Was it possible that in some wise she had a part in his motive?
The first thought was of her fortune. Last year she had been pursued by two fortune-hunters. The horror of such an idea seemed to argue for its being convincing. Clarissa reached for reason. First of all, how could St. Tarval know anything about her fortune? Who would have told him? She was fairly certain that Kitty did not have any idea.
She owed it to him and to Kitty not to leap to hasty conclusions. That (she realized with a sense of regret) would be to follow the somewhat absurd example of poor Andromeda in Kitty’s novel, a thought Clarissa would never share out loud.
She began her day with determination to be rational and useful, but the first challenge to it came in the form of a note from her betrothed, saying that he wished to consult her about her departure from London for Hampshire.
She had always behaved with strict attention to delicacy and decorum, having been taught that the world would treat her with the same respect. Alas, it was not always so. Furthermore, the visit to Cavendish Square had served as a reminder that Grandmama had no scruples about speaking her mind. But no one could say she was not a lady.
Clarissa sat down and wrote to thank her betrothed for his solicitude, begged off because of an engagement that evening, and invited him to join their party on a ride the next morning, weather permitting. She folded the note and sent a footman to dispatch it so that it would arrive with the afternoon post.
Her mood did not lighten when Rosina pulled back the curtains to reveal a beautiful morning.
Rosina could see at a glance that something was disturbing her mistress. She knew that she would not hear the cause. Miss Harlowe never complained, though some felt she had reason a-plenty. So she talked cheerfully about the cake now baking, and Pobrick’s nephew, newly promoted in the stable, who had a way with horses.”... and Becky has helped Alice ever so,” Rosina added as she finished laying out Clarissa’s morning dress.
Clarissa had not heard one word in ten, until her maid mentioned Alice, the Tarval Hall girl of all work who had been summarily promoted to lady’s maid. Here was a chance to do some possible good at very little cost to anyone.
“Do you think Becky would like to work for Lady Kitty?” Clarissa asked.
Rosina clasped her hands. “I think she would like it above all things. At least while Lady Kitty is in town, for you know there is a deal more work to be got through in the season. We have all taken a hand, for poor Alice was in a state and did not know where to turn next.”
“I will speak to Becky in the course of the morning, Rosina. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
Clarissa threw back the covers and got out of bed. It was a strange thing, how the prospect of doing something for others could motivate one. Was there anyone who would put her first?
No, she could not let herself think like that. There could be no good in it. All the same, her mood remained uncertain as she shut out her sisters’ high-spirited chatter at breakfast. Great was the anticipation of the younger two at the prospect of a visit from Bess Devereaux. She wondered how Kitty could express delight so sincerely, though she doubtless knew how the noise would increase with the addition of another volatile girl. But it was strange. Kitty never seemed to mind the girls, the noise, the high-spirits.
Kitty admitted as much on the ride to Hyde Park. “Now that I know how I am to understand Elizabeth Devereaux, I have a great deal of sympathy. I expect it is because I was not so very different when I was fifteen.”
“You could not have been so loud,” Clarissa said, trusting in the safety of the crowded street not to be overheard.
Kitty chuckled. “True. But I might very well have been, had I sisters instead of a sickly grandmother who cherished her quiet.”
It was then that Lord Wilburfolde appeared on his borrowed cob. He joined the ladies, scrupulous in his greetings and his queries after their health. It was very soon evident to both Kitty and Clarissa that he was wishing to speak to his betrothed. Kitty saw her brothers riding side by side, and hailed them with relief.
She turned her horse to joined them, before she became aware that the two riders behind them were Lord Arden and Mr. Devereaux, the latter of whom looked so very well on horseback. She could not define how, for the others were equally excellent riders, and one might say that a riding coat was a riding coat, but the fit of Mr. Devereaux’s over his shoulders, the angle of his hat on his waving dark hair, even (she knew she must never utter such words aloud, but she felt it all the same) the line of his leg in the fawn-colored breeches, with the shiny boots coming up just so under the knee, his tout ensemble was altogether...
