The Imaginary Gentleman (7 page)

“Edward—do you sit by while I am insulted?”

The captain shrugged. “I could not take your arm myself, Laura. I needed my stick to use the stairs.”

Laura gasped. All her support was knocked away.

“You planned this together,” she said.

“Laura, you must know of my deep regard for you.”

“She wanted to speak to me,” said Laura, her voice low with bitterness.

“Oh, Laura! Could you not see the old lady's confusion?”

“Besides,” said Elspeth, “I imagine she is the only soul in all of Lyme not to be witness to your unseemly behaviour!”

“Elspeth, our sister is to be pitied, not scolded,” said Edward.

“Pitied? Am I to be pitied?”

Edward reached over and patted her hand. “Let us cast aside all memory of this place and pass our time pleasantly at Oakmont.”

“Poor Edward,” said Elspeth. “To think you came to Lyme to have a happy time of it.”

“I am happy that I was at hand to protect my sisters.” He smiled. “What a fearsome opponent I am—for who would take on a one-armed man?”

Elspeth laughed, while Laura looked stonily out of the window.

 

The journey passed with desultory conversation between Edward and Elspeth. The three were occupied with their own thoughts. Edward wondered at Laura's preoccupation with a man of whom she knew so little. He suffered much anxiety on her account. Elspeth worried over the new responsibilities and possible restrictions upon her freedom now that her sister's commonsense and decorum could no longer be relied upon.

Meanwhile, Laura struggled to separate the different strands of her unpleasant situation: the probable restrictions on such freedom as was hers, the humiliation of being exposed as a fool and the decline she felt in her brother's regard for her. Above all, she suffered acute disappointment and perplexity over the entire course of the strange events surrounding Mr. Templeton.

At last, as they neared Oakmont, the familiar scenery began to cheer Laura a little. Perhaps it was possible for life to resume its old shape, she thought.

“Everything here is just as it always was,” said Elspeth, as the carriage rumbled through the village of Oakmont.

“I believe I see a new sign over Georgeson's shop,” said Edward. “That is as dramatic a novelty as we will ever see here.”

“Indeed,” said Elspeth.

What a pity our father was the younger son, she thought. We might have lived here in a little elegance, instead of growing up in the parsonage. If Richard dies childless, my brother will be the next baronet.

“It is a wonder our father did not join the navy, instead of becoming a clergyman,” she said. As second son, their father had always known his brother would inherit all, while he must find a way to support himself.

“He would not have profited as I have,” said Edward. “I have the war to thank for allowing me to build my fortune.”

Laura continued to look out of the window, wondering if Edward felt his gains justified what he had lost. She still remembered him begging to be allowed to go to sea. His father wished him to have a gentleman's education, take his degree and accept a parish from his family. Such a living offered respectability and security. However, Mr. Morrison had not the spirit to prevent twelve-year-old Edward from having his way. Nine years later, the outbreak of war with France had offered Edward his great chance. Another eleven years and he captured a valuable ship, and his prize money—added to his reward for capturing many prisoners—had established him. But to what end? Laura thought. Not the happiness he had dreamed of with Miss Charlotte Hadfield.

They drove past the stone walls of Oakmont's fine park, in through the iron gates and rumbled along the gravel drive.

“Dear Oakmont,” said Elspeth.

Three tall roof peaks came into view, then the house itself, its lime-washed walls bright in the dull day. The carriage pulled up and Sir Richard Morrison appeared on the steps, his head poking forward, tortoise-like, above his scrawny figure.

“Dear Richard!” murmured Elspeth, and she looked thoughtfully at Laura's face.

L
AURA DETERMINED TO SEIZE UPON
the opportunity to appear to advantage. For dinner she donned her new gown, which was white with an overskirt of emerald silk and hung in a deep v-shape at the back. Sarah wove a braid of matching green cord through her brown hair, pinned up in the Greek style.

