The Imaginary Gentleman (26 page)

Laura caught his arm, saying, “Have a care, Richard.”

She looked everywhere but at him, and the silence between them was filled with the screaming of gulls and the impatient slap of waves against the breakwater. In this place, the danger of her frailty of mind seemed blown off by the salt wind. Here she felt her fears for her sanity loosen their sinewy hold on her mind.

There would be advantages in this marriage, she thought. Yet I would pay a price for them. What will it cost me—and him?

This she felt even without facing the evidence that Sir Richard was falling in love with someone else. Pure gallantry had him determined upon a course that was now so little adapted for his own happiness.

“Dear Richard,” she said. “I have treated you cruelly and selfishly in entering into this engagement, and hope that you will forgive me.”

“Laura—do not speak so.”

“I beg you to release me.” She could say no more.

“Be truthful, now, Laura. Do you do this only for my own happiness? Do you imagine I have been so dishonourable as to consider another while engaged to you?”

She took a deep breath and calmed herself.

“You
consider
another? No, Richard. There is no more honourable man than you. Should I ever marry—unlikely as it seems—it cannot be to a better man.”

Laura noted a curious lightening of his expression, and sensed that a ripple of relief washed over him.

He said, “You shall be free and I shall not.”

“That is too much altogether! I do not accept it.” Her tone was calm and firm; she felt in control for the first time in weeks.

“Then it shall be as you wish.”

He offered her his arm, indicating the way back to the inn, but she shook her head.

“I wish to be alone for a few minutes, Richard. Do you very much mind?”

“Not at all. I shall go to the stable and take a look at Betsy.”

With a vague feeling of anxiety, Sir Richard left Laura and went back towards the inn. His concern about leaving her alone was not
for her mind—somehow he felt sure that all was well in that regard—what he feared was Elspeth's anger.

He went instead to find his coachman, Jenkins, in Betsy's stall, binding up her leg while an ostler held her head. Another fellow lounged against the horse box.

“Hullo, Jenkins, my good man!” Sir Richard boomed out in a jocular tone.

“Hullo, sir,” his coachman said. “Betsy's leg's a-strained, Sir Richard, that's all, I think. She'll need a few days rest.”

“Excellent,” said the baronet, and turned to the man holding the mare's head. “Are you in agreement?”

“Yes, sir, but I axed Jos Creeley here to come and have a look-see. He agrees.”

Sir Richard turned to the other man. “Very kind, I'm sure.” He pulled out his purse and handed the man a coin.

“Thank'ee, sir.”

At the sight of the baronet's purse, a stable boy moved out from the shadows, looking as wise as he might.

“You are young Jem, I suppose.”

“No, sir, if you want Jem—he's far off at Mr. Whichale's.”

“Hold your tongue,” said Creeley.

“At Mr. Whichale's, you say?” said Sir Richard. He vaguely felt the peculiarity of the coincidence; then shook his head.

“It was just a name that popped into my head. I'm more interested in my horse.”

“I'll be off. 'Tis a busy day at the Lion,” said Creeley.

 

Meanwhile, Laura stepped onto the top of the Cobb, turning her face into the salt wind. She went sure-footedly along the top of the breakwater, until she reached the furthest point from land.

Wind whipped her skirts about her ankles. Salt tingled on her lips and her eyes shone. Laura gazed out at the splendours of the sea. It was the first time she had been alone, out of doors, in two long months. Every final doubt in herself, every irritation at the imprisonment of the past weeks, seemed blown out of her by the tangy wind.

They tried to tell me I was crazed, she thought. They almost drove me mad. She looked back to the place by the Assembly Rooms, where she dreamed she stood in the wind that day with Mr. Templeton, marvelling over the way the sun lit the backs of the waves.

She thought of the letter. Perhaps it was not such a perplexing mystery. If the gossips invented a tale of clandestine correspondence, the destruction of her reputation in Lyme was explained.

In any case, she thought, it would make no material difference to her life if Mr. Templeton proved to be real. He had taken himself beyond her reach anyway.

