the door latch. He had no more idea now what to say to her, how he could make things right with her, than he’d had the first minute after he’d read her farewell note. He hadn’t come here with a firm plan, but...
Hell, when had he ever made plans? Only the once. And look how that had turned out.
With a sense of impending doom, he pushed open the door and went in.
The corridor was deserted, but he could hear some sort of activity going on towards the front of the house. A strange clattering, rattling sound, interspersed with what sounded like shouts of encouragement. And the smell of paint hung in the air.
No matter what she thought of him, Mary was obviously keeping her word about doing up Durant House. The noises were probably that of workmen, doing something in the hall. It certainly needed it. There couldn’t be a gloomier entrance hall anywhere in town. What had his grandparents been thinking when they agreed to its design?
‘The deuce!’
The words escaped his lips involuntarily as he opened the door from the servants’ quarters and stepped into a space that he barely recognised.
It was the light that struck him first. He looked up, astonished to see there were so many windows.
But before he could register what other changes Mary had made, he saw two little boys go thundering up each of the lower staircases that rose to the gallery. When they got to their respective half landings, they flung themselves down on to what looked like little sleds.
‘Three,’ shouted a footman who was stationed at a midway point of the upper landing. ‘Two! One! Go!’
The boys launched themselves down their staircases with blood-curdling yells. Explaining what the odd clattering, rattling sound had been that he’d been able to hear from the stable yard.
Seconds after they landed on piles of what looked like bundled-up holland covers, money changed hands between his footman and a stranger in brown overalls. They’d clearly been taking bets on which boy would reach the ground first.
‘Strike me down, it’s ’is lordship,’ cried one of the boys—whose face looked vaguely familiar—struggling to free his legs from the swathes of material that had cushioned his landing. He rather thought it was Jem, although the pickpocket looked vastly different with a clean face and wearing the Durant livery.
He thought he recognised the other boy, too. He only had to imagine him coated in flour and he would swear it was the youngest Pargetter.
While he was eyeing the boys with something that felt very much like jealousy—because he’d never seen the grand staircases put to better use and only wished he’d thought of tea-tray races down them when he’d been their age—the footman sprang guiltily apart from the workman and came dashing forward, buttoning up his jacket.
‘May I take your hat, my lord?’ he said, red-faced and perspiring nervously. ‘Your coat?’
He handed them over.
‘Is my wife at home?’
‘Yes, my lord. In the ballroom.’
‘I will take you up myself, my lord,’ put in the butler, who just then came wheezing out of one of the reception rooms. He was swathed in an enormous sacking apron and had cobwebs in his hair. ‘I do apologise for not being here to admit you. I did not hear the door knocker over the noise....’
‘Didn’t use it, since I didn’t come in the front way,’ said Lord Havelock dryly. ‘And I think I can find the way to my own ballroom.’ Indeed, now that the boys weren’t making such a racket, he could hear the sound of piano music echoing down the stairs.
‘Will you be staying here?’ The butler regarded him anxiously.
What the devil was going on? Why shouldn’t he stay here?
‘Where the hell else would I stay?’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord. Only it is not usually your habit to... I mean, that is, not that I would question your movements. Only it won’t be easy to find a room that doesn’t have some kind of workman attending to it. As you can see...’ he waved his hand to encompass the workman in brown overalls ‘...her ladyship has us busy on various projects.’