Arabella (27 page)

             
She was beginning to realise how much he had meant to her now that it was too late.  Gervase had walked out of her life.  He would not come back.  Even if she ran after him, begged him to forgive her, he would not come back.

             
Because, of course, he had never loved her.  While she amused him he had been content to indulge her, but now it was over.  He no longer wanted her and he had used the quarrel over Harry to finish their relationship.

             
He had already been planning to end their arrangement before the terrible quarrel that had taken place between him and Harry.  She had known it in her heart, and his behaviour now had confirmed it.  There was nothing she could do to change things.  But what was she to do with her life now?

             
Arabella fought her tears.  There was no point in giving way to self-pity.  It would avail her nothing to feel sorry for herself.  Yet she had nothing else – no one else to fill her thoughts.  For the past year she had thought of no one but Gervase and now he was gone. 

             
A devastating emptiness filled her.  She almost wished that she might die, but something within her refused to give up.  She could not have Gervase – so she would have Harry if she could!

             
Harry loved her, she was sure of it.  He had regretted his marriage to that pale, sour-faced woman he had married, and wanted Arabella again.  She would visit him at his house and when he saw her, he would beg her to return to him.  She would forget Gervase in Harry's arms.

             
But she could not go this evening.  It was too late.  She would go in the morning.  In the meantime she would take a glass of brandy to bed with her to help her sleep.

Three glasses of brandy did not give Arabella the sleep she craved, but the fourth sent her into a drugged sleep that kept her abed until mid morning and left her feeling heavy-eyed and ill.

             
Her head was pounding and she thought she might be sick, but she drank a pot of strong dark coffee and felt a little better.  Then she dressed in one of her most attractive carriage gowns and sent for her coach and horses.  She gave the driver his instructions, climbed into the back and closed her eyes.  Her head was still aching, but she was determined to go through with her plans.

             
During the long, restless night, it had occurred to her that she was a moderately wealthy woman.  The jewels Gervase had given her were worth a small fortune alone, and the settlement was generous.  She knew that she could only use the income unless Gervase agreed to release the capital to her, but the house and its contents was also worth a tidy sum.

             
Would they be enough to lure Harry back to her?  His wife was the daughter of a very rich merchant, but both father and daughter were reputed to be penny pinching and Harry was clearly miserable.  Surely he would seize the chance to be with Arabella again?

             
Her headache had almost cleared up by the time her carriage stopped outside Harry's house.  She lifted her head proudly as she went up to the imposing front door and knocked confidently.

             
A young maidservant opened it.  She bobbed a curtsey, looking nervous and flustered as she asked for Arabella's name.

             
'I am Mistress Tucker,' she said.  'A very dear friend of your master.  I have heard that he is ill and I have called to ask after him.'

             
'Please come in, ma'am,' the girl said.  'I shall go and ask Lady Sylvester if she will see you.'

             
'Thank you, child,' Arabella said, smiling at her sweetly.

             
As soon as she was left alone, she left the small reception room to which she had been shown and headed for the stairs, knowing that this was her best chance of seeing Harry.  If Lady Sylvester saw her she would instantly be shown the door, and having come thus far she was determined to see her former lover.

             
A young footman stared at her at the top of the stairs.  'May I help you, ma'am?'

             
'I am your master's sister come to visit him,' Arabella lied wildly.  'Pray show me where I may find him for I am out of my wits with worry and could not wait a moment longer to see him.'

             
'Why certainly, ma'am,' he said flushing to the roots of his hair as she smiled at him.  'He is much better today and insisted on leaving his bed, though the doctor forbade it for a week.  You will find him in the green parlour – at the end of this hall.'

             
'Thank you.  I shall never forget your kindness,' Arabella murmured huskily and dabbed at her eyes.  In fact the tears she had cried for Gervase had vanished for the moment and she was filled with an odd excitement.  It was all going to be wonderful.  Harry was in love with her.  He would leave his wife for her and they would be happy together.  She would forget Gervase in his arms.

             
She ran down the hall and threw open the door of the small parlour, a very elegant room decorated expensively with exquisite French furniture and heavy damask drapes.  Everything about it shouted money, though it was perhaps a little vulgar compared to Gervase's own home, and the house he had bought for her.

             
Harry was lying on a gilt sofa, his eyes closed, his open dressing robe revealing a heavy strapping of bandages around his chest.

             
'Harry!' she cried, causing him to look up.  'Oh, my dearest.  I had to come when I heard what had happened…' She faltered as she saw the unmistakable look of horror in his eyes.  'Harry…I know I should have let you know I was coming but…'

             
'Good Lord!  What the hell are you doing here, Bella?  For goodness sake get out of here before Jane sees you.'

             
'But you are unhappy with her.  Everyone says so.  Leave her and come to me, Harry.  I have money.  We could go away – to Paris or Italy…'

             
'Did you not hear me?'  Harry's eyes shot to the door.  He was clearly nervous.  'Jane will kill me if she sees you here.'

             
'You don't need her or her money…'

             
'Damn it!' Harry swore, his face going deadly white as his wife entered the room.  'Get her out of here, Jane, for pity's sake.  She is quite mad and I fear she will bring on another seizure.'