Looking again at the surging sea beyond the bay, Laura knew her tears were already shed. She felt at last free of pain; she felt free.

E
LSPETH LOOKED UP EXPECTANTLY AS
Laura came back from her walk; then frowned. “Where is my cousin?” she asked.

“Richard has gone to the stables to look at his lame mare.”

“He might have waited upon me first.”

“You make him sound like a neighbour, returned after a long absence.”

“I want to hear the news from you both,” said Elspeth.

Laura did not reply, but went into her bedroom, locking the door. Once inside, she sank upon the edge of the bed, absently untying her bonnet and placing it beside her. Slowly, she unbuttoned her coat, sorting out her feelings, because her relief at ending the engagement was tempered by her dread of the coming conflict. She heard Elspeth's tap upon the door, tentative at first, then more insistent. The handle turned uselessly for the door was locked.

“Laura, pray unlock your door, dearest. I would speak with you.”

“Not now, Elspeth. I wish to be alone.”

“This is your sister, Laura.”

“I know this, strange as it might appear. Please leave me.”

The handle rattled, softly, persistently. Laura smiled, imagining her sister longing to call out loudly, only held back by her fear of others' curiosity. The rattling stopped, to be replaced by Elspeth's sugary whispers.

“I am in an agony of fear over you, dear. What are you doing?”

Laura went to the door and said, “Pray do not take on, Elspeth. I wish to have a few minutes to myself.”

“Very well then,” sniffed Elspeth.

She was offended. Good, thought Laura. If I am in luck, she'll not speak to me for hours.

Sarah tapped on her door a little later and was admitted, with her mistress's pressed dinner gown. Preparations for the evening had
begun, and Laura knew she was safe from Elspeth's interference for a time.

At dinner, Elspeth found Sir Richard nervous, and Laura suspiciously light in mood. She made an elegant little grimace to Lady Clarydon. It was clear to her that a rupture had occurred between the engaged couple. After dinner, she secluded herself in her room and wrote to her brother.

With cold dignity, the lady handed the letter to the baronet, saying, “Will you
kindly
arrange for this letter to be sent express,
at once
, to my brother's house in Cornwall?”

The lady's tone struck a chill in Sir Richard's heart and he hurried downstairs, casting many a worried glance upon the letter.

 

The next morning, Laura awoke feeling at once a lightness of spirit. She had no view of the sea from her window, but nevertheless sat at her desk, wrapped in a warm shawl, working on her old drawings of the sea. The sense of missing elements teased her no longer, and she used her colours to put a hint of yellow in a black cloud, a glitter on the top of a dark wave. Engrossed, she found time went by quickly and she had to hurry to be ready for breakfast.

As Laura entered the dining parlour, the rest of the party, which had assembled already, turned and stared at her.

The countess said, “You are in good looks today, Miss Morrison. The air in Lyme agrees with you.”

“Is it the
air
that brings about this change, Laura?” said Elspeth.

“I was not aware that I was any different.” She had no way of knowing how the sense of deliverance within was reflected in her manner, her eyes, her every movement.

Elspeth looked from her sister to the baronet, where he sat, his eyes shifting about, and fixed upon Mrs. Bell.

“What think you, Mrs. Bell? Are not my sister's looks out of the common today?”

Mrs. Bell swallowed. “Yes,” she ventured.

“In what way do her looks please
you
, Mrs. Bell?”

“You tease our friend, Sister,” said Laura.

“Yes,” said Sir Richard, with a sharpness that took Elspeth aback. “Let us leave it that Laura looks very well.”

Elspeth gave him a look of incredulity; then smiled sweetly.

The countess said, “There is to be an Assembly on Tuesday. Miss Morrison will steal all the attention with these wonderful looks.”

“I faithfully promise to share the gentlemen,” said Laura.

“I thank you for the favour,” said Elspeth. “I must find some lace to trim my new silk—I am not at all content with it. After breakfast, let us away to the haberdasher's and see what we can find.”

