Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress

by Jane Ashford

  Alicia watched both of them. Robert seemed genuinely admiring, and Marianne full of confident high spirits. She did not appear overly impressed with Devere’s manner or consequence.

  “In Scotland, we had only a monthly assembly. In the summer! But here I have been to four balls already, in three weeks.” Marianne smiled brilliantly at them both. “It is my idea of heaven.”

  “And your partners’,” said the gentleman.

  “What a plumper! You said you dislike debutante balls above all things.”

  “Not when I can dance with you,” replied Devere.

  Marianne laughed, and Alicia thought again that she seemed in little danger of losing her head. She did not blush or simper over Robert’s compliments. Indeed, she seemed to take them with an amazingly sensible lightness. Where had she developed such assurance?

  A young man came up and reminded Marianne of a promise to dance. She laughed again, handed Devere her now empty glass, and went off on the young man’s arm. Devere eyed the container ruefully, one eyebrow raised, before signaling a servant and passing it on.

  “Met your match, Robert?” asked Alicia, then immediately wished she hadn’t. She did not want to put him even more on his mettle.

  But he seemed merely thoughtful. “I don’t know. It is a possibility, however, and I have never been inclined to say that before. Fascinating.”

  Alicia searched for some discouraging remark. “Aren’t you feeling rather bored with schoolgirl raptures?”

  “Do you know, I am not. It is the oddest thing. I think it is because her enjoyment is so genuine, and so deep. It is a pleasure to watch her plunge her whole soul into a dance or a new sort of fruit ice. She has such…gusto.”

  This was far more serious than Alicia had imagined. She had never seen Robert in this mood. Clearly, he would not be persuaded to abandon Marianne just now. What if he actually offered for her, thought Alicia? It would be the coup of the season. Could Marianne resist accepting? And should she refuse? Robert would make a fine husband were he truly loved; she had always thought so. But Ian MacClain was unlikely to agree. What if her unthinking predictions of a moment ago came true? Not the elopement, of course, but the two matches. With his mother and sister married to Londoners, wouldn’t the Earl of Cairnyllan have to change his opinions? Alicia started to smile at the picture, but for some reason her amusement was overridden by pity. He would be left quite alone, in a rather wrenching way. She bit her lower lip.

  “Worried, Alicia?” wondered Devere. “Your concern for Lady Marianne’s safety is beginning to seem superfluous. Perhaps you should fear for mine.”

  “Perhaps I was.”

  His hazel eyes flickered, and his smile wavered. But he recovered at once and laughed. “It has not come to that yet, my dear.”

  “Indeed?” She could not resist teasing him. It was so novel to see Robert in the position where he had put so many of her sex.

  “Indeed not. But I am deplorably forgetful. Will you dance?”

  “Why not?” She took his proffered arm.

  “Your eagerness overwhelms me,” he murmured, and she laughed.

  Alicia enjoyed the dance. In spite of everything, she found Robert very amusing and, with her worry over Marianne allayed, she could again appreciate his caustic wit. When they parted, she danced with another friend, and the remaining sets passed in the same way. It did not seem long before Lavinia came to suggest they call for the carriage. But the crowd was indeed thinning, and Alicia went upstairs to fetch her wrap.

  As she was coming out of the ladies’ retiring room, she heard voices from the stairs and paused, recognizing them.

  “But you must remember,” Sir Thomas Bentham was urging. “It was the night of the Duchess of Devonshire’s Venetian gala. You can’t have forgotten the gondolas. We rode together, remember. And you were cold. It was just after that that I gave you the roses.”

  “I really can’t recall,” answered Lady Cairnyllan.

  Alicia stood stock-still, astonished by the tones of their voices. She had conversed with Sir Thomas on a number of occasions and certainly never heard him use those soft, caressing tones. And she would have sworn that the meek Lady Cairnyllan was incapable of that flirtatious, teasing riposte. It was a revelation—they were so old!—and yet somehow touching and cheering as well.

