I smiled at him, teazing. "I believe you're bowled out, my lord."
He looked suspicious. "If you're going to make a May-game of this..."
"I? A May-game? I should say not. I'd like to meet Miss Carr."
Bevis's suspicions were not allayed. "To what end?" he demanded, grim.
At that I burst into laughter. "Oh, Bevis, you clunch, do you think I'd eat the child?"
He said stiffly, "She's not a green girl. She's four-and-twenty."
In spite of myself, I was gratified. "Then I trust she'll have the wit to appreciate your merits. Indeed, Bevis, I wish you happy."
"Thank you," Bevis muttered. "Thing is, I don't wish you unhappy, Liz."
I was touched and not sure what to say. I was also once more aware of Clanross's presence. He had given up on the window and was leafing through a book on the occasional table beside it with a dogged air. Views of Salop, by A Peripatetic Lady.
I forced my attention back to the matter at hand. "It's high time you were settled, Bevis," I said gently. "If Miss Carr suits you, then I'll dance at your wedding. Happily."
Bevis's face shone with relief. "You're a trump, Liz. If you mean it..."
I was rescued from further need to convince him by Anne's entrance. She greeted both men with her usual grace, but she darted me at least one questioning look before engaging Bevis in polite chitchat. I smiled at her blandly. I was grateful to Clanross for acting the gooseberry, though I suspected his presence had been intended to stiffen Bevis's backbone. Whatever his motive, I sensed his dislike of the role.
As he and Bevis took their leave, I tried to convey my thanks to Clanross with a speaking glance. Whatever the poets may suggest, the language of the eyes is subject to misinterpretation. He left looking troubled and confused.
I was confused. It relieved my mind to know Bevis was not heartbroken, and I believed his affections to be engaged. How long they would remain engaged was a question. Or perhaps not. It didn't suit my pride to be supplanted by somebody's niece.
Beneath these feelings ran a deep sense of regret that Clanross had been called upon to witness the scene. If he had fancied me still in love with Bevis, wouldn't he have expected me to fall into a swoon or burst into tears or, knowing my character, rail at Bevis like a fishwife? I was both afraid and hopeful that he had sensed my relief. Abruptly I found myself wishing I need not await his speech in the Lords. I longed to run safely to ground at Brecon. To do so would have been an egregious act of cowardice. While I'm capable of showing the white feather, I will not do it before an audience.
In those days I was keenly aware of Miss Bluestone's scrutiny. She saw a great deal. At least she said little. Anne was put off the scent by false leads--Bella and Bevis distracted her, or surely she would have seen my preoccupation with Clanross. She is ordinarily perceptive.
I daresay her mind was on politics. As the day of Clanross's maiden effort drew nearer, it became clear that he and Featherstonehaugh were in profound disagreement. I could not show much interest without betraying my partiality, so I kept mum.
On the great day, Anne, Alice, Miss Bluestone, the twins, and I crowded into Featherstonehaugh's carriage. No press of onlookers impeded our way. Debates in the Lords are not notorious for arousing publick enthusiasm. Featherstonehaugh was able to meet us early enough to settle us comfortably in the gallery. He looked glum. The girls were wide-eyed--Jean a little flushed, Maggie pale with excitement. I wondered what Miss Bluestone had been telling them by way of preparation. They had never heard our father speak.
I had. I sat through the day's leftover business remembering Papa. How lordly he had always looked. His style of speaking derived from the models of his youth--carefully wrought, ornate periods, allusions in graceful Latin, massive chains of deduction, sudden illuminating historical parallels. There had been no doubt of that Lord Clanross's opinion.
As I watched Thomas Conway rise in my father's place and launch himself with a minimum of prologue into his first address to his peers, I was far too caught up in my own feelings to perceive directly what must have been obvious to everyone else. There would never be any doubt of this Lord Clanross's opinion, either.
Clanross's voice is one of the pleasantest things about him. A middle-range baritone, he is ordinarily softspoken, so that I was entranced and not a little amused to hear with what ease his voice carried to the galleries. Probably that came of years of conveying orders to scared subalterns in the field.
