The Imaginary Gentleman (27 page)

“I do not repine,” said Mr. Reece. “Since his inheritance of my great-uncle's estate, my Uncle Whichale has been kindness itself—he has been so generous as to purchase my excellent commission,” he said.

“What an exemplary uncle!” said Elspeth.

Laura too was surprised. She had asked Edward no questions about the details of Mr. Whichale's establishment. His estate must be much greater than I imagined, she thought. For a gentleman with grandchildren of his own to buy a nephew an expensive commission presumed a generous income indeed. Unless, of course, there had been provision in the will of the old man; that was a likely explanation.

“I tell you nothing you will not hear in the town,” Mr. Reece said. “It is common knowledge hereabouts that there was a quarrel between the old gentleman and my grandmother, his sister, long before he died. My branch of the family expected nothing from him but my uncle says I must not suffer for that old quarrel.”

Suddenly the picture came to Laura's mind of Mrs. Gurdon, seated in a corner of the ballroom with two or three elderly chaperones. Laura could even bring to mind the old lady's humorous tone of voice as she said of Mr. Reece: “He has a dreadful, rich old uncle, my dear, who, these ladies say, must surely alter his will in favour of this wondrous youth.” Her whimsical look had made Laura laugh and Mrs. Gurdon had said, “I don't know that old gentlemen place the same value upon a young man's shining eyes and courtly attentions as old ladies do. The uncle is quite the hermit, they say, so I know not what is the source for that story—I imagine it is all imagination.” Half an hour later, all thought of this trivial piece of gossip had been driven from Laura's head when Mrs. Gurdon was suddenly
taken ill. Laura had sat with her friend for some time during the next day or two, and had the satisfaction of seeing her much improved. After a few days, they had taken that walk together—the last the old lady ever took in her life.

Laura looked at the young officer as he chatted happily with his new acquaintances. He felt her glance, which conveyed a sudden uncertainty and he smiled with a candid sympathy in his expression so that Laura knew at once that he had heard something of her story.

The countess invited their new friend to join them for refreshments.

“Your ladyship did not eat a proper breakfast!” said Elspeth.

“Never mind that! Will you come, sir, or do you dare shun us?”

“Indeed I do not dare, your ladyship.”

They discovered Mrs. Bell occupying a chair by the window, where she worked at her tapestry. On the table lay a sketch of how Mrs. Evans might put together the embroidery she wanted.

“How clever you are, Mrs. Bell,” said Elspeth. “I shall be eternally grateful.”

“Mrs. Bell is prodigiously accomplished,” said the countess.

“She works now on a banner with Morrison crest—as a favour to my cousin, Sir Richard,” said Elspeth.

“I made Sir Richard's acquaintance some time ago at my uncle's house,” said the lieutenant. “He interested himself in my uncle's project of restoring the old house.”

“My cousin is famous for his attention to these matters,” said Elspeth.

“Your family name is of some renown,” said the lieutenant. “I saw the announcement of Captain Morrison's marriage in the newspaper yesterday. The landlord at the Lion read it aloud to those at breakfast in the public dining room.”

“We are very proud of our brother, sir. Are we not, Laura?”

“Indeed.”

“What can you tell us about your regiment? Have you met many of your brother officers, yet?” asked the countess.

Mr. Reece obliged them with an entertaining story of his first encounter with some excellent men, seemingly his firm friends already.

What a charmed life he leads, thought Laura.

They could not detain the young man as long as they may have liked, for he made his excuses on the grounds of the duty he owed to his aunt. He bowed and left them.

The door cut off their view of the young officer, and Elspeth collapsed upon the sofa with a cross little sigh. The countess leant back in her armchair and wordlessly stretched out her hand for her novel, which Mrs. Bell jumped up to fetch. It was plain that good humour had disappeared with their charming guest.

A
T LAST THE BARONET RETURNED
, opening the door slowly, and edging his long frame into the room.

“Sir Richard, we have been waiting for you this age,” said Elspeth.

“I am very sorry,” he said.

