Tallie's Knight (36 page)

My dear Lady d’Arenville.

Lady d’Arenville. Not
Tallie. Her heart sank.

You were sound
asleep when I came to your room and I did not wish to disturb your rest. I know
how much you need it.

Not as much as she
needed him. Why could he not have woken her?

I have important
business to transact and must leave for
London
first thing this morning. I am unsure of when I shall return, but be assured I
will do so as soon as my business allows it.

London
? The letter dropped from Tallie’s
nerveless fingers and fluttered onto the table. Gone to
London
? He had just gone off to
London
? Without
explaining or saying goodbye? With shaking fingers she picked up the letter and
continued to read, her numb brain hardly able to take it in.

You will have plenty
to occupy you in settling in to the Hall and making preparations for the
nursery. I noticed you did not sleep in the chamber allotted you. You have my
full permission to make any changes you wish and draw on any sums you think
necessary. My man of business, Jefferies, has been informed thus.

Full permission to
make any changes she wanted? Draw on any sums she thought necessary? How long
was he expecting to be gone to make arrangements like that? Informing his man
of business?

In addition, you
will need to order a new wardrobe.

Tallie glanced down
at her golden tea gown. It probably was a little shabby, she reflected sadly.
Despite the miracle wrought by the maids. And it was growing a trifle tight.
Yes, she supposed she would need a new wardrobe.

You will not lack
for either advice or masculine support during my absence, for I offered my
oldest friend, Freddie Winstanley, the living at d’Arenville and he moved into
the vicarage last month. You may repose complete confidence in both Freddie and
his wife, Joan Janet Jenny. You will like them.

Was that an opinion
of her taste in people or an order to like his friends? It was hard to know.
But why was he not here to introduce her to them? How long did he plan to stay
away? Tallie read the last lines with great trepidation.

I will make every
effort to return before you are brought to bed of a child, but if not my
thoughts will be with you. Take care, my dear.

Your affectionate
husband,

She could just make
out the scrawl at the bottom —

d’Arenville.

Tallie crushed the
letter slowly to her breast and stared blankly out of the window. She had no
idea how long she sat there staring, but she was vaguely aware of Harris coming
in at some stage and silently removing the dish of cold soup.

He brought a plate of
roast beef, fresh and hot, but she took one look at it and pushed it away. She
felt sick.

I will make every
effort to return before you are brought to bed of a child, but if not my
thoughts will be with you.

She could think of
nothing, no business, however important that could keep him away for such a
long time. Harris took away the second untouched plate and returned with Mrs.
Cobb and Monique. Tallie was vaguely aware of some whispering behind her, but
she could take in nothing —nothing but the fact that Magnus had brought her
here to d’Arenville Hall and left her the very next morning. Leaving a coldly formal
letter explaining he might possibly find the time to return after his heir had
been born. He had abandoned her. The truth pounded in her brain like a hammer
against an anvil, but she could not take it in.

It was as she had
heard him say to Laetitia all those months ago. He wanted a plain, convenient
wife whom he would get with child and live in the country. But he couldn’t have
just left her. Not Magnus.

Surely he wouldn’t —not
without even saying goodbye. Unless he really had abandoned her. He would have
found it difficult to face her, knowing what he planned —maybe too difficult. A
new thought occurred to her. Perhaps his coldness towards her after their
difference of opinion about her little brother had been feigned. Or at least exaggerated.
Perhaps even then he had been preparing to leave her here alone. She shivered,
suddenly feeling very cold.

“Milady,” said
Monique at her elbow. “Are you all right?”

Tallie did not
answer.

“Feeling a bit
poorly, the wee mite,” said Mrs. Cobb gruffly. She picked up the linen napkin
and gently blotted Tallie’s face with it.

The napkin came away
damp, and Tallie stared at it, dimly puzzled. She lifted a trembling hand to
her cheeks and found tears. She’d been crying without knowing it.

Shakily she stood up.

