Jane Ashford (4 page)

“Yes,” replied the girl, opening her large blue eyes even further, “I am. It is very exciting.” Her voice was very soft and mild.

“I should say so,” put in Clarissa. “A ball! I never have attended anything but country assemblies.”

The glance that Anne cast at her taller companion was half admiring, half fearful. “Nor have I,” she answered, almost inaudibly.

“You will require gowns,” said Lady Quale. “Antoinette’s on Bond Street is the best place to go.”

“Yes indeed; we were there this morning,” answered Clarissa blandly. “A charming shop.” She ignored her sister’s warning look.

Mrs. Rundgate smiled slightly, and Lady Quale raised her eyebrows.

“It is very kind of you to tell us,” put in Laura hastily. “We will need advice on such things, I daresay, since this is our first trip to town.”

Lady Quale’s expression became somewhat less stiff, and she assured Laura that she was completely at her service. “But now we must go,” she added, rising. “So many calls to make, you know.”

Laura stood also. “Indeed. It was kind of you to come.”

The three older ladies were all graciousness as they departed, each promising Laura an invitation to her next entertainment and smiling slightly superciliously when Clarissa bid them good day.

When they were gone and Laura had sat down again, Mrs. Rundgate chuckled. “I know just how you feel, my dear,” she said to Clarissa, “but you must not antagonize those ladies. It would do you a great deal of harm, believe me. They have monstrous sharp tongues, and many people find them amusing.”

Clarissa looked both rebellious and thoughtful. “It just made me so angry, ma’am, to hear how condescendingly they spoke to Laura. And me.”

Mrs. Rundgate nodded. “I daresay. Well I tell you only what is true, my dear. You must decide for yourself.” She turned back to Laura, leaving Clarissa to ponder her advice and talk to her daughter. “And so you are bringing your sister out this year? But you are really making your come-out as well, I understand. You have not been to town before?”

Laura nodded.

“Well if there is any way I can help, I would be glad to do it. You have only to say so.”

“Thank you. You are very kind.”

Mrs. Rundgate shrugged. “I doubt you will need me. Your husband can give you a hint on most things. He is vastly fashionable. But if there is any matter on which you want a woman’s opinion, I hope you will come to me. Anne Crenshaw is prodigiously pleased with her new daughter-in-law, and I see that she is right.”

Laura flushed a little. “Thank you,” she said again.

The older woman made a deprecating gesture.

Laura felt very much at ease with this offhand visitor. She ventured a hesitant question. “You say Mr. Crenshaw, Eliot, is very fashionable?”

“Oh lud, yes. He is one of the Corinthians, my dear. One can tell just by looking at him.”

Still more diffidently, Laura said, “I suppose one can, if one knows about such things. But I admit I am not precisely certain what a Corinthian may be, Mrs. Rundgate.” With anyone less sympathetic, Laura never would have dared to continue thus.

Mrs. Rundgate seemed at a loss. “Well, la, let me see. A Corinthian is a gentleman who sets the fashion in dress, very scrupulous, you know. All the young men ape him. That is, not
all
of them, not the dandies, of course. They have their own mode. Well, ah, Corinthians are great sportsmen though. They patronize the boxing saloons and that sort of thing. And they have an air about them. That is the chief thing, I suppose. They have a kind of assurance and polish. What a mull I am making of this explanation! I find that though I know perfectly well what a Corinthian is, I cannot seem to define one.”

“It is a rather indefinable thing, perhaps,” Laura suggested.

Mrs. Rundgate looked relieved. “That’s exactly it. One never knows just what it is makes a man striking, but one sees it. Why, you must have noticed Eliot’s distinguished manner… and the set he frequents? Top of the trees, my dear, top of the trees.”

Laura nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

They chatted for ten minutes more about the Rundgates’ ball and other events of the coming season. Clarissa and Anne discussed clothes, or rather Anne listened while Clarissa did so. Then Mrs. Rundgate rose and declared that they must go. Their good-byes were much more cordial than those of the first callers, and Clarissa made an engagement to walk in the park with Miss Rundgate very soon.

***

When they were alone in the drawing room again, Clarissa said, “She is a little ninnyhammer, but quite nice. I shall make a push to rouse her spirit.”

“Anne Rundgate?”

