“Well, at least it will not burn your lips,” he pointed out.
“Must we keep him?”
“I believe so. After all, he does do something, even if he is a bit slow, and we can’t afford to give him a pension. Ah, here he comes! Thank you, Thomas, just put the tray there. Yes, that’s all for the time being. Shall I pour, my dear, since the pot is beside me?”
“Yes, please. Now look,” she went on as he mimed pouring tea and passing her a cup and saucer. “See how pretty the roses are this year!”
“Indeed – quite ravishing!” he agreed, following her gesture and perceiving a few wild roses tangled intimately with some honeysuckle a few feet away. “Let me pick you some, my love!”
“Oh, pray do not – you will only fall over again!” she exclaimed, forgetting that she was meant to be acting and detaining him with one hand.
“I wish you would not keep reminding me of my infirmities,” he grumbled in an old man’s wavering tone, taking an imaginary sip of his tea.
“I suppose I should not have expected anything else of such an old husband,” she pouted.
“Indeed. I cannot conceive how you ever thought I would be able to keep up with you, my dear.”
“You promised you would,” she argued, now adopting a wheedling tone. “You said we wouldn’t notice your age – and we didn’t at first,” she went on, “but recently you have become dreadfully old and – and quite useless.”
“Really? In what way precisely am I useless?” he asked, laughter bubbling beneath the words.
“If you don’t know, I don’t believe it’s my place to tell you!”
“Husbands and wives should share everything,” he said sententiously, adding provocatively, “I thought you’d be glad I didn’t trouble you so often.”
“I thought I would too,” she admitted with a sideways glance at him from under her lashes, “but I find myself worrying that it must be some fault in me that makes you so uninterested.”
“Never!” he declared. “It is only that I thought you disliked me and detested my attentions!”
“It’s so long since you paid me any that I’ve almost forgotten what they were like.”
“Perhaps you should have married my brother after all.”
“Did you think I was pretending to be married to Stonegate?” she asked, suddenly confronting him.
“Were you not? I own I did not think I was so old that you would have considered the disparity in our ages a matter for concern.”
“No, I never thought of him at all,” she admitted. “I was pretending we were an old married couple – and you are older than I – quite a lot – and everyone is always going on about how I was a child when we first met.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “So, were you imagining your ugly, infirm old husband ignoring you and you wishing – were you? – that I would pay you attention from time to time?”
“I suppose I must have been; I don’t know, but I was not imagining you were Stonegate and when you said, ‘you should have married my brother’, I thought you meant I should have married him.”
“So, when you said, ‘it’s so long since I paid you attention’, you meant I had not and, by implication, wished that I would?”
“It was not about ‘attention’ precisely,” she said, afraid he had still not quite understood her meaning, “but about attentions.”
“I know – not about my saying, ‘what a charming dress you are wearing, my dear,’ more about my not coming to your bedroom.”
“Is that how you understood it?” she asked, turning red.
“Yes, but it was in a slightly different context; that was why I thought you must be talking about Frederick.”
“Oh! Because you could not imagine my feeling neglected by your not coming to my bedroom?”
“No, because I could not imagine not doing so – although I can perfectly understand that you might prefer me not to!”
She did not answer because this decidedly risqué little play had had an alarming and altogether unexpected effect upon her. She did not realise that she had provoked it herself, nor that her complaint about his absence of attention expressed precisely what she was feeling. She had, some time ago now, declared her love to have withered, he had declared his to be everlasting, and yet – in spite of this – he had not paid her attention recently, allowing her to spend almost every minute with Lord Sharpthorne and giving no indication that he objected to this state of affairs.
“May I have another cup of tea?” she asked at last, holding out her imaginary cup.
“Of course, my love,” he responded, taking it and obediently pretending to pour. “You may have anything you wish.”
“May I? But I thought we had not enough money for fripperies.”
“I don’t think a cup of tea can be termed a frippery precisely. What would you like?”
She looked up at him, frowning. She was no longer sure whether she was acting or whether he was, but she knew, from the strange churning in the region of her stomach, that something had changed between them.
“I don’t think I want anything really,” she said slowly.
“Nothing? Nothing at all? My dear, have I become such a boring husband that you cannot think of anything I could give you to make you smile and perhaps say ‘thank you’?”
She shook her head. “I think you’ve already given me everything I could possibly want.”
“But you won’t take it,” he murmured, holding out the imaginary cup towards her.
“I thought you had withdrawn it.”
“What? What did you think I had withdrawn? Whatever I have offered in the past - pray take this cursed cup – is yours for ever. It was only that I did not want to importune you.”
“I thought you had stopped loving me.”
“No; it is you who has stopped loving me.”
She shook her head, but it was not so much in denial of what he had said as a sort of attempt to clear away the fog of uncertainty which seemed to surround her.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said, no more ready to commit herself to him than to Stonegate.
“Are you asking me for advice?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I think you’re the only person who loves me enough to give me your unbiased opinion.”
