Death at the Wedding Feast Part 10

She gave him a smile. *Serves her right,' she said. *She's the biggest gossip ever born and always knows everybody's business before they have even thought of it themselves.'

*Now, now,' he said. *The quality of mercy is not strained.'

The Marchesa gave a humourless laugh. *Indeed not. But it can come under a great deal of pressure.'

And John, remembering how her first child had died in the horrors of an opium den and how she had exacted punishment on those responsible, suddenly felt sorry for her and for a moment came near to understanding her overwhelming love for the twins and how she insisted on bringing them up single-handedly.

He felt Felicity at his elbow as the Marchesa wandered off.

*Good evening, Mr Rawlings. Is this not an elegant ensemble?'

*Very. But I know so few people. Perhaps you could tell me who one or two of them are.'

*Gladly.' Her eyes swivelled round the room. *Well, there's Lord St Austell's younger grandson, George Beauvoir. Isn't he handsome? Mind you, they say he is a reckless blade. But he has a certain charm, would you not agree?'

*He's certainly of very good appearance. But does his character match his looks?'

*I shouldn't think so for a minute,' Felicity said a and gave rather a sorrowful little giggle.

John did not add that he had last seen George engaged in a tavern brawl with Freddy Warwick. *And who's the young woman talking to him?'

*Oh that's Lady Imogen, his sister. She's a very sweet person a or at least so I am told.'

*Ah,' said John thoughtfully. He had recognized her on the instant. She was the woman he had seen in the apothecary's shop, the one he believed to be pregnant. And running his practised eye over her he thought that he could indeed see the first signs of a rounding. If he were correct then heaven help the girl. She would get no quarter from her grandfather and probably be sent away and her child handed to some wretched foster mother. Then she would come home to live a life of shame and misery and daily reminding of her terrible sin.

At that moment Lady Imogen looked directly at the Apothecary and he bowed courteously whilst she in return dropped the smallest curtsey imaginable. This led him to wonder if she were in fact conceited and full of the grandness of her station in life. He watched her say something to her brother who also looked in John's direction. The Apothecary could not resist it. He bowed, waved and grinned like a lunatic all at one and the same time. George glowered, then changed his mind and approached.

*How do, Mr Rawlings? That is your name, isn't it?'

*It is, and it please your lordship.'

George looked slightly surprised. *Last time I saw you I was brawling in a tavern, I believe.'

*Knocking the living daylights out of one Freddy Warwick.'

*Never could abide the fellow. Yet he seems to shadow me. Trouble is that we both belong to the same social set so he has this awful habit of turning up wherever I am. See, there he is now. Talking to that fascinating woman with the scarred face. Dying to meet her but so far our paths have not crossed.'

John turned his head and saw Freddy deep in conversation with the Marchesa.

*She's the Lady Elizabeth di Lorenzi,' George continued. *I believe she married some d.a.m.n Eyetie, hence the funny name. D'you know, I've always been captivated by older women. By G.o.d, I wouldn't mind going for a gallop with her, I can tell you. I bet she'd give me the ride of my life.'

The Apothecary actually felt the colour leave his cheeks. *Be very careful, Sir. You are speaking of my mistress.'

George turned on him a look of total surprise. *Really? Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned. By the way, who's your tailor?'

John was rendered utterly speechless by the incongruity of the question and just stared at the fellow, who by now was grinning like a cat.

*That's beside the point,' he said eventually.

*Oh, I wouldn't say that,' answered George, who was clearly having the time of his life. *His workmanship looks d.a.m.ned good to me. I'll wager he dwells in London.'

*Yes, Sir, he does.'

*d.a.m.n fine. Well, I must be off. Got to pay my respects to Sir G.o.dfrey. Au revoir.'

And he sauntered away without a backward glance. John was just about to rejoin the subject of the recent conversation when he felt a small tug at his elbow and looked round to see the beautiful Miss Cordelia Clarke regarding him.

*Oh Mr Rawlings, how nice to see you again. Is this not an elegant gathering? And it is so wonderful to make your acquaintance once more.'

John bowed very deep, then raised her small gloved hand to his lips. *The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Clarke.'

She blushed divinely and John thought what a sweet and attractive girl she was. And at that moment two people bore down on him simultaneously: the formidable Lady Bournemouth, clearly chaperoning Miss Clarke, and Elizabeth with a wary look in her eye. John bowed again to them both.

*Oh do present me, Sir,' said Miss Clarke. *I have admired the Lady Elizabeth from afar for an age.'

Lady Bournemouth interrupted. *My turn first, my child. Mr Rawlings, pray introduce me to your companion. I saw you together when you arrived.'

John turned to the Marchesa. *Lady Elizabeth, allow me to present Lady Bournemouth to you. She is held in very high regard by Sir Gabriel, with whom she plays cards.'

They bobbed curtsies at one another and the older woman said, *How de doo? It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Elizabeth. And now may I introduce you to my late sister's granddaughter? A very dear child. Cordelia Clarke.'

