“Sure there can be no mistake?”
Aldwyn shook his head. “I was only in the place for an hour or so, but I’m positive it was the same man. He had a slight Irish brogue, too, like this fellow.”
Barclay looked glum. “Damned awkward,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but Mrs. Fordyce had some acquaintance with Colby when she was living in Ireland.”
Aldwyn started. “Good God, is that so? I’d no notion of it. It follows then that she must know something about him, perhaps even his other name.”
“Not necessarily,” replied Barclay, firm in defence of Louisa. “What the lady actually told me was that Colby was an acquaintance of her late husband. She herself might know very little about the fellow; plenty of wives are little acquainted with their husbands’ friends.”
“True enough,” agreed Aldwyn in a propitiatory tone.
“Another thing,” went on Barclay. “If she knew anything of that kind about this chap, I’m confident she would discourage her friend Miss Melville from seeing so much of him. She’s very attached to Miss Melville, y’know.”
“Has Miss Melville been seeing so much of him?”
“Driving out a few times, dancing at balls, and so on. Considering the short time he’s been in Bath, yes, I’d say she has seen him a great deal.”
“Then perhaps someone should drop the lady a hint,” said Aldwyn grimly.
“Your sister, perhaps?”
“I’ll have a word with her.”
He did broach the subject with Almeria later, just before their guests arrived for dinner. She heard what he had to say without exhibiting either surprise or alarm.
“Well, I guessed he was a bit of a rogue, of course, because he’s so prodigiously attractive,” she said airily. “If you’d told me he was a womaniser, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised. A gamester, yes, I can believe that, too. But my dear Julian, are you positive that he actually cheats at cards? I can’t conceive that he’d take in experienced gamesters like Hinton-Wellow and Kennett. Indeed, it was Hinton-Wellow who first introduced him into Bath society, and whatever George Hinton-Wellow’s faults may be, I can’t imagine his sponsoring a shady character. I think perhaps there may be some mistake.”
“And I tell you my informant was reliable,” replied Aldwyn, testily. “Dare say the fellow has too much sense to try his tricks on experienced players, though no doubt he’d consider a youngster like Fortescue fair game. Not much one can do about that; the boy will have to learn the hard way. I’m more concerned on Miss Melville’s account. By all I hear, she’s been seeing a good deal of Colby.”
“Oh, so you do take some interest in Henrietta’s affairs?” asked Almeria with deceptive innocence.
“I would not care to see a close friend of yours duped by some rascal, naturally.” His tone was defensive.
“Is that all? And what happened to that scheme we two had for Henrietta’s, and your, benefit? You’ve been odiously secretive on that subject!”
“It came to nothing,” he answered tersely.
“Why, Julian? Did you change your mind about a marriage of convenience, or did she —”
“I prefer not to discuss it.”
She saw from his expression that she would get no other answer from him at present, so she wisely refrained from further questioning.
“Nevertheless,” he continued, “I trust you will have a word with your friend?”
“I’ll consider it,” she temporised, “but I believe Henrietta is well able to manage her own concerns, and she may not thank me for any interference.”
He strode away, displeased with her attitude.
By the time their guests arrived, however, he was ready to play his part in entertaining them. The three gentlemen discussed the day’s sporting event over a glass of sherry, while the ladies enjoyed a quiet cose together, then everyone sat down to dinner in a relaxed, congenial atmosphere, which promised well for the rest of the evening. Giles and Almeria were seated at each end of the table, with Julian and Henrietta on one side and Louisa and Barclay on the other. The three ladies looked charming. Almeria was in rose satin, Louisa in golden brown velvet, and Henrietta in aquamarine silk; their hair — black, chestnut, and brown — appeared burnished by the light from the chandeliers.
“Upon my soul, we’re lucky fellows to be sitting down in such prodigiously attractive company!” exclaimed Sir Giles gallantly. “I give you a toast gentlemen. To our ladies, the fairest of their sex!”
The other two men responded with alacrity.
“I do declare, Giles, you sound for all the world like Hinton-Wellow!” protested Almeria, laughing.