“Good Lord! I am about the most biased person in the world. On what do you seek my judgment?”
“Whether I should marry your brother.”
“You have given your word, have you not?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he’d mind if I didn’t keep it. He’s not in love with me, is he?”
“I don’t know. I find it hard to conceive of any man not being in love with you. If you cry off, what will you do? Marry Sharpthorne?”
“Heavens, no! I’m not in love with him – and nor is he with me!”
“Do you not think so? He follows you around everywhere and you spend every minute whispering in each other’s ears and laughing together. Has he not declared himself? I suppose he must be reluctant to abuse Frederick’s hospitality. No doubt he will write to you when he leaves.”
“Oh, but that’s not love!” she exclaimed. “We rub along very well together, and it is fun to have someone to talk to who isn’t very serious and who thinks I’m good company – but it’s not love!”
“How do you know?”
“My heart doesn’t beat faster, my legs don’t feel weak, I don’t wake up in the morning longing to see him – and I don’t want to kiss him!”
“Good Lord! Perhaps you’re not in love with him, but I should think he’s bound to be in love with you! Very likely he can’t sleep at night for thinking of you!”
“No, he doesn’t,” she answered soberly. “You’re going to ask me how I know – and perhaps how I know that Stonegate isn’t in love with me either - and I’m going to tell you: it’s because neither of them looks at me the way you used to.”
“Don’t I still?”
“I don’t know; I try not to look at you.”
&n
bsp; “I know.”
“And looking at one eye is unnerving and makes it difficult to read your face. Can I see the other?”
“Why do you want to? Do you wish to renew your sense of distaste – is it growing a little less intense?”
“No,” she said with a look of shame, adding, “I own I did find it distasteful at first, but I do not now. It was such a shock seeing the scar and it looked so painful – was it?”
“Yes.”
“And is it less so now?”
“Yes; everything hurts a little less except my arm, which hurts a little more.”
“It hurt when I tried to help you up that first day in your house,” she reminded him. “I hope I did not damage it further.”
He smiled. “That was because you yanked my wrist in the wrong direction. I was afraid it would snap. I own I had no idea you were so strong.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, as she had at the time, only this time she did sound apologetic.
“As a matter of fact, it is since then that the feeling has been gradually returning to my hand so perhaps you did me a power of good.”
“Did I? Why didn’t you say so before?”
“Because I was not certain. Do you think I’ll look as dashing as Fielding one day?” he went on, returning to the injury which he was convinced she found the most distressing.
“Oh, much more, for you are handsome and he is not; he is well enough but, in truth, I think his scar gives him a sort of dash which he would not have otherwise!”
“So you have not fallen for the Major? Has your aunt?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s my belief she still loves Mr Ripley, although he sounds like the most horrid sort of man. I don’t think she’s interested in finding a replacement.”
“Do you think that, if someone loves very deeply, they will never quite recover from losing that person?”
She frowned. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I thought I would never love anyone but you and I haven’t – not yet anyway!”
“I suppose you haven’t met the right man,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you will tomorrow night at Frederick’s miniature ball.”
Chapter 26
The miniature ball, as Archie called it, comprised a mere thirty couples. Lord Stonegate had invited several of them at short notice when the soldiers turned up. He had, before their arrival, planned to give a dinner party – with dancing afterwards – to enliven his fiancée’s visit - but, now that there were three more men in the party, had decided to expand the numbers, employ a group of musicians and turn the evening into a small ball.
In the last few days Colonel and Mrs Mott-Ripley had been added to the guest list, along with their eldest son – a youth of some twenty summers – and eldest daughter – a maiden of no more than seventeen. The Earl, by including the two young people, hoped not only to dilute the vulgarity of their mother but also provide a diversion for the young people staying in the Castle. He thought that Letty might be amused by the young man and the soldiers by the damsel, thus sweetening the antipathy which might otherwise surface between members of a cavalry regiment and an infantry one.
On the morning of the ball the Castle resounded to the noise of furniture being moved and servants bustling hither and thither as they prepared for the evening; flowers were cut and brought inside, glass was polished, china was dusted and the cook and his minions were busy from the moment dawn broke.
While all these preparations continued apace, the residents became over-excited – and anxious - about what they should wear.
“I didn’t bring a ball dress,” Letty complained.
“No more did I,” Aspasia agreed, thinking that she did not in fact possess such a garment, not having attended anything resembling a ball since her mother had taken her to the assembly rooms where she had danced repeatedly with Mr Ripley.
The two women had been desultorily discussing this omission for the last few days – ever since the Earl had confided his intentions to them – but had not done much about it, mainly on account of the programme of entertainments being so crammed that there had not been time to drive into the nearest town to purchase suitable apparel. But this morning, with less than twelve hours to go before they must prepare themselves to receive the guests, the topic had become more pressing.
The Earl had appeared at the breakfast table looking pale, made no pretence of eating anything and seemed unable even to drink the cup of black coffee which he had poured.
