The Frost Fair (27 page)

The young man hesitated only a moment. Convinced that women found him irresistible, he moved quickly from a feeling of surprise to the glow of self-satisfaction. As quickly as his high shirt-points and stiff demeanor permitted, he put his arm about her and pressed his lips to hers in a smothering embrace.

“Good
God
, Meggie!” came a voice from the doorway. “Have you lost your
mind?
”

Meg, recognizing the voice, pushed the young man away abruptly and wheeled about. In the doorway, looking absolutely horrified, stood her Aunt Isabel. And as the three gaped at each other, speechless and aghast, the clock in the hallway solemnly struck three.

Chapter Nineteen

The three of them stood staring at each other in shock, each of them having good reason to believe that at least
one
of the others in this room was badly out of place. For Mortimer, it was the aunt, who had arrived at precisely the worst moment and had spoiled what was becoming a very romantic adventure. For Meg, it was also Isabel, whom she'd believed to be idyllically fixed in her own happy world hundreds of miles away. But for Isabel, it was
Mortimer
, who had somehow cajoled her usually sensible niece into behaving in a most uncharacteristic way with the foppish creature whom she would normally have scorned to admit inside her home.

Before any of them uttered a sound, there was a rustle of silks on the stair and Trixie pranced in, resplendent in Meg's lavender gown. “Look, Meg,” she clarioned, floating in prettily, “isn't it just perf—? Oh!” She'd been so absorbed by the enchantment of her own appearance that she hadn't noticed Isabel, standing just inside the door. Her attention was first caught by the shocked expressions on the faces of Meg and Mortimer, but as soon as she noticed Isabel, she understood their astonishment. As for herself, she saw nothing in this little tableau to disturb her. “Mrs.
Underwood,
” she exclaimed happily, “I didn't know you were coming.”

Meg frowned, feeling puzzled and troubled. “It's Mrs. Fraser now, you know. Aunt Bel, what are you doing here?”

Isabel had not yet recovered from the shock of the scene she'd burst in upon. “I might ask the same of you,” she muttered sourly.

Meg, too confused by these surprising circumstances to be able to ascertain how badly her scheme had been muddled, thought it best to silence her aunt on this subject until the two of them were alone. “I suppose you mean to ask what Trixie and Mr. Lazenby are doing here,” she interjected quickly. “I shall explain everything to you in a moment. But first, Trixie dear, may I ask you and Mr. Lazenby to go to … to find Maynard and ask him to see that tea is set up for all of us in … in the drawing room?”

“Perhaps your guests had better look out the window,” Isabel suggested caustically. “If they have far to go, they may not feel that they can take time for tea when they see—”

“Goodness,” Trixie exclaimed, peering outside, “it's snowing!”

“Oh, dear,” Meg muttered, rapidly coming to the end of her rope, “I hope we shan't be foreced to endure another
storm
. Well, Trixie is staying here, you know. And Mr. Lazenby hasn't very far to go. In any case, he will have to wait for Arthur. So do go along, you two, and see to the arrangements for tea. And Trixie, that dress is very lovely. Now that you are looking so very captivating, why don't you and Mr. Lazenby take the opportunity to have a little
tête-à-tête?
It's been days since you've been able to be private, and you both must be eager for the chance.”

Trixie cast Meg a look of hesitation which Meg could not interpret, but the girl obediently left the room. Mortimer followed, but not without glancing at Meg with a look she had no problem at all in interpreting—it was as if he'd said aloud, “I know what you want me to say to her, and for your sake I'll find a way to break her heart and free myself for you.” Meg could only respond by lowering her eyes, but she would have very much liked to wring his neck!

As soon as they were alone, Isabel fixed her with a glaring eye. “Meg Underwood, what were you
thinking
of, permitting that … that countercoxcomb to molest you!”

“He was not molesting me. It would be more accurate to say that I was molesting
him
. But I won't be put off another second.” She crossed quickly to her aunt and gave her an affectionate embrace. “What are you doing here? Is Dr. Fraser with you? Whatever possessed you to come to pay a visit in such dreadful weather?”

