Lady Elizabeth's Comet (22 page)

I tried to imagine myself, with Clanross substituting for Papa in Dunarvon's role.
Definitely, I would not be wed in St. George's, Hanover Square. A quiet ceremony in remote
Lincolnshire. Or Lancashire. I would not be able to muster so many bridesmaids as Sarah Tyrell.
My friends and kin were all matrons, excepting Cecilia Conway-Gore and the twins. Though I
hope I am not vain, I had no intention of marrying in Cecilia's gorgeous shade. Perhaps Bevis
and I should wed over the anvil at Gretna Green.

As the unnerving words of the ceremony began, it struck me as comic that I should be
busily planning to exclude Cecilia from my wedding party and at the same time searching for
ways to escape matrimony altogether. I felt an hysterical giggle rise in my throat and choked it
back, biting my lip hard. My prayer book slipped to the floor. Clanross retrieved it smoothly and
returned it to me opened to the right page.

"Dearly beloved...this man and this woman...which is a state ." It was the pattern card of
weddings. Lady Dunarvon cried and so did half the ladies in the church, including Aunt Whitby.
My jaw ached from gritting my teeth.

Were they weeping for joy or because they were watching yet another virgin sacrificed
on the altar of Property and Family? Sarah Tyrell did not weep. She looked self-satisfied. It was
poor George, the groom, who looked the sacrificial goat.

In the aftermath I had time to speak with Clanross. "You and Aunt cut it rather fine. Did
you lose a wheel on the road?"

"Worse. Pug escaped."

"Wonderful!"

"Don't get your hopes up. She--did you know the beast was female?--she was found in
the embraces of a distinctly underbred partner. Very unsettling."

"Did you find her?"

He raised his brows. "I? I keep my hands clean. Sims deals with all the criminal
conversations in the firm."

I suppressed a giggle. Aunt was waiting for Clanross to hand her out. We followed in
her train. By the time Anne, Alice, Featherstonehaugh, and I reached the reception my mood had
lightened and I began almost to enjoy myself.

I knew that I looked very well--handsomer at any rate than several of my matronly
contemporaries. My gown, which was sage-green, my best colour, and ghastly expensive,
showed my figure to advantage. I knew my brown hair gleamed with gold lights, and that my
complexion was clear and fresh from all that country air. In short, I was aware that my
acquaintance thought me remarkably well preserved for eight-and-twenty. Almost, I enjoyed
myself.

"Our cousin is certainly causing a flutter amongst the matchmaking mamas," Anne
observed.

"Who?" I smiled at Sir Winton Peverel, who kissed his hand to me.

"Clanross."

"Clanross? Oh. Why should he not?"

"No reason," Anne purred. "No reason at all, but I do think, sister dear, you might have
hinted at his transformation. Keeping him to yourself?"

I gave her a stony stare. "He was ill. He's better. What more is there to say? You met
him when he came to Town last autumn."

"Yes, but my dear, only look at him, knee-deep in bridesmaids."

I did look. Clanross, having settled Aunt Whitby among her cronies, had paid his
respects to Lady Dunarvon, been captured by Bevis and Lady Barbara, and now, Bab on his arm,
was cutting a perceptible swath through Sarah's attendants. They batted their lashes at him and
giggled. He and Barbara appeared to be carrying on a mutually delightful conversation. Unless I
mistook the matter, Clanross was flirting shamelessly with Bevis's sister. And doing so, what
was worse, with the aplomb of long practice. I felt betrayed.

I swallowed. "He'll be wanting a wife. Why not Bab Tyrell?"

"Why not?" My sister shrieked softly. "You are without doubt the most exasperating
female our family has ever produced. I've been feeling sorry for you stuck down there with
Clanross an invalid. But the man is downright personable, and don't tell me you haven't noticed.
Look at Lady Dunarvon. She fairly quivers with satisfaction. If she were a bishop she'd be
blessing them."

"Then she's changed her tune," I snapped. "I'll lay odds she wouldn't even have
presented Bab to him before he succeeded my father. What's more he knows it. Do you suppose
he's likely to forget that?"

"Yes," Anne said flatly. "He's not thickheaded."

"You've changed your tune as well, I see."

"I thought him awkward and not conversable," Anne pronounced, still watching
Clanross and Barbara, who were laughing delightedly. "I did not consider him ill-favoured. You
confuse my opinion with Kitty's."

