Lady Elizabeth's Comet (6 page)

"I see," I said doubtfully. So it was Lord Dunarvon, Bevis's papa, who had been the
parvenu nobleman to employ Clanross.

"What you said about his gait and carriage and--what was it? 'stiff
half-bows'--confirmed my suspicions. It was a dashed fine portrait of Tom with a red hot
ago if the wind had cooperated."

"So you said. Bevis, why didn't you write me of your friendship with Clanross?"

He flushed. "Slipped my mind."

"Nonsense."

He said slowly, "At first I daresay I didn't see the connexion, for he never spoke of it,
and later I gathered he was not on good terms with your father."

"I know of no break. Papa procured his commission."

Bevis shifted in the chair.

"Out with it. I daresay Papa was tactless."

"There was that business of Mr. Henry Conway and your mother, of course."

"What!"

"You don't know? Oh, the devil. I beg your pardon, Liz. I ought not to have mentioned
it."

"Now that you have, you'd best finish."

"Lord, I suppose so. Henry Conway ran off with your mother--or tried to--whilst she
was betrothed to your father."

"My word!"

Bevis was equal to almost any social situation, and I ought to have been amused at his
discomfiture. I wasn't. I was too stunned. I did not remember my mother well, but she had
certainly seemed a pattern card of propriety.

"They were stopped within hours, of course, and it was hushed up. The thing is," Bevis
said uncomfortably, "Henry Conway was a married man at the time. You mustn't think ill of your
mama, Liz. I daresay he tricked her. She was only seventeen and not up to snuff. My mother
always said he was a dashed attractive bounder."

"No wonder Papa despised him. I thought him merely a gamester."

"Oh, that, too. Had the audacity to apply to your father for funds, I daresay, but he lost
everything in the end. Died of a bad liver before he could be clapped into Newgate."

"Ugh."

"A thoroughly ramshackle character."

"So it would seem." I sighed. "I must say I perceive why you didn't plump yourself on
the acquaintance."

"None of it was Tom's fault. He was in leading strings when his papa decided to play the
gay seducer."

"Yes, but you will allow it explains why my Papa felt a certain coolness toward
him."

"And why Tom wouldn't ask your father for help when he needed it," Bevis
muttered.

"What do you mean?"

He fell silent for a moment, then went on, choosing his words, "Tom was wounded
when we crossed the Nive into France. We could see, once he decided to live, that he was going
to be invalided out as soon as the Chelsea sawbones clapped eyes on him. I saw how it would be,
and God knows I told him so bluntly. The army surgeons couldn't do anything, but there was no
saying a really advanced practitioner mightn't have been able to. I told Tom to apply to your
father, and he dashed near bit my head off, said he wasn't a case for Lord Clanross's alms yet,
thank you very much, and to mind my own damned business. Sorry, Liz."

"Think nothing of it," I said hollowly.

"Well, it turned out just as I thought it would. They retired him on a captain's half-pay
and he could live on that, but there was no way he could chase over Europe hunting down
first-rate surgeons. It made me sick as a cat."

"Why a captain?"

"Horse Guards' nip-farthing ways, my dear. He was given a brevet majority a sixmonth
before he was hit, but he couldn't afford an exchange, so they retired him at his permanent
rank."

"He must have hated my father very much."

"I don't think it was that precisely." He regarded me with a gloomy countenance. "I say,
Liz, keep this behind your teeth, will you? I ain't so indiscreet as a rule."

I forced a smile. "You may be indiscreet, Bevis, but you're a good friend."

He did not reply to that at once and finally muttered, "I hope I am, though my best
intentions seem to go awry. I daresay the family were put off to find Tom working as a
land-agent."

"They were surprised. Sims says he was bored and wanted something to do. I see that. I
hope your father received his money's worth."

"Lord, you're vulgar. When Tom puts his mind to something he always does it well. My
father had no cause to complain, though that didn't stop him when he found out Tom had
succeeded to the title. I was in the suds then, I can tell you."

"Serves you right."

"The thing is, I was afraid for Tom, sitting about in that dismal cottage with nothing to
think of but how soon he was going to wind up in a Bath chair. So I made the offer and he took
me up on it."

