Mermaids Singing Page 7

  ‘Just you remember that when he turns on the charm then,’ Maria said, shaking her head. ‘Sir Desmond is no fool and a scandal could lose him his seat in the House of Commons. You keep your head, my girl, and think of little Leonie.’

  An hour later, dressed in a shimmering gown of ivory satin, trimmed with Brussels lace, Bella glided down the marble staircase to the entrance hall. Sir Desmond and Iris were already there, wrapped in their outdoor clothes, waiting for her.

  ‘You’re late, Bella,’ Sir Desmond said, making a show of consulting his gold pocket watch. ‘You might at least make an effort to be ready on time.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Desmond,’ Bella said, as Maria slipped her sable cape over her shoulders. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘I managed to be ready on time,’ Iris said, shooting a resentful glance at Maria. ‘And I don’t have the luxury of a personal maid. I have to make do with Jane.’

  ‘That will do, Iris,’ Sir Desmond said, striding towards the door. ‘I don’t want to listen to two women bickering all the way to Belgrave Square.’

  Iris’s mouth turned down at the corners and she tossed her head, but she refrained from answering. Bella could feel her eyes boring into the back of her head as she followed Desmond down the stone steps, and a shiver went down her spine. If Iris were to discover her past relationship with Rackham … The mere thought of it made her feel sick with dread.

  Lord Swafford’s mansion in Belgrave Square was filled with politicians and their wives, eminent writers, artists and intellectuals. Acting out her role as a dutiful wife, there to enhance her husband’s reputation and to be decorative rather than to contribute anything to the evening, Bella smiled a lot and said very little. Desmond’s contemporaries seemed to appreciate her reticence, and she overheard one of the ladies saying that, in spite of her background, Sir Desmond’s young wife seemed a charming, well-mannered young lady. From the looks that Iris was giving her, Bella knew that she didn’t agree. She turned away, determined not to let Iris see that her constant sniping bothered her, and came face to face with Giles Rackham.

  ‘My dear Lady Mableton,’ Rackham said, with a small bow. ‘How delightful to meet you twice in the same day.’

  Bella felt her heart pounding against the cage of her tightly laced corsets and prayed silently that she wouldn’t faint. She couldn’t keep up the pretence of not knowing him and risk drawing attention to herself. Inclining her head, she forced her lips into a smile. ‘Good evening, Mr Rackham.’

  Rackham grinned, his teeth startlingly white against his olive skin. ‘So you remember me now.’

  ‘I do,’ Bella said, unfurling her fan and fluttering it in front of her face. ‘And I’m surprised they allowed a libertine like you to enter this house.’

  ‘I’m devastated, my dear Bella,’ Rackham said, holding his hand over his heart, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘You seem to have lost your good opinion of me, but I remember a time when it wasn’t so.’

  ‘And I’d rather forget it,’ Bella said, in a low voice. ‘I don’t know how you managed to worm your way into this party but, if you have even the slightest vestige of regard left for me, you’ll leave now, before anyone notices you.’

  ‘You know that I would do anything to oblige you, my darling. But it might prove be a bit difficult since our illustrious host, Lord Swafford, is my uncle.’

  Glancing over his shoulder, Bella saw Iris watching them with a frankly curious expression on her face. To make matters worse, Desmond had just come into the room, chatting with Lady Swafford, and they were heading this way.

  ‘Just leave me alone, Giles,’ Bella said. ‘For God’s sake, leave me be.’

  Rackham took her hand and brushed it with his lips. ‘I will. For now, at least.’ And he strolled off.

  Rackham was seated on the opposite side of the table from Bella at dinner, a few places down and too far away for conversation, but close enough for him to catch her eye every time she turned her head in his direction. Every mouthful of food seemed to choke her and, by the time Lady Swafford rose to her feet, requesting the ladies to join her in the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars, Bella had developed a pounding headache.

  In the drawing room, Lady Swafford, a large lady with a deep bosom that seemed to droop beneath the weight of her diamond and ruby necklace, sailed up to Bella and laid her hand on her arm. ‘You look a little pale, my dear. Are you not feeling quite the thing?’

  ‘Just a headache,’ Bella said, glancing over Lady Swafford’s ample shoulders to make sure that Iris was not within earshot. Mercifully, she was seated at a card table on the far side of the room. ‘It will pass in a moment or two.’

  ‘I understand,’ Lady Swafford said, with a knowing smile. ‘I was like that every time I was in an interesting condition.’

