Cry of the Peacock (28 page)

“I’m certain, Abbie,” Mariana offered in an attempt to console her sister without giving too much away, “that you are making far more of this than it deserves. Yes, I see that the association might be an embarrassment, but you are no longer there, and I do not see what business of theirs it is how I conduct my life. It’s not as if I’ve lowered myself to do anything worse than helping my fellow beings. Is that not what our mother and father taught us to do? Is that not what you have striven, and are yet striving to do? Tell me, Abbie, how is it different truly?”

“It isn’t. But you can’t believe they will see it as we do. Why would they?”

“If it comes to that, then you must simply persuade them to do it.”

Abbie looked at her as if she were mad.

“It can be done, Abbie. Trust me. In the meantime, however, we must come up with a solution for the Opening Ceremony. We have tonight and all of tomorrow to think of something. Write again. I’ll have it sent by messenger. And while we wait, we can go through your mourning blacks and see if there isn’t some way to reconstruct what you have into something more suitable.”

“That’s just it,” Abbie said. “It wasn’t black, the dress.”

“Not black?” Mariana asked in unveiled confusion. How could it not be black?

“I know it’s early, but Lady Crawford feels I should give up heavy mourning now I’m in London and here to make my place in Society.”

“Give up full mourning? It is plum then, this dress? Or grey? Tell me it is grey?”

Abbie did not answer.

“Tell me, Abbie, what color it was.”

“Brown,” she said.

“That’s not so bad, I suppose…”

“And blue. Mostly it was blue.”

“Blue? Heaven above, Abbie! What are they thinking? They mean for you to enter Society, to prove your worth, and they ask you to defy convention by throwing off mourning when our father has not been gone but eight months?”

“What can I accomplish in full mourning, Mariana? Can I dance and attract dressed in somber black?”

Mariana was stopped short. Did Abbie not know, after all, what was expected of her, or did she hope to achieve something more by this London sojourn? “I don’t know, Abbie,” she said at last. “You tell me.”

“To be honest, Mariana, the gown I chose for myself was one constructed in respectable grey and jet. It would just do for mourning.”

“Cannot you wear that to the Opening Ceremony, then?”

“Well I don’t have it. Lady Crawford would not let me get it. It’s at the dressmaker’s still. Even if we were to send for it now, it is a ball gown, not a walking dress. I need a walking dress for Tuesday.”

“Then we will set to work without delay. Do you think Lady Crawford will mind very much if we have dinner in your room tonight. Can you claim a headache? You look as though you might have one.”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Crying always gives me a headache.”

“I thought as much. We will come up with something, you wait and see. And something you will not be ashamed to be seen in as well. I am glad I brought Becky. She once worked for a seamstress, you know, and is quite capable.”

Abbie appeared a little more hopeful. “I am so very glad you have come.”

“Yes,” Mariana said, studying her sister very seriously. “So am I.”

A
BBIE AWOKE THAT morning feeling that the weight of her cares these last few days had been somewhat lifted. The room was quiet. There was no one else asleep or awake. Only the evidence of their work the evening before was present to prove Mariana had been there at all.

On a table in the corner of the room, two of her best mourning dresses had been laid out. Together, Abbie, Becky and her sister had determined to refashion the skirt so that the typical gored A-line of their aunt’s tailor-made dress might be traded for something a little more stylish. Consequently, more fabric would be required. It was also suggested that Abbie exchange her starched black collar for one of white lace. If they could manage to do so much in the short time they had, Abbie would have something quite suitable, indeed, for tomorrow’s outing.

“Good morning,” Mariana said as she entered the room. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well. You are up early.”

“I’m used to getting up early. Besides, I thought to get a head start. I have sent to the dressmaker’s for the materials we will need. I expect to have them in hand this morning. Are you hungry?”

“I am, actually.”

“Good. So am I. Shall we go down to breakfast? And perhaps by the time we have finished our meal, our materials will have arrived and we can start in earnest.”

*   *   *

Ruskin and his father had managed, at last, to get away. It had been a real struggle to get everything settled and taken care of in time for the Opening Ceremony. Perhaps it had all been a bit rushed, but Ruskin was determined not to miss this event. The recent troubles at home had been a trifle more serious than he had prepared himself to contend with. Arabella had wanted the cottages done by winter. There was no hope of having them completed before spring, and the workers were both angry with the delays and displeased with the prospect of moving at the same time. They had threatened to strike. A few had threatened, even, to burn the new construction down. But at last some necessary, though painful, concessions had been made, and peace had been established once more. Ruskin only prayed it would last long enough for Arabella to agree to marry him. What happened then they would weather together, as mistress and master of Holdaway. He liked the sound of that.

