LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

make anyone a good wife, I am too independent and outspoken and I value my freedom.’

      ‘You think I should be like you?’ They had had this conversation before, but then she had not just had a proposal and that made the argument so much more cogent.

      ‘Not at all. I have never said that. You were born to be a wife and mother. I am only sorry—’

      ‘Do not be,’ Jane put in sharply. ‘We are not talking of that, but what I should do about Donald Allworthy.’

      ‘What do you want to do about him?’

      ‘I do not know. I have asked him for time to think about it, but I cannot keep him waiting, can I? It would not be fair.’

      If Anne was tempted to say Jane had not been fair to her brother, she resisted it. ‘I cannot help you make up your mind, Jane. It is your decision. I wish you happy, whatever you decide.’

      ‘Then I shall tell him to expect an answer at the end of the Season.’

      ‘You might have a better offer by then.’

      Jane laughed. ‘And pigs might fly.’

      ‘Jane, it is not the end, you know. It is not a case of Mr Allworthy or nobody.’

      ‘Anne, if you are nursing the hope that you can bring Harry and me back together, you are wasting your time.’

      The maid brought in the tea tray and Anne busied herself with the teapot and cups before speaking again. ‘They have forgiven the Duke of York, you know. He has been restored as Commander-in-Chief of the Army. It was in the newspaper today.’

      ‘What does that signify? The Prince of Wales was always close to him, closer than to any others of his family, so it is only natural that when he was made Regent, he would reinstate his brother. They are as bad as one another with their infidelities and their mistresses.’

      ‘Harry wasn’t like that, you know he wasn’t.’

      As she sipped the tea Anne had given her, the memories were crowding back, memories she had been pushing away from her for more than two years, memories resurrected by the day’s events. The newly commissioned Lieutenant Harry Hemingford in the magnificent blue-and-gold uniform of the 10th Hussars was proud as a peacock, grateful to his grandfather for buying him the commission, sure that he would make his mark on history.

      ‘Of course a lieutenant’s pay is little enough,’ he had told her. ‘But I shall soon make my way. In wartime, promotion comes fast. We shall not have so long to wait and then, my darling Jane, you will be my wife.’ And he had whirled her round and round until she was dizzy and begged him to stop.

      But she had been so proud of him. He swore he had put his wild youth behind him and had eschewed the excesses of drinking and gambling that had led him into trouble and was the reason his grandfather had packed him off into the army. ‘I have turned over a new leaf, Jane.’ For a time it seemed he had; he worked hard and waited for the call to arms. The 10th Hussars, the Prince of Wales’s Own Regiment, had been in the Peninsula at the time and he was expecting hourly to be sent out to join them.

      ‘There will be no time to arrange a wedding before I go,’ he had told her. ‘And to tell the truth, I cannot afford it. You don’t mind waiting, do you? When I come back I shall be a colonel.’ He had laughed his boyish laugh and made her smile. ‘Or even a general. Then you shall be able to lord it over all the other officers’ wives.’

      She had agreed it would be better to delay. Her father still needed her to help him with his work and she could start collecting her trousseau and thinking of her future home. But Harry’s plans had been thwarted when, in 1809, the regiment was brought back to England after a series of setbacks that resulted in the army being withdrawn from Spain and, instead of seeing action, he was left kicking his heels. It was then that everything went wrong. Jane shuddered with shame even now.

      Harry could not afford to marry her on a lieutenant’s pay and his grandfather, who had stood buff for his previous debts, would not increase his allowance. He needed promotion and in London the chances of that were slim. It was one of his fellow officers who told him that preferment could be gained through Mrs Mary Anne Clarke, the Duke of York’s mistress, and suggested he try that avenue to promotion, offering to take him to one of the many social gatherings that Mrs Clarke liked to organise. As a mere lieutenant he would not normally have been accepted in those circles, but the heir to the Earl of Bostock was a different matter. He was told to find four hundred guineas and the lady would put his name on a list she would give to the Duke, who would expedite the promotion. She pretended she could give no guarantee, though she intimated that the Duke never refused her anything.

      Harry and Anne had both been left a little money by their maternal grandfather, but Harry had very little of his left, he had told Anne. Living the life of an army officer was an expensive business and his pay and allowance from their grandfather nowhere near covered it. And he liked to give Jane little presents, and outings. Anne had given him the money without a second’s hesitation, something Jane found hard to forgive. ‘If you hadn’t let him have it, he would not have got himself into such a scrape,’ she had told her friend when the scandal came to light. ‘I did not need or expect expensive presents and if he had been honest with me I should have told him so. And I was content to wait to be married. It is ungentlemanly of him to lay the blame for his disgrace at my door.’ But Anne adored her twin and had never been able to refuse him anything it was in her power to give him and she defended not only her actions, but his as well.

      His promotion never came. The Duke had tired of his mistress and she had not taken it lying down. She had demanded a large sum of money to pay off debts she maintained had been incurred by having to live up to her position as a royal duke’s mistress; the Duke had refused to pay it and she countered by threatening to make public the details of their love affair. The wrangle had come to the attention of Parliament and it all came out in an enquiry into the behaviour of the Duke in the House of Commons at which Mary Anne Clark was the chief witness.

      Every member of that august body had listened with rapt attention to details of the love life of the King’s second son, heard his love letters read aloud and learned the names of those officers who came and went to the lady’s splendid home in Gloucester Place, among whom was a certain Lieutenant Harry Hemingford. At the end, the majority in favour of the Duke was so small he resigned as Commander-in-Chief and Harry felt obliged to follow his example. Jane was heartbroken and, encouraged by her father and Aunt Lane, had told him she could not love a man who got himself involved in such disgraceful goings on and broke off their engagement.

      Hard though it had been, she had tried to put it behind her, but now everyone seemed bent on reminding her. She had to tell Mr Allworthy, of course; you couldn’t deceive the man who hoped to marry you, but why did her aunt have to drag it up again? As for Anne, she felt very cross with her. She had promised she would not mention Harry again and it did not help to decide what to do about Mr Allworthy. Perhaps if she consented to marry him, it would put a period to the whole episode and everyone would stop prosing on about it.

      ‘I know how much you love your brother,’ Jane said. ‘And I admire you for it, but let us say no more. Tomorrow Mr Allworthy is taking me and Aunt Lane for a carriage ride in the park and I shall perhaps learn more about him then.’

      Anne sighed. ‘I can see I will never influence you, so I shall give up, but promise me you will not rush into anything.’

      Jane attempted a laugh. ‘I have no intention of rushing into anything.’

      They finished drinking their tea and Jane took her leave, wondering if she had been right to go and see Anne after all. She should have known that Anne could not be objective about Mr Allworthy, any more than her father and Aunt Lane were. She was on her own.

      She had slept badly, then worked all morning for her father until her thumb and finger were stiff from holding a pen and her head ached from trying to decipher his script. She ate a light repast and afterwards went upstairs to her bedroom where Lucy had already been dispatched and was waiting to help her change for her carriage ride. ‘What

Скачать книгу