Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice

by Heidi Ashworth

  “We shall see about that. Perhaps even as soon as tonight,” she suggested as she tipped her shining face up to his. “And there is always tomorrow.”

  Colin declined to say so aloud, but he had hopes of discovering the ladies from India at the Russell’s do. However, it was not to be. To make matters worse, he received so many compliments on his imperial green waistcoat that he dared not wear it again the following day. He was persuaded Miss Armistead should appear in her best color sooner rather than later, but it seemed that such a happy convergence would have to wait.

  He awoke earlier than he wished after a long night at his sister’s side fobbing off unwanted advances from nearly every man present. Analisa insisted that they merely wished to dance with her, but he had a darker view of the matter. Once he was awake, however, he thought of little else but Miss Elizabeth Armistead. That she had agreed to join him and his sister on their visit to the museum was splendid, indeed. That no note crying off had arrived seemed nearly miraculous, especially in light of the ladies’ absence at the Russell’s ball the night prior. It was early days yet, however, and he forced himself to occupy his time with something useful, with only periodic journeys to the front hall to ascertain whether or not a correspondence had arrived.

  He had not forgotten that most of the house was still in need of modification and his thoughts turned continually to the garish suite of rooms that Cecily had once hoped to occupy. A bedchamber, a sitting room and a dressing room, done up in mawkish shades of lavender, lilac and violet comprised the rooms deemed for the use of the lady of the house. However, Colin felt that any true lady of fashion should prefer something a bit more modern such as Pomona green and primrose.

  It should require that the brand new carpet be taken up, replacement draperies for the bed and windows be devised and the wallpaper be stripped and rehung but he would be glad to bear the expense; he knew in his heart of hearts that he should never wish to call on his wife in a room that spoke so clearly of Cecily. Instructions to his housekeeper on how she should apprise the decorators took up the better part of his morning until at last, the hour for his departure for the British Museum had arrived.

  He tooled his curricle as far as his father’s establishment whom he had hopes had been enjoined by Analisa to allow them the use of the family coach as they were to be so large party. Colin, pleased to see that the coach was already in front and waiting when he arrived, had but enough time to hand off the reins of his vehicle to a groom before Analisa was seen springing down the front steps of the townhouse.

  “You are looking quite the thing,” Colin said as he handed his sister up into the carriage. “And yet, such a vision is not sufficient to force my eyes open after last night’s festivities. If only they had not slipped into the wee hours of the morning.”

  She waited until he was seated across from her to reply. “Do not say that you regret having escorted me there. I am fatigued beyond bearing, but it was ever so delightful. I can’t think of a time when I danced so often or for so long!”

  “You have only been out for a fortnight, m’dear. There will be other balls, many other balls, at which you shall dance all night and find it difficult to stir from your room before two or three in the afternoon.”

  “How terribly exciting! Now, let us discuss Miss Armistead and how you are to win her heart.”

  “We shall do nothing of the sort. It is clear as crystal that she is very much looking forward to her upcoming nuptials and life on that wild, deserted stretch of Scotland,” Colin insisted.

  “Oh, but you don’t believe that, do you? I suspect she hardly does herself. She has made a grand gesture and she requires your help in getting her out of it.”

  “And how should I do that?” he asked with the realization that he truly desired to learn the answer.

  “I don’t know, at least not yet. However, you are older and wiser than I and I am persuaded that, between the two of us, we shall think of something that answers.”

  “Ana, you know that she will never cry off. It is not in her to be so false. It leaves me with very little to choose from. I can hardly snuff him out,” he said with a rueful laugh. “Aside from the immorality of it, what is there in such an action that should make her love me?”

  “Oh, but you do not understand,” Analisa insisted. “She already loves you quite desperately. The fact that she does not know it yet is a mere trifle.”

  Colin stared at his sister for some moments before he replied. “Have you run quite mad? For a chit of seventeen to know enough of love to recognize it in another young lady, that is one thing. However, for you to say she does not know even her own heart whilst you do is bold, indeed.”

