by Jan Constant
was taken to be other than quite a lady!” As she had hoped the others laughed, lightening the atmosphere. “However, I have learned my lesson and shall only purchase the most demure of headgear in the future.”
“A wise lesson, Emma, which it is as well to learn early in life,” commented Lady Beauvale. “I may add that some females of my acquaintance have yet to benefit from their mistakes. Now, run along girls, I have ordered the landau to be at the door at eleven. ”
Arriving back in her room, Emma was pleased to find Maria there and gave her an impulsive hug.
“How have you fared?” she asked.
“Oh, miss, ain’t this house big? It’s bigger than the George, and that was an inn. And look at my dress! Isn’t it beautiful?” She smoothed her long white lawn apron and spun round to show off her gown of lavender print. “All the maids wear them—and I’ve got new shoes and stockings, too!”
“You look very pretty,” Emma told her, which was true; freshly bathed and dressed in new clothes, rather than secondhand rags of any size or style, Maria was revealed as an attractive young girl.
Smiling broadly, she executed a spirited jig around the room. “I ain’t half going to like it here,” she said, coming to a breathless halt in front of her mistress and assuming a more sober demeanor.
“Now, Miss Emma, Mrs. Hill said as I was to get you ready to go out with milady—” She bit her lip, looking confused. “What do I do?” she asked, suddenly a child again.
Emma laughed. “Find my hat and blue spencer jacket, ” she told her, “which should not be difficult, as I saw Hill put them away in the clothes press last night.”
She was quickly ready and was not aware of her own shabbiness until she encountered Elvira, a vision of fashion and style in a pale pink gown and clover velvet spencer and bonnet. Suddenly realizing her need of new clothes, she under-
stood that her guardian’s gesture had not been merely one of condescension and, despite certain misgivings about accepting his gift, felt a wave of excitement at the prospect of shopping.
Lady Beauvale and her maid were already taking their places in the open carriage as the girts crossed the hall, and they hurried to join them; Elvira insisting that they should share the back-facing seat, while her aunt had the pleasure of seeing where they were going.
The coachman quickly took the carriage out into the traffic, leaving the quiet of the square behind as they joined the stream of vehicles and horses that filled London’s main thoroughfares. The sun was warm enough to cause Lady Beau- vale to shield her complexion under a parasol, but Emma and Elvira trusted to the shade of their bonnet brims, eager to see and, in Elvira’s case, to be seen.
At first Emma was unhappily aware of her drab attire, sinking back in the comer of the seat and making herself as effacing as possible, but after a while she forgot her embarrassment and lost her self-consciousness in looking at the buildings and people as Elvira pointed out anything of interest.
Almost too soon, they arrived in Oxford Street, and, bidding the coachman to return in an hour, Lady Beauvale led the way into the first of many shops. Three made-up morning dresses and the same number of afternoon gowns in various muslins and lawns were quickly chosen, with a new spencer jacket in cream silk and a long, patterned shawl to go with them; then the ladies turned to the more exciting business of choosing the material and style of two evening gowns.
Elvira was much taken with a shimmering gold silk, but, remembering the hat disaster, Emma settled instead for a white silk gauze and an aquamarine satin, both of which Lady Beauvale declared to be charming. Having been measured, Emma and her companions left the dressmaker’s establishment and went happily in search of accessories to go with the new ensembles.
The somber-faced Hill, following behind, was soon laden with boxes and packages, which she clutched to her bosom with a righteous air, despite the best endeavors of the girls to carry their own purchases. Emma soon lost count of the gloves, ribbons, fans, feathers, and lace which they bought but was aware with total satisfaction that she now owned two hats, both of which had enough style and fashion to throw the red silk creation bought in Portsmouth quite into the shade.
