by Fiona Hill
As this was the very last thing she had expected to hear, Lizzie could only stammer for a moment, “But—but, my dear—!”
“He was…oh, you have no idea! Pray, take me from him, dearest Lizzie! Oh, I beg you will,” she went on, clinging ever more tightly to her astonished sister.
Elizabeth met Marchmont’s eyes over Bella’s shoulder. “I suppose I ought—”
“Yes, of course, take her away,” said Marchmont, his face already dark with anger. “It is apparent my cousin has grossly insulted her ladyship. I wish I could say I am surprised.”
Elizabeth looked from the earl’s face to that of Sir Jeffery; the latter, though evidently strained, was nevertheless curiously still. Eager though she was to remove the distraught Isabella from a scene which had clearly gone far beyond her ability to control it, she was loath to leave Lord Marchmont to deal with the aftermath alone. That a bitter fury had sprung up between the two men was obvious: it was nearly palpable in the quiet air of the breakfast-room. The sense of it alarmed Elizabeth. Not knowing quite what she intended to say she began, “My lord, you will not…that is, I think it would be best if I—”
“Lady Elizabeth, you will not take offence, I trust, if I suggest your best course now is to concern yourself solely with Lady Isabella. I assure you I am quite equal to the rest.”
“Perhaps I shall put her to bed then,” murmured Lizzie, still holding the younger girl, who was now sobbing loudly against her breast. “If your lordship would be so kind as to wait till I come down—”
“I will not leave till we have talked again,” said Marchmont, anticipating her. He kept a wary eye on de Guere as he spoke, as if suspecting the other man might bolt.
“Thank you, sir. Then I shall report she has taken a sudden headache, and rejoin you as soon as I may.” With these words, received with a nod by the earl, Elizabeth departed. Lady Isabella, who cried noisily at every step and held tightly to her arm, did not so much as look up before they went.
“De Guere,” said Lord Marchmont, shutting the door carefully before he spoke, “cousin or no cousin, you will hear from me in the morning.”
“Oh, well,” Jeffery replied lightly, “if you insist. Though if you’ve anything to say to me, I don’t see why you don’t just go ahead tonight. After all—here we are, old boy.”
“You are trying my patience, Jeffery. I haven’t much of it. My second will call upon you tomorrow. In the meanwhile, I shall show you to the door.”
“No need, dear chap,” said the other lightly, though even he could not maintain intact his wonted bantering tone. Tension was clearly visible in his features as he continued, “I saw it on the way in. Anyhow, I don’t expect to be leaving for quite some time.”
“You will leave at once or I shall call the servants and have you thrown out. Don’t imagine I won’t do it,” added the earl, as Sir Jeffery seemed to hesitate.
“Very well, then, if you are absolutely adamant…I dare say supper won’t be much to speak of anyhow, and I rather expect Mrs. Butler has been wondering where I am. I say, awful shame you and I can’t seem to exchange two words lately without one or the other of us having to rush off, eh?”
Lord Marchmont easily ignored this cheerful monologue, which continued all the same till they had reached the front door. He broke his silence only to mention quietly, while a footman helped de Guere with his cape, “If you return, I will certainly have you thrown out on your ear. Remember that.” He then turned on his heel and ascended the central staircase, stopping at the top to be sure his cousin had gone. Satisfied on this point he went back to the ball-room, scanning the crowd for Elizabeth.
Before he had spotted her, however, Lady Emilia had seen him. She floated up beside him with a teasing smile and demanded, “How now, young man, where have you been? I could have sworn I saw you leave this room with a lady in tow!”
Lord Marchmont roused himself to some semblance of good humour: there was no point involving Emilia, if he could help it. “Yes,” he admitted, “and now the little minx has gone and vanished. Have you seen her?”
“Oh, my poor brother! I knew you would one day regret your ignorance of matters romantic. Why the very first lesson every schoolboy learns in love is: do not allow the lady to disappear. Even if it means holding on to her hand continually, it is absolutely imperative that you keep her at all times in sight. I see I shall be obliged to educate you,” she sighed.
