Jane Ashford (17 page)

“Clarissa, what is wrong?” her sister asked her.

The younger girl turned. “Wrong?”

“Yes, you are abstracted, and you look worried. Has something happened to upset you? You cannot still be angry over our quarrel.”

“No, no, of course not,” her sister answered impatiently. “There is nothing wrong. I am only rather tired out, I think. I believe I will go upstairs and lie down on my bed for half an hour.”

Before Laura could reply, she was gone, and her sister was left to gape after her incredulously. She had never known Clarissa to lie down during the day in the whole course of her life.

Late that afternoon an observer on Regent Street might have seen Laura Crenshaw come out the front door of her house and descend the steps to the street. Had he been at all familiar with her habits, he might have noted that she was dressed with unusual somberness in a dark gray gown with half cloak and matching bonnet. She also looked rather pale.

Laura, walking quickly to the corner of the street and hailing a hack, was in fact dry-mouthed and quaking inside, though her expression remained fixed. The plan she had pondered all day had gradually begun to seem her only hope, and after tea she had finally resolved to follow it. She was now on her way to the premises of Mr. Levy, chief of the moneylenders, to try to get the two thousand pounds she owed. She knew this was not wise, but she felt if she could just get the money, find her creditors, and pay them quickly, the whole horrid incident might pass without scandal. Perhaps by some miracle no one would tell Eliot she had been at that card party and last night might indeed be a new start for them.

A hack set her down in Gold Street, the driver looking about him dubiously. He did not want to wait for her, but Laura gave him a sovereign, and he agreed to do so. “Be you sartin of this h’address, ma’am?” he asked her, and Laura nodded quickly as she turned to knock on the door. She must not stop to think, else her courage might wholly dissolve.

The door was opened by a neat parlormaid, to Laura’s surprise and relief. She had somehow expected a strange and alien welcome. When she asked to see Mr. Levy, the girl curtsied slightly and said she believed Mr. Levy was occupied and would she care to wait. Laura almost cried out with nerves and frustration; how could she sit and wait? But she nodded, and the maid conducted her to a salon off the hall.

She sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa before the fireplace, stared out the window, and began to rehearse again what she would say to the moneylender. She would ask to borrow the necessary sum and to pay it back in the course of a year. This she could easily manage by curtailing her purchases. She took a piece of paper from her reticule and looked again at the figures she had written there this morning. Yes, she could do it.

Two voices were audible in the next room. One was a woman’s, and Laura felt another pang of relief. Mr. Levy must be talking with another client, another woman. For some reason this made her feel much better. She was not the only female to come to him.

She raised her eyes and for the first time looked about her. The salon was not distinguished, though the furnishings and hangings were of good quality and not worn. The only striking thing in the room was a portrait that hung over the mantel. It was of a lovely dark woman with flashing eyes and an aquiline nose. She wore a magnificent gown of amber satin, with diamonds at her neck and wrists and in her hair. Laura gazed at the picture. The woman looked extremely independent and almost fierce, she thought. She did not seem in keeping with this rather drab salon. She certainly never would have been a supplicant here.

The voices from next door grew louder. Was the woman having some trouble? Did Mr. Levy argue with his clients? Lord Farnsworth had given her the impression that one merely asked for the money and was given it. When she thought about this, Laura realized that it was extremely unlikely. She would undoubtedly have to make some guarantee. She put her hand nervously to the pearls at her throat, then rose and moved closer to the opposite wall. There was a connecting door to the room from which the voices came.

Somewhat shamefaced, she put her ear to the door. The man was saying, “But you must tell me your name, miss. You must see that I cannot lend money to unknown persons. What guarantee would I have that they could pay it back?” He sounded as if he were trying to reason with a child. His voice was smooth, but hard, it seemed to Laura.

“But I shall leave the necklace,” replied the woman. “Is that not enough?” Laura’s brows snapped together. This voice was familiar!

“I fear not,” Mr. Levy was saying. “I know something about jewels, and these are not worth the sum you request. I shall need other security. It would be sufficient if I knew your family and their circumstances. You must see what I mean.” Though his words were not unkind, their tone was devoid of interest or compassion.

“I cannot tell you,” said the woman. “If my family found out I was here…” She trailed off, but Laura was now sure of the speaker’s identity. She reached down and tried the door handle; it was not locked. She thrust it open and strode into the next room just as the man was saying, “You can trust my discretion.”

“Clarissa!” cried Laura. “What are you doing here?”

