Lord Satan (11 page)

He stood and took a couple of turns about the room. “I
always hoped you and Tipton would make a match of it. When I saw that mewling
creature he married, I knew she wouldn’t hold him.”

“We never felt anything beyond friendship for each other.
Your father didn’t share your attitude about my suitability, as I recall.”

“True. Remember how our fathers almost came to blows over
the claim of your father’s that the Coltons were mere upstarts, and Beesons had
been holding their land since before the Norman invasion?” Chuckling, he sat
again and reached for the cup.

“Yes, my father was fanatical on the subject. And proud
that the Beesons had never knuckled under to the monarchy to collect a title.”

“And mine was da-devilishly proud of his title. To tell the
truth, I enjoyed seeing him receiving the worst of their old argument.” Neil
stood. “I must go. I’ve claimed enough of your time.” He bowed over her
hand. “Will you do as I requested.”

Her lips quirked in a smile. “Yes, I’ll talk to Mrs.
Bishop. I can’t guarantee results.”

*

The invitation to the party came while Libbetty played in
the side garden with the children. The servant in the bronze and green
Cauldreigh livery stepped up to the door. She stared after him, forgetting the
game, until Henry blundered into her.

“I’ve got you!” he called exultantly, pulling off the
blindfold. As Libbetty watched the messenger and did not respond immediately,
Henry accused, “You didn’t even try not to let me catch you. That isn’t fair!”

“I did try,” Libbetty protested. “You are just too clever
for me.” She allowed him to fix the blindfold over her eyes. As she joined in
the game again, a part of her hoped, against all logic, that she could go to
the party. She pictured talking again with Lord Neil, her feverish sensations
whenever he was near. Caused, no doubt, by her conviction of his wickedness.

Mrs. Hayes arrived for an afternoon call as Libbetty and
Floss ushered the younger children into the house. Libbetty helped settle them
in the nursery and went down to the drawing room, hoping her mother’s cheerful
friend might lift her own spirits.

She did not plan to eavesdrop, but when she heard Mrs. Hayes
say, “Nonsense, Ethel. Elizabeth has companioned Edwina Hogwood of late, and
she is out,” Libbetty could not help stopping outside the door to learn what
was being said about her.

“Yes, but she is younger than Edwina. And I am not at all
convinced that among the Coltons she will meet the type of young man I would
wish her to marry.”

“It won’t be just Coltons at the party, but other young
people too. Ethel, you know such sociability will not happen again around
Peasebotham for years. By then Elizabeth will have made a mésalliance. She
won’t wither into spinsterhood.”

“I had planned to take her to attend the assemblies at
Crossfield next winter.”

“Where the company is almost as thin as in Peasebotham.”

“I know you have the right of it. But I cannot chaperone
her in my condition—and in any case, it is Mr. Bishop whom you must convince.”

“I shall chaperone Elizabeth. I should enjoy it—Amelia
won’t be old enough to attend adult parties for several years. However, I
shall not attempt to win over Mr. Bishop. You may do that.”

Libbetty crept back to the stairway and almost danced up the
stairs. At the top, she gripped the newel post. Her elation over having a
champion warred with doubts that her mother could persuade Mr. Bishop. But
Mrs. Hayes had believed it possible. Oh, grant that it might happen, she
breathed.

Of its own volition her mind provided her with an image of
herself dancing with Lord Neil. She shivered at the thought of standing next
to him, their eyes meeting and hands touching.

Most likely, Mama would not persuade Papa to alter his
edict, and besides, she must never forget the man’s probable guilt. In any
case, it was Lord Cauldreigh with whom she should imagine herself, both for her
pledge to Edwina and to promote her sisters’ interests.

The next morning, Mrs. Bishop summoned Libbetty to her
bedchamber. Her mother sat at her dressing table, twisting her sandy brown
hair into a smooth knot at the back of her head. “You and Tom have received an
invitation to a party at The Castle this Thursday. Mrs. Hayes and Dr. Hayes
will also attend, and will chaperone you.”

“Oh, Mama.” Libbetty threw her arms around her mother.
“How did you persuade Papa to let me go?”