  “Oh, Colin, shall you never learn?” Analisa asked as she arranged her skirts to advantage. “Women are so very perceptive about one another even while they remain without a notion as to their own state of mind.”

  “I see,” Colin agreed in spite of his reservations. “Am I to apply that to you, as well?”

  “Oh no, not I!” she said in some astonishment. “How can you ask? Have you ever known me to be in any doubt as to my own mind? The very idea!”

  Colin laughed outright. “Somehow I thought you should say precisely that.”

  “Do be quiet, Colin, and let me think on how we might solve the problem of her current engagement.”

  Colin sighed. “Am I to believe that you shall have arrived at a means for me to woo Miss Armistead under Mr. Cruikshank’s nose in the next moment or two?” he asked as he tugged at his gloves and adjusted his hat.

  “But, what else?” Analisa asked in all sincerity.

  “My dearest Ana, life does not always cooperate with our desires though there is no mystery as to why you should believe otherwise,” he said with a wry smile. She was not best pleased by this revelation and the two of them kept their own council for the remainder of the journey. Colin spent most of it in hopes that the apprehension he felt did not show in his face or manner.

  The coach came to a halt in front of Lady Augusta’s townhouse and it seemed an inordinate length of time before anyone came to the door once the driver had alighted from the box and rapped. Just when Colin thought perhaps no one was home or they were all still abed or had, perhaps, succumbed to a sudden fatal illness, the door turned on its hinges and Miss Hale squeezed through the doorway before the driver had a moment to divulge his purpose.

  “Oh!” Miss Hale cried through the open window of the carriage as she peered inside. “I have been so looking forward to our little tryst!”

  “Doubtless you have, as well?” Colin teased his sister, one brow cocked in surprise. “Though, we mustn’t forget the others,” he said as he opened the door from the inside and let down the steps. “They are coming as well, are they not?”

  Miss Hale’s smile fled. “Yes, of course. I am persuaded that Mrs. Armistead should not let me attend without her chaperonage. Naturally, it should have been vulgar to deny Elizabeth and Lady Augusta the chance to come along, as well.”

  Colin looked to Analisa and beheld the self-same expression of consternation gazing back at him. “Miss Hale, we are delighted that you are well and able to attend the museum with us,” he said as he reached out his hand so that she might enter. “We should not have dreamed of excluding a single one of you,” he said firmly.

  Miss Hale only took his hand in reply and entered the coach, however, she waited so long to take her seat that Colin was forced to stand, bent over, face to face with her. “Miss Hale, please do sit,” he asked.

  “I suppose I should yield the forward facing seat to the older ladies,” she remarked as she sat on the bench opposite. Colin could hardly be less gallant and was forced to sit next to her. When the other ladies were handed up they availed themselves of the places next to Analisa while Miss Hale indicated that he should slide to the far side so that Miss Armistead was left to take up the seat two places down from him. As such, Colin was denied anything much more than a glimpse of her profile through the la
ce trimmed brim of a fetching toque. It was old rose in color and matched a very smart spencer, both of which served to accentuate the rose of her cheeks.

  “Good afternoon Lady Augusta, Mrs. Armistead, Miss Armistead,” Colin greeted them in turn. To his dismay, Miss Armistead afforded him nothing more than a glimpse from beneath her lashes and a very low “Good day”. He was tempted to wonder what he might have done to offend her but, after a thorough review of every word they had spoken two nights previous, knew there was nothing.

  “Miss Elizabeth seems to be in a lusterless frame of mind, today. May I inquire as to why?” he queried.

  “I can conceive of no reason, Mr. Lloyd-Jones, why you should find me in a mood other than contemplative. I am most eager to explore the treasures of the museum, as are each one of us, I do assure you.”

  Colin shot his sister a look to gage her reaction, but her face revealed little and she remained silent.

  “I daresay you were out quite late at some ball, though not at the Russell’s, is that not correct?”

  “You are quite wrong, Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” Lady Augusta replied. “Elizabeth’s mother and I determined that it would be best if the girls stayed in so as to be assured that they were both free of illness. We did not wish them to miss their outing today.”