“I am not paying a visit,” Isabel said, turning her face away. “And the doctor is not with me. I've left him!”

“
Left
him? Aunt Bel!”

“He's a stubborn, cantankerous, maddening old
wanwyt
, and I want no more to do with him! Here … help me off with this cloak, if you please, or I shall begin to feel that I haven't a place in the world where I'm welcome.”

“But, dearest, I don't understand,” Meg said in bewilderment, taking her aunt's cloak and leading the sad-eyed, tired, chilled woman to a chair near the fire. “You've been married little more than a month! You were so happy! Your letters were brimming with it.”

“Yes, but that was before I found out his true nature. The man's a Bluebeard!”

“Oh, come now, Aunt Bel. Are you trying to make me believe that he has other wives hidden away?”

“Not other wives … other patients! Those patients mean more to him than his … his …” Her eyes began to fill. “His … own w-wife!”

Meg sat down on the hearth at her aunt's feet and took hold of Isabel's hand. “You poor dear. Has the man been neglecting you?”

“He's
shameless
about it. He promises faithfully that he'll return in time for dinner, and then he doesn't arrive till midnight! We dress to go out to a dinner party and half-way through he disappears and I find myself going home
alone
! The truth is that I saw more of the man at Knight's Haven than I did after we were wed. I've even considered contracting a severe case of
consumption
so that he'd pay some attention to me again.”

“But Aunt Bel, aren't you being a bit unfair? If he's dedicated to his work, that's not such a despicable quality, is it?”

Isabel leaned back and shut her eyes wearily. “Meg, I've thought the matter through, and I think, in a way, it
is
a despicable quality. We are neither of us young. The years left to us are probably not many in number. If he chooses to shorten his life even further by overtaxing himself, I do not intend to stand by and watch him do it.”

“But have you tried to reason with him? Have you talked it out?”

“I've tried. He only says, ‘Woman, y're havin' a soor tirrivee owre naught.'”

Meg smiled at her aunt's newly acquired talent for mimicry. She could almost hear Dr. Fraser saying those words. But she couldn't encourage her aunt in this runaway solution to her problem. Isabel clearly cared very much for the man she'd left. “Perhaps if he took on an assistant …”

“I suggested that. But he doesn't trust anyone else to do his work. I even offered to go along with him on his calls, but he wouldn't hear of it. Didn't want me coming down with his patients' illnesses, he said. Though if
he
manages to stay healthy, I don't see why I would not.”

The two of them fell silent, each one watching the flames and thinking her own thoughts. Meg felt less alarmed than she'd been when she first saw her aunt in the doorway. The problem was not insoluble. Meg was certain that she could in time convince her aunt to return to Yorkshire where she belonged. But first, Meg had to untangle the confusion of her
other
problem.

As if Isabel had read her mind, she brought up that very subject. “And now, my dear, tell me why you were kissing that dreadful popinjay. And where, pray tell, is our cousin, Felicia Dinsmore? One would think that in the midst of all this confusion she would—”

In as few words as possible, Meg explained what had happened to the ever-smiling Miss Dinsmore. And then, rapidly changing the subject, she went on to describe to her aunt the plan she'd concocted to make Trixie discover the shortcomings in her betrothed's character. But Isabel, instead of commending her for her cleverness and ingenuity, looked at her with scorn. “It's the most foolish scheme I've ever heard,” the older woman declared. “It seems to me that you've only succeeded in making the fellow believe that you care for him, without in any way showing Trixie that he's false.”

“But that's only because you arrived at just the wrong moment,” Meg declared in her own defense.

“I'm sorry about that,” Isabel said, rising from the chair in offended dignity and frowning at her niece, “but if I
hadn't
interrupted, I have no doubt that Trixie would have believed, when she burst in upon that scene, that the incident was entirely
your
fault. She would have blamed you for wanton flirtatious-ness and would have promptly forgiven her beloved for having momentarily strayed.”

Meg blinked up at her wonderingly. “Do you really think so? Is that what
you
would believe if you'd discovered Dr. Fraser in such a situation?”

