by Jane Ashford
Katharine laughed again. “You look like a little boy who has discovered how to escape his nurse.”
“Well, I feel rather like one. I can’t remember having such fun since I slipped away from my tutor and spent the day with the gamekeeper’s son poaching the neighbors’ pheasant run.”
“You didn’t! I can’t believe it of you, Lord Stonenden.” Her amber eyes brimmed with laughter.
“Oh, yes. We had a famous time. I have always thought it was worth the whipping I got for it. But what do you think of my idea?”
“I think it is wonderful. Easily worth three whippings.”
He looked down at her, startled, then began to laugh. “It won’t come to that, fortunately. But you will do it, then?”
“Assuredly. I would not miss it for anything.”
“Splendid. I’ll have the tapestry moved at once.” He looked down at his diagram with manifest satisfaction.
“I have never seen you so pleased,” said Katharine. “Why is this so important to you? It is kind of you to think of me, but…”
“It is only partly that,” he admitted. “Of course, I think you should see people’s reaction to your painting without enduring their stares. But it will also give the party a unique piquancy for me, to know you are there secretly observing.”
“Ah. I might have known it was something like that. You are merciless, Lord Stonenden.”
His smile faded. “I don’t mean—”
“I was bamming you. I think it a very good joke.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He grinned again. “Do you think we might tell one or two trustworthy people? To share it.”
“I should like that above all things, but I have observed that telling even one or two usually lets a secret out. One’s trustworthy confidants tell another one or two, and so on, until finally some quite untrustworthy person is told, and then all is lost.”
“I suppose you are right. Indeed, I know you are. It shall remain our secret, then.”
Katharine nodded. “And thank you.”
He rose. “I cannot stay. I should have met Alvanley a half hour ago. But I wanted to tell you face-to-face rather than writing a note.”
She nodded again, understanding the impulse.
“I will inform you about the party. It will be an odd gathering—both Sir Thomas Lawrence and Mrs. Drummond-Burrell have consented to come.”
“You have asked them already?”
“Merely preparing the way for my invitations. I wanted to make sure of a few leading lights beforehand.”
“How efficient you are.”
“Of course.” They exchanged another smile before he bowed and took his leave. Katharine, watching him ride off from the front window, did not realize until sometime later that she had forgotten to ask him what he had meant the previous day.
Katharine had put the final touches on the portrait that morning, signed it, and thrown a cloth over it to keep off the dust while it dried. Nothing remained to be done, and she found that she did not want to begin painting anything else just now. Thus she spent the next few days catching up on neglected reading and seeing some of the friends she had abandoned for her work. She received one note from Stonenden reporting on the plans for his party and the sensation its announcement was creating, but she did not go out to see that sensation for herself, preferring to observe it secondhand. Others were only too ready to report. When her picture was dry, she had it carried to Lord Stonenden’s house, taking elaborate precautions to keep it secret. And then she sat back and awaited the day of the showing with a mixture of trepidation and eagerness.
Two days before it was to occur, Katharine and Mary sat in their drawing room in the evening reading quietly. When the bell rang below, Katharine looked up at once, however, for she was rather bored with her book and welcomed the idea of company. And when the maid ushered Tony Tillston into the room, she stood and held out her hand with a pleased smile. “Tony! I haven’t seen you in an age.”
“I know it,” he answered, bowing over her hand and greeting Mary. “I have come to complain about it.”
“To me?”
“Yes, it is all your fault, you know. Since you saddled me with your cousin Elinor Marchington, I haven’t had a moment to call my own.”
“Not ‘saddled,’ Tony.”
“It’s becoming something very like that. I didn’t mind at first, but the thing is going on a long time, and I’m beginning to be very uneasy about Marchington, I must tell you. I joked about his calling me out, but after last night, I begin to wonder if the man ain’t unstable.”
“Last night?”
Tony stared at her. “You mean you haven’t heard the story yet? It’s all over the ton.”
“No, I haven’t seen anyone today. Elinor called when we were out shopping, I believe.”
“I daresay she did!”
“Well, come and sit down and tell me.”
“All right, but if I had known I would be the one to bring the news, I might not have come tonight.”
“Is it so very bad?”
“Well, Marchington made a public fool of himself. But let me tell you, and you may judge. It happened at Covent Garden; there was a masquerade last night, you know.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, no, you wouldn’t. I…er, chanced to escort a friend there—”
“Not Elinor?”
“Of course not! It was…uh…that is…”
Katharine laughed. “Go on, Tony. I think we know what you mean.”
“Yes…well, at any rate, Marchington was there before me. He came alone and, from what I could see, more than half foxed. I didn’t notice him particularly at first, though I understand he was noisy and abusive even then. But it wasn’t until Countess Standen and Stonenden came in that he began to shout.”
The smile on Katharine’s face appeared to freeze. “The countess and…?”
“Stonenden. Yes. Everyone thought that affair over, but apparently Stonenden was simply tired of the crowd. I had it on the best authority that he told her to dismiss the puppies if she wished to see him, and the countess complied.” Tony looked meditative. “Though if I know her, she will have done it in a way to keep them dangling.”
