The Indian Maiden

by Edith Layton

  She was not a superstitious woman, so she did not spit or make signs as a peasant might, to ward off imminent evil. She was a lady, so she only flew into a vile temper and then proceeded to reduce every female in her employ to tears that morning, and every male to thoughts of murder, with the exception of her husband, as that gentleman, under cover of the general distress, crept off, gratefully, to his club.

  Lord Deal, just as the duchess imagined, was busy explaining the myriad sights and sounds of his city to Miss Hamilton. She, in turn, said not a word, but only walked at his side, wide-eyed as a child, so overawed that she didn’t even notice that she kept to an unusual complete unbroken silence. Some weeks ago she’d gone directly from the docks to the countryside and then to Marchbanks, and in her weariness and gratitude at being on dry, unmoving land at last, had noticed very little about the actual lands she traveled through. But now, though she somewhat absently realized she was dumbstruck as a country girl, she couldn’t as yet cope with her amazement at this great city.

  There were easily ten times more people thronging the streets here than she’d ever seen upon the pavements of New York, even during the great invasion scare when the militia had come to swell the ranks of the city. The traffic, the horses and carriages, the people of all classes and kind, and the noise they created was something quite out of her experience, although coming from New York, she’d previously considered herself a sophisticate.

  But as she did come from a great port city, she was used to the atmosphere of an Oriental bazaar that typified such commercial centers. So she scarcely blinked when they strolled past emporiums that vended everything from ribbons to carriages to great works of art. It was the manner and the ease with which these Londoners could fill their leisure hours which staggered her, as well as their actual numbers. There were museums here, and art galleries, as well as historic monuments at every turn. New York boasted one great theater that was the pride of the city, but here, evidently, there were as many to choose from as there were days to fill with amusement. Her escort spoke casually of concert halls and opera houses, ballet theaters, theaters for the drama, and still more that were solely music halls. He even mentioned one he might take her to some day, since, as he grinned, it was always a great favorite with the children, being specifically designed for productions featuring horses and equestrian displays.

  Her escort did not press her to speak, nor, she dimly perceived, did he, for the first time since she’d met him, seem to expect any reply to his comments. From time to time, he’d look down into her face, and had she been gazing back at him instead of at the sights around her, she would have seen his own expression soften. Yes, he thought, watching her drink in his city, he had made the right decision after all. Let her first sight of London be at this unfashionable hour, on these unfashionable streets, so that when she at last encountered those of the ton, she would already be acquainted with the scope of Town, and would not cause anyone to mock her as a rustic for her genuine confusion and amazement. There was enough talk about her, let her not be pilloried for her honest reaction to their world.

  Will had seen London when he’d been a youth, and yet he too remained quiet as his gentle guide pointed out interesting sites to him, and so she never knew that all that enchanted and amazed him to silence was her own soft voice and lovely face.

  It was when they had done with touring a great many streets of the city that Faith at last found her tongue. “It’s a lucky thing,” she said after Lord Deal had not commented on anything for a few moments, “that my enemies can’t see me now. Lord—and I don’t mean you,” she giggled, before he could say a word, “what an absolute bumpkin I’m being. But I swear, I’ve never seen the like!”

  “And you haven’t seen half of it as yet. Wait until nightfall, then I’ll show you how my city puts on all its airs and graces,” he replied, smiling, and before she could answer, he added gently, “Don’t fly up, I do know you’ve a theater at home—in fact, I attended some fine performances at the Strand there—but I look forward to showing you our theaters and Opera. Not so that I may belittle what you have, please believe me, but only so that I can brag a bit too. After all,” he explained, “I don’t have one savage tribe or fierce bear to impress you with, so I have to do the best that I can with our landmarks and history and entertainments.”