  ‘No, no,’ protested Bella, feeling the colour flood to her cheeks. ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘No? But of course you already have a little daughter, have you not?’

  ‘Leonie, yes, she is just two.’

  ‘And Sir Desmond already has a son and heir,’ Lady Swafford said, her gaze shifting as her interest appeared to wane.

  ‘Yes, Edward, but I have yet to meet him.’

  A spark of curiosity lighting her eyes, Lady Swafford put her head on one side. ‘I believe that the gallant captain is in the Sudan fighting the Dervishes.’

  ‘We all hope he will return safely before too long.’

  ‘Yes, of course, we hope that for all our brave men, and no doubt the gentlemen are still mourning the death of poor General Gordon at Khartoum, and celebrating our glorious victory at Omdurman. You’ll excuse me, my dear.’

  Lady Swafford patted Bella’s hand, moving on to speak to an elderly dowager, who was clutching a hearing trumpet to her ear and shouting at her companion, a thin, pale-faced young woman who looked as though she would rather be anywhere but here.

  Bella could sympathise wholeheartedly with that feeling, but she was thankful that Lady Swafford’s interrogation had ended so quickly, although she could sense the covert stares of some of the older matrons. Once again, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was the main topic of conversation. Her head ached miserably and her stomach muscles felt as though they were tied in a knot; she dreaded the moment when the gentlemen joined them and a further, inevitable encounter with Rackham. Iris appeared to be deeply engrossed in her card game or else she was deliberately ignoring her. Either way, Bella thought this infinitely preferable to direct confrontation. She took a turn around the room and found a quiet corner where she sat down on a love seat, watching the door. When the gentlemen joined them, she would seek out Desmond, plead her headache and ask him to send for the carriage.

  *

  Iris had not spoken a word on the short carriage ride home, but Bella was well aware that she was furious with her for spoiling the evening. Inscrutable as ever, Warner had taken their outer garments and sent the second footman to the kitchen with Iris’s demand for a tray of hot chocolate to be sent to the drawing room.

  ‘And send the hall boy with coal for the fire,’ Iris said, casting a sidelong glance at Bella. ‘It’s far too early to retire to bed.’

  Desmond tucked Bella’s hand in the crook of his arm and led her to the foot of the staircase. ‘You look very pale, my dear.’

  ‘It’s just the headache, Desmond.’

  He slipped his arm around her waist and placed his lips close to her ear. ‘Have you something to tell me, Bella?’

  Bella stifled a sigh. Why did everyone assume that her only purpose in life was to produce children like a brood mare? Desmond’s breath was hot on her cheek, smelling of brandy and cigars, but she resisted the urge to pull away from him. ‘No, it really is just a headache.’

  ‘We’ll have to see what we can do about that,’ Desmond said, running his finger over the curve of her breast. ‘Send Lane away as soon as possible, my dear, I’ll join you in a little while.’

  Bel
la forced a smile as she slid from his grasp. She could feel him watching her as she mounted the stairs and she suppressed a shudder. Instead of going directly to her room, she climbed the next flight of stairs to the nursery suite. The day nursery was in darkness and the fire had burned to white ash. Thinking that Nanny was probably asleep in her room, Bella tiptoed into the night nursery. Leonie lay, sleeping soundly in her cot, her cheeks round and rosy in the flickering glow of the nightlight. Leaning over to lay the lightest of butterfly kisses on Leonie’s golden curls, Bella tucked the fluffy blanket beneath her chin. Her heart swelled with love and her throat constricted with emotion as she gazed at her adored child. Leonie was so innocent, so perfect and so utterly beautiful. Nothing else mattered in the world other than providing her with the love and security that had been so painfully missing in her own childhood.

  Wiping a tear from her cheek, Bella turned to look at Kitty. She lay in her truckle bed with the curtain pulled back, as though she had been gazing up at the night sky, before she had fallen into a deep sleep. Her feet were poking out from beneath the serviceable cotton quilt and, as Bella went to cover them up, she hesitated for a moment. Taking a closer look at the callused soles of Kitty’s feet, Bella recognised the results of going barefoot, even in winter. There were crimson patches over her toes where badly fitting boots had rubbed her skin into blisters: these had burst, festered and formed weeping sores. Snatching up Kitty’s boots, Bella shook her head, stifling an exclamation of disgust at their worn state. The heels were worn down; the soles holed and padded with brown paper. Replacing them on the floor beside the bed, Bella reached out to stroke the uneven regrowth of hair on Kitty’s head. Poor kid, she thought sadly, you could be me just a few years ago and I know exactly the kind of hell you’ve been through. Creeping out of the room, Bella closed the door quietly behind her. She could do nothing to wipe out Kitty’s past, and she could not be seen to favour her too much, but at least she could do something about the boots. She would give Nanny Smith instructions to take Kitty to Harrods first thing tomorrow, and ensure that she was fitted out with a new pair of properly-fitted, leather boots.

