“Whereas, I suppose, a nymph needs protecting?”
“Precisely. All the same, some gentlemen enjoy the challenge posed by goddesses.”
Louisa, noticing that he did not lay claim to preferring them himself, hunched a haughty shoulder and hurried inside and up the stairs, leaving the Marquess standing in the hall with a satisfied expression on his face.
The afternoon was passed in the garden until it was time to change for the early dinner to which the Newbolts stuck in spite of entertaining so many of the Upper Ten Thousand, who might have expected to be served their dinner several hours later.
Mr Armitage returned in time but Agnes did not.
“Where is Miss Helman?” Louisa asked him.
“She decided to stay with my mother,” he replied. “I was all for doing so myself and releasing her to come here but she insisted, pointing out that I was an invited guest whereas she is simply a neighbour.”
“What nonsense! Should I go and fetch her, do you think?”
“No; she has decided to keep my mother company.”
“And your brother? Has he risen from his bed yet?”
“No, but I don’t suppose it will be long. He looks vastly improved on when I first saw him. The doctor called while I was there and seemed quietly optimistic that he would, in time, recover most of his strength. He had tried to find a valet but had drawn a blank in Tunbridge Wells. However, I do not think John needs one now as I am there to help him for the next few days and, after that, I think he will be able to manage for himself. There is not, after all, room in that house for another servant.”
“No. I sent up some men to help him take a bath a couple of days ago and could send them up again if necessary.”
“You are very kind but I do not think they will be needed as I can also help him with that. Indeed, as I walked back with Miss Helman this morning we were discussing throwing him into the river for a swim.”
“Goodness! Are you not afraid that he might drown?”
“No; he is an excellent swimmer and I do not think his general weakness would much impair that; it would be getting in and out of the water which might present him with some difficulty until he can walk firmly again but I understand there is nothing definite amiss with his legs; it is only that he is exceedingly weak.”
Both Mr Armitage and Louisa were pleased with each other after this discussion for each recognised the charitable intentions of the other. Louisa, disliking Sir John so intensely herself, was of the opinion that the younger brother, who struck her as an altogether different type, disapproved of him too, although she had not in point of fact seen any evidence for this conclusion.
They sat in the same places as they had the night before although Mr Armitage no longer had Agnes for a neighbour and had, instead, to make do with Miss Harrison, who was not in an agreeable mood having been, as she saw it, demoted to the bottom of the table.
Louisa was again beside the Marquess who, thinking he knew just what she liked, plied her with dishes which, in her desire to be contrary, she now claimed she detested.
“But I was sure you enjoyed the shrimps last night,” he said.
“I suppose I am not obliged to eat exactly the same every evening,” she responded. “Tonight I feel I might be ill if I were to so much as look at a shrimp.”
“Oh, dear! I hope you do not mean what I think you do, but, if they fill you with such horror, I will not allow the dish to come anywhere near you,” he answered, amused and clearly not deceived into thinking her manner betrayed anything but a determination to be difficult.
“Is there to be dancing again tonight?” he asked.
“No, I do not think so. We cannot do everything the same all the time. I believe Mama intends it to be a musical evening so you will be entertained by various ladies playing and singing.”
“I hope you will be one of them.”
“Why? You have no evidence I can do either in a way that will not be either displeasing or tedious.”
“I own I have not but, somehow, my knowledge of you so far, which I admit is not extensive, leads me to believe that you will acquit yourself with distinction.”
“Well, you had better prepare yourself for disappointment.”
“Will you play or sing? May I turn the pages for you?”
“If you like. I will nod when I am ready.”
“That will no doubt be helpful although, as a matter of fact, I am able to read music.”
“Indeed? Do you play yourself, my lord? If you wish, you can accompany me.”
“I should be honoured – or you may accompany me. I am considered to have a fine baritone voice. I daresay you find that surprising but, you know, the Good Lord distributes his gifts in an uneven manner; even bad men can sometimes sing.”
“I did not accuse you of being a bad man.”
“You must be one of only a few who have not,” he replied with a lurking smile.
“It’s my belief,” she said, flushing, “that you take a certain amount of pride in being considered a bad man. I would not be surprised if you were, at bottom, quite a kind one.”
“Good God!” he burst into laughter. “Do you seek to flatter me or do you think I will be insulted by being put into the same category as, I suppose, Mr Armitage? He strikes me as a quintessential ‘good’ man in direct contrast to his elder brother who is, or was, as bad a man as I.”
Louisa, who had no wish to discuss Sir John, changed the subject, returning to music and enquiring in a conversational tone which composers his lordship preferred. This led to an unexceptionable discussion of the kind that is generally considered suitable at the dinner table and, by the time Mrs Newbolt rose to lead the ladies out, she and Lord Danehill seemed in a fair way to becoming friends.
This rapprochement was consolidated when the gentlemen joined them, Louisa standing up at once when her mother suggested the performance of some music.
“His lordship and I were speaking of this over dinner,” she explained in a lively manner, fixing the Marquess with a challenging eye, “and, as he assures me that he has a fine voice, I have decided to accompany him while he entertains you all.”
