by Dorothy Mack
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” she protested, mounting a feeble attack. “After all —” warming to her theme — “I am supposed to be chaperoning all these girls, and there isn’t one of them in sight!”
“Did you know that your eyelashes curl delightfully?” he replied with total irrelevance, removing his hands from her waist with palpable reluctance.
“Never mind my eyelashes!” Miss Latham gritted her teeth, annoyed at this lack of cooperation. “How long was I asleep, and where is everyone?” She enunciated each word with icy precision.
“You have only been sleeping about a half-hour. We finished our game about ten minutes ago and had something to drink. The others wandered back up toward the castle a few minutes ago, so you may rest easy on the score of performing your chaperone’s duties, though it is idiotish even to consider you a chaperone in the first place. You are scarcely older than these girls.”
“Nonsense,” she replied, retying her hat at a more severe angle. “I am three-and-twenty.”
“That scarcely puts you beyond marriageable age. I thought a woman was never at her last prayers these days. Why have you not married?”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it is impolite to ask personal questions?” snapped Cleone, exasperated.
“My mother never taught me anything except to distrust women.”
Cleone had been whisking some leaves off her skirt. Now she looked up at him and saw her own astonishment reflected in his eyes.
“I beg your pardon; I don’t know what has come over me lately. I seem to have told you things that I have never said to another living soul.”
She put a hand on his arm in an instinctive gesture of comfort. “No, please don’t apologize. I think perhaps these last two days have been very difficult for you. I would like to help if I may.” Cleone could sense the struggle going on behind his frozen visage and knew when he had retreated. She removed her hand and started to walk slowly uphill toward the castle. He fell into step with her and said, “Thank you, Miss Latham. Believe me, you have helped more than you know. Would you excuse my lack of manners and answer a personal question?”
She eyed him somewhat warily but nodded.
“Why have you not married?” There was no mockery in his face, and Cleone found herself answering in some detail.
“The year of my come-out was a very difficult one. My presentation was something my mother was very set on. She’d been planning for it for years financially, but her health was failing rapidly. Much of the time she wasn’t well enough to accompany me on the social round, so Isabella very kindly took her place. There I was, going about on a senseless round of parties and balls, so afraid I’d lose my mother; and there was Mother, so afraid I wouldn’t find a husband to take care of me when she was gone.” Up to this point Cleone’s voice had been unemotional, but now there was a catch in it as she finished huskily. “And our worst fears came true on both sides.”
“It must have been an unhappy time for you.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice for a second. “There were some pleasant moments, of course, and I made some friends with whom I still correspond, but au fond I was terribly anxious and unhappy.”
“I still find it difficult to believe there was no man with the good sense and discrimination to snap you up.”
She shrugged dismissal. “I had two offers, if you must know. I never mentioned them to my mother because not even for the sake of her peace of mind could I commit my life to either man. After she died, I felt a horrid sense of guilt on top of everything else because I could have made her last months happier if only I had accepted one of them. Can you understand this?”
“You felt you should have married for her sake?”
“Yes. I wanted to; I fully intended to when I first went to London, but in the end I couldn’t bring myself to make the sacrifice.”
“One’s whole life with an incompatible person is too much of a sacrifice, one I doubt your mother would have wished you to make.”
“No, she often said I must be sure to choose a man whom I could respect all my life.”
“Respect — not love?” He stopped and faced her, waiting for an answer.
“Well, many people marry without love, do they not? Mother thought love would develop in time if there was mutual respect and good will. Unfortunately,” she concluded with cheerful unconcern, “all I felt for my suitors was a strong disinclination to put my life in their hands. Heavens, we are becoming serious — and on a picnic outing too!” She gave a throaty little chuckle and would have moved on, but Lord Altern was still frowning over her revelations.
“What about afterward?” he asked.
Cleone looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. What about afterward?”
“I should have thought that was obvious. Why are you still unmarried five years later?”
