Cry of the Peacock (19 page)

“Then tell him so. Tell him you won’t play it.”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“Certainly it is. If it’s beyond you, if you wish not to do it, don’t do it.”

“And then everyone will be so disappointed.”

Was it like her to be so trivial? He was a little relieved to find it might be so. “Disappointed over a piece of music?”

She only looked at him in answer, and suddenly he understood. It wasn’t music alone she was speaking of. She was speaking of Ruskin, too.

“I want to ask you a question, Miss Gray, and I want you to answer it as honestly as you can.”

She said nothing, only waited for it.

“What is it you want?”

She released a breath of mirthless laughter and was suddenly on the verge of tears. “I want nothing more from your family than—”

“What do you want for yourself, Miss Gray? That is the question I mean to put to you. If you could choose anything, what would you wish for?”

“Oh,” she said very quietly and considered a long time before she spoke again. “It’s been some time since I’ve dared to have any aspirations for myself. All I’ve ever wanted is to be useful.”

“Useful? Useful before happy?”

“If I have a purpose, I have security. If I am needed by someone, I will always have a place.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, and did. “Do you see a place for yourself here?”

She looked toward the window. “I want to,” she said after another long and contemplative silence.

“But?”

“I had hoped to do a great deal for Holdaway’s people. But I think, despite your father’s hope that I might encourage Ruskin to do more, my interference is not really wanted.” She looked at him then. “I do not know how to be simply decorative. It was not what I was brought up to be.”

He had nothing to say to this.

“I suppose,” she said on a sigh, “that I always thought, at some point in my womanhood, I would meet some lovely and humble man, perhaps the vicar in some little church somewhere, and be quietly happy, living our lives for the sake of others and doing our part to better our own little corner of the world—wherever that might happen to be. And yet I do not feel small. I want to do great things. There is a part of me that feels that this should be second nature, this life I’ve now adopted. There is another part of me that fears there is a price to pay and I’ve not yet been told what that price is.”

Still, he was silent, but to this last he had actually been struck speechless. He might tell her what he knew. For here was a question he had an answer to. He understood what the price was. It was Ruskin. It was filling the seat at the table beside him and being and doing all that he wished of her, despite her own desires.

“Why do you look at me like that?” she said and awoke him to the realization he was staring at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Certainly not.”

It was her turn to stare. She did not seem to believe him. He was not sure she should. No longer certain what to do or to say, he arose and turned toward the door. But stopped again midway across the room. He turned back. She too had arisen, and they now stood facing each other.

“We leave for London in a few days,” he said. It was bold, but it was possibly a necessary reminder. “You might find the opportunity, while you are there, to look about you.”

“Look about me? What does that mean,
look about me
?”

“You might see something you like.”

“Like a dress or a hat, do you mean?”

“You might see some
one
you like. Someone more suited to making you happy than my brother can.”

“I never said he could not make me happy.”

“Can he?”

“I– I don’t know.”

“Well then, it can’t hurt, can it?”

“I don’t know,” she said again.

And in all honesty, neither did he know. It might not hurt. But, knowing Ruskin, it possibly might.

“I suppose it would be in your interest to help me to find alternatives,” she said.

“Unless I’m very much mistaken, you have alternatives already.”

“Such as?”

“Your lawyer friend, for one example.”

“Mr. Meredith is my aunt’s lawyer and nearly twice my age. What makes you think–” She stopped suddenly, as if remembering, or perhaps realizing, something she had not before.

“I’ve seen you, don’t forget. I’ve seen you together, not once but twice. I know what it looks like when a man loves a woman.”

Abbie dropped back into her chair.

David watched her color rise, from the collar of her shirt to her cheekbones. “You didn’t know?”

“I think you are mistaken, Mr. Crawford,” she said, growing redder still. “Neither is it any of your business, truly.”

“It wasn’t my intention to pry,” he said, though in truth it was the reason he was here in the first place, to learn what he could, to find out, if he could, what he was to do with the knowledge he had so recently come to possess. Perhaps it was best, after all, to let her make up her mind without the complication of a fortune to influence her. “My intention,” he said, “was merely to help you to realize that you have more on your side than you presently realize. You’ve been offered a choice. It isn’t your only one. And a lesson in patience will do Ruskin good.”

Abbie actually laughed at this.

David turned once more to the door, but with a hand on the knob stopped again. “If I could offer one thing more…”

“If you feel you should.”

“I do,” he said and looked at her. “Trust your instincts. Do not force yourself to anything for the comfort of others. The decisions you make must be for yourself alone.”