I frowned. "Afraid? You don't mean you believed he'd put a period to his
existence?"

Bevis was silent.

"No wonder you raced up here
ventre à terre.
Good God, Bevis, surely
not."

"It's what I'd do," he said simply. "And I ain't sure I'd have stopped Tom."

I could find no rejoinder to that and sat silent, thinking that Bevis was a deeper character
than I had supposed. Of course, he was five years older than when I had last seen him, however
little changed in appearance. They must have been lively years.

"You say you nursed Tom through a bad session?"

When I told him briefly what had happened, Bevis rose and began to pace in front of the
fire. "Tom's not paralysed, you say?"

"No, but Charles thinks there may be some permanent nerve damage. I won't pretend
Charles didn't take a terrible risk, Bevis."

"Let's hope it proves justified."

On that subdued note Bevis took his leave, promising faithfully to return for dinner, and
I went up for a nap.

* * * *

At dinner he was his usual cheerful self. I presumed Clanross had not gone into a
decline. I didn't enquire closely. I wanted to think about other things. My nebulosity, for an
example. A pity the fog hadn't lifted.

As he took his leave that evening Bevis said to me in low tones, "I'm staying at Brecon
until this thing's resolved."

"What do you mean?"

"Until I know whether your precious Wharton has landed my friend in a Bath chair. He's
dashed weak. Tom, I mean."

"Was Charles there?"

"Yes. Gentleman, ain't he? You keep odd acquaintances."

"Just the ragtag and bobtail of the neighbourhood," I said modestly, "and any passing
viscounts I find on my doorstep."

He was standing at the open door. "Some day someone will throttle you, my lady."

"Alice, no doubt. We are making a draught."

"Shall I call tomorrow?"

"Join us for dinner again. Clanross's bill of fare won't suit you. I believe he advances at
Charles's direction from broth and barley water to pap, and thence to gruel, or perhaps vice
versa."

Bevis grinned and raised my hand to his lips. "I
wish
you will marry me. Good
night, Elizabeth."

I thoroughly enjoyed Bevis's company, perhaps because it began to rain in an earnest
way, and my nebulosity had to await clear nights. Bevis was much more interesting to me now
than he had been when I had refused his offer of marriage five years before. I had felt twinges of
regret then. I now suffered more.

Bevis had not lost his disarming gaiety, but he had stopped being ashamed of his brains
and his feelings. The affable idiot had grown into a charming, warmhearted man. I liked him
very much. In fact, I loved him. Did I love him enough to wish to marry him? I did not
know.

It was probable that Bevis would not wish to marry an eccentric spinster with a
telescope, I admitted to myself a little sadly. For a woman the gap between twenty-three and
twenty-eight is absolute, an abyss. I consoled myself with the thought that his papa would
certainly prohibit my astronomical endeavours.

Charles Wharton joined us for dinner later in the week. Bevis, looking heavy-eyed,
excused himself early. I suspected him of relieving Sims in the sickroom, though the younger
Bevis would never have done such a thing. I honoured him for it.

Charles rose when I returned from seeing Bevis out. "Liz, will you come up to Brecon
with me tomorrow?"

"Good heavens, why?"

"I shall have to have a straight talk with Clanross, and I want you to hear what I
say."

"Are you afraid of a lawsuit?"

"He wields a great deal of power, or will in future."

"And you feel the need of a family member to sustain you? Very well, Charles. I take it
your news are not good."

He frowned.

"Has it occurred to you that Clanross might prefer to hear you privately?"

"He may prefer it. I don't. I daresay Lord Bevis will be present, in any case. He's been
there the last two calls."

"They are close friends."

"So I deduce."

I said coolly, "If you wish, I'll stand your friend, Charles, but it won't be necessary, at
least not in the legal sense. The family are in your debt, whatever the verdict, and the
responsibility is mine. I called you in."

"Thank you." I could tell he felt uncomfortable and wanted to say something more.
Apparently he couldn't think what. Tact was never Charles's strong suit.

His clumsiness touched me and I added, forcing a smile, "I still hope your dog bites you
when you reach home, if he hasn't already done so."

He grinned, vastly relieved, and took his farewells.

