The Drop of the Dice (Will You Love Me in September?) (21 page)

‘Transported!’

Lance nodded. ‘He’ll be on his way now… to the colony there. Quite a number of them have gone. It was his youth… and the fact that Carl did what he could… that saved his life.’

‘But he has gone away… to Virginia. That’s miles and miles… over the sea.’

‘It’s a long way,’ agreed Lance.

‘And when…?’

‘For fourteen years.’

‘Fourteen years. I shall be an old woman then…’

‘Oh no… no…’ soothed Lance.

‘I fear I shall never see him again,’ I said quietly.

Lance looked at me sadly.

‘But we saved his life,’ he said.

I
T WAS A HOT
June day. The following morning I was to be married. I was trying to look into the future and kept telling myself: It will be all right. It’s the best thing that could happen. Everyone is pleased. Everyone is sure I am going to be happy. They must be right.

It was more than three years since Dickon had been sent to Virginia but sometimes it seemed as though he were still with me. I had been dreaming of him in those weeks before my marriage. I could see him clearly, remember every detail of his face as he had stood there when he said goodbye; I fancied his eyes were full of reproach.

We were only children, I told myself, and we met in such strange circumstances. It was only natural that we should feel as we did. We did not really know each other—not as I knew Lance.

Over the last three years Lance had been a constant visitor to Eversleigh and when I became aware that he came to see me I will not pretend that I was not flattered. I looked forward to his visits. I began to realize that they were the highlights of the weeks. He brought little gifts from London or any part of the country he happened to have visited. We laughed a great deal together; we rode; we walked; and the family looked on with growing approval. And at last it came—the proposal of marriage.

I refused him. How could I marry anyone while I was waiting for Dickon? He will come home for me, I used to tell myself, and when he does I must be ready for him.

The family was disappointed. They had made up their minds that Lance would be the ideal match for me. He was older than I, but as Damaris said, I needed an older man. He was comfortably off financially, of an extremely pleasant humour; he was excellent company and approved of by Uncle Carl and therefore a very welcome visitor to Eversleigh.

Damaris tried to persuade me to reconsider his proposal. Arabella said it would be a good thing if we married; Uncle Carl said it would be an ideal match; and even Great-Grandfather Carleton said he could see nothing wrong with the young man.

Lance seemed to take my refusal more calmly than anyone. He continued to call and made it clear that he enjoyed my company still. That suited me, for I knew now how much I should hate it if he removed his friendship and his visits ceased.

He understood about Dickon, he said. That almost uncanny understanding of other people’s minds was one of the most attractive aspects of his character. He was patient, gentle and tender and gave me the impression that while he would not worry me with his importunings he was sure it would all come right in the end.

There came a day when I paid a visit to London with Damaris and Jeremy. It had been planned suddenly as Jeremy had to go to town and Damaris had thought it would be a good idea if we accompanied him. We arrived in the late afternoon and went immediately to the family’s town house where we were to stay for the few days we should be there.

The next morning I was up early and suddenly decided that it would be amusing to pay an early call on Lance. I was sure he would be delighted to see me and learn that we were to stay for a little while…

I took a sedan to the house in Albemarle Street. It was only about ten o’clock. I had always enjoyed the streets of London and was thrilled to be carried through them in my chair. Everything was so colourful. I delighted in the sedans, like the one in which I was travelling, carrying, even at this early hour, elegantly clad ladies and gentlemen. One could see the latest fashions which these bewigged and painted ladies and gentlemen liked to display. I was quizzed by one or two gentlemen passing in their chairs and I shrank back farther into my seat, feeling very much the country girl. In contrast to these brilliant people were the beggars and street tradesmen. These fascinated me and I was conscious of the tremendous noise everywhere. The newsmen were blowing their tin trumpets to announce they had the
Gazette
or whatever journal they were selling; the bellows-menders and the knife-grinders squatted on the cobbles working at their tasks and calling out all the time, while the Colly Molly Puff man who sold his pies stood side by side with a milkmaid.

