Maid of Honor

by Stephanie Lilley

  She danced each dance, gliding with Buck, hopping with Henry, twirling with others. Katie took part in a few dances then retired to the wall with her friends, Lady Ribbesdale and Miss Totheringham, fanning herself rather vigorously. It was getting warm, Alianora noticed, but she worried about Katie's health. She asked Katie if perhaps they should leave.

  "No, no. I am very well, I assure you. I would not miss this ball for the world."

  Alianora wondered a little at her insistence on the ball's importance but agreed to remain.

  "As long as you are all right, dear sister," she said. "Tell me the moment you wish to leave, please, even if I am on the floor."

  Katie waved her fan and smiled brightly as Alianora's next partner arrived.

  "My lady," said Lord Cerestone with a bow.

  They moved in among the waltzing couples, whirling in a way that made Alianora feel light and breathless.

  "Have you lost some of your nervousness, my lady?" he asked, smiling down at her.

  "A little, my lord, although I have never enjoyed crowds."

  "It is too bad that we will not be ending the evening with a song as you do at Grassmere."

  Her eyes grew a little distant. "There is no place for it here."

  "I believe you are right. Fanny has missed you."

  "How is she? I have not seen her for two days."

  "Much improved," he sighed. "She worries greatly about her friends in the park."

  "Ah, Lady Black and progeny. Yes, I saw them this morning swimming merrily in the lake. I believe they miss her, too." She looked away toward Katie and saw instead Lord Savernake prowling along the edge of the dance floor. She stiffened involuntarily.

  Following her gaze, Lord Cerestone said, "He shall not hurt you as long as I am here." He frowned. "Unfortunately, he has befriended my cousin, Cressida, who insisted he be invited."

  She tried to mask her unhappiness, but the evening had suddenly gone flat and sour.

  Sensitive to her nuances, Cerestone wished she would confide in him, and asked her what was wrong.

  "There is no need to worry, my lord. I am simply concerned for my sister-in-law who has not been particularly well these two weeks."

  He took a deep breath and said no more. Alianora knew he did not believe her, but she would not risk her friend in a duel. She had already made up her mind anyway.

  The music stopped. As it was the supper dance, the viscount led her into a dining room filled with small tables. Buck and Georgina joined them as did Henry and Lady Morfey, a widow from Ireland who was rather well known for her fine Andalusian horses.

  Cerestone introduced her to Cressida's older sister, Jane Finsbury, and left them together while he fetched some refreshments for them.

  "I have wanted to meet you for some time," Jane confessed with a shy smile, "although I was not certain who you were. Cousin Peter says you are remarkable. We must speak sometime so that I may come to know you." She rose. "I must return to my mother right now for she has another young man to introduce. She does not know I am already engaged," she whispered, putting a finger to her lips. She rose after inviting Alianora to call and threaded her way across the room.

  A little amazed, Alianora looked after her. She sensed that Jane Finsbury would make a good friend. Miss Finsbury obviously cared for Lord Cerestone and that immediately put her in Alianora's good books. She listened a moment as Buck spoke with Georgina, while Georgina gazed up at The Walking Stick with admiration. Henry spoke to Lady Morfey with enthusiasm about his estates. And she listened, nodding, interjecting her own observations. Alianora sighed, wishing she might simply enjoy the evening, a young girl in her first Season who had only to think of finding a husband—even that would be preferable to her worries now.

  Not far away, to her right, sat Lord Savernake speaking with Cressida Finsbury, both of them turning at intervals to stare at her. She felt her head begin to throb, an ache behind the eyes that only sleep seemed to cure. Sleep and her mother's tisane. She thought of Grassmere and she suddenly wanted to cry, wanted to go home to her father's world, her willows by the pond, to Belisande and Geoffrey, away from the crowds and confusion of London. But it would be cowardly to run away now. She breathed in deeply, slowly. Life was not fair. One must recognize the fact and make the best of it. By the time Lord Cerestone returned, she was almost herself again.

  "A little of everything," he told her, setting the plate before her and sitting down. "I know that young ladies must appear to eat nothing and that is why so many of them faint—gracefully, of course."

  "You need not fear for me, my lord. I was raised to eat properly and well." But her actions belied her words, for she merely pushed the food about with her fork. She was thinking of Miss Finsbury's words, that "Cousin Peter says you are remarkable." She knew he cared for her, but did he—? Was he—? She couldn't finish the question, not with Lord Savernake stalking her like a panther. It would, take some time alone to sort out her own feelings.

  "The smoked salmon is particularly good," Lord Cerestone remarked. "Don't you care for it?"

  "Oh yes, I do like salmon, but I fear I have a headache coming on. Quite predictable, unfortunately, whenever I am in a crowd."

  "Would fresh air be of any help? We have a fine garden and the moon is out," he offered.

  "Sometimes it helps," she admitted.

  "Then come." He stood up, and she took his arm. Neither noticed that others observed their departure.

  They walked out onto the terrace and Alianora was amazed at how bright the night was, moonlight illuminating the statues and shrubbery and the elaborate marble fountain. The flagstones were cool beneath her slippers, the grass soft and damp.

  "It is lovely," she sighed. "I imagine Fanny enjoys sitting here."