Katharine, sitting very still, said nothing.
“At any rate, when they came in, Marchington went absolutely wild, started shouting insults and threatening Stonenden. I mean, the man must be mad, trying to call out the best shot in the country. Stonenden refused, of course, but I wonder he had the patience to do so. Marchington was dashed offensive. And of course, the gossips got hold of it at once; they’re talking of nothing else.”
“Oh, dear,” said Mary. “Poor Elinor.”
“You may say so. And poor Tony as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if Marchington decided to take out his spleen upon me. He’s not overfond of me, you know. That’s one of the reasons I called. I think I’d best sheer off your cousin a bit. I shouldn’t like to face a scene like that myself. I haven’t Stonenden’s address.”
“What…what did he do?” asked Katharine, her tone odd enough to make both the others look at her.
“Who? Stonenden? Oh, he tried to shame him into keeping quiet at first. Whew! I’ve never heard such blistering set-downs. But Marchington wasn’t having any. Some of his friends finally took him away.”
“I see.”
“If it hadn’t been so close to me, I should have enjoyed seeing the countess’s face, though. She was livid.”
At this moment, the bell was heard to ring again, and soon after, Elinor Marchington came running into the drawing room. “Katharine! Have you heard?”
Katharine nodded.
“Oh, my dear,” said Mary.
“Kitty told me this morning. I came here, but you were out. What am I to do?”
“Do?” Katharine looked at her but did not seem to really see her.
“Yes. Tom is getting worse and worse. I was sure your plan would stop him, but it does not seem to be working. What shall we
do?”
Slowly Katharine shook her head.
“Nothing you can do,” answered Tony. “Better to leave the thing alone now.”
Tears started in Elinor’s eyes. “But…but…I thought it was all settled. I was sure…” She choked.
“Yes, well…er…” Tony looked at Katharine, but she was staring at the floor.
“Mr. Tillston is right,” said Mary Daltry then, in a tone which made him turn to gaze at her hopefully. “You have done everything you can, Elinor. Everything that a woman of character may do. Now you must let things take their course.”
“You mean, just give up?”
“Not exactly, though I do not see that there is any further action you can take. You must wait now. That is very hard, I know, but you must do it. And, perhaps, pray. Things will come right in the end, I am sure.”
Elinor, wide-eyed, turned to Katharine, but she did not seem to be listening. Elinor’s shoulders slumped. “I was so sure it would work. I did not even think of anything else.” She bowed her head.
“Perhaps you should go home and lie down now,” added Mary kindly. “Mr. Tillston, would you escort Elinor home?”
“Oh, but I—”
“Please.”
Tony blinked, then rose and held out a hand. “Of course. Will you come, Mrs. Marchington?”
Elinor stared blankly up at him, but Mary bustled over and gathered her things, urging her to her feet. “There you are, my dear. A good night’s rest, that is what you need. Try not to think of any of this. I will come and see you first thing in the morning.” As she talked, she draped Elinor’s shawl over her shoulders, hooked her reticule over her unresisting wrist, and put her arm into Tony’s. Almost before Elinor realized what was happening, she was being escorted down the stairs and out to her carriage.
Mary turned back with a sigh. “There.” She looked at Katharine with concern clear in her eyes. “My dear, are you—?” But she was interrupted by another peal of the bell and footsteps on the stairs. Before Mary could intercept the new caller, Eliza Burnham walked into the room.
“I met Elinor outside, so I suppose you have heard the story. Katharine, something must be done about that boy. He is becoming a London spectacle.” Lady Burnham smiled at her friend; then her brows drew together. “Katharine, what is the matter!”
The girl started. “What?”
“You look…I hardly know what. Haggard. Is something wrong?”
Katharine put a hand to her forehead. “Nothing. I am tired.”
“She was just about to go to bed, actually, Eliza,” put in Mary.
“At eight o’clock? I was doing nothing of the kind.” Katharine sat up straighter and motioned Lady Burnham to a chair. “What can I do about Tom, Eliza? I can think of nothing. I shall be glad of your advice.”
“It is difficult. I own I haven’t any ideas. But really, he has created a scandal.”
“Yes. The gossips must be in ecstasies.”
“Well, they are.” Eliza sighed. “It’s no good talking to him, I suppose?”
“None. At least, if you mean that I should talk to him. I think it may be time to write his father.”
“Yes, indeed. Past time.”
“Well, I would have done it long since, if Elinor had not protested so. She is convinced it will ruin her life.”
“Well, Tom himself is doing that.”
“Yes.”
“Of course, Stonenden may—”
“We needn’t bring Lord Stonenden into this,” interrupted Katharine icily, and Eliza stared at her.
“I have another idea,” said Mary. “I shall write Tom’s mother. I have nearly done so several times, but I held off in the hope that the thing would come right. We are not good friends, but we are acquainted. I think that she could be a great help.”
“Fine,” replied Katharine. “Let us do that, then.”
Mary nodded. “I shall write tonight.”
