Lady Elizabeth's Comet

by Sheila Simonson

  Jean had gone pale with delight. "For me? Oh!" She gazed at the faded ribbon with enormous eyes. "Oh, Sims!"

  Bevis was watching Jean with a smile and Clanross watched her, too. He was frowning.

  "Oh, Sims!" Jean uttered finally. "Thank you very much. The Legion of Honour? Ohhhhh. Oh, my word, wait till Maggie sees it!"

  Everyone had to laugh at that, and Clanross's brow cleared.

  Such an occasion could not turn out other than happy. Bevis was inclined to teaze Jean, but she refused to be drawn. She was a heroine, and she had a ribbon to prove it. I thought it probable she would pin it to her nightrail.

  She consumed quantities of tea and bread and butter and ate Clanross's éclair as well as her own, for, as he pointed out with quite a human smile, he was still confined to curds and whey and somebody had to eat it or the cook would be disappointed. I hoped Jean might not be sick. I had sufficient presence of mind to keep the thought to myself, however, and before we left I went over to Sims and thanked him.

  "It was just the thing, Sims. I hope you won't miss it."

  "No indeed, me lady. I 'ave 'alf a dozen of the gewgaws. 'Twas the major's idea. I told 'im I thought Lady Jean deserved a medal, and 'e said give 'er one of your collection, Sims, you've plenty. So I said I would if 'e'd let me give it 'er meself. She liked it, din't she?"

  "I can't imagine anything she'd like better," I said truthfully.

  Bevis walked back to the Dower House with us to make his farewells, for he meant to set off early. That put a damper on my spirits, but nothing could spoil Jean's happiness. She was so much in alt that she clutched the precious box to her flat bosom and said nothing all the way down the drive. When we reached home she took off upstairs like a shot. Miss Bluestone followed at a more sedate pace.

  Bevis and I stood looking at each other. He had been joking with Miss Bluestone and the smile faded slowly.

  "Well, Liz?"

  I gulped. "I wish you needn't go."

  "So do I, my dear. Your nose is much less red today."

  I laughed shakily. "Goodbye, Bevis. Come back."

  Chapter 8

  Of our Christmas jaunt in Scotland the less said the better. Kitty is a bore and Lord Kinnaird a boor, and they both--when not engaged in marital duello--exclaimed over Clanross's near brush with death until I could have screamed. Fortunately, the twins and Alice contrived to say nothing of my nursing or I would have run mad.

  Jean's heroick conduct was made much of. She came a fair way to having her head turned. The only sensible person of the lot was Clanross's heir, Willoughby Conway-Gore, and he did not arrive until the goose turned on the spit, so to speak. The whole tedious business was retailed once more for his benefit, and he listened patiently but made no comment. Later he took me aside.

  "It seems I came within an ace of having to slough my idle, if blameless, way of living."

  "A near-run thing."

  "I wonder that no one heard word of it in Town."

  "I writ Anne the particulars before I left Brecon. They'll be on everyone's lips when you return."

  "Tedious."

  "You may well say so."

  "Poor Elizabeth, are Kinnaird and your estimable sister boring you?"

  "I confess to a touch of ennui, now you mention it."

  "If Bevis showed up at Brecon I daresay life was less flat there."

  "I prefer Bevis's conversation to Kinnaird's," I said with commendable calm. "I confess to so much oddity."

  "I don't find that odd. Bevis's presence at the side of the stricken earl, however, I do rather balk at."

  "They're friends."

  "A military bond?"

  "So it would seem."

  His eyes narrowed, and he took a pinch of snuff one-handed from his cloisonné box. "I wonder... Can it be that Dunarvon is the magnate who purchased Clanross's services? I perceive from your expression I have hit the mark bung on. Dunarvon! Good heavens." He began to laugh silently. "Perhaps we may expect that great draughty mausoleum to be adequately heated in future. I daresay Clanross's former employer will give him a cut-rate in seacoal."

  "Witty Willoughby."

  He cast me a searching look. "I begin to bore you with my small satires. I daresay they have already occurred to you. Speaking of satires," he added thoughtfully, "Kitty waxed somewhat malicious over Clanross during his Scotch stay. Does she retract?"