* * * *

The next morning the arrival of one Miss Bluestone from London a full day early drove
my diplomatic mission from my mind. In the labours of the past week I had nearly forgot Anne
was despatching a governess. Not so Jean and Maggie.

When the inn servant arrived with Miss Bluestone's message--she and her traps wanted
conveying to the Dower House--the twins disappeared. They were not to be found in the house. I
sent Jem with the gig to fetch the woman and organised the stable boys into a search party. When
Miss Bluestone arrived on my doorstep, erect and daunting in black bombazine and accompanied
by several cases plainly labelled "Plant Specimens," I fear I welcomed her incoherently.

"I hope you will find your chamber comfortable, and I shall direct the twins to be shown
to you as soon as they are found. If they are."

"Pray do not concern yourself, my lady," Miss Bluestone uttered. She was a compact,
plain woman of about forty, and she had a small moustache which was going to provoke my
sisters' mirth. "I am a day ahead of myself owing to Lady Anne's kindness in procuring me a ride
as far as Chacton with Mr. Featherstonehaugh's agent. I must otherwise have delayed at
Grantham."

"Do take some more tea, ma'am."

"Thank you." She shot me a shrewd, sidelong glance. "I am a botanist by avocation, my
lady, and I cannot help noticing the abundance of rare flora in the Park. With your permission I
shall occupy myself in taking some sketches of the
Abies latifolia
by the drive. A noble
tree, indeed, and so well grown a specimen. Do not feel agitation at your sisters' absence, my
lady. They will come back when the supply of apples and cakes they have provided themselves
with runs low."

I blinked.

"So it is with run-aways, in my experience," she said kindly.

"I daresay you're right."

"Now I must intrude no further on your time, Lady Elizabeth. If my things have arrived,
I shall see that my specimens are carefully unpacked. Is there an edition of Linnaeus in your
bookroom?"

"Er, no. Papa kept such works at Brecon. I'll procure the volumes for you this afternoon,
if you like."

She smiled. "How very kind in you, my lady. If it will be no trouble..."

"No, no. Of course not. I daresay Clanross won't mind in the least."

"His lordship is in residence?"

"Not
en train.
He is convalescing from an illness and is living very quietly.
Brecon has not been opened."

She exhibited no further curiosity and rose at once.

"Shall you wish to display your specimens in the schoolroom?"

"The young ladies are fourteen?"

"And a half."

She nodded her head, brisk as a bird. "I'll risk it."

* * * *

Charles came for me at two. Maggie and Jean were still missing. In the distance I could
see Miss Bluestone, completely unperturbed, pacing slowly about a great conifer. Estimating its
girth, no doubt.

We rattled up the long drive in Charles's ancient gig in silence. Charles seemed
apprehensive. I was apprehensive myself, but my feet followed obediently as Jenkins took us up
to the first floor. It should not be supposed that I looked forward to the interview. I dislike being
slavered over, and I did not anticipate Clanross's gratitude with eagerness.

Jenkins stopped short of the first bedchambers and opened the door to the small
withdrawing room, announcing in his quavering voice, "Lady Elizabeth Conway, Mr.
Wharton."

Bevis was standing by the Adam fireplace in the small withdrawing room, where a large
blaze roared. He came forward at once.

"How d'ye do, Wharton? Liz! I say, this is a surprise. Well, well. We decided to move
quarters, as you see. Tom, wake up, you lout. Surgeon's here."

Clanross was lying, slightly propped, on a daybed. It was odd to find him clothed and
shaven and right side up. He looked pale and weak but considerably more civilised than when I
had seen him last. His face betrayed no surprise at my presence.

"Lady Elizabeth. I shan't apologise for not rising."

I bobbed a curtsey, acknowledging the irony with a well-bred smile. I took the chair
Bevis set for me, with my feet on the fender very nearly, and kept mum. Let Charles explain
himself. I wasn't going to.

"Well, Wharton?"

Charles cleared his throat. I knew he was nervous but he sounded self-important. "My
lord, you asked me to give you a straight account of your condition. I have hesitated. It's early
days yet."

"Get on with it, man." Bevis, sounding impatient, as well he might. Clanross said
nothing but continued to regard Charles steadily.