Jane Ashford (19 page)

Laura started violently and jumped up to face her husband.

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you do look terribly tired, Laura. You must take better care of yourself. You seemed to have the burdens of the world on your shoulders as you sat there.”

It was the first time they had spoken alone since the night of the card party, and Laura was buffeted by conflicting emotions. The concern in his voice and the memory of his tenderness made her want to burst into tears and run to his arms, but guilt and fear kept her frozen where she was. Had he heard anything?

Her frightened expression brought her husband further into the room. He looked at her intently. “Are you tired, Laura? And is that all?”

Again he spoke kindly, but the question raised something like panic in the girl. At all costs Eliot must be kept from knowing of her foolish mistakes.

“Yes,” she replied with an attempt at lightness. “Of course. What else?”

He studied her for a moment longer, then made an apparently irrelevant remark. “I received a note from my mother this morning.” He smiled wryly. “Or perhaps I should say, I received a scolding. She will not be coming to visit us.”

“She wrote me also,” said Laura.

“Did she? I am not at all surprised. She found my letter extremely boneheaded, it appears; and after considering the matter in light of her comments, I think she is probably right. I have a damnable temper, Laura, and sometimes it gets the best of me. A visit such as I envisioned would be a mistake, I admit it. I hope you will forgive my hastiness?”

“Oh yes, of course,” said Laura breathlessly. She knew he was being very kind to her, and she wanted to respond. But she could think of nothing but Mr. Allenby and the debt, and this made talking to, or even looking directly at, her husband next to impossible.

His eyebrows drew a little together. “My saving grace,” he went on, “is that my fits of anger pass as quickly as they come, so that in the rare cases when I cannot control them, they at least dissipate, allowing me to make sincere apologies. I fear I have had to make more of them to you than you deserve. It is my inexperience as a husband, perhaps, that makes me fly out at you on occasion. I shall learn better, I promise.” He smiled warmly at her, and Laura tried to return his look. But she clearly did not succeed, for he continued bluntly. “Laura, are you in some sort of trouble?”

“What do you mean?”

“I do not claim to be the most perceptive of men, but even I can see that something is troubling you. I thought all was well with us now.”

“Oh there is nothing. I am perfectly all right. Only tired. You needn’t worry.”

Eliot eyed her questioningly, started to speak, then looked down. There was a pause. When he looked up again, his face was expressionless. “Are you afraid to confide in me?”

At that moment Laura nearly told him the whole. He looked genuinely pained by the idea that she might fear him. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, she thought of how that expression would harden when he knew. She remembered the harsh way he had spoken to her about other more trivial lapses. “Of course not,” she said. “Not at all.”

“You needn’t be.” He came and took her hand. “You mustn’t be.”

“No, no. There is nothing wrong. I am only tired. I think I will go upstairs and lie down a little.” She was desperate to get away, for she could not stand being near him and yet feeling so distant.

He drew away a little. “I will see you at dinner then.”

She raised her eyes. “Will you be home?”

“If you have no objection,” he responded ironically.

“No, no, of course not,” said Laura quickly. She gave him an uncertain smile and hurried from the room.

When she was gone, Eliot remained standing beside the sofa for some time. He was frowning and staring at the fireplace grate. Finally he seemed to come to a decision and went over to ring the bell for Mr. Dunham.

Dinner that evening was quiet. Laura had not completely recovered from her earlier encounter with her husband, and Marina was somewhat ill at ease. Eliot was thoughtful. Only Clarissa seemed to be able to summon any high spirits; she was delighted with Marina’s appearance in one of her gowns, a deep blue crepe. And indeed their visitor’s looks were vastly changed by this dress. While in her plain dressmaker’s gown she had seemed quite attractive and refined, in the new dress she was striking.

Somewhat to Laura’s surprise, Eliot exerted himself to be pleasant. He spoke of Marina’s father and the battle of Marengo, revealing a great deal more knowledge than Laura would have credited to him. In the face of his obvious interest and pleasant manner, Marina soon opened up, and by the time the ladies rose to go up to the drawing room, the group was chatting easily.

Eliot did not linger alone in the dining room but followed them upstairs after a quarter of an hour. Once again Laura was surprised. He sat down with the appearance of one who intended to stay and quite as if it was his habit to spend the evenings in the drawing room. No one else appeared to find this unusual, but Laura was first puzzled, then apprehensive. Was he going to question her further? This thought plunged her into silent gloom. She did not notice that Eliot cast several questioning glances in her direction.

