Intermezzo (19 page)

Off the two of them went, chasing down an errant kite before it could become tangled in the trees and ruined. After several yards of a wild chase Adela caught the string and Richard caught Adela. Laughing, they returned to the house, where his lordship had stood at the window—watching.

Twelve

A week later, Adela sat in the silent kitchen waiting for Richard, who now preferred to use the servants’ entrance to the house. The kitchen had been abandoned by the staff, most of whom were given the evening off. His lordship had eaten at his club and Becka was visiting with Aunt Sophia. Even Adela had spent part of the afternoon with Lady Spencer from whom she had borrowed a simple black egret mask and a purple domino for her night at the gardens. Once dressed, she had decided to wait quietly for Richard. There was no reason for asking Soames to answer the door.

His lordship, coming to the front entrance, asked after Adela, “Practicing, is she, Soames?”

“No, sir, the young lady is in the kitchen.”

“Why ever for, Soames? Is she sneaking out on us?”

“Just so, my lord,” said Soames, who could not avoid a sniff of disapproval.

“Serious, is it, Soames?”

“I hope not, my lord. Not quality, he isn’t, you know.”

His lordship wandered into the kitchen almost casually a few moments later and saw Adela sitting calmly with her domino folded across her lap, making faces into the egret mask.

He began to chuckle. “I’ve come for some milk. Would you care to join me or have you got a more potent brew in mind, Cousin Adela?”

“No, sir, milk would be perfect. Thank you.”

He poured her a glass and sat down at the small high carving table with the single candle between them.

“Going out, I see.”

“Yes, sir. Richard Brewer is taking me to Vauxhall for the evening, my lord.”

“Do you always dress to the trees, and then sit in the kitchen? Somehow it doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Richard prefers this entrance, my lord. He still believes, you know, that Mr. and Mrs. Soames do not entirely approve of him.”

“Too true, Mr. and Mrs. Soames do not approve of your Richard at all, my dear.”

She smiled up at him. “I cannot help feeling, sir, that you could have left that unsaid.”

“Why ever should I leave anything unsaid, Cousin Adela?”

“It can hardly signify what the Soames think, can it?”

“My little Miss Muffet is becoming wondrous brave. A few short months ago you were terrified of Mr. Soames.”

“No, I was not.”

“Of course you were. You were terrified of everything and everyone except your piano.”

“Your lordship is exaggerating.”

“Am I?”

She looked away from him and changed the subject. “I have never been to Vauxhall before. Is it pleasant?”

“Very pleasant if you like that sort of thing—dancing and so on. But Miss Trowle, you don’t dance, do you?”

“I
can
dance, sir. Although I prefer to listen to the music and I understand the food is magnificent.”

“The dancing is good. The food is indifferent which, you, being no connoisseur, will never notice, and the orchestra is absolutely abysmal, which you will
undoubtedly
notice. Will you waltz? Or do you intend to stroll through the gardens?”

“My lord, that cannot be any concern of yours.”

“On the contrary. Vauxhall can be a dangerous place. You are my kinswoman, as I never tire of reminding you, and you are living in my home and I take quite a paternal interest in your affairs. In fact, as was only proper, M. De La Courte came to me to ask permission to pay his addresses. Incidentally, am I about to receive a similar visit from your Mr. Brewer?”

“Richard Brewer knows that you are not my guardian.”

“True, but he also knows that I am a great patron of the arts. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to grease the old boy up would it now?’ ” he said in a perfect imitation of Richard’s young middle-class voice.

Adela giggled in spite of herself. “I will warn you of his impending visit and you can practice being avuncular, sir. I should really like to observe you in the role.”

“I can assure you, Miss Trowle, it does not come to me naturally. Ah, here is your young man. I will go now. Best of luck my dear and take care,” he said as he left the room with a glass of milk in his hand.