I basked for perhaps a minute in Clanross's golden syllables, oblivious of their content. Glancing to my left, I caught sight of Anne's face and drew up sharp. What in the world? What he was saying began to register.
It was borne upon me that the object of my devotion was happily engaged in placing himself smack in the midst of the most extreme of the Radicals--of either House. He was actually opposing the Coercion Bill intended to pacify Ireland.
Every time a Coercion Bill came up it was ritually opposed by one of the Irish peers, then passed by an overwhelming majority. Clanross was not an Irish peer and Anne was not the only listener to be appalled. Never mind that what he said was reasonable. Never mind that it fit within the constitutional frame. It was not the time to be extolling Habeas Corpus. Ireland, sic erat perpetua, was on the verge of open revolt.
Anne might have secret Whiggish leanings, but she had never aspired to shake hands with Radicals like Leigh Hunt and Mr. Cobbett. Sir Francis Burdett did not move in her circles. Even as I felt a twinge of sympathy for her discomfort, I was aware of a larger sensation of delight. Clanross had well and truly set the cat among the pigeons. I stifled a chuckle.
I ventured a peek at Featherstonehaugh. He, too, looked glum, but there was about him the air of a man who has just heroically swallowed his scruples. He would support Clanross's stand. Clanross dispensed the patronage. Abruptly, my amusement died.
Did Clanross know what he was doing? I squirmed in my seat. There was something alien, something vaguely ungentlemanly, in forcing an Idea upon Featherstonehaugh. He was a goodhearted man, an amiable husband and father, and a skillful political agent. Papa had valued his skills and taken his opinions for granted. What could Clanross gain by humiliating Featherstonehaugh?
I stared at Clanross's lean, blue-clad figure, trying to understand what he was saying, trying to read the restrained gestures and composed voice. The very restraint that would prevent him from being taken as a model of eloquence convinced me that he spoke his mind. He dealt rather abstractly with the idea of the Union and whether or not it was to mean an honest extension of the constitution to include Irishmen as well as Englishmen. He did not, he said, believe that one could expect reverence for the rule of law from people who had experienced only the rule of force. It was all very logical.
Beside me, Maggie, bored, began to shift in her place. Jean was not bored. She listened, mouth slightly open, eyes narrowed, drinking in every word. Miss Bluestone was frowning.
Clanross spoke for a mere half hour, very crisp. Presently, the ritual Irish peer--looking gratified but startled to find himself with so unexpected an ally--commenced his ritual remarks. Rumblings and twitching from their lordships indicated that they were waiting to pounce.
"Let's leave," Anne hissed as the Irish baron subsided and the government spokesman, clearing his throat portentously, rose to reply.
I pretended not to hear.
The government lord was indicating that Clanross was an unlicked cub, in somewhat more elegant language, and did the noble lord realise the yearly cost of agrarian lawlessness in Ireland?
"Twenty-seven pounds, four, and sixpence on my Meath estate last year," Clanross shot back. "I don't see that this bill will necessarily lessen the cost."
The government lord indicated that Lord Clanross was pleased to be facetious.
Anne kept making discreet gathering noises, like a hen calling her brood. Miss Bluestone, who sat beside Maggie, began to look about for her reticule. I craned round her impatiently.
; I heard Clanross say, politely, that he had been addressing himself to the principle of Coercion, but he was quite happy to deal in the costs if his lordship preferred to shift the ground of discussion.
His lordship waffled. He did not mean to air the publick costs. It was private losses that had exercised the authors of the Bill, as everybody knew very well.
Anne was rising to leave. I did not mean to create a disturbance so I had no choice but to follow suit. I did so very slowly. Surely, Dunarvon did not wish to speak!
He did. He was going to back Clanross on the issue of costs. How wonderfully funny.
We began to file out, like a tribe of North American aboriginals on the warpath. I could hear Dunarvon's crotchety rumble as he cited the expense of keeping a line regiment on garrison duty in Dublin. That produced an indignant rejoinder from another government spokesman. In its ponderous, lordly way, the debate was heating up.