“I should have thought that would be obvious,” she retorted with some heat. When the intent look on his face did not change, she laughed in genuine amusement. “You do not leave a woman with a rag of pride, do you? Very well, I am still unmarried because I have neither great beauty nor large fortune, nor have I met any unmarried men in the last four years.”
Dark colour surged up under his skin, and he said with some distress, “Miss Latham, I beg you to believe I meant no insult. Far from it! I —”
“Besides,” she interrupted ruthlessly, “I could not marry now, of course.”
That brought him out of his self-castigating mood. “Could not marry?”
“No,” she said simply. “I am needed here.”
Lord Altern stared, his face frozen in impatient lines. “It is obvious that you run the place, but a good housekeeper could do the same.”
“It’s not just that,” she explained patiently. “It chafes my great-uncle to have a lively young family quartered on him. He is old and set in his ways. He disapproves of poor Philip and frightens Cecily and has little sympathy for Isabella or any understanding of her problems. I am afraid of what would happen if I were not here to smooth things for both sides.”
“The indispensable woman,” he murmured on a nasty note of sarcasm. “Philip will come of age shortly; Emerald will marry. They will not be at Bramble forever. What of your future, then? Have you thought of that?”
“Naturally, I have,” she replied calmly. “When I am no longer needed here, I shall take lodgings in London and paint. I have enough money to get by if I live frugally.”
“This is the future you envision for yourself? My God!”
They had been slowly approaching the remnant of the keep as they talked, though neither was aware of the setting. Cleone, partly from a need to get away from her interrogator, continued on around the inner side of the wall without answering this last thrust. Ahead of her she glimpsed a white skirt near the trees at the end of the site and quickened her steps, only to stop once again, so shortly that Lord Altern almost walked into her.
“Oh, dear!”
Lord Altern followed the direction of her glance and saw Cecily and Bernard Ludlow standing close together under a tall tree. Cecily’s hands were full of field flowers, and Mr. Ludlow took advantage of this in suddenly tipping up her chin and pressing his lips to hers.
“Oh. dear!” Miss Latham’s usual articulation had deserted her. She took an automatic step forward, but was stayed by a hand on her wrist.
“No need to embarrass them if that was just an impulse,” Lord Altern said in her ear. The two stood near the keep wall, a silent, unnoticed audience to Cecily’s subsequent crimson-cheeked confusion and Mr. Ludlow’s scarcely more composed apologies. All this performed in dumb show from a distance was perfectly apparent to Cleone and Lord Altern.
“I feel like the lowest form of keyhole peeper,” Cleone hissed in her companion’s ear as the young couple began to walk down the hill away from them. She took a step in their direction, but again Lord Altern held her back.
“Let them get a bit farther ahead.”
She slowed obediently but protested, “May I remind you, sir, that I am here today in the role of chaperone.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he said somewhat dryly. “Do you disapprove of young love?”
“Love! Do not be so ridiculous. They met only two days ago, for heaven’s sake!”
“Can you deny that you saw how it was with those two from the instant of clapping eyes on each other? Romeo and Juliet were not a patch on that pair.”
“I don’t deny there was a — an instantaneous attraction between them, but love takes time to develop. I do not believe in love at first sight.”
“Even with this splendid example before you?”
“You are disposed to be in a teasing humour today, Lord Altern,” Cleone replied with dignity.
“And you, my dear Miss Latham, are disposed to be in a repressive humour. Is your youth so far behind you that you feel no sympathy for these two young lovers?”
Cleone glared at him, annoyed at being somehow put in the wrong. “I have every sympathy for them, but they are very young, after all. Instantaneous attractions do not inevitably lead to lasting attachments, you will agree.”
“Ouch!” Lord Altern winced visibly. “If that shaft was aimed at me, it certainly struck home.”
It was Cleone’s turn to look distressed. “Indeed, I meant nothing personal by my remarks, sir. It is not my place to criticize you.”
“I absolve you of any intent to wound; I don’t believe you have it in you to deliberately seek to hurt someone. The fact remains that I have made a colossal fool of myself.”
Cleone did not pretend to misunderstand him. She said, choosing her words with care, “You mistook your heart. There’s no escaping that it is … awkward, but these things do happen.”
