Lady Elizabeth's Comet (15 page)

"My Lord Clanross, it is your lake. Do as you will."

"It may be my lake, but Quillan's waggon will creak by the Dower House dripping mud
on the drive for days. Not to mention the carts of fresh gravel. Does that give you pause?"

"It wouldn't if I thought you should bathe in the lake."

"I'd prefer a dip in the Mediterranean to immersing myself in your papa's ornamental
water, I admit, but I intend to swim in the lake."

I sighed. "Couldn't you charter a yacht at Lynn and sail to the Mediterranean?"

He shuddered. "If you'd witnessed my last sea voyage, you wouldn't make such a callous
suggestion."

I flushed. "I beg your pardon. I didn't think. It must've been dreadful."

"If being seasick from the Bay of Biscay to the Southhampton Road without
intermission is dreadful, it was."

I laughed. "I see I must withdraw my objection. By all means, drain the lake but when
Charles catches you at your paddling please don't let him know I'm an accomplice."

"A bargain. Is the tea cold?"

I refilled his cup. We drank our fresh tea in companionable silence. My mind drifted to
my observations of the night before. It was just possible that I had discovered a comet. I needed
more time to be sure. Would the weather cooperate?

"Bevis tells me I have to offer him my congratulations," Clanross said quietly.

I jumped and blushed scarlet. "I don't want it announced yet, Clanross."

"He swore me to secrecy. Will you forgive the partiality of a friend if I congratulate
you?"

"Thank you," I murmured, wishing other people's reactions were going to be as kind.
"May I ask a favour of you?"

"Of course."

"Will you see to my telescope? It's a remarkable instrument. One of the finest in the
nation. I should dislike to think of it lying neglected."

He regarded me with an odd expression in his grey eyes. "Do you mean to give it
up?"

"I don't know," I said unhappily. "Bevis would feel some sympathy for my continued
studies, I think, but I'm sure Lord Dunarvon would dislike it of all things. He abhors what he
calls eccentricity, especially in females."

Clanross looked as if he wished to say something but kept his silence for a long
moment. Finally, he said lightly, "I'll see to your telescope--and to your sisters, too."

Again I flushed, this time with guilt. I hadn't given a thought to Jean and Maggie. "Shall
you send them to a school?"

"No. Miss Bluestone is a superior teacher. Besides, your sisters like it here, or so they
tell me, and I don't wish to uproot them. I may bring the little girls south, too."

That startled me. "You don't object to uprooting
them?"

He frowned. "There's a nurse, is there not, a Miss McKay..."

"Mackey. She nursed all of stepmama's babies."

"I thought if she came with them, they might not find the change too unhappy. They
should be with Jean and Margaret."

In theory that was a good idea. I did not care for the thought of bevies of brats tearing up
the Dower House, but I didn't wish to figure as the dog in the manger, either. It would be my
Dower House no longer. "You are persistent."

"I beg your pardon, Elizabeth. They're my wards, and I have a duty to them, but the
matter need not be rushed."

"Do you think they're unhappy in Kitty's household?"

"I saw very little of them. I thought you might give me an opinion, for you visited them
at Christmas."

I toyed with my half-empty cup. "They seem happy enough, but I can't approve their
manners, and I fear they're very ignorant. Fanny doesn't yet read though she's turned eight."

He considered that and seemed about to speak again but refrained, looking troubled.

"It's kind of you to concern yourself for them. I daresay Papa didn't mean to stick you
with the lot of them."

He raised his brows. "I was charged in specific terms with their education."

"Good heavens."

He smiled at my surprise. "And I was to consult you."

"Papa put that in the will?" I felt as if, belatedly, my father had given my bluestocking
quirks his approval, and I was dumbfounded and touched. For a moment I could not speak. "You
must have been surprised to find Jean and Maggie running wild."

"I thought perhaps your educational theories were influenced by M. Rousseau."

"Noble Savages?"

"Just so."

I laughed aloud.

Clanross smiled but did not push the matter further. We talked lightly of one thing and
another. Presently I left, feeling much more cheerful, and it did not occur to me until I had eaten
breakfast at home with the girls and written up half my observations that I had forgotten
Charles's injunction. I ought to have scolded Clanross about the laudanum.

