Cry of the Peacock (45 page)

“You?” Katherine returned.

“The way he treats you, so gently, so respectfully. If his manner were the same for me, mine would not be so difficult a decision.”

Abbie found that her hand was very suddenly between both of Katherine’s. “And I wish I were adored as you are adored,” she said with swimming eyes.

Abbie was surprised by this. “What can you mean?”

“They all love you, so much, would do anything for you.”

Abbie laughed dismissively. “Not all of them. You know that quite well.”

“Yes. All of them. Every one,” she said and turned away. In time she recovered and turned back to her with a brave but uncertain smile. “Will you come back in now? It’s quite cold out here.”

“No. I need a moment more. Don’t wait for me. I’ll find my way back to the ballroom. You needn’t worry for me.”

Katherine hesitated but at last agreed and left her to return indoors. Abbie followed as far as the entrance and stood to watch the gaiety from afar. She did not feel a part of it. The decision before her was too momentous. What would it mean to Katherine? What would it mean to David or to James? Would the family truly be ruined? If she did not marry at all, would they not be allowed to keep what she did not want? Or would the absence of a fortune prevent her from marrying ever or at all?

Her decision was made, and yet the answers to these questions still mattered. She did not wish to cause harm to those who had been so good to her, she did not wish to bring pain and misfortune upon those for whom she had grown to care, but she could not give her heart to someone who could never stir it, either. It had been stirred already. To what purpose?

“There you are, my dear Miss Gray!” Abbie blinked to find James standing beside her. He was not alone. “Are you quite all right?”

Mr. Meredith, who had accompanied him, was clearly as concerned.

“Yes, of course,” she said and made a greater effort to conceal her cares.

“It’s time to come back in,” James said to her and offered his arm. “Though I suppose I should warn you, Meredith and I are prepared to fight over you.”

“Are you?” she said and felt herself blush. She took an arm from each gentleman. “Well then, I suppose there is nothing for it.”

“Have a little courage,” James whispered and patted her hand as he and Meredith both escorted her indoors. “It’ll all be over soon enough.” But was it the evening he meant, or the torment of having this decision on her shoulders, knowing the answer she must give, and the disappointment, too. She wished to ask him what would become of him upon her refusal to marry Ruskin. Would it ease her burdens to know, or would it make them all the harder to bear? Would he tell her? He might.

She felt the need of courage as they entered the banquet room, and so she took a glass of champagne and drank it eagerly.

“Slow down, my dear, we don’t want you quite off your head yet. Not, at least, until we’ve each had a chance to spin you. And waltzes, you know, can be treacherous for losing one’s head.”

“Perhaps I need a little help, then. I’ve had one waltz already, and have felt no temptation whatever to ‘lose my head’, as you say.”

James gave Meredith a knowing look, but it was immediately interrupted by the sight of Sir Nicholas, who had just entered the banquet room, and who was now being offered a salver by a footman. To receive, as a guest at a party, a communication in such a form, sealed, too, was almost ominous. They watched as he opened it, read it and scowled ferociously. He muttered something, something that Mr. Meredith evidently felt it better she not understand, and so suggested they return to the ballroom.

Upon arriving there, James allowed Mr. Meredith the first dance. There was no fighting, and it was all agreed upon with rather less melodrama than Abbie might have hoped for. James was preoccupied for the moment with his father’s return to the ballroom. Sir Nicholas crossed the room, spoke to no one, excused himself from all attempts at conversation and approached Ruskin, who had all evening danced with few but Abbie and Katherine.

“Smile, Miss Gray, or people will begin to think you don’t like me.”

She turned to Mr. Meredith, well reprimanded, and did smile, quite sincerely, but her attention was soon drawn once more to where Sir Nicholas and Ruskin were speaking in very warm conversation.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked him. “It’s very bold.”

“Very well, Miss Gray. Do your worst.”

“I don’t suppose you have ever made it your business to buy a gown for an unmarried woman of your acquaintance.”

“That would be exceedingly presumptuous. Possibly scandalous.”

“It would indeed. But that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Do you have someone in mind who might receive such a gift?”

“Has received, Mr. Meredith. And I do indeed.”

“I’m afraid I have to disappoint you, Miss Gray.”

She was disappointed, but relieved too.

“It is an odd question,” Mr. Meredith observed, clearly fishing for more information.