“If you say so, Mr. Crawford.”

“And-”

“Yes?”

“Do not allow yourself to be too strongly influenced by your friends, however dear they may be.”

“Do you mean Katherine?” she asked him, plainly confused.

“Possibly.” He was floundering and he knew it.

“That isn’t very generous.”

He dropped his hand from the door’s knob.

“You have not been very attentive to her lately,” Abbie said. “Today, especially.”

“You advise me now?” He had not meant it to come out with such force. But to have the tables so turned…

“I mean only to say she has sorely missed your company. She has spoken nothing of it, but it is plain you hurt her.”

“Perhaps,” he said and hesitated to say more. “Perhaps we both know a little of what it’s like to form our attachments according to expectation.”

She appeared shocked. “Do you mean to say…”

“I don’t know what I mean to say. I think I should not have come at all. Good evening, Miss Gray.”

He opened the door and quit the room. But what now? It was getting late. Surely it was nearly dinnertime. He had neither the stomach to eat, nor the mind to pretend that all was just as it ought to be. It was far from what it ought to be. And why had he said what he did? He had never given it much consideration before. He was in love with Katherine. He always had been. Hadn’t he?

He stopped near the foot of the stairs and turned back. Had he really suggested alternatives? Would such a thing be allowed? Somehow he knew it would not, and yet…

“Where have you been?”

He turned again to find Katherine coming out of the drawing room. She was looking at him petulantly.

“I’ve not seen you this whole day,” she said.

Thus reminded of Abbie’s words, he regretted all the more his own.

“You’ve missed dinner, you know.”

“Have I?” he said and checked his watch. It was much later than he had realized.

“You have. Neither was Abbie at table.”

“She’s in her library, I believe.”

“I think I’ll go to her. Or if you’d rather, I might send Sarah.”

“If I’d rather?” he asked and sounded surprised. Which he was.

“I mean if you would much rather I sat with you. I’ve not seen you…as I said.” She blushed, which was always attractive. On any woman.

“Yes, of course,” he answered, understanding her now. He could be thick at times.

“I’ll just go—”

“Leave her, Katherine.”

“At least let me send Sarah to her.”

“Why, Kate? She can come to no harm in her own library.”

“I know, but…”

“Leave her.” he said and took her arm to stop her from going.

She turned and looked at him, almost frightened, though an equal measure of excited wonderment flashed in her eyes. He had not meant what he’d said in the library. It was expressed in the heat of the moment, and that was all. He drew her to him and was about to plant a kiss on her lips when she pulled away.

“Not just now, David. Not here in the middle of the hall. I’m going to check on Abbie.” She observed his disappointment and, kissed his cheek instead. “Besides,” she said as she mounted the stairs, “you are always messing up my hair.”

A
BBIE HEARD THE knock and did not answer it. What use was a sanctuary if she was always to be disturbed? She waited, instead, to see who opened it. She expected Sarah. Or perhaps Ruskin. She was not sure she wished to see him now. His attentiveness had grown rather oppressive of late, and she wished for a reprieve.

“May I come in?”

Abbie released a sigh and smiled. “Yes, of course, Katherine. Please do.”

“You missed dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m very tired, is all. I needed a little time to myself. No, don’t go. I want your company.”

“I’m glad of that.” Katherine crossed the room to sit down beside her. “Because I want to talk to you very seriously.”

Abbie wondered if perhaps she did not want her company after all.

“You’ve been rather aloof today. Have I done something to offend you?”

“Of course not,” Abbie answered.

“Has Ruskin, then, done something to offend you?”

“Not at all. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s just that sometimes, his attentiveness is a little too much to bear.”

“He has not pressed you for an answer,” Katherine said as if it were an observation she herself had made.

“He has pressed me to consider, and continues to press, if not in word than at least in look and manner.”

“Can you blame him? He’s nearly thirty, after all. He has the weight of his responsibilities on his shoulders and pressing down more firmly each day. He has found someone he can love, who might be the best of companions to him. Who might, any day, fall in love with someone else. Now you are to go to London, and he must stay here.”

“He is not coming?” Abbie said, very surprised. Was this good news or bad? She regretted that she felt a slight twinge of relief.

“Your cottages require supervising. He cannot leave the new project quite yet. You will soon be meeting new people and seeing new things and he rightly wishes to be there to share it all with you.”

“Yes, of course.” In this light, Abbie felt a little sorry for Ruskin. But if she meant to dwell upon her newly formed sympathies further, she was prevented from it by the entrance of Sarah, who took a place in a near corner, and took up the sewing she had brought with her.

