She Walks in Beauty (30 page)

Aunt took advantage of the ride home to chastise me about the evening’s events.

“. . . and you must stop cavorting with the second son.”

“With whom?”

“With Franklin’s brother. Some might think you prefer him to the heir. And no good can come of it. At the next opportunity, you must cut him.”

Cut him! “But … cut Franklin’s own brother?”

“He knows he must give way to the heir, but it seems he needs a reminder.”

“Please, don’t make me—”

“You will do as I have asked.”

Asked? She’d commanded!

As she looked at me, Aunt’s expression seemed to soften. “Besides, it would be kinder. You must not dangle one man while you are angling for another.”

“I’m not
dangling
anyone.”

“Aren’t you?”

Was I? “Of course not.” Of course I wasn’t.

“Good. Then it will make it that much easier for you to do as you must.”

It was with some trepidation that I caught sight of Harry as he was walking down Ladies’ Mile two days later. We had been going from shop to shop, and I had begged to step outside for some air while Aunt settled our accounts.

He lifted his hat as he approached. “Miss Carter.”

I dearly wanted to stop to talk to him, but I knew I could not. Must not. And so I kept my eyes trained on the sidewalk before me as I passed.

“Miss Carter?”

I kept walking. Surely he would understand.

But he did not. “Clara?”

He had said it so loudly that I feared we would attract attention. And so I stopped.

He’d taken off his hat. “What—why—?”

Standing rigid, eyes still trained on the sidewalk in front of me, I leaned slightly in his direction. And when I spoke, it was in whispered words. “I am trying to cut you.”

“Cut me?”

I nodded once and prepared to move on.

“But … wait … what does that mean?”

“I am trying to snub you.”

“Oh. I see.”

But it was quite clear that he didn’t. “So you must not speak to me anymore.”

“Why not?”

I raised my head and turned toward him. “Because I just rebuffed you. I pretended to ignore you. Really, Harry, you ought to be quite humiliated! And I did it here on the sidewalk in front of everyone.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Stop speaking to me!” There. Now maybe he would understand.

“If you insist. But … how long is this
cutting
to last? It sounds quite painful.”

We were starting to gather no little attention. Aunt was right. Better to end it here and now. I couldn’t have him anyway. “It lasts forever. You must remember that I’ve been unspeakably rude to you.”

“Ah. Yes. Unspeakably rude. I’m beginning to understand. In any event, then—”

“You really must stop speaking.” My voice was unaccountably beginning to rise quite beyond the range of our two sets of ears.

“You mean to say forever? We can’t even—”

“Now. You must stop speaking
now
.”

“You would not want to know if, say, a small insect had become entangled in your hair?”

I put a hand up to check. “Why? Has one?”

“No. But in that case, you
would
wish for me to speak.”

“Of course I would wish for you to speak. Has one?”

“No.”

“Really, Harry, tell me!”

“You ask me not to speak to you and then you order me to speak to you? I confess I can’t keep up with all of this social nonsense.”

He was laughing at me. I could see his eyes twinkling.

I glared at him for one long moment and then … I burst into laughter too.

He joined me. And when finally we could speak again, he set his hat atop his head and tipped the brim toward me. “Good day, Miss Carter.”

I nodded. “Good day, Mr. De Vries.”

Aunt came out of the store as Harry was bidding me good-bye. “I thought I told you to cut that boy!”

“I did.”

“Then you must not have done it correctly.”

I hid my smile as I turned from her and continued down the sidewalk. “He refused.”

“He refused what?” Aunt hurried to catch up with me.

“He refused to be cut.” I tried to say the words as if that was all there was to say.

“How could he? It was not his choice. It was yours!”

“How can I cut someone who refuses to be offended?”

“But … what did you do? What did you say?”

I stopped and turned to face her straight on. “I did everything. I didn’t look at him. I failed to speak to him. I told him not to speak to me. But he did not understand and when the cut must be explained … ? It didn’t work.”

I nodded to the doorman of the next store as he pulled the door open for us, leaving Aunt stuttering her disapproval in my wake.

26

AT A PRIVATE ball that evening, Harry and Katherine found me after dinner. He stepped close and began to speak. “I feel that I should apologize for my brother.”

“For what?”

“You tell me. He must have done something.”

I laughed before I could remember not to. “Did you do that often on the Continent? Apologize for him?”

“And pay people to be quiet every now and then too.”

Katherine put a hand to his arm. “Harry!”

“I did.”

Katherine’s husband walked over and offered her his arm. They moved off together, leaving us alone.

“When I read in the paper that the De Vries brothers had scandalized England, terrorized France, and appalled Germany, I assumed they must be talking about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Aren’t younger brothers the irresponsible ones?”

“Only if they have a
responsible
older brother.”