She had no intention of enlightening him, but scanned the crowd, the couples all turning in time to the music.

She saw him then, David, dancing with Katherine. Saw him smiling and talking to her. Saw her trying to smile, trying to be happy in his arms. Why couldn’t she be! David glanced up and met Abbie’s gaze, for only a moment.

“Tell me, Mr. Meredith,” she said, eager to engage in any dialogue, to have any distraction, even if she had to invent it.

“Yes, Miss Gray?”

“I’m afraid it’s another bold question.”

“Ask away.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“I knew the champagne was a bad idea.”

“Well?”

“Yes. Twice. Why?”

“And never married?”

“Once married.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.” He laughed but it was without much sentiment. At least the sentiment was not one of joy. “Why the interrogation?”

“What is it like?”

“Marriage?”

“No. Love.”

He stammered. “I—”

“It’s my turn, old man.” It was James, cutting in before the set was over and stopping the flow of the room. Perhaps he was not quite so recovered as he had claimed to be.

Mr. Meredith reluctantly relinquished her to James.

“Now what was that about? You had Meredith speechless.”

“He was about to tell me what it was like to be in love.”

“Oh ho! We
are
feeling bold tonight. I’m rather glad of that.”

“Why?”

“Because your need of it has only just begun.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I think we are soon to find out.” He nodded in the direction of his father and eldest brother.

She watched them for a moment, speaking heatedly together, but to see them so, it alarmed her greatly. Something was amiss, and considering the troubles already pressing upon Sir Nicholas and his family, what were the chances it would not somehow affect her as well, either by what she would be made to face in Ruskin’s deteriorating moods, or by what she was expected to alleviate by way of her marriage to him?

“My question to Mr. Meredith,” Abbie found herself saying now, “he did not answer it. You might, I suppose.”

“Do you mean to torture every man in the room?”

“What can you mean by that? You can answer the question without it causing you anguish. Can’t you?”

“I can answer it, as I think you already know,” he said very soberly. “But it is not quite free of anguish. There are obstacles, which I believe you know just as well.”

“Am I an obstacle?”

“You? In what way?”

“If I refuse Ruskin, what will happen to your hopes and plans?”

“To be very honest, Abbie, I don’t know. It will play no role whatever in my regard for your sister. Those obstacles will remain regardless.”

“You fear the scandal of it?”

“I fear indefinite separation. I cannot remain in Town much longer. While she is in charge of her flock, she can live nowhere else. Do you see?”

“So what then?”

“I will return to the estate and do my best to recover what we can.”

“If there is anything to recover,” Abbie pointed out.

“We won’t lose it all. I promise. A part of it, perhaps. Perhaps you will give me permission to farm your portion.”

“You have it!”

He looked a little relieved.

“Apart from that, there will be no money for university education, but as you know, I never wanted to go anyway.”

“So you will be all right.”

“I will be absolutely well. I promise you. The only way in which your decision could cause me harm is if I knew you had sacrificed yourself for me needlessly. Marry him if you are certain he can make you happy, and for no other reason.”

The relief she felt with this counsel very nearly brought her to tears. If only she could get reassurance from David, but these questions she had put to James she could never put to him.

“Have you danced yet with David?” James asked as though he had heard her thoughts.

“No.”

“You ought to,” he said, and said no more on the subject. “In the meantime, I have a few friends I want you to meet. I’ve only been waiting for them to arrive.”

“Friends? Of yours? Do I
want
to meet them?”

“I think you will find it enlightening to improve your acquaintance with as many as opportunity will allow.”

“And you mean to help me, I suppose.”

“I do at that!” he said, and spun her a bit faster.

When the music had done, he returned her to stand at the edge of the dance floor while he went in search of one of two of those to whom he wished to introduce her.

As she waited she became increasingly aware of the furtive—and some not so furtive—glances being cast her way. There was a good bit of confidential conversation as well, or so she gathered by the many heads in close proximity, and lowered and anxious words exchanged, none of which she could hear. It was true she had been an object of attention since the moment she had arrived, but it had grown rather pointed over the last hour.

Abbie looked to Lady Crawford, seated upon the balcony and chatting with a group of her friends and acquaintances, Lady Barnwell among them. Her attention was upon her husband. No doubt she had observed his altered manner and was wondering anxiously at it.

