Of Moths and Butterflies (20 page)

She prayed for such. If she had to endure twelve more months of near solitude, she would do it. But she prayed for some kind of salvation from the trials she knew she’d only begun to endure under her aunt’s roof. She had offered this prayer on her first Sunday in London. She had offered it last week. And she offered it now. She could not be wholly unworthy of happiness, could she? Or of the devotion of one trustworthy man, who would love her for who she was and not what she brought with her? Who might, just possibly, overlook the stain on her character that she seemed unable to escape, no matter how she tried.

These were the thoughts and questions that mingled with her fervently offered prayer this morning—until the impression of moving and shifting bodies roused her. She looked up to find that Julia had just joined them. And with her, Roger.

“How are you, Imogen?” Julia whispered.

“Well enough, aunt,” Imogen answered with a smile. She was aware how stiff it felt, and how insincere it must, consequently, appear.

Julia’s smile was sympathetic as she took her niece’s hand in her own. With his aunt’s permission, Roger took it briefly and squeezed it before relinquishing it again. Without a word, with a look only, he conveyed his message more forcefully than he might have done with any spoken gesture. That sense of comfort and companionship she had longed for a moment ago was provided now. Had her prayers been answered so soon?

The pleasure of his company was not to end with the conclusion of the service, it seemed, for Julia announced her wish to join them for dinner. Her intentions thus stated, and so publicly, Muriel had no choice but to do the Christian thing. She issued the invitation.

Imogen, upon returning home, made her way into the garden, where she sought a little quiet contemplation and some fresh air before Roger should join her. He was not long in doing so.

He hesitated only half a moment as he shut the door behind him. In silence he approached her, and did not hesitate or falter but took her in his arms and held her there, close to his heart, where she had ever and always belonged. Why had she left him? Here, safe and sound in the protecting embrace of one who really loved her, even she could offer no excuse. And she blessed him for not asking one of her.

At last he let her go and examined her closely. “Do you have any idea how much I have missed you?”

“Perhaps I do now. But I think I had to go to realise it.”

A breath of pained laughter was his answer to this, and he held her close again before drawing himself away. Aware that the family was watching from indoors, he suggested a walk through the small garden plot, making the most of what little time they might be allowed together.

“Tell me, will you, where you’ve been…what you’ve been doing?”

“Well,” she began at last, “I went to the country. A charming village in Kent, very quiet and quaint. And there I found something by which I might occupy my time and earn for myself a bit of independence.”

“You worked?”

“Yes.”

His question this time was cautious. “Doing what?”

“Goodness! All sorts of things.”

“Such as?”

But she’d had enough of the interview. It was her turn. “How have you been keeping yourself occupied, Roger? Tell me that.”

“I’ve been missing you. Trying to find you. Wondering where you’d gone and why. And if and when you’d return.”

“Is
that
all?”

“Very nearly.”

“I did miss you very much.”

*   *   *

“Just how long do you plan to keep our niece hidden away?”

Julia’s tone was demanding, and Muriel did not appreciate it. Who was Julia to force herself where she was not wanted?

“She’s been home for nearly three weeks now and no one at all has seen her.”

Muriel turned from the window, from which vantage point she had been watching with irritation as her niece and her sister’s nephew engaged in conversation decidedly too warm for her liking. As the curtain fell it blocked the beams of light which fell as shards upon the faded carpet and cast the room into a sort of half-darkness.

“Our name has been in the papers,” she replied. “Everyone knows to whom Drake left his money. They know Imogen ran away, and they know she’s returned. People are talking and I’ll not be made a laughing stock at the hands of a foolish girl.”

“But you needn’t punish her. Her life’s been difficult enough. She can overcome this.”

“She might…and she might not.”

“People will forget.”

“In time,” Muriel took a chair, and from it surveyed her sister. There was no need to guess what Julia’s objectives were. “I think it would be better for all of us if she were to keep her head down for a little while. There’s no need to go pushing her into company more likely to cause her further discomfort than to do anything in the way of helping her.”

“Her embarrassment will become your embarrassment if you do not take steps to overcome it.”

“What do you suggest, Julia?”

“She must be taken out. She must be seen.”

“It’s not done, what you’re suggesting. One cannot fly from friends and family, hire oneself out as a servant, and then just step back into Society as if nothing at all had ever happened.”

Julia, pacing impatiently, turned. “You’ll make her an outcast.”

“She’s done that for herself.”

Muriel was distraught. She’d come very close, or so she had believed, to finding an answer to these problems. Julia had given her the idea, though unintentionally. Imogen must marry.

She had no doubts whatever that the directions her brother had made for his estate had been made in confusion and in the madness of his last convoluted thoughts. To contest the will would take considerable time and expense. She had neither. And so, when Sir Edmund Barry had shown up with news of her missing niece, his suggestion seemed providential. Both might benefit by the uniting of their dependents. The nephew was willing. It would be a simple matter—no one need feel any guilt.

