A Matter of Honor

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  The Earl smiled, a smile that would melt any woman’s heart, thought Aggie. “Of course, Mother. I should be glad to. Around seven?”

  Lady Denby nodded and with another smile his lordship left the room.

  “Oh, milady!” Cecilie clapped her hands with glee. “How wonderful. I have been wanting to go to Vauxhall Gardens.”

  “Perhaps,” said Lady Denby, “I should lie upon my bed for a while. I am not as young as I once was and I do not want to tire in the middle of our outing.”

  “Of course, milady. Of course.”

  “But first, just let me see Dillydums,” said the dowager. He jumped into her open arms quite cheerfully and peered up at her. “He reminds me of my own little Charleykins.” She spoke to the monkey for a moment and then handed him back to Cecilie. “I shall see you both later.”

  * * * *

  “Oh!” said Cecilie as she stepped down from the carriage into Vauxhall Gardens later that evening. “It’s just lovely.” The little monkey sitting on her shoulder gazed somberly around. Aggie had wondered at the wisdom of bringing along the monkey. Not that it was an unusual thing to do, only that Dillydums had been known to cause trouble. But the Earl had said it was fine.

  Aggie, descending in her turn, put thoughts of trouble from her mind and concentrated on the beauty around her. The multitude of colored lanterns, lining the walks and the pavilions, gave the whole an effect of fairyland grace. Well-dressed people, often in couples, sauntered up and down the numerous paths.

  “Oh! Do let us walk about,” said Cecilie eagerly.

  The Earl looked to his mother. “Of course, my dear,” she said to Cecilie. “We shall see all of the gardens. But before we explore the walks, I should like to hear the orchestra perform. I believe it is about that time.”

  “Yes, of course,” replied Cecilie.

  Aggie, glancing surreptitiously at the Earl, saw the look of satisfaction that he and his mother exchanged. This puzzled her somewhat, but then, remembering the Earl’s words about Lord Gale’s lightskirt, she thought perhaps they planned to point her out to Cecilie. If so, she doubted the wisdom of such a plan. Cecilie was not apt to take lightly being so shamed, as she would inevitably feel she had been.

  Then the Earl offered his arm to Cecilie and led them off toward the orchestra. Aggie and the Countess followed.

  The orchestra was housed in a shell-shaped pavilion. Glittering with colored lanterns, it stood out against the darkening sky. “Oh,” breathed Cecilie, “oh, just look.”

  “It’s quite as nice as I remembered it,” said Lady Denby complacently, and Aggie nodded in agreement. The strains of a beautiful ballad drifted out over the warm night air. Around the stand, entranced spectators stood in listening silence.

  Aggie suppressed a sigh. The numerous couples around her, the women looking up with smiles into the men’s faces, filled her with a terrible yearning. She wanted so badly to be on Denby’s arm, looking up at him with eyes full of adoration, but of course that was foolishness. Staring at his broad shoulders ahead of her, she blinked rapidly to keep back the sudden tears. She would have to stop thinking of Denby like this. She would just have to.

  By the time they had listened to several songs, Aggie had conquered her feelings enough to dismiss the tears. Then the Earl turned to his mother. Just as he did so a young man approached them. His hair was dark, his eyes, too; and he smiled at them all with cheerful friendliness. “Denby. Lady Denby. How good to see you.”

  The Earl looked him over silently. “Good evening, Heatherton.” His tone seemed excessively stiff to Aggie and she glanced at him swiftly. But no one else seemed to notice. The Earl performed the amenities, introducing first Cecilie, then Aggie. Heatherton spoke to each of them in the same cheerful tones; but as soon as he had done the civil thing, he turned again to Cecilie. “Perhaps you might like to take my arm,” he said. “Then the Earl may escort his mother.”

  “Of course,” replied Cecilie with alacrity. “How very thoughtful of you.”

  The Earl made a moue and looked at Cecilie sternly, but she ignored him and put her gloved hand on Heatherton’s extended arm.