*I cannot think how we have not met before,' Elizabeth answered, giving a grand curtsey to Cordelia. *What a lovely girl you truly are.'

Miss Clarke blushed becomingly once more. *I am so thrilled to be presented at last, my Lady. I often ride past your house and look at it admiringly.'

*Well, next time you must come in, my dear.'

But this conversation got no further because at that moment Freddy Warwick joined the group, bowing magnificently to all the ladies in turn. Finally he stopped, fixed on John a look that beseeched him not to say a word about the fight in the tavern, and said, *How nice to see you again, Sir.'

Yet it was obvious, even at this stage, that Freddy had eyes only for Cordelia and had joined the group with the express purpose of talking to her. Having made his greetings to the other ladies he turned to the object of his desire.

*How nice to see you again, Miss Clarke. Did you enjoy your visit to London?'

*Oh yes, thank you, Mr Warwick. I met some most interesting people.'

*More interesting than the people one meets on the Exeter social scene I don't doubt.'

*Oh yes, far more.'

Her eyes were sparkling and she seemed full of fun a and John, regarding her, thought, young and innocent though she might be, she was quite enjoying putting this youthful admirer through a little bit of torture.

*But surely,' he replied with spirit, *you did not attend anything as grand as this rout. I mean the betrothal of a peer of the realm is something to celebrate for sure.'

She drew his head down and whispered in his ear. He listened and then burst out laughing.

Lady Bournemouth drew herself up. *Cordelia, whispering in public is considered the height of ill manners. Were you at home I would send you to your room. Apologize to Lady Elizabeth and Mr Rawlings immediately.'

Miss Clarke dropped her eyes to hide the fact she was bubbling with mischief, and dropped a penitent curtsey. *Please forgive me, Marchesa, Mr Rawlings a it's just that I have known Freddy for ever and a day. I'm sorry, I mean Mr Warwick.' Having said this she burst into a fit of giggling in which Freddy joined.

John was delighted. It seemed that this young couple had found the ability to laugh together, which was something he considered very important. Lady Bournemouth huffed angrily but saw the amus.e.m.e.nt in Elizabeth's expression and condescended to smile. So they were standing, a little group clearly enjoying themselves, when a shadow fell over them. Looking up, John saw the Earl and Miranda clearly waiting to be addressed.

In that moment, before a word was spoken, John regarded the elderly bridegroom-to-be and actually felt physically repelled. It was as if the man's soul had been dragged out, leaving a husk with cold blue-ice eyes with which to glare at the rest of mankind. And what eyes they were. It was like looking at an Arctic landscape and feeling the chilling gale blow, like gazing on a terrain where the sun never shone. Despite himself, John looked away.

St Austell stood there in silence, obviously considering himself too high up the social scale to start any kind of conversation. It was Elizabeth who saved the day. She swept a small curtsey, with much rustling of her gown, and said, *We meet again, Lord St Austell. To remind you, I am Lord Exmoor's daughter. May I congratulate you on your forthcoming marriage. And you, Miranda, I wish you every happiness.'

St Austell stared at her and John could have sworn that a glimmer of salacity moved in the depths of those terrible eyes. Then he spoke.

The Apothecary had been expecting a deep boom but instead the voice rasped, almost painfully. *How dee do, Lady Elizabeth? I trust you are keeping well. You may present your friends to me.'

Elizabeth did not meet John's eye as she introduced Lady Bournemouth, who made much of curtseying to a peer of the realm, sweeping very low and then having some difficulty in rising again. Thankfully her great niece offered an arm and an embarra.s.sing situation was avoided. John made a short bow and muttered his congratulations. On the one occasion he looked at the Earl it was to see the slightest of sneers upon his face.

Cordelia and young Freddy Warwick had obviously met the man before and all they had to do was to congratulate him and wish Miranda well, it being considered the height of bad manners to offer congratulations to the bride as if she had finally achieved her objective. This done, there was a short silence into which Miranda spoke.

*I can't tell you how happy I am,' she said gushingly, linking her arm through that of her future husband. *Montague is so good to me. I dare not tell you or I think all you ladies will be jealous.'

Neither Elizabeth nor Cordelia smiled, but Lady Bournemouth let out a high-pitched t.i.tter. John caught Freddy's eye and they exchanged a glance. But George Beauvoir was making his way towards them at which young Mr Warwick, running his fingers over the back of Cordelia's hand in a gesture that no one was meant to see, made a hasty exit.

*Well, Grandpa, how are you doing?' George asked, bowing laconically as he did so.

*I am doing very well,' rasped the other.

*Surrounded by beautiful women as usual.'

*This is not the place for that sort of remark.'

*Sorry, Sir.' George paused, then said, *Good G.o.d, here comes Falmouth. I thought he was still in town.'

