Second Season (18 page)

“Yes,” Arthur agreed. “Pity, but there it is: you’re dished for the moment, old boy. Go away until it blows over, which it will as soon as the next titbit comes along.”

“In Bath there won’t be another titbit to equal this!” Julian prophesied grimly.

“There’s
always
another titbit, even in Bath!”

Lady Inverclyde concurred that evening when Julian entered the salon before dinner. “What’s this I hear about you, Imbrie?”

“I’ve no idea, ma’am. There seems always so much to engross the gossips in my rather ordinary pursuits that I fear you must give me a clue,” he returned stiffly.

“Pish-tush, don’t think to give ME a set-down,” she snorted. “She wouldn’t have you, eh? That’s a new experience for you, I’ll wager.”

Julian compressed his lips. “As you say, ma’am.”

The old lady relented. “She’ll come about, you’ll see. Go away, Imbrie. Give her time to miss you. She will; she’s found no common pleasure in your company, she’ll not find another beau to equal it,” Lady Inverclyde nodded brusquely, “and I suppose you heard that Wrentham’s father is dead?”

“I had not. My information service does not equal yours.”

“Don’t look so castaway,” she cackled maliciously. “Sharlie won’t have him, either—that’s if he offers, which perhaps he won’t now that he’s succeeded. If I know Caroline Waxe, she’ll want something better than a baron’s daughter as her successor. Go away, let Sharlie think it over; you be thinking it over, too—and that’s my advice to
you
.”

After enduring an evening of escorting the older ladies to the play, where he retreated to the rear of the box and observed that the Stanwood’s stall was unoccupied, Julian felt the advice was sound—particularly as Stepan was already packing. “At what hour do we leave, milor’?”

“Nine,” Julian said curtly. “We’ll make for Warwick and try for Calydon in a day. Have the horses set to follow.”

“Yes, milor’.” Stepan worked silently for a few minutes, while the duke leaned against the window and despondently viewed the moonlight. Finally, “That Maria,” Stepan observed, “tell me Mees is very full of crying, but already all advances. The little one talks to her, Maria does not hear, but Mees does not cry any more. They do not go to theatre because visitor comes from London.”

Julian started and swung around. “
Who?
The Earl of Waxe?”

“No, no, is Captain,” Stepan reassured him. “The friend of little one, Maria say she is
very
glad to see him. Excuse interference, milor’,” Stepan hung his head ingratiatingly, “but we think—Maria and me—Mees will be sorry if we go away. Then we come back later,
ne
?”

“Perhaps. I doubt it will answer. My poor Stepan, I have cut up your hopes as well as my own, have I not? I am sorry, but perhaps that Maria’ will marry you anyway.”

“No, she will not,” Stepan shook his head positively. “She insist to stay with Mees. So: we must have them both, milor’—that is, if you still want Mees.”

The Duke of Imbrie stared absently at his feet, twisting the seal ring on his finger. “I want her,” he said tersely. “We leave at nine...”

CHAPTER VIII

While the duke
was setting forth for Calydon, Sharlie was drinking her morning chocolate and pondering the events of yesterday. Her head felt heavy from the prolonged spell of weeping followed by a restless night, during which she woke repeatedly to a sense of bewilderment. “This cannot be true, I must have dreamed it.” Had the Duke of Imbrie really thrown the world at her feet, asked her to be his wife, sought to draw her into his arms? Her initial shock was compounded by a growing humiliation. How stupid she had been! Mama had warned her not to attempt to promote, that Emily’s affections were not settled on anyone. She had been right. When Emily returned from her walk, her reaction to Lady Stanwood’s simple statement confirmed all. “Imbrie has made your sister an offer, which she refused, but she is naturally unstrung.”

“I should think so!” Emily’s blue eyes positively flashed with the light of battle. “The dreadful ugly old man, how did he
dare
approach Sharlie. What could he mean by it?”

“He meant to marry Sharlie,” Lady Stanwood remarked, “and he is not old, Emily—no more than thirty-three or four, I judge.”