“I want to go to bed,
please. I don’t feel very well.”

On trembling legs
Tallie approached the staircase she had floated down so hopefully only a short
time before. It loomed before her now, an almost impossible climb. Doggedly she
took one step, then another, then another.

“Tallie, my dear,
forgive me for calling unannounced—” Hurriedly Tallie sat up, surreptitiously
wiping her eyes before turning to face the minister’s wife, Janey Winstanley,
who had become a good friend over the last few months.

Janey stopped in
mid-sentence. Her face crumpled with concern as she took in Tallie’s woebegone
face and reddened eyelids. “Oh, my dear—” she began.

Tallie interrupted.

“All these dratted
changes to the house have stirred up so much dust and I am forever catching it
in my eye.” She rubbed her handkerchief over it, blinked care’s Knight fully,
and then said with a bright, false smile, “See, it is out now. Shall I ring for
tea?”

Janey looked at her
in dismay.

“My dear, you don’t
have to pretend with me. It is monstrous cruel—”

Tallie cut her off.

“Yes, tea, I think,
and shall we take it in the new Blue Room? I am anxious for your opinion.” She
took her friend by the arm and led her towards the new blue salon.

Janey allowed herself
to be taken, a troubled frown on her face. She stood in the doorway, admiring
the newly refurbished room.

“I cannot believe
what a change you have wrought in this house, Tallie,” she said. “I never did
like —I mean, this house was always very grand and impressive, but—”

Tallie smiled.

“I didn’t like it
much either.”

Janey smiled back.

“Forgive me, I didn’t
mean to be rude. But you’ve made such a difference. It is so light and… so
pleasant and welcoming. How did you manage, in your condition?”

Tallie shrugged.

“It was not
difficult. My husband gave me carte blanche to do as I wished with the house,
and all I had to do was decide what changes to make.”

Tallie made light of
her achievements, a little embarrassed to receive praise for something done in
a surge of anger. During the first shock of Magnus’s abandonment she’d blamed
the house itself for her predicament —the house where the boy Magnus had not
been welcome, where the man Magnus could dump his unwanted bride.

If he’d had a home
instead of an ancient showplace Magnus might have been a different man, a man
who could let himself care, even a little, for his wife. So she’d attacked it
with a vengeance, changing everything she could, forcing the past into
obscurity, removing all reminders, all echoes of his forebears. It might not
ever be a home for Magnus, but she was determined it would become a home for
her children. And for herself.

“I cannot believe
what you have done,” added Janey.

Tallie looked at her
new friend with faint trepidation. She had done what she’d set out to do —made
Magnus’s boyhood home unrecognisable.

Men hated change. He
would probably be furious with her. Good. She was utterly furious with him —she
told herself so a hundred times a day so she would not forget.

“You have turned a
mausoleum into a home.”

Tallie smiled
politely, but she knew Janey’s words were not true. The house was more
pleasant, but it was not yet a home. A home needed love to warm it… and
children. She felt her eyes mist and laid her hand on her stomach.

Janey’s eyes followed
her movement.

“It won’t be long
now, my dear. Do have you had any word from your husband?”

Tallie rubbed a hand
over her swollen belly and gazed out into the garden She turned to her
companion and smiled brightly, but without a great deal of conviction.

“Oh, no. But then he
is extremely busy. Urgent business, you know.”

Janey snorted.

“In all these months?”

“Well, men do not
enjoy writing letters, I believe. In any case, they say no news is good news,”
said Tallie with a pathetic attempt at cheeriness. The two women fell silent
for a while.

“I cannot believe he—”
began Janey.

Tallie laid a hand on
her friend’s knee.

“Don’t, please.” She
bit her lip and Janey subsided.

“I am sorry to
distress you. It is just I cannot bear to see you so unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” said
Tallie tremulously. “How could I be unhappy? I have a lovely house, a secure
home, wealth to spend as I like… You forget I was little better than a pauper before
I married.”