The hint of reserve in her manner had not escaped Lord Altern’s notice. He longed to make her understand, but how to explain that he had cold-bloodedly determined to ask Miss Hardwicke to marry him and then just as cold-bloodedly decided he did not wish it, after all? She would with justification condemn him for trifling with her cousin’s feelings. The fact that Emerald was very likely unmoved by him personally did not excuse his behaviour, though in his own mind it allowed him to wriggle free of the awkward situation he had created without loss of honour. He was not proud of his conduct, and a strong desire not to sink lower in her esteem kept him silent as they trailed in the wake of Cecily and Bernard.
In the event, there would have been no time to set his case before her because they were hailed by Philip and Miss Ludlow from behind, and within minutes the whole party had come together again.
Cleone saw to it that they remained within sight of one another for the half-hour remaining to them before it was time to set out on the return trip. Her manner retained its customary composure only by a stern effort of will, for she was miserably conscious of having failed to perform her duenna’s role in the fashion that Lady Ludlow and Isabella had every right to expect. She could only be grateful for the small favour that prevented her from having to endure Emerald’s company on the ride home. At least a dreamy Cecily and a resigned Adelaide did not present additional difficulties.
CHAPTER 10
“Come in,” called Emerald when a soft knock sounded at the door to her bedchamber. She glanced around from her chair by the dressing table, her impatient expression changing to surprise as she recognized the figure hesitating in the doorway. “Oh, Mama, I thought you were Tilly. I rang for her, but you know how slow she is to respond.” She turned back to stare with dissatisfaction at her own image, pulling out the pins that anchored her dark curls on top of her head.
“Shall I brush your hair for you, dearest, until Tilly gets here?” Lady Henley asked.
Her daughter shrugged. “If you like, but brush it strongly, Mama. You are too gentle.”
Lady Henley proceeded to wield the brush in a brisk manner, drawing it through the thick raven tresses. “You have such lovely hair, dearest; so deep a black is very rare.”
Emerald shrugged again. “I am tired of this style. I want Tilly to try something new.” As Lady Henley continued to pull the brush rhythmically through the dense curls, their eyes met in the mirror. “Did you wish to tell me something, Mama? Is that why you are here?”
“No, nothing special, dearest. I wanted to hear about the excursion to Bramber Castle, that’s all. Did everyone have an enjoyable afternoon?”
“I suppose so. There wasn’t much to see, just a crumbling wall and some rubble.”
“Was the picnic lunch adequate?”
“Everybody seemed to find it so, though the ants were annoying. The men had a game of quoits afterward.”
Lady Henley’s resolution almost deserted her as she read the poorly concealed impatience in her daughter’s face, but she gathered her courage together and ventured diffidently, “I don’t suppose Lord Altern said anything —”
“Lord Altern said nothing at all of a private nature to me, Mama, but that is scarcely to be wondered at, is it, when Cleo is bent on monopolizing his attention.”
Brush in hand, Lady Henley stared at her daughter in dismay. “Cleone? I don’t understand.”
“It’s very simple, really. She kept him by her side at lunch and then feigned sleep later so that he did not come walking with the rest of us but stayed by Cleo so she wouldn’t be alarmed to wake up and find herself alone — or so he said.”
“But surely it is to Lord Altern’s credit that he should show such consideration. He is a true gentleman. Look how kind he was to Cecily when she had her spill, and he carried you to your room when you hurt your ankle yesterday.”
“I do not accuse Lord Altern of unmannerly conduct, Mama, but surely you have noticed how Cleo’s insinuating ways have drawn his attention to her throughout his visit.” When Lady Henley merely looked uneasy, Emerald continued, “She had to be the one to conduct him about the picture gallery, and look at that croquet game yesterday! What must Cleo do but show off her prowess at ridiculous games to entice Lord Altern into competing with her and ignoring the rest of us.”
