by Locke, Laura
“My lady,” he said shyly. “I'm here to extend an invitation. From Lieutenant Harrington. He invites you to the officer's ball tonight.”
Pauline felt her cheeks blush. Truly? She struggled for calm, smoothing her muslin skirt flat with her palms, not wanting to look unsettled in front of the youthful man.
“Tell him I'd be delighted to accept,” she said quickly.
“Yes, madam.” He bowed low, saluted, donned his hat and turned away briskly.
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Pauline regretted them. What was she thinking? Matilda was here, gravely ill! She needed her. Of all the selfish, thoughtless...
“Wait!” she called. But it was too late. He was already seated on horseback, turning hastily away. She sighed.
“What have I done now?” she clasped her hands and walked quickly back into the house.
As she went in, shutting the door behind her, she felt herself calm down. What she had done was not so dreadful, she reasoned. Would it be better to stay here, miserable and wretched, resenting Matilda for being ill and preventing her attendance? Or would it be better to go? She gave a small smile.
And at least, if I go to the party, I can meet Lieutenant Harrington respectably. This is the best thing that could have happened.
Sometimes, she concluded as she walked lightly back upstairs toward her sister's chamber, the best thing to do was to follow your heart. It seemed always to be right.
Pauline dressed after an early dinner. The trunk she had brought with her held one evening dress of sky blue, which she was pleased to have. She studied herself in the mirror, feeling nervous.
“It'll have to do,” she decided. She put her head on one side, considering. Even though she couldn't have her favorite hairstyle – it was a trifle elaborate for Mercy, the maid at this house to make – she chose a simple hairstyle which still suited.
“It's not too bad,” she said, then flashed herself a smile. Blue suited her and she felt pretty. She headed downstairs where Henry had ordered a coach.
“Matilda is sleeping,” Pauline informed him. Still very weak, she had dozed off after dinner and she had left her propped up on the pillows, eyes closed in rest.
“Good. Thank you, Pauline. Enjoy yourself.”
“I shall, brother.”
Henry gave her a pale smile and she gripped his arm in solidarity and then went to the coach.
Now I can't change my mind.
Pauline was surprised by how nervous she actually felt. It wasn't as if this was the first time she was seeing Valerian since returning. But it was the time she had decided to confront him about the story she heard.
She watched the evening sky move past the coach windows and felt her heart in her throat, a strange nervousness making her smooth her dress and hold onto the seat. She forced her hands to uncramp, breathing deeply.
The venue for the ball was a familiar one – not the same one as the first ball she had danced with Valerian, but another one favored by the local militia. She looked up as the carriage rolled up to the front path, feeling her heart thudding in her chest.
“Thank you,” she murmured to the coachman as he handed her down. “I'll see you in two hours.”
She had decided not to stay too long. She needed to sleep.
“Very good, ma'am.”
She waited to catch her breath and then headed resolutely up the stairs.
“Good evening, Lady Pauline,” Major Cartwright said, smiling affably. “An honor to have you grace our humble gathering.”
Pauline pulled a face at him. “Major, you know I always enjoy these balls.”
“Honored, my lady.”
She moved on into the hall and looked around. She saw a tall man with black hair. He caught her eye.
“Pauline!”
“Valerian!”
They looked at each other, astonished. She smiled nervously.
“I am so glad you've come here,” he said softly. “I thought that you might decline the invitation...I was upset.”
“Valerian,” Pauline murmured. “I wanted to come.”
He smiled, that same hesitant smile that made her heart flip.
“You honor me to say that,” he said softly. She chuckled.
“Oh, you. Then I shall have to say I am honored to be here, and you will say you were honored to hear it and...it shall never end!”
He grinned. “I suppose we are both quite mannerly.”
“Yes, we are,” she nodded. The thought surprised her. Valerian was very mannerly – it was something she particularly noticed. Again, it seems he was born to different rank.
She tucked the thought away in the back of her mind and smiled at him.