Dragging my heels, I cast a last longing look at the arena. Clanross was listening with grave attention, head cocked. Dunarvon had swollen several sizes. The Irish lord looked dazed, and the lord president showed signs of restlessness. He would squash this small rebellion soon. I did not doubt that the measure would pass. Very likely Clanross knew it would, but he had forced a moment of real discussion. In the Lords!
All the way home Alice kept up a flow of innocuous platitudes, which appeared to soothe the twins. She had probably not taken in ten words of the speech. Miss Bluestone was frankly brooding, Anne grimly silent. We lurched and rumbled into Cavendish Square in the sullen twilight.
As we descended from the carriage and climbed the shallow steps to my sister's townhouse, Jean whispered to me, "I think it was splendid, whatever Anne may say."
I gave her a conspiratorial wink. Jean grinned at me, relieved, and I caught Miss Bluestone watching us. Her brow cleared magically. I almost laughed aloud. Whatever Miss Bluestone might think about Ireland--and her thoughts would be judicious--she saved her anxieties for her charges. Clearly, she had feared Jean's disillusion, or mine.
By the simple expedient of retiring to my room as soon as we entered the house, I postponed Anne's explosion until I was dressing for dinner.
She burst in on me as Dobbins twitched the last of M. LeFleche's piled curls into place.
"That man! I shall never hold up my head again!"
I signalled Dobbins to leave us.
Anne was the picture of dramatic defiance, eyes brilliant, cheeks flushed becomingly, bosom heaving. I admired her pose for a moment then said mildly, "You have only to present yourself to the world as the new Mme. Roland and the trick is done. I believe Featherstonehaugh would approve."
"He speaks of retiring to Denbighshire," Anne wailed. "Oh, Lisbet, I'll die." She burst into sobs.
Featherstonehaugh's estate is in Denbighshire. The thought of either of them buried in that remote corner of the kingdom was comic in the extreme, but I bit back my laughter and comforted my sister as best I could. Presently, she grew calmer and sat up with a sniff from the chaise upon which she had flung herself.
"I believe you approved the speech!"
"I thought it well delivered," I said cautiously.
"It was--it was--"
"It was perfectly consistent with what Clanross said at that dinner in May. He does not believe martial law improves the people's temper. He said so then and he said so today. I fail to understand your surprise."
"I'm not surprised," Anne muttered. "I just kept hoping Robert would make Clanross see reason. No one opposes Coercion."
"You're wrong there. Many political writers disapprove the government of civil populations by military law in peacetime."
"That may be true for England but everyone knows Ireland is different."
"And will go on being different so long as she is treated as a stepchild," I snapped. "Precisely Clanross's point. Either the Union should be real and Irishmen should enjoy the protection of English law or we should let the Union go. There's no longer any danger of invasion."
Anne snorted, unconvinced.
I didn't entirely blame her. I thought Clanross's position logical but quixotic. Ireland could not be let go. Too many powerful men, including Clanross, derived too much income from Irish land.
Anne rose and began to pace restlessly. "I don't see that a fortnight in Meath makes Clanross an authority on Ireland."
"He was garrisoned in Cork and also spent some time in Dublin and Kildare."
"And you have to admit he knows what it is to submit to military rule."
Anne made a face. "You make it all sound sweetly reasonable."
"I think it is," I said mildly. "Probably too reasonable. People aren't, usually."
She stood still, digesting that.
"If you're troubled by how the Ton will react, I daresay the cause of Reform will grow more and more fashionable in the next few years. Open a Radical salon. Cultivate the poets. In ten years' time Featherstonehaugh will be a Treasury lord and you'll have the world at your feet. Seize the day, Nancy."
I could see that she liked the vision but she is too intelligent to be flummoxed by sugarplum promises. She gave me a wry look. "You're cutting a wheedle, Liz. I see right through you. Very well. Anything for peace, but I cannot like Clanross's conduct and so you may tell him."
"I ?"
"You. It's my opinion that you and his rambunctious lordship are thick as thieves."
