by Janet Woods
“She’s not alive,” he pointed out. “And I cannot guarantee Rafe will accept the responsibility.”
Angelina began to pace up and down the room. “Damn their hypocritical souls,” she muttered. “I have a good mind to go to London and deal with them personally.”
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she could be so scathing in her condemnation, so adamant that her mentor’s wishes be carried out to the letter. Seething with anger, her determination was made obvious by the set of her chin.
“Please stand still,” he said. “My eyes grow tired from the exercise you put them to.”
She subsided into a chair, gazing at him with eyes of ice. “If Rafe will not accept the commission and you cannot, I shall take responsibility upon my own shoulders. If you furnish me with the names of those board members who endeavour to better themselves at the hospital’s expense, I will discharge their obligations. There is no room on the board for men lacking compassion or scruples.”
“The board consists of distinguished men and you cannot be serious,” he reasoned, knowing full well she was deadly serious. “They are entitled to charge a professional fee. You have no recourse to discharge anyone. Lady Alexandra was only just tolerated, and she had to concede the reins to Lord Sotheby for appearances sake. A young, unmarried woman like you would turn them into a laughing stock. They’d resign en-masse and the hospital would cease to function within a week.”
His words were having some effect, for she gave a thoughtful frown. He pressed for an advantage. “I’ll broach the subject with Rafe, but I warn you, he’s proud. He won’t like the idea of taking recompense from you.”
“Then you must make it perfectly clear the money does not come from me.” Temper forgotten, she was all smiles, as if the matter was already settled. “Appeal to his good sense. If that fails, I’ll appeal to his -” She gave a soft, mischievous laugh. “No, I’ll not presume to barter his pride for cash. I shall fall upon my knees in a most dramatic manner and implore him to come to the rescue of a poor defenceless female.”
James laughed. “He will most likely threaten to throw you over his knee and give you a good beating for your trouble.”
“But his sense of gallantry is such he’ll agree to take the position, afterwards. James, there is no one better. I’m sure a little persuasion will convince him.”
Her ability to read character so easily was unnerving, but he had to agree with her. With his honesty, compassion, and singular lack of avarice, Rafe was the perfect choice to act as her representative on the board. He laughed. “We shall see if the matter is as cut and dried as you imagine.”
As it turned out, it was easier than he thought to persuade Rafe. “It will involve being in London for one day every month,” he offered, after explaining what the position entailed. “Angelina needs someone she can trust to represent her.”
“Say no more,” Rafe murmured. “I’m happy to place myself at her service. She’s such a helpless little creature. The hospital must be a heavy burden for her to bear.”
Angelina, helpless? James had a sudden urge to guffaw. Flopping into a chair he gazed at Rafe. “I believe you suffer from some degree of delusion about Angelina.”
“I believe I do.” Rafe looked just as amused as James felt.”Do not be tedious and relieve me of it. She makes me feel quite noble at times.”
Gallant! she’d said. He grinned.
“I must tell you, a messenger delivered a letter from your sister regarding the matter in question; a most heart-rending appeal. Angelina has an admirable turn of phrase, she nearly had me in tears.”
“I see,” he said faintly.
“I thought you would.” Rafe raised his glass. “Let’s drink to all the fools who fell for the wiles of a pretty woman.”
“And all the fools who didn’t?” James suggested.
“Exactly.”
Solemnly, they clinked their glasses together before dissolving into laughter.
Chapter Twelve
The ballroom looked beautiful.The chandeliers sent out jewels of light as the sun touched upon them. At the far end, the minstrels gallery was decorated with draped silk and garlands of leaves. Orange trees ranged down one side of the room, and velvet-seated chairs gilded with gold had been carried down from the attics, dusted off and arranged in tasteful clusters.
