Althea (20 page)

She did not know when she fell asleep, and perhaps if she
had known what an uneasy, tossing sleep it would be, Althea would have pressed
harder to remain awake.

o0o

The next morning Francis observed to his wife that Ally
seemed a trifle out of sorts. Maria, not considering what she said, assured her
husband that she was sure her sister was fretting a trifle over Sir Tracy.

“Got a
tendre
for him? That could be bad business,
Mary.”

Maria stirred uneasily and decided that she felt absolutely
unnatural in keeping a secret from her husband. “I told Ally I’d never tell a
soul until she gave me leave, but surely you don’t count in that. It is so
famous! Calendar has asked Althea to marry him!” Maria wore a pretty air, so
full of triumph that Francis rewarded her with a kiss. Then his expression
sobered.

“That why we’ve had him underfoot these weeks? Really think
you might have told me, Mary. Can’t allow Calendar to go on waiting for the
blunt I owe him if he’s to marry Ally. Damned bad sport.”

“But Francis,” Maria protested in agitation, “can we afford
to pay Sir Tracy such a dreadful lot of money?”

Her husband, who in certain moments could summon a manner
almost paternal in dealing with his wife, patted her shoulder comfortingly.
“Mean a little tightening of the belt for a while, but I fancy we shall be
equal to that, hey?” Maria nuzzled the hand with her chin and smiled in a
manner that indicated that, had she anything so unlikely as a belt, she would
gladly tighten it and follow him to the ends of the earth. “Clear this thing up
this very day,” Francis said purposefully. He paused only to refresh himself
with an embrace from his dutiful wife before he plunged out the door and down
the street. He had gone some hundred yards in the wrong direction before he
realized it, righted himself (to the consternation of several passersby), and
charged off in the direction of Cavendish Street.

When he arrived at Cavendish Street, still full of fervent
resolve to rid himself of debt and become, if necessary, poor but honorable for
his sister-in-law’s sake, he was informed by Sir Tracy’s butler, the efficient
Gergeley, that the master was out. Further inquiry fixed Calendar’s probable
whereabouts as Jackson’s Saloon or Manton’s Gallery, at either of which places
Sir Tracy was often wont to take his exercise of a morning. Francis had by now
discovered that walking purposefully for some distance over a short period of
time could be fatiguing to a gentleman who had not retired until four in the
morning. He hailed a chair and gave the direction for Manton’s. He did not find
Calendar there, but as he arrived at Jackson’s, he found Sir Tracy just upon
the point of leaving, drawing on his gloves.

“Morning, Bevan. I don’t believe that I can recall ever
having seen you abroad at this hour,” Calendar drawled politely.

“Not much for these damned early hours myself. Something
unnatural about wandering around at such an hour in town. Uhh, I say, Calendar,
could I have a word with you?” Now that he was face to face with the object of
his search, Francis was a little less sure of how to proceed with this
embarrassing matter.

“Come up in my carriage, then. If what you have to say will
take longer than the distance from here to Grosvenor Square, I can always take
my cattle around the Park a time or two. Which shall it be?” Eustace handed his
master the whip and ribbons and stood from the leaders. Francis said it had
better be the Park, then fell silent while Eustace clambered up to his place
behind.

“Bevan,” Calendar suggested gently after a time, “I believe
you have something to discuss with me?”

Francis came perilously close to blushing, and began
falteringly to speak. “Understand that you’ve fixed your interest with my
sister Ally. Felt I ought to —” Francis began, before a choking sensation
halted his progress.

“Are you come to inquire as to my intentions? I assure you
they are of the most honorable. I only wait Althea’s leave to post the notice
of a betrothal in the
Gazette
.”

“Good God,” Francis cried, honestly revolted. “You don’t
suppose I’d take it upon myself to manage Ally’s affairs, d’you?”

“Then what are you broaching,” Tracy asked with visible
patience. Behind him Eustace was listening to the conversation with some
interest and little comprehension; at this point be abandoned any attempt to
make head or tail of what was being said and instead occupied himself with
ogling the passing females.