Sated, she followed Lady Beauvale and Elvira into the landau, and her joy was overflowing when she discovered that they were to drive through Hyde Park on the way home. She was recalled from the happy reverie of her numerous new possessions by the sight of a gentleman standing on the side of the path, bowing as they passed. Acknowledging this courtesy with the briefest of civilities, Lady Beauvale began at once to discuss a dinner-dance that she proposed to hold for the girls, leaving Emma with the distinct impression that she had wished to ignore the incident.
Certain that she had recognized the man who had been on the stairs at Portsmouth, Emma looked back to see that he was watching the landau out of sight, making no attempt to hide his interest.
Waiting until they were alone in the sitting room that had been assigned to them, she asked Elvira casually for his name and had her suspicions confirmed.
“But do not mention him to my aunt,” she was adjourned. “For he is the most dreadful man—we only acknowledge him in the slightest way, you know. I am not precisely sure of the circumstances, but I believe that he called Julian out. Of course, it was years ago and all hushed up, but we do not choose to mix with him.”
Curious but feeling it would be unmannerly to ask further, Emma hid her disappointment, for she had found Lord Dev-
era attractive and even more so on this second meeting. As the carriage had driven away, their eyes had met for an instant, and she was almost sure that she had seen a flare of recognition in his pale gaze. Her heart beat quicker with excitement at the thought, and she wondered if he would contrive to make her acquaintance during the coming months.
“Did he and Sir Julian actually fight a duel?” she could not resist asking.
‘ ‘Well. . . Ju was the injured party, so he had the choice of weapons.” Elvira seemed reluctant to go on, and Emma gave her a sharp look, discovering something like chagrin on the other’s face. “Would it not have been romantic to have one’s brother fight a duel?” Elvira asked abruptly. “Of course I was in the schoolroom at the time, but you can imagine my mortification when I heard what the wretch had chosen!”
“I can’t, for I have no idea what weapons he favors,” put in Emma, impatient to learn the end of the story.
“Fisticuffs!” declared her friend in tones of disgust. “What must the ton have thought? And Ju is a bang up shot, too.”
Emma considered. “That really was remarkably clever,” she said at last, reluctant admiration in her voice. “That choice would certainly have made sure of the affair being kept secret. Think how foolish Lord Devern must have felt, if it got about.”
“Well, yes, I daresay he would,” was Elvira’s reluctant agreement. “But I still think Ju was sadly lacking in high ideals.”
“Romance is all very well, but sometimes practicality is not to be sneezed at,” said Emma, for once in accord with her guardian.
“Pooh!” remarked the other, tossing her black curls. “Soon you will be telling me that my brother is in the right to be mistreating me so.”
Emma hastened to reassure her on this issue, so effectively that, having made certain that they were alone with no one in earshot, Elvira bent closer with a confiding air.
“I am in touch with my dearest Bevis,” she announced triumphantly, her eyes sparkling. “By good fortune, Hetty’s brother works at the ‘Angel,’ an inn near here. Bevis has taken the direction with the intention of sending letters there, and Hetty will collect them when she visits her brother. Is not that well arranged?”
“Sir Julian would not like it!” proclaimed Emma solemnly, her eyes bright with amusement.
“No, indeed. And that’s one of the joys of the whole thing,” declared the baronet’s undutiful sister. “Ju is too busy by far interfering in other’s affairs.”
Emma could not but agree with this
sentiment, and the two girls smiled impishly at each other, pleased with the thought of outwitting Sir Julian.
“And when do you know if this postal system of yours will work?” Emma inquired.
Elvira could not restrain a little twitch of excitement. “Today!” she cried. “Hetty is calling on her brother this very afternoon. ’ ’
“Now, what could be more romantic than that?” asked Miss Beringer with satisfaction, and, for the moment, well content with their prospects, the girls fell to the pleasant task of examining their morning purchases in the minutest detail.
Chapter Five
To Miss Leyton’s joy, the longed-for letter spoke of a sooner than anticipated return to London, as Mr. Browne’s employer had business needing attention. This so pleased Elvira that when Lady Beauvale proposed a walk in the park for the next afternoon, an event which was usually viewed with less than favor, she agreed without protest.
