Christina Hollis (25 page)

I’ll sting him into some sort of reaction, Madeleine thought as they joined hands. The way he’s stung me.

‘I bet Mr Pettigrew is really annoyed with you, too,’ she said as they moved together. Stepping apart, she realised Philip’s silence was not so much dismay as absorbed concentration.

‘I don’t doubt that,’ he managed, in strict tempo. Only when they were advancing easily again did he manage another phrase. ‘I gather that you and he have been causing some mischief already this evening.’

‘It’s nothing to do with me.’ Madeleine scowled until she remembered her adoring public. ‘All I can say is that Miss Wright had better enjoy infirmary food. Albert Pettigrew doesn’t look like one to give up his daughter’s chance of a house, and a landowner’s income lightly.’

Philip was so transfixed by her words, he forgot to let go of her hand at the right time. She had to practically shake him off.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ He tried to stop her dancing on, but they were carried forward by the press of people coming along behind.

‘Have a care, Master Philip.’ Madeleine smiled as they came together once more. ‘I see that Miss Wright is on her own over there in the corner at the moment. Mind Pickersgill doesn’t try to snap her up. I can confirm that he’s almost as big a rogue as you are, sir!’

At that, Philip really did manage to stop. For a moment confusion reigned. Only Madeleine’s quick movements managed to prevent a pile-up as she bundled him backwards out of the line. Rejoining the dance at its tail-end, she manhandled him through the next few steps until he caught up with himself again.

‘I regret—I am no dancer, Mademoiselle Madeleine...’

‘Rubbish. All you need is practice. And not looking at Master Jack might help, too. He’s only trying to put you off.’

Philip took her advice and concentrated on the final few steps of the dance in silence.

When the music bounced to a close both he and Madeleine sighed with relief. Jack strolled up, thrusting an apple at his friend.

‘Congratulations, Phil! You’ve won a prize. Quite the gloomiest partner Mademoiselle Madeleine’s had all evening. You were every inch the capering undertaker!’

‘I didn’t do too badly,’ Philip retorted, tossing the apple back into a nearby basket of fruit.

‘No, indeed. I particularly liked that interesting little variation about halfway through. Pray tell me, sir,’ Jack said with a mock bow, ‘what is the technical phrase for that?’

‘A mistake.’ Philip returned his friend’s bow with heavy irony. ‘Now, before your praise becomes even more fulsome, Master Jack, Mademoiselle Madeleine and I have some urgent business to attend to out on the terrace...’

He tugged Madeleine away from the dancing with little ceremony, despite the arrival of her next partner. Philip was in a hurry. Madeleine had to trip along beside him as best she could through the crowds.

As they reached the garden doors she decided that the game had gone far enough. She dug in her heels and refused to go any further.

‘I wouldn’t go out willingly with Sir Edwin Pickersgill, and I’m damned if I’ll be dragged, sir!’

‘You are very lucky I allow you to talk so, mademoiselle.’

‘I’m lucky these days if you talk to me at all!’

The retort silenced him. He let go of her wrist and Madeleine immediately began rubbing at the imagined injury.

‘I suppose that remark was long overdue.’ He tugged at the bottom of his new waistcoat, as though his immaculate clothes might have been disarrayed in the excitement. ‘Very well, mademoiselle. My sincerest apologies for not dancing attendance upon you every minute of every day. Easy charm is, unfortunately, not in my nature. However, would you accept a formal invitation now to accompany me outside for a breath of air?’

‘And if I refuse?’ Madeleine tossed her curls and looked at him insolently. How dared he toy with her affections, even at this late stage?

Concern flickered across his face, but was replaced by a slow smile.

‘Jack says that I waste too much time with good manners and correct behaviour. Perhaps he is right. Mademoiselle, the time for reticence is over. If you refuse to come with me, then I shall have no hesitation in taking you away from this assembly by force!’

Madeleine was astonished, and not a little afraid. The number of times she had wished he would sweep her off her feet... but now it was happening, she felt her legs beginning to fail. Did he mean it? How far would he go?

‘I won’t.’

They were close to one of the side-tables bearing refreshments. Madeleine picked up a second glass of lemonade as a diversion.

‘Put that down at once, mademoiselle, and come with me this instant.’