In spite of this evidence that he was suffering from an extraordinarily ill-timed indisposition, he did not fail to notice the anxiety of his female guests and enquired as to the source of their consternation. Upon being made aware of their difficulty, he abandoned the coffee and ordered the carriage to be made ready to carry them to Tunbridge Wells where he assured them they would have not the least difficulty in purchasing new dresses - and indeed anything else they felt they would need for the evening.
This generous offer met with a frown from Aspasia.
“What is the matter now?” he asked a little impatiently. “There will be plenty of time for you to get there, find something suitable and get back.”
“I did not bring much money,” she muttered.
He smiled. “Oh, you need not be exercised by that. You have only to tell the proprietors of whichever shops you use to send the bill to me. You can pay me back later if that is what is causing you to frown so horribly!”
“They will think I am your peculiar,” she murmured, not as shocked as she pretended for she had, since his declaration, thought long and hard about how she would respond if, unable to obtain a divorce, she were to be offered carte blanche.
“If I were you I would not allow myself to be concerned about what people think. They will not dare to voice their opinions and, if they do, I advise you to leave the shop immediately and take your custom elsewhere. In any event, Letitia is my betrothed.”
“Very well; thank you,” she said humbly, judging from his white face and impatience that he felt too unwell to argue.
“And pray do not choose the sort of dress you consider proper for a chaperone,” he added, rallying slightly.
“At least I know what sort of garment is suitable for a chaperone,” she muttered. “I would be all at sea if I were to look for something less respectable. I believe I should wear a cap; that will surely set everyone’s minds at rest.”
“Oh, please not!” he begged. “As you are my guest, I shall be obliged to stand up with you even if you insist upon wearing something so absurd, but I must tell you now that I abominate them!”
“I should properly have been wearing one all the time I have been here,” she admitted, “but am ashamed to say I do not own one.”
“Then for Heaven’s sake do not alter that entirely admirable position,” he begged, handing her into the carriage. “I will not pay for a cap!” he added threateningly, closing the door upon them.
“Oh, I think I can find enough small change in my reticule to buy one myself,” she retorted.
As the carriage went over the drawbridge and set off in the direction of Tunbridge Wells, she said, “His lordship did not look well this morning. Do you suppose the dinner last night was too rich?”
“I did not think it any more so than any of the other dinners we have had,” Letty said, “but I suppose that, if your digestion is weak, it may be a matter of nothing more than an extra spoonful of butter which tips you over the edge into indisposition.”
“The buttered lobster was delicious,” Aspasia said thoughtfully. “If one were not afraid that the menu in paradise might be rather worthy, I believe I would think it the food of angels. I suppose it could have been that which has overset him. I hope he will be restored by this evening.”
“Indeed,” Letty agreed in a sprightly tone. “For I am certain he is looking forward to leading you out whether you are dressed like a chaperone or not. To tell you the truth, I am becoming increasingly afraid you are about to run off with my fiancé.�
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“What?” Aspasia exclaimed, blushing furiously.
“Oh, you can have him if you wish,” Letty said kindly, “for, as you know, I do not want him and when you are Lady Stonegate you can take me to London and present me to the Queen!”
“Letty! I cannot conceive what has made you say such a thing,” Aspasia began, still very red in the face.
“Well, I know you think I am only interested in myself,” Letty said, “but I have eyes in my head and, really, Aunt, you would have to be quite blind to have missed the way you and he hang about each other whispering and laughing. I should think even the Countess must have noticed!”
“I am sure she has not,” Aspasia said tartly, thus more or less admitting the accuracy of her niece’s observation. “She is even more self-centred than you, my dear!”
“Yes, but what exercises her so extremely is who will marry Stonegate, and what whoever it is will decide to do about her, so I should think she would be paying close attention to whom he speaks to – and mostly that is you, Aunt. He barely looks at me. I know she dislikes me excessively and is – quite rightly – afraid that I will send her away if I marry him. I would – instantly! She watches me like a hawk but has, fortunately, misinterpreted my conversations with Lord Sharpthorne. I think she is hoping that I will run off with him; until now I don’t think she’s paid you much attention – probably because you may still have a husband – but, if she knew what I know, she would be a deal more worried.”
“What do you know?” Aspasia asked faintly.
“That you are at bottom an exceedingly improper person who sets almost no store by respectability. Papa was fooled too; if he’d had the least idea that there was any danger of my chaperone becoming my betrothed’s mistress, I cannot conceive it likely that he would have entrusted me to you. Why, at this rate, he will have me home unwed and will look a perfect fool for sending me off with such a person as you, Aunt!”
“I had no idea you had such a vivid imagination,” Aspasia said after an awful pause.
“If you mean to pretend that I am making up the whole, I beg you will not!” Letty said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress her laughter. “It is as plain as the nose on your face and, if you have been wondering why Major Fielding has not been more forthcoming, there is your answer. He can see it! Dear Aunt, do not make that disapproving face as though it is I who is behaving improperly.”
Letitia Or The Convalescent Heart Page 22