The ladies were taken to the park gates in the landau, which drove away with instructions to return in an hour. Hill and Lady Beauvale deposited themselves on chairs near the entrance, and the girls were encouraged to stroll along the paths under their benevolent eyes.
“This will be very dull,” discoursed Elvira, taking Emma’s arm, ‘ ‘unless we have the good fortune to meet up with an acquaintance.”
For a while Emma was content to air her new bonnet and view the members of fashionable Society, who had come to see and be seen. However, after a time this occupation palled, and she began to think kindly of her stay on the Peninsula where she was known to everyone and had forgotten what it was like to be a stranger.
“I do declare that is Clarissa Melvin waving to us!” observed her companion suddenly, and, following her gaze, Emma saw a tall girl among a group of young people gesturing toward them. * ‘I am sure I do not know why she should be so enthusiastic, for we were never particular friends at school,” Elvira went on as the group approached.
“Elvira, dearest,” gushed Miss Melvin the moment that they were in earshot of each other. “How delightful this is, to be sure. I vow it’s an age since last we met.”
“How do you do, Clarissa,” replied Elvira. “Are you in town for the Season?”
‘ ‘My mama has taken rooms for the next two months. You are the first of my friends we’ve met. Pray let me introduce my brother, Freddie—this is Miss Leyton of whom you have heard me speak.”
She pushed forward a rather shy-looking youth, who seemed on the point of growing out of his obviously new clothes. Blushing, he bowed, dropped his top hat, picked it up, and muttered something inarticulate as he shook Elvira’s hand.
“This is my brother’s ward, Miss Emma Beringer,” she returned, indicating her companion, which announcement caused obvious interest among the newcomers, who turned a concerted gaze upon Emma.
“I say—not the Beringer Heiress?” asked one youth, more brash than the others.
“Dash it all, Henry old fellow, mind your manners,” put in Freddie, blushing for his friend. ‘ ‘Not the kind of thing to say, y’know.”
“Only asked a civil question,” muttered the brash one, melting away to the back of the group.
“My apologies, Miss Beringer,” said Freddie Melvin, seeing her puzzled embarrassment. “Pray forgive the impudent fellow.”
To her surprise Emma found that she rather liked the gangling young man, who reminded her of some of the youthful officers she had known, and she offered him her hand. “My name is Beringer,” she allowed, “but I assure you that I would know if I was an heiress,” she told him, laughing at the ridiculous suggestion.
“Of course you would. Only a rumor—no one knows precisely how . . . Sounds like a play, doesn’t it?” Freddie went
on somewhat incoherently and, abruptly abandoning the subject, bowed and offered his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you back to Lady Beauvale?” he asked.
The group of young people opened to receive Emma and Elvira, and by mutual accord proceeded toward the main gate. Lady Beauvale looked questioningly at their approach until her niece took introductions upon herself, and then the older woman nodded and smiled.
“I believe that I was at school with your mama,” she commented. “Pray give Mrs. Melvin my compliments, and tell her that I should be very happy to receive her card. Perhaps we could arrange a picnic for you young folk. . . . But now, I see the landau is at the gate, so make your farewells, Elvira and Emma. We must not keep the horses waiting.”
“I wonder why Clarissa was so friendly?” mused Elvira after dinner that evening as the girls amused themselves with a pack of cards. ‘ ‘We were not in each other’s ‘set’ at school. In fact I thought her a dead bore. She was always giggling and flirting with the music master!”
“I thought that her brother seemed quite sensible—he reminded me of some of the young officers I knew—all bony wrist, freckles, and blushes!”
Elvira laughed. ‘ ‘He was rather endearing, wasn’t he? Like a half-grown colt. They must be a horsey family—skittish would describe Clarissa,” she observed darkly, before going on, “Oh well, I suppose it is pleasant to know someone of our own age. I do wish I had been one of a large family, don’t you?”
“I’ve often longed for a big brother.”
