by Joan Smith
“Oh, what a tease you are! I bet he says an sorts of romantic things. Only it is the oddest thing that he never sent the ring. Does he mention it?”
“No, I expect he will bring it with him. It would not be wise to be sending a valuable diamond through the post.”
“And naturally the Marquis of Claymore could not afford to send it by a private messenger!”
“It is a valuable family heirloom. Joan says it is an emerald-cut diamond, bigger than yours. Very likely he is having it cleaned or reset.”
“I wonder he didn’t take care of that when he offered it to Miss Golden. Wouldn’t it be the drollest thing if he has given it to her? Don’t look so worried, Ellie. The Duke will make her give it back if that is the case. Oh, how I shall tease Claymore when he comes. If he comes, ha ha. Really, one begins to wonder. He was to be here by now, was he not?”
These harrowing interludes left Ellie shaken. Her courtship had been so brief as to be practically nonexistent. It was only too easy to fall into thinking Claymore had changed his mind. His occasional letters did nothing to restore one’s self-confidence either. And why didn’t he come?
Wanda never tackled Ellie in front of her mother or sisters, so she received no strictures on her behavior. She did, though, recall her mother’s admonition that if she were wise she would “keep in” with Ellie, so she interlarded her sarcastic conversations with others of an uplifting sort, which were even more depressing. It was lowering indeed to be told that in a marriage of convenience one must not expect slavish devotion and billets doux, and no doubt Claymore would manage his love life very discreetly, so she need not worry about that.
Throughout this trying time Ellie had one other thought in her mind besides her husband-to-be. It had become a burning ambition of hers to see the Duchess of Everleigh, before she should be carried off by her husband to whichever of his country seats he decided to visit for the summer. When riding in the park or shopping on Bond Street, she always kept an eye out for a beautiful blonde, and would make a casual reference to every one that passed, in the hope that the young lady’s identity would be mentioned. Her vigilance was finally rewarded, though she didn’t have to be told. She knew, sensed somehow, that she was in the presence of her predecessor before anyone told her.
A young lady of exquisite beauty was seen once being driven past in a dashing high-perch phaeton. She wore a blue suit and a very charming hat with a golden rose adorning its side. Ellie stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
“What is it, my dear?” Joan had said. Ellie was with Lady Siderow at the time, strolling down Bond Street. Joan followed the line of her sister’s glance and said, “Oh, it’s the Golden Rose. This is your first glimpse of her, I collect? Grand, isn’t she?”
The phaeton shot past, and Ellie gathered her wits to reply. “Yes, she is lovely.” It was a foolishly inadequate answer, for the lady’s beauty far surpassed any words that occurred to Elinor. Her heart sank in her bosom. Anyone who had loved that vision of loveliness, as Claymore had, could not possibly find herself the least bit attractive.
“It is nothing to fret about now. She is safely married, and there is no point worrying she will be dangling after Clay, for Everleigh won’t allow any such a thing, you know. He is strict as may be with her. They say he is a demon of jealousy. I bet Miss Golden—the Duchess, I should say—rues the day she ever accepted him. Though in honesty, I must say she gives every appearance of liking him. Well, she was a child, and needed a firm hand.”
“I bet Clay rues the day she accepted him, too,” Elinor was shocked into admitting.
“No, Ellie, what are you thinking of to say such a thing? That is all done and past. Everyone was dangling after the Rose last Season, and you must not take it amiss that Clay did what every other eligible gentleman was doing.”
“But they didn’t all offer for her.”
“True, but I’ll wager she received upwards of a dozen offers. A diamond of the first water, of course.”
It was, however, only one of those offers that concerned the worried bride-elect. “Now that I have seen her, I am more curious than ever why Clay offered for me.”
“He would not have done so had he not wished to marry you, and he would not have wished to marry you if he hadn’t been mightily pleased with you, goose, so do set your mind at rest.”
“She is very beautiful, isn’t she? Even more beautiful than Wanda.”