Lady Henley was a dotingly fond parent, but she was not blind, and the irrational nature of her daughter’s complaints of her cousin did not escape her notice. Now she said soothingly, “I am persuaded Cleone has not knowingly tried to distract Lord Altern’s attention from you, my dear, and it was your grandfather, you know, who insisted that she guide him around the gallery.”
“Yes, and Grandpapa is another one! Why must he insist on playing whist and chess with my guest, and dragging him off to inspect a lot of fusty old weapons?”
The entrance of Tilly, come to do Emerald’s hair, saved Lady Henley from having to defend her father-in-law’s behaviour. She made her exit with great thankfulness, but the relief of escaping from her beloved child’s exhausting company was only momentary. Long before she reached her own room, her brow wore a worried frown as she digested Emerald’s complaints. No matter the true situation, the girl perceived her cousin as a threat to her position vis-à-vis Lord Altern. There was only one more full day of his visit, for he would be leaving for Brighton on Monday. On the surface, the visit had passed much more pleasantly than she would have dared to hope, given her father-in-law’s sarcastic tongue and reclusive nature. Perhaps Lord Altern was simply waiting until the end to make a formal application for Emerald’s hand. Very likely the girl’s concerns were groundless, certainly her allegations against her cousin were the product of a mind disordered by anxiety as her suitor continued to treat her with deference and charm but no particularity that was evident to her watchful mother.
About to enter her own room, Lady Henley drew back her hand and stood staring unseeingly at the door, her frown deepening. With only one day left, nothing must be left undone that might promote the betrothal. She sighed aloud, not at all relishing her task but convinced that Cleone would understand. She was so good to them all. Lady Henley turned away from her room and made her way down the corridor to knock at Cleone’s door with more d
ecision than she had displayed a few moments earlier at Emerald’s.
Cleone was also seated at her dressing table brushing her long hair. Lady Henley was struck by the very attractive picture she presented, vaguely aware that Emerald’s accusations had caused her to see their cousin through new eyes, as a stranger coming into their midst might see her. They had grown accustomed to thinking of her as a fixture at Bramble, but really the girl was very pretty and far too young to dwindle into an ape-leader. An uncrystallised sense of guilt was added to the weight of oppression on Lady Henley’s frail shoulders, as for the first time she actively wondered what was to become of Cleone when Lord Brestwick died. Resolutely she pushed that unwelcome complication out of her mind. Once the girls were safely married, they must all do their best to establish Cleone in a home of her own, but, she reminded herself, Emerald’s future was their chief concern at present. Cleone smiled at her cousin and bade her be seated. Calling upon all the tact at her command, Isabella presented her daughter’s concerns, omitting all accusations and laying delicate stress on the lack of opportunity for the courting couple to be private, what with so many other persons inevitably present at all times. She hit on the happy notion of asking Cleone’s advice on how to provide more time together for Emerald and the earl in a subtle fashion, finishing up with a spirited condemnation of those matchmaking mothers who crudely flung their daughters at the heads of eligible bachelors.
“For you must know, Cleone, that I do not condone that sort of vulgarity and never could. It smacks of entrapment, and I would utterly sink with mortification to be considered capable of such contemptible behaviour.”
Cleone soothed Isabella’s bruised spirits automatically while her brain turned over alternatives. She had heard her out in silence and sincerely entered into the older woman’s concern for her daughter, although it was no easy feat to transfer any sympathy to Emerald, whose heartburnings were due entirely to wounded vanity, in Cleone’s opinion. She had seen no genuine feeling on Emerald’s part for her unresponsive suitor and frankly thought they were both well out of a match that promised so little in the way of personal satisfaction. She had no intention of further exacerbating poor Isabella’s sensibilities by stating her opinions, though, so she said quite gently, “How would it be if I pleaded a headache after dinner tonight and retired to my room? Perhaps you and Cecily could then engage in some sort of activity where she needed your help — sewing something perhaps? That would give Emerald a clear field to entertain Lord Altern without blatantly removing everyone from the room. He always enjoys her singing.” She looked at the faded, still-pretty, and patently anxious woman sitting uneasily on a cane-seated chair pulled out from the desk.
