Page 20 of The Book of Lost Stories

Nell smiled. ‘Perhaps some man may yet persuade her to leave off her single state, who knows?’

When they left, Lady Chibberly managed to carry off Captain Stavely with them, for she was always keen to throw her girls in the path of eligible young men.

As soon as he quitted the room, Nell seemed to grow suddenly pale and extinguished again. ‘There, were not Lady Chibberly and her daughters pleasant, Alys? But I fear their chatter has left me with a headache, so perhaps I will go and lie down for a while.’

‘I think more than a headache ails you, Nell,’ Alys said gently. ‘I do not wish to pry into what does not concern me, or force a confidence you do not want to give, but something is amiss. It is my fear that your marriage, which started out so happily, is now in difficulties.’

‘Oh, Alys, I know I should not burden you with my troubles, but I feel I must talk to someone or go quite demented!’ Nell cried.

Then she cast a frightened look at the closed study door and whispered, ‘I never know when George is in the house or not these days, although mostly he is not. Come up to my bedchamber.’

Once there she sank down on the carved bed, her face anguished.

‘You have guessed right. I am deeply unhappy, for George has slowly changed towards me and his whole character now seems so different from the man I married. I expect marriage bored him after a while, and most married couples do seem to spend much of their time apart, but I did not think George and I …’

Alys sat next to her and, taking her hand, patted it kindly. ‘I know your marriage was arranged by your family, yet you told me yourself that they would not have proceeded with the idea had you not been willing to marry Mr Rivers.’

‘No, indeed, and I felt a decided partiality from the moment I set eyes on him, and he – he said he fell in love with me instantly, too.’ She gave a stifled sob and, pulling out a tiny scrap of cambric edged with lace, dabbed at her eyes.

‘I am quite sure he was in love with you, Nell, for when you came north and paid a call at the Dower House you were the picture of married happiness, and Miss Grimshaw and I were so pleased to see it. I cannot imagine what could have caused him to change, but I have myself overheard him speak roughly to you on several occasions.’

‘I believe it is all the fault of his persuadable nature: he was quite wild in his youth, you know, but when he proposed he promised he had reformed his ways and would be an exemplary husband. And so, at first, he was. But slowly he was drawn back into the circle of his old friends – Gervase Stavely was also one of that set – although mainly I put it all down to Lord Chase’s influence. ’

‘Yes, I recall you mentioning him in one of your letters. What is he like?’

‘Much older, and there is just something evil about him … Alys, do you remember when George told me that he and his friends met together regularly, because they had formed a society?’

‘Yes, and I thought it was probably just one of the kind my cousin James used to frequent: science and mystery for the credulous. He was forever conducting odd little experiments into magnetism and alchemy, but his intellect was never equal to the calculations behind them.’

‘I thought so too, only then I discovered that this society’s purpose was something far worse,’ Nell said.

‘One evening George insisted we attend a ball at Lord Chase’s house near Kew.

I did not wish to go for I knew the company would be very mixed.

Lady Crayling was there, for instance, and she is very vulgar and by no means received everywhere, but her husband is a member of Chase’s set.

And your relative Nathaniel Hartwood is, too, although he is so kind and charming that I am sure he cannot be in too deeply. ’

‘I suppose a man may have all kinds of friends,’ Alys said. ‘But do go on; this grows exciting.’

‘After most of the guests had left, George sent me home in the carriage alone, with no explanation other than that he and his friends were to hold one of their mysterious meetings.’

‘That was strange behaviour indeed, Nell.’

‘Yes, you can imagine how astonished I was, and how little I relished driving back into London at that hour alone, despite the full moon. When I ventured to ask another lady, whose husband had also stayed behind, what might this society’s interests be, she said she had learned from experience that it was better not to enquire too closely what they did, and she would advise me to do the same. ’

‘So you do not know what the real purpose might be?’

Nell leaned forward until her fair head was practically touching Alys’s chestnut curls and whispered thrillingly, ‘I believe – I have since gathered – that it is something along the lines of the infamous Hellfire Club !’

This disclosure fell rather flat, until Nell explained that this notorious society had met in the last century under the auspices of Sir Francis Dashwood for unnamed and probably unholy rites, licentious and bawdy behaviour and various undisclosed excesses.

‘Apparently he had caverns and chambers excavated to hold these … these orgies in, and they even practised the Black Arts, some say.’

‘Good heavens! And, you know, I do recall my Aunt Basset mentioning something of the kind. She corresponded with Lady Crayling, for they used to be on the stage together, and she let fall hints in her letters that she was involved in a similar society. The Brethren, I think she called them.’