She had taken her measure of the man—titled, no doubt wealthy and connected... And greedy beyond reason. Such an arrangement might be convenient enough for him to manage. For her, it would be somewhat harder. Imogen was not likely to go along with any plans her aunt made for her. For so much trouble she deserved some extra compensation. And so Muriel had named her price. She wanted half of all liquid assets, nothing less. Sir Edmund had considered the terms. And he had spent long enough over them to allow Muriel the opportunity of building one or two castles with the wealth that was soon to be hers. Then, quite unexpectedly, he had declined. No. His nephew could do better. Considering her shady connections, the reputation she must drag behind her simply by sharing the name of Everard… No. And with that pronouncement, he closed the negotiations. Muriel was invited, veritably commanded, to claim her niece, and in all possible haste, but not to bring the matter up again.

She had gone, of course, had returned with the wayward and truant young woman. But now what to do? Another candidate must be found, that was certain. But how? And where? Of course Julia had her own ideas, but Muriel was having none of that. It was she who ought to benefit, not her sisters who had never had any right to entertain expectations of their own.

“For all the talk,” Julia continued, “no one really knows anything. The details of her life with our brother, or of her flight, are unavailable to them. To hide from Society now only gives weight to those suppositions, and that is all they are. She might hold her head up again. She’s young and attractive. If Drake did nothing else, at least he made sure she was educated. To keep her hidden away is suicide to her chances. She must be allowed to try. And the money, Muriel, think of that.”

At last it was out. The real battle could now begin.

“Yes, the money makes up for a great deal,” Muriel said. “But it makes her a target in other respects. For a few hundred thousand pounds any number of eligible young bachelors might be willing to look past a tattered reputation, but what kind of men are those likely to be?”

“There is Roger.”

“Roger!”

“Yes, Roger. He will set an example for others to follow. And so shall I.”

Muriel scoffed and looked away. “If I agree to this at all it will only be for knowing she is safe from your grasping on your nephew’s behalf!”

Julia stood up straighter, her face red. “Can I tell you what I think?” she said. “I think you want to keep her by your side for a reason. I don’t think you
want
her to marry. If she does, then there go your expectations once and for all.”

Muriel bristled, for Julia at once had it all wrong and completely right. Imogen must marry. That was a certainty. But Muriel knew the difficulties inherent in allowing her niece to go it on her own. Her sense of independence was too strong; she had proved that already. But there were enough avaricious gentlemen in the world to encourage her to believe that the risk might ultimately be worth it—if the proper care were taken.

“I simply do not want to see her hurt any more than she has been,” was the answer she gave at last.

“But she deserves a chance to try for herself.”

“To try Roger, you mean? That would be very convenient for you wouldn’t it?”

“To try to make herself happy by whatever means she can,” Julia insisted.

Muriel thought for a long while before offering any reply. “If I agree to this, can you promise to keep Roger at bay?”

“You give me more credit than is due if you think I have that much control over him. He’s a man in love, Muriel. What can I do?”

“Restrict him at least. She can do far better than Roger, I think. And if he is to be monopolising her, then there is no point in taking her out at all.”

“There is certainly some point. If he is not ashamed of her company…”

“No. I understand you. Still… She must be allowed to consider alternatives.”

Julia turned to her sister with a wary look. “I will try, Muriel, to restrict him at first,” she said at last. “I have no delusions that it can last. He will endeavour to be where she is.”

“At first, then. Until she has made her presence known and felt.”

Julia sighed. “Very well. I will try. But I can promise no more than that.”

“And she should go out in mourning.”

“Mourning? But three months is all that’s required of a niece for her uncle, and we’re nearly beyond that now.”

“It’s my feeling she should mourn him as a father. That was, after all, what he was to her.”

“But mourning will restrict her. No balls. No dancing.”

“Yes. Exactly. And so her entrance into Society will be serious and respectable.”

“So that you might further mitigate the risks, I suppose, should she find herself the recipient of some young man’s admiration. Someone of whom you do not approve.”

She was clever, Julia was. Muriel accordingly adjusted her mask of self-righteousness. “The wolves, Julia. They will descend. Mourning will protect her.”

“Or advertise the point. I’m not sure which.” Not that that was necessarily a problem. In fact… “Very well,” Julia conceded at last.

“And she should have a companion. A chaperone. Someone who will ward off those whose attentions are unwelcome.”

“Besides yourself, you mean?”

“You know how precarious one’s footing always is. I cannot risk her tattered reputation on my shoulders.”

“I think I can make arrangements for that.”

“I’m sure you can. That would be quite convenient for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Well if you will not do it, who will?”

Silence descended as they each considered.

“Lara,” they both said at once.

The decision, it seemed, was made. Julia took it upon herself to arrange for Imogen’s first few outings, and as she had promised that Roger would be kept preoccupied, Muriel willingly agreed. Julia’s connections and powers of influence were far superior to Muriel’s own. There was no use denying it, especially when such advantages were to benefit herself—and her niece, of course.

In the interim, Muriel was reminded of that which could no longer be delayed if Imogen was soon to go on the hunt for a husband. She wished to see her brother’s house. As Imogen, upon each petition, failed to acquiesce, Muriel became more importunate. She had heard what treasures were often left behind in the homes of misers and moneylenders, and as Imogen continued to refuse to go, even to allow Muriel to go alone, she consequently concluded that her brother’s house concealed greater treasures than she had previously supposed. Her petitions continued. Yet Imogen insisted she was not ready. She needed time before she would be prepared to enter that house again.