Marigold Chain (10 page)

Never slow to
seize an opportunity, Chloë made her second pounce of the morning.
‘I’m glad you mentioned Mr Beckwith. I’ve been wanting to ask about
him.’

Danny looked
uneasy. ‘Oh?’

‘
Yes. He
never comes here – and no one mentions him. Do you know why – or
must I ask Mr Deveril?’

Unease became
alarm. ‘Not unless you want your head bitten off. They’re in the
middle of some quarrel or other. It started the day after we met
you in the fields with young nipperkin and it’s got steadily worse
since. Giles won’t talk about it and I daren’t ask Alex.’

Chloë frowned.
‘But they’re friends, aren’t they?’

‘
Oh yes.
Have been for years – long before I knew either of them. They were
both mercenaries, you know.’

‘
No, I
didn’t know. You’ve fought with them, then?’

‘
In
Sweden, six years ago. It was only a short campaign but Prince
Rupert said that, with a bit more experience, Alex would make a
first-rate captain one day.’

Chloë thought
for a moment and then said, ‘I should have thought three weeks long
enough for two grown men to sulk – and if it isn’t, they need
help.’

Mr Fawsley
levered himself to his feet.

‘
Oh no,’
he said firmly. ‘If you don’t know better than to interfere between
those two, I do! There’ll be no reasoning with Alex just now
because being incapacitated makes him irritable. And if you’re
lunatic enough to look him in the eye and tell him he should have
thought of that before, I’ll wash my hands of you.’

Chloë grinned.
‘I’m not entirely stupid.’

‘
Good.
Look – take my advice and leave well alone. I’ve had three weeks of
living betwixt the devil and the deep – but I know from experience
that if you get between them and all that happens is you draw their
fire.’

The brown eyes
reflected intense speculation.

‘
When did
you last see Mr Beckwith?’

‘
Giles?
This morning. I met him on the High – said he was going to Tom
Blanchard’s.’ He stopped abruptly as Chloë got up and reached for
her cloak. ‘Where are you going?’

‘
To see
you out and then for a walk in the park.’

‘
No
you’re not. It’s snowing. You’re going to try and catch
Giles.’

She laughed and
shrugged. ‘There’s no reason why I shouldn’t call on Julia. I often
do. Perhaps you’d like to escort me?’

‘
Well I
wouldn’t,’ said Danny frankly. ‘I won’t have anything to do with
it.’

‘
You
could wish me
bonne
chance
.’

‘
I could
and I do. Good luck – and goodbye. And for the Lord’s sake, don’t
tell Alex you’ve been discussing it with me.’

‘
I don’t
intend to tell him anything.’

Danny eyed her
with pronounced misgiving. ‘What, then?’

‘
I’m not
sure,’ she admitted. And added cheerfully, ‘
Je m’en fiche
.’

*

The snow was
lying six inches thick in the streets and more swirled down from
the sky in great, soft flakes. It covered the houses and colleges
with gleaming grace and bathed the town in rare tranquillity.

A large flake
settled on Chloë’s nose and she brushed it off, smiling. Her hands
and feet were icy, but she did not notice as she slipped and slid
happily along the riverside. She watched a group of boys enjoying a
snow-fight and felt foolishly regretful that, being technically an
adult, she could not join in. She dwelt for moment on the alluring
picture of cooling Mr Deveril’s temper with a well-placed snowball
and then decided that in that sort of contest, as in most others,
he would probably win.

Lady Julia,
ravishing in blue silk and talking all the time, swept Chloë
through the hall. ‘My dear, I have told you over and over – only
unmarried girls wear their hair down. You really should curl it and
put it up.’

‘
My
hair
won’t
curl.’

‘
Not at
all?’ demanded Julia sceptically

‘
No. Or
not in any way that’s the least use. It wilts.’ Chloë spread
expressive hands. ‘So there you have it. Curls are out. If I
must
wear it up, it will have to be
braids and a pound of ironmongery.’ Then, entering the parlour, she
found herself face to face with Giles Beckwith and remembered – as
she had not done before - how very self-contained and elegant he
was. She also noticed his slight frown.