“If I had discovered Dr. Fraser in such a situation,” Isabel responded acerbically, “I'd merely assume that he was administering a
medical
procedure—some sort of resuscitation of the breath! And I'd undoubtedly be right!”

Meg burst into a peal of laughter, jumped up and ran to her aunt to plant a kiss on the older woman's cheek. “You know, my love, you sound more and more like the man you married. He must have spent more time with you than you're willing to admit, to judge by how much of his character seems to have rubbed off on you.”

“If you mean to say, Meg Underwood, that I'm beginning to sound like an old curmudgeon, I do not take it as a compliment. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take myself off to bed, provided of course that you haven't given my room away some
other
stray runaway.”

“Your room is, and always will be, waiting for you, my dearest. But must you retire so soon? I need your help in getting myself out of this fix I'm in.”

“It's been a long trip, love,” Isabel said with a wan sigh, “through fog and cold and snow. If I don't get some rest, I really
will
sound curmudgeonly. Besides, you got yourself into this fix without my help, and I have every confidence you'll get yourself out of it that way. I have troubles enough of my own.”

The snow that Isabel brought with her fell thick and fast and lasted for three days. After only a few hours of relief following the fog, the entire city was again immobilized. The snow was so heavy and covered so wide an area that all traffic from the north and west was cut off. Meg, Trixie and Isabel, trapped in the house without prospect of company, tried to make the best of the situation, but the days seemed gloomy indeed. Each of them tried to show the others a cheerful face and to make hopeful conversation, but each had something troublesome on her mind. Isabel brooded over a neglectful husband; Meg struggled to find solutions for two knotty problems; and Trixie, Meg noticed, would lapse into silence or pace about the rooms chewing her fingernails. Meg had no idea what was worrying the girl, but she didn't pry—she'd taken on too many problems already.

But afer a few days the sun appeared, and although it was still frigidly cold, the digging-out began and the traffic began to move. No sooner was it possible to maneuver through the streets than Arthur and Mortimer appeared on the doorstep of the house on Dover Street. The ladies, who had taken to sleeping late during the inactivity of the past few days, were still at breakfast and invited the gentlemen to join them at the commodious round table in the morning room. The two men had risen early and had gone outdoors to investigate what was happening in the world. They were full of news about the fair that was burgeoning along the “roadway” they'd seen on the Thames. “Everyone is talking of it,” Arthur reported, buttering a biscuit. “The roadway that we saw the other day has widened and lengthened. People are calling it Freezeland Street, although there are signs along the route reading ‘City Road.' And there are hundreds of little tents being erected all along the entire length—right in the center of the river from Blackfriar's all the way to London Bridge.”

“Saw a carriage cross the way this morning … with four horses!” Mortimer added, ceasing for a moment his voracious devouring of a large slice of York ham. “Word of honor, four! Most amazing sight I ever saw!”

Trixie was beside herself with excitement. “Oh, I can't
wait
to see it! Is it truly like a
fair.
.. with pie-men and puppeteers and strolling musicians?”

Arthur smiled at her like a fond father. “I don't doubt it. By tomorrow, everything will probably be in full swing. The crowds were enormous even this morning.”

“Tomorrow! How absolutely thrilling! Oh, Meg, we
must
go tomorrow … very early, so that we may spend the entire day!”

“But, Trixie, I
told
you—” Meg began.

“I say, Isabel,” Arthur interrupted impatiently, “have you noticed anything strange about your niece of late?”

“Strange? What do you mean, Arthur?”

“I mean that ever since she's returned from that disastrous sojourn in the north, she's not been herself. She seems to fall into odd humors, she avoids company, she doesn't go to parties, and she even reads
books
! And
now
she wants to spoil our sport at the Frost Fair!”

Isabel perceived that Arthur was speaking half in jest, but she wondered how much of what he said was earnest. “Is any of that true, Meg? Have you been in the dismals and avoiding society?”

“Of course not. Arthur, must you be so provoking? Just because I don't wish to subject myself—or Trixie—to the jostling, the indignities, the vulgarities that will certainly afflict visitors to a public spectacle like a Frost Fair—”