She Walks in Beauty (41 page)

“Franklin De Vries is your only hope. Now is the time. You must not fail.”
My aunt’s voice, low and vehement, reverberated through my head. My nebulous thoughts had grown even more hazy with Franklin’s kisses. Wouldn’t it just be easiest to give him what he wanted? And wasn’t that the only certain way to get what I needed?

36

I RODE HOME in the carriage in silence, then slunk up the stairs and into my bed, pulling the covers right up over my head. I closed my eyes, wishing I could blot the night’s … events … from my memory. How would I be able to face Franklin tomorrow? And the next day? And the day after that? My skin still scorched where he had kissed me. My cheeks still burned where his whiskers had scratched me. And how long had we stayed, secluded, in that little room?

I wondered if Harry had noticed.

Who cared if Harry had noticed?

Oh, I hoped that Harry had noticed!

But still … if one could die of shame, then I would be dead, right now, at this moment, standing in front of St. Peter, gathering my soiled raiment around me.

Aunt would know. Of course she would know. Probably already knew. She would guess in that uncanny way she had. She would guess and she would give voice to her suspicions and then how would I deny it? How could I?

“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?”

Hadn’t she made herself abundantly clear?

Then why had I bungled it?

Why couldn’t I have just done the thing she had asked me to do?

In spite of what she had said, in spite of being quite clear about the strategy I was to employ, I had refused him. And not only had I not given him liberty, I had slapped him in the process—finally and completely—refusing his advances.

Hadn’t I done what any decent girl would do?

But I was no decent girl. I was a girl with a charlatan for a father. A girl pretending that she had a right to a debut. A girl who was just trying to do as she was told to do. A girl with no options, save one. And even knowing that, I had refused him. I had kept my virtue and I had given up everything else. Girls didn’t have choices; they had directives.

I should have done as Aunt had told me to do. As Father had wished me to do.

And even more.

I slept well past breakfast and dressed hastily for lunch, stopping in to check on Father on my way down the stairs. Aunt was waiting for me in the dining room. My bowl of bouillon had barely been placed before me when she spoke.

“Did he propose?”

“No.”

She frowned. Dipped her spoon down into the soup, away from her. Brought it to her mouth and took a sip. “I don’t think I can keep our secret for much longer.”

“And I don’t actually think he
will
be proposing.”

The spoon slipped from her fingers and landed with a
plunk
in the bowl. The butler moved to take the bowl from her. She slapped at his hand. “I haven’t yet finished!”

He bowed. “Forgive me, madam.”

She picked up the spoon and placed it on the plate beneath the bowl, glaring at the butler while she did so. “I have
not
finished. Perhaps you need a pair of spectacles.”

The butler’s face colored.

She swung her gaze back to me. “Now then. You don’t think Mr. De Vries will propose. Why not?”

I said nothing.

“Has he already asked for Lizzie’s hand? I thought you had pushed her out of the way.”

“I did. I had.”

“Then what is it? If there is no one else then … you must have given him some reason not to propose.”

I began to chew on the inside of my lip.

“What did you do?”

“It wasn’t what I did.” It’s what I didn’t do.

“Then what was it?”

“He asked me … to do something. I didn’t want to do it.”

“You didn’t want—? You stupid, foolish girl!” The dogs at her feet began to bark. “I presume he asked you to sacrifice your virtue.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Why would I want to admit to such a shameful thing? Why would I wish for her to know what he thought he might have had?

“What is virtue compared to fortune? Didn’t you understand? I told you he
must propose
.” Spittle flew from her lips. “How many chances do you think you’ll get to marry the De Vries heir?”

“Franklin.”

“Franklin?”

“His name is Franklin.” He was a person, not a faceless fortune.

“I don’t care if his name is Methuselah! What have you done? And more—can you undo it?”

“No!” I hoped all the horror and shame I felt showed in my eyes. Undo it? Why, that meant … !

Aunt worked up a smile. Reached out to rest a heavy hand upon my own. “No, no. I don’t mean … what you think it is that I mean. I just meant, might you be able to provide the opposite impression? Make him understand that at a different time or other place … ?”

“Like … in Newport during the summer?”

“Exactly. In exchange for a proposal.”

“Give him to understand that of course I would gladly give myself to him if we are soon to be married?”

“Would that be so difficult?”

It shouldn’t be that difficult. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t do as I was expected to? Especially now, since Father’s fit, when my entire future rested on my shoulders alone. This path, the path that Aunt had laid out, was the plainest. The simplest. The most expedient. Why couldn’t I just do it? “I don’t want to marry him. I want something more.” I wanted someone like Harry. Not Harry himself, of course. He was set on Lizzie. But someone like him. There must be someone else like him. Somewhere. I wanted something more even if it happened to be much less in material terms.

“Something more?” Her face softened and her eyes hardened in the same instant. “I suppose you’re waiting for true love.”

I felt my chin lift. “And what if I am?”

“Let me tell you a secret: True love is an illusion spun for young girls to seduce them into marriage. It’s nothing but a myth.”

