Laura Matthews (20 page)

But what if he was trying to trap her? Tonight the soul of amiability, tomorrow he might forbid her to continue her daily excursions to the vicarage. Had he not been mild about her performance in Hyde Park and then turned around and brought them all back to Lockwood in the blink of an eye? Of course, that was partly her aunt’s doing. No, he was not likely to be so cruel, she decided. And if he were, she would ignore him. Jennifer turned away from her aunt and started up the stairs. “Good night, aunt. I think we have nothing more to say on the subject.”

The Dowager Lady Pontley had a great deal more to say on the subject, but she made no attempt to do so. Watching her niece quickly climb the steps to be as far away from her as possible, it occurred to her that the more she railed, the more her niece would act contrarily. The thought of spending the rest of her days within walking distance of this inflammable, unstable personality exhausted her. That the next Viscountess Pontley had so little to recommend her beyond her appearance made the dowager’s blood run cold. She had, over many years, invested her energies entirely in Lockwood and the dignity of the Pontley peerage. To see it fall to the hands of her nephew was blow enough, without adding the disastrous young lady now disappearing down the first floor hall. Her hopes for this generation were lost by the death of both of her sons, but that she should have to contemplate the ruin of the next generation as well with her niece as mother to it... Her pride revolted.

Chapter 16

The rehearsal the next day was not a joyous occasion. Phoebe and Glenna were aware that Kilbane was attempting to retrench, but in his effort to keep a distance from the girl he was unwontedly formal. Jennifer was at first confused by this change of face, hurt and sad. Her eyes were large and incredulous with the suspicion of moisture about them, her hands fluttered in nervous agitation and she kept sneaking looks at each of the other participants. Surely there could not have been such a turnabout in Kilbane‘s affections overnight; someone had spoken with him. She went through her part mechanically as she contemplated who was most likely to have been the culprit.

Phoebe treated her much as usual and Glenna with slightly more kindness than she previously had, in an unsuccessful attempt to distract the girl’s attention. Jennifer suspected both and neither of them, but she was sure they must be laughing at her for this defection of Kilbane’s. When he did not take her hand, as he always had before, during the flirtation scene, she grew rigid with anger. There was an astonished silence when she slapped him and slammed out of the room without a word. They heard her call loudly for her groom and watched, still stunned, as she mounted and rode off. Kilbane groaned and dashed from the room but Jennifer paid no heed when he called after her, and Phoebe and Glenna watched him start to run in the other direction.

“Oh, Lord, what now?” Phoebe cried.

“He’s probably off for a horse to catch her up. Poor Kilbane! He was trying so hard to act properly, but he rather overdid it.”

“Don’t tell me you can excuse the little spitfire for slapping him?” Phoebe asked incredulously.

Glenna shook her head sadly. “Of course not, but it must have been rather a jolt to her for him to be so cold today after his attentions of last evening. Remember Peter told us she is known to be highly strung, and Pontley told me her nerves were delicate.”

“Hogwash! She’s a spoiled, selfish vixen and someone should take her in hand. I would think Pontley was just the one, too, for he strikes me as standing for no nonsense, but men are so foolish when they fall in love.”

“No more so than women, I dare say, Phoebe,” Glenna retorted with a speaking glance.

Phoebe flushed and bent down to retrieve a sheet of the script she had dropped. “Well, I will not excuse Jennifer on that head, Glenna, for I cannot see how she could be in love with Kilbane. She has only just gotten herself engaged to Pontley. I doubt
any
woman is that scatterbrained, and we have been led to believe that it is a love match.”

Despite the constriction in her throat, Glenna protested firmly, “Well, of course it is. Pontley doesn’t have the address Kilbane does, however, and I fear the girl’s head has been turned as much by Kilbane’s easygoing nature as by his graces. I thought perhaps Pontley was attempting to duplicate that last night when he was so very
casual
in the face of their flirtation.”

A puzzled frown wrinkled Phoebe’s brow. “Do you think so? Certainly
I
have never seen him more at ease. I suppose he had no desire to cause a scene, as you said, and if he had glowered at her all the evening we might have had a display of temper from her such as we were shown this morning."