The French doors opened outwards into the sheltered inner courtyard, framing a magical loveliness. There, the mosaic tiled pool had been scrubbed clean, and two stone dolphins sent forth spouts of glittering water. Candles in floating holders were lined up on the side waiting to be sent journeying upon the water, coloured lanterns hung amongst the more exotic trees and ferns flourishing in the sheltered garden.
One of the two grottos had been decorated with silken hangings, a harpist hired to play soft music to those seeking respite from the dancing. The other had been curtained off. A gypsy skilled in the art of palmistry would occupy it to tell fortunes for a silver coin.
Angelina and her mother had come across the gypsy on the road. Clinging to the gypsy’s skirt was a small boy with dark solemn eyes. A hungry expression rode his pixyish face, making her wonder when he’d last eaten.
Angelina smiled and offered him a bonbon she discovered in her pocket. With a mischievous grin he darted forward to snatch it from her hand.
“Tell your fortune, ladies,” the gypsy said, her demeanour suggesting she expected a refusal.
“It would be a novelty to have a fortune teller at the ball,” Angelina suggested to her mother. “I’d love to know what the future holds for me.”
“I do not believe in such nonsense,” her mother said, but she was plainly
considering the idea. She suddenly smiled at the woman. “If you’re seeking to earn a little for yourself and your son, I can offer you the opportunity tonight.”
The woman gazed openly at Elizabeth then. She was young, her skin rough and weathered from exposure to the outdoors. Though ragged and dusty from the road, she had a proud look to her. Dark penetrating eyes touched upon something in her mother.
“Lady, you are deeply troubled. You have a good heart, but you are deceived. Amber can give you answers to those questions which plague you.”
“I have no questions.” Her mother shivered and directed the woman to the kitchens for sustenance. Deep in thought for a while, she said nothing more about the gypsy and soon returned to her old self.
They exchanged a smile of satisfaction as a servant placed cushions on the stone benches of the courtyard, then Angelina said. “What if the orchestra does not arrive on time?”
“We shall dance without music.” Elizabeth smiled, took up a pose and began to hum the accompaniment to a minuet as she danced.
In the spirit of the occasion, Angelina made a small bow and held out her hand to her mother. “My dance I think, Lady Elizabeth.”
They went through the motions of an exaggerated minuet, beginning to laugh when Angelina adopted the role of the dancing master she’d had in London.
“Non, mademoiselle, point zee toe, thus. Bon, bon! Zat eez better. We will make zee dancer of you yet. Hold up zee head - up! Non,non, not so far up that you are looking at zee ceiling! I am in despair! You must be elegant - elegant. Turn zee head slightly, smile at your partner. Non, you must not show zee teeth in such a manner. Your toe is not pointed. Point zee toe!
A cough sounded from behind them. Guiltily they spun around, the laughter still lingering in their eyes.The earl had a bemused smile on his face, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d observed.
The carefree expression on her mother’s was hidden behind a facade of calm dignity.
“There’s something you wish to discuss with me, Thomas?”
He indicated the case he was holding. “I wanted your opinion on whether this would be a suitable gift for our daughter, but as she’s here, I shall seek hers instead.”
Angelina sucked in a surprised breath when he flipped open the lid. Reclining in a bed of faded gree
n velvet was a string of creamy pearls. A green stone set in gold filigree glowed in the middle.
“It’s exquisite, more than I deserve.” She gazed at her father with shy wonderment. “Thank you, father.”
“My pleasure.” The earl cleared his throat. “It belonged to my mother. I considered the emerald a suitable match for your eyes.”
“That was thoughtful of you, Thomas.” Elizabeth took up the necklet and gazed at it. “It’s a fitting gift for Angelina. She’ll look well in it.” Clasping it around Angelina’s neck her glance came up to her husband. Her smile held a hint of warmth. “You gave me the matching ring as betrothal gift. With your permission, I would give it also to our daughter.”
A tender, faraway expression softened the earl’s eyes. “I had not forgotten,” he said quietly. “Your hands were so small it slipped from your finger and I had it altered to fit.”