“He was not difficult to persuade,” Mrs. Bishop said. “He
does remember his own youth.” Not giving Libbetty time to think about this
revolutionary statement, she went on, “We must do something about your
wardrobe. Your clothes are not adequate for this occasion and those that will
undoubtedly follow.”

“You mean I may go to other social events besides?”

“Yes, your father has lifted your restrictions.” Her mother
placed her hand under Libbetty’s chin and stared into her eyes. “Do not give
him any cause to regret his decision. He doubts you are sufficiently mature
for adult company.”

“Oh, yes, Mama, I will remember.” In her joy and gratitude,
Libbetty could not conceive of behaving in any but decorous ways in honor of
this miracle.

“I have a small sum of money set aside for my daughters,
which will purchase some of what you will need, and after breakfast you and I
will venture into the attic for old clothes of mine to make over for you.”
This excess of generosity completed Libbetty’s happiness.

Previously, she had only explored the attics in a cursory way,
but now found that her mother’s trunk was a treasure trove. Amazed, Libbetty
pulled out garment after garment, holding them to the sunlight filtering
through the dusty gable window. “Mama, I never knew you had so many beautiful
clothes.” She crushed an ivory froth of jaconet to herself.

“That will do for Lord Cauldreigh’s rout.” Mama took the
frock, shook it out, and examined it. The gown had a low neckline, full skirt,
and long, narrow sleeves ending in a lace ruffle. “A buffon went with the gown.”
She dug into the trunk and found a diaphanous cloth. “See, it draped about the
neckline like this. There is extra material in the skirt to cut a new bodice.”

Libbetty had trouble picturing the gown recut to a more
stylish mode. The material was pretty, however, and she agreed.

Mrs. Bishop held the gown up in front of Libbetty. “The
lace on the sleeves would make a nice trim for the neckline.” She held a strip
of the lace up against the frock. “But it needs some ribbon. I know just the
shade; I wonder if they will have it at Sidneys’? We must go this afternoon
and see what we can find. We can purchase your other needs at the same time.”

Libbetty was curious about the extent of her mother’s
twenty-year-old wardrobe. Fingering a dull gold satin ball gown, she said,
“Mama, where did all these clothes come from?”

Mrs. Bishop held the gold gown before Libbetty. “No, that
color isn’t for you,” she decided. “We will save that one for Catherine or
Isobel.” Libbetty had nearly concluded her mother would not answer when she
said, “Did you imagine I came from a poor family? My father was a baronet with
a comfortable competence.”

“What happened? You never mention your family.”

“This would make a lovely riding habit.” She held up a
sapphire merino skirt and jacket. “No, I do not mention them. We have been
estranged since I married your father. They disagreed with my choice of
husband. For a long time my father withheld his consent to the match, but I
refused to give up Mr. Bishop, and he at last agreed. It caused an unmendable
breach, much to my regret.” Her eyes misted over for a moment, but she said,
with a shake of her head, “Well, what do you think?”

Libbetty caressed the soft merino and enthusiastically
endorsed it. “Are you sorry you made such a marriage, Mama?”

Her mouth curved. “No, never. Your father and I love each
other, and I have a happy, useful life, assisting him in his work. Your father
is a noble man, helping so many. It is my family’s loss, I think. It would
have been different, of course, if I had wanted to marry someone lacking in
principles. I only regret I cannot do more for you children.” She seemed
momentarily sadder, but brightened. “Of course, I have a small dowry. Your
father and I decided we would put it aside for our daughters. Some of that
money will buy your new clothes.”

By the time they reached the bottom of the trunk, they had
set aside a light blue sarcenet with silver tissue overskirt, a lilac-and-white
striped pekin silk, and an apricot muslin, as well as feathers and other
trimmings from her mother’s hats, and ribbons and lace with which to refurbish
Libbetty’s older gowns.

“With Mrs. Slidell to sew one or two more gowns and some new
undergarments, that should be enough to see you creditably garbed through
whatever the summer has to offer,” Mrs. Bishop said.

*

“Which do you like, Elizabeth?”

Nearly every spool of ribbon Sidneys’ mercer shop offered
lay on the counter. This did not amount to a grand array, given the
limitations of the small shop. Mrs. Bishop had requested a shade darker than
the gown’s ivory. Mrs. Sidney had offered a notably muddy brown, which
Libbetty knew had reposed unsold on the shelf for several years; a bolt more
nearly orange than ecru, which her mother dismissed as unsuitable; and an ugly
grayish sand color. Disappointed in these options, Mrs. Bishop had asked to
see some other colors. She had brought snippets from the gown and the lace to
assist in making their choice.