“How like a wife to turn a compliment into an insult,” remarked Aldwyn. “At least, Almeria, you can credit your husband with sincerity.”
“Yes, indeed, for unlike the other fellow, who seems to have a store of ’em on the end of his tongue, I don’t pay compliments every day.”
“I sometimes like to indulge myself with the fancy that Hinton-Wellow sits up burning the midnight oil in order to con over suitable phrases for future use,” said Louisa with a mischievous smile.
“Do you think so?” asked Henrietta. “Perhaps one day he will publish his efforts under some such title as ‘Pretty Phrases, or How to Commend Oneself to the Fair Sex’. Only he doesn’t commend himself well,” she added more seriously.
“Poor Hetty,” said Almeria with mock compassion. “I noticed your sufferings at the Assembly ball.”
“Why, what was this?” demanded Louisa. “I saw nothing.”
“Oh, it’s only my nonsense,” replied Almeria, airily.
Soon afterward, the ladies retired to the drawing room.
“And now tell me,” said Louisa, “what was it that you had to suffer from Hinton-Wellow at the ball, Hetty? Was he being more than ordinarily obnoxious?”
Henrietta explained.
“Well, but my dear, it wasn’t so very bad, surely? I know how you dislike him; and, of course, no female wishes to be positively mauled, but —”
“I found it humiliating in front of my friends. They might have supposed that I’d been encouraging him,” replied Henrietta defensively.
“But your friends know both of you too well ever to suppose any such thing, Hetty! Besides —” with a mischievous smile — “would it not have been worse had he offered such familiarities in private? I should have thought you’d prefer to have your friends present!”
“Absurd creature!” said Henrietta with a reluctant laugh. “Have it your own way. But I was upset at the time.”
Almeria had listened to this exchange with a knowing little smile, and her curiosity was more aroused than ever. What exactly had occurred between those two after she had left Aldwyn Court? If only Julian would not be so odiously secretive!
Throughout the rest of the evening, she covertly watched them for any clue to the mystery. They neither avoided each other nor sought to sit together, and whenever they conversed, it was in an sociable, light-hearted style. Only once did she detect any sign of discomfort between them, and that was when they were all enjoying a musical interlude which had been suggested by Sir Giles, who on occasion liked to hear a few songs played on the pianoforte.
“Pray don’t expect me to sing,” pronounced his wife, “for you know very well I have a voice like a corn crake! But I’ll accompany Louisa and Henrietta, if they’ll oblige us.”
Both ladies protested the inadequacy of their performance, but were soon overruled, and Louisa proceeded to give a spirited performance of ‘Cherry Ripe’, which was loudly applauded.
Henrietta was then applied to, but she hung back, saying she did not know a suitable piece.
“Well, you certainly know this,” said Almeria, producing some music with a flourish from atop the instrument. “I’ve heard you sing it often in the past. Come now!”
Henrietta glanced at the music. “Oh, dear, it’s a trifle sentimental, don’t you think? Perhaps there’s someth
ing more suitable —”
“No, no, you shan’t escape in that way!” laughed Almeria. “I insist you sing this!”
She struck the opening chords of ‘Robin Adair’ and Henrietta obediently began.
She had a pleasing, light voice, not strong enough to fill a large drawing room, but adequate for this small parlour. The melancholy words soon exercised their effect on the audience: they listened intently, their eyes fixed on the singer’s face.
Henrietta herself focused her gaze a little above them, for she would have found it disconcerting to look directly at them. She was not used to performing anywhere but in her own family circle, and that she had not done for a good many years. But when she reached the final verse, some compulsion forced her eyes downward until she met Aldwyn’s steady look.
“But now thou’rt cold to me, Robin Adair.
Yet he lov’d so well
Still in my heart shall dwell.
Oh, I can ne’er forget Robin Adair.”
Almeria knew the music by heart. She watched her brother and caught the sudden spark of emotion that flashed for a brief moment in his dark eyes. And when Henrietta turned at the conclusion of the song to thank her accompanist, Almeria saw that her friend’s eyes were suspiciously luminous also.