I was smiling, thinking of Lance’s pleasure when he saw me, and when I reached his door I told the chairman to wait, just in case Lance should not be at home and I needed him to take me back at once.

I knocked at the door and Lance’s very excellent footman opened it.

‘Hello, Thomas,’ I said. ‘This is a surprise visit.’

He stared at me as though he could not believe his eyes. It was the first time I had seen him nonplussed. He knew me well, of course, for I with my family had often visited the house in Albemarle Street.

‘Is Sir Lance at home?’ I asked.

He floundered a little, which was odd, because he was usually so precise. ‘Oh, yes, Mistress Clarissa, but…’

I had stepped inside. ‘Oh, I am glad he’s at home. I should have been so disappointed if he had not been. I’ll go and find him. I want this to be a surprise.’

Thomas put out a hand as though to restrain me, but I had gone past him, laughing to myself at the prospect of seeing Lance’s face when he saw me.

I opened the door of the dining-room, expecting to see him at breakfast, but he was not there.

‘Mistress… you can’t!’ Thomas was close behind me.

I took no heed. I bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He must be still abed. I would tease him about his laziness. It was wrong of me to go to his bedroom. Damaris would not have approved but there was a special relationship between us. I was being unconventional but Lance himself had often said that conventions were for the unimaginative, and individualists disregarded them when it was expedient to do so.

I was doing that now.

I came to his bedroom door. Thomas was puffing after me. I knocked at the door.

‘Come in,’ said a woman’s voice.

I opened the door. She was seated at the dressing-table in her nightgown, combing her long dark hair.

‘Put the tray down there,’ she said, without turning her head.

I was astounded. What was this woman doing in Lance’s bedroom?

Then Lance himself appeared. I stared at him in amazement. He was wearing light-coloured breeches and was shirtless so that he was naked from the waist.

‘I’m ready for breakfast, darling, are you?’ he said. Then he stopped short, for he had seen me.

My face was scarlet. I turned and ran out of the room, almost falling over Thomas who was beside himself with dismay. I started down the stairs. I heard Lance call after me: ‘Clarissa. Clarissa, come back.’

I took no notice. I ran out of the house to the chair, which was mercifully waiting for me.

I did not see the colourful streets now; I did not hear the raucous cries of the street-sellers. I could only see Lance with a woman in his bedroom. Lance… who had asked me to marry him.

I never want to see him again, I told myself fiercely. I was very upset and most unhappy.

Lance, of course, did not let the matter rest there. He came to see me later in the day. I pleaded a headache and refused to leave my room. But he kept calling until I did see him.

‘I want to explain,’ he said.

‘It was self-explanatory,’ I retorted.

‘I dare say it was,’ he agreed ruefully.

‘That woman… who is she?’

‘A very dear friend of mine.’

‘Oh… you are shameful.’

‘You, my dear Clarissa, are very young. Yes, your inference is correct. Elvira Vernon is my mistress and has been for some time.’

‘Your mistress! But you have asked me to marry you.’

‘And you refused me. Do you deny me consolation?’

‘I don’t understand you.’

‘There is a great deal you have to learn of the world, Clarissa.’

‘I have already learned so much about you! What if people knew…’

‘My dear, a great many of them know. There is nothing terrible or unusual about this situation. It is a very amicable arrangement. Elvira and I suit her each other very well.’

‘Then why don’t you marry
her
?’

‘It isn’t that sort of relationship.’

‘It seemed that that was what it was… exactly. Oh, how wise I was to refuse you. Suppose…’

‘Suppose you had agreed to marry me? Then I should have brought to a close my relationship with Elvira and begun my life as a respectable married man.’

‘You are so… glib.’

‘Listen, Clarissa, I am fond of Elvira in a certain way but I don’t want to marry her any more than she wants to marry me. We just like each other. We console each other. I love you. I want to marry you. You must believe that.’

‘I do not and I have no wish to see you any more. I think it is… horrible, and I suppose you have had lots of mistresses.’

‘A few,’ he admitted.

‘Then go back to them and leave me alone. What a lucky escape I have had.’

‘So you did consider me, then?’

