Cry of the Peacock (20 page)

“I am anxious for you in Town.”

“You needn’t be. I’m not a stranger to London.”

“You are a stranger to my part of it. Forgive me.”

Right as he was, she was not pleased by the reminder.

“It’s just that I wish it were I who was to introduce you.”

“Under the circumstances that might not be the best thing.”

“Why not?”

“If you were to encourage Society to presume an understanding between us, and if the connection should prove to cause you embarrassment…”

“It won’t. It can’t”

“You don’t know that. And it is banking on a certainty that I do not yet have, and on an understanding that is not yet established.”

He looked at his hands, clasped before him. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he chewed on the words he wished to say. At last he looked to her, prepared to speak. He opened his mouth. She stopped him short.

“Good night, Ruskin,” she said and did not rise from her place.

He closed his mouth again. He stood. Looked at the door, looked back to her and yet remained. Did he simply not know how to relent? If he would not go, then she would. She had not lied when she had said she was very tired. She did not wish to be rude, to treat him unkindly or ungratefully. She arose, touched his arm, and once again wished him goodnight.

He placed his hand on hers, held it there as he looked at her hand in his. At last he looked up at her. “Will we speak again before you go?”

“You may wish me goodbye and a safe journey,” she said with a smile she hoped was patient enough. “You may speak to me of the estate and the progress on the construction, how the workers do and how your acquaintances with them improve. Of course you may write in a similar vein. But on any other matter you will have to wait until we meet again in London.”

“In London, then,” he said with a soberness that implied a promise Abbie had not intended to make.

She left him to retire to her own room, where she was met by a sober and reticent Sarah. Abbie only took a passing notice of her maid’s manner. She was too full of her own thoughts to consider much else. And those thoughts were with her through the night, fading slightly with late and restless sleep, and assailing her anew upon her waking the next morning. How was she ever to make such a decision as that which faced her now? She would, she must make it. Only not just yet. She had week or two in London before Ruskin would join her there. She might make the most of that.

T
HE PORTMANTEAU SAT on the floor beside David’s bed. He still had the problem before him of returning its contents to the study. He rubbed his face with one hand.

So he was not going to tell her. He was going to pretend, for all intents and purposes, that he knew nothing. He was going to let her decide on her own what she wanted to do, and he was going to trust that, whatever she should decide, she would be granted the privilege to do it. If only he understood the motivation behind his father’s desire to keep this secret, or what the revelation of it would mean to her. He needed someone to guide him. But there was no one to turn to in this.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He arose and opened it to find his father’s valet.

“Sir Nicholas wishes to speak with you, sir.”

David’s blood ran a little cold at the pronouncement. Had his investigatory efforts been discovered already? Or perhaps his interference with the management—or mismanagement—of the household staff?

“Sir?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, Osgood. I’ll be there presently.”

“Very good, sir.”

*   *   *

“You wished to see me, sir?”

“Ah, there you are,” Sir Nicholas said to him upon his arrival in the study. “Sit, won’t you?”

David did as he was bid, but it was several minutes before his father cleared his throat to speak.

“What exactly are your plans, David?”

“Plans?”

“Yes. Plans. What do you have in mind to do with yourself?”

“Well, if you want to know—”

“Look here,” Sir Nicholas said, his mood suddenly as dark as the sky outside. “I’ve had a letter from Lord Barnwell.” He raised the object up as if to provide the proof. “He’s displeased with your apparent indecision. And frankly, so am I.”

“I didn’t know he was in such a hurry for an answer.”

“It’s not the position alone. What of your engagement? When do you mean to make it official?”

David was not prepared for this. The prospect of having his misgivings regarding his personal life brought out into the open was a small comfort in contrast to the reasons he’d thought he’d been summoned. The faint roll of thunder could be heard. He rose from his chair to look out upon the approaching storm.

“This marriage has been in the making since you were children,” his father continued. “A brilliant career is before you. Have you no sense of pride or duty?”

“I’ve told you before, sir. I’ve no mind for politics. I was perfectly happy working in the city, managing our financial interests there.”

“Were you? With all your complaints I’d have thought it a trial, indeed.”