“You will join us, Sir Richard?” said the countess.

“No … no,” he replied.

“No?” said Elspeth.

“I regret that I am called away on business this morning,” said the baronet.

Elspeth looked at him in plain disbelief. “I will not ask what business so strangely comes your way so far from home, Sir Richard.”

The baronet shortly made his excuses and left them. Elspeth watched from the window as he went around to the stables.

“I wonder where he is going,” she said.

Far away from you, thought Laura. She laughed to herself dryly—and from me. She could not imagine there was a woman present with whom he felt at ease just now. Perhaps he even feared Mrs. Bell's
society. How fortunate he was—by virtue of being a man, he could leap upon a horse and gallop away alone. He could clatter along paths that afforded him a new view at every turn; then put his feet upon the fender in an inn somewhere.

“We shall pass a very pleasant morning by ourselves,” said the countess. “What will you wear to the ball, Miss Morrison?”

“My white gown with the emerald silk overskirt.”

“Delightful! I rather fancy you in a turban, with a delicious green feather. What think you?”

“I am in the mood for novelty—so I will say yes!” said Laura.

“Let us go on the hunt!” said the countess, getting up from the table.

Seeing Mrs. Bell rise, Elspeth said, “You too, Mrs. Bell? I hoped you would make out the pattern for that little piece of ribbon embroidery I showed you.”

A quick glance at the countess's expression confirmed for Mrs. Bell that it would be in her interest to please her patroness's friend. She picked up the fashion magazine and her workbasket and settled at the table.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, the landlord bowed the three ladies out, shooing an urchin off the step. They briefly viewed the sea; then set off up the street to the haberdasher's. As they went off, all arm-in-arm, Laura felt the difference from her treatment in September. Lady Clarydon was well known in the little place, having accompanied her husband on his visits to take the seaside cures, and they were acknowledged with bows and bobs.

Material for a turban was discovered, as were feathers. Lady Clarydon insisted upon buying a pair of gloves for each of her friends—elegant white kid for Laura to do justice to her attire at the Assembly, and sky blue for Elspeth, to match her eyes. Elspeth discovered her all-important lace.

Leaving the haberdasher to wrap up their purchases, they set of for Swan's, where Elspeth hoped to find the latest novels arrived.

“I must discover if Mr. Swan has Mrs. Debell's new book,” said Elspeth. “I hear it is to be full of horrors.”

They soon discovered the precious volume, being unwrapped at the very moment they entered the library. Already Mr. Swan had a list of ladies awaiting the thrilling tome, but the countess preceded them, as a matter of course.

“I'm terrified already!” she said, as they went into the street.

They paused for a moment near the sea wall, where the stiff breeze caught at their bonnets and blew their skirts about. Lady Clarydon held her hat with one hand and fumbled with her disobedient skirt, squealing with laughter.

“Is this not the greatest fun, my dears?” she said.

Laura turned away and looked across the pallid and choppy harbour. In the distance, she made out a fisherman standing on the lower level, coiling up the thick rope that lay there still. Suddenly it spun out through the air, until it splashed, with a small spray of foam, near a fishing boat.

“What interests you, dear Laura?” said Elspeth.

“Just a rope, snaking through the air.”

“You have the most peculiar taste, my love,” said Elspeth. “I must say this wind is frightful!”

“The seaside is nothing when there is no wind!” declared Laura.

“Such fun!” said Lady Clarydon. “What a trio of frights we must look, all blown about.”

Just then, a young officer in the blue uniform of the Royal Artillery appeared, striding towards the lane that led along the side of the Assembly Rooms and onto the path around the bay. His eyes registered first an admiration of Elspeth, then widened in a startled homage to the beauty of the countess. His glance almost slid past Laura, but he caught her eye and paused. She wondered for a moment who he could be, then remembered her introduction to him at the Assembly on her last visit to Lyme.

“Why, Mr …. Reece!” She quickly took in his rank. “Lieutenant Reece, good morning.”