Clarissa nodded. “She is a good little mouse. But perhaps it is just shyness. We shall see.” She rose. “I believe I will go upstairs. I want to go through the clothes I brought from home and decide what is suitable for London and what is not. I must shop more systematically than I did today, and Anne Rundgate has given me several ideas. She knows what is in fashion just now, I will give her that. Do you care to come with me?”

Laura was about to agree when Mr. Dunham entered the room again. His expression was rather odd. “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said, “but there is another caller below. I was not sure, but I thought perhaps you were fatigued and did not care for more visitors. I said I rather expected you were out.”

Surprised, Laura said, “Who is it?”

“Ah, it is Mrs. Allenby.”

“Allenby? I don’t know the name.” Laura looked inquiringly at Clarissa, who shrugged.

“How old is this lady?” Clarissa asked, turning to Mr. Dunham with a sudden suspicion. “I cannot endure another old tabby,” she explained to Laura.

“As to that miss, she is not old. But ah, well…”

Mr. Dunham seemed at a loss, and Laura was perplexed. She had not thought this self-possessed gentleman could be so awkward. “Is something wrong?” she asked him.

“No ma’am.” Mr. Dunham’s face was wooden. “I only thought you might be tired.”

Clearly this was not the whole truth. But it was also obvious that Mr. Dunham did not mean to tell her what was wrong. “I am not at all tired. Are you, Clarissa?” Her sister shook her head. “Well send the lady up then, Mr. Dunham.” The man left the room, rather reluctantly Laura thought, and when he ushered Mrs. Allenby in, he lingered a moment as if he did not wish to leave them.

Looking at Mrs. Allenby, Laura got some idea of the reason for his unease. This caller was quite the most dashing woman she had ever seen. She looked to be about thirty years of age, and she was a gorgeous redhead with flashing green eyes and a beautiful figure. Her gown was enough to make Clarissa speechless with envy, though it was a bit daring for Laura’s taste. It was cut very low and made of tissue-thin sea green muslin. Laura had a notion that the lady’s petticoat was damped from the way the dress clung to her.

Their visitor had paused a moment in the doorway, surveying the sisters as they did her. Now she came forward and held out her hand. “Hello,” she said in a low, musical voice. “You must forgive me for calling without a proper introduction, but our husbands are such friends, you see, and I hoped we might be also.”

Laura felt a flash of uneasiness as she replied to this greeting, but she dismissed it immediately. She asked her guest to sit down and introduced her sister. Clarissa eyed Mrs. Allenby with a mixture of envy and challenge in her glance.

“What a charming room,” said the latter. “Eliot has found a lovely house for you.”

Something patronizing in her tone made Laura’s chin go up a bit. “Thank you.”

There was a pause. Mrs. Allenby was gazing about the room, taking in all its details and summing up the sisters in short side glances. She did not seem to feel obliged to make conversation.

Finally Clarissa spoke. “Did we meet your husband at the play last night?” she asked. “We met a great many of Mr. Crenshaw’s friends. I fear I have forgotten the names.”

Mrs. Allenby turned to her, smiling faintly. “Last night? No, we were not at the play last night. We had a dinner engagement.”

“Ah,” replied Clarissa.

There was another silence.

Finally Laura ventured, “Are you just returned to town also?”

“Oh yes,” answered Mrs. Allenby carelessly. “We always go to Melton for the hunting. Do you hunt, Mrs. Crenshaw?” She gave the name a satirical lilt.

“No,” said Laura. She did not tell her visitor that her aunts had never permitted it.

“A pity. Eliot has such a lovely place up in Melton. Perhaps you will take it up.”

“Perhaps.” Laura was beginning to think that she did not like Mrs. Allenby. Was this what the wife of a Corinthian was like, she wondered?

“I should like to hunt,” said Clarissa. “You must ask me for a visit, Laura.”

Mrs. Allenby smiled slightly again. “I am giving a small card party tomorrow,” she said. “That is really why I called. I hope you will come. I believe Eliot means to be there.”

For some reason this invitation did not please Laura as the others had. “I am not certain,” she replied. “I believe we may be promised for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Ah. Too bad. But you may look in afterward, if you like. We shall start late and keep on forever, I daresay. It is usually so. Come by for a moment, at least.”

“I cannot promise,” replied Laura.

