Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow

by Catherine Bowness

  “Generally, we are driven on because there was a scandal in our past which, when it catches up with us – or looks likely to – sends us packing. I can see you thinking that an absurd way to live one’s life – and you would be right – we should stand still and face it. But, in truth, we have another reason now in that my little sister has reached an age where she has begun to attract men like wasps, so we are often running from them too.”

  “But would it not be a good thing for her to find a husband? Could not the wasps be filtered in some way so as to discard the horrid, stingy ones and preserve the more useful? I’m persuaded wasps can be useful.”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling at her embroidery of his analogy. “But, unfortunately, girls like Phyllis don’t attract potential husbands.”

  “Why not? Because she is poor?”

  “Partly, but she is not quite what you might call reliably furnished in the upper storey, so to speak. She was, once, but many years ago she was kicked by a horse and spent several months insensible. She was seven when it happened, and she lay there like Sleeping Beauty for some time. Unfortunately, when she eventually awoke, she was as she is now.”

  “Oh! I did not realise that. She is so very beautiful.”

  “Yes, thank you. I suppose there are many people who are not clever, but Phyllis is more than usually childish, I think. It is as though, although she is awake in a sense, her mind has not fully woken. If we had more money and could settle somewhere, I think she would have a better chance of finding a husband, but he would need to be a gentle person who would not object to his wife’s inability to discuss anything in depth.”

  “Do husbands want to discuss things in depth with their wives?” Helen asked with a sad little pout.

  Endymion grinned. “I don’t know; I am not married, but I like to think I would.”

  Chapter 27

  “Would you? But you must marry an heiress, must you not? If both you and your elder sister could marry money, all your problems would be at an end, would they not?”

  He laughed bitterly. “Is that your situation too, Miss Lenham, that you have so little shame in mentioning something which most people do their utmost to conceal?”

  She nodded. “I am not in nearly such a poor position as you for I will have a small portion and am not about to starve. On the other hand, I do not have quite the same degree of – I am not pretty,” she finished.

  “Not pretty, no,” he acknowledged, fixing his brilliant gaze upon her. “But, in a good light, you are not far off beautiful.”

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked, firing up immediately.

  “You are not one of those little doll-like creatures who are generally considered pretty,” he explained, unabashed, “but you are not at all in the common way, you know.”

  “I am little though, am I not, and insignificant?” She was remembering the Marchese who preferred children.

  “Little, yes, but by no means insignificant. Stand up straight and flash your eyes in that fiery way and you put me in mind of a star visiting Earth. I tell you where your fault lies,” he went on, “you compare yourself unfavourably to every other woman and fail to realise that not every woman will appeal to every man. There will be some who will find you so dazzling they will have to turn away for fear of hurting their eyes.”

  “That is of enormous comfort,” she snapped. “So any man who does admire me – briefly – will be unable to look at me for long? I cannot see how that will advance my cause.”

  He laughed. “You are like an uncut diamond; a little town polish, a lot of confidence and you will find men won’t be able to leave you alone. I’m glad I met you first, before you become an imperious beauty. Will you dance with me if we should ever be so fortunate as to meet in a dance hall?”

  “I am no good at dancing; I have only been to the assembly rooms once.”

  “Dancing does not have to be in an assembly room; lots of private parties expect people to stand up after dinner. Will you turn me down because you don’t think you’re good enough?”

  “I don’t know; perhaps.”

  “If I stand up with you,” he said slyly, “everyone will think you must be an heiress.”

  “I would not like to deceive them because they would soon realise the truth and be disappointed – and I am by no means certain I would be able to bear that.”

  He smiled. “I was disappointed at first but now – well, I suppose it is no use my wanting to marry you, but I own I like talking to you – and looking at you and trying to provoke that flash that turns you into a brilliant.”

  “I suppose,” she said, frowning, “that, without the flash as you call it, I am nothing but a lump of rock.”

  “Indeed – but, you see, I’ve seen the flash – several times now - so I know it is there.”

  “Do you say this sort of thing to every woman, even the heiresses?”

  “No; and it’s difficult with the heiresses because they often are just lumps of rock and I can’t find any flash but, if I am to make any headway with them, I need to find it. You see, I can’t, even though I know I must marry money, flatter anyone without feeling even a soupçon of attraction.”

  “I should not suppose that you need to, Mr Moss. I like talking to you, but I don’t think it’s necessary for you to say a word to have females swooning at your feet.”

  “It’s my turn to thank you,” he said quietly, bowing.

  She smiled and said, “But I imagine your difficulties will commence when you seek an audience with a father for he will not be subject to the same tendency to swoon at your feet.”

  “No, indeed, and it is then that the scandal will intervene and send all my careful preparation crashing to the ground.”

  “Oh yes, I had forgot that,” she admitted. “It cannot have been that bad! In any event, a person who has fallen in love with you will surely be prepared to accept that it is in the past.”