A silence fell. Katharine stared at the floor. Mary watched her anxiously, and Eliza Burnham, following her gaze, was again shocked by the look on the girl’s face. The ticking of the mantel clock seemed loud.
Finally Lady Burnham ventured, “Everyone is talking of your painting, in spite of Tom’s antics. I’m desperately anxious to see it myself, and I must say I haven’t forgiven you for not giving me just a glimpse beforehand.”
“My painting!” Katharine laughed shortly.
Eliza exchanged a look with Mary. “Do you still mean to stay away from the party?” asked Eliza. “Nothing could keep me from going.”
“Oh, yes. It is impossible that I should go now.”
Lady Burnham cocked her head and examined Katharine as if she were a worrisome puzzle. “Do you go, Mary?” she said absently.
“Indeed, yes,” replied the older woman firmly.
Katharine turned to stare at her, and Eliza followed her gaze.
“I am very proud of your painting, dear,” added Mary, “and I mean to be there when everyone is praising it. I shall praise it myself.”
Her cousin’s expression softened slightly. “Thank you. But you needn’t—”
“I am determined to go.”
“As are we all,” added Eliza.
Katharine shrugged.
“Lawrence is coming, you know,” Lady Burnham went on. “It will be the oddest collection of people ever gathered at a fashionable party. They say Mr. Winstead is so pleased with his invitation that he no longer even cares about the painting. And Sally Jersey has asked Fanchon to make her an ‘artistic’ headdress to throw all the rest of us in the shade. She can’t bear to have anyone else admired, of course. I daresay she will look a shocking quiz.”
Abruptly Katharine rose. “I am tired,” she said. “Forgive me, but I think I must go up to my room. You will excuse me, won’t you, Eliza?” And before the older woman could answer, she strode out of the room.
“What is it, Mary?” asked Lady Burnham. “She is burnt to the socket. It is quite unlike Katharine. Is it this painting?”
“Partly. But mostly…you will treat this as a confidence, I know, Eliza…mostly it is Lord Stonenden.”
“Stonenden! You don’t mean…? Katharine?”
Mary nodded, and, unexpectedly, Eliza Burnham began to smile.
Fifteen
The first thing Katharine did the following morning was write a note to Lord Stonenden telling him she had changed her mind about attending the showing of her painting. She composed it hastily and left it on the hall table to be posted when she went down to breakfast. However, five minutes later she left her meal and went to retrieve the envelope, crumpling it in the pocket of her gown as she hurried back to the breakfast room. Her mind was in a turmoil, and had been all night. She was certain of only one thing—she never wanted to see Oliver Stonenden again—and this note would probably lead him to call. She would simply not go, she decided then. He could do nothing about that.
But when the night of the party arrived, Katharine wavered. Mary put on her best lavender silk and left the house at nine, very excited about the event, and when Katharine sat down with a novel, determined to read quietly and go to bed early, she found she could not concentrate. She could not help but wonder what society would think of her work. Stonenden was making a real show of it; the canvas was covered, and he would unveil it at ten precisely. Could she let pass a chance to see everyone’s reaction?
“No,” said Katharine aloud. “I will go. It is so late now that I can slip in unnoticed, and I will leave early. I needn’t speak to anyone.” Stonenden’s housekeeper had shown her the back entrance one day last week.
Katharine hurriedly pulled on a dark dress, which would be harder to see in the unlikely event that someone should glimpse her hiding place, and took a hack to Stonenden’s town house. The back door was unlocked, as arranged, and she went in very quietly and walked along the corridor past the kitchens. All the servants were busy, and none seemed to notice her as she moved warily along the hall behind the ballroom to the s
mall door at the side.
She removed her bonnet and shawl there, and then, taking a deep breath, slowly opened the door. At once she could hear a babble of conversation. But only a dim recess about three feet square was visible, nearly filled by a straight chair. Letting out her breath, Katharine slipped in, hung her shawl on the chair back, and sat down, shutting the door behind her. She remained still for several minutes, getting accustomed to her position and listening.
She could hear very clearly. Someone just on the other side of the tapestry that hid her was talking about horses, and farther off a woman was telling someone else about a dressmaker she had found. Katharine looked at the watch pinned to her bodice. It was a quarter to ten; she had arrived in time.
Very carefully, she leaned forward. The tapestry had been arranged so that its edge hung just over the edge of the doorway. Thus, by pulling it very slightly to the side, Katharine could obtain a view of the ballroom in front of her, and it was very unlikely that anyone would notice this tiny slit.
It was a strange sensation, watching the crowd from her hidden vantage point. Katharine had often been an observer of society, standing aside and cataloging the foibles of its members. But even then, she had retained some feeling of belonging; she had been a part of the scene she observed. Now she was completely detached from it. No one could turn and stare at her as she did at them. She found herself at once more critical and kinder in these circumstances. She could see the flaws in her various acquaintances more clearly, but she also discovered more compassion than she had previously had for them.
Suddenly Katharine saw Lord Stonenden walking directly toward her. It was her first sight of him this evening, and something about the purposeful way he approached made her heart hammer in her chest. It almost seemed that he might expose her hiding place to the crowd.
