by Vanessa Gray
Lydia’s affection for Chloe was overshadowed by her intense longing for bright lights and gaiety. Her mind, shallow at best, was stimulated by outside influences rather than by any inner resources. Sunlight and shadow passed over her thoughts with no more than momentary hesitation. She herself would have dismissed her own remarks last night as being a laughable misfortune, and she had no true idea of how badly she had behaved.
However, she knew what she must do.
“I am sorry, Chloe. I had no idea it would all turn out this way. I wouldn’t distress you for the world. Please say you forgive me?”
Chloe of course could do nothing else. “Yes, Lydia, of course, I forgive you.”
Lydia threw her arms around her sister, and kissed her cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t hold a grudge, you never have, and you’re the best, dearest sister anyone ever had.” She even remained to help Chloe arrange a scarf around her shoulders and said, “There, you’ll be just fine to go with me and Mama to town to Miss Sinclair’s.”
Chloe, somewhat surprised, said, “Why? You have your ball gown.” Then fearing to bring up the memories that she was trying to bury, she added, “Besides, I’m too tired.” The girls descended the stairs, arm in arm, and met Edward in the hall. “There you are, Chloe,” he said, “I’m glad to see you. I wanted to say good-bye to you before I leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yes I’m going up to London for a sennight. My correspondent in London has written, and what with the ball and everything —” Edward broke off here to glare at Lydia, who promptly found a matter of interest in another direction — “I had not read the letter until this morning.”
“So you’re going for several days then, in the coach.” Edward raised an eyebrow, and said, “Of course. Look at the weather.”
Chloe turned to Lydia and said, “That settles it, then. We can’t go to town in an open carriage on a day like this.”
Lydia wished that Edward had not overheard Chloe’s remarks.
Edward said, in a minatory fashion, “What are you going to town for?”
Lydia, with an offhand air, said, “Ask Mama.”
Edward said, “Later I will. But just now Invers is paying a morning call on Mama, and I hesitate to interrupt them.”
Lydia, shocked, cried, “Invers?” And incontinently fled.
Edward, left alone with Chloe, apologized. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about last night. I trust the affair will not linger in your mind, for you do not usually carry grudges. Lydia is thoughtless, and says what comes first into her mind.” Or, thought Chloe, whatever somebody else has said first.
Edward said, “I only want what is best for you, and Lydia has nothing to say to the point.”
Chloe, surprising herself, said, “Do you, Edward? You think Invers and I would suit?”
Edward flushed with embarrassment at having his inner thoughts read so closely. “At least he isn’t that idiot Francis. But,” Edward added on a quieter note, “I’d hate to see you leave Rothwell. This is always your home, no matter what happens.”
Awkwardly patting her shoulder in real affection, he took his leave and mounted into the coach. He did not go at first to London. The letter he mentioned was similar in content to Aston’s letter to Richard. It had thrust Edward at last into action.
In the ordinary way, Edward was propelled solely by duty and an unshakable belief that he knew what was best for all under his roof. The letter from his correspondent in London had unsettled him to a large extent. Truly, it was on his half-sister’s behalf that he was making this hurried trip. He needed to settle Chloe’s affairs, once and for all, for he believed that Thaddeus Invers was going to offer for Chloe. There would be questions of marriage settlements — and Edward needed to have more facts in his hands than he had now.
On the way to London, he stopped first of all in town to settle Miss Sinclair’s bill for Lydia’s ball gown. The gown was most unsuitable for a girl of Lydia’s age, and especially for a country ball, but it was not Miss Sinclair’s fault. His mind turned over the events of the ball last night, and he found little therein to satisfy him. He knew his mother was ambitious, and while her thoughts might now lie on getting Lydia “off,” her real affection was reserved for Sophy. An unfair arrangement, Edward thought, but there it was, for he himself had no true rebellion in him to make him stand up against his mother’s wishes. It was a coil, to say the least.
