“Missie won’t do you no good at all, Clay,” Rex
warned. “She’s too young, and besides she don’t hold a candle to the”—a killing grimace from Clay, accompanied by a resounding boot on the shin under the table brought him to a halt—”to—er—to Ellie,” he finished up, pleased with his quick-wittedness.
“I must speak to Mama. Pardon me,” Ellie said, dashing off as a tear glistened, half-formed, in her gray eyes.
“Now, see what you’ve done, clodpole,” Clay adjured severely.
“Dash it, what did I do? Just paying a compliment. Nothing to come the weepy over. Deuced strange business, Clay. Never knew Ellie to act so silly before. What ails her anyway, Missie?”
“She was embarrassed because you told Claymore she was wearing Caroline’s gown, I suppose. You ought not to have said anything.”
“Nothing wrong in that. You’re wearing your cousin Elizabeth’s. There, I’ve told Clay, and I don’t see you bursting into tears.” He did, however, see her burst into anger. Before she could say anything, he continued. “Didn’t tumble to it it was Caroline’s till I’d blurted it out. Too late then.
Tried
to cover it up. Daresay she wasn’t taken in. Too sharp.”
“And,” Missie broke into his story, “she was ready to
die
when you said about Clay meaning to have her. It was very bad of you to make fun of her in that way. She is older than Wanda, and will get razzing enough when Wanda’s engagement is announced as it is. It must be very trying to have such a beautiful sister. Dozens of them, in fact.”
“Only three,”
Rex corrected.
“Ellie is as pretty as the others,” Clay said, to no one in particular.
“I wasn’t making fun of her,”
Rex said, apologetically.
“You were so,” his little sister contradicted badly, “for naturally Claymore would never offer for Ellie.”
“That is odd you should say so,” Clay turned to Missie. “The other day you seemed to think I had come to the Abbey for that very purpose.”
“Mama thought so, but she really couldn’t believe it either, and she said it was much more like it when I told her it was Wanda you were after.”
“He ain’t after Wanda now, at any rate,” Rex said, and dipped into the plate of strawberry tarts, his favorite of all sweets.
Looking around the room, Clay discovered that Ellie was not with her mama, who was chatting with Mrs. Hibbard, George, and Wanda, in such a jolly fashion that one could imagine they were all one happy family already. Wanda was positively radiant with happiness, the headache miraculously cured.
He arose and strolled around the room, determining in the process that Ellie was nowhere present, then went outside.
He set about locating her, which involved walking along a few yards, and going through an arbor into a sequestered garden.
Ellie was there, pretty well concealed in a dark corner, weeping into her hankie.
“Is there something wrong. Miss Ellie?” he asked tentatively.
A sound of sniffling stopped abruptly, and a quick movement of the handkerchief tried to erase the evidence of her tears. “No. No, indeed. Merely I wished for a breath of air,” she lied promptly, in a voice very close to normal.
He came forward and sat beside her. She averted her head, which made conversation difficult. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said. The head turned to the front, not toward him, but no longer entirely away either.
“No, you didn’t,” she replied, in a flat voice
“Well, I think I did, and I am very sorry. Come, let us go back inside. Your mama will think it odd if you are missing when she begins looking about for you.” He reached out and tried to take one of her hands, the two of which were squeezed together in her lap, a soggy handkerchief between them. She held them even tighter, and pulled them away a little.
“You go back in,” she said evenly. “I—I have got something in my eye, and wish to remain a moment, till it goes away, for it is watering a bit.”
“Ellie.” It was a soft, cajoling tone. He reached out and with one finger tilted her face toward him, but in the concealing shadows he could see nothing but a white oval, with a cloud of dark hair around it, and a sparkle that might have been eyes. It stirred some vague memory, excited him. She made no move to pull away, and he said nothing more, but just sat looking, not even thinking, but feeling something very moving. The sweet, persuasive scent of the roses all about them hung heavy on the air. Suddenly a soft, hiccoughing sound, as of a swallowed sob, escaped her. He was overcome with a compelling emotion to reach out and take her in his arms, to cradle her, and protect her from whatever was hurting her. He did reach out, but she pulled back so violently that she very nearly fell off the seat, and he was left with his two hands extended into empty space, looking and feeling extremely gauche indeed. “I wasn’t about to strangle you,” he said sharply, though once the words were out, it didn’t sound a bad idea.