As for Giles,
he saw a torrent of rose-gold hair falling over a shabby green gown
and brown eyes full of sudden doubt. Banishing his frown, he bowed
and said, ‘Mistress Chloë. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I
trust you are well?’

‘
Perfectly well, thank you.’ She hesitated, glanced briefly
at Julia and added, ‘I suppose you know that I – that I’m
--’

‘
That
you’re married? Yes.’

Giles had
received a garbled version of the midnight wedding from Daniel and
then a rather more lucid one, based on Chloë’s own account, from
Julia Blanchard. It had made him feel rather ill – mainly because
he blamed himself for walking away instead of staying to control
the proceedings. It had also made him want to throttle Alex. His
next thought had been to go straight round to Mr Deveril’s lodgings
to find out how things were with Chloë and if she needed help … but
he hadn’t done it because he’d known that if he had, he
probably
would
have throttled
Alex.

Chloë smiled
wryly at him. ‘It wasn’t part of the plan.’

‘
No.’
Giles realised that he couldn’t say the things he wanted to say in
front of Mr Deveril’s sister. ‘I regret that I’ve been unable to
call. Alex and I aren’t exactly on visiting terms at the moment.
But if I can be of any assistance to you – at any time – I hope you
will tell me.’

‘
Thank
you.’ She paused, ‘Actually, there is something. I thought if
someone - meaning myself - poured a little oil on the troubled
waters, you and Mr Deveril might overcome your
differences.’

‘
I fear
it might take more than that,’ he replied a trifle grimly. And
then, ‘Alex doesn’t know what you’re doing, does he?’

‘
No.’

‘
And nor
do I,’ said Julia. ‘Giles – have you and Alex
quarrelled?’

‘
Something like that. I thought you knew.’

She shook her
head. ‘No one tells me anything! But it’s not past mending, is
it?’

‘
I don’t
know. I suspect that, this time, it just may be.’

Julia sat down.
‘I’m sorry. He said something unpardonable, I suppose?’

‘
In the
years we’ve known each other he has probably said a hundred things
that were unpardonable,’ replied Giles placidly. ‘If that were all,
it wouldn’t matter.’ He picked up his hat and turned it between
elegant fingers. ‘You must excuse me, ladies. I won’t discuss
it.’

‘
Well
that makes two of you,’ said Chloë gloomily. ‘If you are going,
will you escort me home?’

Julia blinked
and Mr Beckwith, who had not been prepared for it either,
bowed.

‘
I’d be
honoured,’ he said.

Chloë turned to
her sister-in-law. ‘You’ll forgive me, Julia?’

Her ladyship
shrugged. ‘Would it make any difference if I didn’t? I take it you
only came to talk to Giles and haven’t finished with him. He has my
sympathy!’

*

Walking down
the street, her hand firmly clutching Mr Beckwith’s sleeve, Chloë
appeared deep in thought. When she finally looked up, it was to
find the dark grey eyes resting on her with a mixture of amusement,
wariness and something she did not recognise. Then he smiled.

‘
How does
it feel to be Mistress Deveril?’

‘
Strange
– and all the more so when I’m addressed that way. I wish you would
call me Chloë. Danny and Freddy both do.’

‘
Do they?
Well, perhaps their position is less equivocal,’ he replied
evasively. ‘How are you finding Matt?’

The straight
nose wrinkled thoughtfully.

‘
I think
the word is cautious.’

‘
Ah. He
would be, of course. I would guess your marriage came as a
not-unpleasant shock and he’s reserving judgement until he knows
you better.’ He paused and steered her around a minor snowdrift. ‘A
taciturn specimen, our Matthew – but you can trust him absolutely.’
He stopped again, this time to choose his words, ‘I don’t imagine
it’s easy living with Alex?’

‘
You’re
wrong,’ responded Chloë trenchantly. ‘We co-exist in perfect
harmony.’

Mr Beckwith was
somewhat taken aback. ‘You do?’

She gave him a
sardonic smile. ‘Yes. It’s quite simple when you only meet in
passing on the stairs or at meals. And the conversation, of course,
is never allowed to impinge on the personal. It’s uncommonly
difficult to quarrel about the flavour of the soup or whether it
will thaw by the end of the week.’

