Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife (16 page)

They arrived at Portman House in Berkeley Square soon after noon the following day and almost immediately Harry went out again. ‘Business, I am afraid,’ he told Rosamund, handing her a pile of invitations. ‘Go through these while I am gone and decide which you
would like to attend. When I come back we will answer them together and talk about our own ball.’

There were so many invitations, routs, balls, picnics, concerts, all with a coronation theme, that Rosamund had no idea which they ought to attend. She knew hardly any of the senders, most of whom were aristocrats from the upper echelons of society and until her marriage would have been way above her touch. She decided to leave them until Harry came back and instead went to explore the house, which she had never been in before.

It was a solidly built house in the middle of a row on the western side of the Square, with a kitchen below ground level and steps up to the front door with a lamp above the middle and extinguishers for the linkmen’s torches at shoulder height on each side. Inside on the ground floor there was an anteroom and two large drawing rooms, which could be opened up into one large room for entertaining. On the floor above was a dining room and a library and a small parlour and above these the bedrooms and dressing rooms. All the servants except Mrs Crossley, the cook-housekeeper, slept in the attics from where a separate staircase took them down to the kitchens. Mrs Crossley had her own room on the same floor as the kitchen, as did James, the butler.

It was all tastefully decorated and furnished in the French style, but it was perhaps too perfect and, unlike the comfortable untidiness of Bishop’s Court, did not feel lived in, which told her Harry only used it as a place to sleep when he was in town.

Her tour finished, she went to talk to Mrs Crossley
about holding a ball. The cook was enormously fat, due perhaps to too frequent sampling of the fruits of her labour. She wore a vast grey cotton gown and an even vaster apron. On her greying hair was a frilly white cap tied under her chin with a ribbon. She received the news that there was to be a ball with enthusiasm and was soon amusing Rosamund with tales of the entertainments Lord Portman’s mother used to arrange.

‘What about his lordship’s first wife?’ Rosamund asked, when at last the woman drew breath. ‘Did she entertain?’

‘No, my lady. They were no sooner married than she began increasing. Not that you would have known in the beginning. She was such a little slip of a thing, not yet seventeen when they married, and it did not show at first. She was so well, no one could have foretold the trouble she would have giving birth. That was terrible. Her screams filled the whole house. They lived here then, his lordship not having succeeded to Bishop’s Court. She shrieked on and on for her mother and cursed her husband, yelling that God would punish him for what he had done to her. The handywoman and the doctor both tried to quieten her, but she was past listening to them.’

‘How dreadful,’ Rosamund murmured.

‘I don’t know how they got the infant out of her, but she was dead soon afterwards. His lordship was distraught. He would not look at the child, let alone touch her, and did not speak to anyone for days.’ She paused. ‘Mayhap I should not have told you.’

It was one more item to be added to those she had already learned about her complex and enigmatic
husband and it explained a great deal. He had loved his first wife and she had died cursing him. There was a mountain to climb if she were going to help him overcome that. ‘I am glad you did, Mrs Crossley,’ she said. ‘But I will not tell his lordship you told me.’

They were interrupted by a footman who came to tell Rosamund that Mrs Bullivant had called. Wondering how her aunt knew she was in town, she made herself put the cook’s revelations to one side, gave orders for the tea tray to be prepared and hurried to the front drawing room, where the lady was busy inspecting the pictures and ornaments.

‘Aunt Jessica, how are you?’ She went forwards and kissed the old lady’s rouged cheek. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Word gets about. Servants talk to each other, you know. Your cook told my cook and she told Miss Davies, who told me.’ She stepped back to look her niece up and down. The petticoat she was wearing under her blue silk open gown was only lightly padded and her figure was as slim as ever. ‘Not increasing, Rosamund?’

‘Not yet.’

‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing that I know of.’

‘Well, it can’t be his lordship.’ She sat on the sofa, her wide skirts billowing round her. ‘He already has a daughter.’

‘There is time.’ She remembered saying the same thing to Max and wondered how many other people would be blunt enough to ask.

‘Have you met the child?’ her aunt went on. ‘I am
told Portman will not have her to live with him. Is there something wrong with her?’