“I suppose if it is patience he is wanting, the separation will be good practice for him,” Katherine went on as if Sarah’s presence should have no inhibiting effect at all on their conversation. Abbie was not so sure. “It may be a week or two, after all, before he is able to join you.”

If Katherine was waiting for a response, Abbie had none. This was not a topic she was comfortable discussing with Sarah present.

“I wonder what you will feel to be so long away from him? Will it give you time to miss him, do you think?”

“Katherine, I can’t possibly tell you that.”

Katherine reddened slightly. “Why not?” she asked almost cautiously. As if she feared Abbie’s reply.

Abbie lowered her voice to answer and glanced in Sarah’s direction. Her eyes were on her work, but no doubt her ears were on the conversation. “Because I do not know how I may feel in a week or two. I may miss him. I may not. I think I likely will do, but how can I tell?”

“Of course, my dear,” Katherine said and shook her head self-deprecatingly. “How silly of me to ask you to predict the future. But,” she went on after a moment or two, “I wonder, if it might not give you some time to consider very seriously his intentions. Will it give you time to imagine yourself his wi—”

“Katherine!” Abbie said and clutched her friend’s hand. “Not now,” she whispered and glanced again at Sarah. “Please?”

“Forgive me,” Katherine said, and cleared her throat. When Sarah looked up, Katherine offered the girl a nod, and Sarah answered it as though she understood what was wanted of her. The maid immediately returned her sewing to her basket and arose to quit the room. There was silence for a long moment. Then: “Will it?”

Abbie marveled at the ease with which Katherine had dismissed the girl, and now, having the question posed to her a second time, and no apparent obstacle to her answering remaining, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, if you must know. Of course it will. It’s all I think of, after all. But I cannot be sure of my answer to him until I have tried my success in Society. I owe him that.”

“Your success is guaranteed.”

Abbie laughed. “Now it is you who dares to predict the future.”

“It’s not so hard to do. You go as the adopted daughter of Sir Nicholas and Lady Crawford…”

“Adopted?”

“Well, as nearly like it as may be. They mean to do everything for you, to see that you have all the help and meet with the right influences, that you are introduced to all the right people, that you see and do all the right things.”

“Katherine, that guarantees nothing.”

“And as Ruskin’s acknowledged intended, the matter will brook no argument.”

“It has not been acknowledged by me. If I’ve done it, I’ve done it without knowing. Have I obligated myself to him already?”

“Obligated, Abbie? What a word. What a thought! You are obligated to nothing, save to consider what is most likely to make you happy.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Katherine looked at her very carefully. “Of course I am. Do you think you are without a choice in this matter? Without a choice in the most important decision you will ever make? But of course you will be very happy. How could you not be?”

To this Abbie might have answered, but it seemed the question was merely rhetorical, and Katherine, having had her say, arose.

“I will leave you now. Think about what I have said. Forgive him if he is anxious. Forgive me if I am the same. We are to be sisters, you know, and you cannot blame me for wanting a sister of my own. I never had one before.”

“Of course not, Katherine,” Abbie said and was nevertheless puzzled by her manner.

Katherine offered a parting kiss and left the room, leaving Abbie to stare after her, her mind spinning with the implications of all her friend had said. Clearly it was expected that she would accept Ruskin. Did she truly have a choice? And what would it mean, to Ruskin, to Sir Nicholas and Lady Crawford, if she exercised her choice to refuse him? She felt a sense of dread wash over her at the thought of the consequences if she did. Would that not make her the most ungrateful woman who ever lived? But she would have a reprieve. Of that she was grateful. It would give her some time to think, and some time, perhaps, to prove Ruskin as well. Without the distraction of her presence, with the incentive of joining her again, he might accomplish a great deal. In the meantime, she might school herself to be more grateful to the desires of those who had done so much for her, and to whom she owed everything. It wasn’t her happiness alone, after all, that she must consider. If she were to refuse him, what chances could she hope to have of improving Mariana’s circumstances? None at all! The decision that hung before her was monumental indeed, yet she saw that she must make it—and she must make it soon.

*   *   *

David, after Katherine had left him to find Miss Gray, had resumed his occupation of deep thought. It was fairly impossible to avoid. He wondered how long Katherine would be and when she would return to him. What was her purpose in going to Miss Gray now? Well, he knew that purpose very well, or could guess, it at any rate. He leaned against the console table and gripped the cold marble top with both of his fevered hands. To tell Miss Gray what he knew would not, could not, serve her now. He was certain of it. But with Ruskin pushing full steam, and Katherine aiding him, with the pressure and sense of obligation being mounted against her, there must be something, however small, to even the scales. He tapped his ring against the marble table top. A sound behind him caught his attention—a flicker of movement in the reflection. He turned to see Sarah entering the main hall, peering through the crack in the drawing room door and opening it just slightly. She stood for half a moment, then backed away from the door again.

