Chapter 13

Clara had been intending to take a short drive with Harriet since Freddie had not mentioned any outing for the day. But their plans were disrupted by the unexpected arrival of visitors. Unexpected, because the only people who had called on her since she had come to London were Mr. and Mrs. Whitehead. Freddie had made no attempt to enlarge her circle of acquaintances, perhaps because he thought her crippled state would make it difficult for her to visit or to attend social functions.

She was surprised and a little disconcerted when she discovered who the callers were. She had liked Camilla Wilkes the evening before. But she did not particularly wish to see the Countess of Beaconswood again. There had been too much pain during the night and morning. But she smiled graciously. There was something to be said for having visitors at all.

The Countess of Beaconswood was even more lovely than she had appeared the night before, Clara thought with a sinking of the heart. She was wearing a dark blue velvet carriage dress and pelisse. Her face was not only very pretty but sparkling with animation too today. Her short dark hair was curlier than Clara’s own. Clara scarcely noticed Camilla.

“You look different,” the countess said after greetings had been exchanged and Harriet had been presented. She sat down and set her head to one side, studying her hostess.

“I had my hair cut off this morning, my lady,” Clara said, flushing. She still felt bald.

The countess went off into peals of laughter. “I almost looked over my shoulder,” she said. “I am still not used to being the possessor of such a grand title. I believe I shall have to start wearing a purple satin turban and carrying a lorgnette. You must call me Julia, please, Clara. We are cousins by marriage, after all. Your hair does look lovely. The style suits you. Does it not, Camilla?”

Camilla smiled with quiet charm. “It must have been a dreadful feeling to have all that length cut off,” she said. “It must have taken many years to grow it so long. But yes, this is very becoming. You do not regret being so rash, Clara?”

“No,” Clara said. “But it does make me nervous to be such a focus of attention.”

“Ah, the weather, then,” the countess said with a light laugh. “It is an obligatory topic. Who wishes to begin?”

Clara found herself relaxing with unexpected speed. Freddie’s cousins were very different from each other, but they were equally charming and unaffected in manner. They were treating her as family rather than as a newly made acquaintance, she thought, nodding at Harriet to ring for tea. Even Julia. Whatever her feelings were for Freddie, at least she was making an effort to be civil to his wife.

“You will be coming, of course, Clara,” Camilla said when the conversation moved inevitably to her approaching wedding. “You will persuade Freddie that he must? It is time that small rift was healed.”

Clara glanced at the countess, who was looking down at her hands in her lap, the animation gone from her face for the moment. She looked up and caught Clara’s eye.

“Freddie had not mentioned me to you,” she said. “What did he tell you about me last night or this morning? Anything?”

Clara hesitated. “Only that he had offered for you earlier this year but you had married the earl instead,” she said.

“Ah,” the countess said, her lips moving into what might have been intended to be a smile. She glanced at Camilla. “We decided that we should tell you everything, did we not, Camilla? We both suspected last night that you must have noticed a slightly strained atmosphere, and we both agreed that Freddie would probably not tell you the whole story. But you are our cousin now and we wish you to be our friend. Don’t we, Camilla?” Her voice had gained brightness as she spoke.

“Yes,” Camilla said smiling, “we want you as a friend, Clara. It was very naughty of Freddie to marry you in such secrecy without inviting any of the family.”

“Lord and Lady Bellamy were there,” Clara said. “And Lesley.”

“Oh, dear Les,” the countess said. “I will not ask you if you loved him, Clara. No one could not love Les. I am so glad he went to Italy. It was his great dream. But I am procrastinating. My grandfather died in the spring, Clara—and forbade us to wear mourning, if you wonder why none of use are wearing black. He was not my grandfather actually. He was my stepmother’s father, but he had brought me up as his own after my father’s death and my stepmother’s. But when he died I was in an awkward position. I had no claim to any of his property or fortune, you see. Although he had taken care of me very well as it turned out, it seemed at the time that I was to be destitute. Everyone rallied around, offering me a home. Everyone was very sweet.”

Clara smiled. She remembered the dreadful feeling of loneliness that had followed her father’s death. And yet she had not also had to contend with the fear of destitution.

“Well, you were our cousin, Julia,” Camilla said. “Of course we were not going to turn you out.”

The countess flashed her a smile. “Anyway,” she said, glancing down at her hands before looking up directly at Clara again, “the male cousins started offering me marriage. Was not that the most foolish and endearing thing you have heard in your life? Lesley asked me and Gussie—you have not met Gussie, have you?—and Freddie. And Daniel, of course. It was excessively kind of them all. But of course I could marry only one. I chose Daniel. He made me a wedding present of Primrose Park. Can you believe that?”

Clara smiled again. Julia had married the wealthiest of them. It was understandable when she had nothing herself. She had reached out for the greatest security.

