Will You Love Me in September

I was smiling, thinking of Lance's pleasure when he saw me, and when I reached his door I told the chairman to wait just in case Lance should not be at home and I needed him to take me back at once.

I knocked at the door and Lance's very excellent footman opened it.

"Hello, Thomas," I said. "This is a surprise visit.”

He stared at me as though he could not believe his eyes. It was the first time I had seen him nonplussed. He knew me well, of course, for I, with my family, had often visited the house in Albemarle Street.

"Is Sir Lance at home?" I asked.

He floundered a little, which was odd, because he was usually so precise. "Oh, yes, Mistress Clarissa, but... .”

I had stepped inside. "Oh, I am glad he's at home. I should have been so disappointed if he had not been. I'll go and find him. I want this to be a surprise.”

Thomas put out a hand as though to restrain me, but I had gone past him, laughing to myself at the prospect of seeing Lance's face when he saw me. I opened the door of the dining room expecting to see him at breakfast, but he was not there.

"Mistress ... you can't." Thomas was close behind me.

I took no heed. I bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He must be still abed. I would tease him about his laziness. It was wrong of me to go to his bedroom.

Damaris would not have approved, but there was a special relationship between us.

I was being unconventional, but Lance himself had often said that conventions were for the unimaginative, and individualists disregarded them when it was expedient to do so.

I was doing that now.

I came to his bedroom door. Thomas was puffing after me. I knocked at the door.

"Come in," said a woman's voice.

I opened the door. She was seated at the dressing table in her nightgown combing her long dark hair.

"Put the tray down there," she said, without turning her head.

I was astounded. What was this woman doing in Lance's bedroom?

Then Lance himself appeared. I stared at him in amazement. He was wearing light-colored breeches and was shirtless, so that he was naked from the waist.

"I'm ready for breakfast, darling, are you?" he said. Then he stopped short, for he had seen me.

My face was scarlet. I turned and ran out of the room, almost falling over Thomas, who was beside himself with dismay. I started down the stairs. I heard Lance call after me, "Clarissa, Clarissa, come back.”

I took no notice. I ran out of the house to the chair, which was mercifully waiting for me.

I did not see the colorful streets now; I did not hear the raucous cries of the street sellers. I could only see Lance with a woman in his bedroom. Lance ... who had asked me to marry him.

I never want to see him again, I told myself fiercely. I was very upset and most unhappy.

Lance, of course, did not let the matter rest there. He came to see me later in the day. I pleaded a headache and refused to leave my room. But he kept calling until I did see him.

"I want to explain," he said.

"It was self-explanatory," I retorted.

"I daresay it was," he agreed ruefully.

"That woman ... who is she?”

"A very dear friend of mine.”

"Oh ... you are shameful.”

"You, my dear Clarissa, are very young. Yes, your inference is correct. Elvira Vernon is my mistress and has been for some time.”

"Your mistress! But you have asked me to marry you.”

"And you refused me. Do you deny me consolation?”

"I don't understand you.”

"There is a great deal you have to learn of the world, Clarissa.”

"I have already learned so much about you! What if people knew... .”

"My dear, a great many of them know. There is nothing terrible or unusual about this situation. It is a very amicable arrangement. Elvira and I suit each other very well.”

"Then why don't you marry her?”

"It isn't that sort of relationship.”

"It seemed that that was it was ... exactly. Oh, how wise I was to refuse you.

Suppose ...”

"Suppose you had agreed to marry me? Then I should have Drought to a close my relationship with Elvira and begun my life as a respectable married man.”

"You are so ... glib.”

"Listen, Clarissa, I am fond of Elvira in a certain way, but I don't want to marry her any more than she wants to marry me. We just like each other. We console each other. I love you. I want to marry you. You must believe that.”

"I do not, and I have no wish to see you anymore. I think it is ... horrible. I suppose you have had lots of mistresses.”

"A few," he admitted.

"Then go back to them and leave me alone. What a lucky escape I have had!”

"So you did consider me, then?”

"I have told you I love someone else and I am waiting for him. But it is no concern of yours, because I shall never see you again.”

He regarded me with a smile, half tender, half mocking. One of the things which exasperated me was his inability to be serious about any subject-and in a way it fascinated me.

It gave him an added stature, as though he was completely competent to deal with any situation.