Elvira shuddered. “You are welcome to mine,” she offered, and then fell silent, nibbling her finger and obviously thinking deeply, while gazing thoughtfully at Emma. “Surely,” she said at last, “Julian being your guardian must make us almost related?”
Emma considered. “W—ell... a guardian is in place of a parent—but that would make you my aunt!”
‘‘Pooh! What nonsense!” cried Elvira. ‘‘We shall have to be just special friends. I do hope that Aunt Diana really intends to arrange an outing,” she went on, her eyes sparkling at the thought. “And perhaps she will invite them to our dinner-dance. How fortunate that she knows Mrs. Melvin. We only have to wait for that lady to call on her, and all will be settled.”
The girls’ anxiety was put at rest the next day, when Hetty informed them that Mrs. Melvin was at that moment in the act of making a morning call upon Lady Beauvale. Her daughter accompanied her and soon was escorted upstairs to the young lady’s sitting room.
“My dears,” trilled Clarissa, pausing in the doorway, “is not this delightful? To find two friends so unexpectedly—and just when one was resigning oneself to the dullest of stays, for you must know that brothers and their friends are dead bores.”
Elvira found herself so in agreement with this sentiment that the next few moments were taken up by extolling the annoying natures of brothers.
“And to think that all my life I have thought myself hard done by in lacking one,” Emma remarked into a pause in the conversation. “Only think from what I have been saved! I must own that I had no idea that the breed behaved so shabbily.”
Elvira looked closely at her, suspecting that she was being teased, but Clarissa accepted the statement and at once began to list Freddie’s faults.
A tray of coffee and pastries was brought in, and as the cups were filled and passed round Clarissa turned confidingly to Emma.
“Now, tell me, my dearest Miss Beringer—of course I only mention it as we are such friends and I promise you that my lips are sealed—is the tale true?”
Emma was amused. “I have no idea what you mean,” she said.
‘‘Oh, come now. There is no need to be secretive with me. I assure you that the story only appeals to my romantic nature—that you are an heiress can mean nothing to me. I view money as of very little importance, I can tell you.” Emma set down her cup and sat up straight. “You are mistaken,” she declared firmly. “Far from being an heiress, I am as poor as the proverbial church mouse.”
Miss Melvin’s eyes opened wide, and she took a breath preparatory to making another remark, but, catching Emma’s austere gaze, she closed her parted lips and smiled in an understanding way. Favoring her with a knowing nod, she turned to Elvira, who, seeing her fri
end’s annoyance, had turned the conversation by reminding Clarissa of the music master at their mutual school.
“Of course I remember Senor Conti,” she cried, losing interest in the “Beringer Heiress.” “He joined the army when he was dismissed so unfairly and now is teaching drill, wearing a vastly fetching uniform. I happen to know, for I saw him last month at my little brother’s school. He positively goggled when he saw me, but I behaved very correctly and refused to meet his eye . . . until just before we left, when I gave the poor man a little encouragement with the tiniest smile. Mama, of course, did not recognize him.” Emma and Elvira found very little to reply to this and shortly after, Miss Melvin left, called to rejoin her mother and continue their round of morning calls.
“Well, did you ever meet such a henbrain?” asked Elvira in disgust. “She obviously only came to quiz you about the rumors she had heard. ’ ’
“What is this about an heiress with the same name as me?” wondered Emma. “Have you heard the story?” Elvira shook her head. “But then, I’ve only recently come up from the country,” she pointed out reasonably, “and, to be honest, I’ve had other thoughts on my mind. When one is in love, the rest of the world is at a distance, you know.” For the first time she gave the matter her attention. “It is odd—Beringer is an unusual name.” She looked closely at her friend. “You don’t have an elderly, extremely wealthy relative, do you?”
Emma shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard of,” she replied. “Both my parents were only children—I suppose that I must have cousins somewhere, but I’ve never heard of them.”
The mystery was explained the next day; she was crossing the hall and encountered Sir Julian, who begged for a moment of her time, ushering her into his study.