‘
I see.
Do you want to quarrel?’

‘
Not
necessarily. But I’d like to reach some sort of ordinary
understanding.’ Chloë took a moment to remind herself not to say
too much. If she let the annulment out of the bag, Mr Deveril would
have her head on a plate. ‘The only things I know about him are
what Julia or Danny have told me. I don’t even know how old he
is!’

‘
He’s
thirty – a couple of years younger than myself and a couple of
years older than Danny.’

‘
Well
he’s currently behaving like a ten-year-old.’ She looked up at
Giles. ‘Did you know he and Danny are careering around Oxford
indulging in student pranks?’

He nodded,
frowning a little. ‘There’s been some talk.’

‘
I know.
I offered to mind little Tom as I used to - but as soon as his
mother knew I’d married Mr Deveril, she more or less showed me the
door. And that’s why I thought,’ concluded Chloë deviously, ‘that
you might be able to help.’

The frown
vanished and he laughed. ‘No you didn’t. You thought I’d tell Alex
that all is forgiven and stay around to hold his hand.’

‘
And
won’t you?’

‘
No. What
in particular is worrying you?’

‘
Apart
from the fact he could break his neck? The possibility that, thanks
to him, Danny or Freddy could break their necks, too.’

‘
I doubt
it will come to that. However … what tactics have you tried so
far?’

‘
None. I
was hoping you might suggest something.’

‘
I
suggest that you leave well alone,’ he said, unwittingly echoing
Daniel. And then, without warning, ‘Why did you marry
him?’

The brown eyes
widened and became blank. ‘For his money?’

‘
He
hasn’t any – or not a great deal, anyway. Try again.’

Chloë ran her
hand absently along a window-ledge, scooping up snow and watching
it fall to the ground. Then, as they turned into Brewer Street, she
stopped walking and looked into his face.

‘
You were
there. You know why. I told you at the time.’

‘
You
did,’ agreed Giles slowly, ‘but it doesn’t explain why you went
through with the midnight wedding. No one has told me that Alex
forced you. Did he?’

‘
No.’

‘
Then
why?’

‘
I
don’t
know
!’ she said, unable
to find a good answer. ‘It was as if I couldn’t do anything else -
like rushing downhill very fast and not being able to
stop!’

‘
Ah. Yes.
Alex has that effect on people.’ He paused again, not sure how much
to say. ‘He is unpredictable, provoking and wild. Unfortunately, he
is also charming, clever and physically attractive. It would be
easy, I imagine, to become … dazzled.’

Chloë
’s colour rose a fraction.

‘
You
forget that I’m twenty years old, half-French and very
practical.’

‘
My dear,
I know it,’ he replied dryly. ‘But you wouldn’t be the
first.’

Afterwards,
Giles could never decide if she had understood or even heard him.
While he spoke, she had been gazing abstractedly down the street
and then, turning abruptly to face him, she somehow slipped on the
snow and would have fallen had he not caught her. Deftly holding
her in steady hands, he set her back on her feet and was startled
by a sudden gasp of pain.

‘
Oh – my
ankle! I’ve twisted it,’ she said with another agonised
breath.

In view of
recent history, Mr Beckwith could not forbear casting a suspicious
glance into her face. He discovered that it did indeed look rather
pale and instantly felt guilty. ‘Can you walk?’

She winced and
but said, shakily, ‘Oh yes – if I can just lean on your arm?’

‘
Don’t be
a martyr.’ Scooping her easily into his arms, Giles strode down the
street to her door. Then, entering the house, he bore her up the
stairs.

Chloë’s heart
was beating a fierce tattoo and behind half-closed lids, she
wondered – since she knew what awaited upstairs - what she was
going to do when they got to the top. Giles pushed the door open
with his shoulder and then checked on the threshold.

Just in front
of the fireplace stood Mr Deveril, one arm in a sling and the other
resting casually on the mantelpiece. He had discarded his coat but
the lawn shirt was immaculate, the long hair burnished and orderly
and his expression bland.