Part 60 (1/2)

”Polly? Are you ill? I thought that you were coming with me to Lady Rout ledge's picnic?”

The light was making Polly's eyes stream. She squinted at Lucille through the brightness. There was a rhythmic pounding in her ears although she had no recollection of any major building works currently taking place on the house.

”Oh dear... I think I may be sick...”

”If I did not know better, I should say that you were foxed,” Lucille was saying severely, eyeing her sister- in-law closely.

”I had no idea that Lady Phillips's ri- dot to had been such a hotbed of iniquity! Or was it the prawn patties you ate, perhaps? Yes, so much better for it to be the prawns, I think... That is what I shall tell your Mama. I will come and see you later...”

Polly was beyond replying. She turned over and was asleep again at once.

It was the afternoon when she awoke again, feeling marginally better.

”Lady Sea grave said that I wasn't to disturb you on account of you being so sick, ma'am,” Polly's maid said sympathetically, when summoned at last by the bell.

”Can I fetch you anything, ma'am? Some food?”

A spasm of distaste crossed Polly's face.

”I think not, Jessie. Just a very large gla.s.s of water, if you please.

I have seldom been so thirsty!

And I shall get up now, I think. ” Jessie looked dubious.

”Well, ma'am, if you're sure you're ready! My brother usually takes a day to sleep off his excesses...” She caught Polly's outraged expression and dropped a submissive curtsy. A country girl from the Sea graves' Suffolk estate, Jessie had a kind heart but no tact.

”As you wish, ma'am!” she finished hastily.

”Shall you be going out?”

”Yes!” Polly snapped, suddenly anxious to refute the suggestion that she was a drunkard to rival Jessie's brother.

”We shall go to the circulating library! My lilac walking dress, please!”

Half an hour later, attired in the lilac and lace dress and with a very becoming black straw bonnet on her dark curls, Polly sallied forth into the fresh air with Jessie trotting along behind. Lucille and the Dowager Countess had not returned from the picnic, but Polly thought it unlikely her mother could object to so innocuous a plan as a trip to the library.

After all, no possible harm could befall her there.

It was pleasantly cool within and Polly spent an enjoyable time browsing amongst the shelves and choosing her books. There was something very soothing about the shadowy quiet of the library, something tranquil when Polly still felt a little disordered in both body and spirit. An elderly gentleman was dozing in a seat in the corner and two ladies were whispering together over a copy of Louisa Sidney Stanhope's The Confessional of Valombre. There was nothing to disturb the peace. Polly leant forward to pull a book from the shelf and found herself looking into a pair of sleepy grey eyes as someone selected a book from the other side at precisely the same moment as she.

”Oh!” She dropped all her books and recoiled a step, causing the two ladies to break off their conversation and hush her noisily. The gentleman came around the end of the bookcase, bent down and gravely handed her back the books of her choice.

”Good afternoon. Lady Polly,” Lord Henry March- night said.

”What are you doing here?” Polly hissed crossly, forgetful of the fact that only hours earlier she had privately resolved never to speak to him again.

He was looking immaculate in a dove-grey jacket which echoed the colour of those disturbing grey eyes and Polly felt both annoyed and ill prepared to meet him. If only she had stayed at home! The scene on Lady Phillips's terrace flashed before her eyes once more, adding to her confusion. It was the greatest piece of bad luck to be obliged to face him again so soon.

Lord Henry gestured to the two slender volumes under his arm.

”Like you, I am selecting some reading matter,” he said calmly.