Rissa started to turn red. “Because … because…” she stopped and bit her lip. Mama quickly interrupted.
“The girl was in a state of shock, m’lord. She was not thinking clearly.”
“Odd,” remarked Papa, “she was thinking clearly enough to write this translation.” He held Rissa’s splotched pages up distastefully. “Messy though it may be.”
Mama opened her mouth, no doubt to continue her defense of Rissa, but at that moment, Manning, the butler, entered and addressed her.
“Lord Stormont to see you, m’lady.”
All else forgotten, Lady Capelle beamed and threw Rissa a quick smile. “There, what did I tell you? Have him come in, Manning.”
Clarinda stood hastily. “Have him wait a moment, Manning. Mama, I have just developed a headache. I shall retire to my room.”
“Nonsense,” said Papa. “Lord Stormont’s a fine fellow. No need to be rude. You stay put, young lady.”
“Yes, Papa.” Clarinda sank back on the settee in such an inner torment she wasn’t sure she could endure seeing Stormont again, knowing he could not be hers.
*
Robert had awakened in a marvelous mood. Clarinda shall be mine, he kept thinking over and over again. He could not get over his marvelous luck in finding a woman who could ride a horse as well as he and was not only bright and beautiful, but a woman who disdained society’s follies and foibles, as did he, and, unlike most of the young chits he knew, had no affectations.
This afternoon, when he visited Graystone Hall, he would somehow get her alone, and she would accept his proposal. They would be married as soon as possible. Soon she would be lying in his bed, in his arms, and he, so tormented by his thoughts of her these past few weeks that he could hardly think straight, would at last make her truly his.
Stop acting like a green school boy, he chastised himself, but no use. For the sake of the servants, and Lucius, who was visiting, he carefully maintained his cool facade. But inside, thoughts of Clarinda were so dizzying he was not at all sure he could last to the hour when good manners decreed he could pay his visit to Graystone Hall to ask for her hand.
When they were married, what long, lingering, trailing kisses he would give her! Starting with her smooth, white forehead — sliding slowly to her soft mouth, where he would linger, caressing her lips again and again, until her arms would creep around his neck and he heard the beginnings of passion in her sigh. Then he would slide his lips to the inviting hollow of her neck. And then…
Damn society’s rules!
Why could he not go visiting when he wanted to, which would be the crack of dawn, the way he was feeling. But he had controlled himself, quelling the maddening pulsing of desire that spiraled deep within him every time he thought of her. Now, dressed to the nines, feeling confident as a falcon in flight, he strode into the Capelles’ drawing room.
“Ah, Capelle, back from London I see,” he smoothly remarked to the older man who had stood to greet him. “Lady Capelle,” he acknowledged with a bow, noting the woman was smiling for a change. “Rissa, how lovely you look.” He bowed again, wondering if the girl would ever stop that silly simpering. “And Clarinda.” My God, what is wrong? he thought as he looked into his beloved’s pale, unsmiling face.
“How delightful to see you, Lord Stormont,” she said, in a voice both unnatural and strained.
He would have asked her what was wrong, but Lady Capelle spoke up. “Dear Lord Stormont, do sit down and have some tea. We have the most remarkable news to tell you concerning Sara Sophia.”
For the next few minutes, Robert, teacup in hand, listened to the astounding tale, told, for the most part, by Lady Capelle, embellished here and there by Rissa. But not a word from Clarinda, who sat, still as a stone statue, on the settee.
“What a remarkable story,” he said when they had finished.
“Indeed,” said Lord Capelle. He nodded toward the keys, now held by Lady Capelle. “I trust you don’t mind a bit more trespassing, but I s’pose our next step would be to see if those paintings are still there, and if their value is as high as this Louise Marie de Clarmonte seemed to think.”
“But of course,” Robert answered amiably. Rissa had indeed trespassed, but he would ignore that. “We can go to the gatehouse now, if you like.” He had been only half listening. Surely the revelation about Sara Sophia was wonderful. She was a gentle, bright young woman whom he liked very much. At some other time he would have been delighted at her good fortune. But not now. All he could think of was, what had happened to Clarinda? He must get her alone.
