Jane Ashford (6 page)

This was clearly a compliment, but Laura found it unsatisfying. “Thank you,” she answered tonelessly. She watched Clarissa and Lord Anthony ahead of them. They were talking some nonsense about Mrs. Rundgate’s ball, and the gentleman evidently wished to secure her sister’s hand for the first dance. Laura felt a pang of envy as she looked on. Clarissa looked so carefree as she tossed her head coquettishly at the slender, dark young man’s importunities.

“Tony and your sister seem to be enjoying themselves,” said Eliot, following her gaze. “I thought they would.” He smiled down at her. “He is extremely eligible.”

“Oh I hope Clarissa won’t think of marrying for a while,” answered Laura. “Indeed I doubt she will.”

Eliot merely nodded. The couple ahead had paused, and Laura and Eliot caught up with them as Tony was pointing out the beauties of one of the pavilions. He and Eliot exchanged some banter about his sudden unexpected interest in architecture, while Clarissa giggled and Laura smiled.

During the evening, Clarissa and Tony flirted pleasantly with each other and Laura exchanged commonplaces with her husband. They met several of Eliot’s acquaintances, and he introduced her with some pride. But Laura found the outing less enjoyable than she had expected, and after two hours she was very ready to go home. She said nothing in the face of Clarissa’s obvious happiness and contrived to remain cheerful and smiling throughout the fireworks display and the dancing.

But later that night, when she entered her bedchamber, she rubbed the back of her neck wearily. The time had seemed long to her, and the event not precisely boring, but unsatisfying. She felt as if something indefinable were missing.

She heard a noise from Eliot’s bedroom and stood very still. It was not repeated. She thought again of their evening, of the way Clarissa had laughed and flirted, while she talked so calmly with Eliot. Was she to have only this? She knew nothing of what a marriage should be, having spent her girlhood with two spinsters, but she felt somehow that it should be more than this. She stood for a moment longer, then shrugged and began to undress.

At that moment Mary burst into the room to help her and filled it with excited chatter. It appeared that the laundry had torn Laura’s blue cambric. Laura was able to put aside her worry in amusement as the girl went on and on about the vices of laundresses and what she had told the woman or not told her. Mary was not a first-rate lady’s maid, but she was a hilarious storyteller. Thus Laura managed to fall asleep immediately, and she did not wake until Mary pulled back the bed curtains the next morning and let the sun fall in across her face.

The next day was the one set for Clarissa’s drive to Richmond Park with Lord Timothy Farnsworth. When Laura went downstairs, she found Clarissa before her in the breakfast room, looking very dashing in primrose-sprigged muslin, and in high spirits. She was full of the previous night’s events and prattled on about Vauxhall, the dinner and dancing, Eliot’s kindness in taking them, and his friend’s manifold charms. After a while she became aware that Laura was hardly attending.

“What is the matter?” she asked her older sister. “Did you not sleep well?”

“Oh no, I slept very well.”

“I too, though it is a tribute to my robust constitution. My bed was a shambles.”

“What do you mean?” asked Laura.

Clarissa giggled. “Nancy nearly incinerated my sheets. They are all brown and crumbling with scorch marks.”

“How?”

“With the warming pan.” Clarissa giggled again. “She was trying so hard to make me comfortable, but she heated it too hot and left it between the sheets far too long. For a moment I thought she had set the house afire. I swear there was smoke.”

Laura shook her head. “I shall have to speak to her. These silly maids will bring down the house on our heads one day.”

“Oh do not scold her, please. I would not have told you if I thought you would take her to task. It was an accident, and Nancy is terrified of what Mr. Dunham will say when he hears of it.”

“But Clarissa, we cannot have the maids burning up the sheets.”

Her sister laughed outright. “She will not do so again, I promise you. I have never seen anyone so upset. She has learned her lesson.” Her laughter nearly overcame her. “I pointed and said, ‘Nancy that looks like smoke,’ and she whirled about and screamed, ‘Lawks, it’s the warming pan. I clean forgot.’ And she went running over and dragged it out. You cannot imagine how funny it was.”

A smile escaped Laura. “I am beginning to.”

“And then she began to apologize. I expected never to hear the end of it. She so wanted to get me some fresh sheets, but she was afraid to go to the linen room lest Mr. Dunham notice and question her. It was the most diverting episode; nothing like it ever happened at home.”

Laura’s smile became rueful. “No, because Eversly is a well-run household. Until now, I never appreciated Aunt Celia as she deserved.” She looked at her sister, now engrossed in her breakfast. “What time do you go?”

Clarissa nearly choked. “Ten,” she replied when she caught her breath. “I must hurry.”