Edward was not one to look into the future. Today’s duty was enough for him, and he considered that he did his best each day. Today, he stopped to see Miss Sinclair, for he was quite sure she would need money. She had made an outlay for the cloth and her work on the dress, and Edward was not like most Londoners, letting bills pile up and having little regard for the financial stringencies of the tradesman.
Bidding the coachman stop, Edward descended and was admitted to Miss Sinclair’s house. He was inside for some time before he emerged from the seamstress’s door, tight-lipped and flushed with anger. Coachman watched Edward helped into the coach, and waited for further instructions. When none came, for the simple reason that Edward was too furious to speak, the coachman set his vehicle in motion, and they were partly on the way to London before Edward was able to make a decision. Then, although his first wish was to return to the Manor and make his wishes known without possibility of misunderstanding, he realized that it was too late. Satisfied that he had at least dealt effectively with Miss Sinclair, he allowed the motion of the well-sprung coach to lull him, and, thinking of his wakeful night, he dropped off to sleep.
Meanwhile, at Rothwell Manor, Thaddeus Invers emerged without notice from Lady Rothwell’s morning room and caught sight of his quarry. Chloe, watching Edward’s coach disappear down the drive, had turned to seek Lydia again, and came face to face with him.
“I must go” she began, but Invers, not to be denied, urged her into the Green Salon. He was clearly going to offer for her, she realized with sinking heart. He approached her, and she retreated. He pursued her, and her instinct was again to move away, until she realized, with faint amusement, that they were performing a very odd dance figure. She stopped short. It would not help to evade him. Best simply to have it out and be done with it.
She settled herself on a small green-and-white striped satin chair, and waited. Invers, unable to say anything directly, said, “I came down from London last week because I had heard reports of a rustic beauty hidden in the countryside. I congratulate myself that I have at last found her.”
Chloe turned startled eyes upon him. “Rustic beauty?”
Thaddeus Invers continued. “I myself have long since tired of the sophisticated charm of the ladies of society. Lady Emmaline Parker, for instance. A charming lady, but I weary of being instructed at every turn.”
She let him talk, with only half her mind attending, and at the mention of Miss Thalassa Morland — not so beautiful as she was reported to be, so said the ungallant Invers — Chloe’s thoughts turned into a new channel. Miss Morland was one of those whom Lady Rothwell’s sister, Mrs. Hensley, had mentioned as hoping to become Lady Davenant. It was clear that Richard would not long remain unmarried. Chloe did not wish to think about the changes in her life that would follow upon Richard’s marriage, but it was a subject that drew her like a magnet. Tears welled in her eyes when she thought of how very much alone she would be.
Invers, surprisingly, noticed the tears in Chloe’s eyes, and felt he was clearly moving her beyond composure. Encouraged, he told her, circling around and coming closer to the point, “I wish to find an unsophisticated lady, of little learning, who would become a partner to me, one who would learn to value the things that I value, who would in fact be a complement to myself.”
He continued in this vein. Chloe listened, at first appalled. Then, realizing the exact meaning of Invers’ remarks — that he wished to find a bride of little learning and little sense, whom he could shape and educate as he wished, she realized that she was becoming angry. Chloe had often been i
rked lately, and had not responded with any quickening of her temper. But this time she was tried too sorely. Invers had gone too far, and her temper boiled closer to the surface.
Chloe stood up. “You wish an answer? I’ll give you an answer.”
Thaddeus was privileged to see an angry spark in her gray eyes that very few people had seen, and no one for the last fifteen years, at least. Her childish temper had been long since brought under such control that it hardly existed any more, but Thaddeus Invers was accomplishing the near impossible. He was rousing it.
Chloe cried, “You believe to ingratiate yourself by telling me I know nothing of society? That I am ill-educated? That may be so, for I make no pretensions along that line.”
Thaddeus put out a hand as though to stop her, but she ignored him.