I was rescued before I could think up a suitable rejoinder. By Bevis. I fear I turned to
him with more animation than I felt. I did not stop to question my motives.

* * * *

Bevis and I had been negotiating like wary armies since my arrival in Town. I would
concede a point--show myself at Lady Ware's musicale, say--and he would promise to moot the
question of my telescope to his father. The tension would ease, and we would lapse into the old
comfortable style until some gibe or jest rang sour and we had again to parley. I loved Bevis. I
did not doubt that my affection was at least potentially wifely until the fatal afternoon, less than a
week after Sarah's wedding.

The weather was bright if a trifle oppressive. People were leaving Town for Brighton or
their country estates and the fashionable ranks had thinned. As Alice and I walked slowly along
the Serpentine I had ample time to look at the two men coming toward us. They were much of a
height and similarly dressed, and my first thought as I saw them in the distance was, 'There's
Clanross. I must tell him about Jean's letter,' and then it struck me that I should have recognised
Bevis first. I felt oddly embarrassed.

Happily, Alice is shortsighted, and I composed myself before she saw them.

"Oh. There's Clanross," she exclaimed, pleased. "Do tell him about Lady Jean's
letter."

I was hard put not to laugh.

"And Lord Bevis, too," she went on. "What a pleasant chance."

"You sound as if we'd seen neither in a month." We had all gone to Maria Puncheon's
drum the night before.

"Elizabeth, my little daffodil, you come before the swallow dares and take the winds of
May with beauty."

"March, not May. Do give over, Bevis. I collect you found that in Bab's book of
extracts. Good afternoon, Clanross."

"Elizabeth. Mrs. Finch." Clanross smiled. Quite an ordinary smile. My stomach
flipflopped for no reason. I ignored it and described for Clanross Jean's epistle, which largely
concerned the conduct of Tom-the-dog. "He appears to have eaten an old saddle leather, a pair of
Jem's pattens, and Victory's blanket."

"I know."

"How?"

"Maggie writ me."

"Oh." Well, why not? "How's Maggie's spelling?"

"Inventive. Does Jean spell
remarkable
with a 'c'?"

"Upon my word," Bevis interrupted, "charming as your coltish sisters may be, my dear
Lizzie, I can't help feeling that we might find a livelier topic for discourse."

"What say you to my telescope?"

"Drat your telescope."

We glowered at each other, but neither of us meant to pursue the subject in front of
Alice. She still didn't know of our betrothal.

Clanross did know. He diverted the conversation to other channels and presently
dropped behind with Alice, leaving Bevis and me to our privacy. I wasn't sure I was
grateful.

"Have you spoken with Dunarvon?"

"Blast it, no. How can I, without revealing our engagement?"

"Use your ingenuity."

"How?" he asked bitterly. "Dear Papa, naming no names, should you greatly object to
my marriage with a telescope?"

"That's unfair."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I told you I had discovered a comet. Do you know how few people in this
kingdom can say that? It ought to convince you I'm not a mere amateur."

"I wish you were."

"Oh, do you? I wonder why."

"I've no desire to find myself the butt of my friends' jokes."

I stopped dead. "You will explain, if you please."

"Dash it, Liz, you know very well what a figure I'll cut. If it were painting you'd a
passion for, or poetry or music or even politics, no one would think it odd, but astronomy!" He
grimaced. "All those blasted computations. It ain't womanly."

"What a blessing, then, that my article will be published in my maiden name. I'd
certainly dislike casting a shadow on the noble name of Tyrell."

"Now, Liz...what article?"

"Why, the monograph I writ describing my discovery." Mindful of the Brighton coach, I
had arranged to sign only my initials, but I was too angry to explain that.

"You will retract it at once."

"You're mad!"

"I'm very sorry, Elizabeth. If I'd known..." He took a breath and spoke in carefully
reasonable tones, "You must see, my dear, it just won't do. The future Viscountess Bevis to be
bandying her name in a public journal? No, at that I do draw the line."

I was struck dumb. I stood for a hideous time staring into his worried blue eyes. With a
word he had reduced my achievement to the level of skittish misbehaviour, as if I had been found
scribbling a column of gossip for the
Morning Post.

Alice and Clanross caught up with us. "Dear Elizabeth," Alice chirruped. "Should we
not return? Dear Lady Whitby..."