John turned his head to see who they were regarding and scarcely recognized the figure that was coming towards him. Previously it had had its nose in a book and had appeared to be slightly subnormal, to say the least. Now it was wearing a well-tailored black taffeta suit and was striding along with a smile on its face; however, it still had the huge pair of gla.s.ses hiding the eyes.

*Ladies and gentlemen,' said St Austell in that grating rasp, *may I introduce my elder grandson, Viscount Falmouth. He has just returned to us from the city of London.'

Lady Bournemouth contemplated another deep curtsey but, remembering the last occasion, thought better of it and gave a small bob.

John Rawlings bowed then stared at the fellow. *I believe we have met before, Sir.'

*Have we?' asked Falmouth vaguely.

*Yes, Sir. You came into my shop in Shug Lane and I served you. Do you remember?'

*By Jove, yes I do. Well, how the devil are you?'

*I am very well indeed,' answered John a and gave a crooked smile.

Fourteen.

Afterwards, when John was sipping a gla.s.s of champagne and standing alone, having wandered off to a window to gaze at the plunging sea below, he recalled that recent time in his shop in Shug Lane when Maurice, Viscount Falmouth, had come in, presenting himself as an absent-minded human being ordering strengthening potions for his poor old grandfather. How different he seemed today, alive and full of energy, though still clearly short-sighted. And, furthermore, could it really be true that the terrifying Earl needed aphrodisiacs, regardless of the fact he was in his seventy-third year? John knew that time could take its toll, but surely not from so fierce and vital a creature as St Austell. He had a sudden mental picture of the man crushing Miranda beneath him and despite the warmth of the day found himself shuddering.

A movement at his elbow brought his attention back to the present and he saw that Lady Sidmouth stood there, an oddly comic figure in her fine array.

*I saw you shake, my friend. May I ask what caused it?'

*I don't know, Madam. Perhaps a goose walked over my grave.'

And this remark made him think of that chilly warning given to him by his daughter, that strange little sprite who loved him so dearly. Looking round the room it seemed to John at that moment that the crowd gathered therein had somehow developed a sinister aspect. Everyone had a cruelty, a hardness about their features, even the Marchesa had become like a mask in a carnival, blank and uncaring.

Without thinking, John heard himself say, *What is your opinion of the Earl?' a question he would never have dared ask directly had he not been in such a strange mood.

He felt Lady Sidmouth draw close. *He is a monster,' she answered.

Startled, the Apothecary looked at her. *Then why did you permit the marriage?'

She looked up at him from her half-closed eyes, and what he could see of her pupils were glazed and dull. *I could do nothing to stop it. Miranda is merely a cousin. The poor girl's mother is dead and her father remarried to some uncaring wretch. She is twenty years old and she insisted that she had her way. Filled me up with some poppyc.o.c.k tale of being in love. With that ogre! But I think they deserve each other. The only thing that worries me is that he enjoys depths of depravity of which poor Miranda knows nothing.'

*Could you not tell her that?'

*I tried, believe me. I spoke to her more frankly than is common between guardian and ward but she would have none of it. Told me that I was mistaken and to say no more. Quite honestly, Mr Rawlings, I have had to give up arguing for the sake of my sanity and my daughter, Felicity.'

She let out a sudden suppressed sob and John instinctively put an arm round her shoulders. *My dear Lady Sidmouth, you have clearly done your best and I am sorry that I said what I did. Miranda has always struck me as a self-willed girl and now, having made her bed, she can lie in it.'

*Which I believe she will with some enjoyment,' Lady Sidmouth answered sadly, and walked away with sloping shoulders.

Their conversation was at an end and John was on his way to rejoin Elizabeth when that extraordinary young man, Viscount Falmouth, bore down on him. John was about to make him a bow when Falmouth said, *Don't bother with that, I beg you. It is I who should be bowing to you.'

Startled, the Apothecary replied, *Why, my Lord?'

Falmouth gave him a good-natured grin and John saw that beneath his ugly gla.s.ses, beneath his rather other-worldly expression and his general air of bookishness, there lay a very handsome fellow indeed. His white wig enhanced his strong features and when one peered one could see a pair of dazzling green eyes, currently hidden by that unattractive pair of spectacles.

*Because I came in and asked for . . . well, you know.'

*For something to help your grandfather on his wedding night?'answered John directly. *I should say a judging by his general demeanour a that he would need no such thing.'

Maurice Falmouth laughed. *I think perhaps I was a little previous with my request. I must admit that he looks hale and hearty enough to me now that I see him. You see, I was reading a book about an older man getting married again and failing miserably, if you understand my meaning, and that was what had me wandering into your shop and asking for your help.'

The Apothecary thought that it was a reasonable enough explanation for someone who had his nose in a novel most of the time, but had no chance to think anything more about it for at that moment George came bounding up, punching Maurice jovially on the shoulder.

*How did you enjoy London, you b.u.g.g.e.r?'

*Very well. It was dirty and smelly but of good cheer.'

*I'm glad to hear it. Did you manage to meet any rum d.u.c.h.esses?'