Виктория Холт - It began in Vauxhall Gardens

"Come along, my dears," said Polly. "It's a sharp step to our Lucie's new home, and Madam won't expect us to be too long away. My goodness gracious me, who's this ?"

He came forward bowing. "Three ladies ... out alone! You must allow me to be your escort."

Lucie was shocked; she looked at him coldly. "We are well chaperoned, thank you, Mr. Holland."

"I'm here to look after the young ladies," said Polly. "I'm as good as any gentleman."

"Better!" he said, giving her one of his winning smiles. "I know it; you know it; the young ladies know it. But does the rest of the world know it? My dear Polly, your size belies your valiant heart, and I shall take it upon myself as a duty to accompany you."

Polly clicked her tongue and shook her head. Fermor took Lucie's hand and kissed it. Lucie softened. After all, she thought, what harm can come of it in the street ?

He then took Melisande's hand and kissed it. He kept it in his and said: "A guardian apiece. What could be better than that?"

Lucie could only walk beside Polly.

Melisande said to him as the other two stepped ahead: "You are not wanted. You know that. Have you no pride?"

"On the contrary, my pride swells to enormous proportions when I consider how much I am wanted. Polly dotes on me; so do you. As for the prim little Lucie, I have such belief in my powers that I think I can melt even her stony heart."

"I wish you would not come to the house so often."

"You would be hurt if I did not."

"I should be happier if you did not."

"But you think often of me, you must admit."

"I often think of Caroline. Is she very unhappy?"

"She is well and happy, thank you."

"Unaware of your conduct?"

"She can have nothing to complain of so far. Melisande, let us have done with this bantering. Let us be ourselves, say what is in our minds. I am in love with you ... you with me."

"No!"

"I said, let us tell the truth. Promise me to answer one question truthfully. Will you, or are you afraid to do so?"

"I am not afraid to answer truthfully."

"If I were free to marry you and asked you, would you marry me ?"

She hesitated and he said: "You promised the truth."

"I am trying to tell the truth. I think I should, but I should be very uneasy."

He laughed contentedly. "That is all I wanted to know. The uneasiness would not worry me. We should not be too easy in our minds, should we? We should be anxious ... anxious to preserve that which is so precious to us both. Melisande, for once let us not quarrel. Let us pretend that this is our home which we are going to see ... our marriage which is about to take place. Can you imagine that?"

"Perhaps," she admitted.

Here in the street it was possible to throw caution away. The pleasure of such contemplation surprised her. Here, with him beside her, it was so easy to believe in.

He had slipped his arm through hers. It did not matter. Polly was going on ahead with Lucie. Besides, Polly would only have said: "The daring young man!" and she would have said it indulgently. Like her mistress she had a fondness for daring young men.

He looked down at her; she looked up at him; longing and love was in their eyes. They said nothing. It was wonderful to have such moments as these, thought Melisande; to step right out of the world of reality into the world of the imagination. There was no Caroline in this world; Fermor was himself, yet becomingly different. They were two lovers on their way to visit their new home.

He sang softly so that only she could hear, and the song he sang was wistful and tender, simple and moving:

"O, wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,

Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'."

If they could have walked on through the streets of London for ever like that, how happy she would have been!

They turned into that street in which stood the charming little house which was to be Lucie's home, and as they did so suddenly the spell was broken.

It was a moment of horror for Melisande. She had turned, sensing that they were being followed, and so she saw the woman who was walking behind them and might have followed them since they left the house in the square. For one moment Melisande's eyes met a pair of bright malevolent ones. Wenna was in London with Caroline, and Wenna had come to spy on her and Fermor.

She shivered and looked quickly away.

"What is it?" said Fermor.

She looked over her shoulder, but Wenna was not to be seen.

"I ... I saw Wenna," she said. "She must have followed you."

"That old horror!"

"She will tell Caroline that she has seen us together."

"What of it? How could I refuse to escort you and your friends?"

"I don't like her. She makes trouble. She hates me."

"She hates me too. She makes no secret of it. She clings to Caroline like a leech and snarls at me like a bulldog."

"I am frightened of her."

"You? Frightened of an old woman ... a servant!"

"After to-day you must not come to see me any more."

"Let 'after to-day' take care of itself."

They stepped into the hall of the little house. It was in process of being prettily furnished, and Lucie went from room to room in delight, calling attention to the carpet which had been delivered and laid in the drawing-room, asking them to admire the ormolu mirror—Madam Fenella's advance wedding present.

But looking into the mirror, Melisande seemed to see Venna's brooding face looking at her threateningly. She felt that Wenna had followed her, watched her, seen this love of hers for Caroline's husband trembling on the edge of surrender.

Then she knew that this must be her last meeting with Fermor.

So Lucie was married.

Fenella was pleased. Lucie's wealthy parent was pleased. Lucie was settled in life, and this was another triumph for Fenella. More ladies and gentlemen would put their bastard children in her charge, since the stigma attached to those children made it impossible for them to be launched through the usual channels. Fenella was doing such a useful service.

Fenella, the fabulous, the incredible and the mysterious, might be a product of an earlier era when life was lived in a more colourful manner; but the new era had scarcely begun, and Fenella would flourish for many a day as yet to come.

At the wedding the bridegroom's best man was Andrew Beddoes— a serious, quiet young man who selected Melisande for his attentions and stayed by her side during the drinking of toasts.

He was pleasant and courteous and seemed such a contrast to Fermor that she was glad of his company.

He talked of his friendship with the bridegroom, of their profession, of the luck of Francis Grey, who was as happy as a man could be.

Melisande liked him for his warm appreciation of Lucie's bridegroom.

He talked interestingly of his hopes for the future. Francis was going ahead. Mr. Beddoes was certain that he would succeed with Lucie to help him. In such a profession a man needed a wife, and a wife like Lucie could help so much. There was a great deal of entertaining to be done. Lucie was so poised, so elegant and so modest, and yet completely confident.

"You speak as though you are in love with Lucie yourself," said Melisande.

"No," he said gravely, "not with Lucie." He smiled and said how kind Melisande was to listen to him.

"But I am so interested. I hope you will be as lucky as Francis Grey."

"I hope that too," he said.

After the wedding she saw more and more of Andrew Beddoes.

He came often to the house, where Fenella welcomed him with special warmth. She allowed him to walk with Melisande in the Park with the newly married pair as chaperons.