Nell nodded. ‘The very same. I am not supposed to know that, only rumours do go around. Some whisper of lewd behaviour, rituals and even sacrifices .’

‘Sacrifices?’ Alys said, startled. ‘Of what?’

‘Cockerels. Their throats are cut and they drink the blood .’ Nell shuddered.

Alys sat back and looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘It is very hard to believe George could involve himself in anything so vile.’

‘I, too, found it hard to believe, but when I pressed him for an explanation he said it was merely harmless fun, but he was under oath not to tell me or anyone else what they did. And he is not himself in the least after these meetings: heavy-eyed and cross, and … and dismissive , as if he knows some great secret I do not.’

‘Do they always meet at Lord Chase’s house?’

Nell nodded. ‘Underground, rumour has it, for Templeshore House is old and there is a passage leading from the river via some ancient chambers, into the cellars of the house. Indeed, there is a Roman mosaic floor in one of the cellars, which Lord Chase shows to visitors, and a shell grotto decked out with strange devices.’ She shivered. ‘How horrible it all sounds!’

Actually, having a liking for such things, Alys felt she would love to see the ancient chambers, and especially the mosaic floor, but refrained from saying so.

‘I have refused to enter Lord Chase’s house since … and I now go everywhere alone,’ Nell added forlornly.

‘Not quite alone, it seems to me, since Harry Stavely sold out of the army and returned home,’ Alys said in rallying tones. ‘Clearly he has been dancing attendance on you in Cheshire this past winter, and means to do the same in London.’

Nell blushed. ‘He is a good friend, nothing more.’

‘No, I know you too well to think otherwise, but I could tell how much you liked him, Nell – and indeed, he seems very pleasant – so you must be careful.’

‘I am a married woman and, however George may treat me, I still mean to honour my marriage vows,’ Nell said with dignity.

‘I know George to be unkind to you, but he is surely not violent ?’

Nell shivered. ‘He is unkind to me in ways which I cannot tell to you – in intimate ways. He often does not seem to be himself on these occasions, for his eyes are quite strange, and he is always sorry afterwards if he is cruel to me. But that is not a great deal of consolation,’ she added forlornly.

‘No, I should think not!’

Alys said what she could to comfort her friend, but in truth there was little Nell could do but bear her lot with fortitude. Her husband might mistreat her as he liked, but she could not leave him for another without totally cutting herself off from all contact with honour, friends and family.

‘What you have said simply goes to reinforce my long-held determination never to marry and entrust myself to the tyranny of a male, Nell.’

‘But at first I was very happy, and perhaps had I had the advice of a mother … or had the consolation of children, I might have managed better, and prevented George from falling again under such bad influences.’

‘I do not think you can hold yourself to blame in any way, for it must surely be the influence of his friends, although the Brethren may not be doing anything so very bad. The rumours that have reached you might be only the inventions of malicious tongues, and if their meetings are just an excuse to carouse away from censorious eyes, George will surely eventually tire of such silly pursuits and mature into a man of sense.’

*

Leaving her friend to rest on her bed before dinner, the hartshorn in one hand and a handkerchief moistened with lavender water over her brow, Alys went to her bedchamber and sat down at her little desk.

She had already begun to outline a new book about a penniless orphan cast adrift upon the world, the title of which was to be Death or Dishonour , and now she was inspired to lend it a sinister tone.

Her heroine, Drusilla, might be in the power of a cruel and rakish man who knew she was really the heiress to a fortune, yet professed to be rescuing her from her dire situation.

He would be a distant relative, who might seem fair and good, the gentle knight riding to her rescue, yet be black-hearted in truth.

Seemingly out of the goodness of his heart, he would engage her as a companion for his wife, whom he had driven mad with terror of him …

Yes, she could quite see that last scene: the fair, delicate young wife rendered witless with fear of one who, in public at least, behaved to her with forbearing courtesy and affection.

She scribbled away furiously until it was time to dress for dinner, for she could not seem to resist reflecting the events and tribulations around her, although much altered, of course. Perhaps all authors did so? She determined, if Mrs Radcliffe would receive a visit from her, to ask her.

But she hoped she might find a route of escape for her heroine other than death or dishonour, even if not for poor Nell, constrained by the realities of life.

That night Alys woke from a nightmare in which she was struggling against some dark force that weighed down on her both physically and mentally.

Sitting bolt upright, panting, the revelation came to her in a moment of clarity that all her heroines were struggling to escape from some form of monstrous tyranny, even if only that of a selfish, but benevolent father, but there was no escape, only the exchange of one form of tyranny for another.

Feeling oppressed she got out of bed and opened the window on to the street, at this hour briefly and mercifully silent, and wished she could soar free above the rooftops like a bird.