“Oh, you look lovely, miss!” said Sarah.

Laura did not reply.

“Are you not pleased?”

“Bless you, Sarah—yes!” Laura gave herself a little shake.

On leaving her room, Laura all but collided with one of her sister's footmen standing near her door.

“What do you here, Jonathon?”

“Mrs. Evans's orders, madam. I am to attend you from now on.”

“I shall not lose my way to the drawing room.”

Jonathon blushed. “Of course you'd not do that.”

She smiled ironically and went along the corridor to the top of the stairs that led down to the hall, conscious of his attendance close behind her. She half-turned her head and made a gesture for him to fall back a little, which he did. Laura proceeded to the drawing room feeling a prickle of irritation down her back.

In the long drawing room, Laura found Elspeth engaged in her lacework.

“My darling Laura, you look delicious. Have you donned your new gown in my cousin's honour?” she said, smiling archly.

“Don't be so foolish. Why was Jonathon standing outside my door? He followed me like a puppy downstairs!”

Elspeth whispered theatrically, “The world shall know that my sister does not go without protection.”

“What nonsense! To what harm shall I come in my cousin's house?”

“I shall take every precaution to ensure that nothing does.”

“I will not be hounded like this! I shall appeal to my brother.”

“Edward is equally determined to protect you from yourself.”

“What?”

“Hush! Here come the gentlemen now.”

Elspeth on the arm of the baronet, and Laura alongside her brother, they proceeded along the gallery, which crossed the width of the house.

“Edward,” Laura said softly. “Elspeth has Jonathon following me about!”

“Dearest girl, your sister is anxious to establish your respectability.”

“It needs no establishing. I shall be driven mad!”

“You will accustom yourself to it, Laura.” He wedged his stick beneath the stump of his arm and patted her arm with his freed hand. She drew her arm away.

“This difficult time will pass—it will be forgot!”

They dined in the great hall, all sitting at one end of the immense oak table that had stood in that spot, nigh immovable, for over two hundred years. The coat of arms of the old queen cast patches of its rich colours over the scene. In spite of his height, Sir Richard Morrison seemed dwarfed by the high carved back of the chair, of which he never seemed to occupy the centre, but leant to one side, as though making room for a shadowy other.

The footman had placed the dishes upon the table. Platters of roast meats, vegetables fried or served in creamy sauces, were among the dishes.

“What is the pie, Smithson?” asked the baronet.

“Pork, sir.”

There was also an excellent pigeon pie, the contents announcing themselves by an avian head decorating the pastry on the top.

It was the first anniversary of Mr. Evans's death, and Elspeth was no longer called upon to appear all in black. She was in half-mourning, the dark sheen of her silk gown trimmed with white lace and sash. She wore a little black beaded cap among her fair curls, with white feathers tilting forward from the back.

“You look very well, Elspeth,” said Edward. “I am happy to see you cast off your weeds.”

“I thank you, sir,” said Elspeth with a little bow of her head. Of course, Edward could have no notion of the quality—or cost—of the exquisite Brussels lace at the low neck of her gown. She glanced questioningly at Sir Richard.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, indeed. I agree … with Edward. Very becoming, Elspeth.”

Elspeth tilted her head in a parade of modesty. “One can display one's mourning for too long, so that others are discomfited.”

The gentlemen murmured in agreement, and Elspeth looked sharply at her sister, feeling that Laura's expression of detachment was not complimentary.

“Of what are you thinking, dear Laura?”

“It would be better not to ask, dear Elspeth.”

“Wolf-Fish—my favourite!” said Elspeth. The large piece of poached fish was presented in a sauce of wine and herbs. “Your cook always takes such care of me, Sir Richard.”

“Did she send an express messenger to Portsmouth fish markets, Elspeth? An extraordinary achievement,” said Laura. She could well imagine the upheaval in the kitchen when their party arrived unannounced, a month early.