‘I have told you I love someone else and I am waiting for him. But it is no concern of yours because I shall never see you again.’

He regarded me with a smile, half tender, half mocking. One of the things which exasperated me was his inability to be serious about any subject; and in a way it fascinated me. It gave him an added stature, as though he was completely competent to deal with any situation.

After he had gone I realized how angry I was, how hurt, how humiliated. Why should I be? I asked myself. What he does is no concern of mine. Let him have a houseful of mistresses if he wants them.

He continued to visit the family. When he saw me he behaved as though nothing had happened. I kept wondering about him and visualizing Elvira Vernon in his bedroom. I was not entirely sure what love-making entailed and I began to develop a great curiosity about this. Occasionally I saw Elvira Vernon. She was poised and sophisticated. Quite old, I thought a little maliciously.

I became jealous if Lance did not pay enough attention to me. I could not understand myself. I was thinking more often of him than I did of Dickon. He seemed half amused by what had happened and not in the least ashamed.

Once he said to me: ‘I’m not a saint. I’m not even a monk. Elvira and I are good for each other… at the moment.’

‘I suppose,’ I retorted, ‘one could say that mistresses are as much a part of your life as gambling.’

‘I suppose one could,’ he replied. ‘What a dissolute character that makes of me. But lovable withal, eh, Clarissa?’

Then he put his arms round me and held me tightly and suddenly he kissed me.

I drew away breathless, assuming an anger which I did not feel. The fact was that I was tingling with excitement.

After that I began to realize that life was rather dull when he was not around. I thought a great deal about us. Lance, with his mistresses and his gambling, would be far from the perfect husband. And what sort of wife would I be to him—in love with someone else who was lost to me?

I talked a great deal about Dickon to Lance, stressing his innocence, his gallantry, his purity.

‘And sent overseas for years and years,’ said Lance. ‘Few ever return; are you going to spend your life in single blessedness waiting for something which may never happen? People change with the years. Your Dickon, even if he came back, would not be this pure and gallant boy who went away. And what are those years going to do to you, my sweet Clarissa? Take what is offered you now. Think what we can do for each other. You can lure me from my vices; I can make you forget an impossible dream.’

I thought a great deal about what he had said. Our relationship “was changing. He would embrace me when we met, kiss me in a strangely stirring manner. Sometimes I thought he was laughing at me because I was so innocent of life that I thought it was so dreadful for a man to have a mistress.

‘If,’ I said, ‘I should agree to marry you you would have to say goodbye to your mistress of the moment.’

‘Done,’ he said.

‘You would have to be a faithful husband.’

‘I promise.’

Then he picked me up and held me tightly and when Damaris came into the room he said: ‘It’s happened at last. Clarissa has promised to marry me.’

I told myself I must stop thinking of Dickon. That encounter with him was one little incident in my life. Lance was here, my future husband, kind, worldly, tender, taking life as it came along, enjoying it, never allowing it to oppress him. That was how I wanted to live. He was a gambler. He gambled with life. He took chances and if he lost he shrugged his shoulders and was sure he would win next time.

He had been an only child, I learned. His father had died when he was a boy and his mother had lived only a few years longer. He had inherited estates on the borders of Kent and Sussex and if he was not exactly wealthy he would have been if he had not lived so extravagantly and not lost so much at the gaming tables. My family, of course, was naturally interested in his financial position. I know now that my Grandmother Priscilla had an obsession about my being married for my money, for I was a considerable heiress.

My mother had been left a fortune and as I was her nearest of kin, that came to me. It had been looked after by Leigh, who had a head for such matters, and had accumulated during my mother’s absence in France and until my coming of age. The money was to be mine on my eighteenth birthday or when I married.

There was also my inheritance from my father which Lord Hessenfield, who had charge of these affairs, had decided should be divided equally between myself and Aimée. He had made the provision that the money should not pass to either of us until my eighteenth birthday, which was strange because Aimée was a few years older than I. I wondered why he had arranged this, for he had accepted Aimée, yet she must wait for her share. If either of us died, her share was to go to the other living sister.