Part 103 (1/2)

”And,” Henry added, with the ghost of a smile, 'as long as neither of us admits that we knew of the elopement only fifteen minutes after it occurred, we may avoid any censure! ” For a moment they were drawn into a tenuous alliance. Polly felt hope and despair stir in equal measure. Was this how it was always to be, forever wanting more, hoping for more, when Henry had made it clear that he could not forgive her lack of faith in him and she had just demonstrated that she still blamed him for telling her only half a story?

It seemed heartbreaking.

”I must go,” she said, a little uncertainly.

”Mama will be wondering, and I have had no supper...”

Henry stirred a little in his chair.

”I shall bid you farewell then, Lady Polly. I am returning to London tomorrow. Perhaps you will be in Town for the Little Season?”

”Perhaps,” Polly echoed dully. She felt her spirits sink like a stone.

There would be the Little Season and then the following Season and the year after, forever in Lord Henry's company, forever set apart from him, summers in Bright on, or Bath, or Dilling ham, becoming the spinster aunt, wearing the willow forever. She swallowed hard.

”Good night, my lord,” she said.

Chapter Eighteen.

qtqtsq i here was a curious air of quiet about Dilling ham Court the following day. Both Lucille and the Dowager Countess stayed in bed resting, but Polly found herself full of a restless energy that compelled her out of doors.

After breakfast, she took her watercolours down to the lake and sat in the summerhouse trying to paint, but somehow she could not transfer the pretty pastoral scene onto her paper and tore up her efforts in a fit of temper. It seemed that she would not find solace for her broken heart through her painting.

The lake was very calm under the blue sky of early autumn, but the air was warm and the sky was heavy with gathering rain. The light was interesting and Polly was frustrated that she could not convey it onto paper. She put down her brush and leant her elbows on the railing, watching the distant clouds roll towards her. With a sigh, she pushed her paints to one side. A quiet walk was almost always enjoyable, although she would have to be careful that she did not get caught in the rain.

She took the path that skirted the lake, walking slowly down towards the River De ben. The breeze whispered softly in the gra.s.s and stirred the leaves on the trees. It seemed almost unnaturally quiet. The river was running quickly, little eddies pus.h.i.+ng at the muddy bank and lapping at the soles of Polly's shoes. She could see the roof of the fis.h.i.+ng-house a little further downstream, and wandered towards it.

The skies opened almost as suddenly as they had done that day at s.h.i.+ngle Street, and the rain began in a steady downpour. By the time Polly reached the fis.h.i.+ng- house, she was drenched and hurried towards the shelter it provided. The door swung open with one touch of her hand and, as before, she stepped into the dim interior.

Unlike the last time, the pool was empty. The mermen and mermaids watched her with blank eyes. There was total silence. Polly paused. A completely insane idea took hold of her. She had gone sea bathing with the Dowager Countess at Bright on the previous summer and had enjoyed the fresh sensation of the cool water. Of course, the pool was not like the sea, but it would be most refres.h.i.+ng and she was already soaked through.

Without further thought, she stripped off her dress and, wearing only her chemise, eased herself into the plunge pool. The chill of the water made her gasp, but once she had become accustomed to it, it was immensely invigorating. Closing her eyes, she floated on her back, listening to the drumming of the rain on the wooden roof above her head and enjoying the curious sensation of being immersed in water whilst it poured down outside.

She could feel her hair floating free of its pins and almost laughed aloud.

How delightful to feel so free from inhibition, to indulge herself, relish the sensation. She was almost happy.

She opened her eyes, gasped, swallowed what felt like a gallon of water and almost choked. Through streaming eyes she could quite clearly make out the laughing face of Lord Henry March night as he stood beside the pool looking down at her. As she struggled to regain her breath, he crouched down by the pool's edge and caught one of her arms, holding her above water.

”Dear me. Lady Polly,” Lord Henry said mildly, 'just when I thought it impossible that you could surprise me, I find myself being utterly astounded!

” To Polly's relief. Lord Henry behaved with perfect chivalry. He made no comment about her state of undress but found her a huge, soft blanket to wrap about her and cover her modesty. Then he almost undid all his good work.

”You will find me an adequate lady's maid, I am sure,” he said with a grin.

”I have had some practice at such things!”

The colour flooded Polly's cheeks and she pulled the blanket closer.

”I am in no doubt as to that!” she said tartly.