David turned back to his father. He might have accused him of never listening to his counsel. Only he had, it seemed, even if it was for the benefit of another. Still, an answer was wanted. “Well it’s a far sight better than smarming my way through the drawing rooms of the political elite, ingratiating myself with those whom I would otherwise have little interest in pursuing an acquaintance. Neither am I certain I agree with all of Lord Barnwell’s ideologies. Do you know he would have us go back to the Sudan?”

“It may well come to that, regardless. If we want our trade routes free to—”

“That’s not the point. How do I represent someone whose philosophies differ so greatly from my own?”

“Think of it as a stepping stone to your own social and political ambitions.”

“You’re not listening. I have no ambitions, social or political, and neither am I likely to form them.”

“I asked you before, you did not answer: Have you other plans?”

“If I were at liberty to pursue my own course, do you mean?”

Sir Nicholas answered with a flick of his eyebrows. It was a warning, an indication to proceed cautiously.

“I want to go back to Germany. Or France. Perhaps even America, where the viability of the automobile has been proved, and—”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I don’t see why not. So far my instincts have led me well. They haven’t served you too poorly either,” he added with a glance in the direction of the cabinet which held, or had once, the ledger.

“You consider this a practical venture, do you?”

“With the way things are progressing with combustion engines, and even electricity, yes, I do.”

Silence, while lightning lit the room.

“Have you considered how your wife will manage, so far away from familiar society, all her friends and family thousands of miles away? And to live amongst foreigners!”

To him all these things were part of the appeal. What they would be to Katherine was another matter entirely. What would they be to another?

Lightning again, and his thoughts flashed similarly. The image was suddenly before him of Miss Gray standing at her aunt’s gate, pale and grieving and in want of saving, a woman whose life had been turned upside down by tragedy and loss, and then, once more, by miraculous good fortune she had not yet determined what to make of. He blinked this away, but it was immediately followed by another, this time of she in her role as heroine in the Summerson business, benevolently condescending and doing whatever she could, whatever the consequence, for someone in need. Then another:  A bright star in the making, an heiress unaware, the unassuming shareholder of a railway company that was nothing less than revolutionary, and would prove to be, David was absolutely certain of it, a crashing success.

But these thoughts were not for him to dwell upon. Quickly he shoved them into the back recesses of his mind, but the impression had been as thunder, and it resonated on.

“It’s ridiculous!” Sir Nicholas bellowed in the near darkness. “All this idle dreaming, this aimless procrastination…” His father stopped and studied him a moment. “You will announce your engagement at the Christmas ball. And with any luck, Ruskin will do the same.”

David was stunned with this. For himself, yes, he felt the noose tightening. But the chair had been kicked out from under him with this last.

“So soon?”

“And you will help it along, if you can.”

“Well, I can’t. I won’t.”

“You disapprove, still. I would have thought you’d have changed your mind by now.” Sir Nicholas tilted his head backward, as if he meant to indicate something behind him. The chest, perhaps? Great day! What had he done?

“I haven’t changed my mind. Not, at least, as it pertains to the means by which Miss Gray is presently being pressed, and from all sides, it seems, to accept Ruskin whether she wishes to do it or not.”

“She doesn’t yet know what’s best for her. She will soon enough.”

David approached the desk. “Is it absolutely necessary she marry Ruskin? Is there not another way?”

“You’re not thinking of James, I hope. Nor yourself. Good God, David! You’re not, are you?”

“Certainly not!” He swallowed hard, and when at last he found his voice again, he went on. “I only want to know why it’s so important she marry him. If the family wishes to help her, must they do it by forcing her into something she is clearly reluctant to commit to?”

“That’s where you can help.”

“What? How?”

“If you were to introduce her, and very delicately, to the benefits incumbent upon her acceptance of Ruskin’s offer…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you damn well do! This Opening Ceremony you’re so keen on attending is what’s taking us from the estate before we’re quite prepared to leave it. But I agreed because I thought it might be a good opportunity to make Miss Gray acquainted with her assets, and to form an interest in them. Some things have come up…”

“Things?”

“A few rough edges in the plans. We’ll sort them out easily enough. With a little luck we’ll be in London in time for the ceremony, but if we are not…well, you are just the man to explain to her what the success of this railway might mean.”