  They had continued walking upstairs as they spoke, and now they encountered Alicia at the top. She smiled and greeted them, amused to see both her elders look self-conscious and even slightly guilty. She didn’t stay to embarrass them further, but passed by and down to Lavinia. Yet, throughout the drive home she had to restrain herself from fits of giggling.

  Ten

  Alicia had just sat down to write a letter to her father the following morning when a caller was announced. She abandoned her pen with a sigh. It was very odd, but although she was going out less often than usual, she seemed to have an even shorter time for correspondence.

  Emma swept into the drawing room looking reproachful. “Here I am again, you see. You have not come to me, so I am forced to plague you with repeated visits.”

  “You could not plague me, Emma,” replied Alicia with a smile. She indicated the sofa, and they sat down.

  “Well, I hope not. But you haven’t called, Alicia, and you promised you would. Last Season you did not neglect me.”

  “I have been remiss in all my calls, Emma. Forgive me.” It was true, thought Alicia as she said it. She didn’t know quite where the time was going, but many of her familiar duties had not been done lately.

  “You called on that Scottish girl,” Emma retorted. “You have leisure for her, but not for old friends.”

  Alicia stared at her. Neither the comment nor the petulant tone was at all like the lighthearted Emma.

  Seeing her expression, Emma shook her head and looked down. “I beg pardon, Alicia. I am not feeling quite the thing these days. I—I am going to present Winthrop with an heir, and…it is the oddest sensation.” She had flushed slightly, and now she raised her eyes as if nervous of Alicia’s reaction.

  “Emma! My congratulations. But you are happy about it, aren’t you?”

  Her friend’s flush deepened. “Oh, yes. And Jack is positively bursting.” She grimaced. “If you had seen the letter he wrote his mother…”

  Alicia laughed. “Well, then?”

  “It is just, as I said, it is an odd sensation. I…I suppose I am a little frightened.” Emma bit her lower lip and gazed at her.

  “But your mother will help. And Jack’s.”

  “I know, I know. It is nothing. Just…I have the strangest fancies sometimes. I seem different to myself.” Impulsively, she reached out a hand and took Alicia’s. “You will be my friend, won’t you, Alicia? You won’t drop away and leave me with the dowagers?”

  “Of course I will! And of course I will not.” Alicia laughed, squeezing the other’s hand. “Dowagers indeed. Emma!”

  Emma laughed a little also, embarrassed, and they fell silent. Alicia thought that, whatever their intentions, they were drawing apart. Lately, things had been slowly changing between them. Emma had new duties and responsibilities. And now…how odd it was to think of her as a parent. It made Alicia at once a bit sad and very interested and excited. She was surprised to discover a twinge of envy as well. Emma was moving into realms where she could not follow—she, who had always been the leader. And they would never be simply two carefree girls again. “You will adore him when he arrives, wait and see,” she said stoutly.

  Emma sighed. “Oh, I know I shall. I am being silly.” She smiled. “It is well you say ‘he.’ Jack will have an apoplexy if it is not.”

  “Of course it will be a boy.” Alicia’s blue eyes twinkled. “Or if it is not, I’m certain Jack will come round.”

  “But his mother!” They both giggled.

  “And only think of the shopping you must
do,” added Alicia. This time they laughed. Emma’s love of shopping was proverbial.

  “I have begun already. I saw the most cunning silver cup at—”

  But she was interrupted by the announcement of another caller, and fell silent disappointedly.

  “Am I interrupting you?” asked Marianne MacClain from the doorway, intercepting Emma’s resentful gaze. “You said I might visit, Lady Alicia, but if I have chosen an awkward time, I…”

  Thinking that really she had, Alicia rose and denied it. “We were just chatting. Come and sit down. Have you met my dear friend Emma, Lady Winthrop?”

  The two expressed ignorance of each other, and Alicia performed the introductions. But a pall had fallen over the drawing room which her several attempts at conversation seemed unable to lift. Emma looked sulky and Marianne bewildered and uncomfortable. Alicia did not feel justified in returning to their former topic without some sign from her friend, and so was limited to banalities.