Abbie looked then to Katherine, who stood a little distance off. Her gaze was firmly fixed upon the swirling and moving crowd of dancers, as if she were watching for something. Occasionally her gaze lifted to the balconies, rested upon the party in which her mother was a part, before turning to regard for herself Ruskin and Sir Nicholas, absorbed now in heated and eager conversation with each other.

“Is there something wrong, Katherine?” Abbie asked upon approaching her.

“No,” she answered, apparently startled and looking a little pale. “Why should there be?”

“There shouldn’t. Only you look very anxious. Do you know what it is that has caused so much excitement between Sir Nicholas and Ruskin?”

“Oh,” she said and looked again. “No, I don’t.”

“Do you know, then, why I have suddenly become the source of so much attention?”

Katherine looked at her, her eyes a little wider than normal.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, Abbie. I’m so very sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?”

“Miss Gray.” James had returned, and had brought a friend. “May I introduce you to Mr. Robert Hargrave.”

“Mr. Hargrave!” she said and put forth her hand. “We have met already, though not formally.”

“Which oversight I’ve been most anxious to remedy,” he said and bowed respectfully, if stiffly, for his collar points were exceedingly high. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Gray. How does your mare do?”

“Well enough, I think, though I confess I have not been on her again since that day in the park.”

“You are lucky you were not hurt.”

“I know it.”

“You are fortunate you are such a good horsewoman,” he added.

She appreciated very much his recognition of her skill, and his reluctance to name himself the hero of the episode. It made it all the easier to think of him so.

“You will, of course, take pity on my friend and dance with him,” James suggested.

“Do say yes, Miss Gray,” Mr. Hargrave begged for himself. “It would give me so much pleasure.”

Abbie observed Ruskin watching the interchange and looking most displeased by it. “Of course I will,” she answered without hesitation.

“Just the one, though, my dear,” James whispered, but in no very confidential manner. “We don’t want to give him any ideas.”

“Why ever not?” she said and allowed herself to be led to the floor.

“W
HAT ARE YOU up to, James?” Katherine asked of him.

“Nothing at all,” he said. Certainly nothing he was going to explain to her. He liked Katherine a great deal, but her loyalty to Ruskin was sometimes a barrier to more intimate friendship.

“Just…be careful, will you?” she said.

He wondered at the warning, but could not bring himself to comprehend it before Ruskin approached them. He had the same question for him that Katherine had posed, and James the same answer.

“What was that about?” James asked in turn and nodded toward his father, who was still looking over the message he’d received.

“None of your damn business,” Ruskin muttered.

“Steady on, old man. Let’s not forget we’ve donned our best manners so we might appear in good form for the ladies.”

Katherine was staring at them both. No doubt she’d heard.

“Forgive me,” he said to Katherine.

Of course she forgave him.

“Is there trouble at home?” James asked.

Ruskin looked at him narrowly. “Why would you assume there’s trouble at home?”

Had he said too much? Or not enough? “What else could have you so apparently anxious?” Besides Abbie’s indecision, that was, but he was not about to comment on that.

Ruskin, it appeared, was not prepared to answer him. “Katherine,” he said, turning to her, “would you be so good?” and he nodded toward the dance floor.

“Of course, Ruskin,” she answered and gave him her arm before he’d offered his own. Leaving James to observe them, and to ponder.

If Katherine was such a comfort to Ruskin, why did he want so badly another? The answer was simple, for Abbie had what Katherine did not. A fortune.

James looked to David, who was presently in conversation with a gentleman of their slight acquaintance. He appeared only half attentive as he watched Katherine being led to the dance floor, and then swirled and swept along in the arms of another. James looked from Katherine to David again, and followed his gaze once more. No. It wasn’t Katherine he was watching at all. James had teased his brother for his apparent weakness where Abbie was concerned. He had witnessed his brother’s conversion, and wondered at it. He had suspected it might be more complete than David was willing or even prepared to confess. His suspicions were all but confirmed in that moment.

James looked to Katherine again, saw her smiling warmly, saw her speaking to Ruskin, comforting him, reassuring him. He was angry, concerned, and yet Katherine patiently smiled and soothed.

What did it all mean? And how would it end? At present, there was simply no telling.