“That IS old—and he’s a widower, too. Poor Sharlie,” Emily crooned, stroking her sister’s hand and kissing her gently. “Of course you couldn’t bear him. Shhh, darling, we won’t let him have you, will we, mama?”

“No, of course not, and I wish you will go away, Emily. You are making her worse,” Lady Stanwood said distractedly, as Charlotte burst into tears once more.

“Oh, mama, he said...” and “I was so sure it was Emily, and she doesn’t even like him!” and “Everyone will think...” she wailed.

“That will do,” her mother said firmly. “I am surprised at you, Charlotte. There is no need for an attack of the vapors merely because of an unanticipated offer of marriage, Imbrie has declared himself, you have refused. I am sorry for it, I have long thought you might be well-matched, but if you cannot like him, there is no more to be said.”

Sharlie gulped and stared at her. “You have long thought?” she repeated. “You never said so, mama. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Because
I
am not a matchmaker,” Lady Stanwood said meaningly, and laid a cloth soaked in lavendar water over Sharlie’s eyes. “Pray compose yourself, my love. We must strive to refute gossip by continuing as though nothing had occurred, which swollen red eyes will instantly defeat. I shall take Emily with me for tea, and on our return we shall proceed as planned, with dinner and attendance at the play.”

“No! Oh, mama, I cannot!”

“You must,” Lady Stanwood stated superbly. “You will wear the violet spider gauze with the fluted velvet pelerine—and if necessary, Tinsdale shall rouge your cheeks, but you will
appear,
Charlotte, and you will hold up your chin with perfect unconcern.”

That the Stanwoods did not attend the play was due to the arrival of Eustace. All three ladies were in the salon, sternly holding the conversation to trivialities, when Beamish announced “Captain Sir Eustace Gayle, milady.” Emily’s glowing face set the seal on Sharlie’s disillusion. In a trice, Emily’d manoeuvred Lady Stanwood into the offer of dinner, the abandonment of the play, “for we must hear all the latest
on dits,
mama, and the play is not thought to be particularly entertaining. Miss Parton viewed it last night, and declares she was never so bored. Do let us remain at home for a comfortable coze?”

For herself, Charlotte asked nothing better, and it was certainly a pleasant evening, but ... Even Lady Stanwood was looking rather serious as she bade Eustace goodnight.

Setting aside her chocolate cup, Charlotte reminded herself that she was no longer concerned. “What a coil I’ve made,” she shuddered unhappily. “Why did I let him know what I thought, expected? Emily never did; if he had offered for her, she’d have been dismayed—but he doesn’t know that. He’ll think she was trying to attach him—so I’ve humiliated her as well as myself. Oh, my wretched tongue! How can I ever hold up my head again? If only we could go home...”

She drooped against the pillows until Maria bustled in to remove the tray. “I’ll wear the demi-toilette of mulled muslin, I’m not riding today.”

“Yes, miss.” Silently Maria assisted her mistress to dress, but Sharlie’s doleful face wrung her heart. “Oh, please, miss,” she said impulsively, “don’t take it so hard. There’ll be someone you can fancy—not but what his grace is a feather for your cap, so rich and handsome as he is.”

“I suppose so.”

“Oh, yes, miss. The way he sits his horse, the way he drives his carriages,” Maria sighed. “He’s more than a Nonpareil, Miss Stanwood—but you’ll not have to see him again. They left Bath early this morning. Eh, what have I said to make you cry?” Maria asked, alarmed.

“Oh, Maria, you don’t understand. I never expected ... I mean, I thought he wanted Miss Emily,” Charlotte said despairingly, “and now we are all undone. He thinks she was trying for him, and he’s had to leave Bath to avoid embarrassment.”

“For
you
, miss,” Maria said, extending a handkerchief. “Don’t fret yourself, please. ’Twas always
you
in his mind, he never thought either of you was trying for him, miss.”

“How do you know that?”

“That Stepan told me,” Maria looked a bit conscious. “He’d come through the stableyard and talk French to that Anatole in the kitchen. By what he said,” she murmured artfully, “the duke was more interested in our house just because he knew he could be comfortable with our young ladies. Our family wasn’t trying to marry him, miss. No, he didn’t misunderstand, you’ve no need to worry.”