“But have you seen her?” insisted Jemmy, his pose of good temper ever harder to maintain.
Emilia noted the sharpness in his voice, but she ascribed it to some contretemps with Elizabeth. Hoping it would prove insignificant, she answered, “I am sorry to say I have not. Would you like me to go and look for her? Perhaps she has ripped her hem, or—”
“No, no, pray do not,” he interrupted, all the while searching through the sea of faces.
“Well, I only meant to be helpful,” said Emilia, a little stung.
“Yes, my dear; I am sorry. I know you did, but it’s rather—” The earl heard the distraction in his own words and pulled himself together again. “I don’t seem to be myself just now. It’s nothing you need trouble about,” he said more kindly, at last fixing his attention on her. Emilia returned his gaze with a careful, steady look.
“Of course,” she said quietly. “Suppose I go off and find someone to dance with me then, shall I?”
Her brother nodded gratefully and kissed her cheek. “Let me know when you are tired and wish to leave.”
“Oh, you can depend on me for that,” said she, still perplexed. It had become clear to her her presence was only vexing him, however, and she was just as glad to quit his company. She was wondering if some quarrel had arisen between her brother and Lady Elizabeth, to cause him to behave so oddly; but just moments after she left him she saw the lady in question come flying up to his side, whisper a few words to him, and proceed in great haste into the thick of the crowd. Far from looking as if they’d quarreled, they appeared to be almost conspiring together. Emilia decided to apply herself diligently to enjoying the rest of the ball.
Lady Elizabeth meantime had gone to inform her mother of Isabella’s sudden ill health. “Is it serious, do you think?” asked Lady Trevor. “It is so unlike her!”
“To be sure, madam, but I do not think it serious,” was her reply. She was impatient to get back to Marchmont and worried lest one of the gentlemen to whom she had promised a dance come to claim her hand. Moreover, she did not care to lie to her mother. Isabella, however, had implored her to say nothing to her parents—at least not that night. Indeed, Lizzie had been obliged to promise she would keep silent in order to get the frantic Isabella to stay in bed. A half-truth came to her, and she went on, “It seemed to me less a question of headache and more one of nerves, Mamma. I’m afraid she was so very excited about tonight that the evening has quite overwhelmed her. She seemed to be asleep when I left her, however, so I don’t think you need go up.”
Lady Trevor, who had enough on her mind with a hundred guests, five musicians, and thirty or forty servants to manage, allowed herself to be persuaded pretty easily, and Lizzie left her a moment later.
“Come to the library, my lord,” she said in a low voice to Marchmont, as she regained his side at last. Heedless of appearances, the earl acquiesced at once. The couple hastened again down the long corridors.
“Can you imagine!” Elizabeth burst out the instant they were alone. Lord Marchmont had left the door half open, but Lizzie closed it, for she was more frightened of the servants’ eavesdropping than of being closeted with the gentleman. “I can’t think who I’m more furious with, my sister or Sir Jeffery. For though I am sure he must have forced himself upon her—”
“I am quite sure,” broke in Marchmont grimly.
“—I am equally certain it was her own fault for allowing herself to be drawn into such a position in the first place. The silly chit! I specifically pleaded with her this evening not to go off alone—”
“But there is no excuse for his behaviour. Nothing can mitigate what has happened in the slightest. Taking advantage is taking advantage…and I blush to say that that is what my cousin has done. I must speak to your father, I suppose, since he is my—”
“Oh no, I hope you will not do that,” interrupted Lizzie.
“But surely he must be told—”
“I had rather…wait a bit. The fact is, Bella has begged me to keep silent on this head, at least until she and I have discussed it together. I suppose this must sound silly,” she went on, her colour rising just perceptibly, “but I should feel rather like a snitch if I were to carry the tale to my father. It’s a kind of understanding Isabella and I have had since we were children…” Her words trailed off lamely as her embarrassment grew. She was certain the earl must think her an utter fool—a schoolgirl, and a giddy one at that.
But his lordship looked more concerned than scornful. “My dear girl,” he began, then corrected at once, in some confusion, “my dear ma’am! This is too serious a matter, don’t you agree, for such secrecy to be maintained around it?”