‘I’m thirsty—’ Madeleine began, but irritation soon turned to fury as he tried to take the cup from her.

‘Have it, then!’

With a sharp movement she upended the glass over his jacket. It was the turn of the surrounding crowds to be astonished.

‘There, now! Everybody’s looking at us, Master Philip. Never mind hiding your feelings from the servants, let’s see you in your true colours in front of your friends!’

Philip watched the lemonade trickle over the brocade of his new waistcoat. Flicking an idle droplet from his hand, he bowed an apology to the crowd before turning back to Madeleine.

‘Very well, mademoiselle. Given a choice between remaining here to offend the assembly or gaining a few minutes alone with you—’

Before Madeleine could squeak he had gathered her up in his arms and carried her out into the garden.

Her struggles were a mere token. Philip was far too powerful to be denied. In any case, night after night she had ached for his touch. This would be the last opportunity she would have to experience it, however rough it might be.

From tonight he would belong to Leonora Wright. Madeleine would never again be able to experience his warmth and closeness.

He set her down on a stone bench outside the enormous windows of the assembly room. Music and laughter danced out from within and fluttered about the terrace.

Curtains filtered the bright lights of the assembly room and the terrace was better served by moonlight. The whole garden was awash with sweet perfume and the soft whisperings of couples wandering amid the roses a little distance away.

‘Now, mademoiselle,’ He began as they both settled their ruffled appearances, ‘I want an explanation from you, and you will not be returning to the ball until I have received it.’

Madeleine looked away from him sullenly. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I had not been at this assembly for more than a minute when I and my companions the Wrights were put in a most embarrassing position. We were put there by your mischievous tongue, mademoiselle.’

An owl mocked down in the valley. Unlike a previous evening, Philip seemed immune to thoughts of bird-song and continued to pace back and forth in front of Madeleine.

‘The Wright family are old and very dear friends. My father was Leonora’s godfather. When he died I stepped in to help where I could — a parson’s allowance being as slim as it is. They are even worse off than we are, and it is only fair to offer assistance. Leonora is not now, nor has she ever been anything more to me than an adoptive goddaughter.’

Madeleine was at once puzzled and mightily relieved.

‘But—you were talking about an announcement, and presents, and so I thought—’

‘Yes, Mademoiselle Madeleine, but you thought wrongly. In my foolish arrogance I attributed to you the skills of a mind-reader in addition to all your other delightful accomplishments.’

He stopped pacing. Madeleine turned to see what had caused his hesitation and saw two horribly familiar figures striding across the terrace towards them.

‘It looks as though your suitors have tired of me,’ he began drily. Pickersgill and Pettigrew were not happy. Philip moved close to Madeleine and put his hand upon her shoulder.

‘Don’t be afraid...’

‘Oh, no! It must be about the money! What are we going to do?’

‘You aren’t going to do anything, Madeleine. Leave this to me.’

‘But Pickersgill’s been at boiling-point all evening!’

Madeleine felt his hand tighten on her shoulder. She grasped it automatically, seeing the look on Sir Edwin’s face as he marched up with Pettigrew close behind.

‘We’re going to ruin you, Adamson. As your brother’s ruined Kitty Pettigrew!’

Philip drew himself up to his full height and gave the two men a wintry smile.

‘If it’s money you want, gentlemen, I have already started negotiations with my bank to settle your accounts once and for all.’

Madeleine gasped at the risk he was taking that Mistress Constance would find out about the loan, but Pickersgill hadn’t finished.

‘Milton the banker’s a personal friend of mine. He’ll not give you a penny once I tell him the sort of reprobate you are! The bad product of a bad family!’

He was getting into his stride now, but behind him Albert Pettigrew was dithering with indecision.

Sensing trouble, Jack had followed the two men out on to the terrace. Once at Madeleine’s side he slipped his arm around her waist. She looked up to see Philip exchange a haunted look with his friend.

‘The least you could do after your brother’s disgraceful behaviour is to make amends to the Pettigrew family, but oh, no! You had to take money from him, as well! Even then there’s no end to your heartlessness! Seducing a vicar’s daughter on the one hand while cavorting with this—this trollop—’ Pickersgill was becoming incoherent in his rage.

Madeleine had her own thoughts on Philip’s attachment to Leonora, and the words brought her tears bubbling to the surface. Gently, Jack started to pull her away.

