A Little Folly Page 21

  ‘No, no. He means to go through with it. As to these proofs – well, no doubt there are always servants or hirelings ready to be bribed and say whatever he wants the court to hear. I have read of such things in crim-con cases in the newspapers.’ His brow contracted. ‘Dear God, to think of Lady Harriet paraded – publicly humiliated in that way. Well: if he insists on it, then let it be. I shall defend her reputation – clear her of the slightest stain of dishonour. I must see her at once—’

  ‘Valentine, no. – Surely that would be ill-advised just now – even playing into his hands. You had much better keep away, until – until we have taken advice.’

  His look was stormy, as if for a moment he doubted her allegiance; but then it subsided, and he nodded, flinging himself down miserably, and said: ‘I suppose so. But I hardly know where to begin.’

  Louisa thought of their aunt Spedding, and their cousins: amiable, sympathetic and well-meaning – yet for any difficulty beyond a question of etiquette, or the right length of a sleeve, scarcely to be depended upon. There was only one answer.

  ‘We must ask Mr Tresilian. He will know what to do; and we can rely completely on his confidence.’

  Valentine chewed his lip. ‘I doubt he will welcome an approach from me. We had something of a falling-out last night.’

  ‘I know: so did I. But he will put that aside for something as important as this.’

  ‘Hm. He will gloat.’

  Louisa’s own feelings about Mr Tresilian were still decidedly mixed – but she did not think gloating part of his character; and the matter was too urgent for finessing. She despatched a servant with a note to Mr Tresilian’s lodging, entreating him to call at Hill Street as soon as possible; and then made her excuses to Mrs Spedding and Sophie. – This was easy: Mrs Spedding only smiled and asked how she liked the new trimming to her hat; and Sophie chuckled slyly, and said that she hoped Louisa would not be dull, though to be sure someone might call – someone like Lieutenant Lynley – who might help pass the time.

  The name brought back the memory of their unconventional dance. Louisa could not help but sigh at it, and wish that the carefree and exhilarated spirit of that moment might return; but that, she was afraid, could not be soon expected: and when Mr Tresilian arrived and, after the briefest of salutations, took in his hand the letter Valentine wordlessly extended, the growing gravity of his expression seemed to confirm it.

  ‘How pompous,’ he said at last, tossing the letter down. ‘And what a wretched villain he is.’

  ‘At last we agree on something,’ Valentine said, very near to sullenly.

  ‘You do know what this means, don’t you?’ Mr Tresilian said, gazing levelly at them each in turn. He looked a little worn, as if he had not slept well.

  ‘It means he is prepared to expose Lady Harriet to all the notoriety of a crim-con suit,’ Valentine said hotly. ‘Expose her to a shame absolutely unwarranted. And it is unwarranted, Tresilian, before you read me another lecture—’

  ‘I don’t much care if it is or not – and neither, I suspect, does he. Colonel Eversholt is out for what he can get, Valentine. You are a man of fortune, and he sees a way of taking advantage of that. Have you heard the kind of damages the courts are awarding for crim-con lately? Ten thousand pounds is a fair rate, it seems. I remember one award not so long ago of twenty-five thousand. I do not know the state of your financial affairs and, of course,’ he set his jaw, ‘they are not my business. Perhaps you may realise such sums. But I would estimate that, even at the best, it would put you hock-deep in debt for the rest of your life.’

  Valentine was very still. ‘That is assuming the court finds against me,’ he said huskily.

  ‘Yes. Well, you like faro, Valentine, and litigation is an equally chancy bet. Then, of course, there are the costs, if you choose to contest the suit—’

  ‘Naturally I will contest it. If I do not, it is tantamount to admitting guilt – above all, Lady Harriet’s guilt. That I shall never allow – never.’

  ‘But what of Colonel Eversholt?’ Louisa said. ‘Will not bringing such a suit involve him in costs? From what Sophie tells me, he is continually distressed for funds himself.’

  ‘That’s a consideration,’ said Mr Tresilian, thoughtfully. ‘It is an expensive business for the plaintiff. It may mean, perhaps, that the threat is not as serious as it appears. On the other hand, he may intend to go to his last penny to pursue it – as there are such rich rewards if he wins.’