“But it is that very seriousness which compels me. Oh, you must understand that my father will take just as dim a view of Isabella’s behaviour in this matter as I have. He is a very just man, no matter what the issue, and she is sure to catch—oh dear me, how can I explain it? No real harm was done, it appears, and unless some injury comes to light—”
“I fear I must disagree with you, Lady Elizabeth. Some very real harm was done—”
“But—”
“No matter how far things proceeded, or did not proceed,” he continued over her protestation, “and whether or not your father is to be informed, whether or not anyone knows of it save the four of us, it is a situation that demands redress. If you are unwilling to tell your father—”
“At least till tomorrow!”
“I shall be happy to take the whole affair into my own hands. In fact, I should much prefer it. At all events you can rest assured your sister’s innocence will not go undefended.”
Lady Elizabeth stared at him as the significance of these words slowly came to her. “My lord, you do not intend—”
“I think we ought perhaps to terminate this discussion.”
“But I want to know,” she insisted, ever more alarmed. Impulsively she reached out for his hand, holding it in both of hers. “Dear sir, are you planning to call him out?”
The earl said nothing; then quietly, “Certainly not.”
“But you are!”
“Dear ma’am, I beg you will not press this matter.”
“Oh no, I cannot allow it. Oh dear, no! That you should risk your life merely because my sister has been an idiotish—good heavens, it’s absolutely unacceptable. I could not think of it.”
“Excellent,” said Marchmont, smiling a little for the first time during this exchange. “Don’t.”
“No, I mean it is outside the realm…that is, if Bella knew, I feel sure— No, come to think of it, she would simply thrive on a piece of gallantry like this. The silly chit! She does make me furious. But my point is—”
“Dear Elizabeth, I know what your point is,” interrupted Lord Marchmont. He spoke softly but with much feeling. It was the first time he had ever used her name without her title. The sound of it pleased both of them at the same time as it made them a little self-conscious. “I should like you to put the entire matter out of your head. I shall not fight my cousin.”
“You are saying this to protect me.”
“Dear ma’am!” he countered, smiling. She still held his hand, and now he grasped both of hers and carried them to his lips. “Your concern touches me, but I wish you will believe there is nothing about which to be concerned.”
“So I should like to believe, but I am persuaded otherwise. Give me your word you will not call him out. I promise you nothing has passed to justify it in any case,” she concluded earnestly.
“But Lady Elizabeth,” he said, “I cannot give you my word.”
“Oh, this is wretched!” Lizzie suddenly exclaimed. She had at this moment a dreadfully poignant sense of what a loss it would be to her if the man now holding her hands so gently should be wounded—or worse. His insistence on imperilling himself for Isabella’s sake was beginning to drive her wild, she felt, yet he would not listen to reason. She looked fully into his large grey eyes and demanded without much hope, “Is there anything I can say to dissuade you? If I told my father, would you—”
“Lady Elizabeth, there is nothing. I know when you have had time to reflect a bit, you will understand I can take only one course at this point, regardless of who knows or who would prefer it otherwise. That is what it means to be a gentleman, after all. Do you see?”
She took a step closer to him, feeling suddenly small and still. “I see,” she murmured. They exchanged a long, mute glance.
“But I should like to speak to your father about another matter…concerning you, in fact, and me—”
“Oh dear!”
“If I might. If you would prefer that I wait, or desist altogether…” Marchmont could not find an end for this sentence. He had begun it on an impulse: the girl before him was so very lovely!
“No, oh no,” she stammered, her colour rising again.
“No, I ought not to ask, or no, I ought not to wait?” he inquired.
“No, you ought not to…oh please, are you quite, quite sure of this, sir?”
“Not if it distresses you so!”