“Yes, I know how you must be looking forward to this outing,” agreed her sister equably.

“Oh I am,” laughed Clarissa. “It is my first with a gentleman, after all.”

“Indeed. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

Clarissa drank the last of her tea and rose. “It doesn’t matter if I don’t, for I shall have had the satisfaction of knowing that I was at least seen driving to Richmond. That must lead to something.”

“You are incorrigible,” laughed Laura.

Her sister dropped a quick kiss on her cheek as she left the room. “Of course I am,” she said over her shoulder, and she began to take the stairs two at a time.

Laura laughed again, shook her head, and poured out another cup of tea.

Clarissa accordingly went out at ten. Laura sat down to write a long-overdue letter to their aunts, then went down to speak to the cook about dinner. There were no callers, to her relief, and the rest of the morning passed quietly. She did some sewing and looked through two of the cartons of books in the library, finding a novel she had been longing to read. She even put a few volumes on the shelves, though not many, for she feared Mr. Dunham would come in and find her at it. All in all she enjoyed her day immensely, and she began to think that eventually she would make a competent housewife.

***

Clarissa came sweeping in at teatime, bringing a breath of crisp spring air into the drawing room, and collapsed on the sofa near Laura, pulling off her hat and flinging it away.

“Did you have a good time?” Laura asked.

“Ripping,” said Clarissa. “Lord Farnsworth’s horses are really splendid, and he let me take the ribbons for a while. We were quite wrong about him, Laura. He has a bang-up team.”

“If only I had realized,” murmured Laura.

Her sister grinned. “Well I know you aren’t as fond of horses as I am, but these were splendid.”

“And did you like Richmond Park?”

“Oh, well I didn’t actually see it.” Clarissa looked sheepish. “When Lord Farnsworth saw how I felt, he took me to Tattersall’s instead. We went for a short drive after.”

“Tattersall’s? Where they auction horses? Oh no.”

“It isn’t improper, and I adored it. Actually I believe I’ve bought a horse myself.” Clarissa avoided her sister’s eye.

But Laura was trying to keep her lips from twitching. “Not a gray?” she managed to ask.

“A gray? No, she’s a little brown mare, and…” Suddenly Clarissa’s eyes lit. “You mean like the plow horse? At Eversly?”

Laura nodded, and they both dissolved in laughter.

When Mr. Dunham brought in the tea tray, he ignored their merriment stolidly, putting the tea things on a low table in front of the sofa and taking himself off as soon as possible. As he went, Eliot spoke from the doorway. “That was quite a sight.
L’allegro
and
il
penseroso
.”

Laura turned with a start. “Oh. I didn’t hear you come in. Clarissa has been telling me about her drive with Lord Timothy Farnsworth.”

Eliot raised one eyebrow. “And you can laugh about it? Your minds must be stronger than I imagined. I should have fallen into a decline and most likely slit my throat after such an ordeal.”

Clarissa laughed again. “Oh no, I had the most delightful time. He let me drive his team.”

“Then he is also braver than I imagined,” said Eliot. “Was it your driving that threw you into such transports?”

“No,” giggled Clarissa. “Laura reminded me of the time I purchased the gray plow horse from a farmer near Eversly and brought him home. I so wanted a mount, you see, and our aunts did not like us to ride.”

“I do see, and my sympathy for your aunts is wholehearted.”

“Well they didn’t let me keep him,” replied Clarissa, “but they bought me a pony the very next year.”

“Exceedingly sensible of them. Why do I suddenly find your Aunt Eleanor’s vapors more understandable?”

Laura had been making the tea and pouring it out, and now she choked.

Eliot turned to her. “Yes?” he said blandly.

Her eyes twinkling, Laura shook her head.

They sipped their tea in silence for a moment, Clarissa looking thoughtful. “I can’t ride tomorrow,” she said to herself. “I promised to go walking with Anne Rundgate.” She drank the last of her tea and rose. “I am going upstairs. I shall see you at dinner.” She picked up the bonnet she had flung on the table by the door and disappeared.

A silence fell as Laura and Eliot went on with their tea.

“I am concerned about you,” he said after a few minutes.

Laura was surprised. “About me?”

“Yes. I fear you are not liking town life as much as you expected to. You did not care for Vauxhall, did you?”

“But of course I did. I thought it lovely. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Strange… I got the distinct impression that you were impatient and perhaps bored last night. Do you tell me that you did not wish to come home long before we did?”

Laura started to tell him that she had wished no such thing; then she hesitated and looked up. His gray eyes were very keen, but she saw nothing but kindness in them. She sighed a little. “I was rather tired.”