  "Endlessly. She sees herself drooping over the Dying Gaul." I straightened my shawl which had slipped off one shoulder. "Do you mean to visit Clanross at Brecon?"

  Willoughby affected exaggerated surprise. "My dear, why?"

  "No reason I can think of." I had offered the notion without considering it deeply. Listening to Willoughby, I thought merely what an ironic contrast he was to Clanross. "I confess I'd find the conjunction amusing."

  "Ah, I see. You wish to exercise your malice at my expense."

  "I daresay Brecon would prove dull for you. It was a passing thought, Willoughby. Pray disregard it."

  "I believe you're trying to whet my curiosity. Clever Elizabeth. Shall you show me your telescope?"

  "No, for you have no interest in such matters, and I show it only to enthusiasts."

  He shuddered at the word as I knew he would, and we smiled at each other, content to remain kin if not kind. I did not suppose he would bestir himself to make a visit.

  * * * *

  Coming home, we were nearly snowbound at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and the carriage lost a wheel just south of York. We contrived to return a mere week into the New Year, however, and I felt our escape was adroitly handled.

  We drew up before the Dower House at twilight--half past three. I expected Miss Bluestone at the door, but it seemed she had been with Clanross since midday. Doing what, for heaven's sake? It didn't matter.

  I left Alice to supervise the servants' unpacking and dashed out to inspect my instrument. The great refractor rested benignly on its chill cradle, not a speck on its lenses. Everything was neatly bestowed for the winter, and the storm damage to my platform proved minor. I made a list of repairs for Harris and the estate carpenter to set in train and retired to my room for a hot bath.

  Miss Bluestone appeared as Dobbins was dressing my hair. The governess was garbed in her hideous dinner gown, which she had brightened with a sprig of holly.

  "Good evening, my lady."

  "I'm glad to see you, Miss Bluestone. Perhaps you can begin to recivilise my sisters."

  "They seem in high spirits."

  "You've seen them already?"

  "Oh yes, and heard their account of Scotland. Lady Jean is getting above herself."

  "She was overpraised for her heroick deed. I wished Sims's Legion of Honour back in Spain."

  Miss Bluestone's middle age. Her eyes had gone vague. "I've been thinking. The real trouble with Jean's Legion of Honour is that Margaret hasn't an equivalent. Lady Margaret has so far shown only sisterly pride, but unless Jean moderates her flights, Margaret will begin to exhibit the envy I know she feels."

  "You're right. What can be done?"

  "I've suggested to Lord Clanross that Lady Margaret might enjoy a look at the estate ledgers. Her bent is mathematical."

  "What!" I opened my mouth and closed it again, fuming.

  Her eyes twinkled. "My idea. His lordship declines to collapse into the bracken again, so I fear Margaret's chances for heroick rescue will be limited."

  "That's small-minded of Clanross." Dobbins buttoned me up the back and down the sleeves. I picked up my shawl. "We'll have to refuse his kind offer of a course of estate management. Maggie won't be called upon to balance anyone's books but her own."

  Miss Bluestone sighed. "His lordship predicted you would say that. Very well, my lady. Some other solution will present itself."

  I felt some resentment that Clanross should anticipate me so accurately, but I did not propose to puff off at Miss Bluestone, nor did I mean to give in. Accounts, indeed. Very bourgeois of his lordship.

  Dinner was
dull. Jean and Maggie gobbled and squabbled. Alice recounted every dreary Scotch moment for Miss Bluestone's edification, and I missed Bevis. After a particularly tedious recital of Kitty's last dinner party I turned the subject ruthlessly.

  "All is well, I take it, at Brecon."

  Miss Bluestone said cheerily, "Oh, yes. His lordship is recovering nicely from his fall and cook has decided not to leave. Mr. Jenkins..."

  "What fall?"

  "Did you not receive my letter? What a shame. It's of no significance now, fortunately."

  "Miss Bluestone," I said with truly heroick patience, "what happened to Clanross?"

  "Why, merely he was walking in the gallery--the long corridor, you know, with your ancestral portraits."

  "I know!"