There was a polite murmur of pleasure from the assembled guests, many of whom already knew that his lordship had not, in fact, blown his own trumpet without good reason.
Louisa was an able, if not gifted, pianist and she sat down at the instrument with confidence and launched, after a short discussion with Danehill, into a popular air. His lordship, lounging gracefully against the pianoforte, came in at precisely the correct moment, probably without needing Louisa’s vigorous nod to indicate when he should start, and proceeded to follow up the indolent – and intermittently challenging – style of his courtship with startling effect. He did indeed possess a fine voice and he knew the song well so that he did not need to read the words over her shoulder but was able to look out at his audience soulfully while imbuing the words with ironically seductive expression.
Louisa, her hands faltering over the keys, was dazzled – as he had no doubt intended her to be.
Chapter 22
When Agnes came downstairs, Mr Armitage went up.
“I hear you were quite the belle of the ball,” Lady Armitage said as Agnes came into the room, having changed the yellow dress for one of her usual black ones, made high to the neck and almost entirely without embellishment.
“Is that what Mr Armitage said? It is an exaggeration; there were not many couples and everyone stood up for every dance so far as I could see. Certainly I did not want for partners, which was probably on account of Lord Danehill leading me out at the beginning.”
“That was surely unusual; should he not have stood up with Louisa?”
“Yes, I think he should – and she thought so too for she was quite annoyed with me,” Agnes admitted.
“Are you both interested in the same man? That would be most unfortunate as you are such very close friends.”
“No; if you mean Lord Danehill, I do not li
ke him although I am afraid that Louisa does.”
“Indeed?” Lady Armitage looked disappointed. “But perhaps he does not like her?”
“I am by no means certain what he thinks. He is, to my mind, a very complicated gentleman and he may have asked me to stand up with him in order to annoy her – and perhaps fix her attention on what she might be missing.”
“Lud! How did she get on with my son?”
This, Agnes thought, was the crux of the matter for Lady Armitage; she was not above – and who could blame her? – wishing that the heiress’s fancy might light upon her boy. It would indeed be the only way that anyone could see of recouping the family’s fortunes.
“Exceedingly well, I believe, but …”
“But you do not think there is much point in my pinning my hopes on a match between them?”
“No.”
The rest of the morning passed with Agnes at her sketchpad and the two men upstairs. When nuncheon was announced, the women, waiting patiently in the dining room, were surprised when both men came in together, the elder leaning upon the younger on one side and supported by a stick on the other.
He was dressed in the remains of his uniform, which had been washed, pressed and mended by Jess. The coat hung upon him and the trousers, which must once have fitted a muscular pair of legs, were held up by means of a belt apparently buckled on its tightest notch. His neckcloth was carefully tied, his hair brushed and his face newly shaved. In spite of this brave attempt at normality, he looked perfectly horrifying. Lying back against his pillows, his face had appeared less hollow than when he was standing and his height, which was considerable and drew attention to his lack of flesh, had been disguised beneath the blankets.
Lady Armitage rose as he came in, exclaiming, “Is this wise, John? Charles?”
“I suppose I cannot lie in bed for ever,” Sir John replied. “Unfortunately, it turns out I have no clothes but these. They are scarcely appropriate and do not, in any event, fit.”
“We must get you some new ones,” his mother exclaimed, going to his side, taking his arm and leading him towards a chair where she seated him as though he had been a mechanical doll, folding his limbs with infinite gentleness and a concentrated expression upon her face as though trying to remember the intricacies of the human anatomy.
Sir John, once arranged to his mother’s satisfaction on his chair, looked up at Agnes and, no doubt noticing her shocked expression, observed, “I hope my appearance will not put you off your nuncheon, Why are you no longer wearing the yellow gown?”
“Because I am in the fortunate position of possessing clothes which do fit me,” she responded, relieved that his manner seemed not to have altered from that with which she had grown familiar while he lay in bed.
“I will go out this afternoon and see what I can find in Tunbridge Wells,” Charles offered. “We cannot have poor John confined to bed because he has no clothes. It’s my opinion that the sooner he begins to move about the more quickly he will recover his strength.”
“I hope you may be right,” the invalid said, watching his mother’s hands as she placed viands upon a plate for him.
The table had been laid for three so Jess was summoned to bring another plate while Charles drew up a chair and seated himself beside his brother.
Sir John, spreading his bread thickly with butter, went on, “Have you not got a long list of entertainments lined up for this afternoon at the big house, Charles? I do not wish to deprive you of any of the pleasures to be had up there.”
“No, indeed,” Lady Armitage said at once, no doubt reluctant to have her younger son removed from the company of the heiress even if Agnes did not think there was much to hope for in that direction. “Could I not purchase what you require? Agnes could come with me.”
“What? You two women would aspire to buy me clothes?” the Baronet asked. “I would rather, I think, continue in these until I am able to set forth myself than have you two discussing what is needful and whether anything you find will fit.”
“Pray do not be absurd,” Lady Armitage replied almost impatiently. “I am your mother; I see no reason why I cannot be trusted to choose suitable clothes for you.”