“We believe Freddie was embarrassed,” Camilla said. “He left Primrose Park directly after the betrothal was announced and did not stay as the rest of us did for the wedding. I suppose it would be embarrassing to attend the wedding of the woman you had offered for yourself, would it not?”

“Yes,” Clara said. “I suppose it would.” And yet Lesley and the cousin they called Gussie seemed to have overcome their embarrassment and stayed. And why should something done purely out of kindness cause embarrassment?

“Not hurt,” the countess said quickly, her eyes bright, a glow of color in her cheeks. “We do not believe he was hurt, Clara. He would have had to be in love with me or something foolish like that to have been hurt, would he not? Freddie and I were always pals, partners in mischief and crime. I was a dreadful hoyden when I was growing up, and still am sometimes. I think Daniel is always afraid when we are in the park that I am going to suddenly start climbing trees and throwing acorns down on passers-by.” She laughed merrily. Too merrily. Her manner was too bright.

It was a story they had decided together to tell her. It seemed almost rehearsed. They were both smiling. It was she they were trying to protect from hurt, Clara realized with a rush of gratitude. They were afraid she had divined the truth the night before, and had felt sorry for her. And so they had come to discover what Freddie had told her and to tell her a plausible story if it turned out that he had not himself told her the full truth. She had a part to play now just as they did.

“I am glad everything turned out well for you, Julia,” she said. “It must be wonderful to belong to such a close and loving family.” Her smile matched theirs.

“Oh, it is,” the countess said in a rush.

“As you will discover for yourself,” Camilla said. “My mother wanted to come with us to call, but we wished to talk to you about this ridiculous awkwardness with Freddie so we made an excuse. But you must come and call on us. Are you able to get about?” She smiled up at Harriet, who was pouring the tea and handing around the cups and saucers. “Thank you, Harriet.” 

“Freddie carries me to places where my wheeled chair will not go,” Clara said. “I also have a servant I employed for just that task before my marriage.”

“And so,” the countess said, sipping on her tea and smiling brightly, “you met Freddie in Bath, married him after a whirlwind courtship, and are living happily ever after. It all sounds very romantic.”

They knew, Clara thought. Of course they knew. They had both been well acquainted with Freddie from infancy. They pitied her and had come to befriend her. And yet Julia must be aching with jealousy too. Her smile was brittle. This visit must be very difficult for her. And she was so very lovely.

How was she to answer? Join in the charade, which they all knew to be ridiculous? Offer some explanation that was a little closer to the truth? Say nothing?

She was saved from her dilemma—if saved was the right word—by the opening of the drawing room door and the appearance of Freddie. Looking as cheerful and hearty as her visitors. Greeting them and Harriet with practiced ease. Crossing the room to her and setting a hand on her shoulder and caressing her jaw with the backs of his fingers.

“Hello, my love,” he said.

Her heart plummeted. If she had wanted any further proof that she had heard nothing approaching the true story of what had happened earlier in the spring between Freddie and Julia—not that she needed further proof—it was there in his greeting.

“Hello, Freddie,” she said. She wanted to turn her face in against his hand and bawl her heart out. “Did you have a pleasant ride?”

He accepted a cup of tea from Harriet and they all sat and conversed for ten minutes longer with great amiability. Harriet was perhaps the only one of them who allowed her smile to slip even for a moment. Yet Clara would have sworn at the end of the visit that Julia and her husband had not once allowed their eyes to meet. And she had the fanciful notion that if only she could have got to her feet, a sharp knife in her hand, she would have been able to cut the air between the two of them. It was thick with tension.

All because Freddie had been embarrassed at being one of the three cousins to have offered for Julia and been rejected? Clara wished it could have been just that. How she wished it. But unfortunately, she had not been born yesterday.

The ladies finally rose to leave and Freddie rose with them. They both bent over Clara’s chair to kiss her cheek and beg her to call on them. Freddie was waiting to accompany them downstairs, but at the last moment Camilla turned back.

“Perhaps you will join us for an afternoon drive one day when the weather is suitable, Clara,” she said. “I would like it of all things, and I know Mama and Julia would too. I can make sure that the carriage is warm for you with a heavy robe to cover your lap.”

Clara laughed. “I am not an invalid,” she said, “although I cannot walk. Freddie insists that I take a drive in an open carriage every day except when it is actually raining. But, yes, I would love to drive out with you, Camilla. Thank you.”

“You must call on Mama first, then,” Camilla said. “Perhaps within the next day or two? We can make further arrangements then. Oh, it is such a novelty to have a new cousin. The rest of us have intermarried, Daniel with Julia, me with Malcolm, though that is not as unhealthy as it may sound. Actually, there is no blood relationship within either couple. But I am not going to launch into an explanation of that now.” She laughed softly.