  Seeing a glimmer of light beneath the door to Nanny’s room, Bella opened it just far enough to peep inside. The gaslight on the wall made popping sounds but the room was empty and the bed neatly made up. Bella gave an exasperated sigh; Nanny Smith should have been close at hand in case Leonie needed her. She would have something to say to that stupid country girl in the morning, but that would have to wait. Her headache was getting worse by the minute and now she was feeling sick. Bella made her way slowly down the stairs. She hoped desperately that Desmond would forget his promise to come to her bed and that he would lose himself in the brandy bottle. Try as she might to put it out of her head, Rackham’s darkly handsome face kept appearing in her mind’s eye, sending icy shivers down her spine at the thought of what he might say or do. Desmond would not tolerate a scandal.

  As Bella entered her room, Maria emerged from the bathroom, followed by a cloud of scented steam.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Maria said, undoing the tiny buttons at the back of Bella’s evening gown. ‘I can tell by your face that it’s your curtain call tonight.’

  ‘I can’t do it, Maria. I’ve got a splitting headache and you know what he’s like when he’s been drinking.’

  ‘Not as bad as your father was, that’s for sure. At least Sir Desmond don’t come at you with the buckle end of his belt,’ Maria said, deftly slipping the satin gown off Bella’s shoulders and allowing it fall to the floor. She began to loosen the laces of Bella’s corset. ‘Get yourself into the bath and I’ll mix you a few drops of laudanum in some brandy. You’ll get through it, Bella. You always do.’

  Next morning, Bella had her breakfast brought to her room. She could not venture downstairs until Maria had skilfully covered the bruises around her mouth with her own special mixture of cold cream and fuller’s earth. When that was done to her satisfaction, she tinted Bella’s ashen cheeks and lips with a touch of Roger & Gallet’s pink salve. A silk blouse with a high neck covered the purple fingermarks on her throat and Maria deftly combed a lock of hair over the bruise on her temple.

  ‘You’ll do, but I still say you should have stayed in bed,’ Maria said, standing back to gaze critically at her handiwork.

  Getting stiffly to her feet, Bella winced with pain as her corsets pressed on her sore ribs. ‘And give Iris the satisfaction of thinking that I’m a pathetic, sickly creature like her poor mama?’

  ‘I don’t wonder that the first Lady Mableton took to her bed and died young,’ observed Maria, folding her arms across her chest. ‘If this is what you get for nothing, I’d hate to see what you’d get for something.’

  ‘Please, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Bella said, walking stiffly towards the doorway. ‘As you said, it’s nothing to the beatings my own father gave me. The bruises will fade and he’ll be so sorry this morning that he’ll go out and spend a small fortune in Asprey. I’ll get yet another expensive bauble for my pains.’

  ‘If that’s all you get, you’ll be lucky,’ Maria said, scooping up the telltale pots of cream and powder.

  ‘At least he’ll let me be if I’m with child. He seems convinced that Edward will be killed in action and quite happy to replace him with another son. I don’t believe the Mabletons know the meaning of the word love.’ Bella left the room before Maria had a chance to say anything more on the subject, and made her way painfully up to the nursery.

  Nanny Smith dropped a curtsey but not before Bella had seen a look of alarm cross her face.

  ‘Where were you last night, Nanny?’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘I came to the nursery quite late but you weren’t here, nor were you in your room. You know that you’re not supposed to leave Miss Leonie unattended.’

  Nanny Smith blushed and her eyes started from her head. ‘I’m sorry, my lady. I was …’

  ‘Nanny went downstairs to get me a boiled onion for my earache,’ Kitty said, spooning bread and milk into Leonie’s pink mouth. ‘I had earache something terrible.’

  She’s lying, Bella thought, but I mustn’t seem to favour her. ‘You were sleeping soundly enough when I came to look at baby. You looked very peaceful to me.’

