Jane Ashford (14 page)

Mr. Allenby greeted her with a smile and twinkling eyes. “You are here!” he exclaimed. “Do you know, I had a premonition that you would not come. How splendid that I was wrong.”

Laura smiled. “I very nearly did not.”

“Aha. I knew it. I felt it earlier this evening. We are attuned, you and I. And what made you change your mind?”

Laura started to tell him that a servant had locked her out of the house, but it came to her suddenly that he might not appreciate the joke, so she simply shrugged.

“You needn’t tell me,” he went on. “It was your spirit, Laura. You have the courage and curiosity to try new things, and so you came to watch the spectacle. Admirable.”

At this moment the carriages arrived, three of them, and the party set off for the Opera House. Laura had never visited this building before and so was unprepared and nearly dazzled by the brilliance within. Candles in crystal chandeliers illuminated the painted ceiling and tiers of boxes decorated with crimson, white, and gold. But it was the amazing crowd on the stage that held Laura’s eye. Though it was early yet, the ball was already in progress, and the dancers wore every imaginable costume, from dominoes like her own to slashed doublets and hose or motley and bells. Laura watched wide-eyed as this throng revolved about the stage, until Mr. Allenby touched her arm and led her to the box the party had procured for the evening.

Laura found with relief that this was on the second tier, the ideal location it seemed to her. From there one could see the spectacle perfectly but was not subject to the annoyances of ogling bucks and importunate strangers liable to beset those in the first tier, whose boxes opened onto the dance floor.

She sat down, and Mr. Allenby took the chair beside her. The couple who had arrived with her occupied the opposite corner of the box, but the rest of the party began to drift off to the stage. Laura looked at them as they went out, and sensing her concern, Mr. Allenby said, “I would have introduced you to everyone if we had not been hurrying out just as you came. Lila should have spoken to you, of course, but I fear she is a heedless creature. I apologize for her.”

Laura shrugged a little and turned to look at him. The sight was slightly forbidding; they had tied on their masks in the carriage, and all she could see was two eye slits in a black-silk ground. She thought she glimpsed a hazel twinkle as she replied, “It is of no consequence. I was late.”

“So you were,” he agreed equably. “I can introduce you to Sybil and her young friend if you like, but it will be difficult to pry them apart.”

Laura turned to look at their companions, then swung quickly back. The woman, Sybil, was behaving with a freedom that quite shocked the inexperienced Laura, and the man had removed his mask and let his hood fall, revealing a thin face that proclaimed his extreme youth.

“Why, he looks scarcely fifteen,” she whispered in a scandalized tone before she thought.

Mr. Allenby nodded. “If that. I take it you are not eager to be introduced?”

Laura looked down and shook her head very slightly.

“You show good taste,” he said lightly. “I could wish that they had not elected to stay in the box with us. Suppose we go and dance?”

Laura agreed, and they made their way through the crowds and down to the dance floor. But this did not much ease Laura’s discomfort, for many couples on the floor were behaving as freely as Sybil, or more so, and though no one offered to accost her, she did not feel at ease.

Mr. Allenby sensed Laura’s nervousness. When the music ended, he guided her over to the side of the room and bent to say, “You are not enjoying yourself, are you? I had thought that you might be entertained by the spectacle, but I believe that is not so?”

Laura looked up at him, seeing only black silk, and shook her head slowly. “I am sorry,” she replied.

“Nonsense. It is I who should apologize. I would never have brought you here had I known what your reaction would be.” He looked away for a moment, then added absently, “Though God knows, I should have foreseen it. I am getting quite out of touch.” He sighed. “Would you like to leave?”

Laura hesitated. “I do not wish to take you from your party,” she said. “If you could find me a hack perhaps.”

“Of course I shall escort you home,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “What a care-for-nobody you must think me.” He looked around. “But I must go back to the box to tell them I am going. I do not see any of our party about.”

Accordingly they returned to the box, and Mr. Allenby went over to their hostess. She protested loudly, and he was detained a moment answering her teasing remarks. Laura bent her head in her hood, pretending that she could not hear some of these, for their intent was shocking.

As she looked at the floor, a voice spoke suddenly very close by. “Good evening, Mrs. Crenshaw. How charming to see you again.”

Laura froze for an instant, then turned to the woman behind her. There was no mistaking that voice, and the curl of flaming red hair that fell from beneath the hood of a brilliant emerald green domino confirmed that this was indeed Vera Allenby. “Good evening,” answered Laura.