“But you will try?” asked her guest, with more directness than good manners.

Laura bowed her head, making no promises.

“Well then, it is settled. And now I fear I must go. I do so hope to see you tomorrow.” She rose, brushing aside Laura’s offer to ring for Mr. Dunham, and left the room.

“Well,” said Clarissa when they were alone, “I am not sure I like her, but how dashing!”

“Yes,” answered Laura absently.

“Of course, I know I cannot have a dress like that, not now, but someday I shall.”

Laura was not really listening.

“I suppose it is all envy. After all, she was polite enough. Did you like her, Laura?”

“What? Oh I suppose so. She stayed only five minutes. I hardly know.”

“Well I think we should go to her card party. I daresay we would meet some very interesting people there. Are we engaged for dinner?”

Laura shook her head. “I said so because I was not certain I wished to go. We have so much to do.”

Clarissa appeared much struck by this. “Indeed what would I wear to such a party? The gowns I have would make me look a dowd next to Mrs. Allenby. You are right.”

Laura smiled. “Well I did not positively refuse. If Eliot is going, he may wish us to come. I will ask him.”

Clarissa nodded. “And now I am going upstairs before anyone else arrives. I must look over my things.”

Laura rose with her, and the two sisters went out of the room and up the stairs.

Dinner that evening was somewhat stiff at first. Eliot had been out all day and returned only just before the meal. Laura and Clarissa were waiting in the drawing room when he came downstairs. He apologized punctiliously. “I’m afraid my friends are not yet accustomed to the idea that I am married. I could not get away. But it will not happen in the future. I hope I did not keep you waiting long.”

This explanation embarrassed Laura. She did not wish to keep him from his usual activities. And so she reassured him hastily and was rather silent during the first part of the meal. Clarissa addressed herself to the excellent ragout of beef at first, then she began to tell Mr. Crenshaw of their day.

A description of their shopping expedition seemed to amuse Eliot. Clarissa told him which establishments they had visited and how they had gotten on. “Madame Antoinette is odiously snobbish, of course. I could see that in a moment. But when we told her that we would need several gowns, each of us, she unbent amazingly.” Clarissa dimpled. “It was quite funny. And she seemed impressed when Laura told her her name. Are you known to Madame Antoinette, Mr. Crenshaw?”

He smiled at her. “I do not know the lady personally, but I believe she has a very shrewd sense of London society. She is said to be able to judge one’s fortune to a sou. She must be a formidable woman.”

“Oh yes,” answered Clarissa, “but we found the loveliest ball gown imaginable for Laura. It is pink—not that rubbishy pastel pink that schoolgirls wear, but deep pink, you know, rose pink. She looks ravishingly pretty in it.”

“I am sure she does.” Eliot looked at her, and Laura felt herself blush.

“Indeed. And I ordered a white gown trimmed with silver ribbon. I shall wear it to Mrs. Rundgate’s ball,” she told Laura.

Eliot raised one eyebrow. “Has Mrs. Rundgate been here then?”

“Oh yes,” continued Clarissa ebulliently. “We had several callers this afternoon. It was very exciting.” Her brow darkened. “Except when those three old harpy friends of our aunts’ began questioning us so closely. You cannot think, Mr. Crenshaw, how infuriating it was. I wanted to slap them, especially Lady Quale.”

Eliot laughed. “An impulse shared by many in London, I understand. Who were the other two harpies?” Clarissa told him, and he nodded. “Well they are considered amusing in some circles, I know. It is too bad that you did not find them so, for they have influence. Do you agree with your sister’s opinion, Laura?”

Laura looked down at her plate, frowning. “They did ask impertinent questions, but they are old friends of my aunts, after all, and perhaps they felt they had the right. I did not mind them overmuch. I can see why people find them amusing.”

“Well so they were when they left off catechizing us and turned to other subjects,” said Clarissa. She repeated some of their assessments of the
ton
’s young bachelors to Eliot’s great enjoyment.

“They described young Farnsworth to the life,” he laughed. “What do you think of him now?”

Clarissa shrugged. “I see nothing to fear in someone ‘wealthy and wellborn but a complete nodcock.’ And in any case he has not called, so the question has not arisen, Mr. Crenshaw.”