“Go away. Please go away,” she said in a choked voice.
“I don’t see why you are making such a to-do of nothing,” he complained, angry at the sudden break in mood. “I have never seen a girl act so foolishly only because someone tries to compliment her.”
“You were not complimenting me,” she shot back.
“I
am not so stupid as not to realize when I am being laughed at, and right to my face too. You would never have behaved so rudely to Wanda, or anyone else, I daresay. And I am not trying to
nab
you, so don’t think it.”
“You will never nab anyone if you go on in this childish fashion when you get to London. I should think that with three sisters you would have more—more sense,” he finished up lamely.
“I am not going to London. I have decided tonight.
You
have decided me. If this is the way gentlemen behave in London, I have no desire to meet them.”
“What, only because I have said you were looking pretty!”
“Laughing at me! You think because you are a marquis with twenty thousand pounds a year you may act as you please.”
“News certainly travels fast,” he said ironically. God, he might as well wear a sign.
“Yes, particularly when you go bragging about it, as if that made you something special, only because you were
born
into a title and fortune, and have never done the least thing to merit it.”
“Bragging! I hope I am not so crude as that.”
“Well, you are, for the very first time I ever saw you, you told me you were the Marquis of Claymore, with twenty thousand a year.”
“Strange I have no recollection of the occasion.”
“You were so disguised you don’t remember,” she retaliated.
He didn’t believe her, and thought she had the story from someone else. Lady Siderow perhaps, and was only trying to cover up her error in letting it slip out. “Unwise of you to antagonize me, wasn’t it?” he asked coolly. “You won’t meet many marquises, with twenty thousand a year.”
“I hope I don’t meet
any
more, if they are all as odious as you.”
“You will find they are. The dukes with twenty-five thousand are even worse, but it doesn’t prevent their marrying the prettiest girls in town.”
“You are insufferably conceited and arrogant and—”
“And rich,” he finished for her, as she appeared to have run out of compliments. He was in such ill humor at this calling down that he had to return the blow in some manner. “You know, Ellie, you are pretty stupid yourself. Before our little ...
chat,
it had been my intention to offer for you.” The idea had occurred to him, fleetingly.
She heard it and gasped. “You have saved us both an unnecessary embarrassment then,” she replied in a chill tone, “by not doing so.”
“So it seems.
If you are quite sure you are in no need of help, I shall return to the ballroom.”
“Why should I need help from you?” she snapped, which had the effect of getting his lordship to his feet and on his stiff-legged way back to the ball, and leaving her alone to sniffle into her wet hankie with renewed vigor.
Chapter Seven
The next morning Rex Homberly was surprised and delighted when his friend suggested an early remove to Bath. “Not going to make a pitch for Ellie, then?”
Rex asked.
“No, it was Wanda I preferred. Perhaps the whole thing was madness.”
“Always thought so m’self,”
Rex said sagely, nibbling his thumb. “Whole thing will be forgotten by the fall. Silly to go shackling yourself for life to a pretty widgeon like Wanda only because the Rose broke your heart. Well, Wanda is to have Hibbard, after all. Mama had it of Mrs. Wanderley last night, so if you don’t fancy Ellie, we might as well leave for Bath this afternoon.”
“Let us go this morning.”
“Thought I’d ride over and congratulate Miss Wanda on the announcement. Mama says I should. You ought to come too, Clay. No point in letting her think she’s got you all cut to shreds. Wouldn’t satisfy her. Let her see you’re merry as a grig before you go.”
“Very well,” Clay agreed readily, and felt a stirring of anticipation that had nothing to do with seeing Wanda.
They rode out around ten. During the trip
Rex asked, “Wonder if she’ll go to London next year.”
“She says not,” Clay replied.
“That so? Well, Hibbards don’t have a London residence, but I’m surprised she don’t try to talk him into renting one.”
“Hibbards? Did you think she would stay with Wanda? I thought it more likely she would go to Lady Siderow’s.”
