Authors: Elsie Lee
“Nonsense! I always knew Emily wanted Gayle; now Sharlie knows it too,” Julian returned. “If anything, all goes on more smoothly that the sisters would be situated for easy family intercourse.”
“It is a compelling point in your favor, but not one she will recognize until she has conquered the past.
You
feel no humiliation, but Miss Stanwood does—both for herself and for you. I tell you again, Julian: let all rest for a space. Slow and easy does it; hold your horses, man.”
Accordingly, under his cousin’s firm guidance, the Duke of Imbrie adopted a pose of impersonal courtesy. He made no effort to ride again beside Charlotte in the hunt, was not even present the following day, and preferred whist to an impromptu dance gotten up the one evening they chanced to be in company with neighborhood friends of Lord Alden. Moving, twirling through the steps of a country dance, Sharlie put a bright smile on her face and chatted with animation to her partner. That he was the schoolboy son of the household pressed into service to even the couples in no way diminished Sharlie’s appearance of enjoyment ... and led to a disastrous misplay by Julian that cost him the rubber.
“Sorry, Arthur.”
“Oh, think naught of it. We’re aware your mind is not on the cards, but it might be easier if you take my seat and set your back to the dancing,” Arthur suggested.
“It’d be easier still if we called it
finish
,”
the duke said with a try for courtesy. “This is the rubber—do we ruin your evening to break it now? I’m not in good frame tonight.”
“No, no, of course.it ruins nothing,” the host said heartily. “We’ll have many evenings—or do you go roaming again, Julian?”
“I’m for Malta next month, hoping for passage from there to Greece—unless circumstances prevent,” Julian shrugged. “Your servant, ma’am,” to the hostess. In a spate of graceful good-nights, he was gone ... when Sharlie discovered she did not really wish to dance but had the headache.
“A pity!” said her mother sympathetically. “Sit quietly beside me, my love, and we will shortly be leaving. Tomorrow you can rest, and by Monday you will be recovered for the second week.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Charlotte had no idea that her mother was playing a very cool hand. If, earlier, Lady Stanwood had been manoeuvring carefully to attach Imbrie for her daughter, now she was working even more cautiously to attach Charlotte to the duke. In a series of private conversations following her husband’s revelation of Imbrie’s formal offer, Lady Stanwood had straitly—vehemently—charged every member of the family to say
nothing
and leave it to HER!
“Do not think to assist, my love. Not a
word
,” she told her husband. “At the proper moment, I will tell Charlotte that Imbrie has spoken to you and the match has our approval ... but for God’s sake, do not try to help, Robert!”
“Lud, Nelly, there’s no need to be so
fierce
with me,” he protested, aggrieved. “I’ve said naught but that she’s to choose for herself, and you’ll handle all.”
Lady Alden readily engaged for silence from herself and her husband, “although George thinks it would be a
very
good thing,” she observed, “but however, he says so little upon all occasions that he would never overset Sharlie by a maladroit remark.”
“Yes,” her sister-in-law murmured slyly. “I have often wondered how on earth he managed to propose to you, Eliza.”
“Very nicely, I assure you,” Lady Alden lifted her chin—and spoilt the effect with an irrepressible giggle.
To Emily, Lady Stanwood was more open. “I wish you would discover as casually as you can, how Sharlie feels. I do not scruple to tell you, my love, that Imbrie has offered—but has Sharlie changed her mind?”
“I am certain she has—although between you and me, Mama, how
can
she?” Emily wrinkled her nose.
“There will be those who will say the same of you, for choosing an Irish baronet with no fortune but his face.”
“It is not at all the same. Eustace is
young
!”
“You are neither of you dried behind the ears,” Lady Stanwood agreed, “and Sharlie is not much farther advanced, but she has a different mind, Emily. I think them
ideally
suited. She had always a yearning for travel, foreign languages, country property—but it is exactly
that
which will give them a community of interest. You would find it boring, but you will see that Sharlie goes on very well.”