“My lady,” he said gently. “You would like refreshment?” he inclined his head toward the table at the side of the hall.
“I would like a glass of cordial.” Pauline nodded. “It is quite warm in here.”
“It is,” Valerian nodded. “Though I must say I scarce noticed it earlier.”
Pauline tried not to smile, though her cheeks flushed with redness. She knew he meant she quickened his blood. She knew how it felt.
“Well, we could both probably benefit from cordial,” she said instead. She smiled up at him, dazzlingly, and he smiled back. They stood like that, both feeling too overwhelmed with feeling to do otherwise. He cleared his throat at length.
“We should find that cordial,” he said roughly.
“We should.” Pauline nodded.
They went over to join the group at the refreshments table together. Valerian went through the throng of uniformed men and elegant ladies to the table. While he was gone, Pauline studied the room, considering the words she would have to say.
When he returned, he smiled at her. “I think they have only two flavors. Lime and blackcurrant. I guessed you would like the latter.” He produced a tall glass of blue-black liquid. She smiled.
“It's my favorite.”
Valerian looked relieved. “Oh, good! I thought it might be. Mine too.”
Pauline grinned at him and accepted the drink. “Thank you.” She sipped it slowly, letting the sweet smoothness trickle down her throat. She was more thirsty than she had guessed. “How did you know it was my favorite?”
“Because it was also mine,” Valerian confessed. He looked into her eyes. “I think we are rather alike.”
“I think we understand each other.”
They looked into each others eyes and he moved closer.
“Shall we go outside?”
She nodded mutely and he linked arms with her and they walked slowly to the terrace. When they were outside, he turned to face her.
“My dear Pauline,” he murmured.
“My Valerian.”
They kissed. She leaned against him and he held her to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around.
“My dear,” he murmured, his voice barely audible where he leaned against the crown of her hair. “My Pauline.”
“My Valerian.”
She looked up at him and his eyes shone in starlight, brightly. He kissed her again.
When they were finished kissing, he drew her aside to the edge of the terrace and they stood, looking out onto the night and the field below.
“When you went away,” he said, leaning on the rail beside her, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she murmured. She knew she likely shouldn't say it – it wasn't proper for a lady to say such things, mayhap – but she meant it.
His hand lay on hers. He wore no gloves, as some gentlemen did, and he stroked her hand through the satin of hers. Her pulse leaped as he moved to her wrist, the touch of his fingers there indescribably piquant.
“I am glad,” he said roughly.
She chuckled as he flushed, shaking his head.
“I meant, I am glad to hear you missed me, like I you. Not that I wished you to be miserable,” he corrected nervously.
“I know, Valerian.”
She turned her hand to clasp his, her fingers
tight on his warm wrist. They stood like that, bodies leaned close, for what felt like forever.
I cannot ask him. I cannot risk it. If it's true, my heart would break. I want him to deny it, to tell me it's just lies. But what if he can't?
Standing there, the soft sounds of the night a delicate chorus on their ears, Pauline realized that she did not want to know. As things were now, she could choose to believe either tale. She could choose to think Cornelius a liar, and Valerian blameless. She could choose her own story.
But if she knew he was a blackguard of the worst kind, how would she feel?
I don't know.
She stared up at his fine eyes, sparkling in the distant light of stars, and knew that she could not hate him. If he was a cad, if he was a wicked man; she could not hate him. It might mean she would have to distance herself, but it would not mean she didn't love him.
I cannot stop loving him. Not for anything. Not ever, now.
She knew it seemed silly – she had known him so short a time! But it wasn't silly. She had known him long enough to know he was in so many ways her ideal match.
“Pauline?” he whispered.
“Mm?”
“Are you getting cold?” he asked gently. “We could leave.”
“I am not cold,” she whispered. After a moment, she looked up. “I would like to go in.”
“Very well,” Valerian whispered. He took her hand. “It's so nice just to be able to stand beside you.”