  ‘I still think I should go and see Lady Harriet at once – acquaint her with this outrage,’ Valentine muttered.

  Mr Tresilian drew a deep breath, and seemed to be holding back some strong expressions. ‘My dear Valentine, she will know. And there is nothing to be gained, and much to be lost, by such indiscretion now. – Understandable, and entirely to your honour though it is.’

  There was a sort of reconciliation in these words, a healing of the division of last night, which found an answer in Valentine’s softened expression. Louisa was satisfied to see it; and could dispense with any such gesture to herself, especially as she was secure in her own case of being irreproachably in the right.

  ‘I know nothing of Colonel Eversholt, beyond what I saw of him that night at Jermyn Street,’ Mr Tresilian went on. ‘Is he a man likely to make these threats idly? Is he of a character to retract, or temporise?’

  ‘He is monstrous,’ Valentine muttered.

  ‘The monstrosity we may take as read,’ Mr Tresilian said drily, and looked to Louisa.

  ‘I have met him only once. I would call him volatile – but not light-minded. Sophie might be able to tell you more.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Mr Tresilian, quickly. ‘It is best if your cousins, and your aunt, know nothing of this for the present. Of course, if it does come to a court case, they must know; and by the same token you will have to stay in town, whether here or elsewhere.’

  ‘I have no desire to leave London,’ Valentine said. ‘If I did, it would be – well, it would be slinking away with my tail between my legs.’ From defiance he sank sharply and visibly into misery. ‘Great God, I never imagined any of this. How can it be? I have done nothing wrong. Unless following the natural impulses of the heart is wrong. Well, no doubt it is. Father would certainly have told me so.’

  Louisa could not help stealing a glance at Mr Tresilian, hearing this echo of his words last night; but his face was impassive.

  ‘There is no profit in dwelling on how you got in this position,’ he said. ‘The fact is, you are in it; and we must consider every means that may get you out of it. The first thing is to speak to a lawyer – without prejudice, informally, just to see how the land lies. I know a good man in the City. Helped me out of a devilish difficulty with the bills of lading for the Cornelius. To be sure, maritime law is more his speciality; but he’s a canny fellow, and absolutely to be trusted. Come. We’ll go now.’

  Valentine, after a little protesting that he could not think straight, submitted; and Mr Tresilian bore him swiftly away. Louisa would willingly have gone with them, but there was surely nothing she could contribute; and it seemed that just now Mr Tresilian’s briskness might be of greater benefit to Valentine than her sympathy.

  Left alone, however, and relieved of the responsibility of supporting Valentine’s spirits, she was at liberty to think, and to imagine: to picture the probable consequences of this unhappy predicament, in all their most vivid and terrible colours. The scandal, embarrassment and pain of a public suit, reported in all the newspapers and the subject of every malicious tongue – the blow to Valentine’s reputation, regardless of the outcome, and how stingingly he would feel it – the worst result of an award of large damages, and the struggles it would put him through – debt, distress, insolvency, Pennacombe mortgaged or sold – the firm ground on which they had stood crumbling beneath them: all passed swiftly before her, until she was almost maddened by the contemplation of it, and her inability to do anything to change it. It was the injustice that afflic
ted her above all. – Whatever the secret truth of the matter, whatever Valentine had done or had not done, she could not conceive of its meriting this degree of punishment. Her thoughts turned towards Lady Harriet – not angrily, but pointedly. She was doubtless an unhappy woman, and it was not altogether surprising that Valentine’s charm and gallantry had operated on her to greater effect than her discretion would have advised; still, she must have known that there was some danger – must have heard a voice of caution, if she had not heeded it.

  In a moment Louisa was decided. – She would go and see Lady Harriet: not to complain or upbraid, but to hear what she had to say, and discover whether there were anything in it that might help them to a solution. It was, besides, doing something: anything was better than this helpless suspense; and she was so eager for activity that she walked to Jermyn Street, taking a wrong turning on the way, and arriving very hot and thirsty.