“Yes, and rather like our beloved sister in that she is acutely aware of her manifold charms. Has Wanda been putting these ideas into your head? You must know, Ellie, she is green with envy at your match, and you should not be discomposed by what she may choose to say. It is all spite.”
“No, that’s not what bothers me. It is only that what Wanda says is so very true. He did offer for Miss Golden, and he did dangle after Wanda when first he came to see us, and I cannot but wonder if he regrets his offer to me. He—he doesn’t write much to me, you know, and not at all the sort of thing George writes to Wanda.”
“Would you think better of him if he wrote such slop? As to Wanda’s regaling us all with his private correspondence ...”
“Well, I would never do that, Joan. Only I must confess, I do find his notes rather cold, and he didn’t send me the engagement ring either, which looks as though he has forgotten all about it.”
“Or hawked it, poor soul. You know the shocking settlement Papa extracted from him. I should think that would set your mind at rest if nothing else did.”
“No, that bothers me more than anything. I cannot think why Papa did it.”
“Why, to make very sure that your Marquis loved you. Now that we have ascertained that, let us step into this shop and see if we find some rose velvet ribbons to match that sprigged muslin gown you are getting made up.”
In this manner Joan tried to calm her young sister’s agitated nerves. However, it was not the first time Ellie had spoken to her in this vein, and she was becoming upset herself. Neither the Marquis’ title nor his fortune was sufficient to counterbalance a lack of affection. If he did not sincerely love Ellie, then she could not approve the match. Having married for love herself and been totally happy, she did not wish to see her young sister make ever so grand a match without warm affection. That Ellie loved her young man was not in doubt; she mooned around and her only worry was that he did not return her feelings... Well, time would tell. Even if Claymore put off his appearance till the very morning of the wedding, Joan meant to have a good go at him and determine his feelings before the wedding went forward.
She had not to wait quite that long. At the end of the third week, one week before the nuptials were to be celebrated, he appeared in town, and immediately presented himself in Lady Siderow’s saloon to see his bride. His eager countenance and nervous fidgeting went a long way toward winning Lady Siderow’s approval; his first words nearly secured it. “Is she here?” he asked. “She”—very good! There was only one “she” in his mind. Even his lack of polish in not first saying “How do you do?” to the hostess was a welcome sign. One did not like to see a bridegroom too composed.
“She will be here presently,” he was informed. “She has been gone upwards of an hour for a drive in the park, and is not usually gone much longer. I am happy you have finally come.”
“I should have liked to be here sooner, but there were many affairs to attend to, you know.”
She correctly read into this a reference to the settlement. “Yes, indeed.” Condolences were offered on the sister’s miscarriage and a mutual agreement voiced that it was no reason to delay the marriage when it was all set. The Dowager’s absence at the wedding was confirmed—she could not leave Alice yet. Joan privately thought this no bad thing as the woman was a bit of a Turk. She had given Ellie some little idea of Clay’s mother, and she assumed others had done likewise, as Ellie appeared to have developed a positive dread of meeting her. Wine was offered, and within minutes of its presentation, footsteps were heard at the door, and Elinor came burs
ting into the room.
“Is that not Claymore’s carriage outside?” she shouted. Spotting him, she ran right into his arms, which were outstretched to receive her, as he had arisen upon her tumultuous entry. Before the shocked but approving eyes of her mother and sister, she was folded within his arms, and his dark head went down to hers. Mother and elder daughter exchanged meaningful glances and tactfully retired.
Lady Siderow felt her fears had been allayed, and decided against tackling Claymore on the state of his affections. She was not blind, after all.
“UPON MY WORD, JOAN, I THINK HE LIKES HER,” MRS. WANDERLEY SAID, WIDE-EYED.
“Do you indeed, Mama?” She laughed. “And I think he gives every appearance of a young man in love.”
“Yes, but it is the oddest thing, for I can’t imagine when it happened. He did not love her in the least at home. When can it have come about?”
“You have allowed Wanda to mislead you.”