“I see.” Charlotte eyed her abigail in the mirror. “What else did Stepan tell you?”

“Oh—he thought it would be a very good thing, miss, if so be you took to the idea,” Maria blushed furiously and hastily turned to gather up Sharlie’s bedgown and wrap. “If that’s all, miss?”

“Yes, you may go.”

Steeling herself to composure, Charlotte accompanied Lady Stanwood to the Pump Room with Emily, where their entrance caused a general turn of heads and pause in conversation, until Lady Inverclyde beckoned imperiously. Head in the air, Lady Stan-wood sailed forward, distributing nods and smiles to her acquaintance, and established herself beside the old lady. Further rescue emerged in the person of Eustace, hastening forward to attach himself to their group. By the pressure of his hand and his meaning glance, he was now in possession of the gossip, and anxious to assist by devoting himself to Sharlie as soon as Emily was surrounded by her friends.

It went off surprisingly well despite the peering eyes and muted buzz of voices. There was no sign of Lady Imbrie and her companion. Intense avid curiosity certainly existed, but no indication of social censure. In time, Sharlie stopped shaking inside and was able to chat composedly, to laugh at a quip from Eustace, and look about the room with a smile for her friends.

“Good girl!” Lady Inverclyde said gruffly. “Mind, I think you’re a fool, Sharlie. If ever a pair was made for each other—but I don’t mean to tease you, child. You’ll think it over for yourself ... and how d’you fancy Bigglesworth for a brother-in-law?”

“If Emily fancies him,” Charlotte said with an effort. “She don’t,” Lady Inverclyde stated. “Got her eye fixed on Gayle, or I’m out in my reckoning. Pity there’s no money, but at least he’s not a half-pay officer and the children will be angelic. They won’t have any brains, but neither has Emily. Mind, I’m fond of her—you can’t help it—but she’s a silly goose. Afraid of poor Cupidon, who’s lost half his teeth and snores louder than I do!”

Now that the veils were stripped from her eyes, Charlotte saw that Lady Inverclyde was right. Eustace was far more suited to Emily than the duke. Emily would consider him a font of wisdom, where the duke would have been incomprehensible. It was still not wise for her to give her heart so openly. Riding with
Eustace the following day, Sharlie asked bluntly, “Why did you come? How could you so disturb Emily?”

His face was unwontedly grave. “I am for Spain within the month,” he said. “Marmont was
romped
at Salamanca, Wellington’s heading for Madrid to drive King Joseph out—but there’s still much to be done before the country’s free of Frenchies. We’ll see a few engagements before we get them over the mountains.” Sharlie caught her breath, “Does Emily know?”

“No, and ye’ll not tell her,” Eustace stated firmly, “but ’tis my last chance to see her. Faith, how could I stay away?”

“I suppose you couldn’t, but it is not kind to her, Eustace. I—was mistaken about Imbrie’s interest,” she said with difficulty, “but you are still hopeless. Even with a majority, you cannot conceive of Emily following the drum.”

He shook his head, “I’d not ask. The darling must have the best of everything. Sure, she’d not know how to go on,” Eustace muttered. “War is no place for a lady—the sights and sounds, and never enough food nor any money. No, I don’t think it, Sharlie—but this little time I must have. ’Twill put heart into me for facing the cannons again.”

After a moment, Sharlie raised her chin arrogantly. “You will NOT be killed,” she stated. “I won’t have you even be wounded, Eustace. I shall pray for your protection every day, and so will Emily when she knows ... and perhaps you’ll come home a general.”

“I doubt it,” he said wryly. “I’ve not the brains, but ’tis like ye to want my success.” Eustace reached for her hand and kissed it affectionately. “Ye’re as much a dear as your sister, Sharlie me darlin’, and if we’re not to be sister and brother-in-law, I’ll wish ye the happiest marriage for yourself.”

Charlotte looked away with a faint blush. “I doubt
that,
but we’ll make a pact to wish good things for each other, shall we?”