It was a lovely evening at Vauxhall. The spring had now advanced and the flowers were in blossom. The sweet smell of honeysuckle permeated the air as Adela and Richard walked hand in hand through the gardens, talking quietly to each other. Adela, walking so as occasionally to swish out her domino, was lifting the egret mask to her face and pretending to be a masked lady at a very grand ball. The pretense was extreme for someone as normally self-contained as Adela, but it was a harmless sort of illusion. Together the masked lady and her charming courtier were like two children enjoying the wonders of a fairy world. Adela was almost perfectly at ease. Richard had always been such a comfort. He was not someone to lean on so much as someone to help take the rough edges off of her life, to gentle that life and make it safe to the touch.

They ate and drank, and wandered among the musicians. If the food was indifferent Adela would not have noticed and the champagne, a luxury almost totally unheard of for either of them, was lovely. It was quite true that the musicians were execrable, but dulled by the wine and the sweet softness of a spring evening, Adela could almost forgive the musicians. They danced the waltz together and Miss Trowle discovered that, with the right partner, the waltz was not all that difficult. It, like everything else about that evening, was comfortable and comforting.

Presently Adela noticed that Richard was holding her quite closely. Far more closely than M. De La Courte had ever done, and suddenly, she felt herself oppressed by the heat. Richard suggested a walk in the gardens, and taking Adela by the hand, he led her out into the dimly lighted walk and they sat quietly for a few minutes in a secluded alcove. Then Richard, taking both her hands in his, slowly lifted them and kissed her fingers.

Looking quietly into her eyes he began to talk. Haltingly at first and soon with some slight assurance.

“Adela, I know perhaps you do not want to talk now but please listen to me. I love you. I have loved you since I met that quiet serious lonely girl of seventeen. You needed a friend then and I was a friend, but I can no longer be just a friend. I love you. I know I am not exciting—no dash and all—but I could give you a good life. You would have your music and me and children and a pleasant cottage in the country. You could continue to work with your Becka, and you
will
be a great pianist. But you simply can’t go on living in that horrible house. His lordship is a useful sort of chap and he has done a great deal for you; but if you stay there with the nobs, you will have blossomed only to dry up. They have no blood, no gentleness, no humanity. He will marry his Lady Diana and you will be living in a museum not a home, as some Ice Queen’s poor relative. Come with me. I can give you a good solid comfortable life. I’d have asked you sooner but you seemed so distant and I didn’t see my way clear on the money. It would not have done to have you starve, but I am making a good living as a violinist and working for my pa as a clerk as well. I’m good with the ciphers and have picked up some fairly well-inlaid clients myself. We can manage and manage well with a servant or two.”

“Oh, I know, Richard, the money is not a problem. We would never starve.”

“Then you will marry me?”

“I don’t know, Richard. I just don’t know. I think I should like that cottage very well with a white picket fence and two children tugging at my skirts and you and I sipping tea in the warm kitchen. But it seems too good, too soft and pleasant to be possible. Too peaceful somehow. I’m just not ready yet. I thought I was, I thought I was waiting for someone just like you.”

“My darling Adela, I love you.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her and Adela felt—nothing. He kissed her more passionately, and then suddenly closing in around her she felt webs of frustrations and found it necessary to fight loose and steady herself with a breath of cold night air. Almost faint, she asked Richard to bring her some lemonade.

“I believe the champagne has begun to affect me, Richard. We will have some lemonade and you will take me home. I’m very dizzy.”

Dutifully, Richard went off to fetch the lemonade and Adela remained sitting for a few minutes and then began to pace back and forth in a futile endeavor to clear her head.

In her confusion, Adela failed to notice two gentlemen tottering erratically in her direction. To the casual observer it might have appeared that both of these masked young men were so disguised as to be rendered incapable of the muscle coordination necessary to walk, let alone accost a young lady. Adela, however, was given no time to make these fine distinctions. The first she realized the presence of the menace was when one of the young men lunged to take her into his arms muttering under his breath. “Over here, Jamey, never could resist a moving target.”