“Oh dear, she won’t like it.”
“Tant pis!” Joan replied airily, which won a frown from her mama, who had not gone beyond merci and bonjour, in her studies of the French language.
When they discovered themselves to be alone, the young lovers fell suddenly ill at ease, and pulled apart with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what you must think of me, acting so,” Ellie said,
“Well, I think you are not so shy as I have been led to believe,” he replied in a bantering tone. He took her hand and led her to the sofa he had just vacated. “I have been wanting to come sooner, Ellie.”
“I know you have been busy,” she rushed in, ready to exculpate him.
“There were a devil of a lot of things to see to.”
“It was that horrid settlement, wasn’t it?”
“That among other things.”
“I have been busy, too, with all my clothes to get made up, and such a lot of people calling.”
“Getting your hair done, too, I see,” he said, flicking a curl with one finger. “You are looking very elegant. Going to take the shine out of Wanda. Is she here?” It was a thoughtless comment, uttered to bridge the tension of their first moments together, but Ellie mistrusted it
“Yes, but she is out with Lady Tameson today.”
“That’s good,” he said calmly, restoring his bride to high spirits.
“We have had dozens of callers,” she said, and thrilled him with the recitation of such names as she could remember. Midway through her list he interrupted.
“I daresay you are wondering why I haven’t sent your engagement ring.”
“No, not in the least. That is, Wanda said, very likely ... but I was sure you would not like to entrust it to a messenger, and would bring it yourself.”
He pulled a dark green box from his pocket, while Ellie prepared to feast her eyes on the radiance of twenty carats, for so rumor had it was the size of the Claymore diamond. Her face fell visibly when her eyes were called on for the viewing of no more than a rather ordinary pearl, set in a flower fashioned of gold lumps. “It—it’s very nice,” she said, frowning. He had given it to Miss Golden!
“This is not your engagement ring, of course,” he rushed in to explain the seeming jest. “The stupidest thing, Ellie. I let Mama get away to Dorset without discovering exactly where she is keeping the heirlooms. I ransacked the house, but couldn’t discover them anywhere.”
“Do you not keep them in a vault?”
“Yes, usually, but they were not there,” he admitted sheepishly. “There is a larger diamond ring I am sure you will like, or an emerald if you prefer. . . .”
All very grand, but what he was holding out to her in his hand was a pearl and no very large one either. “You forgot,” she said. It was not precisely an accusation, more of a reassurance to herself that the diamond was in fact at his home in Somerset, and not residing in the Duchess of Everleigh’s bibelot box.
To add to the vexing problem, Claymore could only explain away his own seeming forgetfulness by asserting that his mother would not let him have any of his own rings. “I didn’t forget exactly,” he said, still holding his mother’s birthday ring, which his fiancée was making no motion of accepting. He removed it from the box and shoved it onto Ellie’s third finger. “This is just to let everyone know you are taken.” He smiled with what he hoped to pass off as ardor, though it was nine-tenths pure embarrassment
Ellie looked at the little ring with sinking spirits. So Wanda was right. He had forgotten all about her, all that time he was in Somerset. Had never once thought she might like to have an engagement ring to wear during the two weeks when his mother was home. She knew that if it had been the Rose who was to receive the offering, it would be the diamond, and not this little trinket She cringed to let Wanda and all her relatives see the pearl, when they had been discussing a diamond of twenty carats for three weeks. It was a symbol of his lack of heart, of interest in this marriage. A little sigh escaped her. Claymore had had grave misgivings about producing the absurd thing at all, and soon came to the conclusion it had been a gross error.
“I daresay you are thinking of Wanda’s diamond,” he began tentatively. “Yours will be bigger, you know, when you get it.”
She nodded and attempted a smile, which was such a travesty that she had done better not to make the attempt. Was it possible, Clay wondered, that it was the ring she had been so eagerly awaiting, and not himself. He willed down a spurt of anger, and began discussing social trifles. Had so-and-so left town? And had she said the FitzHughes had been to call, or was it the FitzWilliams? Their first meeting, begun so auspiciously, sank into a mere chitchat. After half an hour the Marquis arose and took his leave.