“We will!” Eustace kissed her hand again, released it. “Shall we have a gallop?”

“By all means.” Sharlie flicked Moonshine lightly and dashed off, oblivious of a solitary rider trotting toward them.

It was Lord Arthur, and he had not missed the horses walking sedately side by side, or the hand kisses. Reining in and turning back, he was conscious of a slight jolt. Did Miss Stanwood really prefer that handsome military
clod
to the Duke of Imbrie? Arthur could not believe it, but certainly he must find out as soon as possible. That evening he drove to Camden Place, and upon observing every sign of a gathering, presented his card to Beamish, after first inquiring whether Lady Stanwood held a party.

“No, milord,” Beamish bowed majestically. “Merely a few friends of the young ladies, quite informal.”

He was shortly shown into the salon to be welcomed most pleasantly by Lady Stanwood, and to find a group of young people excitedly playing at Lottery Tickets. Sharlie’s face was certainly shy, her greeting was a confused murmur, but in a single glance Lord Arthur saw that the dashing captain was seated beside Miss Emily. Inside of two minutes chat with Lady Stanwood, he was reassured. “After the little ’un,” he told himself thankfully, and laid himself out to charm his hostess until the game was finished. Then he excused himself and cleverly inserted himself beside Sharlie for Speculation.

When the noise was at its height, he said casually,

“I am sorry you are not to be my cousin, Miss Stanwood.”

“Oh, pray, do not speak of it. I am so ashamed for my behavior,” she murmured. In her agitation, she made a reckless bid and found herself the gainer, which unnerved her even more. “You must know I had not expected ... and I fear I said a great many things—but so did he.”

“I’ll be bound Julian did, he holds himself very high, Miss Stanwood—not that he took success for granted.” Lord Arthur made a bid for himself and lost. “I must tell you that he was as bashful as a boy, asked m’mother’s advice...”

“Oh, no, pray,” Sharlie said faintly. “Do not speak of it, you cannot know! Why, he actually said that if I wanted you, I’d never get you.”

“No more you would,” Arthur said cheerfully. “Julian warned me off as soon as I reached Bath—not that it was necessary. I like you very well, Miss Stanwood, but not to mince words, you aren’t quite what I have in mind for myself.”

“Sharlie, it’s your wager,” Emily called.

“Oh—I do not bet,” Charlotte said at random, oblivious of the exposed king that augured well for capturing the game. She was occupied in controlling herself.

Lord Arthur passed in his turn, and said in an undertone, “Forgive me, I do not mean to overset you, but I must tell you that my cousin is not given to impulsive starts. What he has said, he will mean. If it is abhorrent to you, that is the end of it—but I beg you will reflect.” Leaning forward, he examined the exposed card and said, “I bid,” while Sharlie looked blindly at her fingers. He said no more for the remainder of the evening, changed his position when a new game was begun, and merely pressed her hand gently with a level glance from his brown eyes before taking his leave.

Lady Stanwood had not failed to notice Sharlie’s agonized expression while Lord Arthur sat beside her, but she found herself in a coil. On the one hand she would prefer to remain in Bath, where Imbrie’s cousin might cause Charlotte to reverse her attitude—and on the other, she was deeply distressed by the presence of Eustace. If only he had some money! Emily’s portion was substantial, but not sufficient without some addition, however modest. She could not make up her mind what best to do. To stay in Bath was to allow Emily to fix her heart—to return to Stanwood Hall was to allow Sharlie to slip back into her spinsterish estate management, to say nothing of Algy Whipsnade lurking in the background.

The question was settled for her: measles had invaded her nursery, and communicated themselves to Geoffrey who had been spending a few weeks at the Hall. An express arrived from Lord Stanwood, saying that all the children had the disease. Since he had never had it, he was removing at once to Park Street, and trusted it was in time to avoid infection.

“Good God!”, exclaimed his wife. “Measles? Of all mischances that Geoffrey should have contracted them, for they are much more uncomfortable for adults. Well, there is no help for it. We must go home.” She frowned slightly, “I forget—you and Emily have had them, have you not?”