"I
feel sure he knows her very well, Phoebe, and treats her as he thinks best. Has she not complained of his strictness with her? And yet we have also seen him indulge her in her whims, so he is attempting to keep some balance for her high spirits. I think he can be trusted to do what is right and necessary to hold her affection.” Glenna suddenly wished very much to end the discussion and be alone for a while. “I think I should practice for a while, love, if you will excuse me.”

* * * *

Kilbane had lost precious minutes going to the livery stables for one of his horses, and Jennifer had not proceeded at a leisurely pace, so it was half an hour before he overtook her. She was almost to Lockwood by this time and at first would not heed his pleas to stop and hear him out, but shook her head mutely, the color still high in her cheeks.

“Please, Jennifer, you must understand how it is. I did not wish to be so formal with you; the vicar insisted on it.”

She was startled into looking at him. “The vicar?”

“Yes, he rang a peal over me for my...behavior at dinner and said he would have to cancel the play if I did not act with more propriety.” His eyes begged her to understand his dilemma. “I could not ruin all our work, could not bear to think of not seeing you each day.”

Jennifer drew in the mare and cast a quick glance at the groom following them at a sufficient distance as not to overhear their conversation. Her eyes filled with tears which overflowed down her cheeks. “Oh, Kilbane, forgive me for slapping you. I thought— I thought you...were mocking me for my forwardness. I have never been one to hide my emotions very well.”

“Don’t cry!” he exclaimed, hastily bringing forth a handkerchief to hand to her. But she was not looking at him and he could not hand it to her, so he leaned over and dabbed at her wet cheeks, wrenched to the heart by her distress. “Don’t ask my forgiveness, I beg you. It was my own clumsiness which caused you such pain. I should never have been so particular in my attentions to you, but...I could not help myself,” he confessed sadly.

“You have been very kind to me and cheered me immeasurably,” she protested, raising her eyes to his. “Philip treats me like a child, you know, and he
will
prose on about how I should behave. He’s so old and stuffy.”

Kilbane was shocked by her attitude toward her fiancé. “But, Jennifer, you are to marry him! Surely you are not being forced into this match.”

Tears once again formed in her eyes. “He was so much nicer when first I met him.
Then
he did not seem so old and strict. Oh, Kilbane, it is so wretched not knowing what to do.” The tears overflowed once more and she allowed him to dab at them, but she was aware that the groom could not possibly avoid seeing such an intimacy. Well, if Philip was not around to console her when she was in distress, it was his own fault.

In an attempt to be fair to Pontley, Kilbane said judiciously, “I should not think he is so very old, Jennifer. Assuredly not thirty. And navy men are given to a certain discipline which will no doubt soften in time. I cannot think anyone would have the heart to deny you the least addition to your happiness.”

Jennifer smiled tremulously at him. “You are kind to think so, Kilbane, but I cannot expect Philip to be so tenderhearted. He is often cross with me when I interrupt his work or suggest an improvement in his household. Why, I should think he would be grateful to me!”

“He should be delighted with every moment he can be with you,” Kilbane asserted, leaving unspoken, but not unimplied, that
he
certainly would be. Hesitantly, he added, “You must not rush into this marriage, Jennifer. I don’t doubt that your aunt and your parents are pleased with it for its worldly merits, but it may be...that your disposition is not well-suited to Lord Pontley’s.”

“No, I am afraid it is not,” she said sadly. “But there is little I can do, you see. The banns have been published and my parents will come here sometime soon. There is not to be even a large wedding with bridesmaids and guests. No one was concerned with my wishes on such an important occasion.” A heartfelt sigh escaped her.

“You must not marry him unless you are sure it is what you wish,” Kilbane said fiercely. “Yours should be a life of joy and not of drudgery. Jennifer, promise me you will not marry him until you are sure of your mind!”

“I—I cannot make such a promise, Kilbane.” She raised her head proudly and smiled wistfully at him. “You must not be concerned for me. I shall manage.”

“Manage!” He choked the word out as though it were poison, but he did not say more, as they were now being approached by two riders from the direction of Lockwood. One of them was Pontley; Kilbane was not familiar with the other.