Anxious to return to Town, Ruskin had embarked on the journey feeling optimistic—and certainly deserving—of the joy that awaited him. No doubt Arabella had felt his absence as greatly as he had felt hers. He was anxious to get on with things, to secure her promise, to use this time to his best advantage and to make her truly aware of the benefits to this union. One way or the other, she must be made to understand them.

Upon arriving, however, he was immediately deflated. Having made assurances that his time would be at Arabella’s disposal, he had assumed, and perhaps mistakenly, that her time would be equally at his. He was consequently disappointed to find that circumstances had conspired against him. James was not at University. David was not occupied with Lord Barnwell. Katherine remained at home and obstinately uncommunicative in regards to Arabella’s recent doings. Sarah had gone, and Miss Mariana had come in her place. With so many obstacles before him, he was feeling understandably frustrated.

“Good morning,” he said on finding the sisters just finishing breakfast. “Miss Mariana, welcome.” He hoped very much he sounded convincingly cordial. He did not much feel it.

“Thank you, Mr. Crawford.”

“Arabella, how are you?” He put a little more effort into this question, for he was sincerely interested.

“I’m well, Ruskin,” she said. “How are things at home?”

“You will be glad to know that the construction progresses smoothly.” It was not quite the truth, but she would never know the difference.

“I am glad. I had begun to think you might not come in time.” She smiled up at him over her tea.

Had
she missed him, then?

“The Opening Ceremony is tomorrow.”

“I had not forgotten,” he assured her. “It should be quite a treat for you, and for you, Miss Mariana, to see His Highness, the Prince of Wales. I’m rather looking forward to it, myself. And to sharing the excitement with you.”

“That is kind of you,” Mariana said, watching him and her sister alternately.

“I think I’m looking forward to seeing the train more,” was Arabella’s answer.

Could she be serious? How was it possible for a train to eclipse the Prince of Wales? “Are you?” Ruskin asked, and at the exact moment David entered and asked the same. Why was he still here? He should be with Lord Barnwell already.

“Well, yes,” she said, as much to David as to himself, and actually setting her tea down to speak now his brother had joined them. “I think it’s all very exciting, really. This is a pioneering achievement, don’t you think? And in more ways than one. Who’s to say what may come of it.”

Pioneering! What tripe had David been feeding her in his absence?

David, apparently encouraged—it did not take much to encourage him on such topics—approached to stand at the table. “Are you truly interested in the project, Miss Gray?”

Ruskin too wished to know, for more reasons than one. But they were interrupted before she could give an answer.

“Here you all are!” James said as he entered the room. “Ruskin. I see you have come at last.”

“Yes,” Ruskin answered and did not trouble himself to hide his irritation. “Why is it
you
are here?”

James checked his watch and showed it to Ruskin. “Breakfast,” was his only answer.

“I mean why are you not in Oxford?”

“It’s called a holiday, old man. Didn’t they have those when you were at University?”

“Yes, but we had not so many as you seem keen on taking.”

“Miss Mariana, Miss Gray,” James said, addressing the sisters. “I trust you slept well. Have you everything you need, Miss Mariana?”

He was uncommonly solicitous this morning. There was no need to wonder why.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Mariana answered. “Thank you.”

Now was the time for Ruskin to excuse himself, to invite Arabella out into the garden, or somewhere, anywhere where he could speak to her without his brothers’ interference.

“Have you had an opportunity of seeing the house yet, Miss Mariana? Or the gardens?”

Dash it! James had asked the question before he could get it out. If the sisters could be separated, though…

“No. Not as yet,” Mariana answered. “But I’m afraid we haven’t the time this morning.”

“Haven’t you?” James asked and appeared very nearly as disappointed as Ruskin felt. He waited for her answer, and hoped the inclusive pronoun would not be used again.

“Abbie and I have quite a bit of work to do if we want to be ready for tomorrow. One does not dress for a prince every day, after all.” She turned to James then. “Do you know, Mr. Crawford, if any packages have arrived yet this morning?”

“I do not,” James answered, “but it’s easy enough to find out.”

“Would you be so kind?” she asked of him.

James hesitated. “Am I looking for something in particular, Miss Mariana?”

Mariana considered. “I suppose I
had
better go myself. If you will just show me the way, Mr. Crawford.”

“With pleasure,” he said, and looked quite pleased with himself.

“Excuse me,” Mariana said, addressing the others once more.” I won’t be a moment.”

That was the work half done. Now if he could only get rid of David. He turned to find him in earnest conversation with Arabella.

“Did you mean it?” David had asked of her, “when you said you were looking forward to seeing the train—more so than the Prince of Wales?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Would you believe me if I said I am astonished?”