“Were you?” He leaned forward and took her hand. “You must tell me these things.” The concern in his voice surprised her. “I want you to be happy, Laura. It is my duty to see that you are.”

At the word
duty
Laura stiffened and pulled her hand away. “You are very kind, Eliot. I am quite all right.”

He moved a little toward her, and she pulled back.

“I hope so,” he said. “You are just the sort of wife I would have chosen, Laura, from among all others. Indeed I did choose, of course. I have no reservations whatsoever.”

Laura swallowed. His statement made her feel acutely embarrassed. Though she knew he meant it well, it reminded her of the circumstances of their marriage and the fact that he had been partly forced into it, and she hardly knew where to look.

“I, I am glad,” she stammered finally.

“I am proud of you, Laura. You have beauty, birth, breeding, all the things one desires in a wife. I think we shall deal together splendidly. We made a wise decision.”

Some of Laura’s confusion dissolved at these rather cold words. He made the marriage sound like a business transaction. It was obvious that, for him, feeling had no place in their marriage. She bowed her head. “I am sure you are right,” she replied.

He smiled. “Good. I wish to be as good a husband as you are a wife.”

She bowed her head again, but said nothing.

He waited a moment, then rose, putting down his cup. “I must take my leave now. I shall dine at my club this evening, so you needn’t wait for me. Good night.”

“Good night,” answered Laura. Eliot went out, and she was left sitting alone in the drawing room, her teacup halfway to her lips.

In the next few weeks Clarissa furthered her acquaintance with Anne Rundgate, and she spent afternoons and mornings with her and her friends. Though Laura was pleased to see Clarissa so happy at becoming part of an established set, she herself had made no real friends. She was a bit older and more serious than the girls just out… but she was also rather younger, at least in experience, than the young matrons she met. Thus Laura felt a little out of place and spent a good deal of time alone.

Eliot occasionally escorted the sisters to evening parties or to the theatre, but many dinners were served only to Laura and Clarissa while he was engaged with some of his cronies at The Daffy Club or Watier’s. Clarissa scarcely noticed, but Laura felt confusion growing in her mind. Was this really the life she wanted, she began to wonder. Though she was not at all certain that she wished to spend more time with her husband—really, she knew too little about him to decide—neither was she convinced that she did not wish to become acquainted with him. Perhaps what annoyed her most, she concluded, was the way the decision was taken out of her hands.

The day set for Mrs. Rundgate’s ball was upon them almost before they realized it. Laura’s rose pink gown had arrived from Madame Antoinette. It truly was a stunning creation, all of silk and trimmed with exquisite French braid. Clarissa had also received her dress of white brocade shot through with silver threads, and she was vastly pleased with it.

Eliot elected to accompany them, and the three assembled in the drawing room at nine that evening, waiting for the carriage to be brought round. Eliot complimented the ladies on their appearance and, with a graceful bow, presented them with bouquets for the ball. Laura’s was pink roses and Clarissa’s white, both in intricate silver-filigree holders.

Clarissa fell into raptures and thanked him fervently. “My first bouquet,” she exclaimed. “Oh let us go. I cannot wait any longer. What a long day this has been!”

***

When their carriage reached Mrs. Rundgate’s house, it had to join a line of vehicles waiting to discharge their passengers at the door. The scene was brilliant, with linkboys running here and there waving their torches, chairmen jostling with passersby who had paused to stare at the spectacle, and the brightly lit windows of the house throwing leaping shadows across the pavement as the carriages passed them. Laura’s spirits began to rise; the excitement was contagious.

Greeting their guests on the landing, Anne Rundgate looked very fragile and lovely in pale blue, and her mother was substantial in amber satin. The latter was effusively glad to see them. “Good evening, my dears,” she said to the girls. “So glad to see you here. And Eliot… I haven’t seen you this age. How is your mother? What a picture the three of you make, to be sure.”

Eliot smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgment of the compliment as Laura returned her salutation and Clarissa said to Anne, “Your gown is beautiful. It turned out just as you wished.” After that they had to move on to make way for other arrivals on the steps behind them.

In the ballroom Lord Anthony Trilling appeared to remind Clarissa that he had set his heart on the first dance. Laughing, she agreed, and he bore her off toward a group of young people in the corner.

Laura looked about the room. It was impressive indeed. Though not more than half the guests could have arrived as yet, the crowd was exceedingly brilliant. The bright hues of the ladies’ gowns and the darker shades of their escorts’ evening clothes combined in a tapestry effect and, added to the profusion of flowers, it was nearly overpowering.

Eliot was smiling down at Laura. “Quite a sight, is it not?” he said.