She mentally searched for a word to express how the sight of him made her feel as if her entire body had been turned into a fairy lamp, and someone had set a candle inside her. And when she glanced one more time, met his gaze, and he touched his hat before she quickly looked away, the candle brightened to sunlight.
He would make an excellent companion for Clarissa, she firmly reminded herself.
She urged her horse between her brothers as the parties combined. Mr. Devereaux dropped back to ride with Lord Arden, who was eyeing the pretty young ladies who passed by. This left Mr. Devereaux at leisure to observe Lady Kitty and her brothers, the three making so handsome a group they caught many an eye in passing. As usual, Lady Kitty appeared to be blithely unaware of the stir that she caused.
“London has agreed with my cousins, I apprehend,” Lord Arden said to Mr. Devereaux, who bowed his agreement. He added thoughtfully, “Especially the distaff.”
Mr. Devereaux sent an inquiring glance. “Would it be too inquisitive to ask if you’ve an interest there?”
Lord Arden looked startled. “Oh, no. That is, one wouldn’t mind trying, if one weren’t rung a peal over at any mention of their names. And,” he lowered his voice, “if one were not sadly aware that one must look for a fortune.”
Each gentleman took in Kitty’s glowing complexion, the curl of her lips, the stylish habit that suited her charms. Lord Arden cast a sigh, and contemplated the unfairness of a universe that seemed determined to place only the plainest and most awkward heiresses in his way.
The Decourceys were a startling contrast to the pair riding directly behind them, Clarissa riding stiffly, with heightened complexion, Lord Wilburfolde talking volubly. Occasional words floated back: “esteemed parent,” “metropolis,” “nuptials.”
Mr. Devereaux was not certain, but he thought he caught a reference to Hymen’s saffron robes. Clarissa interpolated each time the man paused to draw breath, “Ah, there is my grandmother’s friend Lady Wimbourne,” and “I beg pardon, but I must make my salute to General Bligh, who is connected to Hetty’s new family,” and once, “Oh, do but look at that delightful hound. I so admire that particular breed.” All to no avail, it seemed.
The party reached the end of Rotten Row. The marquess and his siblings wheeled their horses, pulling to one side so that Lord Wilburfolde and Clarissa might have space to turn. In that moment Clarissa looked St. Tarval’s way, her face expressive of longing—an expression Mr. Devereaux would have sworn was foreign to her quiet nature.
He drew his horse back, wondering what exactly happened at Tarval Hall?
He was not the only one aware of Clarissa’s unhappy expression. Kitty sighed to herself, wondering how Lord Wilburfolde could be so oblivious to the effect he caused. She could not think of a way to rescue Clarissa without causing a stir.
But Mr. Devereaux did know. With such excellent address that none of the others were aware of how it came about, he contrived at a turning in the path to cause an interruption in the party.
Lord Arden instantly secured Lady Kitty’s company to himself for a pleasant interval of flirtation, leaving the brothers and Lord Wilburfolde riding together, St. Tarval posing questions in order to get a better sense of this man Clarissa was expected to marry, and Lord Wilburfolde expatiating happily. In his own family, it was not often that he was the
principle talker.
Mr. Devereaux did not like intrusions into his private life any more than his cousin did, but he now understood a great deal more about his cousin’s inexplicable behavior this spring.
Riding next to Clarissa, under the protection of the others’ conversations, he murmured, “I have often observed that marriage being used as a cure for the might-have-been is seldom successful. There are fewer errors in motivation more conducive to unhappiness than that.” He then shifted the subject to the masquerade ball their grandmother was planning, which kept her from having to reply.
Lord Wilburfolde talked of the extent of his property, enumerating exact numbers of acreage, cows, bushels, and parishioners. Carlisle sympathized with the pride of place; had he been asked, he would have provided similar facts, but he was not.
Edward privately wagered with himself how many times he would hear the words my honored parent says.