This might well be her last such evening in her home, Laura thought with a twinge of self-pity. Tomorrow she must meet Mr. Allenby. She still did not know what she would say to him, but she had no illusions and no hopes of a favorable outcome. Jack Allenby would ruin her; she was sure of it.

Laura was so engrossed in this train of thought that she started when Mr. Dunham announced from the doorway, “The Earl of Stoke-Mannering.”

The two younger girls were looking at the door, but Eliot saw Laura’s reaction. “What is it?” he asked her.

She shook her head quickly and rose to greet their guest, who had already embarked on a lengthy apology for disturbing them.

“I hope I do not intrude,” the earl was saying. “This fashion of calling whenever one pleases, without so much as a note sent round in warning, makes me quite uneasy, I can tell you. But everyone says it is ‘all the crack.’ I abhor all forms of slang, but there is something striking about that phrase, is there not? I heard another last night—‘shot the cat.’ It signifies inebriated. Is that not odd? I can’t think why.”

Eliot was smiling, and Clarissa stifled a giggle, but Laura had lost the thread of his speech in her effort to gather her wits and said only, “Ah.”

“Though I cannot, of course, be certain,” said Eliot, “I understand the phrase is of Cockney origin and relates to the possibility of eccentric behavior when in that state.”

“Does it indeed?” replied the earl interestedly. At this point he noticed Marina and greeted her effusively. The two sat down with Clarissa on one of the sofas. Eliot and Laura, taking another, watched him launch a discussion of balloons. He seemed very knowledgeable about their workings.

“I do not think your sister has overmuch interest in aeronautics,” said Eliot. “Lamentable.”

Laura smiled. “He means well.”

“I concede that, but I confess the phrase is one that always makes my blood run cold. What horrors are perpetuated in the name of meaning well!”

Laura’s smile faded. This hit rather too near the mark. “It is true,” she said seriously, looking away.

He watched her closely but went on in the same tone. “Indeed I think the world might be much better off if people meant ill far more often. Then, at least, one would know how to respond; there would be none of this infuriating self-righteousness. Yes, I think bad motives are what is wanted.”

Laura shook her head, her expression lightening again. “How absurd you are. My cousin brings out a whole new side of you.”

Eliot looked surprised. “Do you find it new?” He frowned. “Perhaps you are right.”

Before Laura could reply to this somewhat puzzling remark, Clarissa spoke to them. “Cousin Matthew has invited us to attend a balloon ascension tomorrow, Laura. What say you?” Her expression indicated that she hoped Laura would refuse.

Her sister hesitated. They had no engagement for that afternoon, and Marina looked interested in the outing. “It sounds delightful,” she answered, earning a reproachful glance from Clarissa.

“Indeed,” added Eliot unexpectedly, “I have just realized that I have never seen a balloon ascension. I believe I will accompany you.”

Laura and Clarissa stared at Eliot incredulously, but the earl beamed. “Splendid,” he said. “I think everyone will find it most educational. These apparatus are very delicate and extremely interesting, you know.”

“So I have heard,” said Eliot drily. “When is it?”

“At three,” answered their guest. “But one must be on the field rather before the time in order to get a good place. I shall come round at one.”

Eliot acknowledged this. “I shall drive my curricle.” The earl seemed a bit disappointed that Eliot would not join him in his own vehicle. He turned to tell the ladies about the team he would drive.

“Doubtless you will ride with me?” Eliot murmured to Laura as the earl took his leave a few minutes later.

She nodded, smiling.

Their guest was hardly gone when Clarissa burst out, “What a bore! Balloons! Who cares a fig for balloons? Isn’t he a perfect toad, Marina?”

Marina looked down. “I was not really so bored.”

Clarissa was astonished. She shook her head, then grinned good-naturedly and shrugged also. “There is no accounting for tastes.”

Marina rose. “I am very tired. I believe I will go to bed early, if you will excuse me.”

Eliot also rose. “I must go too. I promised to meet March at White’s. I shall see you tomorrow at the balloon ascension.” He smiled again, bowed slightly, and left the room.

“Well,” said Clarissa when he was gone, “whatever has come over him? I have never seen him so pleasant.”

Laura shook her head, her eyes still on the door where Eliot had disappeared. Clarissa looked at her face for a moment; then she also rose. “Well I shall go to bed too, I suppose. I must be in good form for this outing tomorrow. It will take all my self-control to be civil, so I had better be well rested.”

