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Club would, the Marquis hoped, be unknown in London.
Nevertheless, there was no disguising the fact that there were difficulties ahead and
he must be prepared to fight an increasing battle to protect his wife from the snubs and
slights which the great social hostesses would be only too ready to inflict on her.
The Marquis knew, however, that he had some close friends on whom he could rely:
the Duchess of Devonshire was one and the Countess of Bess- borough another.
Moreover, he knew diat the Prince of Wales would support him whatever he did or
whomever he married.
He had therefore gone to collect Vanessa from the Bloomsbury boarding-house at
peace within himself and filled with a strange, unworldly happiness that he had never
known before.
He could not believe he was hearing aright when the proprietress, a blowsy woman
with a somewhat aggressive manner, informed him that Vanessa and her maid had
already left.
"I do not believe you!" the Marquis exclaimed.
The woman had merely laughed in his face.
"Go up and look for y' self, me fine gentleman!" she jeered. "Third floor back, and if
your lady-friend 'as left it untidy, don't blame me!"
Because the Marquis was certain that she must be lying, he had climbed to the third
floor and found, as he had been told, an empty room.
He looked at the two iron bedsteads, the peeling wall-paper, and the bare floor with
disgust and horror.
He could not imagine Vanessa, so lovely and so perfect in herself, in such a place.
Then he remembered that she had stayed here rather than in her own house simply
because she believed that she was harming him in becoming a part of his life.
He had then driven from Museum Lane to Islington, thinking that Vanessa must
have gone home feeling, as he did, that the boarding-house was not the right
background from which to set out on a new life.
The house in Islington was, however, exactly as he had last seen it.
The doors were locked and barred, the windows closed, and although the Marquis
let himself into the house he could not see that anything else had been removed.
Once again he found himself calculating desperately how much money Vanessa
would have left.
It was true that she must have made a certain amount at Vauxhall but, although she
had not told him so, he was certain that Mr. Simpson, being a business-man, would have
charged her rent for the arbour.
Out of her earnings she would also undoubtedly have given him something towards
what she owed for the Persian gown and veils with which she had disguised herself.
The Marquis had driven quickly back to Berkeley Square, trying to make himself
believe that Vanessa had left the boarding-house intending to come direct to him.
There was, however, no sign of her!
Ail through the day he had searched frantically in every part of London where he
thought she might be hiding.
Although he had known it was hopeless, he had that evening gone to Vauxhall
Gardens, only to find the arbour empty and Mr. Simpson without the slightest idea of
why she had not turned up as he had expected.
The Marquis spent a sleepless, tormented night, walking about his bed-room and
haunted by the words he had said to Vanessa and which had made her hesitate to agree
to marry him.
"How could I ever have been so incredibly pompous," he asked himself, "so absurdly
conceited, apart from the fact that I was insulting her?"
He knew at this moment that he would sacrifice his rank and his entire fortune just to
hold Vanessa in his arms and persuade her, as he himself was persuaded, that nothing
else mattered except their love.
"I love you! I love you!" he wanted to say to her as she had said it to him.
Yet he could see, as if it were etched indelibly on his memory, the expression on her
face, from which the radiance had vanished, when he told her he could not offer her
marriage!
Today he had started once again to comb London, visiting Dealers, shops, and
boarding-houses, and he had returned to Ruckford House only because his horse was
tired.
Sitting in the Library, he tried to think of somewhere new he could go, but he was
aware that it was only by chance that he had found Vanessa before, and a lucky number
seldom turned up twice running when one was gambling.
The door opened behind the Marquis and Mr. Gratton came into the room.
"Excuse me, My Lord," he said, "but a note has just been delivered at the door and the
groom says it is urgent!"
The Marquis sat upright with a glint of hope in his eyes.
"A note?" he asked.
"It is from the Dowager Countess of Clanderry, My Lord."
The Marquis sank back again in the chair and his expression was once again one of
despair.
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