They talked for a minute or two longer before Camilla left. Clara was very aware that the other two had proceeded on their way when Camilla had turned back.

She smiled brightly at Harriet.

There was a feeling of near panic when he realized that Camilla had not followed them from the room but had turned back to say something else to Clara. Jule would not take his arm to walk downstairs, though he offered it.

“I told you at the time that I would never forgive you, Freddie,” she said quietly, her voice shaking with emotion. “I have not and I will not. I hate you.”

“I don’t blame you, Jule,” he said. “I am only sorry that we had to run into each other like this. I shall do my best to stay out of your way. I shall take Clara back to Ebury Court.”

“Oh, no, you won’t,” she said vehemently. “We want her here for Camilla’s wedding. We want to make her welcome in the family. How could you do it, Freddie? Poor Clara.”

He swallowed. “I don’t think my marriage is any of your concern, Jule,” he said.

But that had never stopped Jule, of course. “She is very wealthy,” she said. “Perhaps the wealthiest woman in England, according to Daniel. She is also a person, Freddie. She is sweet and gentle. Have you even bothered to discover that?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I suppose you rushed with great glee to pay off your debts,” she said. “And rushed even faster and more gleefully to run up new and even higher ones. I suppose you did. You could not change even if you wanted to, Freddie. But I’ll never forgive you for this. Never. And don’t you dare take her back to the country. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare.”

They were standing facing each other at the foot of the stairs. She was almost hissing at him.

“I will have to consult my wife’s wishes,” he said. 

“Oh,” She looked at him with utter contempt. “Is that supposed to impress me, Freddie? Since when did you consult anyone’s wishes except your own? I like her. And it is not just pity because she is crippled and because she is not quite the beauty one might have expected you to wed. Or because she was deceived into marriage by a rake and a wastrel. I like her for herself and I want to be her friend. I am going to be her friend. And if you take her back to the country, I shall get Daniel to take me there too.”

“That would be very uncomfortable for three of us,” he said. “Listen, Jule. I can’t change the past. I wish I could. And I cannot do more than apologize for what happened. I wish I could.” He tried smiling at her. “Can’t we at least call a truce?”

“Don’t try using those bedroom eyes on me, Freddie,” she said. “And, no, I hate you. I escaped from you and am happier with Daniel than I could have ever dreamed of being with anyone. But Clara did not escape. I’ll never forgive you for rushing straight from me to her, when you were supposed to be so sorry for what you had done, and for achieving instant success with someone who did not know you. I suppose she fell in love with you. It would be strange if she did not, since all other women seem to crumble before your charm. Is her heart quite broken yet? Or does it take a little longer for hope to die and a heart to break?”

“Jule.” He was becoming angry. “You are out of line. My marriage is none of your business.”

She would have argued further. Being Jule, she would have ploughed in where she did not belong, tongue wagging, both fists flying. But Camilla was at the top of the stairs and coming down and smiling with her usual calm sweetness and apologizing for keeping them waiting.

“Freddie,” she said, taking his hands and stretching up to kiss him on the cheek, “Clara is quite delightful. I am very happy for you. She is to call on Mama within the next day or two. Will you bring her?”

“I’ll have to see,” he said vaguely, squeezing her hands. Camilla at least was willing to give him a second chance, to give him the benefit of what he admitted must seem a very large doubt. “Thank you for calling. I know it will mean a great deal to Clara.”

And they were gone, Jule without another word or look. The trouble was, he thought, staring at the front door after it had closed behind them, he could not even fan his anger with righteous indignation. She was so damned right about him. About everything. Except for the fact that he did know that Clara was sweet and gentle. And he did care for her.

You could not change if you wanted to, Freddie. He paused with one foot on the bottom stair. He winced. But she was wrong about that, too. She was wrong about a lot of things. She thought she knew him, but she did not really.

The park was almost deserted. Anyone seeing them there in an open barouche on such a chilly, blustery day would have thought them mad, Clara thought. But they were dressed warmly, and she did not really care what anyone might think. She had years’ worth of fresh air to catch up on and loved the feel of cold air against her face and the knowledge that her complexion was probably gleaming as red as a ripe apple.

She was beginning to feel more than just not an invalid. She was beginning to feel healthy. She was beginning to feel that she had energy—physical energy—to spare. Under cover of her heavy laprobe she flexed her feet at the ankles secretly and experimentally, and even succeeded in drawing them inward, a little closer to the seat. It felt like a major victory.

Frederick took her gloved hand in his. They were alone, Harriet having excused herself from joining them on their late-afternoon drive. They had been silent for a few minutes, since running out of trivialities to talk about.

“Well,” he asked her, his tone just a little too casual, “have you enjoyed making the acquaintance of new cousins, Clara?”

“Yes,” she said. “It is very exciting when one has no family of one’s own.”

She knew him well enough to recognize the tension in both his body and his voice.

