Lady Elizabeth's Comet (20 page)

"Is she happy?"

"In alt," Aunt said gloomily. "Sickening. I daresay she'll temper her high flights
eventually."

"And Willoughby?"

"Told him never to darken my doorstep." She snorted again but it was an indulgent
snort. I felt sure Willoughby would soon be back in her good graces.

By the time she had taken her nuncheon with us, I was on edge. Clearly, she thought
Maggie and Jean pert, Alice dull, and Miss Bluestone blue. I bundled her back in her barouche as
soon as courtesy allowed.

"I intend you to come with me, niece." Pug yipped.

I glanced wildly about but there was no help in sight. "Where?"

Aunt snorted. "Brecon, witling. I mean to call on Clanross."

Muttering maledictions, I scrambled in beside her. Pug nipped my ankle.

At Aunt's command the equipage--a newfangled vehicle, lavishly upholstered and
sprung--swung up along the carriageway.

"Tell me about Clanross."

"Surely Cecilia has already done so."

She clucked impatiently. "Cecilia's head is in the clouds. Can't get a sensible word out of
the gel. I want your view, miss. Treat you civil?"

Aunt Whitby always reduced me to the stammering incoherence of a ten-year-old.

"Yes, of course. Very civil." I glanced even more wildly about and spotted Clanross
walking up from the lake to Brecon. "See for yourself, Aunt. There he is."

"Where?" She peered out, roaring to her coachman to stop.

I suppressed a nervous giggle. Clanross had halted and stood for a moment irresolute.
Probably he was wondering if he could effect an escape. With a slight shrug, he apparently made
up his mind to face the musick and strolled over.

We watched him in silence. I surmised he had just come from the lake, for he was
coatless, his shirt stuck to his chest in damp patches, and his hair wasn't dry. As he came closer,
Aunt fixed her eyeglass on him and made an appreciative noise.

When he reached us she drew herself up. "Well, Clanross?"

He contrived a polite bow. "Lady Whitby. Inspecting the outposts? Hullo,
Elizabeth."

I cast him a beseeching and explanatory look. Very eloquent.

"In my day," Aunt pronounced, "a gentleman did not receive ladies in his shirtsleeves,"
but she didn't really sound displeased.

He smiled. "You've caught me out, ma'am. I'd best amend matters. Perhaps you'll direct
Jenkins to make her ladyship comfortable, Elizabeth." He did not await further discussion but
bowed again and strode off, disappearing at last into the east wing.

"Well!" Aunt settled back. Incredibly, she was smiling.

We descended before the grand entrance, I following in her train like a dog trailing a
regimental band.

Aunt viewed Brecon narrowly outside and in, suspicious of change. As there was none,
beyond a screen or two and a branch of blossoms someone had stuck in a vase in the
withdrawing room, she settled herself almost without comment in the most comfortable chair and
proceeded to interrogate the quavering Jenkins on his duties, comfort, happiness, and the state of
his soul. Finally, she allowed him to go about his business.

"Well, niece, does your father's successor meet with your approbation?" Her beady eyes
bored into mine.

I leashed my temper. "He'll do. I daresay Willoughby's account of this business of
Cecilia and Charles was highly coloured. Clanross's conduct to Willoughby was
unexceptionable."

"The boy is at all times a prey to envy. In this case, you'll allow he has reason."

I did not allow it but closed my lips and refused to be drawn. I was surprised she would
admit Willoughby's jealousy.

She said, mildly for her, "I met Clanross at your sister Anne's last autumn. I thought him
wooden but civil."

"He was ill."

"So it would seem. Nursed him yourself, eh?"

"Who told you?"

"It's common gossip, and Cecilia confirmed it. She's a featherwit, but not, I think, a
liar."

Fortunately, Jenkins entered with minions bearing the tray for him. I was grateful that
Sims was lying low. Aunt would not understand Sims. We did not require refreshment, having
just tucked into a substantial nuncheon, but Aunt amused herself selecting cook's best efforts for
her obnoxious pug. I drank an unwanted cup of tea and watched the wee darling's antics with
distaste. Aunt was quite at home.

Presently Clanross appeared, properly clad in frock coat, pantaloons, and hessians, and
Aunt drew herself up for the fray.

"You look well, Lady Whitby," he ventured cautiously.