Libbetty tentatively fingered ribbons of yellow, mint green,
and coral, looked regretfully at a deep maroon deemed unsuitable for a young
lady, and said, “I believe I like the coral best.”

That momentous issue decided, Libbetty and Mrs. Bishop gave
their attention to stockings, gloves and other accessories. Libbetty approved
a pair of elbow-length beige gloves in soft kid unearthed by Mrs. Sidney from
some dusty corner. Her attention wandered, however, when Mrs. Bishop began
attending to the more mundane matters of thread and buttons.

If any logic existed in the arrangement of the goods, it
escaped Libbetty. The dim shop, illuminated only by rays of sunlight streaming
in the narrow front window, was jammed with an assortment of merchandise:
shoes, string, cheese, bread, bonnets, all jumbled haphazardly.

The Sidneys seemed to know just where to find every object
requested by their customers. Miss Sidney, their plain spinster daughter,
helped in the shop when the village dame school at which she taught had no
classes.

The variety of scents and sights inspired Libbetty to an
awareness of a larger world. She had always enjoyed the shop, although she
seldom had money to spend. Since the Coltons had arrived at The Castle, she
became aware of Sidneys’ shortcomings as well as the rusticity of the village.
What would the worldly Lord Neil make of the shop, she wondered.

“I believe that is all for today,” Mrs. Bishop said to the
mercer’s wife. She added to Libbetty, “Your white evening slippers will match
the ivory frock sufficiently well. You will need some boots, and we must yet
see what Mrs. Slidell can make up for you. Perhaps one or two more gowns will
suffice.” She had turned back to Mrs. Sidney to ask her to wrap their
purchases when the bell rang over the door, announcing another customer.

At first Libbetty surmised the well-dressed lady who rushed
into the shop was a guest at The Castle. She had a petite but curvaceous
figure, and hair of rich, deep brown. Her russet-colored riding habit seemed
to Libbetty of the greatest elegance, and her precipitate entrance into the
shop brought with her a musky scent of exotic perfume. She stopped short upon
seeing Libbetty and her mother, a smile of delight upon her face. “Why, hello,
Mrs. Bishop. What a piece of luck to meet you. And this must be your charming
daughter…?”

What happened next astounded Libbetty. Her mother
stiffened, and two bright spots burned on her cheeks as she turned to Mrs.
Sidney. “Please wrap our purchases and have them delivered.”

Their purchases made a bundle small enough for them to carry
the short distance home, but her mother was obviously in a hurry to quit the
shop. She seized Libbetty’s arm and propelled her toward the door.

However, the newcomer refused to be denied her conversation
with Mrs. Bishop. She stepped in her path. “I regret that I have not had the
opportunity to foster an acquaintanceship. I have attended church services at
Crossfield, although I have planned for some time on coming to see your little
church. I understand it has some architectural interest.” She had a soft
voice with a slightly foreign-sounding inflection.

“You are mistaken. It is a very ordinary church. Come,
Elizabeth, we must go home. We have much to do.”

Mrs. Bishop tugged at her daughter’s arm, almost dragging
her from the shop. Libbetty gave a last look at the unknown woman, noting she
was older than her first impression had suggested, and went out onto the
street, half running to keep up with the rapid pace set by her mother. They
had gone some distance down the street when Mrs. Sidney’s breathless “Mrs.
Bishop!” halted them.

The shopkeeper ran up, gasping, “I’m sorry I didn’t come
after you right away. I wouldn’t leave that woman alone in the shop! I had to
call Mr. Sidney to keep an eye on her—though goodness knows I must go back and
keep an eye on Mr. Sidney! I apologize to you for that woman’s behavior. I
have never been so mortified!” she wound up, staring at Mrs. Bishop anxiously.
The two women’s extraordinary behavior gave Libbetty a clue to the stranger’s
identity.

“You need not apologize, Mrs. Sidney. You cannot prevent
even such a person from entering your shop. I do not hold you responsible.”