“I suppose one might feel honored at your offer, Mr. Invers. Although I make no pretense at logic, I suppose one might expect a man’s most ardent words to come on the occasion of his offering marriage. However, if this is a sample of your regard for me, to turn every word into an insult, then I fear you have nothing to teach me. I do not know a great deal, for I have been involved in running a household and have not had time to pursue the intellectual channels you speak of. But I do know this — I shall not enjoy being educated by a man for whom I feel absolutely no respect.”
She was gratified to see that he stared at her in stupefaction, and could not at first find words. His lips moved like a fish’s, but then his natural self-love took over. “I did not expect such spirited response,” he began, “but I assure you that you need not fear I shall not be a devoted husband.”
Chloe said, “You were not listening. I shall not marry you.”
Recovering somewhat, he managed a smile, and said, “Perhaps I have made a mistake, and should have approached you with a different emphasis. I had the feeling that you were a woman of good common sense, but now I see that you need affection just as anyone else.” He advanced toward her with the clear intention of giving her a first installment on the caresses he thought she demanded. She retreated, but eventually he backed her against the table. She had no escape. He took her in his arms and attempted to plant a kiss on her forehead. Loathing swept over her, and she summoned all her strength. She broke away, ran to the bell, and pulled it. She glared at Invers and tried to arrange her hair into a more orderly appearance.
Field, waiting outside and debating with himself as to whether to interrupt Miss Chloe and her unwelcome suitor, responded immediately. The situation was clear to him. Standing large and firm as Gibraltar, and holding the door wide, the butler fixed Thaddeus Invers with a cold eye.
Chloe said, “Field, Mr. Invers is just leaving.”
It was an unnecessary remark. Field stood, the embodiment of respectability and supported by the knowledge that half a dozen strong men were within call. There were two footmen in the kitchen, and a stable boy and two grooms in the servant’s dining room, having their morning tea.
Thaddeus, clearly in the wrong, yielded the victory. He turned at the door to sneer at her. “I understand why you haven’t wed until now. Your fugitive charms, out of sight to the ordinary, had to be brought to light by the reflection of silver.” Then he gathered his strength and hurled the one epithet that he thought would wound the most. “Vinegar-tongue!”
Chloe closed her eyes and stood with one hand on the table to support herself. Her knees shook, and she felt that if one more person spoke to her she would fall into screaming hysterics. Part of her was aware that Thaddeus was crossing the hall with urgent step, and she was sure that Field was right behind him. Invers, full of his own injuries, did not look where he was going and plunged out the front entrance directly into the arms of Sir Richard.
Richard, staggered by Invers’ impact, set the man aside and continued up the steps. Richard entered the door held wide open by Field, and said softly, “Trouble?”
Field, gratified at Sir Richard’s appearance, nodded with his head toward the Green Salon. The two men understood each other.
Sir Richard said, quietly, “I see no need to inform Lady Rothwell that I have called.”
Field, feeling that Sir Richard was a man who knew what he was about, nodded wisely. Richard entered the Salon. He was dismayed to see Chloe with both hands to her face, in tears.
Richard crossed to her, speaking softly as he came. The butler, ears at the strain, did not hear. The door closed softly behind them. Field, turning to the newly arrived footman, said, “You didn’t hear nothing, did you?”
The footman, startled, could only nod agreement. Field continued, “Our Miss Chloe didn’t ought to have to put up with the likes of him!” Field jerked his head toward the departed Invers, who was now no doubt halfway to town.
Within the Green Salon, Sir Richard, greatly distressed by Chloe’s misery, did not need to speculate far to understand what had happened. He led her gently to the settee and let her weep. Eventually, a frown between his eyebrows, he sat beside her. He pulled one hand away from her face and folded it together within his own fingers.
“Don’t tell me you had to listen to that foolish man,” sympathized Richard. He was unaware that he was echoing the butler’s less polished sentiments in the hall.
She managed to say over the lump in her throat, “Oh, Richard, he was dreadful!”
Richard said, in a matter-of-fact voice, “Of course he was. But I would not at all wonder that he left here with worse than he gave. I saw his face, you know, and he didn’t have things all his way.” It was clear to Richard that she was beginning to recover somewhat, for she had stopped her sobbing and only gulped now and again.