  At last, her annoyance obvious, Emma rose. “I should go, I suppose.”

  Alicia also stood, relieved. She did not want to hurry Emma away, but it was clear that the three of them could not be comfortable.

  But Marianne sprang to her feet as well. “No, don’t you go. I shall. I broke in on your talk, and I am very sorry.”

  Emma blinked. This was a most unusual response. A conventional deb, in such an awkward situation, would have silently allowed her to depart, and then perhaps gossiped about her when she was well away. She looked at Marianne more closely. The girl seemed perfectly sincere; she was actually turning toward the door.

  Alicia hesitated. It might be best if Marianne called another time, but she did not wish her to feel unwelcome. It was unfortunate that Emma should be in this strange mood just now.

  “Wait,” said Emma at that moment. “Don’t go. I beg your pardon.” Marianne turned back. “I am in a peculiar state this morning, that’s all. Let us sit down again.” She and Alicia did so, and Marianne followed a moment later.

  “Are you going to have a baby?” she asked then.

  Alicia and Emma both gaped at her.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. My wretched tongue! It is just that you looked as if you were, and then you said…But it is none of my affair, of course. Only I am so fond…You are married, aren’t you?” Her eyes grew round, and she blushed scarlet at her own temerity.

  Emma laughed aloud and nodded, exchanging an amazed glance with Alicia. “But how did you know?” She looked down at her still slender figure, then up at Marianne.

  The other girl’s flush, impossibly, deepened. Her face was almost the color of her hair by this time. “Please forget what I said. It just…slipped out. I was so sorry I had come, and you looked…Oh, I wish I could learn to mind my tongue. Most of the time I am all right, you know, and so my guard is down. Then, something shocking pops into my head, and before I know it, it comes out of my mouth as well.” She sighed deeply. “It is all from growing up at the ends of the earth. If I had had someone to talk to besides Ian and the crofters. But…” She hung her head. “I used to run away and follow the midwife about. She didn’t see anything wrong with it, but Mama and Ian…” She shook her head. “I learned the look, though.”

  “The ‘look’?” responded Emma.

  “Yes. When a woman is…you know.” Her forthrightness had departed with her composure.

  “And I have it?” Emma seemed pleased as much as surprised. Her brown eyes held a soft glow.

  Marianne nodded, her lips pressed together as if to prevent further revelations.

  “How very odd.” Emma’s gaze strayed to the mirror over the mantel. Alicia and Marianne watched her with curiosity and respect. “You really are an extraordinary girl, aren’t you?” she concluded finally.

  Marianne grimaced. “People usually use a harsher word. Particularly my brother.”

  “Did you really visit the village midwife as a child?” wondered Alicia.

  “I spent many of my days with her when I was small. My childhood was…irregular. Papa was most often away, you know, and Ian had to support Mama’s spirits during…but never mind that. Are you sure you don’t wish me to go?”

  The older girls exchanged a glance and protested as one. Alicia in particular felt a renewed sympathy for Marianne, and for her brother as well. She had sometimes regretted things about her own youth—the early death of her mother and constant absences of her father—but she realized now that there had been nothing truly harsh about it. She had been surrounded by loving aunts and uncles and a host of boisterous cousins whom she led in fantastic pranks. Compared with the glimpse of her life Marianne had provided, she had been blessed. “Did you enjoy the ball last night?” she asked, knowing this for a safe subject.

  “Oh yes!” Marianne’s despondence vanished, and the three girls plunged into an animated discussion of recent entertainments. Before the visit ended, Emma was inviting Marianne to call on her, and they had agreed to a mutual shopping expedition the following afternoon. Marianne had by no means exhausted the delights of the London shops, and, when Emma promised to show her a number of new ones, her eyes positively glittered.

  Alicia saw them out with a smile, then returned to finish her letter before luncheon. She was just sealing the page when the butler came in to announce another visitor. “William has arrived from Morlinden, Lady Alicia. He says you will wish to see him.”