“Still have a debt outstanding to you. Never would have kept
it outstanding this way, but things are a trifling bit tight just at present,
and you did say that there was no press about it. Now that I know how things
are between you and Ally — well, of course it won’t do to have it unpaid. My
man of business will take care of it tomorrow.”

“I am afraid I cannot even recall what the sum was anymore,
Bevan. I must apologize for my poor memory, but since we are, I hope, to be
brothers, and since I obviously cannot have attached too much importance to the
debt in the first place, what d’you say we call it settled? Now if you could
perhaps persuade that devilishly stubborn
belle-soeur
of yours to allow
me to make our engagement public, I would be much in
your
debt.”

“You mean Ally doesn’t want to marry you?” Francis asked in
some surprise.

“Oh, she wants to. The trouble is that she doesn’t know it
yet,” Tracy said grimly.

Francis, like his wife, was fully aware of the coup Althea
had pulled off in snaring Calendar, and it was beyond him that Althea could not
appreciate it as well. The sort of subtleties Sir Tracy was suggesting were
beyond Francis. “She doesn’t know it yet?” he echoed weakly.

“You were from town while all this happened, but she took a
fancy to a man who was already betrothed, and when she discovered her mistake,
she became engaged to me instead. I think it suited her purposes just then —
except that the fellow doesn’t know of it, so I cannot see what good it does
her. You look confused, Bevan. Can’t say that I blame you. Trying to keep track
of Althea’s whims may occupy the rest of my life. It is fortunate that I have
the inclination to do exactly that. In any case, I asked for her hand and she
said yes — with a little provocation of a not exactly romantic nature. But let
me assure you that she does want to marry me. She doesn’t know it yet, but she
does. Or she will, I hope.”

“I see,” Francis said, who did not see at all. “But are you
serious in that you are willing to cancel that debt?”

“I should think it only good taste,” Tracy explained with a
little less patience. The phaeton was now making a second circuit of the Park.
“It seems rather uncouth to dun one’s brother-in-law for some trifling gaming
debt.” Francis, to whom the debt was by no means trifling, thought this the
most beautiful sentiment he had ever heard. “Now,” Tracy continued, “with that
business completed, do you think that I might return you to Grosvenor Square?
And would you please give Althea my regards and tell her that I regret I shall
not be able to call on her this afternoon, but will look for her at the play
this evening.”

Francis agreed meekly. With dispatch Sir Tracy returned his
prospective brother-in-law to his house, paused long enough to recall Francis
to his message for Althea, and then, with Eustace hanging on behind, left the
vicinity.

Maria was waiting in the doorway, very fetching in a morning
gown of blue crepe, with a look of wifely anxiety on her face. As nothing was
better calculated to make Francis feel that he was master of his kingdom, he
immediately and gratifyingly undertook to assure his wife that all was well.

“Francis, will you for pity’s sake speak to me! Are we quite
poor? Did you speak to Sir Tracy?” Maria’s face spoke of a determination to be
bravely poor, no matter how much (and she was sure it would be a great deal)
she disliked it.

Francis, with the air of one who has brought off a coup of
some magnitude, announced that Sir Tracy Calendar was a Trojan. Maria, not sure
how to handle such a declaration, demanded a clarification.

“Like a man and a brother, Calendar has canceled the debt.
Said he could not think of that kind of debt between us — not to start anyway.
He made no promises about after he and Ally are leg-shackled. So you see, you
may continue to buy yourself as many geegaws as you like, with my blessing.”

“And you will try to be a little more circumspect with your
gaming, will you, my dearest?” Maria entreated sweetly. Francis suppressed a
moment’s annoyance at this mild scolding from his wife, and answered that he
would make an effort in that direction.

“Oh, and will you tell Ally that Calendar sent a message to
her? Said he couldn’t come round to call this afternoon, but presented his
compliments and hopes to see her at the play this evening.”

“What a provoking man. How did he know that Ally and I were
engaged for the play tonight? And will you please come with us, dearest? I will
not think on what a trial that man is, but be happy for Althea’s sake — and,
Francis, do you mean that he has forgiven you that entire enormous amount of
money? I am in transports!” The full impact of Francis’s announcement had at
last struck Maria: she sat down very hard on the nearest available chair.