“Lord Stormont…?”
Lady Capelle was talking to him, but he hadn’t heard. Really, he must get his wits together. “Umm, yes m’lady, why don’t you and your daughters come to the gatehouse by carriage? As you know, the tower is in a remote corner of the estate, in an area still unkempt, but I do believe we can get within walking distance. Lord Capelle, why not saddle Jupiter and ride back with me?”
“Splendid idea.” Papa stood, eager as he always was when anticipating a ride on his beloved stallion. “Come Edwina, girls, we shall see you at the gatehouse.”
*
The paintings were there, still safe in the musty tower room of the gatehouse, and so magnificent Robert forgot for a moment his concern over Clarinda, so awed was he by the smuggled treasures that lay unrolled before him. “A Reuben,” he exclaimed, “and look here, m’lord, engravings by William Hogarth.”
“All absolutely splendid,” proclaimed Lord Capelle, as awed as he. “And worth a fortune, just as the Countess said. Without doubt, Sara Sophia will live in luxury the rest of her life.”
“I would never have guessed they were worth so much,” said Rissa. “Even that fat, naked lady,” she said with a giggle, pointing at the Reuben.
Lord save us from bird-brained women, Robert thought, pitying the poor man who would end up marrying the silly chit. As for Clarinda…
What was wrong with her? She had stood quietly, obviously pleased and excited when some of the canvases had been unrolled, and yet, hardly saying a word.
I must get her alone, Robert thought, if only for a minute.
His chance came when they all left the tower room and had to tread down the narrow, stone steps one by one. Except for himself, Clarinda was the last to go down. She was about to set her foot on the top step when he touched her shoulder.
“What is wrong?” he whispered. He hated this sort of subterfuge, but he was desperate to know.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
“Just like a woman!” he fiercely whispered back. He gripped her arm. “Now tell me!”
She made to continue on, then thought a moment, seeming to realize he deserved an answer.
“I cannot marry you,” she said with averted eyes.
He was thunderstruck. For a moment he could not speak. Finally he managed, “But yesterday I thought — “
“No!” She looked directly at him, her blue eyes full of remoteness. Holding her head proudly she replied straight-out, “You thought wrong, sir. Now I really must go.”
Clarinda pulled her arm from his grasp and without another word, hurried down the flight of stone steps to join her family. He stood watching, his innards shocked. He was too appalled to say another word.
*
“Light more candles, Jennings,” Robert crossly demanded that night at dinner. “This room is dark as a dungeon,” he muttered, glancing around at the shadowed mahogany paneled walls of the dining room. “I have half a notion to move back to Oakley House.”
From Robert’s right at the dinner table, a puzzled Lucius regarded him. “You are out of sorts tonight, old fellow. Whatever is the matter with you?”
Out of sorts? Robert thought ironically. Such a description could hardly begin to describe the bleak hopelessness of the mood that enveloped him. For one thing, he had been obliged to decide whether or not to tell Lucius the stupendous news regarding Sara Sophia. He yearned to tell his friend, yet was cauti
ous enough to realize much could still go wrong. Surreptitiously, he regarded his dinner companion. Lucius was thinner — dark circles under his eyes. Worse, his enthusiasm for life, acerbic though it had been, had fled. In his grief for Sara Sophia, Lucius had become a dull, drab shadow of his former self. Now, after the heartache he had suffered, it would be cruel to raise his hopes, only to have them dashed again. More prudent to wait, Robert decided. He would break the news to Lucius when Sara Sophia arrived safely home.
That decided, Robert thoughts now dwelled continually, without respite, on the undeniable and dreadful fact that Clarinda had rejected him. He had been stunned by her words, partly because, he had to admit, he had never before been rejected by a woman. Never!
“Robert? Are you listening? You seem a million miles away.”