  The Earl turned then to his mother and offered her his arm. “Not unless you give Aggie your other,” she said gently. “I cannot permit her to be left to walk alone.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” said the Earl, turning to her. Avoiding his eyes, Aggie took his arm. She did not see how she could avoid it without drawing too much awareness to herself. Lady Denby was far too astute not to deduce something from such a refusal.

  The small group moved on. Heatherton and Cecilie ahead, and Denby following with the other two women. The young people seemed to want to move ahead, perhaps to be alone; but Denby diligently kept them in sight. The monkey seemed to have taken to the Viscount Heatherton, for he perched cheerfully on his shoulder, one tiny paw braced on the rim of the young man’s curly-brimmed beaver.

  The Earl and his mother exchanged glances again and Aggie wondered if Cecilie was to be again denied a suitor. Though she had seen him only temporarily, Aggie thought the Viscount by far the nicest of all Cecilie’s suitors so far. His eyes had been clear and friendly, his clothes as neatly elegant as the Earl’s. There was something about him that inspired confidence in her. And yet the Earl had seemed disgruntled, barely civil to him. There was something here that Aggie did not understand, some undercurrent that was unclear to her. But perhaps it was only her own uneasy nerves that made things seem unusual, she thought.

  Being close to Denby made it difficult to think clearly. She was far too aware of his strong lean body so close to her own. Her arm, which he had tucked so casually through his, seemed to tingle with the heat of his side. Color came to her face as she realized that she was thinking of his kisses, the kisses that devastated her senses so. With a little sigh she reminded herself that it was useless to think such thoughts. She was a nameless, penniless governess-companion, not a young girl in her first London season. And the only kind of offer that the Earl was likely to make for her was illegitimate. And he would scarcely even do that now, not with his lady mother in the house.

  She cast a glance up at him from under lowered lashes. He was gazing ahead at Cecilie and Lord Heatherton and his face held a most curious look... If she hadn’t seen the almost rude way he had treated the Viscount, she might even have said that the look was one of satisfaction, but that was patently impossible. He had made his dislike of the young man rather clear.

  They strolled for some moments in silence, and then Aggie finally asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. “Is there something wrong with Lord Heatherton?” She was sorry as soon as the words left her mouth, but it was too late to recall them.

  Denby turned to look at her and she was thankful that in the fitful illumination of the lanterns he could not see her face clearly. “Why do you ask?”

  “You - you seemed a trifle -” She hesitated, afraid to irritate him.

  “Rude?” offered Lady Denby.

  Aggie was covered with confusion. “Oh no! Just a little formal.” She felt the word was inadequate, but she could think of no other at the moment.

  He smiled at her sardonically. “You need not be so sparing of my feelings. My mother was right. I was rude to him.”

  Under the scrutiny of those smoky eyes Aggie had to say something. “But why? Has he done something? That is,” she floundered on, feeling more and more foolish, “is he unsuitable for Cecilie?”

  The Earl frowned, his dark brows meeting in the inevitable line that indicated his displeasure. “I do not care to discuss the matter,” he said harshly, and Aggie dared not mention the subject again.

  After some more time spent in silent strolling, Aggie noticed they were approaching the Dark Walks, the proverbial place for young lovers, especially un-chaperoned ones, to walk. She felt herself growing anxious. Surely Cecilie would not go into the Dark Walks with a man newly met. But Cecilie, as her companion well knew, might do anything. So Aggie watched in ago
nized suspense. Then, just as the young couple came parallel to the Walks the monkey leaped suddenly from his perch on Heatherton’s shoulder and darted off into the darkness.

  “Dillydums! Come back!” called a distraught Cecilie. “Oh, he will be lost forever!”

  Aggie, casting a hurried look at his lordship, was surprised to find him again exchanging that curious glance with his mother. But by then they had reached Cecilie and she had little time to think about anything else as she bent all her efforts to allaying Cecilie’s fears.

  “Don’t despair. Miss Winthrop,” said Heatherton. “I’ll get the little fellow back. Truly I will.”

  The Viscount’s features were drawn into an expression of deep concern and as soon as he saw Cecilie safely into Aggie’s hands he sped off into the darkness, whistling softly for the monkey. Denby began to follow him. Then, obviously remembering that the monkey did not regard him in a particularly favorable light, he stopped and waited, almost as though he wished not to be seen with the women and yet feeling it his duty to protect them.

