Lady Polly Part 85

"I have been sketching." Polly gestured towards the easel, its paper flapping in the breeze. For some reason she felt defensive, needing to excuse her presence. And Lord Henry was displaying all his habitual careless elegance and a.s.surance, which was annoying since he had been creeping about on the beach in a most suspicious manner.

"But surely you are not alone?" Lord Henry looked round.

"Where are the others?"

"Oh, they have gone to dispense charity to the villagers," Polly said, trying not to laugh.

"Miss Dit ton is calling on the poor."

"Good G.o.d, must she?" Henry looked disgusted. "But you prefer the solitary company of your sketch book? I cannot blame you, ma'am!"

They started walking slowly along the top of the cliff in the direction of the House of Tides.

"How is Lady Laura today?" Polly enquired hesitantly. She did not wish to pry, but was very afraid that there would have been unhappy repercussions as a result of the clandestine meeting at the Fair.

Henry sighed.

"She is not at all well, I am afraid. My mother has forbidden her from ever speaking to Charles again and she has taken it very badly. Laura is young and headstrong..." He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Mama has always considered her delicate, never realising that Laura's spirit is at least as strong as her own! When I suggested at Dilling ham that you should not encourage Laura in her feelings for Charles it was not because I disapproved of the connection, but only because I knew how it could split the family! Indeed, I have tried to argue her case, but it was no use..."

He shrugged again and fell silent.

Polly felt a rush of mingled relief and apprehension. She was glad to know that Henry was not motivated by the same regard for status and consequence as his parents, but like him she could see that Laura's love for Charles Far rant would set her on a collision course.

"Will Laura accept her mother's edict?" she asked carefully.

"If not, perhaps Mr Far rant might be persuaded... But he seems as smitten as she... Oh, dear, it is so very difficult!"

Henry smiled at this masterly understatement.

"I believe both of them are in earnest and neither will waver in their regard! By far the best course would be for my parents to accept the less-than-brilliant match, but I doubt they will see matters in the same light! I believe Mama will try to send Laura away." His gaze met Polly's.

"Laura deeply regrets the way that she treated you yesterday. Lady Polly.

She would not for all the world have risked your friends.h.i.+p, but she was foolish and her head was filled with romance--' Polly made a slight gesture of dismissal.

"I understand. I would not wish to lose Laura's friends.h.i.+p either and I am sorry that she is so unhappy."

They walked on a little in silence. The breeze was freshening, whipping Polly's hair loose of its pins and tugging at her skirts.

"No doubt you too will be leaving soon, sir," Polly said, a little coolly in case Lord Henry thought that the answer mattered to her.

"Indeed, I am surprised to find you are still with us! You do not usually find our dull occupations diverting for more than a day or two at a time!"

Henry slanted a look at her. He was smiling. Polly found it most unsettling.

"Oh, I intend to be settled here for a while!" he said easily.

"And in truth, there are far more exciting things happening here than, say, at Weller den's houseparty! You would be surprised, ma'am!"

Polly felt vaguely irritated. Lord Henry always seemed to be singing the praises of Suffolk--then hurrying off to be elsewhere.

"You certainly seemed fascinated by whatever you discovered on the beach just now, my lord!" she said, a little snappishly.

"What was it? A piece of driftwood? A message in a bottle?"

"I do believe you are essaying satire. Lady Polly," Lord Henry said admiringly.

"But you should not mock me, you know! I was investigating a tale I had heard, which was that there is a secret pa.s.sageway from the House of Tides out under the cliffs. I think I may have found the entrance!

Would you like to see?"

"A secret pa.s.sageway?" Polly was curious despite herself.

"You mean--for smuggled goods?"

"No doubt that was what it was used for some years ago," Lord Henry agreed, 'although there's precious little to be gained from such a trade now that the excise duties are so reduced. I imagine the pa.s.sage to have been silted up for some time, but it is interesting, is it not?

I must ask Lady Belling ham's permission to investigate further. Would you care to see the cave entrance? " "I think not," Polly said severely.

"To go in there with you would be the utmost folly!"

Lord Henry grinned.

"Perhaps you are right, ma'am! Ah well, I see I must continue my investigations alone! And no doubt I should return you to your party now.

They must be becoming anxious of your whereabouts."

There was no sign of the others as they re trod the springy turf path back to where Polly had left her paints and paper. Lord Henry viewed her drawings with undisguised interest.

"This is very pretty," he commented, pointing to a sketch of the tumbledown cottages, their was.h.i.+ng blowing against the blue sky.

"But this..." he paused 'this has real depth and pa.s.sion. The earth colours, the texture. It is a very sensuous picture. " His gaze dwelt thoughtfully on her for a moment and Polly hurriedly covered the painting up.

It was a country picture that she had drawn a few weeks previously, a study of the fields and woods about Dilling ham, but instead of her usual pastels she had used oil paints and the effect had been startling. The rich reds and browns had given the painting a tactile quality, as though one could almost step into the picture. Polly was not quite comfortable with it.

The breeze was becoming fresher now and Lord Henry was frowning a little as he scanned the eastern horizon.

"I do believe we are in for a storm. Do you see those clouds ma.s.sing out at sea? Where are your carriages, ma'am?"

Polly turned.

"I think they must have gone down to the village to collect the others, sir.

But it is only a step. Perhaps if I follow them down--' The first drop of rain landed on her drawing paper, apparently out of the blue sky.

It was followed by another and another. The wind had suddenly become strong.

Polly bent to scoop up her scattered paints and paper and stuff them all into her portfolio. The easel blew over with a sudden crack, making her jump.