  “Oh dear,” she said ruefully, “you don’t understand—I do understand. That is,” she murmured in unease, ducking her head as she spoke, “I never tried to pull your leg, and not only because you’ve been to my country, but because there was never a need to. But I don’t think I’ll ever do it again, to anyone. You see,” she said, and from the way she stopped walking, drew in a breath, and then looked at him squarely, he knew that this was very difficult for her, “I’m very sorry I began the whole foolish thing. I think it was only because I felt so homesick and heartsick and out of place, and—ah, it doesn’t merit even discussing further. I apologized to Mary last night, and now, if I may, to you. Please, believe me, that’s all over with, I’m sorry for it, you were right. And if I was treated badly by those anonymous gift-givers, then I suppose I deserved no better.”

  Then she could say no more, but only looked down at the pavements again. Lady Mary and Will, seeing the other couple come to a halt, engaged in serious conversation, busied themselves by looking with exaggerated interest into a shop window filled with toys. The two maids were too preoccupied with gossiping about the housekeeper to try to listen, but even if they had, Lord Deal’s low-pitched tones would have gone no further than the straw margins of Faith’s downcast bonnet, as he intended.

  He was glad she’d given up the games she’d played and yet oddly displeased with himself for giving her advice, however good, that had eventually cast her down so low. She was a creature of spirit, to him she seemed very much a creation of the New World that had impressed him with all its vigor and promise. Had she been an obedient little miss, he doubted he would have passed an extra hour with her beyond that which the foreign office deemed absolutely necessary. As it was, he no longer cared that he no longer had any real reason to pursue an acquaintance with her, the fact that she never failed to engage his interest entirely was now reason enough.

  “Oh come,” he said softly, placing his hand lightly upon her cheek and waiting until she lifted that bent head and her clear gray eyes met his, “you were never meant to be a penitent, even if you had good cause. Which you don’t, you know. The house party is ended and so is all the talk along with it. It’s over and done and soon forgotten. Other, better scandals will come along to sweep your little peccadillos into a dusty corner. You don’t believe me?” He shook his shaggy head in mock sorrow and then said with determination, “Then come along and I’ll show you how minor your crimes are on society’s balance scales.”

  He tucked her arm firmly beneath his and then signaled to the others to follow. “It’s only a few streets from here. We’ll have a look in, and then we’ll have a leisurely stroll back before the sun gets too high. You didn’t bring a sunshade,” he said critically. “Now that is a far worse sin in the eyes of the ton than inventing tales to terrify their impressionable young people with. We’re off to Humphry’s,” he paused to tell Lady Mary as she approached with a question apparent in her eye, “to show Faith that there are even more infamous folk in London than herself.”

  “Oh yes, what a splendid idea,” Lady Mary cried. “It’s the very thing.”

  Faith wondered whether Lord Deal was going to lead her to someplace like Newgate Prison, which she’d read about in all the tour books before she’d even set foot upon the ship, but when she asked him that, he laughed so heartily that she flushed.

  “Oh no,” he answered after a pause in which he admired the way the pink tint mounted high along her cheekbones, before he felt ashamed of himself for putting that beautiful but doubtless painful cosmetic there, “not Newgate. This is a gallery of rogues far worse than that.” But he intoned this last so mysteriously she knew he was jes
ting.

  Even Faith knew when they approached their goal, for there were a few passersby paused in front of one shop, hands in pockets, or clasped behind backs, or in some cases lifting quizzing glass to the eye to better study all the bright prints on display in the huge bow window. Later in the afternoon, Lord Deal knew, there’d be a larger crowd, but he had counted on the fact that the day was too young for there to be very many of the ton collected on the sidewalk perusing the latest crop of caricatures offered for sale in the window.

  There were at least two dozen on display, and though he knew some of them would be rude, or crude, and possibly unfit for a young female’s inspection, he also knew there were few young females who somehow didn’t get a glimpse at most of them anyway. Still, he didn’t plan to give Faith enough time to inspect them in detail, it would be enough that she saw how many famous folk were vilified in them, and how others of them were persons she’d never heard of, nor would ever hear of again, though their names currently enjoyed a passing notoriety in London and its environs.

