Lord Hadleigh's Rebellion. Paula Marshall

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      ‘Oh, Shakespeare!’ She pouted. ‘I was taken to see Macbeth in my come-out year. What a disappointment! Everyone was ranting at everyone else and people were being killed on stage. I wonder that anyone should pay to go to see such dreadful things.’

      She ended with a delicate shudder and a widening of her blue eyes. ‘On the other hand, I quite liked As You Like It when they made it into a pantomime. The clowns were so funny, much better than all that boring talk. Have you visited the Prince Regent’s home at Brighton? They say it is most fantastic. I confess that I was greatly surprised when I was presented to him. He was so fat and ugly—and so old. I cannot abide old men and women.’

      ‘Yes,’ Russell said, ‘I have visited the Pavilion and quite like it. As for the Regent being old, I fear that, if we live long enough, we all come to that in the end.’

      Angelica’s shudder was a prolonged one this time. ‘Pray do not let us speak of it. Tell me, have you read The Secret of Harrenden Castle? Now there is a horrid book which I do like—you never actually see the bodies in it.’

      So this was the woman whom his father wished him to marry! Had he given up his lively Caroline for this vacuous young thing? He thought of his brother’s wife Pandora with her frank ways and her keen interest in everything about her. Now there was a treasure if there ever was one, even if she were something of a surprising treasure for quiet Ritchie to have won.

      Angelica, who, to give her her due, was finding it as difficult to talk to Lord Hadleigh as Lord Hadleigh was finding it difficult to listen to her, gave up at this point. Why did her papa wish her to marry this dull old man? She had imagined that he might be a jolly fellow like Perry and his friends, but no such thing. He was as solemn as a judge and as dreary as the parson on Sunday morning when he was droning on and on in his sermon.

      All in all, it was a great relief for them both when the dinner ended and the ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their cigars and their port. But not before Russell, the devil prompting him, had leaned sideways to whisper in Mary’s pretty little ear, ‘Are you finding all this as tedious as I am?’

      Mary, who had been as bored by Perry as Russell had been by his sister, said sharply, ‘Indeed not, and if I were it would be a gross insult to our hosts’ hospitality to say so.’

      Russell bowed his head and murmured, ‘Rightly rebuked. You were always much more aware of the niceties of life than I was.’

      ‘Was I, m’lord? I fear that I have quite forgot the details of any conversations which we might once have had,’ and she turned away from him to address Perry again, as though to speak to him was wearisome.

      The anger which seemed to overcome Russell these days was upon him again. He murmured to her back, ‘Now, madam, that I do not believe, nor should you ask me to believe it.’

      Mary’s head swung sharply round. ‘What you might believe, m’lord, is a matter of total indifference to me. Pray allow that to terminate our conversation,’ and she turned away from him again to address a bemused Perry.

      ‘I had not understood that you were so well-acquainted with Lord Hadleigh, Mrs Wardour.’

      ‘Once, long ago,’ she replied as carelessly as she could, and, more to punish Russell than because she wished to ingratiate herself with Perry Markham, added, most graciously, ‘Pray call me Mary, Mr Markham.’

      ‘Only if you will address me as Perry,’ he responded gallantly.

      Angelica had found the young Honourable Thomas Bertram, known by his friends as the Hon. Tom, to be a more amusing dinner companion than Russell, who now whispered into Mary’s ear, ‘If we are all to be so informal, Mrs Wardour, then you might oblige me by calling me Russell—as you once did.’

      She swung round again, to murmur under her breath so that Perry might not catch what she was saying, ‘Certainly not, you forfeited that right long ago. Pray cease to badger me: it is not the act of a gentleman to twit a lady so mercilessly.’

      Well, that was that, was it not? And Russell, who was already regretting his baiting of Mary, said slowly, ‘I apologise, Mrs Wardour, but the temptation to address you as I might once have done was too great for me.’

      How dare he? How dare he after he had treated her so lightly all those years ago! Mary turned away from him for the last time, saying, ‘I would be extremely happy, m’lord, if you refrained from addressing me at all,’ and gave Perry her whole attention for the rest of the dinner.

      She would not be drawn into conversation with him, not now, or ever again. He deserved nothing from her, and nothing was all that he would get. She had done her duty to her hosts by speaking to him at all and from this evening onward she would be careful to avoid his company.

      Russell ate the rest of his dinner in silence and it might as well have been straw that he was consuming. Angelica offered him the odd word now and then, and it was a great relief when the meal ended, the ladies retired, cigars were offered, and the port began to circulate.

      Talk became general, and, as Mary had earlier thought, the men being alone together it became unbuttoned. The younger men at the bottom of the table began to talk prize-fighting, their seniors, politics. Russell, caught between the two, said nothing.

      Presently Perry, avoiding his father’s eye, leaned forward and said to his fellows, sub rosa, as it were, ‘To avoid the stifling dullness of the Leicestershire countryside in spring I have two diversions to offer you, gentlemen. Tomorrow a Luddite is to be hanged at Loughborough for an attempt on the life of a local mill-owner. I thought that we might make up a party and compare how these matters are organised in the country compared with those in town.

      ‘On the following day there is to be a mill not far from here between two bruisers, both from London. One is Sam Tottridge, who gave Tom Cribb a hard time before he lost—and Tom’s a tough customer, being champion of England. T’other is a man of colour, known as Yankee Samson because he comes from some godforsaken corner of the States. What say we make up another party to watch that? I’ll run a book on the match if that is agreeable to you all.’

      He turned to Russell, who had sat there quietly trying to make his one glass of port last until it was time to join the ladies. ‘How about you, Hadleigh? Are you game?’

      ‘Not for the hanging,’ said Russell as coolly as he could in an effort not to give offence to his host’s son. ‘I find no pleasure in watching a man being strangled to death to the cheers of his fellows, particularly when the man in question is a poor devil who has lost his livelihood. As for the boxing match, I shall decide that on the day. I prefer to put the gloves on myself occasionally rather than applaud a man who does it for me.’

      ‘Oh, well, suit yourself, Hadleigh. Tottridge is worth watching, believe me, and the black has a good reputation, too. As for murdering Luddites, I beg to disagree with you there. Hanging’s too good for them. Not turning parson, are you?’

      It was plain that Perry Markham had drunk more than he ought. Russell smiled. ‘Not at all. Merely growing old, I suppose.’

      ‘Doesn’t seem to take others that way. Never mind, though. You can always stay at home with the ladies and play back-gammon and help to wind their wool for them.’

      Several of Perry’s hangers-on laughed sycophantically at this. Russell merely smiled, and answered him, again pleasantly, ‘What a splendid notion, Markham. I thank you for your suggestions on how to pass СКАЧАТЬ