“Are you enjoying the masquerade?” she asked. “It is brilliant tonight, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“You do not sound over-pleased with the spectacle.”

“I have the headache,” said Laura. “I am just going.”

“Oh no. How tedious for you. Why not have a glass of champagne. Champagne always cures my headaches.”

Her tone was at once so patronizing and so false that Laura could scarcely keep from snapping at her. “I think a good night’s sleep will do better,” she replied coldly.

“Ah yes, bed. That too is a fine cure.” Mr. Allenby joined them then, greeting his wife blandly. “Well I mustn’t keep you,” continued Vera. “
Au
revoir.
” Then she turned to speak to Sybil.

“Shall we go?” said Mr. Allenby when she did not move. He gestured toward the door.

Laura started forward. Her whole body trembled after the encounter with Mrs. Allenby; she was astonished at herself. As soon as the woman had spoken, she had felt a rush of hatred such as she had never before experienced. She was still nearly overcome by the strength of the emotion. Going down the stairs, she wavered and nearly tripped.

“Are you all right?” asked her companion solicitously. “Take my arm.”

“No, no, I am fine. I missed the step.” Taking several deep breaths, Laura managed to calm herself a bit.

When they reached the entrance hall, it was deserted. Mr. Allenby looked around, hesitated, then led her to a small room just off it, which was also empty. “I must go out a minute to find a cab,” he told her. “You should be all right here. I won’t be long.”

Laura nodded and sank down uneasily on a chair in the corner. She fervently hoped that no one would disturb her, for she had seen how unescorted women were treated here.

Nothing broke the quiet for a short time, and Laura had just begun to relax slightly when she heard running footsteps and a girl burst suddenly in upon her. The newcomer wore a red domino which was now pulled open to show a drab brown gown beneath it. The hood was awry, and the girl’s mask had been torn. It dangled by one string down her shoulder. But these things Laura noticed only in passing; the girl’s obvious distress and rasping breath held her attention, and a vague familiarity in her features transfixed her.

The intruder had been looking behind her when she came in, but now she turned and started when she saw Laura. The terrified expression on her face roused the other’s compassion.

“It is all right,” said Laura. “Can I be of assistance?”

Though none of the strain left the girl’s features, a spark of hope lit her eyes. “Oh if you would but lend me a small sum for a cab, I should be forever grateful,” she said. “I could return it to you tomorrow.”

As the girl spoke, Laura suddenly recognized her. “Why, it is Marina, is it not? From the dressmaker’s?”

The girl’s eyes widened, and she looked, if anything, more desperate. “Yes,” she whispered. “Do you come there? Oh please, do not tell madame.”

“Of course I will not,” responded Laura. “And you must let me take you home.”

Marina shook her head. “Oh no. I shall be all right. But if you could lend me a few shillings, I swear I will return it tomorrow.”

“Of course. But won’t you let me…”

Marina shook her head violently. “I must leave immediately.” She pulled her domino straight and tried unsuccessfully to right her mask. Footsteps approached in the hall, and she froze for a moment, her expression wild, but they passed by and she relaxed again.

Laura had meanwhile taken some money and one of her cards from her reticule. “Can I not get someone to find you a cab?”

But Marina shook her head again. “No. I shall be all right now, I promise you. And thank you. I shall return the money tomorrow.”

“It is not necessary.”

“It is,” answered Marina fiercely, and she threw one intense glance over her shoulder as she fled the room at the sound of new footsteps. She brushed past Mr. Allenby, who was returning, and disappeared.

Mr. Allenby looked at Laura with surprise and concern. “Are you all right?” he asked. Laura nodded. “Ah. That’s good. It took me confoundedly long to find a cab. Let us hurry before some poacher steals it.”

They went out quickly. Laura looked about, but she saw no sign of Marina as she climbed into the hack. She hoped that the girl had found another and wondered briefly why she had been in this place and what had happened to her.

Mr. Allenby was all apologies as they drove. “I never should have taken you there,” he said. “Will you forgive me?”

“It doesn’t matter,” replied Laura. She was tired, and the headache she had claimed was becoming real.

“Ah, but it does. I shall never forgive myself. Will you give me another chance to prove that I am not a hopeless lout? Come to our card party tomorrow. I promise you that it will be nothing like the masquerade. You will enjoy yourself.”

“Oh I do not think…” began Laura.

“Wait. Send me a note tomorrow morning, when you are rested and have had time to consider the matter. Please.”