Adela should have panicked, fainted, or, at the very least, screamed, but taken completely unaware and in her own state of agitation, her immediate reaction was pure unmitigated and very liberating anger. Without a moment’s hesitation she struck out
with her reticule, her feet, and her fingernails. Two gentlemen, each at least three sheets to the wind and barely capable of assuming a standing position, were no match for a spirited young woman, free at last to vent the full limit of her hostility and frustration on a deserving victim. With a few strategically placed thrusts she had them both completely rolled up horse, foot, and guns. Only then, with her assailants vanquished, did Miss Trowle realize that she had actually been in a dangerous position and that somehow the appropriate thing to do in a dangerous situation was to run. And run she did. And, as she ran, she began to experience a kind of terror.

Before succumbing to an incipient hysterics, she collided with yet another gentleman, this one large, immovable, and distinctly sober. As she muttered a hurried “Beg your pardon” and made to veer to the left, two strong arms enclosed her and a familiar voice was saying in unfamiliar tones, “Peace, be still child, there is nothing to be afraid of, hush now.” Slowly Adela began to shake less and then she began to cry. His lordship held her closely and endured even the tears without making any attempt to remonstrate with her until she raised her eyes and said, with a remarkable degree of control, “You were quite right about this place—I expect you think me a terrible fool.”

“It had occurred to me that you were not demonstrating the best of judgment. I have noticed, however, that you have developed a tendency to behave foolishly.”

This urbane dismissal of the situation sparked some sign of anger and she answered with a weak attempt at sarcasm, “It is customary I understand to accept a lady’s apology graciously, my lord.”

“That’s better,” and then after a moment, “Might I ask, is young Brewer responsible for the state of your nerves and your dress?”

‘‘Richard, no, no, of course not. I sent him off for some lemonade.”

“Sent him off, did you?”

“Yes and I must return or he will be terribly concerned.” She turned to leave, still very uncertain on her feet.

“I will send a porter with a message for him. Incidentally, what happened,
after
young Brewer was silly enough to leave you unguarded.”

“Richard was not silly. I am not the sort of woman who is customarily accosted you know,” she said, weaving about. “We were always wont to attend the theater sitting in the far galleries and even sometimes in the pits. I have
never
been insulted before and it was so disagreeable.”

“What was?”

“These two gentlemen appeared
ex nihilo,
and although they were almost incapable of movement, from drink I suppose, one of them lunged at me and actually kissed me.”

“And you?”

For the first time she smiled slowly. “You know, my lord, I acquitted myself quite well. I was very angry of course and they were very disguised. It was unfair of me, but I lashed out and milled them both down. At least they were howling in pain when I began to sense the danger of the situation and ran. It was only as I was running that I became frightened. Strange is it not?”

“You are an idiot.” He held her very close for a long moment. “What do you suppose would have happened if they had been in sound mind and body? You could have been murdered.”

“I know, but I wasn’t murdered. I may have murdered them and you know I have never, even as a child, milled anyone down before. It was not at all unpleasant, I was positively heroic,” she said as her head began to fall toward his shoulder again. “But now, you know, I am not feeling at all well, dizzy I suppose.”

“Come, the carriage will be here in a moment, and I will take you home.”

“Home? I think home may be a cottage with three children, a piano, and a garden.”

Lifting her into the carriage, he instructed the coachman to drive around for a bit before turning toward St. James Square. Not even his lordship could face Soames with an unconscious little Miss Trowle in his arms. Nor would she, he knew, ever forgive him for exposing such a moment of weakness to the staff.

As she slowly regained her senses and pulled away from him to the far corner of the seat, he began to smile indulgently.

“Not doing too awfully well are we, Miss Muffet?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose?”

“Would you like to tell me all about it? I presume that you are not ordinarily in a state to attack strangers—even those who are attempting to kiss you.”

“I don’t think I can discuss it now, sir.” She was rubbing her eyes and then, after a few moments of thought, she added, “Sir, do you think I might continue to teach Becka and not live in, so to speak.” In the darkness, the features of his face tightened almost convulsively, but his voice was in no way indicative of his state of mind. At his most urbane he drawled, ‘The little cottage with the garden, is it?”