“As if that—”

“But I explained it
to you before, Janey. I knew what I was doing when I married Magnus. I knew
then he planned this, planned to leave me here as soon as I began increasing.”

“It is just so
cruelly unjust—”

“No! It is all my own
fault. It is just. I have a foolish tendency to indulge in silly, childish daydreams,
and in my foolishness I read something more into Magnus’s behaviour towards me,
that is all. But he never said anything to make me believe he… he lo… He never
lied to me. It is just… misunderstood… he has… he has beautiful manners… that
is the trouble.” Tallie pulled out a damp and crumpled handkerchief and blew
noisily into it.

“This dust is
shocking, is it not?” she added, blinking her lashes furiously.

There was a long
pause as Tallie dabbed at her eyes. At last Janey spoke.

“You know you do not
need to face this alone, my dear. I will—”

“It is very good of
you, but I will not be alone, thank you, Janey. My husband said he will come,
if he can. This child means a great deal to him, you know.” Tallie added
wistfully, “He needs an heir. The d’Arenvilles are a frightfully ancient
family.”

Janey patted her
hand.

“Well, just in case,
be sure to send for me the minute you experience the slightest twinge.”

“There is plenty of
time. Monique says it will be several weeks yet,” said Tallie. Poor Monique,
Tallie thought. She, too, had been unlucky in love.

“Um… Freddie wrote to
Magnus, you know.”

“Does Freddie know
where he is?” Tallie turned a look of painful intensity on her friend.

Janey shook her head,
regretting her impulse.

“No, he sent it to
Magnus’s lawyers to pass on. It was just about… about parish matters,” she
lied.

“Oh.” Tallie nodded
dully. “Parish matters. Of course.”

“I must go now,” said
Janey. “Sorry I cannot spend more time—”

Tallie forced herself
to brighten.

“No, no, of course
you must go. I cannot keep you from your dear husband and your two lovely
children. It must be wonderf… It was very good of you to visit me, Janey. I
find it hard to walk far these days; my ankles swell so if I overdo it.” She
levered herself out of the chair.

Janey bent to kiss
her on the cheek.

“Take care, my dear,”
she said, and left.

Take care, my dear.
Magnus’s last words; his last written instructions to her. Tallie closed her
eyes. It was dreadful how shockingly weepy her condition caused her to be. It
would pass soon, she told herself.

That and the dull
aching pain of knowing she was not loved, not valued at all, except as a brood
mare.

It was her own fault,
she told herself firmly. She had deceived herself. He had never said he loved
her.

And it wasn’t as if
she had anything to cry about. Others had much more serious problems —her
little brother, for instance. The thought of a small boy facing the winter alone
was too distressing even to contemplate.

It was just her
condition that made her feel a touch melancholy. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t
have hundreds of moments of happiness to look back on. Tallie gasped suddenly
as a tiny fist or foot thumped her from within.

It was a timely
reminder. She should stop fretting over the past and think only of the future,
for soon she would have a dear little baby to love.

The pain would pass.

Everybody said it
would.

Although they were
only talking about the pain of childbirth.

Tallie sat on the
terrace enjoying the winter sunshine. She had several shawls tucked about her,
for it was very cold. It would have been sensible to go inside, but she did not
feel inclined to be sensible. She felt both lethargic and oddly restless.

Idly she watched a
coach bowling along the road bordering the estate.

She knew most of her
neighbours’ conveyances and she did not recognise this one. A passing stranger?

She sat up straight
as it turned in at the gateway. Miles Fairbrother, the gatekeeper, came out to
speak to the driver. Then he opened the gate and the coach drove through.
Whoever it was must have legitimate business, for Miles did not grant entry
lightly.

For one terrifying,
ecstatic moment it occurred to Tallie that it might be Magnus, returning for
the birth of the child, but this coach was plainly not her husband’s. It was
small, outmoded and shabby, and the horses were not at all the sort of cattle
her husband would own.

The horses seemed
tired. Whoever it was had travelled a long way.