“Camilla and Jule had arrived only just before me?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “They had been there for a while.”

“Ah,” he said. She could have asked the question for him, but she waited for him to ask it. “What did they have to say?”

“They liked my hair,” she said, laughing and wishing they could turn back from this course they were taking. She wished there were not this terrible mystery. She wished she could treat it with unconcern. “We talked about the weather and about last night’s play and about Bath and about Camilia’s wedding.” She paused. “And about what happened at Primrose Park earlier this year.”

“Ah,” he said.

She could not help him. Would he tell her the rest? Did she want to hear it? She wished she could just put it all from her mind and forget about it.

“Did they tell you everything?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Ah.” There was another silence while he lifted her laprobe, placed her hand beneath it, and covered it up. Now they were not touching at all. “You always did know me for the blackguard I am, Clara. Now any last doubts you may have had have been put to rest. You must despise me heartily.”

For running from the woman he loved and charming into marriage a wealthy, crippled, ugly, and lonely spinster? She had not heard the full story from anyone, and she was not going to ask. She was not at all sure she wanted the full truth. Had Freddie and Julia been lovers? It seemed altogether possible in light of the very strong tensions between them. She did not know the truth. Perhaps she was completely misinterpreting everything that she had heard and observed. Perhaps Camilla and Julia had told the full truth after all. But she did not think so. And she thought that her interpretation must be the right one. Everything fit.

Frederick laughed rather harshly. “The incurably honest Clara,” he said. “You do not like to lie and so you say nothing.”

“You are my husband, Freddie,” she said.

“To be meekly honored and obeyed,” he said. “You are good at those things, are you not, Clara? It would not fit your notion of a good wife to tell me that you despise me. Well, I know that you do. And if you do not, you should. Someone called me a rake and a wastrel very recently. Both terms are quite accurate.”

She did not want to hear this. She did not want the fragile peace between them destroyed. She had so little. She did not want to lose even the little she had. If he continued in this vein, there would be too much in the open between them. There would be no possibility of holding together a viable marriage.

“Freddie,” she said, “you are my husband. That is all that matters to me.”

“Your property and fortune are not in trust, are they?” he said. “I worked that out for myself some time ago, Clara. You just did not want me to get my hands on all your wealth. You were very wise. Almost the whole of your very generous dowry has gone already in the expected way. My own income will doubtless go the same road. But don’t worry. I can’t get my hands on your fortune, can I? And I would not take any of it if you were to offer it. Would you, Clara? Like the dutiful wife you are? That is why I married you after all, isn’t it? You can come and visit me in debtors’ prison some day. Have Robin carry you in there.”

“Freddie, please don’t.” But it was too late already. Everything was ruined.

“I have been unfaithful to you with a dozen women since our marriage,” he said. “More. But then you knew that, didn’t you, Clara? You knew when you married me that I was a rake. And you knew that a woman never reforms a man after marriage. You have been wise enough never to have tried.”

God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. She bit her lip and stared fixedly ahead.

“I suppose you have partly blamed yourself,” he said. “I believe that is usual with virtuous women. You have blamed yourself because you are crippled and because you perceive yourself as ugly. If only you could walk and were beautiful you could hold my love and fidelity and keep my feet on the straight and narrow. So you think. Do yourself a favor, Clara. Learn to hate me. I am worthy of nothing better.”

“Take me home,” she said.

“Archie and I are a well-suited pair, aren’t we?” he said. “I gather he offered your virtuous companion carte blanche last evening and was rejected. She has more sense than you had, Clara.”

“I shall go back to Ebury Court tomorrow,” she said.

“It is a shame,” he said, “that you cannot obtain a bill of divorcement for simple adultery, is it not? You would have me cold, Clara.”

She closed her eyes and willed them to be home soon. They had left the park behind them several minutes before.

“You must wish,” he said, “that you could open those eyes and find yourself back in Bath, the last few months all a bad dream.”

“Yes,” she said.

He laughed. “You must blame yet another weakness in my character,” he said. “If only I had been a little firmer of purpose, Jule would have married me and you would have been saved, Clara. You would never have met me. But I was not firm of purpose at all. I let her get away, and she married Dan.”

Oh, God. Oh, God.

The barouche stopped in front of their house at last. Frederick jumped out and reached for her. His face was set into a cynical, devil-may-care type of half smile. Clara stared straight ahead again after one glance at it.

“I want Robin to carry me inside,” she said.

Frederick made an impatient sound, grabbed her none too gently, and slid her across the seat toward him, preparatory to picking her up.

She spoke with icy distinctness. “I want Robin to carry me inside.”

There was a pause before his hands left her and he turned without another word to enter the house. Robin appeared within a minute and carried her up to her private apartments. She did not see her husband again before leaving for Ebury Court with Harriet early the following morning.