The Dungeon

Chapter One-3

“You know what it will take, James,” Eleanor said firmly. “A small gold ring, and they will be yours. And a good deal else.”

James sighed. “As you know, I’ve talked to my gaffer. I can’t move without his say-so. And he says you having a title is all very nice, but he’s only too aware your old man has designs on his money. Perhaps if he’d offer to make a contribution?”

Eleanor looked sad. “He hasn’t got it. At least I don’t think so.” In fact her father’s finances were in an even worse state than she realised. His gambling losses had been mounting up. One of the things she didn’t know was that many of these losses were to Lord Darlington, who was the owner of a gambling club in the West End of London.

“Let’s have another glass of champagne,” James said. As they were drinking their wine, Eleanor was surrounded by half a dozen young men all clamouring to be placed on her dance card. The evening was getting on and there were few spaces unfilled. Suddenly a voice spoke behind Eleanor. “I demand at least two places be reserved for me.”

She turned; it was Lord Darlington. He smiled. “As your host, I have the right to at least two dances,” he said. “Shall we make the next dance one of them?”

She turned to James and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, what can I do? Lord Darlington led her off into a waltz, one hand grasping hers, the other pressed firmly into the small of her back.

“I doubt a girl as supple of you needs to wear a corset,” he said. Eleanor considered such remarks improperly personal. Host or not, Lord Darlington had no right to comment so directly on her person. She did not reply but her expression made her feelings clear.

“I fear I have offended you,” he said. “When my only intention was to offer you a compliment.”

“A respectable girl does not care to have compliments of that order,” she said. She knew she sounded prim, stuffy. But it could not be helped.

“You dance excellently well,” he said.

“That compliment I will accept,” she said.

“Tell me, are you engaged to that gentleman who brought you here?”

“That again is verging on the overly personal,” she said. “If and when we become engaged there will be an official announcement and you will be able to read it in The Times.”

“I only ask,” Lord Darlington replied, “because his father is a friend of mine, as is yours. I have an interest in both families, as it were.”

Since Eleanor did not know the precise nature of that interest she did not reply.

“May I compliment you also upon your dress?”

Eleanor bowed her head in acceptance. She wished that Lord Darlington had not been so handsome, albeit in such a menacing manner. Then it would have been easier to despise him.

“The colour of the dress perfectly sets off your complexion,” he continued. “The creaminess of the skin, the dark, almost black hair, the fine red colouring of the lips.”

“Please, my lord,” Eleanor said, “I am not comfortable with this.”

“But surely I have not said anything indelicate?”

Eleanor could not exactly say what was objectionable about Lord Darlington’s remarks. But she felt threatened by them, felt that they were evidence of a real, palpable lust.

“Please let us change the subject,” she said.

“Very well,” he replied. “Do you like to ride?”

“Well, yes, I do,” said Eleanor, glad that the conversation had taken a different turn.

“There is excellent riding on my estate,” he said. “Why do you not pay a visit and try for yourself. I have suitable horses for you to ride.”

“Well, perhaps,” Eleanor said, intending to be non-committal.

“How about next weekend?” he said.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly make a promise for that soon. So many things to do.” In fact Eleanor had generally not much to do of any urgency, now that she had finished her studies at Miss Pratchett’s. There was her dog to walk, and some lunches with Adelaide, and some shopping (she felt badly in need of a new hat). And some letters to write.

“I shall speak to your young man,” Lord Darlington said, “and persuade him that a weekend in the country, with healthy exercise, will do you good. Of course he must come too.”

Eleanor instantly resolved to instruct James not on any account to accept the invitation. For the rest of the dance she managed to deflect the conversation into mundane matters such as the weather and the price of corn. But all the time she was aware of Lord Darlington’s intense gaze, mostly on her face but every now and again descending to her bosom. Despite all the favourable looks she had received, and the opportunity it had afforded for teasing James so terribly, she was beginning to wish she had worn something more modest. Something which kept her bosom under wraps, where doubtless her mother would have preferred it to be.

At last the ball came to an end. Lord Darlington made a point of seeking out Eleanor and took the opportunity for words with James, introducing the idea of a visit. James responded with enthusiasm, before Eleanor had a chance to instruct him what to say. By the time they were in their coach, going back down the drive, it appeared that a visit the next weekend was practically settled.

Eleanor was seething. “How could you accept hospitality from that man without even consulting me!” she cried. “I shall not go. You can go by yourself for all I care.”

James was taken aback. “What’s wrong? Why are you reacting in that way?”

“That man gives me the creeps,” Eleanor said. “I feel that he has designs on me. On my person.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” James said. “He knows you are promised to me. Well, all but. You can’t blame a chap for fancying you. You’re so gorgeous, anyone would.”

“There’s something deeply offensive about the way he does it,” Eleanor protested. “You’re a man, you don’t see it. But I do.”

“Well, I don’t see how we can back out of it now. Father would regard it as discourteous to his lordship.”

“I feel let down,” said Eleanor. “You have failed to support me, and you have lowered yourself in my estimation. You will have to work exceptionally hard to get back into my good books.”

James looked glum. He could see that it would be a long time before he got another look at those luscious breasts. Eleanor didn’t speak again until the coach stopped outside her home. She got out and without a word of farewell to James made her way quickly up the steps and into the house. James drove on glumly. She would come round, he told himself. But it would take a lot of work. Many slices of humble pie would need to be eaten.