Pauline felt her heart melt. “Oh, Valerian, she whispered. “Sometimes I think you are too wonderful. That I am asleep, and dreaming. I must have conjured you.”
He chuckled. “Not so sure about that, dear. You would be a good conjurer – you wouldn't stoop to conjure someone like me.”
Pauline laughed. “Oh, Valerian! If I had any skills at conjuring whatsoever I would choose to let you see yourself in a better light.”
She had not known how much she meant it until she saw his expression. He looked at her levelly, his eyes damp.
“Pauline,” he said, voice gravelly with feeling. “You are a conjurer already. For you have already redeemed me, and that was something I reckoned impossible.”
Pauline closed her eyes then, knowing she would cry. She was sure she had never felt so much care for anyone, not ever before.
Chapter 19
The next morning Pauline awoke in a sort of hazy delight. She had slept deeply and her mind was elsewhere. She was standing on the terrace with Valerian, expressing their love.
For I know now I love him. With every fiber of my heart.
At breakfast, she was surprised to see Henry red-cheeked and smiling.
“Hello,” she said, a slight question in the word. “It's good to see you. Henry?”
“Mm?” He asked. “Oh! Hello, Pauline!” he said, swallowing. “Wonderful news! Did you see?”
“Did I see what..?” Pauline said, turning. Then she did. “Oh!”
“Hello, Pauline,” Matilda said. She was in the hallway, leaning on the door, deathly-pale and wearing a cream dress, but she was upright.
“Matilda! You're getting well!” Pauline ran to her and embraced her, kissing her on the brow.
Matilda chuckled. “I might not be as squashable as I was,” she laughed lightly. Pauline immediately stepped back, feeling worried.
“I know I shouldn't squash you...not hard,” she laughed. “I just can't believe how good it is to see you well!” she surprised herself by crying. Matilda chuckled.
Her cheeks were also wet as she cleared her throat. “I love you, sister.”
Pauline nodded wordlessly. “I love you too.”
They clung to each other a moment, then Pauline gently unclasped her. “I can smell something good,” she said, chuckling warmly. “We should eat something. You especially,” she added to her sister.
Matilda chuckled. “Gruel is all very well,” she nodded, wry. “When you eat it three times a day for a week it loses its appeal. That smells exquisite.”
Henry chuckled. “Come and sit down my dear. We have pastries fresh from the kitchen, and raspberry jam. And eggs and ham...take your pick.”
“I'll start with a pastry,” Matilda said, grinning as she sat down opposite Henry. “Now,” she said, turning to them both. “Fill me in on what has been going on in the world since my fall.”
Pauline smiled. “Nothing much from my side,” she said.
Henry cleared his throat. “We have some good things to report from the business side,” he explained, “though I must say all of that ceased to matter while you were ill.”
“Darling Henry,” Matilda murmured, sliding her hand toward his. Pauline felt her own heart fill, seeing the tenderness with which they held hands, their eyes warm.
I know how that feels now, she thought, swallowing hard. She knew she loved Valerian, and that she loved him with an intensity that surprised even her.
“Well, I think some things have changed on your side, sister,” Matilda said, surprising Pauline. “I mean, you want to the ball last night, and you've been away, and...so many things.”
“Well,” Pauline felt shy. “Not much, really.” She glanced weakly at Henry and Matilda pressed her hand, tenderly.
“Well, we shall have to retire to my bedchamber later and have a good conversation,” Matilda insisted. “I believe I'm only allowed to be up and about for a few hours at a time,” she added, sending a mock-resentful stare Henry's way.
He laughed and raised his hands and Matilda relented, giggling.
After breakfast, Matilda and Pauline headed, still giggling, up to her chamber.
“You shall have to tell me how everyone has been keeping,” Matilda said, pausing on the landing to catch her breath. “I hope Mama is as hale as ever?”
“Indestructible,” Pauline grinned. “I think if there were an earthquake, Mama would come out of the wreckage unscathed. Asking where the devil we'd all got to.”