“Er, sorry, Lucius. My mind was elsewhere.” Robert debated whether or not to say more, but decided he would not. In fact, he vowed, he would not think of her, he would not talk of her. But then, almost as if they had a mind of his own, the words popped out. “It’s Clarinda. I proposed and she rejected me.”
Lucius’s eyes went wide. He nearly dropped his fork. “You? Proposed to a woman?”
“To what else would I propose, a stump?” Robert snapped.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean — “
“Of course not,” Robert interrupted, instantly remorseful. “No need for me to bite your head off. It’s just … I love her, Lucius. I thought she loved me. I was confident when I proposed she’d fall into my arms crying, yes, she’d marry me. But no! She rejected me, Lucius. I, who have never been rejected by a woman before, have been most definitely put in my place.” Robert’s lips twisted into a cynical smile. “A lesson in humility. Much needed, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps,” replied Lucius, who had listened carefully. “‘Pride goeth before a fall’, they say. That is certainly true in my case. I was a user of women, plying them with gifts and attention, then casting them aside when they no longer suited me.” Lucius shook his head regretfully. “With never a thought to their feelings. Now I’ve learned…” His voice broke. He took a hasty of sip of water. “I’ve learned the meaning of the word hurt, Robert. Never shall I hurt a woman again.”
“I’m as guilty as you,” Robert admitted. “I never loved any woman until Clarinda.”
“But surely you would not have proposed had you not been sure she would accept.”
Robert blurted, “That’s what I thought, but then there was all the excitement over Sara Sophia — “
Damme! Robert clamped his mouth shut but not soon enough.
Lucius, still holding his crystal water glass, set it slowly back on the table, then gazed at Robert with sharp, assessing eyes. “Tell me, Robert,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Don’t hold back or I shall, at the very least, use my bare hands to throttle you.”
Robert had no choice. He told Lucius all of it. The rusty keys to the old gatehouse — the paintings — the astounding letter from Louise Marie de Clarmonte which clearly established the fact that Sara Sophia, heretofore impoverished orphan, was in reality Countess Sara Sophia Alexandrine de Clarmonte.
At the end, Robert apologized. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, old man. I, myself, only found out this afternoon. I was going to tell you, but first — “
“No, no, it’s all right,” said Lucius waving his hand to stop any further apologies. He had listened, almost without expression, to Robert’s revelations. Now he shut his eyes, as if attempting to absorb the news with all his attention. A tear trickled down his cheek. “Oh, God,” he finally murmured, “how could I have been so lucky? I’ve been given a second chance.” Trembling with emotion, he put his head in hands, and Robert, touched and nearly overcome himself at the overwhelming emotion of his friend, spent the next minutes comforting him.
Lucius finally sat straight again and pulled himself together. “If you tell anyone in London…” he said with a warning glance.
“That Lord Wentridge, that heartless rake, actually shed a tear?” Robert asked, mockingly aghast. “Never!” He smiled at his friend. “She should be home in a day or two. Meanwhile…” His spirits dipped again, even farther than before because his friend’s happy tidings reminded him of his own loss. “Ah, well, at least one of us reason to celebrate tonight.”
His old self again, Lucius remarked, “Knowing you, you would never have proposed, lest you were sure the chit had some affection for you.”
“She did,” Robert replied, “or so I thought. Only yesterday, I kissed her and she kissed me back with such warmth I was sure she cared for me.” Robert brought his fist down so hard on the table Lucius jumped. “Dammit, she did care. But then, today, she treated me like some cur she’d like to kick aside.”
“Well, then,” Lucius said in his most logical voice, “did it ever occur to you that something must have happened between yesterday and today to make her change her mind?”
“I hadn’t thought,” Robert began, then fell into silence. “The only thing that happened was the discovery about Sara Sophia.”
“So?” Lucius gazed at him significantly.
“I shall think about it,” Robert said. Back in a dim corner of his brain, certain facts were beginning to fall into place.