Her sister whirled and stared at her, dumbfounded. “Laura! How did you know? How did you find me?”

The sisters stared at each other. “Why are you here?” repeated Laura.

Clarissa sighed, and her shoulders seemed to droop. “It was a stupid scheme, I daresay. I shall have to abandon it.”

At this point Mr. Levy intervened. “I take it you are a friend of my client?” he asked smoothly.

Laura turned to him. Mr. Levy was not at all what she had expected. He was a distinguished dark man, with cropped black hair touched with white at the temples and a very smart coat. He fingered a heavy gold watch chain that hung on his waistcoat and watched her speculatively from dark eyes. “I am her sister,” answered Laura, raising her chin and hardening her jaw.

“Ah,” was the only reply.

“And I shan’t let her borrow money. How could you even consider it, Clarissa?” Clarissa continued to look at the floor.

“I see. You followed her here, I suppose,” Mr. Levy said. “Well perhaps it’s just as well.”

“But you can’t have, Laura,” put in Clarissa then. “I came from the Rundgates. I was there all afternoon, and I told no one of this plan, not even Nancy. How did you find me?”

Laura felt her cheeks grow hot, but before she could reply, Mr. Levy said, “Perhaps you did not pursue your sister? Perhaps you have come on your own errand?”

Laura flushed even more deeply. “No,” she faltered. “That is, I…”

Clarissa suddenly put a hand to her forehead and began to laugh. “You did, Laura, you did. What a hopeless muddle.”

Levy smiled blandly. “Perhaps, then, something can still be arranged. You ladies have only to tell me your last names, and we can discuss the matter.”

Clarissa sobered instantly. Both sisters cried, “No,” at the same moment.

“I have changed my mind in any case,” continued Laura positively. “I was foolish to come here.”

Mr. Levy spread his hands.

“We both were,” added Clarissa. “Come, let us go home.”

Laura agreed, and the two girls turned to leave. As they passed the open door of the salon, Laura glanced in; the picture above the mantel was clearly visible behind her, and she felt the woman’s fierce gaze was approving.

“Wait,” said Mr. Levy sharply.

Laura turned, raising her eyebrows.

“Perhaps I can help you. What is your trouble?” The man’s composure seemed broken for some reason.

“It does not matter,” said Laura shortly, and signaling to her sister, she went out. They climbed into Laura’s waiting hack and started home.

Laura, frowning, turned to her younger sister. “Why did you go there, Clarissa? Are you in debt?”

Clarissa flushed and gazed out the window of the carriage. “No,” she replied with some reserve, “I…” She seemed at a loss.

“You what? Why did you need to borrow money? Could you not have come to me?”

“It was a scheme I had,” blurted Clarissa. “I could not ask you for the sum I needed. And besides, I knew you would disapprove and stop me.”

Laura frowned. “Very likely. What was this scheme?”

Clarissa looked down at her folded hands. “Don’t scold, Laura. I hoped to make Mr. Redmon’s fortune, you see, so that he might feel free to marry…” She trailed off a bit breathlessly.

Laura’s frown had given way to astonishment. “Make Mr. Redmon’s fortune by borrowing from a moneylender? Surely this is a foolish start even for you, Clarissa.”

Her sister’s chin came up. “I needed a large sum,” she said. “I was going to bet ten thousand pounds on Devon Lady.”

“Devon Lady? What do you mean?”

“It is a horse,” Clarissa answered. She saw that Laura was about to speak, so she hurried on. “A sweet goer, Laura. I am sure she will win. We saw her exercising during one of our driving lessons, and Mr. Redmon told me a great deal about her. He knows all the bloodlines, you see. It is quite fantastic. Devon Lady is one of the Duke of Millshire’s horses and Mr. Redmon says she is certain to win the big race this week. But she is unknown in racing circles as yet, so the odds are very long.”

“Long?” replied Laura dazedly, aghast at this revelation. “Clarissa, you are talking like a groom. Have you gone mad?”

“No, no, you do not understand these things, Laura,” said her sister earnestly. “You never cared for horses. This one is a marvel, I promise you. I have seen her, remember. I
know
she will win, and at twenty to one, ten thousand pounds would win two hundred thousand. A fortune, Laura! It would set up Mr. Redmon for anything he chooses.”

Laura shook her head as if to clear it. “Let me understand you thoroughly. You planned to borrow this money, bet it on a horse, and then give it to Mr. Redmon?”