             
'My poor Harry,' Lady Sylvester said, her eyes sparking with fury as she looked at Arabella.  'I suppose you are that – that woman who caused my poor darling so much trouble before?  Well, madam, I shall give you five minutes to leave my house and then my servants will throw you into the street.'

             
Arabella watched as she bent over Harry, stroking his hair back from his forehead.  He smiled up at her, perfectly content to be made a fuss of and ignoring Arabella completely.

             
What a fool she had been to come here!  Arabella realised what she ought to have known at the beginning.  Harry Sylvester cared for no one but himself.  He had never loved her.  He did not love his wife, but she gave him what he needed – money and a certain amount of freedom.  And she clearly loved him.

             
Lady Sylvester had straightened up.  She glared at Arabella and then went over to a satinwood side table where a silver bell had been placed.  As she picked it up, Arabella turned and walked out of the room.  Her cheeks were burning and she felt the sting of humiliation.

             
She had no place in this house.  She ought never to have come.

             
All she could do now was to return to her own house and think – about what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

'There is a visitor, ma'am, a gentleman,' Arabella's maid said as she came into the salon where Arabella was drinking yet another glass of wine.  She had decided to stick to wine, because the after effects of over indulging were not as severe as she had suffered from Gervase's best brandy.  'He was most insistent on seeing you.'

              'Tell him to go away,' Arabella said.  In the past week she had had five gentlemen callers, all of them so called friends of Gervase, and all of them with one purpose in mind.  'I do not want to see anyone – unless it is Roxbourne.'  But of course Gervase would not come.  He had told her it was over and she knew he would not change his mind.

             
She sipped her wine as the maid went away, glancing at herself in the mirror above the fireplace.  She was hardly fit to receive callers, her hair straggling about her shoulders, her gown creased and stained with wine she had spilled on the skirt earlier.  Her eyes were puffy from weeping, but she had discovered that tears did not help.  The only thing that helped her to sleep was wine, and that made her mouth taste foul and riled her stomach.  Yet she could not rest without it, and she did not know how to face her life.

             
'Your maid said you were receiving only Roxbourne,' a voice said from the doorway and she turned to see Jack Meadows enter the pretty salon.  'He won't come, Bella.  Once he is finished with someone that's it.  I would have thought you would know that much by now.'

             
'Who asked for your opinion?' Arabella asked, deliberately rude.  She had not forgiven him for his insult.  It seemed to her fuddled mind that everything had started to go wrong that evening. 'I do not know why you have come here – you and all the others.  I don't want to be any man's mistress.  There isn't a penny to choose between you and I've had enough of you all.'

             
'I dare say you feel that way for the moment,' Jack drawled.  'I think you cared for Gervase more than he realised – which was why he finished it I suppose.  He doesn't care to be caught in the cat's claws. You shouldn't have shown your feelings so plainly, Bella.'

             
'Damn him – and the rest of you,' Arabella muttered and took another sip of her wine.  'Why should I care?  I have money.  I can look after myself.'

             
'Drink yourself into a stupor, you mean?  How long will your looks last if you drown your sorrows in wine day and night?'

             
'I might as well be dead…'

             
'But why?  Because one man deserted you?  Why not take another in his place?  Show him it doesn’t matter to you that he went off to the country to sulk and left you to fend for yourself.'

             
'Why do you care what happens to me?'  Arabella's eyes flashed with temper as she looked at him.  'You never liked me, Jack.  I could see it in your eyes – and you insulted me the other night.'

             
'Yes, Gervase told me you took that hard,' Jack said.  'It wasn't meant the way you think, Bella.  I don't despise you – and I've always wanted you.  I envied Gervase having you as his mistress, but I couldn't compete with him.  I don't have his money or his power.  Besides, I wouldn't have dared to try and take you from him while he wanted you.  Now he has finished the affair it's different.  I think we might suit each other, Bella.  I haven't as much money, but I dare say I could please you in other ways.'

             
'I doubt it,' she said, angry that he should imagine Gervase had bought her favours.  It was true that he had rescued her from the bawdyhouse, and that he had given her presents and money – but she had given herself to him so wholeheartedly  because…she loved him.  She hadn't known it until it was too late, but now she realised it was the cause of her present misery. 'Go away, Mr Meadows.  I do not want to be your mistress.  Nor any man's.  Tell your friends that if you please.'

             
'Because you still want him I suppose?'  Jack laughed harshly.  'The stupid fool doesn't know that of course or he wouldn't have left you.  He would give me a handsome present for that knowledge, Bella – but I would rather have you.  At least once…'

             
Arabella put her wineglass down hastily as he took a purposeful step towards her.  Her head was spinning and she knew that she was intoxicated.  She had been feeling sorry for herself for days and had been drinking far too much wine in an effort to block out her unhappiness.  Now she wished she hadn't!

             
'Stay away from me,' she warned and held her hands up to ward him off.  'I shall never be your mistress.  You are not half the man Gervase is and…'

             
'Not half the man?'  Jack smiled nastily.  'How he would love to hear you say that, Bella – but after I've finished with you he won't touch you.  No man will want you again…'