“I am not, unfortunately, any longer a child and Agnes is not my sister,” he pointed out, glancing briefly at the companion’s face and seeing that his comment had caused its colour to augment.
“I am only a trifle higher than a servant,” she murmured. “I do not think you need to consider my blushes.”
“Need I not? But I own I am enjoying them,” he answered, grinning at her.
“That is because you are staring at me,” she countered. “If I were to be in a shop with your mama I do not think there would be the least difficulty in my helping her to find something suitable. I can see no reason for you to be so excessively sensitive on such a mundane matter.”
“Almost I find myself unable to resist the opportunity to see what you would choose – and what size you would consider correct – but, no, I do not think that a proper occupation for you, Miss Helman. Charles has already expressed himself happy to perform it and I believe I will put my trust in him. If you set off as soon as we have finished our nuncheon, you will be back in plenty of time for the party this evening, Charles.”
“I am in no hurry,” Mr Armitage assured him. “I believe a riding expedition was planned for this morning, followed by sitting around the lake, neither of which I mind missing.”
“What about you, Miss Helman?” Sir John asked. “Are you sorry to have missed the riding?”
“No; I do not ride.”
“Do not ride? Is that because you have no habit? We seem to suffer from similar difficulties with clothes. I should probably have stayed in bed until I had something to wear.”
“No, at least not entirely, although it is true that I do not have a habit. I have not been accustomed to go out much on horseback and would prefer not to go with a party of people who are no doubt vastly experienced. I have been on a horse,” she added, seeing his quizzical look, “but I own not with any frequency and they were always very old horses and not spirited.”
“Dear me! Perhaps you should go on the shopping expedition and purchase a riding habit for yourself so that you will be able to join in on the next such event. I am sure Miss Newbolt has a gentle horse in her stables which would do nothing to frighten you.”
“Oh, yes, I am sure she does, but I do not see any purpose in my taking up riding at this point in my life.”
“Why not? You do not strike me as having reached an age where riding would be unwise. You are yet exceedingly young and should endeavour to try as many things as possible before you find you cannot for reasons of infirmity. You mean, I suppose, that you have not enough money for a habit?”
“I have not,” she admitted, “but my position is neither one where riding is required nor where it is likely to form part of my duties.”
“Dammit!” he exclaimed, suddenly looking angry. “I would buy you a habit if I could – and I will one day, I promise, and a horse too - and then you will see how much you enjoy riding.”
“That is a kind thought,” she murmured, now scarlet in the face, while Lady Armitage and his brother stared first at him and then at her with a sort of dawning horror.
Sir John, noticing the reactions of his relatives with some irritation, added petulantly, “In any event, what is this nonsense about your position? Now that I am home, useless as I am, I can bear my mother company. She does not need a paid companion, although I daresay she would prefer to live with you than with me.”
“Are you dismissing me?” she asked in a low voice, her eyes filling unaccountably with tears.
“Do you not wish to be set free? You can go to your friend, who has a house full of eligible gentlemen, and marry one of them. He will no doubt be able to supply you with a variety of horses as well as habits. If you don’t choose to become a Marchioness, I don’t doubt there are plenty of other, perhaps more agreeable, men to choos
e between.”
“Must I? I cannot – what if none of them chooses to make me an offer? Am I to be forced to be companion to a man rather than to Lady Armitage?”
She, usually so quiet and gentle, was more enraged than she remembered ever having been before in her entire life; even as a small child, at the age at which most children fly into frequent tantrums, she could not recall having felt as though she would burst with anger as she did now. He had insulted and embarrassed her beyond enduring so that, without altogether knowing what she was doing, one hand had clenched around her knife and the other had balled into a fist. Tears spurted from her eyes. It was bad enough to have nothing ahead of her but dreary companionship to one old lady or another but to have her situation flung in her face in such a manner in the presence of two other people seemed to be the very worst thing that could possibly happen.
“I should have thought you would prefer that; why, married, you can command your own household, you can buy as many habits and dresses as you want – for heaven’s sake you can live in a proper house rather than crouching in a hovel – albeit one that is prettily painted. What have I said to make you so angry?”
“You – what have you said? I know now why Louisa pronounced you the most odious man she had ever met. And I could not have all those pretty gewgaws you list unless I marry a man with money. Must I then sell myself? I had as well walk the streets!”
“Oh, no! You would not be half so well off if you did that and just think of the work you would be obliged to put in to maintain your fresh looks and keep pleasing one gentleman after another! No, no, marriage is a much better bet. I suppose the Newbolts have invited a vast number of noblemen, most of whom will be somewhat thin in the pockets, but I doubt any of them will be so impoverished that they must take refuge in a hovel.”
“John!” expostulated Lady Armitage.
“Be quiet, man!” cried Mr Armitage.
But neither protagonist noticed the interruptions.
“So this is what it is about, is it?” Agnes cried, some of the colour subsiding from her face, leaving two spots blazing like poppies on her cheeks. “You are angry that Louisa rejected you; that you have not succeeded in persuading an heiress to take you on and you have no more restraint than to take your distemper out on me.”
Agnes Or The Art 0f Friendship Page 18