They accomplished the rest of the journey in silence and soon approached Laura’s house. She was glad to see that there were no lights in the library. She had half feared that Eliot might be sitting there, even though he had gone to his club this evening.

She climbed down quickly and bid Mr. Allenby good night. At her request he did not leave the carriage but watched as she unlocked the front door with her latchkey and slipped inside. There was no one in the hall, and Laura breathed a sigh of relief. She moved quickly to the stairs and almost ran up them. Just before she reached the first landing, she heard the sound of a door shutting downstairs, but she saw no one before she reached her room. Once there, she wasted no time in undressing and falling into bed. It had been an evening that she wished only to forget as quickly as possible.

When Laura woke the next morning, her headache was still with her. She lay still for some time, thinking over the events of the previous day and feeling heavy-eyed and depressed. She wondered what would be the consequences of her foolishness in going to the masquerade. She had somehow expected to go and get it over, and then to forget it. But she saw now that they had by no means come to the end of the matter, as she had known since she encountered Mrs. Allenby in the opera box. That woman, and Laura felt a flash of dislike as she thought of her, would not rest until Laura had been humiliated. She had heard this in Vera Allenby’s voice as surely as if she had said it aloud. Laura shook her head as she remembered the way Mrs. Allenby had looked at her. If the other woman knew the true state of the Crenshaw marriage, she thought, she would not be so bitter. Eliot’s mistress almost certainly saw a more tender side of him than Laura ever did. The idea made her clench her fist. It was intolerable that this thoroughly unpleasant woman should have this advantage over her.

Laura dressed and went down to the breakfast room. It was empty when she entered, though the table showed that one person, probably Eliot, had eaten and gone. Laura rang for fresh tea and sat down to toy with a piece of toast. She was not at all hungry. She drank two cups of strong tea but ate almost nothing, then rose again and paced about the room. What was she to do now?

As she went out into the hall on her way to the drawing room, she was suddenly hit by a wave of sadness. What had happened to her life, she wondered dismally? It had never been so complicated and unhappy before. In fact she had never felt so low. She stood for a moment, struggling to control the tears that had started in her eyes. She put out a hand blindly and grasped the stair rail.

After a time she went into the library with some idea of finding Eliot and thrashing things out with him, but he was not there. He had been working in the room; there was a pile of mail on his desk and several slit envelopes beside it. Indeed he appeared to have departed in a hurry, for one letter lay open on the floor next to his chair, which had been shoved back crookedly.

Sighing, she went over and picked it up. She was about to put it back on top of the pile when the signature caught her eye. In a bold script full of flourishes was written “Vera.” Laura struggled with herself for a moment, then tossed her head and began to read. If Eliot left such letters lying about, he must expect that someone would find them. Perhaps he had meant her to.

The note was not long. It began, “Dearest Eliot,” and continued with the very information that Laura feared. “Is it not delightful that Jack and your lovely wife have struck up such a friendship? They looked quite charming together at the Pantheon Masquerade last night. Do you remember our first masquerade? I confess I will never forget it. We have a card party tonight, you remember. Do come. Late, as usual. Yours, Vera.”

Laura’s hand was trembling by the time she reached the end of this missive, and she moved blindly to an armchair and sank down in it. This was the end. Eliot would never forgive her. Why, why had she done it?

All the anger and defiance that Laura had once felt was gone now, leaving only miserable despair and guilt. Would Vera Allenby talk of her escapade to everyone? Even gossips like Lady Quale? Laura’s head sank onto her hands. She could not doubt it. The story would run through the
ton
in a day. Completely overcome, Laura gave way to the tears that had been threatening all morning.

She cried for some time and was just getting control of herself again and groping in her pocket for a handkerchief when the door of the library opened suddenly and Mr. Dunham walked into the room. He stopped abruptly when he saw her, taking in her tearstained face and miserable expression. “I beg pardon, ma’am,” he said with a slight bow, “I did not realize you were using the library. I often work here in the morning hours.”

Laura rose and turned half away from him. “Yes, of course,” she replied in a strangled voice. “I was just going.”

“Do you require some assistance?” asked Mr. Dunham drily. “Shall I ring for your maid?” He did not sound really interested.

“No, no,” said Laura. Bending her head, she hurried from the room.