  ‘That’s right, my lady,’ Nanny said, hastily. ‘I did go to the kitchen but I had to wait for the water to boil. I came back as quick as I could. It won’t happen again, I promise you.’

  ‘Make very sure it doesn’t, or I might consider replacing you.’ Bella had the satisfaction of wiping the smile off Nanny’s face. She had never particularly liked the woman, but then she had had no say in selecting her for the position. When Desmond had brought her home, after their hastily arranged marriage in Caxton Hall, Iris had already organised the setting-up of the nursery and that had included the hiring of Nanny Smith.

  ‘It won’t happen again, my lady. I’m truly sorry.’

  ‘Then we’ll say no more.’ Bella grasped the back of a chair as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Maria had been right; she should have stayed in bed. ‘Nanny, I want you to take Kitty to Harrods this morning and buy a pair of serviceable boots that fit her properly. Charge them to my account.’

  ‘Yes, my lady. Are you all right, Ma’am?’

  ‘Just a dizzy spell. Kitty, let me lean on your shoulder.’

  Dropping the spoon, Kitty leapt to her feet.

  ‘Help me back to my room,’ Bella said, as the room began to swim crazily around her.

  Collapsing onto the chaise longue in her boudoir, Bella caught her breath, coughing and spluttering, as Maria wafted sal volatile beneath her nose.

  ‘You would have it your own way,’ Maria said, closing the lid on the silver vinaigrette with a snap. ‘I’ll turn back your bed and you’re to lie down until I say you’re fit to get up again.’

  Through half-closed eyes, Bella could see Kitty staring at her with a disturbingly adult look of understanding and sympathy
in those remarkable topaz eyes. ‘Thank you, Kitty,’ she whispered. ‘I feel much better now.’

  ‘Can I get you anything, my lady?’

  Shaking her head, Bella managed to smile. ‘You’re a good girl, Kitty. Tell me, are you happy here?’

  ‘Yes, my lady, but …’

  Forgetting her own troubles for a moment, Bella raised herself to a sitting position. ‘But what? You must tell me if anything is wrong.’

  ‘No, Ma’am, you’ve been kindness itself to me. It’s just that once, when I was young, I had a silly dream. It’s nothing.’

  Resisting the temptation to smile, Bella nodded seriously. ‘We all dream when we are young. Tell me, how old are you, Kitty?’

  ‘Fifteen, my lady.’

  ‘And your dream, tell me about it.’

  ‘I wanted to work in a dress shop up West but now I think I’d rather stay with you.’

  ‘I’d hate to lose you, my dear, and Leonie would be heartbroken if you were to leave. You’d best go back to the nursery and make sure that she’s all right.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Kitty bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

  Bella lay back against the buttoned velvet of the chaise longue and closed her eyes. In less than a week it would be Christmas Day and the house would be full of guests; there would be luncheons and evening parties leading up to New Year’s Eve. She felt a tear slide down her cheek as she thought of the start of yet another New Year tied to a husband that she did not love. Would it be a new beginning or just the continuation of the life that she had made for herself? She adored Leonie with all her heart and soul, but the thought of a new pregnancy terrified her; it would be just another link in the chain that bound her to Desmond, and from which there was no escape. That was, unless Rackham chose to denounce her, and then there would be the inevitable scandal, disgrace, divorce and a headlong tumble back into poverty.

  When she was up and about again, Bella discovered, to her utter dismay, that Rackham had wheedled his way into Sir Desmond’s good books by paying marked attention to Iris. And Iris seemed to have metamorphosed overnight from a sharp-tongued spinster, officially on the shelf, to a simpering débutante hanging on Rackham’s arm. Bella had no alternative but to watch Rackham expertly using his charm, flattering and cajoling Iris until she was soft and malleable as melted wax. What his intentions were, Bella could only guess, but she prayed that he was looking for a rich wife. Iris was independently wealthy, having inherited a substantial sum of money from her maternal grandfather’s estate. Bella was certain that, if Rackham knew this, he would be willing to marry Iris, if only to get his hands on her fortune. She wondered if Iris knew that Rackham frequented gambling clubs, bet heavily at the races and was spectacularly unlucky at both. The thought of having Rackham as a stepson-in-law was so appalling that it made her feel physically sick, but at least it meant he would leave her alone. Even Rackham would stop short of trying to seduce his stepmother-in-law. Wouldn’t he?