“It’s not a difficult thing to convince me of. You look it, you know.”

Ruskin, irritated by this unexpected repartee, cleared his throat in the hopes of reintroducing himself into the conversation. Or at least of drawing Arabella’s attention. It had no effect.

“We have invitations, as it turns out, for the luncheon,” David said, with only a glance in Ruskin’s direction. “I’m afraid the day will be more about hobnobbing with engineers and financiers than it will be about the train itself.”

“Quite so,” Ruskin added. “But there is the hope, of course, of meeting the Prince of Wales. No doubt you are aware how great an opportunity it will be.” He omitted the words ‘for you,’ judging them to be unnecessary, but it seemed she suspected it was what he meant after all. Her brow creased for half a moment. She returned her attention to her breakfast, answering them both at once.

“I do hope it won’t all be hobnobbing. I very much wish to see the train. I’ll be quite disappointed if we do not.”

“I suppose we’ll have to see,” David said, “and hope for the best of it.”

“Yes,” she said, and looked up to glance first at David and then at himself.

With her attention upon him, he determined to seize the opportunity. “Arabella,” he said, “would it be possible—”

“It’s come!” Mariana said as she re-entered the room, James following close behind. “If you’ll excuse us, gentleman, we have a long day ahead of us.”

Of course there was nothing to say. Nothing to do but watch as Arabella was led from the room by her sister.

“Why is she here?” Ruskin demanded of James once the ladies were safely beyond hearing.

“She’s come to visit her sister,” James answered in his typically flippant way. “Or had that somehow escaped you? She’s perfectly entitled to do it, you know?”

“Yes, well,” Ruskin answered. “Just see that you don’t encourage her to stay longer than necessary, will you?”

“Tsk, tsk, Ruskin. That’s not very hospitable.”

Ruskin turned away from his brother, inwardly grumbling, and prepared himself a plate. He required Arabella’s undivided attention, and such would be hard to secure with her sister present. And what if Miss Mariana had plans that differed from his own? That was only possible so long as she failed to understand all he meant to do for her sister. Could she be made his ally, though? He was not so sure. It might be worth it to try her, but he suspected, as he had suspected from the beginning, that she would prove more of a hindrance than a help to him in his aims.

Tomorrow, though. He had tomorrow. Certainly he might accomplish a great deal then. With Arabella on his arm, introducing her to Royalty, she impressing all as she no doubt would.

“How are things at home?” James said, breaking into his thoughts and taking a sausage from the warming pan.

“All is resolved, have no fear. But if the laborers weren’t so used to your coddling, it would have been a much simpler matter. They have this idea they deserve more than is rightly theirs.”

“And you put them in their place, did you?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.”

“How long do you think that will last?” James asked and turned to lean against the buffet.

It was Ruskin’s turn to examine James, now. His insolence was unendurable.

“Half-hearted endeavors always betray themselves, you know.”

“I do not understand you.”

“No,” James said, and taking another sausage walked away. “I didn’t think you would.”

*   *   *

Mariana and Abbie, with Becky’ help, worked through the day. With so much to do, the time passed quickly. Lady Crawford took little notice of Abbie’s preoccupation.

Lady Crawford was very skilled at making plans, but she had not always the presence of mind to carry them out quite thoroughly. One day Abbie might be made to bear all manner of instruction, of lecture, of quizzing as to her conduct and manner. The next might find Lady Crawford remembering letters she had forgotten to answer, calls that were necessary to be paid. Mariana’s arrival, it seemed, came on the eve of such an episode. Lady Crawford was too busy to notice that Abbie was occupied in her own right. Or even to notice what that occupation entailed. She would notice tomorrow, no doubt, when Abbie was dressed and prepared for her first outing. With any luck, she might escape scrutiny, for she had her heavy cloak, which was certainly fine enough for any event. It was what she was to wear beneath it that was sure to cause the controversy. If only she could keep that controversy contained within the family circle. Such was the best to be hoped for. But in truth, the longer she could stave off her impending embarrassment, the better.

“What are you thinking of, Abbie?” Mariana asked her. She had never been very good at disguising her worries. Mariana had never been so adept at interpreting them. “Are you worried what Lady Crawford will say?”

“I am, actually.”

“I’m sure you will find a way to stand up for yourself. This is right, you know. Her disliking it doesn’t change that.”

“I know. It’s just that…considering all the expense they have taken—all the money that has been spent, on this trip, on clothes, on the events that have brought us here, even at home with the new cottages—I am conscious of my debt to them.”

Mariana put down her sewing and looked at her. “Your debt to them? Abbie, I know that has always been your fear, that you would feel indebted. It is why, I think, you did not want to accept the invitation to begin with.”