  “I am humbled by your wisdom,” Colin said with an inclination of his head. “My sister and I have been anticipating our visit to the museum today, as well.”

  “I am persuaded that I did, at one time, visit the museum when I was quite young,” Mrs. Armistead remarked. “But that was some time ago. I understand that there are many new and marvelous items to be viewed as of late.”

  “Yes,” Colin was happy to confirm. “There is the marvelous Rosetta Stone of which I am persuaded you have heard as far away as India and the Townley sculptures which have prompted our visit here today. Sadly, the Elgin marbles have not, as of yet, been moved to the museum but it is said that they will be by this time next year.”

  “I do appreciate antiquity as much as the next lady, I hope,” Lady Augusta replied, “though I am not anxious to view the sculptures of which you have spoken. I have heard tell of the young man, in particular, who hasn’t a stitch of clothing to his back. It is not suitable for the eyes of decent women, I daresay.”

  Colin smiled. “As I have not seen it as of yet, I am not in a position to verify or dispute, however, I have been told that it is wondrous to behold. Surely, a piece of cold marble, no matter how it is formed, is not the same as when adorned in flesh and blood.”

  “Do not be in such a pother, Augusta,” Mrs. Armistead suggested. “It is art and, as such, it can only be unexceptionable.”

  Colin could not help but wonder how Miss Armistead viewed this exchange and longed to be able to read her face. Worse were his thoughts along the lines of how he was to get ahold of her arm as they descended from the carriage with Miss Hale between them. Doubtless she had foreseen this very circumstance and had devised a plot to place herself at his side so as to be the one on his arm. If so, she must have counted herself rewarded as, once free of the carriage, there was naught for him to do but offer it to her as Miss Armistead had already moved on ahead with her mother and aunt.

  “Well,” Analisa murmured as she took his other arm, “we are thwarted for a time but not defeated.”

  Colin ignored her and concentrated on ensuring all of the ladies made it up the first flight of stairs and through the front door of the establishment. Lady Augusta in particular was already showing signs of wearing thin. Once they were safely inside, he returned his attention to Miss Hale. “I don’t believe I posed you the question; are you a lover of art?”

  “Oh, yes, I find it is a pleasant means to expand one’s mind. I am a dab hand at watercolors, but I have longed to make an attempt at oils.”

  “Then I am persuaded you shall enjoy the gallery of portraits. What say you, Miss Armistead? Shall we go first to the paintings before and then the sculptures?”

  She turned to look over her shoulder as she replied, but the brim of her bonnet was such that he saw very little of her expression. “I would be grateful if you put Katherine’s wishes above mine. I am content to view whatever she decides.”

  “Well, then,” Analisa whispered, “we now know which way the wind blows.

  Colin refrained from turning away from Miss Hale so as to whisper in his sister’s ear, but his thoughts were such that he wished to unburden his mind of them. That the women from India had determined that he should make an excellent catch for Miss Hale was more and more apparent, but he could hardly credit it. Certainly Miss Armistead had enough feelings for him as to constitute a natural desire for her friend to wed elsewhere. He hoped he did not credit himself too generously, but the fact that Miss Armistead was, at the very least, drawn to him was not in any doubt.

  And then he recalled her comments as to her interest in paintings, particularly those that depicted British history, and he felt his mood rise. “Let us do as Miss Armistead suggests and grant Miss Hale her wish to see the paintings.” Delighted to have discovered a way to make both of the younger ladies happy, he steered them to where entrance tickets could be purchased and bespoke six.

  “Mr. Lloyd-Jones, how kind,” a flustered Mrs. Armistead said. “Certainly it was our intention to pay for our own tickets!”

  “It is my pleasure, Mrs. Armistead,” Colin replied and turned in hopes of finding her daughter close to his side and the natural choice for his arm. She, however, was across the hall admiring the broad sweep of stairs that led to the upper gallery.

  “It is impressive, is it not?” he asked of Miss Hale who seemed far more attuned to treasures closer at hand. She took his arm and led him off to view the cluster of columns that supported the ceiling to either side of the entrance to the main gallery.