“Oh, dear, I knew I should cast a gloom over you if I sang that,” Henrietta said to her audience, “but Almeria would have it! If only you could see your melancholy faces! Perhaps we should sing something lively now, all together, as an antidote.”
The suggestion was taken up with enthusiasm, and the sombre mood of the party soon changed to conviviality. What a consummate actress her friend must be, Almeria reflected. Was it only in her imagination, she wondered, or did there exist some emotional involvement between these two, even if as yet unsuspected by themselves? It was an intriguing notion.
Chapter XIX
On Sunday mornings the pupils of Miss Mynford’s Seminary, demurely dressed in their best white muslins, trooped into the Abbey. They carried prayer books in their hands and maintained angelic expressions on their faces. Their deportment, as might be expected under the alert eyes of their accompanying tutors, was always exemplary. But on this particular Sunday morning, the conduct of the senior girls departed from that usual high standard.
It all started with Miss Anna Florey. She had been gazing innocently about her, expecting to see nothing out of the ordinary, when her gaze became riveted upon a group of people seated in the opposite aisle. She recognized Miss Melville, Mrs. Fordyce, and the Barringtons, but it was not the sight of those two ladies that had caused her to gasp in a way that brought a warning nudge from her neighbour, Caroline Bovill. Rather, it was the presence beside them of Mr. Julian Aldwyn!
With surreptitious movements of her head and darting messages from her expressive eyes, she contrived to direct Caroline’s attention.
“Mr. Aldwyn!” she whispered, greatly daring. “Now they’ll see! Pass it on!”
Pretending to aid her neighbour in finding the place in her prayer book, Caroline whispered the message, and before long, it had reached every one of the girls who had heard Anna’s story at that memorable dormitory feast. This was not accomplished without incurring warning frowns and dark looks from the schoolmistress at the end of the pew. Although the girls knew very well that some retribution must eventually follow, they were young and sanguine enough to disregard this hazard.
As for Anna, she paid no heed whatever to the sermon from that moment, being far too occupied with watching Mr. Aldwyn’s every movement as far as she was able.
At the conclusion of the service, the school party filed out of the Abbey to pause and chat with the groups of parishioners and visitors loitering in the open space before the doors of the great church.
Anna lost no time in gaining permission to go over and speak with Miss Melville and her companions. Everyone greeted her kindly as she made her curtsey, but her shy glances at Mr. Aldwyn prompted him, as once before, to be especially charming to her, even though his mood was far from convivial. For several minutes, she was granted the rapture of a tête-à-tête with him. Conscious that the curious eyes of her schoolfellows were riveted upon the two of them, Anna felt jubilant. Her credit, which had suffered sadly after Charlotte Brisbane’s denunciation of her story, would now be triumphantly restored.
Another gentleman came to join the group while she was standing there, and Miss Melville, with her usual thoughtfulness for the feelings of young girls, introduced Anna to Mr. Colby. He, too, spoke to her in a jovial way that normally would have pleased and flattered her, for one of her greatest desires was to be treated as an adult and not just a schoolgirl of no consequence whatever. But she noticed that Mr. Aldwyn drew off a trifle from the others on the advent of Mr. Colby, as though he did not wish to converse with the newcomer. She therefore edged up to him, and for a further few delightful moments was able to claim the whole of his attention.
The mistress in charge then gave a signal that Anna dared not ignore, and she reluctantly took her leave of Miss Melville’s party. She gave one last backward glance at her hero as she took her place in the school crocodile, and she was rewarded with a parting smile and wave from him. As she marched home with the others, her heart sang. It had all gone splendidly, even better than she had imagined in her wildest dreams! Now she had really and truly shown them, just as she had promised, though the promise had been made with more optimism than expectation of fulfilment.
The group she had quitted soon broke up to go their separate ways, Colby offering to escort Miss Melville and Mrs. Fordyce home. Aldwyn, who had exerted himself to be pleasant for little Miss Anna’s sake, now reverted to the sombre mood that had possessed him all morning and had increased with Colby’s arrival.