She nodded. “It looks almost like a play. It is hard to believe that such a scene can be real.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure it is precisely. There is nothing more artificial than a ball.”

Anne Rundgate came into the ballroom then, on the arm of a young gentleman Laura did not recognize. The band prepared to strike up, and Anne took her place at the head of the set.

Laura saw Clarissa join the dancers. She was laughing at something Lord Anthony was saying, and both seemed quite absorbed. Eliot said, “Our hostess has gotten young Redmon to lead off with her silly daughter. Quite a coup. I hope no one tells Clarissa he is son to a duke. She will go off with him from under little Anne’s nose before we can blink.” He smiled to show that he was teasing her.

Laura studied the young man. “I have not heard of the Duke of Redmon.”

“No, Geoffrey is the Marquess Redmon. Courtesy title. He is old Millshire’s oldest son. Shall we join the set?”

Laura looked up at him. He was smiling, and he looked supremely confident and at ease. She yielded to an impulse. “But sir, you must know that it is not at all the thing for husbands to dance with their wives. How can you ask me to be so unfashionable?”

His eyes twinkled. “It is perfectly acceptable when they are newly wed,” he replied, more than a match for her.

Laura blushed. He held out a hand, and she silently took it and allowed him to lead her into the last set forming near them. To herself she thought that she should know better than to try to rally Eliot. He was up to anything.

They went through the two dances with little conversation. This was Laura’s first public trial of her dancing skills, and she was taken up with minding her steps. After a time, feeling that her performance was creditable, she looked about her again. The look of a tapestry was even more marked now as all the figures moved and swayed in careful patterns. The beauty of it pleased her. Clarissa caught her eye from across the room and grinned delightedly, and Laura smiled.

When the set ended, they returned to the chairs along the side wall. Immediately Lady Quale came up to them, smiling at Laura in a predatory way. “Come, my dear,” she said sweetly. “I want to introduce you to my friend Lady Jersey. She will give you vouchers for Almack’s.” And she bore Laura away with her before she could think of any objection.

Lady Jersey was a pleasant woman, who eyed Laura with some curiosity and said, “So you are the young girl from the country who has walked off with one of our greatest matrimonial prizes?” But she promised her vouchers in an easygoing way, and her malice, if that was what it was, seemed wholly good-natured.

After scarcely two minutes Lady Quale whisked her off again, to meet another of her friends, she said. But she merely steered Laura to a vacant sofa along the wall and sat her down.

“There, that is done,” she told her. “Now we can have a comfortable coze. How are you, my dear? I have not seen you since Emily Yarbourgh’s rout last week.” Laura signified that she was well, and Lady Quale nodded. “Your sister seems to be taking well, just as we told you she would. A very vivacious girl.”

Laura made no reply, and there was a short pause, a very odd thing in a conversation with Lady Quale. And when that lady spoke again, there was an uncharacteristic hesitation in her voice. “I particularly wished to speak to you,” she went on. “I left my card yesterday, when you were out, you know.”

“Oh yes, I am sorry,” answered Laura guiltily, for she had not been out at all. She simply had no taste for Lady Quale’s acid gossip.

“Well it couldn’t be helped, but it was vexing in this case, because I did wish to talk to you.” She hesitated, and Laura wondered what she could be leading up to; it was quite unlike her ladyship to beat about the bush. “I don’t know quite how to begin,” continued Lady Quale, further increasing Laura’s curiosity. “It is a delicate matter. I think you know, my dear, that I do not hold with gossip.” Laura looked down; this was one of Lady Quale’s dearest illusions. “But as a friend of your aunts, I stand in the position of parent to you, and since you have no mother to tell you these things, I felt it my duty to bring it up.”

“To bring up what, ma’am?” asked Laura, more and more mystified.

“Well to be blunt, I have been told that that brazen creature Vera Allenby actually called on you.”

“Yes. She called after your first visit, on the same day.” Laura stirred uneasily in her chair.

“Tch, tch.” Lady Quale appeared scandalized. “I can hardly believe it, even of her. She will go too far one day.” She looked at Laura, who avoided her eyes. “Well not to wrap it in clean linen, my dear, Mrs. Allenby’s name has been linked with your husband’s for some time. It is well known that they, ah, that they have some arrangement. It pains me, but I felt you ought to be told. Vera Allenby is not at all a proper person for you to know.”

“Ah,” replied Laura. She could think of nothing else to say. A cold feeling began in her stomach and gradually spread outward.

Lady Quale looked at her sympathetically. “This is something of a shock to you, I have no doubt, but you must not let it overset you. Such things are frightfully common these days. It is scandalous.” She pronounced this opinion with relish. “You cannot conceive how heedless some people are, my dear. And the Allenbys are among the worst.”