“Well,” said Emily after a moment, “if he is not precisely handsome, he is certainly very distinguished. Eustace thinks it would be a very good thing, for even if we will not move in quite the same circles, Sharlie would be near enough for frequent visiting. She would think nothing of riding over to see me any day, for it is no more than twenty miles.”
“Oh, everyone thinks it would be a very good thing,” Lady Stanwood remarked drily, “but how to accomplish it? She’s as shy as an unbroken colt, a word will put her off. Guard your tongue, Emily. Say nothing of the offer, but only try to discover her feelings.”
Two days later, “I’m sorry, Mama, but I cannot get a word from her,” said Emily. “She will talk freely, enter into anything of my future—but at mention of Imbrie, she simply
agrees:
yes, it is good fortune that Imbrie is well-disposed to Eustace, she is certain he is an excellent landlord, all his tenants must find him so ... and so forth—but it means nothing, Mama. Could we have been mistaken?”
“I am very sure we are not,” but her ladyship decided on shock tactics. “My love,” she said to Charlotte, “it has seemed to me that you are not wholly yourself. Are you quite happy?”
Sharlie protested that indeed she was enjoying the visit, but Lady Stanwood shook her head. “Does Imbrie’s presence overset you, my dear? I would not have your father disclose it to you,” she said artfully, “but Imbrie has spoken to him.”
“Oh, Mama!” Sharlie said faintly.
“Your refusal was so firm that we feared to distress you. However, perhaps you should reconsider.
His
mind is unchanged; has yours? Papa must give some formal answer, you know. What shall it be?” Lady Stanwood patted her daughter’s hand gently. “That is all I have to say.”
She left Charlotte to her reflections, and by her thoughtful countenance was encouraged to hope ... except that now Imbrie was nowhere to be seen. Hang the man, he was never around at the right moment! The club meeting was drawing to a close, the hunt ball would take place on Friday, after which Lady Stanwood and her daughters would return to Stanwood Hall, the most propitious setting would be lost.
Lady Stanwood was strongly inclined for the vapors!
As for Charlotte, she had been suppressing them from the moment her mother revealed Imbrie’s formal offer. “That he should still want me, when I said
such
things,” her cheeks grew hot, yet with his continued absence, she doubted. “Might he not have spoken merely to regularize the situation, for he should have done so before addressing me, and the offer is made in the certainty of my repeating my refusal?” By Friday, Charlotte had settled it that this was Julian’s reasoning, “for aside from the first day, he has made not the least push to convince me he wishes an acceptance,” she told herself unhappily.
Her deduction seemed confirmed by Lord Arthur, who turned up for the final hunt. “I’ve been escorting m’mother to her own home for the winter,” he said cheerfully, “and Julian’s been in London—or Portsmouth, perhaps. He’s taken passage for Malta, but still hoping to find a ship going all the way to Greece.”
“Oh? When does he sail?”
“Lud,
I
don’t know—next month, I believe, if nothing arises to hold him in England.” Lord Arthur’s tone held meaning, but unluckily Sharlie missed it. The MFH set the hunt in motion just then, and conversation ended, but throughout the run her heart was despondent. Why, if Imbrie were serious, should he be arranging to travel? Even, she suspected he had relied on Lady Stanwood never to reveal his offer, and she wished her mother had
not.
In the period of thinking it a second chance, Sharlie had admitted Julian was exactly the man she could have loved. Had he been hunting every day, she knew she must have given him some sign of her altered affection, unladylike or not. Now all hope was ended, and for tuppence Sharlie would have pleaded the headache to avoid the ball.
That was not possible. Lord Stanwood would announce Emily’s engagement tonight, it would be Emily’s evening, and Charlotte must forget her unhappiness in sharing Emily’s bliss. Besides, Lord and Lady Alden were entertaining a dinner party of thirty covers; Lord Arthur was to take Sharlie in, and had already bespoke all the waltzes.