"The devil fly away with Lady Whitby," I said through clenched teeth.

"Elizabeth!" Alice stared.

"Liz!" Bevis's voice was anguished.

I didn't care. I felt as if I might be sick. Everyone was staring.

Clanross watched me, too, frowning. At last he said quietly, "I think it would be prudent
if we all withdrew to some less public place, Mrs. Finch."

Alice was making noises of acute distress, and Bevis said something I didn't hear. I felt
as if I might faint for the first time since I was eighteen and had danced all night in a hot
ballroom.

"Elizabeth?"

I took Clanross's arm, clutching at it.

"No, really, Tom." Bevis sounded more himself. "You can't just bull in like that. I'll take
Lizzie home."

Clanross paid no attention. His arm felt hard and reassuring beneath my gloved hand. As
we walked slowly toward the carriageway the ground steadied beneath my feet. I still shook,
however, and I began to be really nauseated. I wondered if I would disgrace all my names,
present and potential, by casting up my accounts in Hyde Park.

I also wondered, drearily, why I had fancied Bevis would be pleased with me. I knew
very well my avocation was unnatural in a woman, but I had been in the habit of thinking that, if
I showed ability, my skill would overcome everyone's loathing. Clearly not. I believe Bevis
would have allowed me to continue my work, even then, but his chagrin at the thought of my
taking public credit for it was deep and unfeigned. He was horror-struck. Rightly so, I thought,
tears pricking my eyes. What a fool I was.

We reached the drive and I became aware that Clanross had hailed someone.

A phaeton drew up, and Sir Winton Peverel's high-nosed features peered down at
us.

"Ah, Peverel, I believe you are acquainted with Lady Elizabeth Conway."

"Clanross, isn't it? Servant, Elizabeth. Bevis, Mrs. Mmmm." His voice sharpened. "I say,
not looking quite the thing, is she?"

"No." My cousin covered my clutching hand briefly with his own. "The heat--very
oppressive today. Could I prevail upon you to drive Lady Elizabeth home?"

"Delighted," Winton murmured. "Always happy to see Lady Liz. Staying at
Featherstonehaugh's in Cavendish Square, what?"

Clanross handed me up, steadying me. "I think Mrs. Finch should come too, Peverel, if
you've no objection."

Winton assented--after a slight hesitation. He was far too fashionable to relish being
seen with two ladies above a certain age. There was a bustle as Alice squeezed in beside me. I
was beginning to come to my senses by then, but I did not protest Clanross's high-handed
arrangement. I wanted privacy--to go to my room and think.

I mastered myself sufficiently to give Clanross my hand and a rather wavering smile.
"Thank you, Tom."

He said nothing. As we drove off I glimpsed the two men standing side by side looking
after us. Bevis's blue eyes were dark with worry and guilt. I could not read Clanross's expression
at all, but the picture of the two men stayed in my mind for a long time afterward.

Bevis came to Anne's house later that afternoon bearing roses and retractions. He would
speak with Dunarvon immediately. He was a beast to cause me pain. I could have half a dozen
telescopes if I wanted them.

I listened to him sadly. What was the use? I knew what I had to do.

He wound down at last. "Liz, forgive me. Don't look like that."

"Like what, Bevis?"

"As if you've lost your best friend."

I blinked back too easy tears. "My dear, I think I have. You must see it won't work. I'll
always be as I am--cross-grained and selfish and unwomanly. If it weren't my work it would be
something else. I'm not fit to be anyone's wife, least of all yours."

"Don't say that, Liz!"

"Please hear me out, Bevis. In my cross-grained, selfish way, I do love you. Enough,
perhaps, to give up my work entirely but not enough to like the sacrifice. I'd make a most
unsatisfactory martyr."

"Dash it, I don't want you to give it up."

"You think that now because you're feeling guilty."

"And so I should." He jumped up and began pacing the room. "Good God, Liz, we can
work it out."

"No. I don't really want to try. We've been the victims of old habit and a mutual panic
over letting too much time run by us. We were thrust together at Brecon. With your mind on
Clanross's health and your father and your own wish to wed, and mine on my plaguey spyglass,
our feelings coursed along unhindered by common sense, as the sap riseth in the spring. Alas, I
do love you, but I won't wed you for any consideration. I'd make a miserable viscountess, and I'd
make you miserable as well."