Laura could not resist. “But her husband? Does he, that is…”

“Oh he is every bit as bad as she. Worse! There is no greater libertine in London. It seems to amuse them.”

“And they know about each other’s…”

“That is the most scandalous part of it. They have no discretion whatsoever. Why, only think of Vera Allenby’s calling on
you.
” She lowered her voice. “I have been told by one who should know that it is a game between them. They tell each other everything, but
everything
, my dear.”

Laura drew back, disgusted with her companion and with herself for listening to her. “Well I am sure such rumors are much exaggerated,” she replied. “If you will excuse me now, ma’am, I must see what Clarissa is doing.” She started to rise.

Lady Quale reached out and grasped Laura’s arm tightly; her hand felt like a claw. “You will remember what I have said? You mustn’t see the Allenbys; very bad
ton
.”

Laura moved her head in what might be considered a nod and pulled her arm away. “Pardon me.”

She started across the ballroom to where Clarissa was standing. Her head felt light, and she clung to the image of her sister as to a lifeline. But as she walked, she happened to catch sight of Eliot on the other side of the ballroom. With a sinking heart she saw that he was talking to Mrs. Allenby at this very moment. Laura felt totally alone suddenly and terribly exposed traversing the empty center of the room. Everyone here, she thought, knows how things stand with me. It is unbearable.

Just then, Vera Allenby happened to look up and see her. She smiled at Laura with a supercilious mockery that made the girl clench her fists in rage.

But if Laura could have heard what Eliot was saying at that moment, she might have felt differently. “You are becoming quite tiresome, Vera,” he told the fuming redhead. “Do leave off and be sensible.”

“I don’t know what you mean, darling,” replied Mrs. Allenby. “I merely asked why I had not seen you this age.” Her voice was languid, but there was a hint of steel in it.

Eliot seemed unaffected. “You can’t play off your tricks with me, so you may as well stop trying. You know exactly how things stand between us. I told you the day after you called on my wife.”

“Your
wife
?” echoed Vera with a sneer. “You cannot tell me that wide-eyed chit is anything to you, Eliot. I know you too well.”

“I tell you nothing, and I do not care what you believe.” Eliot’s eyes hardened. “I made it clear, I think, that all is over between us, Vera. It was a pleasant affair; we both enjoyed it, and it hurt no one. But now things have changed.”

The smile which bared Mrs. Allenby’s teeth for a moment was not pretty. It made her piquantly lovely face feral. “No one casts me off,” she almost hissed. “It is I who make the rules in this game.”

Eliot looked disgusted. “You should have gone on the stage, Vera. If you are going to enact a Cheltenham tragedy, I beg you will excuse me. It is not as if there had been anything but simple liking between us.”

His companion’s temper overcame her usual skill in manipulating the male sex. “You will be sorry if you keep on this course, Eliot, more sorry than you can imagine.”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “Don’t be foolish, my dear. You cannot threaten me.” And he turned on his heel and walked away from her.

Vera Allenby stood still for a moment, trembling with rage; her green eyes burned. Then, with an effort, she regained control and fixed a smile on her face again. She turned to look about the ballroom, and her eyes fell on Laura, now chatting with their hostess. A glitter came into them. She looked further, found what she sought, and started across the room toward her husband.

Laura was listening blankly to Mrs. Rundgate’s amusing description of the trials a ball entailed. “If it’s not the maids breaking the best glasses, it’s a lost tablecloth or the cook giving notice,” she was saying. “And last night I was certain Anne had caught a chill.”

At that point Mr. Rundgate joined them. He was a shy, silent man whom Laura had not met before tonight. He murmured something to his wife that caused her to throw up her hands with an annoyed exclamation. “Excuse us, my dear,” she said to Laura. “There is some trouble about the ices. We must get in touch with someone from Gunter’s. They
promised
me that all would go smoothly.” The couple hurried away, Mrs. Rundgate’s laments carrying behind them for some distance.

Laura took a breath and looked about her. Clarissa was dancing, of course. Eliot had drifted toward the card room with some of his friends, and it looked as if they were about to get up a game. She saw Lady Quale in the corner, gossiping with Mrs. Dillingham, and she averted her eyes quickly. She certainly did not wish to join them. In fact, she thought as she scanned the rest of the ballroom, there was no one in the room that she really wished to speak to.

Laura turned and moved toward the long windows at the side of the room. They were somewhat recessed, and though the curtains were drawn, there was a niche between the room and the window. She retreated to one of these and parted the draperies to look out. The view was uninspiring—a small paved yard and the side of the stables.