Clarissa nodded. “Of course I would have repaid the loan out of the winnings, so the total would not have been quite two hundred thousand.”

“How did you expect to persuade Mr. Redmon to accept such a sum from you?”

“Oh he never would have known that it came from me. Do you think me utterly shatterbrained? I should have sent it anonymously.”

Laura’s eyes bulged a little, and it took her a moment to recover her voice. “An anonymous package containing two hundred thousand pounds,” she said to herself wonderingly.

“Only one hundred ninety thousand,” put in Clarissa.

Laura shook her head again. “And how did you mean to place such a bet? I suppose you planned to walk boldly into Tattersall’s without being noticed?”

Clarissa giggled a little at this impossible picture. “Oh no. Nancy found a way around that. I admit it puzzled me too, at first. But she has a friend who would place the bet for us.”

“Or go off with your ten thousand,” responded Laura drily.

“No, he is a very close friend. And completely trustworthy, Nancy says.”

Laura set aside the question of this unknown man’s trustworthiness and that of the unwisdom of confiding such schemes to the servants, and turned to her sister earnestly. “You talk of this so lightly, Clarissa. I am shocked. Have you no notion of how wrong and foolish you have been?”

Clarissa hung her head. “I knew all along it was foolish,” she said, “but I could see no other way. You just do not understand, Laura, how vitally important this is. As long as Mr. Redmon is so poor…”

She left it to her sister to finish this thought. “He cannot offer for you. Well I confess I am at a loss. I can only say that I never have heard of such a brazen and harebrained scheme in my life.”

“But, Laura,” replied her sister almost pleadingly, “if you truly understood how I feel about him. I would do anything…”

“Obviously,” interrupted the older girl unsympathetically. “Even go to a moneylender. Oh Clarissa, how could you?”

Her sister looked at her defiantly. “Well you needn’t act so self-righteous. It’s what you were about to do yourself, isn’t it?”

Laura stared at her. She was right, of course, and suddenly it was as if Laura woke from a bad dream. Clarissa had been foolish and unwise, but she herself had been far worse. What had inspired her to be so utterly lost to prudence and propriety? It was entirely her own fault that she was in her current fix, and she blamed herself bitterly.

Clarissa was frightened by her expression. “Laura, what is it?” she cried. “You are in trouble of some kind, are you not? How selfish I have been not to see it. What has happened? Tell me.”

Laura looked at her with tragic eyes for a moment. How could she burden her sister with this awful story? But the eager sympathy and love in Clarissa’s eyes was too much for her. She stumblingly told her the whole, often pausing to gulp back tears.

***

By the time Laura had finished, they had reached home. As they climbed down from the hack, Clarissa squeezed Laura’s hand. It took only a moment to reach Laura’s bedchamber, and there the younger girl hugged her. “Poor darling,” she said. “How worried and upset you must have been, and I have not paid any heed. I am a beast.”

This brought a smile to Laura’s lips. She was thankful and a bit surprised that Clarissa did not seem in the least shocked by her dilemma.

The younger girl plumped herself down on the bed. “So the thing now is to get money,” she said, biting her thumbnail and frowning. “You know, Laura, I daresay our aunts might give it to you.”

Laura shook her head miserably. “I could not ask it of them. Two thousand pounds would be a half year’s income.”

“Would it?” responded Clarissa absently. “But they have the house and things, and I daresay some savings. However you are probably right. We shall have to think of something else.” She frowned again, then brightened. “I might go to Eliot,” she said. “I could tell him that I had been foolishly lured into a card game and lost the money before I knew it. It is nearly the truth. I daresay he would be angry, but if I swore I had learned my lesson, he would relent and give me the money, I’m sure. And what is two thousand pounds to him? Nothing.”

“I could not let you do such a thing, Clarissa. What would Eliot think of you?”

“Well,” answered Clarissa practically, “it doesn’t matter overmuch what he thinks of me. It is what he thinks of
you
that is important, is it not?”

Laura flushed. “I must go to him and make a clean breast of it,” she sighed. “It is the only right thing to do.”

“Nonsense,” cried her sister. “It is the most foolish of all things to do. Let
me
ask Eliot for the money. It can do no harm.”

“No. I have been wickedly imprudent, but I will not compound it by allowing you to bear the blame. That scheme will not do. Besides, a great many people saw me at the card party. Who can say but that one may mention it to Eliot. Then he will immediately suspect the money was for me.”