She nearly ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Providentially it was empty. The maids had finished making up the bed. Laura fell into a chair and cried a little more. Why had it to be Mr. Dunham who found her? He disliked her, she was convinced, and he would no doubt run to Eliot with the story at the first opportunity. Her husband would return from visiting his mistress only to hear that his wife had been weeping over his desk. Laura noticed suddenly that she was still holding Vera Allenby’s letter. Eliot would see that it was gone. She nearly groaned aloud. He would despise her, on top of everything else.

Laura struggled to calm herself, and after several minutes she partially succeeded. She looked at the letter again and frowned. The card party mentioned was the one she herself was invited to. Her frown deepened as an idea began to form in her mind.

Then she rose and went to her writing desk, pulling a sheet of paper toward her and dipping a pen into the ink well. She nibbled on the opposite end as she thought. Eliot would be at that card party tonight. Perhaps if she confronted him there, her presence would… Laura paused. Would what? What did she imagine he would do if he saw her at the Allenbys’ party?

Various unpleasant answers to this question occurred to her, but she brushed them resolutely aside and began to write. She would face Eliot and his mistress and make him choose between them. There, at Vera Allenby’s house, he could not continue to deny his connection with her. And once it was out in the open, perhaps they could come to terms. Anything was better than the cold distance and angry disputes which constituted their lives now.

Laura finished her short note of acceptance and sealed it. As she got up to take it downstairs, she glanced in the mirror. The signs of tears were gone; she saw instead a very resolute face, with a crease between the dark eyes and a set mouth. She smiled a little. It was fitting that this was a card party, for she was taking the biggest gamble of her life.

As she walked back up the stairs, Clarissa came out of the breakfast room and greeted her. “Are you going to the drawing room?” she asked. “I shall come with you.”

Thus encouraged, Laura turned toward the drawing room, and soon the sisters were seated side by side on the sofa in front of the window. Clarissa looked down, drumming her fingers on the arm of the divan. Laura stared out the window, lost in thought.

At last Clarissa turned toward her abruptly. “Nancy says you were not feeling well last night. I hope you are better?”

Laura started. “Oh, yes, yes. I am perfectly well now. I was merely tired.” Clarissa nodded, and Laura went on. “Was your party amusing? Did Mrs. Rundgate have dancing, after all?”

“Yes,” replied her sister without animation, “but it was rather silly, you know, just an impromptu hop. I was bored.”

Laura smiled at her expression. “How jaded you are becoming. I can remember when ‘an impromptu hop’ was the summit of your ambition.”

Clarissa smiled now too. “Not the summit, I hope.”

“Indeed. Did you not even say to me once that if you could go to the dance at the squire’s, you would never ask for more?”

Clarissa laughed. “But that was ages ago. I was a child still.”

“It was not quite a year ago,” Laura reminded her.

The younger girl’s eyes widened. “It was, wasn’t it? It seems like another life, like years and years past. How strange.” She gazed off before her.

Laura watched her for a moment, smiling, then said, “How are your driving lessons coming along? You do not find them boring, I fancy?”

Clarissa dimpled and shook her head. “I enjoy them no end. I am becoming quite a first-rate whip, you know.”

“I don’t doubt it. Mr. Redmon is a good teacher then?”

“Splendid.” Clarissa’s eyes grew faraway again, and she rose to walk about the room. “I am certain now, you know, Laura, that I love him.”

Laura sobered quickly. “Are you?” she answered, trying to speak lightly. “You scarcely have had time to really know him, even now.”

Clarissa turned on her. “I do know him,” she insisted. “I do.”

“Ah. And has he… does he return your regard?”

Her sister’s belligerence evaporated, and her face fell. “I do not know that. Sometimes he seems to show a marked preference, but at other times he is very stiff and almost cold. I do not understand it.” She gazed at Laura eagerly. “I have thought, you know, that perhaps it is because of his situation. He does not have much money, I think. Perhaps he fears that would stand in his way.” She looked scornful. “As if I would consider such a thing.”

Laura looked at her hands. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep her promise to Mr. Redmon, and it was beginning to appear unwise as well. Clarissa should be told the truth, whatever the consequences, now that she was becoming involved with him. She determined to have a talk with him at the next opportunity and urge him to tell her. And if he would not, she would.

When she said nothing, Clarissa eyed her. “Do you know anything of his family or his situation?” she asked. “Do you think I am right?” Her answer was obviously important to Clarissa, and Laura hesitated before responding. Clarissa came to sit beside her again and took her hand pleadingly. “Oh Laura, do you know anything? You must help me. I shall never be happy without him.”