  “Yes, indeed, it is! It seems to be nothing but steps, steps and more steps. I do believe I shall be done in by the time we have arrived at wherever it is they have hung the paintings. It was quite farsighted of you to lend your assistance as I am persuaded I am the lady of the party least likely to manage such an ascent!”

  “Not at all, Miss Hale. I cannot believe that you, as the youngest of the group, save my sister, should have any trouble at all whatsoever. I expect it should be wise of me to offer my arm to each of the other ladies, in turn.”

  “I suppose that is only proper,” Miss Hale said slowly. “But of course, you are always all that is proper, Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” she added with a simpering smile.

  Colin subdued a sigh in the face of Miss Hale’s glaring attempts to incite his favor and turned to his sister. “And what of you, my poppet? Does your heart quail at the sight of so many stairs?”

  “Should it?” she asked, her eyes wide with suppressed levity. “Indeed, I shall prove to you my lack of need for anyone’s arm, even yours,” she retorted as she let go his arm and made her way up the stairs on her own.

  “That leaves one arm free for one of the ladies from India,” Colin invited, “both of whom must be as bitter towards the prospect of a great many steps as Miss Hale.”

  “Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” Miss Armistead replied as she turned away from her inspection of the vaulted ceiling to join in the discussion, “I profess to be quaking in my boots.”

  Colin lost no time in extending his free arm to her which she gratefully took. As the three of them proceeded up the steps, he felt that the tide had turned.

  Chapter Ten

  Elizabeth did not know when she had enjoyed herself more. To gad about on the arm of a handsome gentleman in a public place was an unknown indulgence in Bengal. It was most stimulating, even heady, and if the day never came to an end, she would have been most pleased. This, in spite of Aunt Augusta’s propensity to puff along beside them or lag behind. There was also the need to usher Elizabeth’s mother away from one treasure after another as they did their utmost to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to Katherine’s hopeless attempts to attach Mr. Lloyd-Jones’ interest.
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  Katherine displayed a lack of decorum in other ways, as well, none of which failed to vex all within her orbit. She disdained the portraits for depicting a quantity of personages most unattractive when she had hoped for landscapes; she proved that she cared nothing for books when she recommended they skirt the library section and made them each an object of fun when she viewed the Townley sculptures, most particularly “the man with the oatcake in his hand”.

  “It is not an oatcake, Miss Hale, but a discus,” Mr. Lloyd-Jones explained. Katherine exposed her ignorance when she treated his words to laughter as she tugged on his arm to lead him away. Elizabeth, however, would have liked to linger and indulge her fascination with the ability cold marble has to take on such a likeness of life.

  Mr. Lloyd-Jones turned to her, then, and, as if he did not wish to be overheard, leaned shockingly near. “I should be delighted to escort you hither on a day when Miss Hale is engaged so that we might peruse history to our heart’s content.”

  Elizabeth had the presence of mind to nod her agreement in spite of the disorder of her emotions she experienced at his closeness. She had most usually perceived men much as she did a marble statue; untouchable and stiff. From them she always was expected to keep her distance, to not become overly familiar, to observe and admire but never to know. She had come to understand the minds of the men close to her such as her father and Duncan, and she had stood on ceremony as she had danced with any number of them. However, as she clung to Mr. Lloyd-Jones’ arm, she enjoyed a lively awareness of the differences between a man carved of stone and one of living flesh.

  His warm breath against her cheek, the manner in which his shoulder brushed against hers, the rippling of his muscles under her hand, the warmth of her elbow caught tight against his side, each sensation served to call forth a delicious affinity for a form she had often seen as little more than a suit of clothes with a head. Every inch of her seemed to yearn for his touch, and yet, she had never so yearned for Duncan’s physical attentions. She had not even particularly enjoyed the small, dry kiss he had bestowed on her the evening prior to her departure from India. It had been the only kiss they had shared in all the weeks they had been betrothed and she had not felt the lack of it until now.