  He felt it would be salutary for her to see just how fleeting both fame and infamy were in the fashionable world. Because the Bourbon, Bonaparte, and Hanoverian gentlemen and each of their respective mistresses were by no means the only ones portrayed as fops and fools, and sold, gaily colored, for a few pence. The list of those ridiculed changed often and was a daily source of amusement to the public and a reliable register of the political mood of the nation, as well as a true chronicler of the gossip of the ton.

  The quartet drew near the window, and soon Faith was entranced by a vivid picture of the Regent at his play, and was so shocked and yet enormously titillated that she could scarcely tear her eyes from the depiction of his excesses. Will was grinning at a political cartoon, and Lord Deal was only watching Faith with vast amusement, and so when Lady Mary gasped, Faith was not the only one to pay no attention to her. But then, when Lord Deal said abruptly, “Come Faith, we must go,” she ignored him. When he tugged at her arm, she looked up at him in very real annoyance at the tone of his voice and his imperious treatment of her as well as at the way he interrupted her contemplation of the picture.

  “Really,” she complained, “you dragged me all the way here...”

  But then she saw his expression and knew there was something very much amiss. His tanned face seemed more yellowed than golden now and white lines were visible beside his tightly compressed mouth, though it seemed his eyes blazed. She looked quickly to Mary, but Mary was staring horrified, gloved hand to mouth, at a caricature to the left side of the window, even as Will attempted to guide her away. And then of course, Faith saw it.

  An immediate silence fell even as her gaze fell upon the picture, though at that moment Faith would not have been able to hear anything above the singing of her blood in her ears, just as she could not feel Lord Deal’s grip loosen on her arm. It was only after a long moment’s shame that would last the rest of her life, if only in her nightmares, that she could at last admit she could hear him and the world again.

  “Faith,” he said hesitantly. “Faith,” he repeated in sorrow, “I am so sorry. I did not know, I swear it. Come away. Come away now.”

  There was no further word said as he called a hackney coach. But after he helped Faith into it, he had brief, low words with Will before he leaned into the coach and said very simply, “I’ll follow soon. Wait for me. I must speak with you.” And no one asked to whom he spoke, for no one spoke again until the hackney reached the Duke and Duchess of Marchbanks’ townhouse once again.

  For, Faith thought on a repressed, choked laugh that had nothing to do with humor, what was there to say, after all? She could not even complain that it was a poor likeness. Of course, the naked breasts had been absurdly exaggerated—she was well, but not quite so blatantly, endowed. And she’d never worn the feathered headdresses that had been delivered to her, or even owned a breechclout, and certainly she would not have advanced upon Methley, the duke, Lord Deal, or any of the other gentlemen who’d been at Marchbanks with a wicked carving knife. And even if she had, they would not have quivered and cowered away from her as they did in the caricature, but then, it was titled, “The Wild Indian Takes Marchbanks by Storming It,” so she supposed it held to its own mad rationale. Oh, Faith sighed, now, she would go home now, it was enough.

  “But you cannot run now,” Lord Deal told her only a little while later as he paced in front of her in the morning room.

  There were some small things to be grateful for, Faith thought as she watched him rove the room, as a drowning woman might be relieved that it was warm and not cold waters she perished in. For the duchess hadn’t been home when she’d returned to the house, and now both Lady Mary and Will had flown in the face of convention and let Lord Deal speak with her alone. But then, she sighed, it might well also be that the pair, both more astute than she (as who, she corrected herself, was not?), had decided that it was impossible to sully her reputation any further and so knew that it hardly mattered if she were left alone with Lord Deal or a gang of riotously drunken convicts at this point. Her sigh was not unnoticed and the gentleman ceased his agitated pacing and spoke sharply to her.

  “Oh, I imagine you can go home, there’s no law against it, there are ships leaving weekly. Of course, you can go home. But I should think that if you ever want to be able to live comfortably with yourself, why then, you cannot. Of course,” he said caustically, coming to a halt in front of her, “it may be that things like honor and self-respect are not important to young females, I could scarcely be expected to know that, and it may also be that only we here in Britain place such a high premium of those qualities for either males or females.”

