April Lady Read online

  ‘Whenever you wish,’ Nell replied. ‘Now, if you desire me to.’

  ‘Oh, no, there is no occasion for you to do so now! He is gone to visit his uncle, you know, and he did not expect to be in London again until tomorrow evening. I was thinking, love, that if we were to go to Almack’s on Friday I daresay we should meet him there, and then, don’t you think? we could discover when it would be convenient for him to come to us.’

  It was evident, from this speech, that an assignation at Almack’s had already been made. Nell did not feel equal to giving a promise that she would attend the Assembly, but she said that she would do so if she felt well enough, and with this Letty, after a little more coaxing, was obliged to be content. In the state of wretchedness she was in Nell could not think of taking part in such a frivolous entertainment without a shudder, but she did manage to extract a grain of comfort from the reflection that the first fury of Letty’s passionate despair had worn itself out, and she was not contemplating any immediate act of imprudence.

  The more compliant mood lasted. Letty was able to see Cardross again without ripping up; and although her spirits were languid, and her manner lacked its usual liveliness, there could be no doubt that she was making a serious endeavour to mend her temper.

  The hope that Dysart would come to her kept Nell at home on the following day. Cardross was to have escorted both his ladies to a Review in Hyde Park, but in the end only Letty went with him. She had said at first that she was in no humour for it, but upon Nell’s appealing to her to bear Cardross company so that she herself might nurse a headache at home she at once agreed to go. She was too much absorbed in her own troubles to perceive that her sister-in-law was looking far from well until her attention was directed to this circumstance, but when Sutton told her that she was quite in a worry over her mistress, she was instantly ready not only to do what was asked of her, but a great deal that was not asked, such as placing cushions behind Nell’s head, a stool under her feet, and a shawl across her knees, bathing her brow with vinegar, offering her all manner of remedies from hartshorn to camphor, and enquiring every few minutes if she felt a degree better. Nell endured these ministrations patiently, but Cardross, coming to see how she did, exclaimed: ‘Good God, Letty, don’t fidget her so! Enough to drive her into a fever!’

  Letty was inclined to take affront at this, but he pushed her out of the room without compunction, telling her to go and put her hat on, since his curricle would be at the door in five minutes. ‘And if you want me to let you handle the ribbons, take that pout from your face!’ he recommended. He turned, and went back to Nell’s chair, and held her wrist in his hand for a moment. Under his fingers her pulse was flurried enough to make him say: ‘If you are not better by the time we return I’ll send for Baillie.’

  ‘Oh, no, pray do not! Indeed I am not ill! Only I still have the headache, and it seems foolish to go out in this hot sun,’ she replied quickly. ‘I shall be perfectly well presently.’

  ‘I hope you may be,’ he said, laying her hand down again. He glanced at Sutton. ‘Take care of her ladyship!’

  An extremely dignified curtsey was all the answer vouchsafed to his behest. From the dresser’s downcast eyes and lifted brows he might have inferred that she was deeply offended, but he did not look at her again. His gaze had returned to his wife’s face; his expression seemed to her to soften; and after hesitating for a moment he bent over her, and lightly kissed her cheek. ‘Poor Nell!’ he said.

  He was gone before she could say a word, leaving her with an almost overpowering inclination to cry her heart out. She managed to overcome it, and to assure Sutton, with very tolerable composure, that she was already better, and needed nothing to restore her to her usual health but to be left to rest quietly for an hour or so. She believed that she might fall asleep if no one came to disturb her.

  It would have been well for her had she done so, but sleep had never been farther from her. She tried to interest herself in a new novel, and discovered that she had read three pages without taking in the sense of one word; every vehicle heard approaching in the square below brought her to her feet and hurrying to the window; and when she took up her embroidery, determined to employ herself rather than to pace about the room, a prey to most harrowing reflections, she found that her hands were so unsteady as to make it impossible for her to set a stitch.

  Dysart did not come, and so severe was her disappointment that it took all the resolution of which she was capable to enable her to meet Cardross upon his return with a calm countenance. Her training stood her in good stead: no one could have supposed from her demeanour that her brain was in a turmoil; and when it was suggested to her that she might prefer not to go to the Italian Opera that evening she laughed away this solicitude, telling her husband and sister-in-law that they must not try to wrap her in cotton.

  Dysart walked in on her, unannounced, just before noon on the following morning. She was sitting with Letty in the drawing-room, endeavouring to soothe feelings very much ruffled by a visit from Miss Berry. The good lady had called a little earlier to enquire after her state of health, but upon Letty’s coming into the room had speedily infuriated that injured damsel by entering with great earnestness into a discussion of her affairs. What she said held excellent common sense, and did honour to her heart as much as to her judgement, but her manner was unfortunate. A trick she had of repeating over and over again some catch-phrase could only irritate; she had a way of talking in a hurried, over-emphatic style; and the caresses and exaggerated terms of affection she employed in trying to win more confidence than was voluntarily reposed in her served only to set up Letty’s back. She had not long left the house when Dysart entered it; and when he walked into the drawing-room the angry flush had not faded from Letty’s cheeks.

  ‘Dysart!’ Nell cried, springing up from her chair.

  ‘Hallo, Nell!’ he responded, with cheerful nonchalance. ‘I hoped I should find you at home.’ He looked critically at Letty, and enquired in a brotherly fashion: ‘What’s put you in a miff?’

  ‘If nothing else had you would!’ retorted Letty, with spirit, but a distressing want of civility. ‘No doubt, dearest Nell, you would like to be private with your detestable brother! I would as lief converse with the muffin-man, so I will go and sit in the library until he has gone away again!’

  ‘Well, if ever I saw such a spitfire!’ remarked the Viscount, mildly surprised. ‘What have I done to set you up on the high ropes?’

  Deigning no other answer than a withering look of scorn, Letty swept out of the room with her head in the air. He shut the door behind her, saying: ‘Too hot at hand by half!’

  ‘Oh, Dy, thank God you are here at last!’ Nell uttered, with suppressed agitation. ‘I have been in such distress – such agony of mind!’

  ‘Lord, you’re as bad as that silly chit!’ said Dysart, diving a hand into his pocket, and bringing forth a roll of bank-notes. ‘There you are, you goose! Didn’t I promise you I wouldn’t make a mull of it this time?’

  She would not take the roll, almost recoiling from it, and crying with bitter reproach: ‘How could you? Oh, Dy, Dy, what have you done? You cannot have supposed that I would accept money obtained in such a way!’

  ‘I might have known it!’ ejaculated Dysart disgustedly. ‘In fact, I did know it, and I took dashed good care not to tell you what I meant to do! When it comes to flying into distempered freaks, damme if there’s a penny to choose between you and Mama!’

  ‘Distempered freaks!’ she repeated, gazing at him in dismay. ‘You call it that? Oh, Dysart!’

  ‘Yes, I dashed well do call it that!’ replied his lordship, his eye kindling. ‘And let me tell you, my girl, that these Methody airs don’t become you! Besides, it’s all slum! I may have to listen to that sort of flummery from Mama, but I’ll be damned if I will from you! What’s more, it’s coming it a trifle too strong! Let me tell you, my pio