  “Yes indeed.” She put the sealing wax aside, leaving the letter open for an addition. “Send him up here, Bates.”

  A few moments later, one of the chief grooms of the Morland riding stables came into the drawing room. A small, gnarled man of about sixty, he looked out of place and uncomfortable in the elegant city apartment, yet his unease was clearly that of a countryman in the city rather than any personal embarrassment.

  “William, hello.” Alicia smiled warmly at him.

  “Your ladyship.” He dipped his head.

  “You’ve brought the youngsters up to Tattersall’s?”

  He nodded. “We’ve a good crop, though we kept the likeliest for ourselves, o’ course. Will you be comin’ down to see ’em, your ladyship?”

  “Yes, we can go this afternoon. Did you bring Lightfoot? Or does he stay?” She tried to appear nonchalant.

  William grinned. He had known Alicia since she mounted her first pony at three and promptly fell off when she tried to put him at a hedge nearly a foot taller than he was. And he had taught her a good bit of what she knew about horses, which would have been impressive in a man. “He stayed. A likely looking colt, Mr. Jenkins says.”

  Alicia laughed. “I told you so. He is sound as my Whitefoot. You thought he was short of wind.”

  “We watched him closer after you spoke,” replied William. “And you was right.” They exchanged a warm look, William proud of his former pupil and Alicia pleased with her expertise.

  “Go and have something to eat,” she told him, “and we will go out early in the afternoon.”

  “Very well, your ladyship.” With another dip of his head, he went out.

  They drove to Tattersalls in the early afternoon. The sale involving the Morlinden horses, and others, would be held the following day, and Alicia meant only to look over the animals William had brought. She never attended the sales themselves, though one or two women occasionally did. They went directly to the stables attached to the auction house, and William escorted her to those where his charges had been installed.

  He had brought a total of ten horses, colts and fillies not considered quite up to Morlinden standards, though superior to many others. Alicia went from box to box looking them over and commenting on the choices. She found nothing to object to; William and the chief trainer, James Jenkins, were skilled. But she did occasionally regret the loss of a horse she had particularly noticed at birth.

  “It’s like children, ain’t it, your ladyship?”
said William at one point. “You watch them kind of hopeful like, and sometimes you’re pleased and sometimes you’re disappointed, but there ain’t nothing you can do.”

  Alicia smiled at this comparison, but answered only, “I am disappointed to see Black Lady go. I was certain she’d be a winner.”

  William shook his head. “Mean tempered. We’ve done what we can, but she won’t be taught. Bites something fearful, she does.”

  As they passed on to the next box and William stepped forward to open it for her, there was a sudden loud clatter, and a boy of about fourteen tumbled out to land in a huddle at their feet. Startled, Alicia moved back.

  “Bob Rollins, you clumsy oaf!” exclaimed William. “What have you been up to now?”

  The boy scrambled to his feet. He was as tall as William, but extremely lanky. His hands seemed too large for his body, and his brown eyes were frightened. With another smile, Alicia saw that an oak bucket was affixed to his right foot.

  “If you’ve hurt that horse…” began William.

  “I ain’t. I tripped is all.”

  “Tripped. Or fell. Or knocked something. Can’t you stay on your own feet for an hour when I let you do the watering?” William turned to Alicia. “Bob is the most ham-handed stableboy in the county. He’s nigh to killed himself with every tool we’ve got. Trips over his own bootlaces.” Bob, who had been surreptitiously trying to remove the bucket stuck on his boot, cringed slightly.

  “Do you dislike working in the stables?” inquired Alicia, still smiling. “We might find a place for you…”

  “Oh, no, ma’am!” the boy broke in passionately.

  “No, your ladyship,” corrected William, adding grudgingly, “he do have a feeling for horses. He’s never hurt one of them.”

  “I’ll be more careful, your ladyship,” pleaded Bob. “Don’t go and send me away.”

  “Of course not, if you are happy.”

  Bob grinned all across his face. “Thankee.” Seeing William’s scowl, he quickly added, “Your ladyship.”