She Walks in Beauty (40 page)

That someone had to be me.

There was no one else who could influence my future. If there was to be any hope of anything at all, for any of us, it would have to be me who secured it.

Besides, Franklin wasn’t complaining, was he? And hadn’t I learned how to manage him while Lizzie had been laid up in bed? When he talked about himself, which was almost always, his words soon blended into a monotone buzz through which I could think or dream of anything I wished. And as long as someone was talking, what did it matter who it was? He was content to be talking, I was content not to be listening, and both of us were happy.

Or very nearly so.

Did I feel bad about it? About my betrayal?

Of course I did! I had made a promise to a friend.

But it had been a hasty promise, made by a naive young girl. How could anyone expect such a promise to be kept? How could Lizzie expect such a promise to be honored? If she had any sense at all, she would have made a play for Franklin long ago. In fact … hadn’t she? Hadn’t she been the one he’d invited to the skating pond? Hadn’t she been the first to break our promise?

I picked up my box of needlework, found my project, and began thrusting the needle through it. The jab and pull of thread through canvas usually served to calm my nerves. And this time was no exception.

Franklin. Lizzie. Me.

A triangle thrown out of equilibrium.

But Lizzie didn’t need Franklin as much as I did. He was my only prospect. Hadn’t she dozens of suitors waiting in the wings? Hoping for even one word or a smile? And if I got Franklin, then Lizzie could have Harry. Isn’t that what she wanted anyway?

Sometimes life wasn’t fair. Sometimes you had to take what you could get. And if I had broken our promise, then hadn’t I already been punished? Wouldn’t I be spending the rest of my life married to Franklin?

I could think of no worse reward.

Thursday came quickly. It was a cold, dreary day, the sky pregnant with snow. Flakes began to drift down about noon. And by three o’clock, all the world was white. I didn’t relish going out into that blizzard just to talk to Lizzie. As I glanced out the window, it occurred to me that she probably wouldn’t relish the thought either. And really, why would she brave such a cold trip through the garden just to talk to me?

She wouldn’t. I was sure she wouldn’t.

The clock chimed half past three and still I sat in my chair, doing needlework.

But at quarter of four, I wandered to the window and stood for a moment, looking out toward the hedge. I thought I saw a flash of blue along the wall. I blinked. When I looked again, it had gone.

We were to attend an opera that evening and then a dinner party afterward, which would be hosted by Mr. and Mrs. De Vries. I thought long and hard about marriage to Franklin that afternoon. If I didn’t marry him, then what else would I do? Marry some other young man? Which other young man? Aunt had dispensed with all of my other prospects. And this late in the season, they would have set their sights on some other girl. Perhaps I could become a Miss Miller to some young charge. A girl of ten or twelve. I wouldn’t mind doing such a thing. But who would I give as a reference? And what right had I to claim that I could teach anyone anything at all?

No, my only worth came from my position here, in the middle of society, and it would all be taken from me if I didn’t act quickly enough. And further, Aunt was right. I had given Franklin every reason to suspect that I favored Harry. I only had a few days left to correct that impression. A few days left before Father’s illness was discovered.

On the drive to the De Vrieses’ I decided to ask Aunt for advice. “What’s the surest way to get a man to ask you to marry him? I have waited long enough. I want to be engaged. To Franklin.”

“I do not blame you. Well. There are certain things any man wants. He may not have them, of course. Not until after a wedding. But the thought of possessing them might just spur him on to proposing. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Did I? I wasn’t quite … “Yes. Yes, I do.”

I was determined that night not to think about, not even to look at, Harry. If my thoughts veered from my mark for just one moment, the pain was too searing, the sense of loss too great. It must be this same ache that Katherine bore within her heart.

The party did not start until after the opera. And the Vandermeres were giving a tea in advance of the De Vries dinner. So it was not until half past eleven that I expected dinner to be served. My head was spinning, and not from the task I had placed before myself; I had not eaten since breakfast. And I did not plan on eating at dinner either. I did not want to chance another episode like the one at Lizzie’s. Not on the night I was hoping to secure a proposal.

Franklin smiled when he saw me enter the De Vrieses’ ballroom. He winked and then he inclined his head toward the back corner of the room.

I put a hand out to Aunt’s arm. “Franklin wishes to speak.”

“Then by all means, go! Where is he?”

“Over there, by the palms. In the corner.”

“Then I will escort you to the refreshments table. And if you leave me quickly enough to join him, your absence will not be noted.”

We did as Aunt suggested, and very soon I was holding Franklin’s hand, being tugged down a dark, narrow servants’ hallway. And then, down even narrower stairs into darkness. They ended before I was prepared. I stumbled into him and then right past him as I lost his hand.

“Franklin?”

“Just here.”

He had turned toward me. I knew it when he grasped both of my hands in his. And still he pulled me forward.