Seeing her father thus, Angelina mused, his affection for her is truly written upon his face. So why is mama beset with sadness in his presence?
He pressed a kiss in Elizabeth’s palm. “If it pleases you to gift the ring to Angelina it’s my pleasure also.”
“Mama!” The moment was lost when Rosabelle rushed impatiently into the ballroom “My maid says she cannot arrange my hair in the style I want. The girl’s a fool. I want her replaced.”
“She cannot be replaced at such short notice.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “If Ellen is unsatisfactory, why have you not complained before this?”
Rosabelle took up position next to her father. “She’s always tired, and has become insolent. Why can’t I have a maid from London, like Angelina?”
“Perhaps my maid will be willing to arrange your hair on this occasion,” she offered. “I’ll ask her if you wish.”
“One does not ask a maid, one orders her.” Her eyes suddenly focussed on the pearls. Her eyes widened. “Isn’t that the necklet Grandmother Wrey is wearing in the portrait in the gallery?”
Elizabeth’s voice was almost a purr. “It’s your papa’s gift to Angelina. It suits her well, do you not think?”
“I’m not fond of pearls.” Rosabelle feigned a yawn, but her eyes were sharp with annoyance when she slid her arm through her father’s. “The diamond set would suit me much better.”
“No doubt,” Thomas said dryly when Elizabeth gasped. “However, the diamonds are part of the Wrey inheritance. Traditionally, only the countess may wear them.” He gave Elizabeth a courtly bow. “I hope you will please me by wearing them tonight.”
Rosabelle managed to smile, saying prettily, “If Angelina is to be favoured with such a handsome gift, I cannot believe you plan to offer me something of less value.”
“The value of a gift is in the heart of the recipient, not in its cost, but I do not think you’ll be disappointed.” He took a box from his pocket and handed it to her. “You are fond of rubies, I believe.”
The ring flashed fire when she slid it on to her finger. Three flawless rubies were interspaced with two diamonds. It was a pretty piece. She held out her hand, turning it this way and that. “This is of the same design as the pendant I admired. They must have been a set. A pity to separate them.”
Her avarice had never been more obvious to those watching. Angelina watched their father stiffen. “The pendant had been purchased by another.”
Rosabelle’s glance went to the pearl necklet then back to the ring. Angelina could almost see her comparing the value. She removed her arm from her father’s and smiled in an odd, secretive manner. “Perhaps another will present me with it. That emerald will look well with the green gown you intend to wear, Angelina”
“Green gown?” Elizabeth gazed at her in astonishment, having inspected and approved of Angelina’s gown just the day before.
“Didn’t she tell you?” Rosabelle flung over her shoulder as she flounced towards the door. “The yellow one was roughly handled and became torn and dirtied. One cannot trust maids to do anything these days.”
Her mother turned, gazing at her in consternation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Angelina smiled a little. “It was a day gown that was torn, and it was not due to Clara’s carelessness. It was mine.”
Turning to her father she smiled, thinking it time the air was cleared between them. “Would it incur your displeasure if I spoke frankly, sir?”
“It might.” His smile was wry, as he attempted to put her at her ease. “It depends upon what you have to say.”
“I believe relations between us are a little strained.” She hesitated, giving him a nervous look.
He made a humming sound in his throat, but his expression remained neutral.
“I cannot expect you to feel towards me as you do towards Rosabelle. It brings no fault to either of us that we were strangers until quite recently.” She saw him grimace, so she concluded hurriedly. “I would like you know how much I appreciate the gift you gave me today. I’ll treasure it, always.”
“Thank you, Angelina.” He seemed to be about to say something else, for there was a struggle of emotions in his expression. He managed to compose himself, and giving her a formal little bow turned to Elizabeth. He pressed his lips to her hand before striding away.
She turned to face her mother, who was staring at her pensively. “Have I angered him?”