While Elspeth picked daintily at a piece of Wolf-Fish, Edward said, “Laura, too, is wearing a new gown, I think.”

Sir Richard leant forward, his thinning brown hair flopping a little, as he said, “Very … becoming, Laura. You look very pretty tonight.”

She laughed—a slight, almost hollow sound. “I thank you, Richard,” she said.

Elspeth cut in, “Laura would be more often described as fine-looking than pretty.”

“I never seem to choose the correct word, do I? Never mind, Laura, for to me you are very pretty.”

Elspeth looked in exasperation at the ceiling. Sir Richard drew back the corners of his mouth, like a gawkish adolescent who knew
not how to get along in company and feared a scolding later. He gave Laura a look that was almost desperate—she understood how Elspeth intimidated him.

“I wish that everyone was so afflicted in their address, Richard, if they would say such pleasant things.”

His brotherly smile had just a hint of foolishness, and Laura could not help contrasting it with that intelligent passion she had seen in Mr. Templeton's eyes. The thought of him, before she knew it, transported her to that street that sloped so precipitously down to the sea. She all but braced herself against the buffeting of the wind, tasting the saltiness of it on her lips, and gasping a little at its chilly power. She recalled his sudden appearance, felt warmed again by that last look of fervent admiration, so that a thrill of purest pleasure filled her.

It was a second of ecstasy severed by remembering that all was at an end. She became aware of her surroundings, trying to secretly catch her breath in a struggle to recover her countenance. Her relations were all regarding her in silence. There was no sound, a footman stood frozen in the act of placing a dish upon the table, glancing nervously at the butler. Elspeth nodded and the dish was put in its place. The butler moved forward to pour more wine.

“You become more absent-minded by the day, Sister!” said Elspeth.

Sir Richard said, “You seem somehow changed, Laura.”

“I? Changed?” Her voice was brittle with her attempt at humour. “Now, we know that will never be, for I shall always be the same Long Laura. I shall become again, in time, Lofty Laura with the Long Tongue, I daresay.”

Sir Richard laughed happily, beating time on the arm of his chair, saying “Lofty Laura! Lofty Laura!”

Elspeth cried, “How can you repeat such vile epithets, from childish times?”

“They do date from childish times, when perhaps I was not always so guarding of my tongue,” said Laura. “As we do not all improve as we grow old, perhaps I shall be one of the unimproved—
a wicked old lady who has forgotten how to soften the edges of her speech.”

“You do not always remember to do so now,” sniffed her sister.

Sir Richard was looking sad, and opened his mouth wordlessly.

Laura forced a smile. “Sometimes people are so foolish as to forfeit all claim to my indulgence.”

“You are always generous to me, Laura,” said Sir Richard. “And I am as foolish as any.”

“Indeed you are not foolish, Richard!” exclaimed Elspeth. “You are the head of the family, and a man of property.”

“An estate that you manage very well,” said Edward. “Your son will be grateful to you.”

Sir Richard blushed. “I know not if there will be a son.”

Edward laughed. “A son will follow after you take a wife, Cousin.”

“Take a wife?” Sir Richard seemed mesmerised by Elspeth's feathers, bouncing as she leant forward, nodding her head conspiratorially.

“We shall find you a bride, Richard, in your own circle of acquaintances. I imagine that there is any number of young ladies vying for the position.”

“I…I … would not have you interfere, Elspeth.”

“A good marriage is always a question of interference, Richard. It was our Aunt Morrison who convinced me to listen to Mr. Evans, and thus I discovered his excellent qualities. How gloomy you were about it all, Laura.”

“I was concerned for your happiness.”

“There are many paths leading to that elusive state. No, it is much better as it is. I am in a position to offer my sister a home a good deal more comfortable than she may otherwise have found.”

 

The meal came to an end. The gentlemen stood while the ladies went across the dining hall and into the wide gallery. The sisters went up the left branch of the stairs to the solar, so pleasant in the autumn, with the rosy light of the setting sun sliding across the room. There Elspeth seated herself at the pianoforte and began to look through the music.