They both laughed. Just then, the housekeeper appeared. She looked worried.
“Yes?” Matilda frowned. “What is it?”
“There's a message for you, ma'am.” She looked at Pauline.
“For me?” Pauline frowned. Of all the people in the area, only her parents, her cousin and Valerian knew she was here. And Cornelius, of course, but he was miles away. “I'll come directly. I won't be long, Matilda,” she assured. In the hallway, she strode purposefully to the front door, only to stop abruptly as the messenger walked grimly in.
“Cornelius?” she stared. “What are you doing here? I thought...”
Tall, looming and bulky, he stopped in front of her. She shrank back. He seemed almost to smell of anger and the promise of violence. Her heart raced.
“I know what you thought,” he said softly. “Which is why I'm glad I came back yesterday with your cousin. I hear alarming news.”
“You do?” Pauline felt her heart thump in her chest. “Please, Cornelius! Is it Cornelia? Come in here and tell me!” She waved him into the downstairs parlor.
He followed her in, shut the door behind. In the darkened room, he stared at her. Said nothing. Pauline shivered. “Cornelius, please. What is it?”
“You think you can play with me,” he said loudly. “Fool me, deal double...but you can't.” His voice broke on the last word.
“Cornelius! Please! This is crazy. Tell me what you mean?” Her heart was thumping and she instinctively leaned against the dresser, feeling a tangible physical threat in his posture.
He laughed, harshly. “You know very well what I mean, Pauline. I mean your foolish preoccupation with this lowly cavalryman.”
Pauline stared at him. “Valerian Harrington? What..? Cornelius, what are you saying?” She felt her face flush instinctively, feeling a flare of embarrassment. She had been seeing Valerian as if they were betrothed. Had he seen? Had someone reported this to him?
“Shut your mouth, Pauline,” he spat. Pauline stared at him. The shock took her breath away. She moved, backing away.
<
br /> “I beg your pardon,” she said, voice level. She looked up into his eyes, her own frosted. “You have no cause for such rudeness. Behave like a gentleman!” she snapped.
His head whipped up. His eyes kindled with rage, then it abruptly died.
“You have a cheek,” he said sullenly. “You know nothing about how a gentleman behaves.” He warmed to his theme. “If you did have, you would never want to see Lieutenant Harrington.”
“You say this,” Pauline said levelly. She was trembling now, with anger and fear. “But have you any proof? Or is this a malicious rumor?”
He laughed. “Oh, there's proof. Ask anyone. Ask about his youth in Dorset. You'll find I'm not lying.”
“His youth in Dorset?”
“Yes. Ask about the Dashwoods. They live in...”
“Milady!” a knock on the door interrupted him and they both turned quickly.
They looked at each other. “I have to answer that.”
“Then answer,” he shrugged. “Go on!”
“This conversation isn't finished,” Pauline warned, turning to the door.
“It is,” Cornelius said flatly. Pauline was about to challenge him on that when the housekeeper burst in.
“My lady!” she said. Her face was distraught, eyes moist. “Come quickly.”
“Is it..?” Pauline was already running up the hallway. She already knew. Nothing else could make the housekeeper look so dreadfully upset.
“It's Baroness Masefield. The babe's coming.”
Chapter 20
Pauline ran upstairs, breathless. The doctor had been summoned, but it would be a while before he got there. She and the housekeeper, who had some experience of this, would have to help until he finally arrived.
In the bedchamber, Matilda was propped up on the cushions, pale and waxen, but glowing with a kind of joy that surprised Pauline. “Sister,” she said. “I see you've been told already. Well, what can we do?” She chuckled weakly and leaned back, clearly tired.
“We will do what we can,” Pauline said firmly. She went to arrange the pillows so Matilda was propped up and felt a shudder of alarm as Matilda winced, biting her lip in pain.
“Are the pains often now, milady?” the housekeeper asked.