“You might ring the bell, cousin,” said Elspeth. “I am desperate for a cup of tea.”

“Most gratified to be of assistance,” Sir Richard said, bowing twice.

Lady Clarydon ordered refreshments from the servant, while Sir Richard inched his way across the room to Laura.

“What an interesting drawing, Cousin. Is it the little beach here?”

Elspeth curled her lip. “It is not Grosvenor Square.”

They took tea in a frozen representation of civility, with Lady Clarydon not inclined to counterbalance Elspeth's ill-humour.

For the next hour, the baronet sat with the newspaper unread before his eyes. Elspeth's needle stabbed in and out of her embroidery. The countess yawned over her novel, while Mrs. Bell bent her nose close to her tapestry. Laura turned her chair so that her back was to them all, and occupied herself with her more wholesome task of representing nature. The minutes crawled by until it was time to dress for dinner.

 

Sarah had prepared a gown that had been laid aside these last weeks, white muslin, apricot-coloured embroidery down the front of the skirt, and on the sleeves. In her mistress's hair, Sarah wound a cord of twisted gold and orange silks.

“Oh, Miss Laura, you are so beautiful tonight.”

“You have armoured me splendidly for battle.”

Sarah giggled. “You are yourself again, madam.”

“Indeed I am!”

In her finery, Laura entered the parlour, only to be brought up short by the distinct air of stilted manners in the room. The three
ladies were ranged stiffly on a semi-circle of chairs in front of the sofa. Mrs. Evans brought to mind a bird of prey, with her erect posture and concentrated stare. The countess wore a mask of fashionable hauteur, through which shone a freezing glimmer from her eyes. Mrs. Bell's shoulders drooped; her entire body seemed to be collapsing, as though held upright only by her corset. Her eyes, too, were bent upon the gentleman, but in a mute plea. Before them, Sir Richard sprawled like a broken marionette upon the sofa.

They all turned to Laura, and the baronet struggled upright.

“Laura! You look very er …” His voice faded.

“She is the belle of the evening!” said Lady Clarydon.

Elspeth looked at her sister, her smile sour and reluctant.

Mrs. Bell made a tiny coughing sound. “Lovely … lovely,” she said.

Sir Richard grinned, as lopsided in his smile as in his body, and belatedly rose to his feet.

“Laura, I cannot account for your blooming so,” said Elspeth.

“There is something in her air that quite delights me,” said the countess.

“Pardon me, Cousin, for not rising at once,” said Sir Richard. “You took my breath quite away.”

“You are perfectly forgiven, sir.” Laura came to the sofa and sat at one end, while the baronet sank down on the other.

“Have you had a pleasant morning, your ladyship?” she asked.

“Thrilling. As you have too, Miss Morrison, unless your looks deceive me.”

Laura noticed Mrs. Bell shrink back into her chair, her mouth drooping, and turned back to the countess.

“I must thank you, your ladyship, for it was your inspiration that brought us here, where the sea and the wind have made me quite my old self again.”

“The elements were not so beneficial to your health when we were last in Lyme,” said Elspeth.

“Nor to yours, my dear sister,” said Laura. “You were sickly as I recall.”

Lady Clarydon laughed. Sir Richard rubbed his forehead, and glanced at Mrs. Bell. For a moment they stared at one another, confused and fearful.

Silence fell again. Sir Richard began to draw his watch from his pocket, but his courage failed him and he put it back. The seconds ticked by.

Suddenly, the door to their apartments was thrown open.

They all turned to see the captain, his cape billowing out as he entered the room. He took off his hat and tossed it onto a chair.

“Everyone is alive and well, I see.”

“Edward!” cried Elspeth, reaching out her arms to him.

Laura went to help him out of his cape.

Edward kissed her cheek and said, “I see you dressed for celebration. Have you named the day?”

Laura leant towards him and said, “Hush! I celebrate my own recovery.”

“How well and happy you look, Edward,” said Elspeth. “I trust you left our darling Evalina in good health.”