David was silent. Yes, he was possibly the man for the job, but it was hardly one he welcomed. And yet…hadn’t she a right to know? Might she be encouraged to fight for what was hers, independent of Ruskin? If only he knew that such was possible. If only he had someone to talk to. Dash it! This business grew more complicated every minute.

“Will you?”

“Certainly you don’t wish for me to explain to her precisely what it is she stands to gain? Or to lose?”

“No. No, of course not. Though such might prove necessary, in time.”

“If she refuses it outright, as her mother once did?”

Sir Nicholas’ face turned a frightening shade of red. “She wouldn’t be such a fool!” he spat. “She won’t be, either! I’ll see to it, if I must.”

“Do you mean to say you are prepared to force her hand?” A hint of despair seeped into the question. He regretted it, but it could not be helped.

“I doubt very much it will come to that. It hardly bears thinking upon. Of course she’ll accept him.”

“Then for heaven’s sake, give her the opportunity to do it, will you? You’re risking it all simply by pushing her too hard. Just…”

“What?”

He understood his father’s motivation now. It was not for a desire to see Miss Gray happy. It was to preserve what was his, and what he feared to lose. “If he could just be persuaded to exercise some patience,” David offered, resuming that calm control that had once been his to call upon at will. “If he would only treat her as a woman to be adored rather than some object to be acquired…” What was he saying? He did not want Ruskin to succeed. But neither did he wish to see her forced into something against her will. That was so much worse. It was unthinkable!

“You might speak to him.”

“You don’t really think he’ll listen to me, do you?” David answered, thoroughly appalled by the idea of playing his father’s liaison in this sordid endeavour.

“You’re soon to be married. You know how to go about it. You know what women like, what they want and expect.”

“As my own marriage has been all but arranged, I can’t say as I do. We were both willing to be led is the only difference. Miss Gray might be led, but I haven’t the first idea how it might be done. She won’t be pushed though, that’s for certain.” Done with the conversation, he crossed to the door.

“One more thing.”

David stopped and turned to his father.

“You will accept Lord Barnwell’s offer.”

“Sir, I—”

“You will try it, do you hear me? You cannot know that it does not fit until you try it on for size.”

David didn’t answer. There was little point.

“You will try it. That’s all I’m asking.”

“And if I find it doesn’t fit…”

“Yes, yes, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but by one means or another you will announce your engagement come December, do you understand?”

David answered with a nod and was at last allowed to quit the room.

*   *   *

Sir Nicholas was still chafing half an hour later, when he summoned Abbie to his study. She would be leaving for London soon and he was no more certain of her willingness to adhere to their plans now than he had ever been.

“Sit down, won’t you, my dear,” he said to her as she entered.

“Is something the matter, sir?”

“No, no,” he said and tried to ease himself into a manner more conciliatory. “Not at all. I only wanted a word with you before you are off. Particularly as I’ll not be able to accompany you.”

“No, I had heard that, sir. I’m sorry. You will be missed.”

“Ruskin, of course, will have to remain as well.”

“So I understand. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Are you?”

She appeared puzzled by the question, and yet she did not seem to be feeling very much the impending separation. “Of course I am, sir,” she said.

He studied her a moment, and then, resuming his seat, he proceeded with his purpose. “You are aware of Ruskin’s intentions toward you. He has made them clear, I believe.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered him, and looked a little pale. “He has.”

“You are aware, I have no doubt, of the honor it is to you?”

Suddenly she was flush with color. “I am, sir. Of course I am. But what I do not understand is why it should be paid to me at all.”

Was this source of her reluctance, then? An over-developed sense of propriety? “Why shouldn’t he come to admire you? You are a beautiful young woman, with much to recommend you. It is only natural that he should recognize your qualities for what they are. It is only natural that he should wish to reward you for the happiness you give him. Why should he not?”

“Because he is your eldest son, and heir to the estate. His marriage to a woman of high social standing, of established family and perhaps some fortune should be your greatest desire for him.”

“There are qualities besides money alone, you know. I want my son to be happy. At present he is. If you disappoint him…”

She paled again.