It opened, and Ruskin stepped without.

“Well?”

“Miss Barnwell says you may go to the library now. Miss Gray is there and has been prepared to receive you.”

Ruskin smiled hungrily, and without further waste of time, he mounted the stairs to the floor above.

David watched for only a moment more. Sarah, in turn, watched Ruskin, and then checked her image in the mirror above the matching console opposite. She met David’s reflection and turned around very suddenly.

“Remind me what it is you do here… Sarah, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered almost obsequiously, which galled him. “I’m Miss Gray’s maid, sir.”

“Not a very loyal one, I take it.”

“I’m only doing as I’m asked, sir.”

“I wonder how effective your services on my brother’s behalf would be if Miss Gray were to be made aware of them.”

She looked up at him, clearly frightened.

“We leave in a week for London. You’ll not be coming with us.”

Her face turned a little red and she stood straighter. “I’m not employed by you, sir,” she said with a cock of one eyebrow.

“No. But upon arriving in London, I’ll assume the role of head of the household. I’ll have that power then. Consequently I’m giving you your notice now.”

She turned to look in the direction Ruskin had gone.

“You may tell him, of course. He may protest, certainly, to my decision, but I doubt very much that my father will approve of the manner in which my brother has employed you. In fact I know he will not. And my mother…”

Sarah swallowed hard and said nothing.

“If you are on that train, all will learn of Ruskin’s duplicity, and of your disloyalty, before we reach the city.”

“You can’t do this, sir,” she said again, though far more humbly. “What will I do?”

“You’ll find other employment, I imagine. It shouldn’t be too hard…someone with your skills.”

“Am I to go without a reference, then?” She was angry, but he didn’t care.

“You might leave an address for me. Should you find the sense to go without speaking a word of your plans, or of our conversation, to anyone, I’ll send a reference that you will not be ashamed of.”

She appeared to consider this. No doubt she was weighing her options. She might have had them, too, were Ruskin to accompany them. But the fact that he would remain while David was the one to watch over the household in Town, gave him a power he would not before have supposed would come in so useful.

Instead of agreeing, she took another step or two nearer and spoke very softly. “A reference of character,” she said. “And twenty pounds.”

“Great day! Who do you think you are?”

“Ten, then. I need something to live on till I find other work, after all.”

David examined her a minute. Would money truly send her away, or would it keep her coming back? He could not be sure, but it was certainly worth ten pounds to him to have her dispensed with. He fingered the notes in his pocket and at last withdrew the requested sum. He handed it over.

She didn’t thank him, only bobbed an insolent curtsey and turned on her heel.

*   *   *

Upon Katherine’s departure, Abbie had returned to her chair, and to her book. She had some vague idea that she was not long to be left alone. She was not mistaken, for it wasn’t more than a quarter of an hour later that there was another knock.

“Come in?”

Ruskin entered, stopped within the doorway, and addressed her with a supplicating look that made her feel both guilty and impatient. She did not like his obsequious manner any more than she did Sarah’s. And why was he here now? Had he come of his own accord, or at Katherine’s persuading? Was that why she had sent Sarah out, after all? To fetch him? Abbie felt her mood darken.

“You are angry with me,” he observed.

He was right, but she was not about to contend with him over a matter she could not prove, and which he would no doubt explain away with a word or ten. “I’m not angry. There are simply times when I prefer my own company to anyone else’s.”

“Katherine told you, I think, that I am not to join you when you leave for London.”

So he was aware that Katherine had spoken to her already. “She did tell me that, yes.”

He looked at her. It seemed he wanted to know, and was resisting asking the question, if she would regret the separation. He won the struggle, and swallowed the question. “I think I will not be long delayed,” he said instead.

“I’m glad of it.”

This appeared to cheer him considerably. Perhaps it was too encouraging. He took a seat beside her.

“I promised I would be patient,” he said, and only after a long pause.

Katherine might not have sent him, but clearly she had counseled with him. Should she be angry or grateful? “You did,” Abbie answered.

“I will be patient. You have my word.”

“I’m grateful for it.”

“It’s just…”

Somehow she had known there would be a qualifier. She did not encourage him to say more. Encouragement with him was like lard in a hot iron skillet; a little went a long way.