The American Heiress (37 page)

Cora’s head was aching now from the strain of smiling as if she had not a care in the world. She had faced down all the curious stares with her sparkling American smile. She found that brightness acted like an acid on the web of evasion and unspoken thoughts that characterised so much English conversation. If she stood there smiling and looking people in the eye, they were forced to meet her gaze. She began to feel better. Mrs Wyndham had been right, she could set the tone.

She could see Ivo talking to the Prime Minister. She would join him. Ivo was being unreasonable; Louvain was right, she had nothing to hide.

As she walked across the room, she heard Odo’s high-pitched voice shrieking, ‘A picture of abandonment, my dear, you should have seen his face.’ She tried to pass by without noticing, but Odo had seen her and was elaborating. ‘So naive, but then I suppose we must make allowances for Americans.’

Cora moved on, her eyes on Ivo, trying not to be distracted. There was nothing she could do about Odo.

At last she reached her husband. He was talking to Lord Rosebery and a younger man she recognised from the party at Conyers, the Prince’s equerry, Colonel Ferrers.

Cora put her hand on Ivo’s arm. She saw with dismay the expression on his face as he turned to her.

‘Cora, may I present the Prime Minister? Rosebery, my wife.’ They shook hands.

‘And Colonel Ferrers I believe you already know.’

The equerry made her a little bow.

The Prime Minister spoke. ‘I was just telling the Duke how delighted I am that he has agreed to accompany Prince Eddy. We need more peers with your husband’s sense of public duty.’

Cora smiled blankly. She had no idea what he was talking about but clearly she could not admit that. She glanced at Ivo but could only see his profile.

‘It is quite true, Lord Rosebery, Ivo has a strong sense of what is right in his position. But surely he is not alone in that?’

‘I wish your husband’s selflessness was more common, Duchess. Public service should be the companion of privilege, but so often these days it is not.’ The Prime Minister’s tone was sombre. He did not, Cora thought, look like a man who enjoyed his role in life. Ivo had told her that the only thing he really liked talking about was his horses.

‘I have heard so much about your stable, Lord Rosebery. Have you ever been to America? My father won the triple crown over there last year with his horse Adelaide.’

Ivo broke in. ‘I think perhaps the Prime Minister may be too busy to follow foreign horseflesh, Cora.’

But Rosebery was smiling. ‘Oh no, Wareham, I am never too busy for racing. Too busy for parliament perhaps but never for horses. Tell me about your father’s stable, Duchess. Are the blood lines Arabian?’

Cora began an intricate conversation about the breeding of thoroughbreds which involved a good deal of listening on her part. But at the edge of her vision she could see Ivo fidgeting. Finally Rosebery released her and turned to her husband.

‘I must say, Wareham, now that I have met your charming Duchess, I appreciate your sense of duty all the more.’ Rosebery smiled at Cora, who managed to smile back.

The crowd was at last beginning to thin out. At midnight two footmen had brought out flowered baskets full of party favours, gold cigarette cases with the Maltravers crest engraved on the front for the men, and mother-of-pearl opera glasses for the women, with the crest in gold filigree on each barrel. This had immediately shifted the party’s centre of gravity – like iron filings unable to resist a magnetic field, the guests had clustered around the source of the attraction. Some people, of course, had muttered that this munificence was a vulgar American practice but the baskets had emptied nonetheless. Cora was relieved that she had insisted on importing this Newport custom even though Ivo had laughed when she suggested it; the glittering trinkets had distracted her guests from the affair of the portrait. She was hoarse now from saying goodbye. ‘Oh, I am so glad you came – no, thank
you
for coming – I just wanted everyone to have something to remember my first party.’ She guessed that the Beauchamps had spread the news of her pregnancy, as many of the women had urged her to get some rest as they pressed her hand in saying goodbye.

Duchess Fanny had been crisp. ‘You must go to Lulworth, Cora, at once. You are lucky that everyone is leaving town so the talk will blow over very quickly. You can’t afford to have a reputation, at least not until after your son is born.’

‘But I have done nothing to deserve one!’ Cora was indignant.

The Duchess smiled from a great height. ‘Most people who have reputations don’t deserve them. I, on the other hand, don’t have the reputation I deserve. Just follow my advice, Cora, and there will be no lasting damage. And don’t look so martyred, my dear. It’s not me who minds these things but my son. He has always worried about the way things look.’

Cora retreated. ‘Oh dear, I can see some kind of problem over there with the favours. I had better go and intervene. Goodnight, Duchess.’

‘Remember my advice, Cora.’