‘There is nothing at all wrong with Annabelle,’ she said firmly. ‘She is living with us at Bishop’s Court now. She is a delightful child and already I love her dearly.’

‘Hmph,’ the old lady said. ‘Not the same as having your own, though is it?’

She was saved answering by the arrival of a maid with the tea things and a plate of cakes. Rosamund busied herself with these and there was silence between them for perhaps a minute, then her aunt took up the conversation again.

‘Well, I am glad you have come to town. It is about time the
haut monde
saw you as Lady Portman.’

‘Of course I am Lady Portman. Whatever do you mean?’

‘Francis Portman has been putting it about that all is not well between you and his lordship. He says his lordship cannot stand the sight of you, which is why he is so often in town alone. According to Portman, he belongs to some drinking and gaming club called The Piccadilly Gentlemen. They are up to all manner of rigs, so I am told.’

Rosamund was shocked, but endeavoured to treat the gossip lightly. ‘Oh, Aunt, I cannot believe that.’

‘It is true. He told Maximilian and Maximilian told me.’

‘Francis Portman is a troublemaker and Max is not much better,’ she said firmly. ‘They both sponge on Harry’s generosity and then disparage him behind his back. I do not believe a word of it and I am surprised at you repeating it.’

‘I am only telling you what is being said. You must get Portman to escort you out more. Oh, I know it is not often done for husbands and wives to live in each other’s pockets, but if you want to survive as Portman’s wife, you must assert yourself and bring him to heel.’

‘Aunt, you need have no fears on that score and you will oblige me by informing anyone else who has nothing better to do than gossip that there is nothing amiss with our marriage.’

‘Then why are you not increasing?’

‘Give us time, Aunt. We are neither of us in the first bloom of youth.’

‘I am only thinking of your good.’

‘I know.’ She put on a brave smile and handed her aunt a cup of tea. ‘If it makes you feel better, I can tell you we are going to hold a coronation ball here at Portman House. That should silence the critics.’

‘Oh, wonderful!’ The old lady clapped her hands. ‘Tell me all about it.’

It was at this point Harry returned. He bowed to Mrs Bullivant and asked her how she did, then turned to Rosamund. ‘I see you have the tea tray there, my love. Shall I ring for another cup?’

‘Please do. I was telling Aunt Jessica that we are planning a ball.’

He rang the bell and sat down opposite the two ladies. ‘Yes, the house hasn’t been used for entertaining for goodness knows how long and what better opportunity than the coronation?’

‘When is the ball to be?’ Jessica asked. ‘There is the Royal wedding tomorrow and with the coronation only two weeks away, everyone’s diaries are full.’

Harry looked at Rosamund, his eyebrow raised in a question. She nodded and he turned to the old lady. ‘Then we will leave our entertainment until the 25th. That will give everyone three days to recover and be a fitting end to the celebrations.’

‘Oh, yes,’ the old lady agreed. ‘And you must make it outshine them all, something to be remembered long afterwards. If you need any help…’

‘I think we can manage,’ Rosamund said. ‘Mrs Crossley is very competent, But I thank you for the offer.’

There was a moment’s silence while Jessica debated whether to insist on helping, but decided she could do without the bother. ‘Have you met the bride, my lord?’ she asked. ‘I am told she is not at all comely and the King is not enamoured of her. Her nose and mouth are too wide and they do say her forebears came from Africa.’

‘Gossip,’ Harry said. ‘I deplore gossip. The poor child is only seventeen and must be frightened almost to death, especially after that terrible crossing.’ The future queen had been collected from Cuxhaven by a squadron of British yachts and warships, but the westerly gales had been so bad they had taken ten days to reach Harwich. ‘I think we should all make her welcome.’

‘Why, of course,’ she said, backtracking quickly. ‘I am sure everyone will come to love her.’ Having absorbed the put-down, she rose to leave, bringing Harry to his feet. ‘I must be going. I expect I shall see you out and about while you are in town.’

He executed an elaborate bow. ‘Indeed, yes,
Rosamund and I have every intention of making the most of our stay before we return to our daughter. We are engaged at Viscount Leinster’s soirée tomorrow evening.’

‘Then I shall see you there.’ She turned and made her stately way to the door, where a footman waited to conduct her to her carriage.