Laughing, Laura stood. “I will go up with you.”

As they started up the stairs, Clarissa said, “Can Marina have meant it when she said that she was not bored by our cousin, do you think? I could hardly believe my ears.”

“Perhaps she is interested in balloons. Some people are, after all.”

Clarissa shrugged.

They reached the upstairs hall and were about to say good night when Laura’s name was called from the head of the stairs. She turned to find Mr. Dunham there, holding an envelope out to her. “This arrived just before dinner, ma’am,” he said blandly. “I thought it best not to interrupt your meal.”

Laura took it from him slowly. Mr. Dunham’s eyes seemed cold and unfeeling to her, and she had come to hate receiving letters. “Thank you, Mr. Dunham,” she said. The man bowed and disappeared down the stairs once more.

Both sisters stared at the envelope without moving. “Do you think it is another from
him
?” Clarissa whispered finally, her eyes wide with concern.

Laura took a breath. “I do not know… and will not until I open it.” She turned toward her bedroom, and Clarissa followed her in.

Mary was there waiting for her and dropped a small curtsy. But the smile on her face faded at their expressions. “That will be all for tonight, Mary,” said Laura. “I shan’t need you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered the maid. Her round red face crinkled into a worried frown as she went out.

Laura sank immediately onto the chair in front of her dressing table. She looked at the letter for another moment, then tore it open and read the short note. She fell back when she had finished and cast a despairing glance at her sister. “It is from Mr. Allenby. He says only that he looks forward to seeing me tomorrow evening and that I mustn’t put it off again.” She put her head in her hands.

Clarissa clenched her fists. “That man is an utter brute. How I wish I could kill him!”

“Clarissa!”

“I do. Why should I not? He does not deserve to live.”

“You are overwrought. And killing Mr. Allenby would solve nothing. It would not pay my notes or stop people from talking about my appearance at that awful party. Be sensible.”

Clarissa hung her head. “I’m sorry. But it makes me so angry to see you being treated in this way. You do not deserve it, Laura. I am the one who always got into scrapes and counted on you to rescue me. I should be the one in trouble now.”

This absurdity drew a laugh from Laura even in her current state. “What a goose you are, Clarissa. How would that mend matters? Do be quiet.”

Clarissa looked down again and pounded on the dressing table fiercely. “What can I do?” she cried. “There must be something.”

Laura looked at her. “You can stand by me,” she said seriously. “I may need it after tomorrow.”

Her sister stared at her for a moment, aghast, then burst into tears.

Curiously Clarissa’s sobs seemed to harden Laura’s resolve. “Please, Clarissa,” she said, “this will do us no good. I thank you for your concern, but do not cry, I beg you.”

Slowly the younger girl regained control of herself. “I am sorry,” she sniffed, “but I cannot bear to see you so.”

Laura sighed. “I admit I can see no way out of this tangle. Unless perhaps I can persuade Mr. Allenby to let me pay him gradually.”

Clarissa frowned. “I think not. But we are forgetting the other letter you received. Someone is trying to help you; perhaps they will manage something.”

Laura’s expression did not lighten. “That is no comfort to me. I cannot trust an unsigned note, Clarissa. Most likely it was a cruel prank.” She nodded to herself. “Yes, the more I think about it, the more convinced I become that that is what it was.”

“No!” exclaimed the younger girl. “I will not believe that. I refuse. It is too horrid. Someone is trying to help you; I know it!”

Laura shrugged. “As you will.”

A silence fell as both girls contemplated Laura’s predicament. Their expressions became more and more doleful.

“You are certain,” said Clarissa some time later, “that you cannot go to our aunts?”

Her sister shook her head. “I will not.”

“And you still refuse to let me go to Eliot?”

“We have talked this over already, Clarissa. I do refuse. But it would not work in any case. Indeed it might make things even worse.”

Clarissa sighed. “If only there were someone else…”

“There is not, and I forbid you to speak of this to anyone at all. I will not have you going to anyone to ask for money.”

Clarissa’s chin came up. “What do you think me? Of course I would not.”

Laura nodded. “We may as well go to bed now. There is nothing to be done.”

Her sister looked at her stony countenance, started to hold out a hand, then looked down and turned away. “All right,” she replied in a muffled voice. “But I shan’t sleep. I am going to think of a plan to save you, Laura.”

The older girl made a gesture, and Clarissa went out. When the door shut behind her, Laura’s head sank and her shoulders drooped. It was a long time before she summoned the energy to undress and fall into bed.