The music died, Hargrave had had his spin. It was someone else’s turn. He introduced her next to Mr. Henry Mortimer, and she was once more on the dance floor and charming and attracting as he would wish her to do. Yes, he had provided for her to make the most that the evening’s opportunities might afford, but Ruskin’s jealousy was a force to be considered as well. He was possibly unwise to trifle with it. It was possibly just the thing to convince Abbie she deserved better than his eldest brother’s covetous and self-interested ambitions.

*   *   *

“Do you truly mean to consider this automobile venture?” Mr. Hargrave asked of David.

“Yes. I think I do. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d be a fool to pass it by.”

“Lord Barnwell will be very disappointed.”

“I suppose he will be,” David answered and tried not to give it more thought than that. His father’s revelation in regards to the will and how it might affect his future had been meant to convince him to fall in line with the plans laid out for him. Instead it had made him realize that he could not depend upon his own family for security. If Katherine loved him she would follow him through thick and thin. If she didn’t… He did not like to think of that, but it was his responsibility to himself, to her, and as a gentleman, to secure his own future. In that respect, the opportunity presented to him tonight was nothing short of providential.

“Do you really think there is a future in these machines?” Hargrave asked now. “All that noise and chugging smoke. I don’t see how it can catch on. It all seems quite preposterous to me.”

“Perhaps it is,” David conceded and looked once more toward the crowd. “In which case I’ll soon find out and I’ll be back upon the old plan before anyone has taken any notice.”

Mr. Hargrave, stiff as he was, followed David’s gaze and then looked back to examine him again. It was a wonder he could turn his head at all with his collar as high as it was. “The engagement is not yet official,” he asked. “Your brother’s, I mean.”

David gave him a sharp look. “There is no engagement.”

“No?”

“At least not yet, and it’s possibly presumptuous to assume there ever will be.”

“Which I dare to surmise is why your younger brother is taking such pains to provide her with alternatives.”

Is that what he was up to? David looked once more to the dance floor. Yes, she was dancing with yet another of James’ many acquaintances.

“We have met before, you know, Miss Gray and myself.”

“Is that so?” David asked curious and a little confused.

“I met her in Hyde Park. Her horse had run away with her. Or very nearly.”

“Very nearly? Ruskin rescued her, so I hear.”

“Crawford? Heavens no! Your brother didn’t do much more than lose his temper. Took it out on that poor beast, I’m afraid. It was I who blocked her path so that her mare had to slow, but to be honest, she had her in control quite on her own. I doubt very much she needed my help, but an opportunity to play the hero, you know, well, one cannot pass them by, rare as they are.”

“No,” David answered doubtfully. “I suppose not.”

“Your younger brother’s antics aren’t helping her situation, though. That is, he is feeding one fire to put out another.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

Mr. Hargrave twisted one end of his moustache into a sharp point. “You do know what they are saying about her?”

He felt a slight wave of alarm. “Would you care to tell me what it is you have heard?”

“She was once a tenant of yours, is what they say. The daughter of your overseer.”

“Yes, it’s true, but her mother was of family—a neighbor of ours, in fact. Fairbourne was the name.”

Mr. Hargrave looked once more to the dance floor. “Fairbourne? That was rather a scandal, wasn’t it? And she is soon to be mistress of Holdaway, when six months ago she was mucking about in cattle yards and chicken coops. Well, Society will accept almost anything these days. Particularly if she has money to back her. That much is true as well, I take it?”

Which fact was no doubt what rendered her so very popular this evening—that and James’ assistance—but David determined to say nothing at all.

Mr. Hargrave, with two fingers, placed his monocle and looked out into the crowd. “It isn’t the worst of what’s going around,” he added. “It is said she has connections with a ladies’ reformation society.”

“So do half the women in this room!”

“Tut, tut. That’s not what I mean, and I believe you know it.”

“Do I?”

“She is a reformed Magdalene. At least that’s what they are saying.”

“That’s not possible. She has lived at Holdaway for all but eight weeks of her life.”

“But as what, Mr. Crawford? As you have spent so little time there yourself, can you truly know?”

David had heard more than enough. “Would you be speaking this way if she were my sister, Hargrave? Or my wife?”

Mr. Hargrave lowered his monocle again. “Forgive me, Crawford. I’ve spoken out of turn. You are right. She is a charming girl, and I’m sure she will find much success. I wish her all the happiness in the world,” he said, and with a stiff bow he was gone.