  "He stopped, he said, to take in the full glory of the Holbein likeness of the eighth baron, and when he turned to come back to the withdrawing room he overbalanced. Fortunately, no bones were broken, but he sustained some bruises and pulled a muscle in his back. Mr. Wharton was understandably piqued. He did not at all approve his lordship's essays at walking, which he believes premature. I must say, however, I think his lordship right to try. It cannot be healthful to lie so long abed."

  "If he is now once more confined to bed..."

  "Oh, he's not," Miss Bluestone said calmly. "He has kept up his strolls. On a reduced scale. When I threatened to inform on him, he promised to go no farther than the withdrawing room. He's making excellent progress. Next week he says he'll try a stick."

  "Do you mean to say Clanross was on crutches when he fell?"

  "Why, of course, my lady. He was quite unable to stand without them."

  "You seem to have spent more time at Brecon than we anticipated."

  She considered. "I don't believe I encroached."

  "I'm sure you didn't," I said hastily. "I hope you were able to pursue your own interests, however."

  "I did. Merely, I looked in on Lord Clanross every day and we dined from time to time. I used the library for hours and I explored the grounds with the aid of the estate room map..." Her voice trailed.

  I could see the idea come to her. Maggie should be induced to give her estate map to Clanross. Now why hadn't I mentioned that possibility?

  Miss Bluestone did not burst out with her grand idea. She tucked it in the back of her mind and went on eating. It is unnerving to be able to read someone's thoughts. I wondered if I should ever start to read Bevis's. That would certainly take the mystery out of matrimony.

  After dinner we retired early.

  When I awoke the world was white and grey, but not prettily so. The wind howled, blowing snow obscured even the woods, and the temperature had plummeted. Dobbins shivered as she brought my quilted dressing-gown, and our breath danced on the air.

  "Build up the fire, Dobbins."

  "I did, my lady." Her teeth chattered.

  "Well, let me jump into my gown, then, so you can escape to the kitchen. I daresay it's the only warm place in the house."

  She sniffed.

  * * * *

  It stormed for three days, and at the end drifts piled above Jem's head in the carriageway. We had had a providential escape, for I did not like to think what might have happened had the storm overtaken us when we lost the wheel on the way home from Scotland.

  After breakfast on the fourth day I encountered Miss Bluestone in the foyer, bundled and determined.

  "Good heavens, ma'am, have the girls mutinied? Why are you going out?"

  "I intend to walk to Brecon."

  I stared. "I can't allow it, Miss Bluestone, nor do I see why you should think it necessary."

  She looked at me, mouth set. "I wish to inform his lordship of your safe arrival. He was not apprised of it when you returned. I daresay he will be imagining the carriage in a snowbank."

  I said gently, "We aren't sufficiently acquainted for him to feel great anxiety in our behalf, Miss Bluestone."

  She regarded me dubiously.

  "Truly."

  She sighed. "I shan't attempt it, if you dislike it, my lady."

  "I'll ride up later today."

  Her brow cleared, and she began divesting herself of mufflers and shawls. "You're very kind, my lady."

  I made no reply. I did not deserve her praise, for in truth I merely wished to escape the confines of the house.

  * * * *

  The ride was an adventure. The lake was frozen. Brecon looked an ice palace.

  I dismounted by the front entrance and gave Jem the reins. It was an ice palace inside, too. The air in the foyer differed from that outside only in the absence of wind. Jenkins, blue as a footman's livery, creaked and shivered his way up the marble stair ahead of me. Our breath hung over us in clouds.

  "Lady Elizabeth Conway, my lord," Jenkins quavered. There was a fire, this time welcome, on the hearth. I made for it.

  Clanross had been standing by the great windows, leaning on his crutches, when I entered. I had forgot how tall he was. He contrived to turn round in time to greet me.

  "Lady Elizabeth."

  "My lord. I perceive you are somewhat more mobile than when I saw you last. My felicitations."

  "Thank you," he said curtly. "Jenkins, have Sims bring up some hot chocolate for her ladyship." Jenkins wavered out.

  "Chocolate!"

  "You'd prefer brandy?"

  "Er, not at this hour. Have you run short of tea?"

  "No. I thought schoolgirl idiocy deserved an appropriate libation." He creaked over to a stiff-backed chair and sat by stages.

  "If you mean my ride up the hill through the drifts, it was a mission of pure charity."

  "Indeed. Good Queen Wenceslaus?"