At last everyone had gone and Cora was able to go to her room. She had not seen Ivo for the last hour, but she was too weary to look for him. So many things had happened that night that she simply could not fit them all in her thoughts. She dragged herself up the stairs to her bedroom. Ivo was not there. She sent Bertha away – she didn’t want her presence to annoy Ivo even more. As she started to undress she felt a fluttering in her stomach as if there was a butterfly trapped in her belly. She put her hand there, but she could feel nothing through the layers of petticoats. Impatiently she tugged at her skirts, pulling at the ties which fastened them, but Bertha’s knots would not be undone. In a frenzy she found some nail scissors and began to cut at her bonds. By twisting and wriggling she even managed to cut the laces of her corset. At last everything was off. It was still there, that strange light feeling deep inside her. She lay down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. She put her hands on her stomach just above her groin and waited. Would the flicker come again? Suddenly nothing else, not the picture, not Ivo, mattered. She lay there watching the glow from the dying fire until miraculously she felt it again. She had not quite believed in the baby until now, the soreness in her breasts and the fatigue had simply been unwelcome. But this, this quickening was something else – new life, new hope. This was the bond between her and Ivo. Surely he would be kinder to her now that the line was assured.

The door opened.

‘Ivo?’

Ivo said nothing.

Cora tried to stay bright. ‘Oh Ivo, the most amazing thing. I felt the baby move, such a queer feeling like a fish darting about. It’s doing it now. Put your hand here, perhaps you can feel it too.’

But her husband did not move towards her. He stood in the half-open doorway, his face silhouetted against the light from the corridor.

‘Cora, Lord Rosebery has asked me to accompany Prince Eddy on his Indian tour. The Queen and the Prince of Wales are anxious that he takes some part in public life, but Prince Eddy is not, in Rosebery’s view, “capable”. There have been incidents that…He wants me to make sure that the Prince does not cause the government any embarrassment. It is a position of trust and I have agreed to go. I think that after tonight’s debacle, it is the best thing.’ He paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand. ‘I must go to Lulworth first thing tomorrow to make arrangements with Father Oliver and then straight to Southampton. I suggest that you go to Lulworth as soon you can. I would feel happier if you were there. I am sure that Sybil or Mrs Wyndham would come with you, if you feel you need the company. As you have your own resources, I have not made any financial arrangements for you, but all the wages and estate upkeep will be taken care of.’

Cora sat up and turned on the light, her sleepiness forgotten.

‘You’re going to India? Now? I don’t understand.’ She looked up at him. He was still standing in the doorway, his dark face set.

‘Really?’ He looked at her intently, as if searching for something in her face. ‘You sit in secret for a man like Louvain and you don’t understand? You may not mind being talked about, Cora, but I do. I don’t want people looking at me and wondering about my wife.’ His face softened a little. ‘I have done my best to contain the scandal by pretending, although it pained me, to like the picture. I don’t know if anyone believed me but at least they won’t have the satisfaction of knowing that we have quarrelled. By the time I return, it will be forgotten.’

Cora walked towards him and took his hands. He did not resist, but simply let her hold them, inert and unfeeling.

She began to plead, ‘I didn’t know about Louvain’s “reputation”. I met him at the Beauchamps, after all. Charlotte almost insisted that I should sit for him. Don’t be like this, Ivo, please.’ Ivo remained motionless. Cora put her hand to her throat and whispered, ‘Look at these pearls you gave me – don’t you remember that afternoon?’

‘Of course I remember. I thought then that we had a chance of happiness.’ His voice was full of sadness.

‘But we do.’ She put his hand on her stomach.

‘Cora, please,’ but he did not take his hand away. She put her other hand to his cheek.

He moved away from her and she thought she had lost him, but then with a jerky movement he put his arms round her and held her to him. They stood in silence for a long moment.

Finally she summoned the courage to speak. She could feel his heart beating. ‘Do you really have to go?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because of me?’

‘Because of many things. I have agreed to go now.’

‘And when are you coming back?’

‘In the spring.’

‘Before…?’

‘Yes, before.’ Ivo pulled away from her.

‘And are you still angry?’

He looked at her, his face dark. ‘I don’t know any more what I feel. Sometimes I feel nothing at all.’ He turned his face away.

‘But I need you to stay. I can’t manage all this,’ she gestured at her stomach, at the room, at this strange English world that surrounded her.

Ivo’s face flickered with amusement. ‘Oh, I think you underestimate yourself, Cora,’ and then he kissed her on the cheek and closed the door behind him.

She sat after he left her for a long time, feeling the touch of his lips on her cheek; and then just as she thought she would never move again, she felt the slow beating of the life in her womb and she lay down, cradling her belly with her hands, and within seconds she was asleep.

Part Three

The English married ladies…are the brightest and most venomous politicians in English society.

Titled Americans
, 1890

Chapter 21

At Sea

B
ERTHA FELT A TRICKLE OF SWEAT RUN FROM
her neck down her back. It had been unseasonably warm for April all week, and the maid wished she had worn something lighter. There was no shade here on the beach apart from her parasol but that could not shelter her from the glare from the sea. She hoped that Cora would get out soon. Bertha did not want her complexion to be darkened by the sun. It was tiring squinting into the glare, following the dark head bobbing through the waves. It was pointless really, her vigil: if her mistress were to get into difficulties, what could she do? Bertha had never learnt to swim. Keeping a watch on Cora was her way of expressing her disapproval. A woman in her ninth month had no business to be swimming in the icy sea. It was undignified, not to mention dangerous, but Cora had ignored all her sighs and tuttings.