"I expect to last forever. I could not have said the same for you, sir, last time I saw you. I
perceive you are greatly improved. Indeed, you have the look of your father. I did not see the
resemblance before."

"Scarcely a flattering comparison." His tone was cool.

"Still rankles, does it? He was a scoundrel, true enough, but a well-looking man. One of
my flirts. Of course poor Henry went off sadly at the end." Unexpectedly Aunt cackled. "I shall
never forget my brother Clanross's outrage when he found you had run off to America."

I gasped.

Clanross raised his brows at her. "It seemed the safest course."

"Turned violent, did he?"

"In his cups. He was not of a domestic habit."

Aunt cackled again and dropped a morsel into pug's slavering jaws. "My brother could
not well blame you for running off, but he thought you might have chosen a less remote
haven."

At that Clanross grinned. "I meant to become a pirate." Fortunately, neither of them
required my comment for I was struck dumb with astonishment.

"And you failed of your object?" Aunt's eyes did not precisely twinkle but I could see
she was amused.

"Alas, there are few eleven-year-old pirates in Halifax."

Aunt cackled.

I was horrified. Eleven! "How did you live?" I burst out.

"After a month or so knocking about the waterfront, I was given work as a stable boy
with a Scots farmer who sold officers' remounts." Clanross cocked an eyebrow at me. "I learnt
something of the army and a great deal about horses."

"I daresay that didn't suit Papa's pride."

"I was told he found my conduct unfilial, ungentlemanly, and inexplicable."

My gaping astonishment at this whole set of exchanges must have been obvious.

Clanross looked at me. "It is borne upon me that Lady Elizabeth has been kept in the
dark about my wicked past. I always fancied I'd been held up in the nursery as a Horrible
Example. Such is vanity."

"If you dare tell Jean and Maggie..." I began, rather grim, because in truth I was
shocked.

Incredibly, Aunt rose to his defence. "Pho! A splendid adventure. I daresay you thrived
on it, eh, Clanross?"

"I grew a foot," Clanross admitted. "However, I shall certainly not tell the twins. They
might not have my luck."

"Different for gels," Aunt said with real regret. "I daresay you didn't want to come back,
but all's well that ends well. M'brother was quite right to send for you."

"I came willingly enough, ma'am--once Parson Freeman, whom Lord Clanross sent after
me, assured me my esteemed parent was dead. There are limits to the delights of shovelling
muck."

She gave a crack of laughter and crumbled another bit of cake on the carpet for dear
pug.

I was still prey to my astonishment, not the least of which was Aunt's obvious approval
of Clanross's exploit. I sat like a stock.

"Well, now," said my outrageous kinswoman, "I doubt you wonder what brings me to
you, Clanross."

"Impertinent curiosity," I muttered inaudibly.

Clanross waited.

"I came to discuss your marriage."

"Do you mean Miss Gore's marriage?"

She popped another bit in pug's fat face. "No. Yours."

"I'm not conscious of having made any such commitment."

"I trust not."

"I came very close in Freneda," he said helpfully. His eyes lit with unholy amusement.
"She ran off with a commissary who made her a better offer."

Aunt ignored that. "Be guided by me. You need a lady who won't be overset by her high
station, and I daresay you don't number many such amongst your acquaintance. Look at Her
Grace of Wellington."

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

She ignored that also. "Disastrous, poor woman. Shortsighted, timid, no idea of dressing
as a duchess ought, no conversation. A lady, of course, but sadly provincial. As ambassadress
she's hopeless. No wonder the duke looks elsewhere."

Clanross kept a straight face with visible effort. "It's a shade unlikely that I'll be called
upon to serve as ambassador to France, Lady Whitby."

"Don't be literal-minded. You need a wife bred to move in the first circles."

"Like Cecilia Conway-Gore," he murmured, dulcet.

"Nonsense. A beautiful ninnyhammer."

Clanross and I both stared.

She regarded us with the unwinking eye of a bird. "Think I'm an old fool, don't you?
Well, I ain't. You're five-or six-and-thirty, I collect, Clanross. High time you was wed, and to
someone suitable--like Elizabeth. I daresay you've compromised her as is."

Clanross did not look at me, which was fortunate. I believe I went purple with rage. He
said merely, "If Lady Elizabeth judges an offer necessary, she has it, of course. I'd be surprised if
she accepted."