“If you had he’d have let you know it.” Elizabeth smiled, partly at Angelina’s courage, and partly because Thomas had shown her affection. She’d always thought she understood him better than he understood himself, yet his attention had been totally unexpected. He’d made her feel as soft and vulnerable as the girl she’d been when they first married.
Angelina’s words had made an impression on Thomas, and Elizabeth knew he was still struggling with his conscience over the girl. There had been a subtle change in him of late, and she could only wait and hope.
“Go and rest now,” she said to Angelina. “A maid will bring you some broth. After you’ve eaten, you can sleep until it’s time to ready yourself for the ball. I want you to look your best.”
“I shall be unable to eat or sleep,” she answered, her eyes sparkling. “I’m much too excited.”
“Nevertheless, you’ll try,” and taking her by the arm Elizabeth led her from the ballroom. When she checked on her daughter later, she discovered Angelina was fast asleep. Elizabeth stared down at her for a moment, then gently touched her cheek, marvelling at the way fate had restored this lost child back to her.
With a toss of her head, she banished the self-pitying tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes, then drew the curtains over the windows to shut out the sunlight and the noise of their house guests arriving. Once again, she gazed at the dear face of Angelina.
“Thank you, God for restoring to me this most precious of gifts,” she said humbly.
* * * *
“I’m sorry, My Lady.” Clara was near to tears as she picked up the hairbrush. “I couldn’t get here any sooner.”
Angelina stilled the strokes of the brush. “You’re upset. Has my sister been rude to you?”
Her maid flinched when she reached out to touch a red mark on her face. Her eyes darkened. “Did she do this?”
Clara sniffed. “She said she didn’t like the style and made me do it all over again. It took ages to do all them curls again because her hair’s frizzy at the ends. Still, she wasn’t satisfied.” Clara began to weep. “She said I was making her look ugly on purpose so you’d outshine her at the ball. I told her nothing would make her better looking than you.”
“And she slapped you.” Handing her a handkerchief, Angelina smothered a grin. “I’ll make her apologise to you.”
Clara eyes widened in fright. “Beggin’ your pardon, My Lady. I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that, and if I don’t get you ready on time I’ll be in more trouble.”
“You’d better arrange it in my usual style then, Clara, I doubt if there’s time for the one we planned.
“I can manage,” Clara muttered, he
r fingers deftly divided her hair into sections. “I’m not about to give that madam the advantage, not while I still live and breath.”
There were two minutes to spare when Clara finished. Angelina gave her reflection an approving glance, and Clara a smile of thanks. Her hair had been curled, then drawn up into a circle of creamy silk-petalled flowers at the crown of her head. Small tendrils curled around her face, a longer one was arranged to curl about her shoulder and neck. Shaking her shimmering skirts into fullness she made her way to the door.”
“Your birthday gift, My Lady.”
“She planted a quick kiss on her servant’s cheek as the necklet was clasped around her throat and the ring slid onto her finger. Then she was speeding through the corridor and down the stairs.
Her mother frowned when she hurried into the ballroom so she slowed to a sedate walk. She grinned in triumph when the clock chimed the hour, and was the recipient a faint congratulatory grin from Celine.
Her family looked splendid, the men cut handsome figures in their wigs and fine attire. Her face suddenly fell and she exclaimed. “I’ve forgotten my fan.”
“You’ll have to survive without it then,” Elizabeth said tartly.
Her father glanced around him in annoyance as the first guest was announced. “Where’s Rosabelle?”
“I’ll go and find her,” William offered.
“No” He exchanged a greeting with the guest before introducing Angelina. “She can account for her lack of manners later. I’ll not have Angelina’s introductions spoiled.”
Angelina could have done without the introductions, which seemed to go on for ever. She doubted if she’d be able to remember a single name, except for those she’d met previously in London.
Nicholas Snelling was embarrassingly voluble in his praise of her appearance. He recited a long and tedious poem which he’d composed especially for her birthday.