“Well, of course, goose, did I not say so? I don’t mind
saying that it would have set me back considerably to have had to pay the debt
right away. I call that right brotherly.” Francis was infected with his wife’s
amazement, infused with giddy elation, which led him momentarily to dispose of
the fortunes of others with the same abandon he had used in nearly divesting
himself of his own. “After all, Mary, Calendar can afford to make a pretty
gesture, he’s rich as Croesus! What’s a piddling sum of ten thousand pounds to
him? Especially when he’s to marry Althea. Nothing less to be expected of a
gentleman.”

Maria, to whom the sum of ten thousand pounds was so
ridiculously high as to be incomprehensible, fell from her gasping silence to a
slightly hysterical giggling, which mingled with Francis’s own chuckles. He
lifted his wife from her chair and, holding her considerably closer than the
twelve inches prescribed at Almack’s, began to whirl her around the room in a
waltz that seriously endangered the well-being of the furniture.

To Debbens and the second housemaid, lingering outside the
door, the sounds that issued from the morning room were altogether
incomprehensible.

“Gentry!” Debbens snorted to the maid, who greeted this
statement with a nod and a look of definite admiration. They turned from the
door to find Mrs. Chaverly glowering at them; the maid went about her business
with chastened alacrity; Debbens returned to his work and went through the day
with a peculiarly harried look.

Financial difficulties dissolved, Maria spent the afternoon
at Madame Helena’s warehouse, and saw neither her sister nor Miss Laverham when
she came to call in Grosvenor Square. This time it was Althea who had the
advantage of Georgiana, who stood, tentative and chilled, in the doorway of the
Bevans’ drawing room.

“We shall have our tea straightway, and that will help to
warm you,” Althea greeted her sensibly. A maid appeared and was told that Banders
should send down a warm shawl for Miss Laverham, and that tea should be brought
immediately. That done and the topic of the chill in the air having been
exhausted, Althea was disgusted to find that conversation had ceased between
them.

“This is dreadful. I cannot fathom why we find it so hard to
hold a rational conversation in simple insipidities like everyone else,” she
cried at length. Georgiana, who had been studying the braid on the shawl
Banders had provided, gave a start and colored. “What is the worst of it,”
Althea continued after the tea tray had been delivered, “is that there is not
the least reason in the world for
us
to feel awkward together. We
certainly have been more sinned against than sinning.”

Georgiana considered this. “But who
has
done the
sinning?” she asked. “I could not help it that I was ill, and if you did not
know of Edward’s commitment to me, you could not be blamed. is it all Edward’s
fault?”

“Well, you can hardly cherish the idea that I am a fatal
beauty anymore, can you,” Althea snorted. “I am all put out of patience with
the race of men. My father was so unreasonable that I ran away from him — and
my tiresome brother. And Francis — that is my sister’s husband Bevan — has
treated my sister very shabbily, along with his gaming, which has gotten him
very heavily into debt. Oh dear.” Althea shook her head angrily at the thoughts
that whole imbroglio conjured up for her. “And then your dear Edward comes and
makes me believe that he is unattached, and genuinely fond of me, which I know
now must have been the greatest piece of flummery. And finally Tracy! Oh, it is
beyond anything dreadful.”

Georgiana stared at Althea with fascination. “Are you not,
perhaps, too hard on them?”

“I am tired to death of being patient all the time. I wonder
you are not as well. You must admit that Pendarly has treated you shabbily.” As
she continued, the last night’s brooding infected Althea with a certain
evangelical turn of phrase, and she spoke in a decidedly strongminded manner
which would have appalled Maria.

“Well, I have never been used to thinking in such a
fashion,” Georgiana began cautiously. “I don’t know if Edward really treated me
ill or no — I was ill and he was lonely and you are pretty and so much more —
more interesting than I am. I’m afraid that I have no spirit at all,” Georgiana
concluded sadly.

“You certainly have none if you cannot feel in the least
abused when your betrothed takes the opportunity of your illness — just when he
ought to be concerned only for your welfare — to make advances toward some
strange woman. You have far more patience than ever I could muster,” the
“strange woman” said with fervor.