“But it does not distress…oh Lord, what has come over me?” For Elizabeth felt all at once very shaky and unwell indeed. Though she did not wish to lose the feel of his hands on hers, she wrested them away from him and went suddenly to sit down upon a sofa. A kind of vertigo had crept up on her. Her ears were ringing with the words she had spoken to Isabella on the night of her first meeting with the earl: “I am going to marry Lord Marchmont—see if I don’t!” What insufferable assurance! What smugness! She heard her own voice say the words, heard the conceit in her tone, and her cheeks burned as if Lord Marchmont could now hear them too. Was it possible, she asked herself feverishly, that she had set her mind on having this prize and then manoeuvred the poor man till she got him? Was it conceivable the gentleman was susceptible to such manipulation? Lady Elizabeth had been accustomed since earliest childhood to get her own way in most things: there were not many things she wanted, but what she did desire she made it her business to obtain. Though Charlie was older than she, she easily outwitted him; and though Isabella was her superior in energy and imagination, she could not defend herself against Elizabeth’s greater sophistication and diligence. Even her parents she had found the means of swaying, when their demands had annoyed or frustrated her. In short she had come to think of herself as—secretly—headstrong, willful, almost spider-like in her determination to control other people. Was it not possible then that she had, almost without thinking, brought the earl to such a pass that he believed himself in love with her? And did he deserve a wife so ruthless, so selfish, so—Machiavellian? She felt in this instant entirely ashamed of herself. Here was Lord Marchmont ready to die to defend the honour of her madcap younger sister, while she herself—was she worthy of anyone’s regard, let alone his? Poor Lizzie was badly shaken indeed, and even her voice trembled as she finally brought forth, “I pray you will forgive me, my lord. I cannot think what has—perhaps the excitement of discovering my sister with…” Her voice faded.
“Naturally, quite so,” said Marchmont, a trifle dubiously. “The events of this evening have overwhelmed you. I ought to have realized. I ought not to have spoken of this—this other matter tonight. Stupid of me.” He bent over her solicitously for a moment, then moved away again.
“No, not at all. It’s only—dear me, can you forgive me?”
“No, indeed, the apologies are all on my side. It was oafish—”
“Hardly!”
“Yes, I am not myself, that’s all. Please, may I address you on this question som
e other time? Or oughtn’t I even to ask that, perhaps?”
“No! I mean, yes, please! Oh good heavens, I seem hardly able to say two words as I intend them. I should be very honoured if…that is, I believe I should be happy if you would renew…Oh dear God I can’t remember ever in my life being so awkward!” she finally finished, not daring even to meet his eyes. She felt her cheeks must be crimson and heartily wished herself any place but where she was. Lord Marchmont seemed to sympathize.
“I shall go then, shall I? Would you like me to call your maid for you?” he went on, edging toward the door. “Perhaps Lady Trevor—?”
“No, please!” Elizabeth remained seated on her sofa, staring disconsolately at her toes. She risked a single glance at him, then averted her face at once. “I only need a moment to compose myself,” she mumbled.
“Certainly. Shall I stay with you?”
“Oh no—”
“Then I shall go,” said the poor man, thoroughly ill at ease. It was abundantly clear that something in his proposal had upset the girl no end, and he had a strong suspicion she would be glad to see the back of him just now. What had he said? He had been quite confident ten minutes before that she would not discourage his suit. An old resentment flared in him suddenly, and he reminded himself that women were women, after all. The very best of them was bound to be impossible some time or other. He had said so himself to Lord Weld, not two weeks before. It was Charlotte Beaudry all over again, gaining his trust, then marrying someone else. Confused and uncomfortable, he made a final bow to Lady Elizabeth and took himself out of the room. He had a profound sense of relief as he strode down the corridor away from the painful scene. Compared to this a duel with de Guere would be positively enjoyable. At least if he wounded Sir Jeffery he would know how and why.
The thought of his cousin recalled him to the necessity of arranging a meeting. Naturally the cartel must not be delivered till the morning, but he ought to go home and write it and discuss the affair with Weld. He entered the ball-room and found that gentleman in company with Emilia, the two of them being engaged in a lively debate with Charles Stickney and old Lord Frane. The controversy was something to do with the morality of waltzing. Lord Marchmont managed to break it up and disengage his party from the others. “Emilia my dear, will you say I have failed in my duty if I ask to leave now?”