One thing did penetrate my self-absorption. Whatever his physical state, Clanross was
chafing at his confinement. Beneath the quiet demeanour, he seethed with impatience. To be off?
I didn't know. The thought was disturbing.

* * * *

I continued my work with the telescope for the next three nights--the weather held that
long--so I did not rejoin the party at once. Bevis called on me in the afternoons and we talked in
a not very convincing way of our plans. He would ask his father's permission to marry me after
Lady Sarah's wedding in May--less than two months off, I realised in a near panic.

Bevis did not drop Cecilia with a thud. That would have been unkind and obvious.
Willoughby would certainly have noticed, and neither of us wanted Willoughby to announce our
betrothal to the World. Besides, Bevis is far too softhearted to hurt any woman's feelings.

By the time the skies clouded over and I rejoined the Brecon dinners, however, Charles
was in the ascendant with Cecilia, Willoughby was well-nigh dead of boredom, and Alice, who
is not stupid however hard she may try to appear so, had noticed Bevis's change of tactics. It was
only a matter of time before her curiosity overcame her and she sought me out for a little private
chat. I was glad she still slept at Brecon.

Much of the routine of the house party in those weeks excluded Clanross. I knew he
worked on estate matters every morning and that he had a wide correspondence to deal with, but
it did not occur to me that he meant to do anything active with his time. The morning he took the
carriage to Chacton I was startled and annoyed. He was bound to suffer from the effects of
jolting over bad roads. I scolded Bevis for it before the carriage was out of sight, and he laughed
and teazed me about my nursemaid propensities.

When he saw I was truly upset, he said seriously, "It's a good sign, you know."

"Charles says..."

"Oh, Wharton." Bevis dismissed Charles's expertise airily.

"Clanross is Charles's patient."

Bevis just shrugged.

That evening, though, even Bevis could see that Clanross's venture had been ill-advised.
Clanross did not come down to dinner. The ladies had withdrawn and the gentlemen rejoined us
before Clanross put in an appearance.

Willoughby was teaching Alice a new variation of Patience, with myself as advisor.
When Clanross drifted over from the spinet, at which Bevis and Cecilia were occupied sorting
music, Willoughby looked up at him irritably.

"For heaven's sake, Clanross, stop towering over us."

"Sorry." He sat in stages, as he had done weeks earlier. It was clear he was stiff and in
pain, and I was too exasperated to hold my tongue.

"I trust Mr. Chacton is grateful for your condescension."

"We had business."

"He could have come here."

"My word, yes," Willoughby interjected, scenting a quarrel. "Toasts! Speeches! Debits
and credits! How could you deprive us?"

Clanross gave a wry grin. "It went against the grain." He straightened incautiously and
winced.

Alice fluttered, distressed. "Are you in pain, my lord?"

"Good God, of course he is," I said, disgusted. "Dose yourself with laudanum, sir, and
go to bed."

"I thank you, no."

"No to bed or laudanum?" Willoughby asked brightly.

"Both."

"Clanross does not indulge himself with opiates." I was as incautious as I was cross.

"How too stoic," Willoughby exclaimed and with no more encouragement from anyone
was off and running with a comprehensive repertoire of witty anecdotes, all showing how very
frequently and with what droll results those in the first circles ate, drank, or smoked opium.

Clanross was not amused. His grim silence finally penetrated even Willoughby's
self-absorption, and Willoughby shifted to some of his staler reminiscences.

Brecon and Cecilia left the spinet and rejoined us and the worst was over, but Clanross
remained silent and withdrawn. I regretted my thoughtless introduction of the topic. I should
have to apologise. Tomorrow, I told myself. After all, I had promised Charles to try a little
persuasion, and putting off unpleasant tasks forever was not in my style.

Accordingly, I excused myself next morning from the ritual ride and walked up the long
drive to Brecon. It was a grey, damp day, rather dark. The others would not be riding long.

When I asked for Clanross, Jenkins looked flustered.

"Is he in the estate room?"

"No, my lady. His lordship has gone for a walk."

"A walk?"