‘Come with me, mademoiselle. I’ll look after you...’

‘Jack—do something! They can’t take him! He hasn’t done anything really wrong!’

Philip bent to her, his voice calm and steady.

‘I can’t pay my debts, and I have no intention of marrying poor Kitty, which is all that matters to them right now.’

Looking up, Madeleine saw that grim lines of secret dread had started to transform his face as Pickersgill squared up to give his ultimatum.

‘Albert and I have decided we’ve been too lenient for too long. As from this moment, our loans are withdrawn. We want all our money back - right now. What have you got to say to that?’

Stalwart to the last, Philip continued to face the triumphant Pickersgill and the thoroughly miserable Pettigrew. ‘Very well, but I can’t pay you at this immediate moment, gentlemen. If nothing else, the banks are all closed at this hour.’ His attempt at humour raised nothing but a wail from Madeleine, so he spoke again quickly. ‘I’ll need time. Six weeks?’

Pickersgill moved in for the kill. ‘You’ve had time in the past. There’s no reprieve for the sort of knaves your family’s produced.’

‘I simply don’t have the money—’

‘Should have thought of that before you started spending.’ Pickersgill laid a heavy hand on Philip’s shoulder and began hustling him across the terrace. ‘You owe me, and I’m going to see that you suffer. I know my rights. You’re off to the debtor’s cell, my lad. you can cool your ardour in there for a while.’

He shot a lascivious look at Madeleine as she tried to follow them. ‘You might start to feel differently about the number of staff you employ, too. Mrs Pickersgill’s always on at me to look out for hard workers.’

‘And you might start to think differently about Kitty, too!’ Pettigrew added, finding his voice along with his indignation.

Philip stopped just before Pickersgill got him to the garden doors. Inside the music and dancing were as gay as ever, in awful contrast to Philip’s quiet acceptance of his fate.

‘Madeleine, look after Mother for me? Help her to cope with all this. Jack...?’

The two young men had been friends for so long that speech was barely needed. With a few rough words of parting Philip handed Jack a few personal items from his pockets before Pickersgill laid hold afresh. Delighted at his success, he bore the prisoner on towards the salon with Albert Pettigrew following uncertainly in his wake.

‘Philip!’

‘Hush!’ Jack held Madeleine back with gentle firmness. ‘Remember what he said. It’s Mistress Constance whom we must look to for the moment. Come on, we must try and save her from seeing this.’

He hustled the unwilling Madeleine along the side of the building and in through the conservatory. Here he stopped and took her by the shoulders.

‘Now, listen to me, Madeleine. There are worse situations for a man to be in than a debtor’s cell, but not many. It’s going to be difficult, but there are some things we can do to help. I’ll do what I can, but it’ll be up to you to make sure that Phil doesn’t have anything to worry about back at home. Hard as it might be, try and keep cheerful. For your own sake, his mother’s and, most of all, for Philip!’

Madeleine heard the ripple of astonishment that greeted Philip’s arrival in the salon behind them. All merriment faded, exactly as it had been extinguished for her when she had seen Philip walk in with Leonora earlier in the evening. Madeleine knew it would be a very long time before she could ever be happy again.

Jack was a tower of strength. He managed to keep Mistress Constance in the ladies’ room until Philip had been taken away. Then he accompanied Madeleine and the distraught Mistress Constance all the way back to Willowbury.
        After settling Philip’s mother in bed with a sedative draught, he and Madeleine stayed with the old lady. None of their assurances were able to ease her mind. More distressing than her condition was the grief she felt at Philip’s deceiving her about the money problems.

‘There was nothing else he could do, madame. He didn’t want to worry you with it,’ Madeleine comforted her employer gently.

It was no use. Mistress Constance would have none of it. ‘I would rather have been worried then, than frantic now! Oh, what’s to become of us?’

She repeated the cry over and over again until Jack’s potion worked its magic, and her worries slipped away into sleep.

When Mistress Constance was settled Jack led Madeleine downstairs to the library.

‘Jemima, the Adamsons’ ward, will have to be taken out of school. The publicity will be too much,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll scribble a quick letter, we’ll drive to Cheltenham now to deliver it, then I’ll take you to see my father. He’ll sort everything out.’