  Lady Harriet’s house was not difficult to find: it was tall, squeezed, soot-blackened and very forlorn in its tottering grandeur. A yawning maid admitted her, and a large ugly man, whom she took to be the brute of Mr Tresilian’s account, put his head out of a little room like a counting-house to bestow a stare on her. At last she was bidden to walk up. These, then, were the dusty stairs that gentlemen ascended to the enticements of the faro-bank; and coming to the open doors of a large saloon, she presumed this was where the business was enacted. She saw a great table, and a half-broken chandelier that gave the effect of a mouth with missing teeth, and a good many of the kind of ornate mirrors that seem designed only to become fly-blown. Probably it all looked better at night: it certainly could not look less prepossessing by day; and she found a moment to be thankful that Francis Lynley had never been drawn in by such dismal temptations as these.

  Lady Harriet, however, received her in an altogether brighter room: a small parlour, which, though faded, bore evidence of her own touch. Hastily she moved some books and fashion-papers so that Louisa might sit down; then, seating herself, she held up a white hand.

  ‘Miss Carnell – one word first. I know why you have come. Let me say that I would have given anything – anything – for this not to have occurred. And that once said, I give it over entirely to you. Whatever you wish to say, whatever reproach you wish to lay upon me, I am content to hear. You cannot think worse of me than I do.’

  ‘Lady Harriet, I do not come to reproach you – at least— I hardly know where to begin. I felt that I must see you, because of the dreadful communication Valentine has received from Colonel Eversholt. You do know the substance of it?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Lady Harriet said, with a ghostly smile. ‘I have received just such a communication. My husband seeks to pursue a crim-con suit against Mr Carnell. He tells me that he is simultaneously notifying the gentleman, as he gracefully puts it. Was the letter very insulting?’

  ‘It was … not pleasant. It could hardly be so – but then it is not the letter, you must understand, it is everything that it promises, or threatens. I am not experienced in these matters, but I am well able to understand that such an action is most serious in its consequences – even calamitous.’

  Lady Harriet nodded. She went to a side-table and poured two glasses of canary wine; then asked quietly, with lowered lashes: ‘How has your brother taken it?’

  ‘He is greatly distressed,’ Louisa said, ‘angry, indignant. – But all chiefly on your behalf.’

  Lady Harriet nodded again, biting her lip; then drew a deep breath and brought over the glass of wine. ‘And you do not come here to reproach me! You are more generous than I fear I could be in such a situation. But then – if you will allow me to say so – you are very like your brother, in all ways.’

  ‘All I seek to do is help Valentine. I cannot conceive that reproaches could do that – even if they were deserved,’ Louisa said carefully.

  ‘Oh, but they are.’ Lady Harriet drank her wine quickly. ‘The fault is entirely mine. I should never have encouraged Valentine – Mr Carnell, I should say – even to that degree of innocent friendship which appears so damning in my husband’s eyes. I was often telling him that we ought not to be on such familiar terms – that we should not be so much together – but I know I did not tell him so with sufficient force. Because my heart gave my tongue the lie. I valued his company: I felt alive again. I even felt, yes, a woman. You saw, I dare say, the room where I keep my faro-bank? Delightful, is it not? Imagine it night after night filled with dull gamers: the heaviness, the low wit and rancour and greed. Instead, there is Mr Carnell – lively and sympathetic, quite the paladin indeed; and coming there because he sought my society, not the sordid commodity I supplied.’

  ‘All the same, he has played at faro here,’ Louisa said gently, ‘and lost by it.’

  Lady Harriet shrugged. ‘It is as I said: I expect, and accept, every reproach. I may as well say that I urged him not to lay heavy stakes. But of course I should have urged him not to come at all … You said he is angry.’

  ‘Yes. Not with you: he is above all angry that your character will be defamed.’

  Lady Harriet laughed shortly. ‘Believe me, I care nothing for that. Whatever ill name my husband cares to pin upon me, let it be. But for the others involved – there I do care, greatly. There is not only Mr Carnell. Your own name will be tainted by association with such a scandal.’

  ‘Because I am Valentine Carnell’s sister?’ said Louisa, her heart swelling. ‘Why, I can imagine no circumstance in which that would ever be anything but the greatest pride to me.’