Still smiling, he replied, “You must leave off calling me Mr. Crenshaw. It makes me feel a stranger in my own house. We are brother and sister now, after all.”

Clarissa was taken aback. “What am I to call you then?”

He laughed. “We might begin with Eliot. Later, when you know me better, I daresay you will find other names.”

Clarissa laughed. “Very well, Eliot.”

He nodded and turned to Laura. “How is Mrs. Rundgate? I have not seen her in years, though she and my mother are bosom friends. Is she as lazy as ever?”

Laura smiled. “She seemed very pleasant and easygoing. I liked her. She is bringing out her daughter Anne this season, you know.”

“I did not. In fact I had forgotten she had a daughter. However, it does not surprise me. And now that I think of it, didn’t she bring out a daughter already? Two years ago perhaps?”

Laura signified ignorance, but Clarissa said, “Three years ago. Anne is the youngest of her children by several years.”

“Ah, I knew I had heard of another.”

“You did not meet her?” asked Laura.

“Them,” put in her sister before Eliot could answer. “Mrs. Rundgate has four daughters, all married but Anne.”

“You don’t say,” replied the man. “Can I have missed them all?”

Both girls smiled, and Laura said, “You are not in the habit of attending the come-outs, I take it?”

“Exactly. But now that you have brought it to my attention, I must express my admiration for Mrs. Rundgate. Three daughters disposed of and another just fired off. She has more fortitude than I had imagined.”

Laura laughed. “Is it such a labor?”

“You have no idea. And if her daughters are the ninnyhammers I suspect them to be, it is even harder.”

Clarissa raised her eyebrows. “Why do you suspect that?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Ella Rundgate has no very strong understanding, and her husband is no better. I would be astonished if they had produced offspring of more than average intelligence; indeed I would be surprised at their being even average.”

Clarissa considered this. “Well I admit that Anne seemed to me a rather biddable girl. But she is very sweet.”

“A damning sketch. I shall endeavor to avoid this cloying damsel. She sounds like a dead bore.”

Clarissa giggled, and Laura could not help smiling. “I see that Lady Quale is not the only Londoner with a sharp tongue,” she said.

“Touché,” laughed Eliot, seeming much struck. He looked at Laura appreciatively. “And so you have had a busy afternoon. Five visitors.”

“Six,” corrected Clarissa. “We have not told you about the last. And she was the most interesting.”

“Ah. And who was that?”

“A Mrs. Allenby,” answered the younger girl, “and what a dasher she is. I have never seen such a dress.”

Laura was watching her husband, and she thought she saw an arrested expression in his eyes, though his face remained impassive.

“Mrs. Allenby,” he echoed meditatively. “She called here?”

“Yes, and she asked us to a card party tomorrow. Laura does not wish to go, I think, but I am sure it would be very elegant. I should like to see it.”

Eliot met Laura’s eyes. “No,” he said blandly, “once again I believe Laura is right. I doubt you would enjoy it.”

“Really? But she said you were going. Don’t you wish us to come?” The innocence in Clarissa’s voice was a bit too deliberate.

“Did she?” asked Eliot, with no obvious reaction. “She was mistaken. I had no plans to attend.”

“Oh,” Clarissa said.

Laura almost added, “Had?” But she restrained the impulse. Her husband’s tone had not been encouraging.

They had all finished eating some minutes ago, and now Laura signaled her sister that it was time to retire. They went up to the drawing room together, leaving Eliot over his wine.

When they sat down, Clarissa said, “I do not believe Eliot wishes us to know Mrs. Allenby. It is irritating; we have only exchanged one set of guardians for another. Why should we not go to her card party if we like?”

Laura shrugged. “For my part I have no great desire to go.”

Clarissa looked disgusted. “Oh are we never to go out?”

Her sister smiled. “We went out today, our first day in town, and we have been invited to several parties already. Do not exaggerate, Clarissa. You will soon have your fill of society.”

But the girl was not mollified. “I shall never have my fill, after eighteen years of none at all. I am going upstairs. Nancy has promised to help me sew up my blue crepe, the one I tore so badly last week.” And she strode out of the room.

***

Thus, when Eliot entered the drawing room some minutes later, he found Laura alone there, reading. He looked around inquiringly, and she said, “Clarissa has gone up to do some sewing.”

He nodded and sat down beside her. “That is just as well. I want to talk to you.”