“I did, Elspeth.” He crossed to Elspeth's chair and kissed her. “Mrs. Morrison extends her compliments to you all.” There was a murmur of pleasure from the company.

The servant entered to announce that dinner was served.

“You have timed your arrival well, Cousin,” said Sir Richard, with heartfelt sincerity, and they all followed Lady Clarydon into the dining parlour.

Marriage certainly agreed with the captain. To his usual brisk and matter-of-fact air, there was now an element of complacency that helped to dispel the awkwardness of the party. He dominated the conversation, since they all had little to relate, discussing his domestic details with a relish Laura would never have predicted a few months before.

 

The countess had the discretion to retire early, followed by her companion.

The captain stood by the fire, his sisters and cousin seated around
him. “So, Elspeth,” he said. “What is the disaster that brought me here in a haste uncomplimentary to my wife?”

“Laura has had the immodesty, the ingratitude to break off her engagement to Richard.”

He turned to Laura. “Is this so?”

“Richard and I will not marry.”

Elspeth burst in again. “A
gentleman
would have refused to release her.”

Sir Richard was cut to the quick. “As a gentleman, how could I refuse to release a lady from an engagement?” he said.

Laura said, “Richard is in no way to blame.”

Edward leant against the end of the mantle. “Why have you taken this step, Laura?”

“I was sensible of the honour and advantages Richard offered. I love him dearly, but as a sister does, and know I could not make him happy as a wife.”

Edward looked at Sir Richard, half-expecting to see a look of pain on his face, but Sir Richard nodded in a sympathetic way.

“You too have altered your inclination, Cousin!” he said.

“No! No!” cried Sir Richard. “I have never wavered in my intention.”

“Your intention, only!” said Elspeth. “I would prefer an avowal of your continuing attachment to my sister.”

“I … I have ever …” Sir Richard looked at Laura, in appeal.

“You have ever
what
?” cried Elspeth.

“Ever held Laura in … highest esteem …” He trailed off.

“You never could tell a lie, Richard,” cut in Laura. “That is one of your many fine attributes.”

“You might stay out of this!” said Elspeth.

Laura jumped up and stood facing her, saying, “It does not concern me, perhaps?”

Elspeth looked at her in disdain. “You have created a problem for others to solve.”

“You are ridiculous, Elspeth. You seek to force this marriage upon us for reasons of your own.”

Elspeth at last dropped all semblance of loving concern. She spat out: “You have been unmanageable ever since we left Oakmont. How stubborn you were to listen to that silly letter business.”

“What letter?” said Edward.

Elspeth paused. “A horrid slattern at the Honiton Arms claimed that Laura wrote a letter—to a gentleman.”

Edward looked surprised. “What is this, Laura?”

Laura walked to the other side of the fireplace and stood facing him there. He saw, for all her anger, that she was quite herself within.

“As we left the inn, the maid who had served us at dinner claimed she knew some great secret about a letter I had written.”

“It would be no surprise if there was such a letter,” said Elspeth, with a nasty edge in her voice.

Laura did not look her way. “I am inclined to agree with Elspeth,” she said. “But only on account of the girl's incredulous expression when I denied it.”

Elspeth patted her lace collar. “My poor, poor Laura,” she said, her voice purring. “Are you the best judge of what exists and what does not?”

“Elspeth!” cried Edward.

Laura scarcely heard him, overwhelmed by a surge of fury and disgust for her sister. “How you have enjoyed poisoning my mind with insinuations these past weeks!”

Elspeth gave a little shrug. “One was hardly required to be inventive.”

“Silence, Elspeth, lest you do harm that cannot be undone!” said Edward.

“It is merely the truth, which Laura so values in my cousin.”

Laura said very quietly, “I did not know you to be so evil as this.”

Elspeth smiled, smoothing the silk of her gown. “Who wrote the letter, my poor deluded one—the countess? Mr. Woodruff perhaps?” she said.

The other three stared at her, appalled, while she continued to smile.

Laura said quietly, “I note your constant ridicule of every suggestion that the letter materially existed.”