  Cecilie burst into great sobs and Aggie put an arm around her heaving shoulders. “Now, now, Cecilie. You must not take on so. I’m sure Lord Heatherton will find Dillydums.”

  “But it’s so dreadfully dark in there,” wailed Cecilie. “And you know how Dillydums hates the dark. It terrifies him.”

  “I know, my dear,” replied Aggie in soothing tones. “But just consider this. Since Dillydums dislikes the dark he will come all the quicker when he sees his friend Lord Heatherton has come after him.”

  Cecilie’s sobs lessened momentarily and Lady Denby took that moment to say softly, “Come, Cecilie. Tears only redden a woman’s nose, you know. And there’s no call for that. The Viscount will find that rascally monkey. Such a nice young man he is.” Her eyes sought Aggie’s for the merest fraction of a second before she continued in a lower tone, “A very nice dark young man.”

  Cecilie’s sobs stopped almost immediately and she raised her head from her handkerchief to ask, “Is my nose red already?”

  Lady Denby surveyed it seriously before she replied. “No, it still looks fine.”

  “Good,” said Cecilie. “I shall not cry anymore. Surely Lord Heatherton will find Dillydums.”

  ‘Of course he will,” said Lady Denby with a strange smile. “And then you may thank him very sweetly.”

  “Oh, I shall. I really shall.” Cecilie looked suddenly at her new friend. “You know Lord Heatherton well.”

  Lady Denby nodded. “His mother is a friend of mine.”

  “Does he dance well?” asked Cecilie. “And how does he ride?”

  “He dances with the grace of the best dancing master and I have never seen a better man on horseback with the exception of Denby and his father,” replied the Countess soberly.

  “He loves animals,” Cecilie said, almost to herself. “And children. He was telling me about the antics of his little brothers.” She turned wide eyes on Lady Denby. “Do you suppose...”

  Aggie suppressed an urge to stop her. Let Lady Denby handle this.

  The Countess nodded and the light of mischief danced in the gray eyes so like her son’s. “I think it very likely, my dear.” She looked around her with the suspicious gaze of a conspirator and her voice dropped still a tone lower even though Denby was much too far away to hear. “You see, Heatherton’s mama and I were bosom-bows at school and we married much around the same time.” A little sigh escaped her. “Dear Fannie always did love the babies. The two oldest are girls, then Heatherton. There must be six or seven altogether.” She shook her head as though dismissing some unsettling thought. “Anyway, Fannie and I were bosom-bows and we used to live close when we were young brides. And one day, quite by chance, mind you, we happened to be discussing - hair. And she told me that Heatherton’s father was also very...” She raised her brows eloquently. “So one might well suppose that his son -”

  Cecilie clapped her hands in glee. “Dear Countess. What a wonderful, wonderful friend you are. He is perfect, absolutely perfect.”

  Aggie, who had been watching and listening in utter astonishment, found herself completely at a loss. She could hardly reprimand Cecilie for discussing such things when the Countess was so obviously encouraging her. But she felt the whole proceeding was highly irregular.

  And then Cecilie spied Heatherton just as he emerged from the darkness with Dillydums again riding on his shoulder. She squealed with happiness and could barely be restrained from running to his side.

  As Heatherton passed his lordship, the Earl fell in step behind him, but there was a certain stiffness in his carriage that made Aggie uncomfortable. Surely now that Cecilie had found someone suitable to care about he would be pleased. But that did not seem to be the case.

  Cecilie’s effusiveness, however, made up for any cordiality lacking in the Earl. “Oh, what a wonderful man you are,” she breathed. “It’s just marvelous the way you found him.”

  “It seems rather marvelous to me how he got away in the first place,” commented Denby in rather acid tones.

  Aggie was shocked that he should behave so rudely. And so stupidly, she told herself. Any fool could see that Cecilie was taken with this man. Now why must his lordship complicate matters by disapproving of him? And apparently without sound reason.