Lord Wilburfolde liked being the principle talker, but his mood did not improve. Clarissa had not given him the expected assent to his insistence that she terminate her visit to the metropolis.
He was determined to carry his point, and this very day, so he was on the lookout for an opportunity to change places with her cousin. However, when the party did change, and he secured the place by Clarissa’s side, he was frustrated in his intentions by presence of Clarissa’s guest riding at her other side.
He was not witness to the look of anguish Clarissa threw at Kitty, and her voiceless plea, “Stay.”
Kitty courageously embarked on a long conversation about hats.
Mr. Devereaux observed all this with private amusement, and an increase in admiration for Lady Kitty’s loyalty, while keeping a prudent distance.
So Lucretia, riding by in her mother’s barouche, did not see him paying any attention to that country-mouse Lady Catherine Decourcey. But scarcely had she acknowledged her sense of justice when she glanced at St. Tarval, to discover him gazing steadily at...
At whom?
She turned all the way around in the carriage in an effort to see.
Her mother smartly rapped Lucretia’s knuckles with her fan “What will people think, Lucretia, when you gawk like the veriest country bumpkin? You owe your father and me more than that. . .”
Lucretia ignored her, too amazed to retort. Why would St. Tarval be staring at that dowd Clarissa Harlowe like that?
She scarcely heard one word in twenty of her mother’s scoldings all the way home.
TWENTY-SIX
Lord Wilburfolde found himself unequal to the task of hinting away the persistent Lady Catherine. Determined to establish himself as the head of his future household, he stayed at his post all the way to the stable, where he obliged the Chadwick stable hands to accommodate his cob. “I shall accompany you to the house,” he stated to Clarissa, “as we have not finished our conversation.” As he spoke, he glanced at Clarissa’s guest.
Even that failed to divide the young ladies, and so the three of them walked in silence to Brook Street, no one speaking unless required to as the ladies paused in the vestibule to put off bonnets and gloves. Lord Wilburfolde relinquished his hat, his mood sorely vexed.
Clarissa led the way to the drawing room to discover it in the possession of Tildy, Eliza, and two schoolgirl friends who had been permitted to make a morning call. They were in the middle of a noisy game of Speculation, overseen by Miss Gill, the younger girls’ governess.
Ordinarily Clarissa would have been amused by the startling change of smiles for sobriety when the girls first hailed Kitty then became aware of Lord Wilburfolde, who had politely permitted the ladies precede him into the room.
The girls scrambled to their feet to make their curtseys. “Good morning,” the girls chorused, hastily echoed by their friends.
“Your lordship, Miss Clarissa,” Miss Gill said in her nervous twitter. “Shall I remove the children to the schoolroom?”
Tildy proclaimed, “But Clarissa, Mama promised we could entertain Celeste and Margaret, and we are to have apple-tartlets to tea!” She indicated their best morning gowns, evidence that indeed, Lady Chadwick had sanctioned the girls’ use of the parlor.
“Child,” Lord Wilburfolde said heavily, venting his mounting frustration on Tildy. “What kind of example do you set to thus address your elders without your opinion having been sought?” Ordinarily he did not mind young persons, as long as they were presentable and quiet, but every moment he was in this house seemed to surround him with noise and disorder.
Tildy flushed, and muttered an apology.
Clarissa said, “We shall use the back parlor, Tildy. You and Eliza and your guests may bide here.”
Lord Wilburfolde was left with nothing to say. Kitty observed the back of his neck reddening, and stepped out of the way. The last time she had witnessed Clarissa in this mood was when the latter had flung her cloak around Kitty and bade her to sit in the coach, the night the yacht sank. She followed the betrothed pair, wondering if she should stay or go.
The back parlor proved to be occupied by Lady Chadwick and Mrs. Latchmore. The latter immediately entreated her favorite to join them, enabling the gentleman to say, with a glower at Kitty, “Thank you Ma’am, for your kind invitation, but I entered this premises with the intention of begging a moment’s private conversation with Miss Harlowe.”
Kitty flushed, apologetically meeting Clarissa’s gaze.
