Page 39 of The Book of Lost Stories
No, it would be best to steer clear of her, he decided, for fear that any attentions he might pay her be the cause of raising false expectations in her breast.
*
Later, when Harry arrived home in a state of high emotion far removed from his usual quiet good sense, Rayven wished his friend would also steer clear of Mrs Rivers; but as it turned out, the ill-starred pair had already come to the same conclusion.
‘We are agreed that we should not meet so often, for fear of causing tongues to wag and so making her situation worse. I must leave her to her fate … yet she is an angel and I am sureher husband mistreats her!’ Harry exclaimed, walking up and down the library hastily. ‘She positively shrinks away when he comes into the room, and looks so afraid.’
‘I am sorry for it, but I think you have made the right decision, Harry.’
‘Something has altered Rivers from the man I remember, Serle. You recall I told you that when he assured me there was nothing in the meetings held by his friends that might have caused Gervase to take his life, he could not meet my eye? And this from my brother’s oldest friend!’
‘Mistrust him all you will, but you would still do better to keep away from his wife.’
‘I must, although it will be anguish. And you can never have been in love, or you would know it,’ he said with a groan. ‘Serle, I long to protect her from harm, to hold her and cherish her and never let the slightest thing trouble her again.’
Rayven looked at his friend with some dismay. ‘I did not realize that it had come to this pass! I admit I have never yet felt anything of that kind, so I dare say you are right and I have never truly been in love. But it is just as well I never married one of my earlier fancies, as things turned out, for the wife of a soldier would not at all have done as the chatelaine of Priory Chase. I owe it to my heritage to choose prudently: family, lineage, estate – all must play their part in my choice.’
‘I, too. But it will be very hard, when my heart belongs to another.’ He summoned up a smile. ‘But this is mawkish talk, is it not? How did you get on with Mr Hartwood? You know, I think it the outside of enough that you should be expected to be at the beck and call of the last Lord Rayven’s old cronies!’
‘Ah, but it turns out that Mr Hartwood is related to a mutual acquaintance, Harry. He is, in fact, Miss Weston’s grandfather.’
*
Later, since both young men felt strangely restless, they went out to Mendoza’s boxing saloon, where Lord Rayven acquitted himself so ferociously well that his sparring partner was more than happy to see him leave again.
16
Bearding Lions
Cicely retreated to her remote turret, feeling at one with the menagerie of wild beasts that were kept in the east tower, wretched in their captivity.
Ravish’d by Cruel FatebyORLANDO BROWNE
Alys continued to take Pug for a brief airing every morning, before setting out to view those sights of interest recommended by her guidebook. Nell’s page, Sammy, now accompanied her as a sop to propriety, and if people still stared at her rudely, perhaps that was just the way of Londoners?
Through trial and error she had come to realize that her guidebook was a little out of date, for several of the amusements had vanished while others, like some of the pleasure gardens, had fallen out of fashion and grown sadly shabby. Also, having dutifully viewed the exterior of several imposingbuildings including the Bank of England at Cornhill, and the Royal Exchange, she felt no desire to go inside them.
On the morning of her interview with her grandfather she visited the Tower, thinking it would put her in the right mood for bearding old lions in their dens. It proved to be both gloomy and melancholy, for so many terrible things had happened within those grim walls. She also found the imprisoned menagerie of wild beasts quite sad, although Sammy declared it to have been a rare treat.
She returned in time to breakfast with Nell, then sat with her in the narrow but elegant drawing room to receive the increasing numbers of visitors who were returning to Town. So far Nell’s friends and acquaintances had not deigned to show much interest in her country friend, once they had ascertained that she was not a great heiress and claimed no illustrious relations, but she did like the Misses Berry, sisters no longer in their youth.
The liking appeared to be mutual, for the elder, Miss Mary Berry, warmly seconded by Miss Agnes, invited her to come with Nell to their next salon. When they had departed, Nell said this was a signal honour, ‘For although they are not rich, they provide no entertainment and the refreshments are meagre in the extreme, all the great, the good, the interesting, the political, the literary – oh, anyone of any interest – wishes to be seen at their salons. They are always enjoyable.’
‘Indeed? Then I should very much like to go.’
‘You will. It shall be your first public engagement and, who knows, perhaps you will then get a taste for parties.’
‘I do not think so. I believe I am starting to long for the bleak moorland already, and even the gentle bleating of sheep.But I thought the Misses Berry delightful and look forward to furthering my acquaintance with them.’
‘Of what were you talking so earnestly?’
‘Oh, they were describing how they used to visit Sir Horace Walpole’s house at Strawberry Hill, which sounds wonderfully Gothic, and that led on, of course, to a discussion of theCastle ofOtrantoand the rest of the genre. Although we share a preference for secret passages and chambers in the novels we read, I seem to be alone in likingundergroundones best.’
‘There is something very tomb-like about underground chambers,’ Nell said with a shudder, ‘and then, too, they always seem to be full of rats and spiders.’
‘Well, I have no great fondness for rats myself,’ admitted Alys, ‘although spiders I do not mind in the least.’
‘I hope you were careful not to let slip anything that might lead them to think you are an author?’
