Page 54 of Henrietta

‘Oh no,’ Hetty protested involuntarily. ‘You surely would not countenance—’

‘I must,’ Arthur overrode her. ‘However much I would wish it otherwise.’

The calmness with which he pronounced this belied the depth of his unease at having to make such a step. To let ancestral land pass out of one’s grasp was as great a piece of wrongness as Arthur could fathom: one might as well sell one’s bones, one’s heart, one’s name. It was, however, the only course left open to them, and once he had understood that, there was nothing else to be done.

Hetty’s thoughts had travelled along a similar path. The deer park was as essential to Belcourt as the stones that built the house. The thought of it belonging to someone else (some shadowy figure bearing, Hetty imagined, a villainous moustache) who would do God knew what to it – why, she did not think she could bear it.

‘It is the only way Belcourt will survive,’ Arthur said bracingly. ‘I must consider that above all—’

‘Arthur, could you truly not countenance my lending you the funds you require?’ Hetty interrupted impetuously. ‘I know it does not sit well with you, but—’

‘Nor would it with any man with an ounce of honour.’

Arthur’s face had darkened, his tone warning her to tread no further down this path, but Hetty could not be silent. ‘Do you not think you could put aside your honour for the sake of – I don’t know – the greater good?’

‘That is what I am doing,’ Arthur retorted. ‘Your offer is well meant, Hetty, but I beg you will not repeat it.’

Hetty twisted her fingers in some agitation. ‘You are standing so wholly in your own path, Arthur.’

The feeling of impotency was overwhelming. What was the point of such wealth if you were not permitted to use it as you wished?

Several hot retorts sprang to Arthur’s lips, and with some effort he bit them back. ‘I realise we have become used, Hetty, to discussing matters of business freely,’ he said with forced calm. ‘Perhaps indeed too used, for I must remind you that such decisions are mine alone to make.’

He meant it as a reproof, and she took it as such. She had overstepped. After a pause, face burning, she begged his pardon. He accepted, but an uneasy silence fell in the wake of their disagreement, broken only by the sudden appearance of the Marquis.

Nicolet’s swift approach was motivated by fear rather than jealousy, for – while Arthur and Hetty had been conversing – the Grandduchess had arrived, and Lady Davenport had instantly thrust her in the direction of her nephew. Nicolet had not been able to escape without offering Her Grace a dance, but had at least been able to avoid the waltz by avowing to his aunt he had already promised his hand to his childhood friend, Miss Clithero – which he then swiftly hurried off to do.

‘Miss Clithero has just promised her hand to me,’ Arthur objected at once. The effrontery of the fellow, to request such a thing so late in the evening! Hetty deserved far better than such thoughtlessness.

‘Forsooth, Miss Clithero, the betrayal!’ Nicolet accused. ‘For you promised it to me!’

This being an invention on his part, Hetty was thrown. ‘I am sorry, I quite forgot.’

‘There will be several waltzes tonight,’ Arthur pointed out. ‘Could you not be content with the second?’

‘Can you not be content with the second?’ Nicolet demanded, trying to communicate, with his eyes, the importance of this moment to Hetty.

Quite forgetting that the entire point of this exercise was to incite just such envy in the Marquis, Arthur found himself genuinely irked. ‘Perhaps, if the matter were so important to you, you ought to have secured it sooner, my lord!’

‘How could I have done so?’ Nicolet was indignant. ‘Why, a day ago I had not even—’

‘Known if you would be attending tonight,’ Hetty interpolated quickly. She cast Arthur an apologetic glance: ‘You do not mind, do you?’

For a moment, it was on Arthur’s lips to say he did mind, thank you, but he caught himself before he could betray such incivility. Besides, he reminded himself abruptly, had this not been their aim?

‘See, it is working!’ Nicolet whispered as they began to dance. ‘Already he is beside himself with envy.’

Hetty let out a strangled laugh. ‘You were both deplorably ill mannered.’

‘If I’d had to waltz with Her Grace I should have been undone,’ Nicolet defended himself. ‘Nowhere do I show to better advantage.’

‘You wretch,’ Hetty accused him without heat. ‘You had entirely forgotten about me until it suited you!’

He begged her pardon. ‘I had lost myself in Lady Jersey’s eyes, you see. They are such a wonderful …’ He paused.

‘Blue?’ Hetty suggested. ‘Brown? Green?’

‘One of them.’ He nodded. ‘Certainly one of them.’