“Blue-devilled, Julian?” quizzed Sir Giles as they entered the carriage. “Dashed dry sermon was enough to cast anyone into the sullens! Only thing to do was take forty winks, but we’ll try a stronger remedy when we get back, I promise you.”
Almeria, however, thought she knew better what was the cause of her brother’s mood. His aloof air, during the short time they had been chatting to the others, had been marked; he had scarcely uttered a word to anyone except the little Florey girl. Moreover, he had not appeared to be enjoying himself vastly on the previous evening at the gala. Was it possible that he was jealous of Henrietta’s admirers? Was he falling in love? She would have liked to think so, but it was far more probable, she reflected with an exasperated sigh, that he was merely suffering from pique. Though he did not want Henrietta for himself, he disliked seeing others paying court to her. Yet Julian had never been a dog in the manger; his spirit was too generous for the indulgence of such petty feelings. If only he would talk openly to her on the subject, she might understand. It was a melancholy reflection that however close one might be to a member of one’s family, there must always be some confidences denied, some reticences that could not be overcome.
Meanwhile, Henrietta had not walked far with Colby before Captain Barclay caught them up. Louisa was especially glad to have his company, and soon they were walking a little way ahead of the others.
“It’s not difficult to see,” remarked Colby to Henrietta, “that our gallant captain is épris in that direction.” He nodded toward Louisa.
“Why, yes, I think he may be,” replied Henrietta, cautiously. “But Mrs. Fordyce is a general favourite with the gentlemen of Bath — indeed, with everyone, male and female alike. And deservedly so, for she’s so good-natured, and such lively company. But I scarce need to tell you that, for you were acquainted with her in Ireland, were you not?”
“I had some slight acquaintance with the lady’s husband. Do you suppose your friend to share the captain’s partiality? Or perhaps —” with a glance at her reserved expression — “I ought not to ask, since you ladies never betray each other’s secrets.”
“Of course not,” returned Henrietta, smiling up at him. “So even if I knew, I could not possibly tell you. But I mus
t admit that I do not know.”
“How little any of us do know about each other, after all!” he said with conscious sententiousness, then adroitly changed the subject. “Your little friend Miss Anna — was her name Florey, did you say? — seems to be fathoms deep in hero worship for Lady Barrington’s brother. All the time he was speaking with her, her eyes were shining like twin stars, and I’ll swear I caught a distinct whiff of incense!”
Henrietta laughed. “Oh, yes, poor Anna has certainly set Mr. Aldwyn on a pedestal! I dare say you’re aware that girls of that age are very prone to such transports, but they quickly recover. Indeed, I’m surprised that Anna has not already done so, for it began when she was at home for the summer vacation and had nothing much to occupy her attention. I thought that surely once she returned to school and became caught up in her normal interests, she would forget all about it.”
“I collect you are all near neighbours, your family, Aldwyn’s, and young Anna’s?”
She nodded. “The Floreys are nearest, only two miles away from my brother’s house. Aldwyn Court is four miles off, and I’ve seldom visited there since Almeria wed Sir Giles and went to live in Bath. But I’ve known young Anna ever since her birth.”
“And I dare say,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “that even in those days she was cradled in luxury.”
“Why, yes, I suppose so, for Mr. Florey is a warm man, as the saying goes. Anna is his second daughter; the elder is now Lady Abdale, and lives in London. There’s also a boy in the family, a scamp named Ben, only ten years old. But, gracious, here I am talking about our neighbours in the country, and it must be the most boring subject imaginable for you, sir! Pray, why did you not stop me?”
“Sure, and I could listen to you reciting the days of the week over and over, without feeling the slightest twinge of boredom,” he assured her with a smile. “Why, the changing expressions that flit across your face are to me a never-ending source of delight.”
She pursed her mouth, but her eyes were laughing. “Oh, pooh! You’re being flowery, sir.”
A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine Page 18