  “Hmn; she might, but I am afraid her papa would not be so ready to forgive. You are being naïve, Miss Lenham. We, my sister and I, have so much against us that any one of our flaws is enough to dash the cup from our lips at the last moment. My sister has had more suitors than you can imagine but only one or two have come up to scratch.”

  “And you?”

  “I? I fear I am beginning to think our resemblance goes deeper than our features. I find myself absurdly reluctant to go ahead even when the prospects seem favourable. It always looks like a trap.”

  “Lud!” she exclaimed. “I suppose the truth is that you are still too young to marry but feel a sense of urgency on account of your situation. I must warn you that I think you do my sex a disservice by pretending to like us when in fact you fear us. You bound up like an eager dog, flatter us and then retreat, leaving us bruised.”

  “I am sorry,” he said with such a genuine air of contrition that her heart fluttered. She was coming, slowly and by painful degrees, to accept that Mr Moss was not for her, but it was not unlike seeing a dish of the most delicious sweetmeats being borne into the room but having the servant walk straight past and offer it to someone else.

  “My chaperone, Miss Godmanton – I think you wounded her. You paid her so much attention and appeared so taken with her conversation that I believe she almost forgot the disparity in your ages.”

  “Good God! I own I never considered that, which was remiss of me. I believed her far too old to think of me in that way. I was simply talking to her.”

  “I daresay you did not give the matter a great deal of thought,” Helen said severely, “not only because of her age but also on account of her position – you would, after all, have to be addle-pated to believe it worth looking for a fortune in that direction. But it was cruel and, after the initial excitement, a terrible disappointment for her. I don’t believe anyone has ever flirted with her before in her whole life!”

  “I was not flirting with her!” he exclaimed, horrified. “I thought that, if I managed to get her on my side, it would help me in my a
pproach to you.”

  “Was that when you still thought I might have a fortune?”

  “Yes.”

  They stared at each other, equally shocked, for they had arrived at a point of unconscionable frankness where their hearts were so open to each other that neither could see a way to retreat.

  “It was a waste of time and hurt her feelings,” Helen said stonily.

  “Yes.”

  “It hurt mine too,” she said, “because I thought you liked her better than me. And now you have hurt them again because you have admitted you did not in point of fact like either of us.”

  “I like you now,” he said, adding beneath his breath, “too damned much for my peace of mind.”

  In the event it was Cecilia who noticed that something was gravely amiss with Miss Godmanton.

  While Helen and Endymion were exchanging frank and – in the circumstances – inappropriate opinions on the nature of relations between their respective sexes, Cecilia, who had tactfully left Helen to confide in her cousin and was unaware that he too had left the room, steered her mother and sister up the stairs and into their chambers.

  It was after she had delivered her mother and was shepherding Phyllis to hers, that she heard a door closing a little further down the corridor and a moment later saw the English maid, Hannah, coming towards her with a pale and anxious face.

  Cecilia had seen enough faces bearing similar hallmarks of shock and uncertainty to recognise that something untoward must have occurred.

  “Hannah, isn’t it?” she asked, pushing Phyllis into their room and promising to return in a moment. “Has something occurred to worry you?”

  “Oh, Miss,” Hannah exclaimed, so put out that she did not hesitate to open her budget to a woman who had only recently become a member of her party and who was not, she realised when she thought about it afterwards more soberly, an appropriate person in whom to confide.

  “Has someone been taken ill?” Cecilia asked.

  “It’s Miss Godmanton,” Hannah went on. “She – she is quite beside herself, Miss.”

  “An attack of the vapours?”

  “No, no, I think it is worse than that.”

  “A spasm?”

  “No, I don’t think it is that either; Lady Charles, my employer in England, she has spasms and this – this is not like that. She – she is almost hysterical, Miss, and vows she will never be able to set eyes on Miss Lenham again. She says she has been insulted beyond anything she can endure and insists that she must return to England at once if she is not to – to fall into madness. I don’t believe she has slept a wink; in fact, I suspect she has been weeping and wailing all night for her face is swollen and her voice hoarse. What shall I do, Miss?”

  “I think you had better report the matter to your employer, Hannah. I would offer to attend the poor lady if I did not think that she feels a degree of antipathy towards me and my family which would make my appearance at her bedside positively incendiary. I don’t know if the doctor has left yet but perhaps his opinion should be sought. If you think it would help, I will run downstairs and see if I can detain him before he leaves, while you report what you have seen to Miss Lenham – and perhaps his lordship. I am sure he will know what to do,” she added weakly, rather annoyed with herself that she was prepared to hand something clearly requiring an enormous amount of diplomacy, if not medical knowledge, to a man whose kindness had already prompted him to assist her and whose further intervention she wished to manage without. On the other hand, Miss Godmanton and her disintegration were clearly more his responsibility than hers.

  “Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss.”

  The two women went downstairs together and found Endymion still talking to Helen. There was no sign of the Earl.

  Hannah looked nervously at Cecilia, who said, “Do you know, Dym, if the doctor has left?”

  “Waldron went to speak to him. Is something amiss – you look distraught.”