Chapter 15
Clarinda awoke the next morning with a headache, a real one this time. As she came fully awake, the events of yesterday came crashing back, both the good and the bad. She groaned, thinking of Robert and how she had lost him. But today, she firmly told herself, she would try to concentrate on Sara Sophia’s good fortune. Already a footman had been dispatched in one of the smaller coaches, carrying her letter. By tomorrow he should reach Rondale Hall. She pictured her dear friend’s face when she read,
Dearest Sara Sophia,
Something wonderful has happened. It is a matter of the greatest urgency that you return home immediately. Bring all your possessions, for it is highly unlikely you will ever return to Rondale Hall once you have heard the news.
My father’s coach will bring you directly here, to Graystone Hall, where I shall be eagerly awaiting your return. I am looking forward to telling you of the most remarkable and fortunate events that have occurred. Trust me, you will not be disappointed.
Most sincerely,
Clarinda Capelle
*
She could hardly wait! Now, as she sat at her dressing table, staring at her pale face in the mirror, she had not one regret. If her sacrifice would bring happiness to her dearest friend in the world, then all the misery she felt, and would continue to feel, perhaps the rest of her life, was well worth it. Lord Wentridge was here, visiting Hollyridge Manor. That meant the lovers would soon be united. Just picturing their joyous reunion made Clarinda’s heart swell. But thinking about reunited lovers soon brought her back to that dismal scene yesterday in the gatehouse when she had been compelled to reject Robert’s proposal. How stunned he had looked. He was a man who brimmed with self confidence and no doubt had never given a thought to the possibility she might say no. And why should he? What right-minded woman would reject a man as bright — witty — charming as Robert, Lord Stormont? Let alone, she thought wryly, a man with his vast wealth and high title.
How she wished she could take back her words of refusal to his marriage proposal. Her mind searched for ways to reunite with him somehow, but no use. Whether Rissa captured him or not, six months was a lifetime. Considering the cold way she’d treated him, he would never come back. She swallowed the sob that rose in her throat and admonished herself, don’t think of him. If she allowed herself to dwell on the loss of the only man she had ever truly loved, she might not even wish to survive. But that was foolish, even though she knew she would never get over her love for him. Despite her resolve, her spirits plunged as she envisioned a desolate future. She had felt the same when Jeffrey died, but for different reasons. Then, she had been a giddy young girl infatuated with a book of poems and a handsome uniform. But with Robert, she loved the man hims
elf. How could she not help but mourn his loss?
But if I’m brave enough, and strong enough, I can get over this. Surely I can create a reasonable happy life for myself.
She heard a quick knock on the door. Estelle entered, asking, “M’lady, what will you and Lady Rissa wear today?”
Clarinda succumbed to the tide of rebellion that rose within her. “I shall not be dressing like my twin anymore. Ever!” She thought of her gold necklace lying on her bosom and pulled the chain over her head. “Nor shall I be wearing this any more, either.” Disdainfully she dropped the necklace on her dressing table.
Distressed, Estelle protested, “But, madam, what will her ladyship and his lordship say?”
“They can send me off to North Wales for all I care. The way I feel today, I would be glad to go.”
“But won’t Miss Sara Sophia be coming back soon, m’lady? Surely you would weesh to be here when she arrives.”
Amazing, how quickly servants discovered every single happening in their employers’ lives. Nothing was sacred. Resigned, Clarinda replied, “You’re right about Sara Sophia. Of course I should be here, and I shall be. I really must stop moping about.” She thought of Robert and sighed.
“Oh, m’lady, I am so sorry.” In a gesture totally uncharacteristic of her, Estelle, who had always been the perfect lady’s maid, stepped out of her impersonal role and patted Clarinda’s shoulder. Her brown eyes filled with sympathy. “It ees hard, I know, what weeth Lady Rissa — ” she paused and shook her head ” — but I say too much.”
She knows about Robert, thought Clarinda, touched by Estelle’s sympathy. “There’s nothing to be done, I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I shall survive.”
Estelle picked up a brush and started brushing Clarinda’s hair. “There are other men in the world,” she said.
Looking straight ahead, Clarinda addressed Estelle’s image in the mirror. “Not for me there aren’t. I shall never marry.”
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