David looked around him. He suddenly felt a stranger here. Did everyone see the world so skewed? Or was
he
the ignorant one? He looked for Abbie. She was dancing still. He searched the room for his mother and found her looking pale and wide eyed on the balcony above him. He looked for Katherine, who was very red of face and nodding along with a female acquaintance of hers. She met David’s glance and reddened further. What the devil was going on here? He approached to speak to her, but stopped again. No. He must put a stop to James’ antics before he added further fuel to the flames of gossip. It did not take much, after all.

“What
are
you doing, James?” he demanded of him. “Look around, will you? People are starting to talk.”

“What do I care what they’re saying?”

“She will care very much when she learns that half the room now believes she is a reformed Magdalene, and all the more so for your pushing every eligible gentleman into her path.”

James was struck immediately silent, his attention landed once more upon Abbie, but any hint of his former pleasure in the vision was completely gone now.

“Of course none of it is true,” David said. “I realize that, but—”

“It
isn’t
true!” James said with a degree of defensiveness that surprised him. “At least it’s not like that.”

“What’s not like what?” David asked, suddenly concerned in his own right. If there was even a grain of truth to it…

“Her aunt’s house, where she lived before coming to us, it was—it is a Magdalene sanctuary.”

“A Magdalene–” But he could not finish.

“Yes,” James said. “She lived there; it’s true. She lived there and helped her aunt in her efforts. Mariana yet remains, and is responsible for the whole of it. It’s why Abbie can’t return, not at least, until she’s exhausted every other available avenue. Don’t,” James said now, while David simply stood there in stunned silence. “Don’t think of her that way. You wouldn’t do other than admire either of them if you understood.”

“I’m not… I’m shocked, that’s all.”

“Do you know from where these rumors originated? Do you know who, besides you and me and Meredith, might know of it?”

David suddenly felt sick. Was this the source of Katherine’s displeasure with Abbie? He remembered enough of that conversation to believe it must be so. He looked to Katherine. Shame was apparent on her face as she met and returned his gaze.
Oh, Katherine. What have you done?

As if he’d uttered the question aloud, she turned away from him, and from the circle of friends with whom she had been, until that moment, conversing. She mounted the stairs to the balcony, glancing back just once, with that same look of regret and shame.

David turned next to Abbie. She offered him a troubled look, a look that asked a question.
What is going on?
He could not answer it. He turned from her again. He would go, he would go now and put an end to these rumors, one way or another.

“Where are you going?” James asked of him.

“Where do you think?”

“Don’t turn away from her now. Don’t make the mistake I did and walk away.”

Was that the misunderstanding Meredith had spoken of between his brother and Mariana? David turned back. Abbie was returning as the strains of a waltz began to play. Ruskin was advancing with the determination of a maddened bull. It was now or never.

“Would you do me the honor, Miss Gray?” David asked her.

“Yes,” she said, and appeared not to have expected the question from him. “Yes, of course.”

He offered his arm, and when they reached the dance floor, he stopped and took her hand in his, placing the other upon her waist.

“Slowly, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m feeling a little tired. I’m not used to so much exercise, you know.”

“Of course,” he said and tried to look at her, but found he could not.

“You are angry with me,” she said to him.

“What on earth would make you say that?” he asked, his eyes now full upon her.

“You have avoided me all evening, are so stiff and formal now…”

“I’m not angry with you,” he said and looked away again.

“Nor disappointed? Something
is
wrong. Do not lie to me. Tell me what it is.”

“It is possible it is time to go home.”

She did not answer him, only looked at him and swallowed hard. Her eyes scanned the room, saw the faces watching her, looking at her, saw the whispering and the furtive and judging glances.

“Do you know what it is about? Do you know why everyone stares and whispers?”

“I do.”

“Will you tell me?” she asked him.

“It cannot matter.”

“It does, though,” she said and reddened. “It may be true for all you know.”

David found he could not look at her. His gaze rose to the balcony corridor where Lady Barnwell could be seen, gazing down upon him with a disapproving look. Lady Crawford was no longer amidst the party. Where had his mother gone? How much had she heard, and what were any of them to make of it?

“David?”

With that one word, with his name, Abbie beckoned his attention to her. “They know,” he said. “About your aunt’s home, and what goes on there. They know.”