"Nothing on earth would compel me to marry for such a nonsensical reason." I kept my
voice below a screech with effort. "And if you bully me, Aunt, I'll--I'll join the navy."

"Elizabeth!"

"I shall. I'll ride nude through the streets of Chacton. No, perhaps not. But I swear I'll
create such a scandal as has never before been recorded in Conway annals."

"Oh, will you, miss?"

"I mean what I say."

"Here," Clanross said plaintively, "we were discussing my marriage, not Lady
Elizabeth's."

I subsided, fuming.

"What other candidates had you in mind, ma'am? I knew some very pretty girls in St.
Jean de Luz."

She swelled dangerously, and pug looked downright vicious. "I warn you both I will not
be made mock of."

Clanross said pacifically, "Indeed, ma'am, I mean to marry. As you say, it's my duty if
Gore won't. I'll be sure to consult you. Do you go up to Town for Lady Sarah Tyrell's wedding?
I'd be glad to escort you, and you could, er, survey the possibilities for me then."

She brightened. "There is Lady Barbara."

"Too young." Clanross looked regretful, as well he might. Bab Tyrell is a famous
beauty.

"Very true," said my aunt, mollified. "You won't be wanting a green girl. Should you
object to a widow? The Tyrell wedding, eh? That's not a bad plan, Clanross. A fortnight from
now, I believe. Yes, yes, I accept your escort. Mind, I travel by easy stages."

"Then we're in accord, ma'am. So do I."

"You may ride with me, Elizabeth," Aunt said graciously.

"I thank you, Aunt, but Alice comes, too, and we'd crowd you unduly. Lord Bevis has
promised us his escort."

"Bevis, eh?" Her sharp eyes glinted, but she did not take me up. I believe she was too
pleased with herself.

Poor Clanross. He really did not deserve such a fate. Of course, he need not be subjected
to pug on the journey, for he could ride beside the carriage. Still, to distract Aunt from savaging
me was a noble sacrifice on his part, and I meant to tell him so as soon as I freed myself of
Aunt's company.

That was less difficult than I anticipated. She wanted to reach home before her rather
early dinner hour, so she made her
adieux
to Clanross, swept out to the barouche, pug in
tow, and parted from me abruptly at the Dower House door.

"Good afternoon, niece." She accepted my peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry to find you still
so set against marriage. You'll come to your senses too late, mark my words. However, I shall
say no more on that head, for I see that my words are wasted."

"I'm sorry to displease you, ma'am."

"Nonsense. You're not in the least sorry, so don't say so. You've more than your share of
the Conway spirit, my dear, though in a maddeningly perverse form. I approve Clanross.
Clanross will Do. There is one thing to be said for the army. It breeds a sense of duty."

"He has more interesting qualities than that. Intelligence, for an instance."

"I know, I know. How you do fire up. Are you sure you want to throw this fish away?
He'd marry you like a shot, niece, and a good thing for both of you."

"Upon my word..."

She cackled at my impotent fury and called to her coachman to drive off.

I found Clanross already in riding clothes in the Brecon stables. "You look ruffled." He
smiled at me, and I felt some relief that he didn't seem to blame me for Aunt's impertinences.
"Come for a ride."

"Clanross, I'm sorry. Aunt is intolerable, and she grows worse every year. I did try to
head her off."

"I see why Jean and Maggie dislike the pug," he said mildly. "Go put on your habit, and
I'll direct your groom to saddle Josephine. I need a good run, and I'll wager you do, too."

I gave a shaky laugh. "Do you ride off your ill-temper? Hard on your cattle. Very well,
Clanross, I'm with you." It did not occur to me until much later that the ill-temper was all
mine.

We galloped the fidgets out of our mounts, then rode around Brecon widdershins,
trotting at first, an exercise Clanross had practiced, teeth gritted, for ten minutes twice a day. He
usually did it alone. So he could swear freely, he said. Now he seemed to deal with it almost as a
matter of course. When we dropped to a walk I congratulated him.

He shrugged. "It marches, as the French say."

It struck me that the weeks of baby exercises must have galled him. Speaking of gall.
"Don't you resent Aunt Whitby arranging your life for you?" I asked, curious.

"She won't."

"Then you don't mean to wed?"

He shrugged again. "I'll have to, unless you can persuade Gore where his duty lies."