Pontley was startled to find Jennifer headed back to Lockwood so early, and in the company of Lord Kilbane, but he gave no indication of this. “We were just riding to the vicarage and had thought to see you there, Jennifer. ‘Morning, Lord Kilbane. May I introduce Captain Andrews to you both?”

The name meant nothing to either of them, but Jennifer smiled demurely and Kilbane shook hands with the captain, at the same time intent on explaining his presence to Pontley. “Miss Stafford was not feeling up
to rehearsing this morning and I rode after her to see that she made it to her aunt’s all right.”

Since Jennifer enjoyed excellent health, Pontley did not have to stretch his imagination to picture that she had had one of her outbursts of temper. He had never had much hope that she would make it through all the rehearsals and the performance without one, but he sighed inwardly for the reaction of the others in the group. “Are you feeling more the thing, my dear?” He noticed, with something of a shock, that she had been crying.

“Yes, Philip, I am perfectly recovered now,” she responded softly, her head bowed.

“Good. Shall we ride with you to your aunt’s before we go to the vicarage?”

“Why would you go to the vicarage now that I am returned?” she asked crossly.

Pontley could not repress the amusement she caused him in thinking that she was the only object of attention at any and all times, but she did not observe the twitch of his lips as he said solemnly, “Captain Andrews is acquainted with Miss Thomas and Miss Forbes and has desired that I accompany him on his call.”

“You could go another time.”

“No, my dear, Captain Andrews cannot be here long and it is necessary that he visit the vicarage as soon as possible. Shall we ride with you first?”

Jennifer was infuriated by his obstinacy, by his lack of concern for her alleged indisposition and by his cheerfulness. With a toss of her head she declared haughtily, “Lord Kilbane will see me to my aunt’s. There is no need for you to inconvenience yourself.”

“As you wish, my dear. I will look in later, of course.”

“Don’t put yourself to the trouble,” she snapped, and kicked the mare into a trot without bidding the captain farewell.

Kilbane took his leave of them with some embarrassment and followed in her wake, only to be greeted by her stormy eyes and angry comments. “You see how it is with him! What does he care if I have not been well? Would he postpone a jaunt with his friend to see to my comfort? No, never! He does precisely what he wishes, and has not the least thought to me. I might be dying for all he knows.

“But you told him you were perfectly recovered, Jennifer,” Kilbane protested, “and he offered to ride with you to your aunt’s.”

“He did not suggest that I ride with them to the vicarage!”

“I shouldn’t think you would want to.”

“Well, I don’t, but what has that to say to anything? What if I
had
wished to go?” And then, just as suddenly as her storm had risen, it dispersed, but it did not leave her to her frequently sunny outlook on life. Instead, she looked desolated and lost, a child bewildered by forces it could not comprehend. “He tries to be good to me,” she whispered, “but he doesn’t understand. No one understands. Ride after them, Kilbane. The groom will see me to my aunt’s.”

A minute earlier he would have been more than happy to do so; her behavior had been a disconcerting revelation, and one which he would have spared himself had he been able. It would have been so much simpler to return to Cambridge with the dream untarnished, her gaiety an exquisite memory for him to cherish, tinged with the despair of hopelessness. It was the romantic ideal and just barely suitable to his ebullient personality. He could not, in all conscience, leave her here alone, and what was more, he did not wish to. The chord she had struck in him was not a superficial one after all.

“What is it no one understands, Jennifer?” he asked gently.

Her body shook with silent sobs and she made a gesture of despair. “I could not explain, and it would not matter if I could. You see, even if I try to be different, I cannot. There is a...fire always burning in me. I should care, I suppose, because Mama and Papa and my sister have always urged me to control myself. And now my aunt does the same. Poor Philip! He wanted no more than to help me, and see where it has got him. I can’t change, Kilbane, and I have never cared before. But it doesn’t matter that I care now, that it hurts to see you disgusted by me. I suppose it is because you are young and full of spirits, too. Never mind. It is better that you know.”

“Do you...get in rages often?”

“Only when I cannot have my way,” she said with an attempt at lightness.