“You are imagining things again!”

Laura looked at her coolly, with a calm masking her pain. “No, Elspeth, I am suspicious.”

“A lady does not interest herself in unseemly letters.”

“Ah, but you
do
, Elspeth.”

“How dare you!”

“Why did Mr. Woodruff hand you a letter so secretly that day, after his family dined with us at Oakmont?”

“He carried a letter to my housekeeper and brought back her reply. Why should I waste the expense of postage when Mr. Woodruff was to pass through St Austell?”

Laura looked at her thoughtfully. “I don't believe you, Elspeth. I believe you sent a letter, under cover to your housekeeper, intended for someone else.”

Elspeth blushed furiously and all but shrieked, “Do you hear her, Brother? Do you hear how she insults me?”

Edward shrugged slightly. “Why do you not answer the charge, Elspeth?”

“If a respectable widow cannot write to her own housekeeper, to whom may she write?”

“Then why did you accept the parcel so secretly? You tried to hide it from me in your shawl,” Laura said.

Elspeth leapt to her feet and rushed at her sister, her hand raised to slap her. Edward reached out and seized her arm.

“This is more of her nonsense, Edward,” cried Elspeth, struggling to pull out of his grip. “Laura is harking to her invented friend once more.”

“
You
connect that matter to your letter, not I,” said Laura. “Why—”

Laura broke off and an expression of incredulity came over her face, and the men saw that she looked at the lace, which had come loose from her sister's neck. “What is that?” Laura said.

A chain that had been concealed beneath Elspeth's bodice had come out in her struggle with Edward. On the end of the silver strand was a small brass key, with an ornate handle. Elspeth grabbed at it with her free hand.

“My key!” said Laura. “That is the other key to my desk.”

“No—it is mine,” said Elspeth.

Laura was shaking her head. “I cannot believe you capable of this. You have stolen the key to my desk.”

“It is not yours.”

“That is why you sent to St Austell so secretly. How did you know where it was?”

“I didn't!”

“Did you bid Mrs. Gooding ransack my room?”

Elspeth struggled to maintain her look of disdainful amusement.

“You did, I know it!” said Laura.

“Give me the key, Elspeth,” said Edward.

“It is mine.” Her blush was fading, to be replaced by two bright spots of anger in her cheeks.

“We can prove that by trying to open Laura's desk with it,” said Edward.

Elspeth undid the chain and gave the key to her brother, who dropped her arm to take it. “You need not take the trouble—it is Laura's,” she said. “But I had very good cause to do what I did.”

Laura was almost faint with horror. She reached out to support herself against the mantle. “You have read my journal!”

“I had to understand your mind.”

“You took that sketch.”

Elspeth looked on the point of denying it, but her shoulders slumped a little. “I did not wish you to be reminded of your humiliation.”

“No, Elspeth, you wished to drive me mad.”

“How can you be so unkind?” Elspeth put her handkerchief to her eyes.

“
I
am unkind? Not satisfied with taking one sketch, you tore the sketch of Mr. Templeton from my book and put it in the same place—to drive me crazy with doubt.”

“No … no … no.”

Laura sank onto a chair. She said, faintly, “You have ransacked more than my room—my journal, my sketches, my mind—my life.”

“You exaggerate, Laura. I only wished you to put the past behind you and marry my cousin.”

Laura ignored this. “Why do you hate me so?” she said.

“I don't hate you but how can I enter the level of society that I deserve encumbered by you?”

“What?”

“You stand in my way with your eccentric doings.”

“Elspeth, that is unjust,” said Edward.

Elspeth flared up. “Why is Laura never called upon to make sacrifices?” She turned again to her sister. “You think marriage to
Richard
would be irksome!” She waved her hand in the direction of the despised baronet. “At least he is young … ish, and in good health.”

Laura stared at her sister, incredulous and shocked. “It was your own mistake to marry for the wrong reasons. Why do you wish it upon Richard and me?”

“I am not free until I am free of you.”