  “You know that is not so!” she cried, stung from wilting with sorrow in her chair to shoot up to her feet in fury.

  “Of course I do,” he said calmly, looking down at her and smiling, “but I thought I would remind you of it. I’ve found that shame and self-pity and misery are all very well in their place, but if you ever want to leave that dismal place, the first step is to get angry enough to move on. No doubt, in time you’d discover that for yourself—I did, in my turn. But I don’t believe you have that time to waste now, and as I’ve traveled the same road you’re on, it’s only fair for me to draw you a map of it.

  “Faith,” he said seriously, taking her two hands in his and gazing down at her, all humor gone from his face, “I suffered a great deal once because of other people’s unkindness. It took me a long while to understand that I had to make my own happiness, and disregard the rest. Tongues will wag and tales will be carried for so long as there is idleness, cruelty, and boredom in the world, and I don’t doubt that will be as near to forever as one can get. Likely someone spread nasty rumors about the saints in their day and probably, in a future so far ahead that we cannot conceive of it, gossip will still maintain the status of high art in certain circles. It will always be with us. I believe it goes with the human condition, like head colds or fleas.”

  When she grinned reluctantly, he smiled back at her and said soothingly, “It scarcely mattered if you’d been circumspect or not, you know. There would have been talk in any event. You just made it a bit louder and increased its volume in other ways. But no one with any sense will heed it for long, if you are not heedless yourself in future. After all,” he mused, freeing one hand to raise it and gently trace the contours along the top of her cheekbone, “it’s an obvious lie. Whoever heard of an Indian with freckles?”

  She stared into his long hazel eyes and whatever she imagined she saw there robbed his words of all their comfort and she drew back sharply.

  “Indeed,” she said brusquely, “I wondered at the name myself. I should have thought they’d call me a barbarian or a savage instead.”

  “Oh,” he said casually, though he looked at her very keenly, “but they already have a barbarian, the poor lady is a Russian princess who made the mistake of befriending a young lording of ours. And as for savage, they have no less tha
n two of those. When one, a young woman from Yorkshire, wed and settled into obscurity, they appointed another, some benighted young chit from the dales whose crime, like her predecessor’s, was that she had more money than documented ancestry.

  “Oh yes, there are a quantity of amusing names. We have a dozen ‘Naughty Sir Thises,’ and a score of ‘Dirty Lady Thats,’ as well as Popes and Priests, and one of my associates rejoices in the name Vicar simply because he’s known for having been extremely ungodly in his youth. There’s a Black Duke of the fairest complexion, whose recent history has been even fairer, though he’ll never shake the name, even as I shall be a Viking forever, though no ancestor of mine I know of ever did anything but run madly for cover the instant he spied the long boats coming. So too, Wild Indian in time can come to signify nothing. But why are you so very afraid of me?” he asked in exactly the same tone of voice that he’d used for all his reasonable discourse.

  That was why it took her a space of a few blinks to understand the question, and even then, she could not frame an immediate coherent reply.

  “You are, you know,” he persisted softly, “and it’s far more important, to me at least, than this matter of foolish names idle fools invent. I’ve thought about it and can’t believe it’s merely a question of propriety because I attempted to make love to you once, and looked as though I meant to more often than that. You ought to be used to reading such desires in a gentleman’s eye. And although a young woman may worry about a gentleman’s overstepping the bounds, in those cases, I’ve found she’s either apt to avoid him altogether, or to let him know in no uncertain terms that his next embrace will be tantamount to a declaration. But you make it a point to tell everyone you want no romantic ties, and until now you’ve made it clear you don’t give a fig for society’s conventions. So you see, if it’s neither your heart or your reputation you fear I’ll harm, your behavior’s rather puzzling, not to say outright insulting to me.