  “Do I? It must be contagious. Come with me.” She gave him a meaning look to which he responded immediately, bowing to Helen and murmuring something about having to attend to something concerning his family.

  Cecilia led him out of the room, waiting until the door was closed before explaining the reason for her distracted appearance and begging him to conduct her immediately to the doctor.

  “Have you seen the woman? Spoken to her?” he asked.

  “No; I did not think she would welcome a visit from me; she clearly regards us as the most dreadfully vulgar people – indeed I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that it was sitting down to dinner with us which caused her collapse.”

  “Possibly, but I daresay it’s all a hum – at least, I should think she’s exaggerating whatever is the matter with her in a bid for sympathy. And, by the way, I don’t take kindly to your laying the blame for her distress on the entire Moss family because I rather think she was quite taken with me.”

  “Oh, lord, yes, she was! I had forgotten that you made a wholly ridiculous play for her the first night only to abandon her in favour of Miss Lenham last night. If it turns out you’re responsible for this new embarrassment I shall …” She stopped, wondering with what she could threaten him.

  “I thought it might prompt her to plead my cause if she found me congenial – no one else will.”

  “Oh, Dym, for Heaven’s sake! She thought you liked her – for herself!”

  “How in the world could she have done so? I promise I didn’t flatter her, didn’t say a word about her wonderful eyes or anything of that nature.”

  “I should hope not for it would have been a perfectly outrageous lie. But I rather think you hung on her every word, laughed at her jokes and implied that you found her interesting. Did you?”

  “Not really, although she is more interesting than you might imagine.”

  “She could hardly be less,” Cecilia snapped. “Take me to the doctor at once – I hope he hasn’t left.”

  “Does she really need a doctor? What is the matter with her?”

  “Hysterical – sobbing and crying and pronouncing herself unable to set eyes on Miss Lenham ever again. If we were in a town I daresay she would order a carriage at once and ask to be driven home to England.”

  “If we were in a town she would not be so foolish for we might take her at her word and despatch her within the hour. She merely wants attention. Do you think I should apply the balm of my charm?”

  “No, you cannot go to her chamber, particularly when I understand she has been weeping all night. But, once Miss Lenham or Waldron has calmed her down, it will be you who must deal with her during the rest of the journey for you will be sharing a carriage with her – and I’m sure I think you deserve it!” she added, infuriated.

  “Probably do,” he admitted, grinning. He was leading her towards the kitchens as he spoke and up the servants’ stairs.

  They found the Earl still speaking to the doctor on the landing.

  The physician, assuming the Mosses had come to enquire after their coachman, launched into a careful explanation of the man’s present symptoms and the likelihood that he would – eventually – make a full recovery. However, he rather thought a prolonged period of convalescence might be necessary.

  “I have settled everything,” the Earl told them, “so there is no need to worry further about the financial side of the matter. You and I can settle up later, Moss.”

  While Endymion was engaged in thanking his lordship for his kindness and promising to repay whatever he owed in the twinkling of an eye – a vow which neither Waldron nor Cecilia thought likely to be fulfilled – Cecilia laid hold of the doctor and confided what she knew of the most recent patient’s malady.

  “Sounds like the sort of upset that will readily answer to a dose of sal volatile,” the medical man concluded phlegmatically, “but, since I am here, I will take a look at her.”

  “Good. Thank you. It is Miss Godmanton,” she added to his lordship as she led the doctor down the stairs again.

>   “What ails her?” Waldron asked, left to follow with Endymion.

  “I understand she had some kind of a disagreement with Miss Lenham last night,” Endymion explained, “and is refusing to leave her chamber for fear of meeting her again.”

  “Oh dear,” Waldron said with barely suppressed irritation. “Helen did mention the matter earlier.”

  “I think it may be my fault,” Endymion went on apologetically as they descended the stairs.

  “Yours? Why? What in the world did you do?”

  “I was apparently over-warm towards her the night before last and then too cold last night, according to my sister.”

  “I see. And for that reason, she has decided to cut Miss Lenham? No, no, you need say nothing further. Helen told me what took place and to my mind it is Miss Godmanton who is more at fault. It is often unwise for men to try to understand the intricacies and faults that have led to a cooling of relations between females, but I really do not think you should blame yourself. I shall, however, hold you responsible if you play fast and loose with my cousin, who is a young woman sorely lacking in town bronze. I will not permit you to trifle with her, Mr Moss.”

  This last was uttered in a severe tone which caused Endymion considerable embarrassment for he was well aware that Miss Lenham was taken with him, although he would have denied hotly that he was trifling with her. The trouble was that they had been thrown together; she was the only young woman in the party to whom he was not related, and he had spent a good part of the previous evening in conversation with her. They had, just now in the breakfast parlour, discussed their respective situations with extraordinary frankness. He supposed he should be grateful to his sister for coming back into the room at a moment when he had been about to admit to far stronger feelings than were appropriate for a young woman whose rank made her as unsuitable as her lack of a fortune.

  He and the Earl reached the bottom of the stairs where his lordship paused, clearly waiting for the assurance he sought.