Jenkins looked unhappy. "I did think it injudicious, my lady, but when I attempted to
remonstrate, pointing out that the weather is chill, his lordship cut me off quite sharp. Most
unlike him, if I may say so."

"Oh, dear, then he's still in a pet. Never mind, Jenkins, it's my fault. Which direction did
he take?"

"He's in the formal garden, my lady. Do you think..."

"That I ought to intrude? Yes, and you needn't show me out. I know the way."

He assented, resigned, and I slipped out the French doors of the breakfast room to the
long terrace that overlooks the formal gardens Capability Brown is reputed to have laid out for
my grandmother.

As nothing so vulgar as crocuses or daffodils was allowed in the chaste precincts, the
stiff raised rosebeds looked stark as winter, and the contorted yews, which lesser gardeners had
clipped unimaginatively into urns and pillars, were downright gloomy. I set off after my prey,
bending against the damp wind.

He was sitting on the rim of the stilled fountain.

"Clanross."

He started and turned his head.

"Please don't rise. I merely wish to speak with you for a moment."

He considered me without expression. "How may I serve you, Lady Elizabeth?"

"Oh dear, you are angry."

He made no reply.

"I came to beg your pardon."

He looked away. "Very well, you have it."

"That's not very gracious," I said lightly. "I confess I was maladroit, but I meant no
harm."

He fiddled with his stick, digging at the flags. "I didn't suppose you did."

I sighed. "I know you have an irrational aversion to laudanum, however, and I ought not
to have made Willoughby a present of it. I'm sorry."

When he did not speak I went on, carefully reasonable, "At the same time I can't help
thinking you would be wise to use the laudanum, Clanross. You are slowing your recovery."

"Why can't you let well alone?"

I stared. He was not rude as a rule. "Because Charles Wharton asked me to try if I could
persuade you to use it. I think he's right."

"He's a damned fool."

"It's not Charles who is the fool."

He started to reply, then thought better of it and remained silent, mouth set.

"If it's nightmares..."

"I have a fine assortment of nightmares. I think I need not retail them for your
delectation."

My cheeks went hot. He had spoken quietly but with great bitterness. "I have no reason
to wish you ill."

"Have you not?" His bleak grey gaze met mine steadily.

"I collect you refer to your succession to my father's honours." I was beginning to be
vexed. I bit my lip. "The manner of my father's death shocked us all. But if you fancy I feel some
resentment now, you're all about in your head. It's absurd."

"That I'm unreasonable or that a man with eight flourishing offspring should be
succeeded by a stranger?"

"What does that signify? We're all females." I glared at him.

He glared back. "Females have succeeded their fathers in our history and done rather
well. Queen Elizabeth, for an instance. Your namesake."

"Or Bess of Hardwicke," I shot back, acid.

His mouth twitched and I had to smile myself. Not exactly a genteel example. Besides,
she gained power through her husbands, not her father.

"What say you to Bloody Mary?" I sat beside him on the damp stone rim of the fountain.
"I concede a certain vague resentment. I daresay you feel a twinge or two of resentment yourself
at being precipitated into the midst of a gaggle of strange females, always telling you to mind
your manners and drink your medicine. Shall I strive for a less nanny-like approach in
future?"

"I'd appreciate your restraint."

"In the meanwhile, drink your medicine."

He did not reply at once but traced the pattern of the near flags over with his stick. At
last he said wearily, "There's an excellent reason why I cannot use laudanum, Elizabeth. I have
an addiction for it."

"Oh, dear God." I turned cold. A good many things came clear at once. "But Charles
must know..."

"Yes." His stick scraped on the stones. "He's a very good surgeon and, like most
surgeons, almost completely without imagination. He considers withdrawal from the laudanum
the lesser of two evils. I can't agree."

"Is it so dreadful?"

He did not reply.

I swallowed, thinking of his slow recovery in the early weeks. "Then Bevis..."

"It's fortunate he came when he did."

I fell silent as I tried to rearrange my perception of what had happened in December. If
Charles were unimaginative, what might be said of me? Laudanum is quite a common remedy.
Some of stepmama's cronies drank gallons of it--for their nerves, they said. But I had also heard
of the fate of opium eaters. I did not like my thoughts at all. "How did it happen?"