“Eh? What the devil are you talking about, Clay? Why would Wanda go to Lady Siderow’s?”
“Wanda? I was speaking of Ellie.”
“Oh,
Ellie.
She’ll go to London, certainly. Next year is to be her year. That was always understood. Can’t see why they didn’t take her this year. Looked very well last night. If they’d got her rigged out like that earlier, she could be getting married this year as well as Wanda.”
“She said she wouldn’t go to London.”
“She will, though. Won’t have a thing to say about it. Why’d she say she wouldn’t?”
Clay squirmed uncomfortably in the seat of the curricle and prevaricated. “She doesn’t care much for the social whirl, I believe.”
“Pooh. What’s that got to do with it? Got to go to London. How else will she make a decent match? Wanda got Hibbard. Ain’t anyone else around here except me, and
I
don’t mean to have her.”
“I suppose she will go when the time comes.” A soft smile curved his mouth. A frightful temper the girl had. Ripping up at him only because he had tried to compliment her. There would be some burning ears next Season, for she would come in the way of a good many compliments if he knew anything of London beaux.
Wanda and her mama sat in state in the Green Saloon, awaiting congratulatory callers. Wanda was exquisite in a white gown with a blue satin sash, a pert blue bow tucked into her coiffure. She began demurely batting her lashes and smiling smugly when Claymore offered his congratulations.
“Fortunately for me, George does not prefer blondes,” she said to him, flirting still in spite of her new status as a betrothed lady, and with the same tired old joke. The girl was incorrigible.
She
would never fly into the boughs and rip up at you only because you praised her a little, nor ever mistake a genuine compliment for an insult.
“Where is your sister this morning?” Clay asked.
“She has the headache,” Wanda replied, still smiling smugly. “Very odd that
my
becoming engaged before her should bring on the migraine,” and she laughed, showing her even little white teeth. He felt a strong desire to box her pink ears.
“Yes, particularly as it was
you
who had the Season in London,” he could not refrain from reminding her.
“I was only there for two weeks,” she replied angrily.
Later he overheard her say in a stage whisper to Rex that she was afraid she had hurt Claymore more than she thought, and she hoped he would soon get over it. He could barely keep his tongue between his teeth, and arose after only ten minutes, excusing himself and Rex on the pretext of their imminent departure for Bath.
Strangely enough, Ellie’s headache cleared up immediately she heard their curricle pull down the drive, in spite of her younger sister’s engagement. She joined the others in the Green Saloon.
“What had
Rex to say?” Ellie asked, meaning what had Claymore to say.
“They didn’t stay above a minute,” Wanda told her. “Claymore was very blue, but trying to hide it, you know.”
“I still think you would have done better to have taken Claymore,” Mrs. Wanderley repined, for perhaps the tenth, but certainly not the last, time that day. Wanda tossed her black curls and pouted.
“He only wanted me to parade in front of Miss Golden. I do not see why I should oblige him.”
“She could not very well have taken him, Mama, when he didn’t make her an offer,” Ellie pointed out.
“Pooh! I could have had an offer any time these last days if I’d given him the least encouragement,” Wanda boasted.
“He wasn’t lacking any encouragement all week,” Ellie returned.
“Jealous.” Wanda sneered, and even stuck out her tongue, child that she was.
“Next Season
you
might make a push to attract him,” Mrs. Wanderley said to Ellie. “I notice he dined with you last night. Did he say anything of interest at all?”
“No, nothing of interest,” Ellie replied, so grimly that her sister was quite restored to good humor.
“Ellie is not in Claymore’s style. Mama. He prefers beauties.” Wanda smiled.
It had been my intention to offer for you....
Ellie sniffed, and dashed from the room.
“No need to rub it in, love,” Mrs. Wanderley chided gently. “And Ellie really looked very nice last night, though I notice she’s got the hair yanked back again today. Claymore seemed quite taken with her when they were dancing, and he chose her to dine with too.”
“I was dining with George, Mama.”
“Yes, love, but there were plenty of other pretty girls about. And he was paying marked attention to her over dinner. Several times I remarked him smiling at her, only she is such a silly little goose that she wasn’t encouraging him at all. In fact, she got right up in the middle of it and went off somewhere.”