Scarlet Shadows

by Elizabeth Darrell

  She walked beside him, as in a trance, toward the bluff, friendly man and his wife, an older, thinner version of Charity. The usual light conversation was automatic, for Victoria was conscious only that somewhere in the room was a young man rising or sitting, talking or laughing, walking or standing at ease, completely confident and assured, needing her no longer.

  At last, the Verewoods made a coy reference to how it warmed their hearts to see their daughter happy again, and Victoria followed their glance to the far corner, where Charity was seated amid enormous bell skirts of blue silk net draped over a heavy silk underskirt. The tall, sturdy man in evening clothes standing beside her did not appear to be attending to her earnest conversation. He was looking across at his brother and the girl beside him.

  “Please excuse us,” said Charles smoothly and tucked Victoria’s hand through his arm to lead her over a continent of carpet.

  Charity Verewood, conscious now that her companion’s interest had strayed, turned to watch them approach, but, for Victoria, she might not have been there. All her concentration was on the man whose face remained in half shadow. Then she was standing before him and Charles was saying, “Here is your patient, my dear, as hale and hearty as I have ever seen him.”

  She looked up at a face she did not know — a face that was pale, broader than Charles’s and forceful by dint of its many shades of perception. She looked into blue-green eyes so vivid that one did not notice Hugo laid no claim to handsomeness. She looked at an expression that was strained and unsmiling. She looked up at a stranger.

  The friendly brother-behind-a-mask who had drawn compassionate sympathy from her was gone. In his place was a captain of Hussars, a brilliant horseman with an air of élan even as he stood there, a young officer of the regiment who was being introduced to a girl at a party. With the uncovering of his face he had become a different person from the one with whom she had spent such happy hours of carefree contentment; his blindfold discarded, he had become a whole man who commanded an entirely different set of emotions from the sympathetic girl who had curled up in his chairs and romped on the floor with his dogs.

  Now that he could see, Victoria was stripped of her disguise. She could no longer delude him as he sat behind a wall of darkness. In that instant, she felt a searing awareness of her own person, as if his eyes were brilliant lights turned upon her to reveal every detail of her appearance to his concentrated study. She could see the fact in his face, so grave and unfamiliar. She heard it in a voice that had acquired a subtly deeper timbre with his restored vision, and it was apparent in those betrayers of emotion that had kept him in bondage by their blindfolding.

  Although it seemed minutes had passed since he had half bowed and said, “Good evening, Victoria,” she could not find her voice to answer. What was worse, he appeared unwilling to say anything more.

  “Victoria suffered a bad headache this morning which I am persuaded was due to anxiety, my dear fellow,” said Charles smoothly to cover the silence. “She is very sensitive to another’s plight.”

  “I confess I could not settle to my tasks with any tranquility until I heard the news,” said Charity, smiling up at the man beside her. “You must never again put your family and friends through such trying times, Captain Esterly, or we shall quite wash our hands of you.”

  “I cannot believe you would be so heartless, Miss Verewood,” he replied, his gaze still on the other girl. “I apologize for being the cause of your headache, Victoria.”

  “No…please… I gave in to weakness, that is all,” she replied, helpless in her inability to accept him as the friend to whom she had confided her foolish thoughts and wishes. How could she have let her tongue run away with her in the presence of this man? What childishness had let her prattle about toy drums she laid in his hands to feel? What had he thought of her temerity in obliging him to play chess with a schoolroom miss who boasted of her prowess in the most immodest manner? Worst of all — and this memory brought a deep blush to her cheeks — how could she have demanded to know if he intended to offer for Charity Verewood?

  “Poor Miss Castledon,” breathed the girl with blonde braids. “Small wonder you succumbed to the headache. You have tried to take upon your shoulders more than anyone could expect you to bear. Happily, you will now be able to concentrate on your wedding arrangements without the burden of the sickroom to spoil them for you.”

  The chatter was broken by the dinner announcement, and Lady Blythe, true to character, rose immediately. Charles escorted Aunt Sophy and Charity, Hugo took in the Massingham girls and Victoria went in on the arm of their brother. Freddie Massingham chatted gaily to her, but she heard none of it.

  They took their seats after Lord Blythe said grace, and Victoria glanced up to find Hugo still watching her. She looked down quickly, heat rushing over her. He had said hardly a word to her, nor smiled once, and she could guess why. He had built up a picture of her and the reality disappointed him. He had thought his brother’s chosen wife would be older, more mature. For the past week he had been entertaining her in the belief that she must be a superior well-bred young woman like Charity, and he had now seen she was a little nobody from Brighton.

  Unable to stop herself, she raised her glance once more to meet his brilliant gaze across the table. It was as if he could not take his eyes from her. There was no expression of anger there, yet she could not translate the unsmiling concentration into anything she recognized. Shyness led her to turn away, but time and again she looked up to see the same mystery in those startling green-blue eyes.