  I had to admire that. "Miss Bluestone was assured you'd be in a perfect stew of anxiety lest my sisters and I had been stranded by the storm. I tried to point out the likelihood of your indifference, but only my promise to act the messenger allayed her fears."

  We eyed each other warily. He set the crutches aside. "That appears to dispose of that subject. What shall we discuss next, I wonder? How are Lord and Lady Kinnaird? Flourishing, I trust."

  "In the pink. I restrained Kitty from flying to your side when she learned of your mischance."

  "You're too officious, ma'am. I'd enjoy repaying Lady Kinnaird's hospitality."

  "Watching her turn to ice in the Brecon dining room? No, really, Clanross, she can't have been that dreadful to you."

  "Dreadful? Not at all. I'd break the ice on her soup for her myself."

  We both began to laugh.

  I said ruefully, "I don't think you'd find Kitty's affections half as amusing as her portrait of Lady Disdain." I was willing to lay pounds to shillings that Kitty had snubbed him unmercifully. "Willoughby Conway-Gore conveys his greetings and begs you will not break your neck in the near future."

  "Am I to be allowed to do so later?"

  "He's pleased with his dissipations at the moment. Who knows what immortal yearnings may come over him in a year or so?"

  "I'll study to oblige him. Ah, Sims."

  Sims set the tray on the table beside me. "There's chocolate for 'er ladyship, sir, and coffee in case you was wanting something."

  "Thank you."

  "Hullo, Sims," I said.

  Sims beamed. "Me lady. There now, din't I say you'd be safe as 'ouses? We was a bit anxious-like when the storm blew up."

  The merest flush tinged Clanross's cheekbones.

  "I'm obliged for your concern, Sims," I said gravely. "Lady Jean wishes to be remembered to you."

  "Very kind of 'er ladyship, I'm sure." He trundled out with satisfaction writ on the back of his massive neck.

  I forbore to twist the knife. "Coffee or chocolate?"

  "Both."

  "What!"

  "Try it."

  I did and the combination was surprisingly pleasant. "And Bevis said you have no palate."

  "His is overnice."

  "Has he writ you?" I trust my voice did not betray unmaidenly eagerness.r />
  "Once. Dunarvon didn't eject him from the castle."

  "Nor show him a damned disinheriting countenance?"

  Clanross took a reflective sip of the mocha concoction. "I don't believe he can. Primogeniture, my lady. A peculiarity of English law you have reason to be acquainted with."

  "And you."

  "Just so."

  I must confess I liked his sparring style. I said impulsively, "I daresay when you and Bevis converse it's like a tennis match."

  He smiled again. He had a pleasant smile. "We confine ourselves to primitive grunts. He returns in March, by the way."

  "So late!" I could have bit my tongue--no discretion.

  "He wants to conciliate his father, and there's also the sale of his commission to attend to."

  "I'd forgot that." I searched for a subject to give a less gloomy turn to my thoughts. "Has Dunarvon forgiven you?"

  "I believe he had no reasonable cause for complaint. I left the books in order and trained my replacement."

  "Dunarvon has never been reasonable in his life. And speaking of books, I do not approve your plan to turn Maggie into a bookkeeper."

  "I thought you wouldn't." He set the cup on the tea table. "Miss Bluestone will be disappointed, but she'll think of something else."

  "I believe she has. Are you ready to sacrifice the map in the estate room?"

  "It has no happy associations, but why?"

  "Maggie is doing a three-colour topographical plan of the estate. I suspect Miss Bluestone will desire you to praise it."

  "I'll frame it if need be."

  "That's not a bad idea. Maggie's nose is out of joint."

  "Yes, I should have foreseen it."

  "And warned Sims?"

  "What? Oh, Sims. Yes, of course. I--that is, we did not then know Lady Margaret." He took his crutches and rose again in stages, like a dromedary.

  "Is that a signal for me to leave?"

  "No." He balanced precariously and steadied himself. "Merely, I find standing less awkward than sitting."

  He meant less painful. I watched him lurch over to the window. Perhaps Charles Wharton was right. Perhaps Clanross should not be exerting himself so soon. I restrained my impulse to question him about his progress and said lightly, "What do you do to amuse yourself?"