“In that case,” Clarissa said, still using that crisp voice, “we shall repair to the schoolroom. Thank you, Kitty, for your company.”
Kitty nodded, flicked a polite curtsey to Lord Wilburfolde, and retreated to her room.
Up one more flight of stairs Clarissa trod, her lips tightened against an exclamation. Rudeness to Kitty was the last straw.
They entered a sunny room redolent of apple juice and chalk dust, the sturdy, much-used tables and chairs too small for a grown man. Clarissa moved to the window to open it she said, “Would you care to sit?”
He frowned at the battered furniture. “I am comfortable standing, for I only intend to remain a moment.” And he delivered himself of the much-interrupted speech that he had been formulating, and practicing, all through the morning.
She listened without speaking.
He reached the end, and as she was still silent, he said, “Pray inform me when it will be convenient for our departure from the metropolis? I should like to give orders as soon as I may.”
“When my father desires us to leave, of course.”
Lord Wilburfolde stared. “But I just represented to you the reasons why, with my great respect for your family, you ought to bring your visit to a close. We could save considerable money traveling together. With your maid along, no one would question an affianced pair—”
“I beg your pardon for interrupting, but I feel I ought to assure you that you were most clear, Lord Wilburfolde. But I intend to remain with my family until our customary time of departure.”
“I do not understand why,” he exclaimed.
“If we exclude my duty to my guest, there is also my family who have a claim on my time.”
He fidgeted with his gloves, angry and frustrated. “I believe,” he said, “that an affianced man should not have to remind his betrothed that his claims ought to be put before anyone else’s.”
“And what about her claims?” Clarissa asked so softly he almost did not hear the words.
“Her claims? Lady Catherine may return home, or stay as your mother’s guest. I see no claims here,” he said.
“I meant the claims of the bride.”
“The bride?” he repeated, hands out. “What claims? A lady brings to her marriage her good name and her dowry, and the gentleman endows her with his good name, his family, and all his worldly goods. What claims can she make?”
“Put that way,” she said slowly, “it places the blame squarely on the woman who is not grateful for the bestowing of your family and worldly goods. But there is no gratitude in my heart. No more can I reli
nquish my soul in taking your good name, sir, and so...” Her heart beat in her ears. “... And so I must inform you that I find that I cannot consent to wear that name.”
Exhilaration thrilled through her, coupled with a sense of recklessness that she usually only felt on horseback; yet she was not flying on the back of a galloping horse, she stood right here in this dusty room. She went on more firmly. “If you believe that your claims ought to be put before my family’s, and I believe my duty requires me to put my family before all else, then we have reached an impasse that might be insurmountable.”
“Insurmountable,” he repeated, wondering how he could state his case the more strongly.
“By that I mean that we had better put an end to this engagement.”
“Miss Harlowe! You can’t do that,” he exclaimed, thoroughly appalled. “The papers—the neighbors—my mother—”
She had said the words and the sky had not fallen. But she had never feared the malice of the stars. “Surely your mother will find you a more biddable wife, Lord Wilburfolde. I am very sorry if I have given you pain, but on reflection, I believe that we do not suit.”
“I—I—”
“You have only to send a notice to the papers that our engagement it at an end, and then you may ride home as soon as may be, and you will be comfortable again,” she said kindly. Oh, how good it felt to be free!
Lord Wilburfolde felt himself to be caught in a nightmare. First his valet wanting to marry, and now this! He managed a bow, and put his hand to the door.
She did not call him back.
As soon as he was gone, Kitty entered the room, her eyes widening when she took in Clarissa’s flushed face, her odd smile. “Clarissa?” she ventured.
“I did it. I jilted him,” Clarissa said, and sat down on a battered chair meant for a ten year old, and laughed breathlessly. “I should write his mother and thank her for reconciling me to the life of single blessedness, for she claims she lives to be useful. But, however, it is all too likely that she would write back.” She laughed unsteadily. “I had better talk to my father.”
Danse De La Folie Page 25