“Good morning, Miss Morrison. I hope you are well?”

The other ladies looked at Laura's acquaintance with interest. A little below Laura's height, he had an excellent figure, well displayed in
his regimentals. His hazel eyes shone with health and with warm interest as he exchanged pleasantries with Laura. Glancing at the countess, Laura surmised that she would be happy for an introduction.

“Lady Clarydon, may I present Lieutenant Reece? This is the Countess of Clarydon.” He bowed, gentlemanlike but naturally—with no worldly flourish—as Laura recalled thinking when she met him at the Assembly.

“Let us take a walk to the church,” said the countess. The lieutenant declared this to be exactly what he desired. Laura made way for the other ladies to each take an arm of the young officer, and followed them. The lieutenant spoke of his meeting with Miss Morrison, half-turning to say, “You owe me a dance still, madam, and I shall by no means release you. Pray stand on notice of it, next time we meet in a ballroom.”

Over her shoulder, Elspeth gave her sister a glance of pretended disapproval. “I hope you have not been cruel to this gentleman, Laura.”

“Oh, she is not to be blamed,” said Mr. Reece. “The lady who accompanied her was taken ill so Miss Morrison had no choice but to desert us.”

He stopped walking and faced her, the others turning too so that they stood in a group. “How thoughtless of me, Miss Morrison,” he said. “I did not enquire after your friend. I hope she is well?”

“Mrs. Gurdon? No, I am afraid … I am sorry to say that Mrs. Gurdon has died.”

He saw at once that she felt pained by the reminder. He gently extricated his right arm and extended his hand to her. “Pray accept my condolences, madam. I see that the lady was a valued friend.”

“Thank you, sir. Mrs. Gurdon was my aunt's neighbour. They were the best of friends.”

Elspeth gave a half-sob. “Our aunt is stricken with grief. The loss of such a friend can almost rival the death of a sister.”

“Indeed.” Distracted by the memory, Laura began to walk ahead, without further comment, momentarily forgetting the countess's right of precedence.

Elspeth looked affronted and called, in a loud whisper, “Laura!” Her sister, several paces ahead, did not hear her but the countess did.

“Do not fret, my dear Mrs. Evans,” she said. “Your sister is thinking of her old friend. Let her have a few moments away from my nonsense.”

“You are very good.”

“I very much like to be thought so.”

The lieutenant bowed and the two beauties each took an arm again, as they walked on some way behind Laura. The party stopped to admire St Michael's church, which Elspeth could barely refrain from disparaging; the congregation here held no fears for her now.

They turned back, the countess and Mrs. Evans quite enraptured with their new companion, and Laura was free to indulge her own thoughts. Mr. Reece's reminder of their introduction had brought Mrs. Gurdon back to mind, and details of the ball returned. She tried to remember what Mrs. Gurdon said of young Mr. Reece. She recalled he had created a buzz of interest when he entered the Assembly Room. Oh, yes!

“I was surprised to see you appear before us in regimentals, sir!” she said.

“Why? I have always had a yearning for the military life. I join my regiment shortly and have only time to stay one night with my uncle and aunt.”

“You are to be praised for your devotion to them.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Whichale love me as their own son, I would say.”

It came back to Laura. It is as they said, she thought. I must indeed have heard the name of Mr. Whichale at the Assembly. Everyone was talking about Mr. Reece. I forgot because—well, I just forgot.

“My Aunt Whichale has an affectionate nature,” said Mr. Reece. “Her two daughters are both well-married and far off. Mrs. Whichale misses them sorely, as does their father, and I must do to fill the breach.”

“I imagine you serve that purpose very well indeed,” said the countess.

The young man bowed, his face expressing that gratification that the countess's smiles always produced.

“Are there grandchildren? Does Mr. Whichale perhaps have a little grandson?” asked Elspeth.

“Yes. He is immensely proud of the little fellow, though he sees him little. I imagine the lad will inherit Longpan one day.”

Elspeth pulled a little face; she would not quite say aloud what a pity it was.