Laura looked into her younger sister’s eyes. She had never seen Clarissa so serious. “I can tell you nothing now,” she replied finally, “but I will find out. I will help you.”

Clarissa squeezed her hand and smiled unsteadily. “Oh I knew you would. We have always stood by each other, have we not?” She rose again and paced about. “But I think I know what you will find. From several remarks he has made, I am convinced that Mr. Redmon comes from a respectable but not wealthy family. He has no fortune.” She leaned on the mantel and continued meditatively. “Though that can be cured, I think.”

“What do you mean?” asked Laura.

Her sister looked up sharply. “What? Oh I was merely thinking aloud. It is nothing.”

Laura watched her narrowly. Clarissa’s cheeks reddened slightly, and finally she laughed. “Oh do not look so. I shall do nothing terrible, I promise you. In fact I doubt I shall do anything at all. You must trust me to be wise.”

Laura smiled slightly. “I have little reason to do that, especially after the madcap pranks you have played.”

Clarissa grimaced. “But I am older and wiser now.”

“Older, yes.”

The younger girl laughed again. “Well, you shall see.”

Laura was by no means prepared to leave it at that, but Mr. Dunham entered the drawing room just then to announce some morning visitors. “Mrs. Rundgate and her daughter are below, ma’am,” he told Laura.

“The Rundgates? Oh send them up. I have not seen Mrs. Rundgate for weeks.”

In a moment their callers were upstairs, and the ladies were greeting one another cordially. Laura sat down on the sofa with Mrs. Rundgate, while the two younger girls put their heads together in the corner. Anne’s mother watched them indulgently.

“Girls are so flighty,” she told Laura. “They form what they imagine to be eternal friendships in a moment. Anne insisted upon coming in as we passed by today, even though she and Clarissa had a long talk yesterday. They always find something new to say. Well, well, I am pleased she has chosen a sensible girl like Clarissa.”

Laura, who had been watching the two as Mrs. Rundgate spoke, frowned slightly. Anne was nearly hidden by Clarissa’s back, but the taller girl had moved sharply a moment since, and Laura had caught a glimpse of Anne’s face. Her expression was extremely distraught; indeed she seemed near tears. Then Clarissa had taken her arm and moved to shield her from the others’ gazes. Turning back to Anne’s mother, Laura murmured something noncommittal, but she wondered worriedly whether Clarissa had done something to upset her friend.

“And so, how are you, my dear,” continued Mrs. Rundgate. “I have not really talked to you this age.”

“I am very well, thank you,” said Laura. “I have been busy, as have you, I daresay.”

The older lady sighed, her ample bosom rippling. “I have indeed. It is a prodigious task to launch a daughter, and after three others I am quite worn down. Thank heaven Anne is my last. And I tell you in confidence that I believe she will be off my hands very soon now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, young Whinthorpe’s attentions are becoming quite marked. I think he can be brought to a declaration any day.” She smiled complacently toward the corner where her daughter sat. “A very creditable match.”

Laura considered. “I don’t believe I have met him.”

“Well no, you wouldn’t have. He is just one of the young sprigs, you know, but a very nice gentlemanly boy. I think he will do very well for Anne. She could not be happy with a nonpareil. Wouldn’t do at all.”

Laura said nothing, for to agree with this very true assessment might seem impolite.

“And so, I can return to the country after this season with all my work done,” continued Mrs. Rundgate, “all my girls provided for.”

“I hope I can soon offer my felicitations,” said Laura.

“So do I, indeed, though it never does to count on something as chancy as a young man’s intentions. I will not be easy until it is settled.” She looked at the two younger girls again. “For I don’t mind telling you, my dear, that I have not been entirely easy in my mind about Anne recently. She seems out of spirits much of the time. I think perhaps London does not agree with her. Your sister has been a vast help. She can always pull Anne from a fit of the dismals in a trice.”

“Can she?” asked Laura weakly. She had suddenly remembered Clarissa’s mention of a young soldier in connection with Anne Rundgate, weeks ago.

“Oh yes, it is the most amazing thing. But Clarissa is a high-spirited girl. Just what Anne needs. She tends to mope.”

“Ah,” replied Laura.

Mrs. Rundgate consulted the clock on the mantelpiece and rose. “Anne, we must go. I promised your aunt to arrive by ten, you know.” She turned to Laura. “So good to see you, my dear. I am sorry to hurry off, but I did promise my sister to arrive betimes. We are to visit our old governess together, and she frets if we are late.” All of the ladies rose, and the sisters bid their guests good-bye.