Laura took out her sketchbook. “You seem determined to interfere in everyone's life,” she said.

“You will scarcely feel restricted, if you avoid doing anything foolish, such as writing letters to the wrong people.”

Laura turned to her. “Letters?”

“I am to see them before they are sent.”

“You cannot do this to me, Elspeth!”

“Can I not? If you write nothing of which you might be ashamed, you cannot object to my seeing them.” She turned a bland smile upon her sister. “There is no way around this, Laura. The servants know where their best interests lie.”

Laura knew how little a servant could afford to risk being dismissed without a reference.

“You abuse your power, Elspeth.”

“My family's reputation is everything to me. You know that the slightest slip from probity in a female causes disgrace to all her connections.”

Laura turned away. She stood now accused of threatening all her family with scandal—over what? For a few moments, she studied her sketch of the Pinney at Lyme. She had shown part of the fallen cliff and captured the richness of the verdure but she was too angry to contemplate it with satisfaction.

She put it down and went over to the piano.

“Why do you threaten to find a wife for Richard? He will be miserable if married to a woman who took him only for the position he offers.”

Elspeth played a few light chords on the instrument before saying, “He is incompetent in the art of obtaining a wife.”

“He would prefer the single state than to be tied to a woman of your choice.”

Elspeth's nimble fingers trilled across the keys, before she stopped and turned on the stool to look at her sister.

“My interference is designed to keep Richard out of the married state.”

“What?”

“You know how stubborn he can be.” Elspeth rose and wandered daintily around the room, touching an ornament here and there. Coming close to Laura, she said quietly, “Our brother should be master of this house. If only Richard had been a girl, Edward would now be baronet.”

“Edward would never have such thoughts.”

“He cannot but think of it. It is Richard's inheritance that sent my brother to his fate.”

“You cannot blame Richard for inheriting his own father's estate.”

The delicate rosy light was fading from the sky, the large windows slowly turning a darker blue. Elspeth's lace took on the colour of a bruise. She continued, in a whisper, “There is another way to pass the estate to our side of the family.”

“I don't even wish to think of what that means.”

Laura felt goosebumps rise, as Elspeth's fingers caressed the back of her neck.

“Richard never has an original idea in his head. You might supply the imagination that is missing.”

Laura looked at her coolly. “Let us have some light, Elspeth. You are standing by the bell. Why do you not ring it?”

 

Meanwhile, in the dining hall, Edward had given Sir Richard the hint to dismiss the servants after the decanters had been set out.

“Richard, you will have perceived that all is not well with Laura just now.”

“She is not her usual self.”

“She has had a disappointment in Lyme, which prompted us to come to you earlier than planned.”

The baronet's mouth drooped. “Poor Laura!”

“A gentleman showed admiration, only to decamp without a farewell.”

“She deserves better!” said Sir Richard.

“Yes, yes. I am sorry to add that Laura has behaved in a peculiar manner, refusing to accept his defection. She went out, twice, in search of information of his whereabouts.”

“Impossible!” said Sir Richard. “Laura has too much pride.”

“Richard, I cannot convey the alarm that Elspeth and I have experienced. Laura only met the gentleman three times, hardly the base for affection.”

“Love at first sight …?”

“There can be no such thing!”

Sir Richard at once capitulated. “Of course!”

“Laura insisted that her admirer met with an accident.”

“Perhaps he has?”

“Ridiculous, Richard. I hope you won't encourage Laura in these theories.”

“Of course, I wouldn't like to prolong her suffering by raising her hopes.”

Edward leant forward. “It is of the utmost importance that you concur with our arrangements, Richard.”

Sir Richard looked wary. “Which are?”

“Elspeth has appointed Jonathon, her most trusted servant, as Laura's constant guard. She will not leave the house without him.”