“About Mrs. Allenby?”

His face showed faint surprise. “You have guessed that? Well that is all to the good. Mrs. Allenby belongs to a very fast set. She skirts very near the line, in fact. She would not be a suitable friend for Clarissa by any means, or indeed, even for…” He hesitated.

“Yes?” said Laura. “Or even for me?”

He smiled. “You are very sharp. Yes, that is what I was going to say.”

“So you would prefer that I did not make a friend of Mrs. Allenby?”

He looked at her. “I would.”

She returned his gaze directly. “She told us that you and her husband are good friends.”

“Did she?” he answered a bit ruefully. “I suppose there is some truth in that. We were great friends at one time, but we have, ah, drifted apart recently. I still see Jack Allenby often, but I would not say we are friends any longer.”

Laura was silent. She had more questions, for she felt there was more to this situation, but she did not feel able to ask them. She could not rid herself of the notion that it was none of her business. This man might be her husband, but she sensed that he would not permit her to interfere in his life because of it. Too much distance lay between them. In any case she did not wish to do so.

“I did not much like Mrs. Allenby,” she said finally, “so it seems very unlikely that any friendship would have developed. But I shall make no effort to see her again.”

“Thank you,” said Eliot. “I am honored that you take my word in this way.”

She looked up at him. “Why should I not? You give me good advice, I hope?”

“I hope I always shall. I try to do so at any rate.”

There was a pause, then Eliot said, “Would you care to go out tomorrow night? Perhaps to Vauxhall Gardens? You have not seen them yet.”

Laura smiled. “Making sure that I keep my promise, sir?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all. Rather, I’m making sure that Clarissa is amused and does not tease you to death about that card party, and also taking an opportunity to spend an evening with my wife. We should get to know each other better, and I am beginning to think that will be an exceedingly pleasant duty.”

Laura flushed a little; his use of the word
duty
turned what might have been a compliment into something else. “I am sure Clarissa would love it,” was her only reply.

He raised his eyebrows. “And you?”

“I too, of course.”

“Good; then it is settled. I fear I am promised to some friends tonight, and I must leave you. How will you spend the evening?”

“Oh I shall be quite all right. There is no need to worry over me.”

“On the contrary,” he replied. “You have a book. What is it?” She held up the volume of Scott she had been looking at. “Ah, that should amuse you, if nothing better offers. Do you like Scott?”

“Tolerably well, except when he begins to sermonize.”

He laughed. “My feeling exactly. Shall I find you another book? I daresay Dunham can pick out the volumes still in boxes.”

“Oh no, this is perfectly all right. I have sewing to do and a thousand other things.”

“Ah.” He bowed. “I shall take my leave of you then. Good night.”

“Good night.”

When he was gone, Laura sat quietly for a while, thinking over their conversation. The more she saw of this man with whom she had consented to spend her life, the greater respect she had for him. Clearly he was intelligent, clever, and scrupulously just. An ideal character might exhibit more warmth, she thought, wondering precisely what qualities one ought to prefer in a husband, but she found she could not fault him. She did not feel competent to judge.

After a time Clarissa came in once more. “Are you sitting here alone?” she asked, surprised. “Whatever for? I came back to apologize, Laura. I was horridly childish and petulant just now. I am sorry.”

Laura smiled. “It was nothing. And you had no need to worry in any case. Eliot has asked us to accompany him to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow evening. So, you see, we will go out.”

Clarissa clapped her hands. “Vauxhall! How wonderful! I do not deserve such a treat after my tantrum.”

Laura laughed. “Well if that is really the way you feel, you may stay home and punish yourself.”

“Lawks, no,” answered her sister, her eyes sparkling wickedly. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Struggling to control her twitching lips, Laura said, “What did you say, Clarissa?”

“I would not miss it for anything?” the younger girl repeated innocently.

“Not that. You know very well what I mean.”

Her sister burst out laughing. “Yes. You mean
lawks
. Isn’t it a fine word? Nancy uses it whenever anything out of the ordinary occurs.”

Her sister joined her laughter. “What can it mean?”

“I haven’t the least notion. What shall we wear to Vauxhall? How I wish my new gowns had arrived; perhaps they will come in time.” And the ladies became immersed in a discussion of their various toilettes.