“It is not!”

“And I assume you derive your proof from all of those novels and poetry you’re always reading.”

I did. In part. “Perhaps. But even reason tells me there ought to be more.”

“There ought be, yes. That I concede. But there’s not. True love gets girls to the altar, and after it is reality that takes them by the hand and leads them away. So it’s better not to look for it. Much more practical for everyone concerned. There’s no disappointment that way. Marrying Mr. De Vries would save you from all kinds of disenchantment.”

“And all manner of happiness.” I shoved away my plate and rose to my feet.

“If that’s what you’re waiting for, you’ll be waiting forever!”

“It’s worth the wait.”

Aunt rose to follow me. “Don’t be a fool! Don’t throw away everything for nothing. For some hopeless longing for a fantasy.”

“It’s not a fantasy.” It couldn’t be a fantasy.

“And what if you never find it?” Her voice had followed me out into the front hall.

At least I will have looked.

Of course, there were still dinners and operas and private balls to attend. But what little interest I once had in the season was gone. I felt … cheapened. Exposed by my actions with Franklin.

Though Aunt still held out hope for some reconciliation, I did not. But still, I wished … I wished that I could take back that time in the valet’s room. That he had even asked for what he had indicated that he had sensed in me some ambivalence. That he had asked indicated that he thought it might be a distinct possibility. And it was that which shamed me most of all.

Because it was true.

Had I not been afraid, I might have wavered. Might, actually, have bent to his demands. Had I any virtue, it was that of timidity. And what sort of virtue was that? Surely no trait that I took pride in possessing.

But at least there was still Harry to talk to.

Since I had been told of Father’s deceit, my feelings toward Harry had changed. My wounded heart had experienced a miraculous healing. Since, as it had turned out, I had never been worthy of his attentions, I found myself simply grateful for his friendship. His and Katherine’s both. Their kind regard was nothing I deserved.

Especially since Franklin had finally and exclusively turned his attentions toward Lizzie. He couldn’t claim every dance on her card, of course, but those he did claim were danced with a certain telling intimacy. And during intermissions, it was she alone to whom he spoke, while Mrs. Barnes looked on with ill-concealed delight.

Harry brought me a cup of punch during one such intermission. I was grateful to turn my eyes from the spectacle of their happiness in order to focus on him. But I wondered … how did he feel? To be dropped so suddenly and completely by Lizzie? It was a poor way to treat a man so gracious and considerate. I smiled at him. “Thank you, Harry. You’re too kind.”

“Then perhaps I could ask you a personal question. Did something happen between you and Franklin?” He was trying to catch my glance.

I smiled. Refused to let him. “No.”

“Are you sure? Because if—”

Beside us, one of the Remstell girls barked a laugh. A moment later, her companions joined in. I leaned toward Harry so that my voice could be heard. “Nothing happened. Can you believe it’s almost the end of the season? It seems as if it just started.”

“Clara?”

I surrendered. I had to look at him if I were to have a chance at convincing him. And he would never stop questioning me if I didn’t. “I’m fine, Harry. Truly, I am.” But why should he care so much? If anything, he should be alarmed at Franklin’s new attachment to Lizzie. I drank up the last of the punch and then held out my cup toward him. “Would you be so kind?”

“Of course. If you’re sure … ?”

“I’ve had plenty, thank you.”

He frowned at my misinterpretation, but I relied upon the fact that he was too much a gentleman to press his question any further.

Aunt appeared the moment Harry had gone. “What are you doing? Go over there to the heir. Take him away from Lizzie!”

I shook my head.

“You must at least try. After all these weeks! After all our work.”

There was really no point. And Harry was on the approach. I deployed my fan and wafted her concerns away, determined to stay my own course.

37

I TRIED TO avoid Harry at church the next day. When I did happen to look in his direction it was only from habit. Only because I had forgotten myself, forgotten my situation. I tried to immerse myself in the sermon instead. And the hymns.

“Just as I am, tho’ tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

Tears threatened to leak from my eyes. It was Mama’s song! I surreptitiously drew a handkerchief from my reticule and dabbed at my eyes as I glanced around the pews. Thank goodness no one was watching.

“Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

What if, as Mama had said, God loved us just as we were? What if He loved
me
? Without affectation or pretension? Without corsets or hoop skirts? What if He didn’t care whether I knew how to cut someone or if I had mastered the waltz? Just the thought of it, the notion of it, threatened to undo me. For a love such as that would be an unthinkable extravagance. And if I could believe God loved me in that way … why, it would change everything!

“Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

If I closed my eyes, I could imagine her standing beside me, singing in her clear, bell-toned voice. The voice of my childhood. Not the one of her later years that came out breathless in raspy whispers. When I was a child, Mama had the best voice of all the members in the church. She had loved to sing. Her words had soared like an angel’s over the swells of the organ. In fact, I now suspected, her entire theology had been taken from the hymnal. Any care, any concern that I had voiced, had found its answer within the verses of a hymn.