Immediately she had left the saloon where Ellie was entertaining Clay, Joan had sent a note to Tamesons that bore no mention of his arrival, but suggested that Wanda remain there for dinner. Wanda was not reluctant, as she always got on better with Caroline than Joan. So when Claymore returned to Grosvenor Square to dine at seven-thirty, it was only the Siderows, Mrs. Wanderley, and Elinor who sat down with him.
Siderow, who was a diplomat by vocation as well as by nature, soon had the table agreeably discussing social nothings, the only topic in which his mother-in-law might take an interest. The lack of vivacity between the lovers was put down to Ellie’s well-known shyness, and the meal was considered a success.
After taking their port, the gentlemen rejoined the ladies for tea, and after a discreet interval, the older members of the party discovered they had each a pressing matter to attend elsewhere, thus affording the younger some unwanted privacy.
“I can’t stay long,” were Claymore’s first unpromising words, which were met with a worried frown. Ellie became every moment surer he did not care for her in the least. “I want to get to Claymore House, you know, and get the servants to set it to rights. I am hoping you will come with me tomorrow and inspect it.”
“I should like to,” she answered stiffly.
That would put her back in high gig. His London residence was considered one of the city’s finest. She would see she was not making such a bad bargain after all. “You may care to make some changes, I daresay. Mama has not been in the habit of coming to town the past few years, and it is in the way of becoming a bachelor’s home.”
“Joan tells me it is very fine. I doubt I will want to change much.”
“It will have to be in the afternoon. I’ll have to see my man of business in the morning.” And try if I can’t wring some money out of him for a curst diamond ring, since that is what is putting you in a pucker, he thought, but naturally did not say.
“The afternoon will be fine. Wanda and I planned to go shopping in the morning. She is collecting her things, too, you recall.”
He nodded in recognition of this startling intelligence, and then silence descended like a pall over the room. Claymore regarded his thumbs, which had taken to whirling round each other in a most nervous fashion. Gathering his courage, he said, “Ellie, I’m sorry about the blasted ring!”
“It—that’s all right,” she said.
“If I had realized how much it meant to you, I would have ...” Rung Mama’s neck, he thought, but again kept it to himself.
“Oh, Clay, it’s not the ring” she said, her voice trembling on the verge of tears at what she wanted to say.
“What is it, then?” he asked, nudging nearer to her on the sofa, and laying one arm along its back, behind her shoulders. “I know something is bothering you, and I wish you would tell me. Wanda been ragging at you?”
“No. Well yes, that, too, but that’s not what ... what troubles me.”
“What is it, Ellie?” he asked gently, in a coaxing tone, while he let his arm slip from sofa to shoulders.
“You were away such a long time, and I hardly know you. I thought we would have longer to become acquainted.”
Claymore relaxed, feeling the tense nerves of his body ease, and a warm urge to reassure his bashful bride arose. “I came as soon as I could. We have a week, Ellie, and a lifetime after that For myself, I know you are exactly the girl I want.”
“Yes, but are you sure? I cannot think—”
He silenced her doubts by covering her moving lips with his own.
Lady Siderow, passing by the door and stopping to put her ear to it, was assured by the silence within that things were proceeding exactly as they ought to be. As duenna, she could not leave them too long alone, so she made a great racket with the handle before entering, and gave them sufficient time to compose themselves, but not time enough to remove the stars from their eyes.
Claymore soon took his leave, and when she was alone with Ellie, Joan said, “Well now, are all your little doubts set at rest?”
“Oh yes,” her sister sighed happily. “Now I am quite at ease and can listen to Wanda rant on all day, for he is here, and I know he loves me.”
“Yes, and so do we all know it. He never looked more moonstruck, even when he used to tag along after the Rose.” It was meant as a joke, but Ellie immediately took alarm.