  Fortunately, Heatherton ignored the remark and so did everyone else. The rest of the evening passed in a very curious fashion. Cecilie and the Viscount ambled on, laughing and chatting, while behind them came a silent Denby, his mother on one arm and Aggie on the other, his face set in an expression of grim displeasure. Because of having his lordship between them, Aggie could not ask Lady Denby any questions and she found this excessively galling.

  All in all, it was quite an odd outing, thought Aggie, as she stood beside the others at the close of their stroll, watching the skyrockets explode in the summer heavens. She could not get over the feeling that there was something very peculiar about his lordship’s behavior, but exactly what it was, she could not say.

  The fireworks over, they returned to the entrance and sought out their carriage. As Heatherton handed Cecilie up, he spoke softly, “I shall call upon you tomorrow.”

  Aggie waited, holding her breath, for the Earl to deny him that privilege, but at this moment his lordship was deep in conversation with his mother and the Viscount’s words went unheeded.

  The ride home was uneventful. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, Cecilie smiling in silent happiness. And then, just as they reached the great stairs, the Earl spoke, “I cannot very well forbid Heatherton the house because of my mother’s affection for his mother,” he said harshly to Cecilie. “But do not allow yourself to form a partiality for him. I cannot abide the man.”

  He wheeled on his heel and was gone before Cecilie could answer and, as she opened her mouth to call after him, Aggie shook her head in warning. A hard look of determination settled on Cecilie’s delicate features and then, without a word to Aggie or Lady Denby, she swept on up to her rooms.

  Aggie looked at the Countess. There was something very odd about this whole business; but when she opened her mouth to ask about it, Lady Denby forestalled her. “I must speak to my son,” she said. “Good night, Aggie.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next several days were odd ones for Aggie. Lord Heatherton called daily and was met with joy by a radiant Cecilie. Bates ushered him in and out with quiet dignity and Aggie saw that her charge was properly chaperoned, but no one mentioned any of this. Lady Denby avoided all Aggie’s attempts to discuss the matter with her and Denby absented himself so completely from the house that Aggie did not once see him.

  Cecilie could do nothing but sing young Heatherton’s praises. Aggie, torn between sympathy for the young woman in love and her awareness that Denby could never be expected to approve the match, hardly knew what to say. She was especially provoked by the fact that the more she saw of Heatherton the more she liked the man. His feeling for animals and youngster
s was quite genuine, she felt sure, one only had to see him play with Dillydums to know that. And his affections for Cecilie seemed sincere and strong. Denby was being very unfair, Aggie thought angrily, unfair and stupid. For it was quite clear to her that Cecilie would make Lord Heatherton an affable and loving wife and his children a good mother. But some little thing, some stupid little thing, had made Denby dislike him.

  One day about a week after their trip to Vauxhall, Aggie and Cecilie were sitting in the drawing room. Cecilie, with much enthusiasm, but not a great deal of success, was working on a fire screen. Aggie had long ago given up attempting to teach her the fine points of needlepointing, indeed, Cecilie had had so much difficulty in that area that Aggie had despaired of ever teaching her anything of the art. But on his last visit the Viscount had remarked on the design that Aggie was engaged on and Cecilie had hardly seen him out before she insisted on having some needlework of her own. Aggie had been glad to oblige and Cecilie now sat, happily stabbing the needle in and out, secure in the knowledge that whatever she did would be much admired by her suitor.

  Aggie continued her own work, the top for a footstool, only giving Cecilie assistance from time to time as she tangled her wool or otherwise erred. “You know, Aggie,” said Cecilie, her eyes still intent on her work, but her mouth curving in a little grin, “I still think I had a good idea about that marriage marketplace.”

  Aggie smiled. “Perhaps, dear. But consider. There are many things you know about the Viscount that you could not have learned in such a place.”

  Looking up, Cecilie stabbed her finger, but she ignored it to ask, “Like what, Aggie? I know that you know a great deal about love and I respect your judgment.”

  For some reason Aggie found a lump in her throat. She spoke over it. “Well, Cecilie, I suppose I know no more than most women. But I have experienced love.”

  Cecilie nodded. “Yes. That’s what I mean.” She sighed dreamily. “How pleasant it would be if we could both have the men we love.”