  *

  The gentlemen stayed so long over their port that the ladies began to grow restless. The three mothers clucked and tut-tutted over things dear to the hearts of elderly matrons, and the Massingham girls sat like a pair of wax dolls that had been passed over in a toy shop. That left Victoria a choice between Charity Verewood and Aunt Sophy. It was an easy one to make.

  By writing short questions it was possible to have an interesting conversation with the old lady, who had been very dashing in her youth. It needed only a little prompting to set her telling amusing tales of the pranks in which she had involved herself, tales that had Victoria laughing merrily. But even this diversion was cut short when Lady Blythe complained that the girl was exciting her aunt beyond the bounds of acceptability; the over-loud commentary was preventing anyone from being heard.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Victoria with a sigh.

  “I believe Miss Castledon was only employing her praiseworthy talent for kindness, ma’am,” put in Charity sweetly. “She has my deepest admiration for her selflessness when there are so many matters of importance to herself and Major Stanford to be decided upon. The manner in which she has devoted herself to Captain Esterly this past week is quite moving. Compassion, however misguided, must be admired.”

  “Coming from the lips of one whose goodness is known all over the county, that is a very pretty speech, Charity,” said her ladyship obligingly.

  “Such a blessing to have an admirable son like Major Stanford and then be given another by such a cruel circumstance,” sighed Mrs. Verewood, not wanting to leave the subject of Hugo Esterly. “How fortunate for the young man, also, to acquire a family such as he has.” She paused delicately. “Of course, now that his brother has elected to do his duty by you there is every reason to suppose Captain Esterly will be freed from any bonds of etiquette that have prevented him from following Major Stanford’s example.”

  “Mama!” breathed Charity in theatrical protest.

  “Why is everyone behaving with such simpering intensity?” demanded Aunt Sophy of Victoria in one of her rasping asides.

  The girl just shook her head slowly, without looking at the old lady. Something inside her had suddenly stilled, like a stream that has frozen as it bubbles over stones. Charity was quite pink, but not with embarrassment — not that girl! Mrs. Verewood looked confidently at Lady Blythe, as the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

  Aunt Patti was not w
ell enough acquainted with the situation, or was no more intelligent than her daughters, for she said, “Do not tell me Hugo has been waiting to offer for some young woman. I pray he has not had the madness to form an alliance with a foreign girl from the Continent — although I vow it is just what he would do.”

  Lady Blythe gave her sister-in-law a withering glance. “Why would he look at foreign girls when there is in this vicinity someone who has all the qualities he could wish for in a wife? I have every confidence he will do what he knows will please me. Now that all is well with him again, I believe I can guess what he will be anxious to settle with all speed.”

  Victoria saw Charity’s glance lower as a smile played over her serene profile, and the bubbling stream could be contained by the ice no longer. She could not believe Hugo would wish to be discussed in this public manner, nor that anyone should take it for granted he would obey anything but his own heartfelt wishes.

  “I believe you are right, ma’am,” she said clearly. “He has spoken to me quite often on the subject.”

  Charity’s head shot up in shocked disbelief. Victoria gave her a sweet smile and took the greatest pleasure in saying, “He can think of nothing that is more important than his ideas for new cavalry drill. It is his intention to return to Vienna as soon as possible, and he will not rest until he has convinced the stubborn old generals that he is right. He believes there is nothing that would please you more than to hear of his success in this ambition.”

  Six well-bred faces turned in her direction, each wearing an expression of well-bred shock. Only Aunt Sophy remained as she was until the comedy of the scene impressed itself upon her. She turned to Victoria with a chuckle.

  “I cannot imagine what you have said to silence these featherheads, but do write it down so that I may appreciate the richness of the situation, my dear.” Her loud voice echoed in the silence, increasing the horror of those demure ladies to whom she referred.

  Most opportunely, the gentlemen chose that moment to join their womenfolk, but it was plain to them that they had broken up marked discord. All the dear creatures had unbecomingly pink cheeks and backs that were so straight one might imagine they were starched. For a few dreadful minutes it seemed that the port-induced liveliness of the gentlemen not only failed to cheer the atmosphere but had increased the disapproval hanging so heavily in the air. Then Mr. Massingham of the hearty baritone laugh suggested a game of cards, and corset laces tightened with the sudden relaxing of tense bodies.

  The card games varied, the older members preferring serious competition while the younger ones indulged in games of chance that caused merriment and lighthearted squabbling. Charles elected to join the older group, while Hugo was pulled into the antics at the other table, laughingly protesting that his eyes would not be quick enough to allow him to win. Charity immediately seized on that point and announced that she would forego the game in order to sit with him in a quiet corner.

  “Come, Captain Esterly, we shall rest over here where the light is not such a trial to you,” she said, tucking her hand through his arm and taking him away from the group. “You must tell me your ideas for cavalry drill. If you are to make a brilliant contribution to your regiment it is only right that your friend should be let into the secret.”

  He went without protest, and Victoria told herself she had caused confusion in the camp of scheming matrons to no avail. He did not need her any longer. Yet a few moments later she had the disturbing knowledge that his vivid blue-green eyes were watching her from the darkened corner. The card game became once more a background to her troubled thoughts. He had spoken no further word to her nor cast a smile in her direction, yet it seemed he could not study her enough but must continue the whole evening.