As soon as she had gone, Harry turned back to Rosamund, grinning. ‘That should give her something to think about.’ And they both laughed, though Rosamund’s was a trifle hollow.

They were so much in accord, so well matched, laughing at the same things, sharing the same tastes in almost everything, loving Annabelle, it was difficult to believe they were still not truly man and wife. Mrs Crossley’s revelations went some way to explaining that, but it was difficult to believe a man like Harry Portman could not overcome his reluctance. His desire for her had been evident when he kissed her outside the library at Bishop’s Court and, if the footman had not come along when he had, who knew if he might have succumbed? How soon would it be before another opportunity arrived? she wondered. And the awful thought came to her that if he did, he might regret it. There was more to the problem than the physical act of copulation.

Unaware of her tumbled musing, he was still smiling. ‘Shall we go through those invitations while we have time?’ he suggested.

The Royal wedding took place at the Chapel Royal in St James’s Palace the following day. Few of the
public witnessed it, but those privileged to do so said the twenty-three-year-old groom was tall and dignified and the seventeen-year-old bride was tiny beside him. The crowd who waited outside were disposed to wish them well. After all, George, unlike his father and grandfather, had been born in England and English was his native tongue.

‘I feel sorry for her,’ Francis said, when he called at Portman House later that afternoon. ‘She was far outdone by Lady Sarah Lennox, who looked magnificent; the old Earl of Westmoreland had to be restrained from mistakenly doing homage to her instead of the Queen.’

‘I did not know you had been one of the congregation, Frank,’ Harry said in his lazy drawl, knowing perfectly well the young man had not been invited, though to look at his clothes one might think he had. He was dressed in a full-skirted lilac coat faced with silver, white small clothes and stockings and a purple waistcoat covered in pink-and-green embroidery. His cravat was a huge lace bow, fastened with a diamond pin. His hat was a large tricorne, which would not have disgraced an admiral. Harry did not doubt he had been the one to pay for it and while the debts for which Francis had importuned him remained unpaid.

‘No, I wasn’t, but it’s the latest
on dit.
I wonder Sarah Lennox had the face to go at all, let alone be a bridesmaid. ‘Tis common knowledge she had set her heart on becoming George’s queen.’

‘Well, I hope the King and Queen will be happy together,’ Rosamund said. ‘And I am looking forward to the coronation.’

‘You mean you have been invited?’ Francis queried in disbelief. ‘How did that come about? Harry ain’t no more than a baron.’

‘I must have done something right,’ Harry said wryly.

‘I can’t think what it could be,’ Francis went on. ‘You don’t do anything and you ain’t sat in the Lords above twice this year.’

‘Harry works very hard behind the scenes,’ Rosamund said.

Harry looked sharply at her, wondering what she knew. He had never hinted at what he did when he was doing business in London and she could not have guessed, surely? Could anyone have told her? But the only people who could have said anything were the Piccadilly Gentlemen and he could not believe they would do so. She was simply being supportive. ‘Thank you, my dear.’

‘How cosy you are,’ Francis said. ‘Are we to expect a happy event shortly?’

‘Mind your own business,’ Harry snapped. ‘Are you staying to dine? I must tell you we are going to Viscount Leinster’s soirée this evening, so we dine very early.’

As an invitation, it was grudging and Francis knew it. ‘No, thank you, coz, I am off to a cock fight at the Nag’s Head, but if Lady Portman would like someone to escort her when you are busy with your
affairs
, I will gladly offer myself.’

Rosamund sensed the tension between the two men and decided to intervene. ‘Thank you, Francis, I will bear that in mind.’ She rose as she spoke. It was a gesture of dismissal and he bowed and took his leave.

‘He is going to the Nag’s Head,’ she said to Harry when he had gone. ‘Do you think he knows Mr O’Keefe?’

‘I doubt it,’ he said, though he was wondering the same thing himself. It was a little worrying. ‘I doubt O’Keefe returned there after he had ruined Sir Joshua. He would not risk being traced and made to pay up, would he?’

‘Have you made enquiries?’

‘One or two, but so far I have learned nothing. I will keep trying.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But please do not put yourself at risk over it. I would as lief forget the whole affair than have you hurt.’