  Lady Harriet shook her head. ‘You are like him. Good and true … But I should be glad to know, Louisa, that you are in a position whereby you will lose nothing – nothing immediately precious to you, in esteem or affection – if it should come to a public suit, with all the gossip, the notoriety, the stigma that such must bring.’

  ‘Be assured of that,’ Louisa said, with Francis Lynley’s crooked, sardonic smile before her mind’s eye. ‘But you say if it should come. Lady Harriet, do you have any hope that it may not? Any intimation that your husband does not intend all that he says in this letter?’

  ‘Hope – perhaps: but I have lived on hope with Colonel Eversholt these past few years, and am like to die fasting. It was hope that kept me by him when every sensible consideration spoke against it: hope that he would – not reform or improve, but simply be again the man I married.’

  ‘You speak as if you still have some feeling for him,’ Louisa said, observing her inward look. ‘If it is so, then could you not use your persuasions with him, Lady Harriet? If approached by you, urged by you, might he not see reason?’

  ‘That is exactly what he does not see, when he is near me,’ Lady Harriet said, with a rueful smile, and a shiver. ‘And I dare say that goes for both of us. If we had ever been in a way to be rational with one another, then none of this … But I will try. He may refuse to see me: and if he is indeed set on this legal process, then he would be correct not to.’

  Louisa hesitated. ‘I wonder … if Colonel Eversholt were to hear it from your own lips that there had been – no impropriety—’

  ‘As you wish to hear it from my own lips, I think, Miss Carnell?’ Lady Harriet said, her dark eyes glittering.

  For a moment Louisa could not meet them. ‘Doubtless it is a thing we should not talk of,’ she murmured.

  ‘Oh, it will all be talked off, in great and humiliating detail, come the court case,’ Lady Harriet said, going again to the decanter. She paused, weighing the glass in her hand. ‘I will approach him, yes, Miss Carnell, you have my promise. Anything I can do to avert this … But the difficulty is, my husband will tend to see any approach from me as a move towards reconciliation. And that there can never be. Not now – now I have had my eyes opened to what the word gentleman truly means. I can never consent to have them blinded again.’

  Her assurance that she would try was given again before Louisa, refusing more wine, took her leave: she seemed in earnest, pressed Louisa’s hand te
nderly, and thanked her for her understanding. – It was something, but not enough to satisfy Louisa, who felt that Lady Harriet was still as wistfully wrapped up in the ideal of their situation as Valentine: a beautiful ideal, no doubt, but not one that the world would handle gently. Fatigued but restless, she returned to Hill Street, impatient for the return of Valentine and Mr Tresilian, and anxious lest the Speddings return first, for there would be an end of the possibility of their talking confidentially.

  There was luck: Valentine and Mr Tresilian were first, and could give her an account of their meeting with the lawyer – or, rather, Mr Tresilian could, for Valentine, after the first affectionate and even desperate squeeze of Louisa’s hand, retreated into a withdrawn and brooding temper.

  ‘He is going privately to consult with a friend, another lawyer, more experienced in these matters,’ Mr Tresilian told her, ‘just laying it out as a hypothetical case – no names. But in the meantime he suggests that a letter in reply to Colonel Eversholt’s would be expedient. Letters count for a great deal in such a case. A letter simply stating innocence of the charge – nothing humble, of course, nothing supplicating,’ he added hurriedly, glancing at Valentine standing rigid and high-shouldered at the window. ‘And adding that the respondent is prepared to meet the colonel, without prejudice, to discuss the matter, at the address of some neutral party. Nothing more than that. – I think it our best first course, as soon as it can be managed.’

  The look he gave Louisa was not lost on her; and as soon as he was gone, with promises to wait upon them tomorrow, with any new advice he could gather, she gently urged Valentine to the writing of such a letter. ‘So I will,’ was his firm reply, and he actually sat down and began it: but the arrival home of Mrs Spedding and their cousins enforced an interruption he seemed not greatly to regret. After dinner, Louisa persuaded him to his room, and to a second attempt at the communication: stood by, while trying not to stand by, as he wrote it; but very soon he threw down his pen, declared that he could not settle his mind to it, and announced his intention of going out.