  All through dinner the knowledge that she was under observation had made her own eyes rebels that disobeyed her will not to look up. Each time she did, a strange breathless shyness filled her. He was Hugo, yet he was not. Part of her longed for the friendly comfortable brother, yet she was too fascinated by the strange young officer he had become to wish otherwise. If only he would speak to her, laugh over the things that always amused them, treat her as his friend, she would be rid of the turmoil inside her.

  The cards lost their attraction, and Lord Blythe asked Victoria to play to them for a while, smiling at her and patting her hand.

  “Something gay for the occasion, eh?”

  She went to the piano obediently. Perhaps such an occupation would calm her, after this day of anxieties. Charles came to her side with an offer to turn her music and squeezed her shoulder as she sat on the stool.

  “I vow you are delighting the entire company this evening, dearest,” he whispered. “No one could fail to notice the radiance of your expression and the elegant gown that sets off my garnets to perfection. Everyone is at your feet, including myself.”

  “Thank you, Charles. I feel sure you are the only one who thinks so, but I hope my playing will keep them at my feet and not have them walking out through the door.”

  He paused in the act of setting her music upon the stand and fixed her with a smoldering look. “Do I not wish they would. You are enough to make any man wish to be alone with you tonight.”

  Quickly she began the little polka she had chosen for her first piece, but her fingers would not do what they should and she had to begin again. The next piece was not a lot better and the third so disappointing she gave her listeners a nervous apology and suggested they might hear better music from another pianist. Charity was called upon, and she agreed at once, begging Hugo very prettily to assist her. He gave a slight bow and excused himself on the grounds that the tiny notes on the sheet would still be a blur to him.

  “You would do better with my brother, Miss Verewood. He is renowned for his prowess in the drawing room. I fear I only shine in the field.” The deliberate look he threw Charles made it impossible for him to do anything but remain at the piano.

  Victoria took Hugo’s arm at his invitation and allowed herself to be led to a chair, where he asked if she would care for some refreshment.

  “No…no, thank you,” she told him. He made no move to go, so she added frantically, “Shall you be allowed to ride again shortly?”

  “I believe so.”

  “And…and your cavalry drill. Shall you continue with your attempts to persuade the generals you are right?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  His manner was curt and reserved, as if they had not discussed his plans and ideas at great length. Had she disappointed him so much? Unable to face him any longer, she looked down at the primrose satin of her skirt, wishing he would go away. But after a few painful moments he took the seat beside her and said huskily, “I cannot believe your performance at the pianoforte is usually as bad as it was tonight. Something has upset you, Victoria. I had the distinct impression that there had been a skirmish among the petticoats when we walked in. Dare I inquire the reason?”

  “You were the reason,” she told him, studying her skirt still.

  “I?” He was extremely surprised. “What have I done that would set a group of ladies flying at each other?”

  “It is not what you have done but what they wish you to do.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I did not think you would care to be discussed in such a way and turned the conversation in a direction that did not generally please. Aunt Sophy put in the finishing touches.”

  His glance traveled over her face, taking in every soft line. “You would take on a battery of ladies in my defense? I am honored.”

  Her confusion deepened. The words were what she might have expected from him but were said with grave sincerity. The laughing banter had gone.

  “What is it that everyone wishes me to do?”

  She turned her head toward the girl at the piano. “I think you know the answer very well.”

  “I…see.”

  Silence fell between them, and Victoria grew even more unhappy. Come what may, she must discover the truth from him. If she was to bec
ome part of the family, she must recapture the happy relationship between them. Even if he were to address her much as Charles had after her enthusiasm over Glencoe, she must hear it from him so that she could make amends.

  “It is not only among the petticoats that there is disharmony tonight,” she began. “What have I done to lose your good opinion of me?”

  “I beg your pardon? I cannot follow your question.”

  Her own courage was faltering under the strain of his coldness, but she rephrased the question. “It is all too plain that I have disappointed you somehow.”

  “No, Victoria,” he interspersed quickly. “You could not disappoint me…nor anyone else. Never think such a thing again.”

  The sudden warmth of his words surprised her. What was wrong between them that had brought up this barrier? “Then, tell me what I must think. Are you not feeling well? After the past days the excitement of so many guests might be too much for you. Is that it?”

  “In some part, yes. After so long in darkness the sight of movement and color almost makes one giddy.”

  “And I have been plaguing you over selfish matters. How unkind of me.”

  “Not unkind — foolish. Foolish to imagine thoughts that are not in my head. There is no disharmony, Victoria. Between the patroness of the regiment and its most valuable officer there could never be.” He smiled then, a slow lighting of his face that gave him instant, striking attraction.

  “Ah, you are still the person I know,” she told him in relief. “Without that black band to cover half your face you are a stranger in looks, that is all. It will take some while for me to grow used to the new Hugo. You are quite…you are quite different now that you no longer depend on others. You must not forget that I am the only one present who has never before seen you as you really are.”