I protested, but she gave me a straight look, tidied her hair, and marched down to dinner without further comment. I believed my words had hit the target, all the same. Probably my sister was already planning her debut as Muse of the Radicals. Grinning, I wished her luck and followed her downstairs.
* * * *
Clanross called next afternoon to take leave of us, for we were returning to Brecon at once. That spoke well of his courage, considering Anne's frame of mind. His manner was more constrained than the girls had grown to expect, and they in turn were rather shy of him. They were not used to thinking of him as a publick man. He had brought them a natural history of Lincolnshire, however, and Miss Bluestone's eager appreciation of the book's wildflower engravings soon put Jean and Maggie at ease.
I stayed in the background, watching. So did Anne. My sister sat overlooking the scene with Arctic civility--like a Spanish duenna receiving a known rake. Clanross would have had to be marvellously insensitive not to have felt the chill in the air. I was not surprised when he rose to go.
He stayed long enough to assure the twins that he continued to expect their letters, then made a polite exit. Honours to Anne. it was as if, in a single day, Clanross had retreated the entire distance he had come toward my family. I could not endure it.
I rose and went with him to the foyer.
"I hope you have a comfortable journey, Elizabeth." At least he did not say Lady Elizabeth.
"We shall. I have a bone to pick with you, Clanross."
He raised his brows, eyes dark and wary.
"I was disappointed in your speech."
His mouth set. "I'm sorry."
"I heard it distinctly," I murmured. "Had you forgot your promise to utter a few inaudible clichés and melt into the wainscoting? Really, Clanross."
His mouth relaxed. "How could I forget? Goodbye, Elizabeth."
I gave him my hand, smiling, and presently he smiled back.
All the same it was most unsatisfactory. All the way home to Brecon I wondered if there were not something I could do to cause a thaw. But it was not until, travel-stained and tired of jolting in the carriage, I reached the privacy of my own chamber, that I remembered I had not broached the matter of my little sisters in Scotland with Clanross. Very well, I would write him.
Without further ado, I dismissed Dobbins, strode to my escritoire, drew out a sheet of hot-pressed paper, mended my pen, and settled to the task.
"My dear Clanross," I wrote, bold as brass, "In the confusion of our London visit, I neglected to raise with you a topic which has been much on my mind." The letter
continued.
Some months ago you spoke to me of your concern that my three youngest sisters were growing up strangers to Jean and Margaret. I also sensed that you felt some reservations about the little girls' progress in my sister Kinnaird's household. I have given the matter considerable thought. Because she will be nearly concerned, I have discussed it with Miss Bluestone and have taken the liberty of writing Lady Kinnaird as well.
Kitty is amenable to my sisters' coming south at Christmastime if appropriate measures may be taken for their comfort and safety on the road. Kinnaird will be unable to escort them. I have, therefore, made tentative plans to fetch them myself the second week of December. With their nurse, Miss Mackey, and Miss Bluestone in attendance, I am sure they will flourish, nor do I anticipate any disruption of my own work.
That was untrue. All the same, I was determined. I took up the pen once more.
It is my wish to make this change, my lord, and not only for the sake of the three youngest girls. I have taken great pleasure in the company of Jean and Margaret--somewhat to my surprise--but I do see that their lives in my small household lack variety and interest. With your kind permission I shall introduce Jean and Maggie to an expanded and, I daresay, a livelier schoolroom. If you will direct a brief note of approval to my sister Kinnaird, I shall set everything here in train to receive the little girls.
I stopped and nibbled my pen. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought recklessly.
My lord, when we parted I alluded to your speech in a facetious vein. Indeed, I found it not only audible but well-reasoned and just. I am sorry to see that the Coercion Bill has since received the royal assent. I beg you will not allow its passage to depress your spirits unduly. Some things must be said, whether or not the world seems disposed to listen. For what it is worth, I listened.
Pray convey my best regards to Sims, and believe me, Clanross, your convinced kinswoman, Elizabeth Conway.
I signed my name with a flourish and reread my words. They seemed all wrong--an awkward mixture of bumptious familiarity and stuffy moralising. They would have to do. Jacta alea est.
Lady Elizabeth's Comet Page 23