Why did they always have to insult each other? Is this what I had to look forward to? Defending one against the other for the rest of my life? “Franklin isn’t irresponsible. He’s … charming.” He was. He just wasn’t … anything else.

“He can be. When he’s not being ruthless and cunning.”

“He doesn’t seem as bad as that.”

“Ah. But then you’ve never lived with him, have you?”

“You sound jealous.”

“Jealous? No. I used to be. I used to wish that I’d been born first. But then I realized it ineffectual to waste time thinking about who, and what, I wasn’t.”

Like me, I supposed, always wishing I were shorter. Or thinner. Or … better.

“Besides, why should I want all the headaches of the bank and burden of producing an heir? Why would I be jealous of that?”

“Because you’d probably be so much better at it.” My cheeks colored as I realized I had actually spoken my thought.

“Then you’re the only one to think so. And besides, that’s not the life for me.”

No. It wasn’t. He’d be stifled, stultified, if he were condemned to a lifetime of ballrooms and opera houses.

Harry placed a hand to my arm. “Make no mistake. I was born for a purpose. And so were you.”

A purpose. As if there were some grand task for me to accomplish or some great change for me to effect.

“Don’t you believe that?” His eyes were so sober, so serious, as they probed mine.

“Born for a purpose? Some people are, perhaps. But what is there that I can do? Besides dance a waltz or play the piano? And even then . . .”

“Even then?”

“Even then I’m not good enough.”

“Good enough for whom?”

I gestured toward the people that crowded the dance floor. “For them.”

“But they don’t matter.”

I nearly laughed at him.

Harry grabbed my hands. “Don’t you realize? You are exactly the person God intended you to be.”

“Intended?” As if He would have spent time thinking about me. “God can’t have thought of me.”

“Then you were a mistake? Is that what you’re saying?”

Was it?

“God doesn’t make mistakes.” As he looked at me, a smile began to soften his features. “I’m so thankful, Clara, that—”

I laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

He covered it with his own. Just like he’d done with Lizzie’s. It was not the result I had hoped for. I had meant to stop him in his speech. His look had warned me: He was dangerously close to voicing a sentiment that I could never hope to return.

He looked up from our hands, a kind of regret coloring his eyes. “Is he worth it?”

“Who?”

“Franklin.”

What was he asking? And what could I say? “It’s not a question of worth.” If it were, then Harry would have been the object of all my endeavors.

“Then it’s a question of money?” There was something very much like disappointment lurking in his eyes.

“No.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “It’s a question of expectations. And I’m expected to do as my father and aunt request. I have no other choices. I’m a hothouse flower bred for one purpose only: to bloom beautifully enough that someone will pluck me and take me to their home for use in decoration.”

“But couldn’t you just—”

“What? Refuse them? What well-bred girl would do such a thing?” Why couldn’t he understand? Why did he have to insist! Why was it so difficult for him to comprehend the way it all worked?

“There must be another alternative.”

“Of course. I could declare myself independent. Only how would I support myself? I don’t know how to do anything. Nothing useful, anyway. I can sing and I can play the piano, but I’m no soloist. I can talk to someone for nearly an hour even if they never respond, but why would anyone wish to hire me for that? I might teach, but I’ve never had the chance to go to a teachers college. Who would hire me? What choice do I have, Harry?” Really, I had none. And if I hadn’t known it before, I did now.

“You could marry someone else. You could marry for love.” His hand tightened around my own.

“Yes. I could elope. And ruin my reputation forever. Whomever I wed myself to would never thank me for such a tainted dowry. And it would ruin him as well.” How dare he speak to me of love!

“But … if there weren’t any impediments?”

I looked him in the eyes. And as I did, my anger was eclipsed by great sadness.

“If you
could
choose . . .”

“Ah! Mr. De Vries.”

Harry’s gaze broke from mine. He dropped my hand as he turned toward Aunt.

If I
could
choose? If I could choose … But what other choice could I make than the one that had been made for me?

Such great sadness.

After I had danced with Franklin, and a Lorillard, and a Vandermere, I decided to spend my intermission with Aunt, by the piano in the parlor. My head was hurting, and I needed the relative silence that the room offered.

It was there that Harry found me. Again. And I can’t say that my heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

He gestured toward the piano. “Can you play by sight?”

“Yes.” Of course I could play by sight. I’d spent hours and hours, days … weeks … at the piano over the years, practicing anything my instructor placed in front of me.

“Would you play a duet with me, then?” He withdrew a composition from his coat. “It’s a new one. From Italy.”

I had made myself plain, earlier in the evening, hadn’t I? He couldn’t have failed to understand how things must be. But still, I gave him a long look before agreeing. And then I gathered my skirts with a hand and slid up the bench so he could take a seat beside me.