“I can’t quite believe that my old playfellow remembered that she had a temper?” he rallied her gently, and was rewarded by a watery smile.
Chloe said, “I did rather lose my temper. He was dreadful, but then —” she finished with a rush — “so was I. I do not wish to think of the things I said!”
Richard said, “Some day you will tell me, and we will both laugh at the idiot’s pretensions.” Finally, judging the time was right, he said quizzically, “My dear, shall I challenge him to a duel?”
She gurgled appreciatively, and he judged the storm was over.
He was becoming weary of coming and finding Chloe beset by one trial after another. Each time, the trial was of such a nature that Richard felt he could not speak his heart to her. Richard, never a patient man, found the waiting intolerable until the time was right to speak to Chloe. He still had not heard from his cousin Nell, and while not a prudent man, Richard was a thorough one and wished to have all the threads in his hands before he made his next move.
He resolved to keep a closer eye on Rothwell Manor, even to the point of interfering. He wondered where Edward was, why had he not thrown Invers out in the first place, and when he left Chloe, restored to good humor, Richard returned home more troubled than ever before.
23
Richard had come and gone, and Chloe was alone. It was true that around her moved the various activities of the household. Cook, fully recovered from the removal of her painful tooth, was planning an especially intricate dinner, Sophy and Lydia were following pursuits of their own, and Lady Rothwell was rousing from her long day’s nap.
Edward, before he left for London, had had a strenuous interview with his mother. Lydia’s behavior at the ball had been the subject of his strong representations to his parent, and while Lady Rothwell took exception to some of the terms her son had dared to use, yet since he was out of sight, he was also to some degree out of mind.
She had not the slightest doubt that she could bring Edward around to her way of thinking. While Lydia’s outburst at Lady Partridge’s ball was regrettable, yet it changed nothing in the long run.
But, feeling a strong need to settle her nerves, she sent for Chloe.
Chloe had busied herself with small, routine, everyday things in order to erase the memory of Thaddeus Invers. Bess stored Chloe’s gown in the wardrobe and put aw
ay her slippers. Chloe thought, I won’t wear them again, and was conscious of a feeling of wistfulness.
She had enjoyed the affair until that dreadful moment when Lydia’s voice rang out across the room.
The thought of Lydia moved her to check and find that Lydia had not yet returned Chloe’s mother’s pearls. Just then came the summons from Lady Rothwell, so Chloe stopped on her way and rapped lightly at Lydia’s door. If she had expected Lydia to become overcome by embarrassment and regret for the evening before, she was wrong. Lydia had spread out around her on the floor old copies of the Ladies’ Magazine and she scarcely looked up when Chloe entered the room.
Chloe said, “Lydia ...”
Lydia looked up then, and said, “Oh, it’s you.”
Chloe, somewhat nettled, said, “Whom did you expect? I just stopped by to ask you to be sure to return my pearls, before you forget.”
Lydia looked up at her then, a veiled look crossing her face. “All right,” she said, “but did you see this new magazine?”
Chloe said, “Later, Lydia. I don’t have time now. Mama has sent for me. Don’t forget the necklace.” Lydia’s mind, once fixed on fashion, could not be easily distracted.
Lady Rothwell was waiting impatiently for Chloe. “Ah, there you are, Chloe,” said Lady Rothwell. “I feared that you must have fallen asleep. After such a late night, it is only understandable. But Edward seemed not to need as much sleep as the rest of us. I do not understand where he gets the energy that he exhibited this morning.”
Lady Rothwell, some of Edward’s remarks still lingering in her mind, thought it wise to test Chloe’s present mood. Lady Rothwell now realized that Chloe had become someone to be reckoned with — for any heiress could upon the wink of an eye become capricious, even the gentle Chloe. Lady Rothwell had much to gain by Chloe’s good humor, and much to lose if Edward’s prophecy — that Lydia would have turned Chloe against them all — came true.