The company was nearly assembled by the time Sharlie descended the stairs beside her sister. Emily had never been in greater beauty! Standing beside Eustace, her three-quarter dress of white sarsnet over purest ivory satin was most elegantly displayed against the background of his long-tailed evening coat of bottle green. They were certainly a breath-taking couple, and Sharlie lingered deliberately to enjoy the harmony of guinea-gold curls
a la Meduse,
red-gold curls
a la Brutus
, and two pairs of brilliant blue eyes.
“Quite beautiful, are they not?” The Duke of Imbrie’s deep voice said in her ear, and as she swung about, Charlotte once more met that dark determined flicker in his eyes. “Your servant, Miss Stanwood ... I believe I am to take you in to dinner.”
“No—no, it is Lord Arthur,” she stammered, looking about wildly.
“Oh, he has resigned in my favor.”
“But—but you cannot. It is to set you in quite the wrong seat.”
“So long as it sets me beside you, Miss Stanwood, it matters not where it is.” Julian calmly drew her hand within his elbow and led her forward. “Good evening, Lady Alden. It is kind of you to allow me to deputize for my cousin. Lord Alden, your servant, sir.” The duke moved leisurely among the guests, exchanging greetings and pulling Sharlie along with him—perforce, for every time she sought to withdraw her hand, his elbow tightened. She felt ready to sink, could scarcely find her voice to say “Good evening,” but it was impossible to free herself from that vise-like pressure, until at last they were at table.
For a few minutes they were occupied in choosing from the plentiful first course dishes, but when the soup plates had been succeeded by fillets of trout,
turbot soufflé
, vegetables, and great platters of meats and venison, Julian turned to look at her. “I am glad you are wearing that gown,” he said conversationally. “It is the one you wore at Lady Abercrombie’s on the night I first realized your beauty.”
Sharlie choked uncontrollably and hastily set down her wine glass. “Oh, please do not ... it is unkind in you to speak so to me in the midst of company, milord,” she murmured.
“What alternative do I have—
Sharlie?”
he laughed softly. “When you try to look prim, you are only adorably confused, my love.”
“
Please
—I wish you will not tease me,” she whispered, agonized.
“I am not teasing,” he said after a moment. “You
are
my love, Charlotte. Are you adamant, can I really never be yours?”
“Not,” said Charlotte involuntarily, “if you are going to Malta.”
Julian looked startled. “You have some objection to that island?”
“Not in the least, but it seems a poor start for a romance—unless you believe that absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Why, upon the whole it does,” he said thoughtfully. “I never love England so well as when I am in Calicut or Jamaica. Even Calydon Towers seems bearable—until I have spent a few days there ... but for romance, Greece is the place! I felt sure you would enjoy it, but however, we will go where you choose.”
“I?”
“You and no other,” he said quietly. “Are you still opposed to being a duchess? Must I go to Malta alone, Charlotte?”
“Oh, damme,” said Charlotte forcefully, “you do choose the most devilish moments for proposals!”
His hand dropped beneath the damask and found hers. “Don’t I?” he murmured. “But I was ever impetuous, darling. I cannot wait for another two hours, until I can lure you into the conservatory behind the ballroom—which ten to one will already be occupied. Let me know my Fate at once, dear heart ... and if you want me to kneel in proper form,” he glanced behind him dubiously, “well, I believe there’s sufficient space if the footmen move aside.”
Unconsciously, Sharlie’s fingers moved until their hands clasped gently. “I don’t want you to kneel at all,” she murmured severely. “You would certainly soil your knee-breeches, which would require you to return to Calydon for replacement before luring me into that conservatory, where I trust you mean to kiss me. Oh,” she suppressed a gasp at the strength of his grasp, and went scarlet with sudden awareness of the interested gaze about the dinner table.
“It is yes?”
Beneath his dancing black eyes, Sharlie put up her chin. “How can I resist, milord? I had ever a longing for Greece—to say nothing of kisses.”