“But … Franklin? It’s so dark. Where are you?”

He pulled me sharply to the left and then dropped both of my hands. I heard the sound of a match being struck and then a flame flared. In the haziness of that sudden light, the silhouette of his face began to spin in and out of focus.

“I always used to come here, to my valet’s room, when I didn’t want anyone to know what I was doing. Or what I had done.”

The guttering flame of the taper illuminated first a bed and simple chair. And then, in the next moment, Franklin’s face. The flame had put a smolder to his cheeks and a blaze in his eyes.

My teeth found the inside of my lower lip.

“And I’ve done a great many things in my day, though none of them I’ve done with you. It’s a shame. Since I’ve decided I’d like to know you better.” He sat on the bed and leaned back against the wall, smiling up at me, light reflecting from his teeth. “Say something.”

“I confess I don’t know what to say.”

“Then do something.” His eyes! As he looked at me it seemed he knew something about me that I did not.

“Do … what?”

“You can come here for a start.”

I walked toward him, dreading … I knew not what.

“Sit.” He patted the bed beside his thigh.

The bed was so low to the ground that I knew I could not attempt it. Not in my corset. And definitely not with it so tightly laced. “I can’t.”

He sighed. “Surely you aren’t stuck on your own morality like all those other girls.”

“I did not say I wouldn’t. I said I
couldn’t
.”

“Couldn’t?”

“Can’t. Because of . . .” Because of my corset. I couldn’t bend at the waist, and since it was so long, it was difficult to bend at my hips. I could do nothing but stand, and if a chair were placed high enough and shoved into my knees by a waiter, I could sit. With some trouble. Surely he could understand without my having to say it. What decent girl spoke of corsets and other unmentionables in polite conversation?

He pushed to his feet, coming to stand quite close to me. “You can’t. But you didn’t say you wouldn’t.” His face was hidden in a shadow now. Somehow it was much nicer to listen to his voice than it was to look into his eyes.

“No. I didn’t.”

Before I knew what he was about, he had picked me up and swept me into his arms. My head began to spin once more, but then he sat down with me upon the mattress. And within the solid enclosure of his arms, my vision began to clear. I closed my eyes and leaned back against his shoulder in relief.

He nuzzled his nose into my cheek. The bite of the stubble of his whiskers on my neck was pleasantly scratchy.

He began nibbling at my ear.

I moved my head away from him so that my skin would stop going numb.

He used the opportunity to plant a kiss on my neck. His kisses had only ever been on my cheek. And rather chaste. This kiss was not.

“Franklin!”

“I could devour you.”

“Franklin, please.”

“I just want a taste of you.” He pushed my sleeve farther down my shoulder and his mouth dipped lower, trailing kisses along my arm.

A shiver shot up my spine and a curl of fear whipped through my stomach.
“There are certain things any man wants … the thought of possessing them might just spur him on to proposing.”

“Clara or Lizzie? Lizzie or Clara? You can’t expect me to decide between you without a small sample. Let me see you. Let me touch you.” His grip on my waist relaxed, but then his hand found my glove and he began to roll it down my arm.

My skin prickled as my flesh, released from its sheath, met air. “Really, Franklin . . .”

He drew it down with one last swift roll and set my fingers free.

I pressed them against his cheek and tried to gently turn his head away.

But he captured them with his hand and interlaced my fingers with his own.

“Stop—I have to tell you something!” My own words surprised me.

“What is it? And, please, tell me it’s something I’d want to hear. Something worth the interruption.”

“I said something … I spread a rumor about you. Me and—” No. I wouldn’t implicate Lizzie in my crime.

“And what rumor was that?”

“I told everyone … well, only several people, and they told everyone else, but it’s my fault still because I knew they were going to. I planned on it.”

Franklin was watching me, brows raised.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And while they were closed I felt Franklin begin to kiss my neck again. “I told them you were sterile.”

He stopped kissing me. But he immediately started to laugh.

“Don’t—why are you laughing?”

“You told them I was sterile? Why?”

“Because … I … wanted you for myself.” Lies! Again!

“Really?” He said it as if this revelation were monumental. “You wanted me for yourself.”

I nodded. But only because it made me dizzy to shake my head.

“Then you can have me.” He leaned forward over the voluminous pleats and tucks of my gown and kissed me full on the lips.

“But—you aren’t upset?”

He gave me one more kiss. “Upset? It depends on what you used for the cause.” He caught my face up in his hands and planted a kiss on my nose. “I couldn’t think why, all of a sudden, all the girls began avoiding me. But it was just you. Telling a lie so that you could have me all to yourself. I hadn’t thought you had it in you.”

“Had what?”

“Such a clever capacity for deviousness. And deceit.” He slid his hands down my bare arms and linked his hands with my own. “Someone, somewhere, is going to start to miss you soon. So … what do you say … ?”