  "Whenever it is sunny," he agreed.

  "I smell roses and another flower, hyacinths, I believe," she said.

  They interrupted a couple in mid-embrace, who then ran off, laughing, into the dark. The viscount shook his head.

  "It is spring," he observed. "When the heart is light and ripe for love."

  "A target for Eros," she said with a smile.

  "And arrows."

  "And bows," she said.

  "And beaus," he countered.

  They continued walking among trimmed shrubbery and beneath several trees. It was not quiet, but the two no longer heard the noise of the crowd or the music. They were wrapped in the moonlight, and the spring air. Silence was a comfortable thing between them and it surprised Peter. He led her to a bench and they sat down, watching the fountain.

  "I believe my headache is better," Alianora sighed. "Truly, only sleep rids me of it completely."

  "Then it will be gone tomorrow," he said pleasantly. "Alianora," he said, then added, "may I call you Alianora?" She assented. He started to say something, hesitated, then went on. "In the world of your father, that re-creation of the age of chivalry, a knight pledges all manner of odd things for the lady of his heart. He might vow never to eat meat or drink mead, might vow to wear a glove forever or speak only in whispers."

  "Courtly love." She nodded as the moonlight burnished her hair. She smiled, a little puzzled at his words.

  Once having made up his mind, Lord Cerestone continued, "Courtly love is not possible between those who are wedded."

  "By tradition, no, my lord."

  "Peter."

  "Peter," she said softly.

  The words did not come easily to Cerestone. "When I came to town, I came convinced that I would return to Woodhurst unchanged and continue my studies, ad infinitum most probably." He took her hand in his, her smooth, slender musician's fingers cool and relaxed. "But before I even reached the city, I met you—a medieval maiden of grace and beauty with a voice that can charm a hawk.

  "I thought that courtly love would be enough," he continued as she sat very still. He looked at the moon then at her. "I thought it would be enough to admire, to treat courteously, even to rescue the fair maiden, but it is not enough.
I find I need you as I need to breathe, that I love you far more than my studies or my solitude." He smiled, his hands cold. "This is sudden, I realize, and you see in me a friend, but I wish to be more. Please, Alianora, allow me to speak to your father."

  She closed her eyes as he rubbed his thumb along her cheek, raised her hand to his lips, then turned that hand to kiss the palm.

  "An eloquent silence," he said lightly.

  She was stunned, realizing that this was precisely what she wanted, precisely the way she wished to spend the rest of her life—beside the viscount as his wife. She did not need time to think through her confusion. She knew. She loved him, needed him as she needed to breathe. And yet, she must refuse. How could she look into that beloved face that looked on her with such vulnerability and tell him she could not be that life's breath for him?

  "It is too sudden," he said sympathetically and she nodded, taking the coward's way out. "Then I shall wait—" They were interrupted.

  "Peter," called Cressida Finsbury, and when she came upon them she had a nasty glare for Alianora and a pretty smile for her cousin. "Aunt Susan has suddenly become indisposed. We need you quite urgently."

  The viscount sighed, a sigh from the heart. Too much sherry again. He turned to Alianora. "Shall we go inside?"

  She shook her head. "I need a few moments alone."

  He nodded, glancing around, as if to slay every dragon of darkness before leaving her. He saw nothing.

  "I shall look for you when I am finished," he said, kissing her hand once more. She refused to meet his eyes.

  Then she was alone, wrapped in the moonlight, but it was no longer peaceful. It was frightening.

  Without Lord Cerestone beside her every shadow took on a nightmarish aspect. She could never have imagined this horrible end to her Season—turning away the man she loved, accepting a man she loathed. But she was strong; Percy was weak. Had she been raised differently, sent away to school, isolated from her parents, had they not been so loving, she might have found it simple to turn away from her brother.

  She thought of Percy as a child: how he had bravely entered the river and saved her from drowning, she having foolishly entered an old, leaky boat intending to sail about Old Grassmere. He had not even known how to swim! Their rides together on Geoffrey, bareback, barefoot, kicking in the careless way of children to urge the old plowhorse to a faster pace—she remembered them well. The fishing expeditions, the summer days of playing knights and ladies at the castle ruins—what had happened to him? Was it the city? Katie seemed unwell here, Percy had succumbed to terrible temptation, and she was miserable.

  "I see that you await me," said a silky voice. She slowly raised her eyes. Yes, it was he, the nightmarish vision come to life. "Lord Savernake," she said coldly. He sat down beside her. "You should call me Richard, after all. I assume you have decided on the sensible course."

  Was this a proposal of marriage? It was disgusting, especially after the viscount's eloquent and loving words.

  "You will marry me," he said. It was not even a question.

  "Yes," she answered through clenched teeth.

  "Well, then, that is done at last."

  "With one condition," she added. "That I may see Percy." Savernake laughed shortly. "That is impossible at the moment. He would be arrested on sight. Perhaps I might arrange for him to come in disguise. It will take some time to settle his debts, you realize, my love."

  She winced at the endearment. "I will not stand before the altar until I have seen him."

  He sighed. "Yes, certainly, something may be arranged. Now, I believe we might seal our engagement with a kiss."

  What could she do but submit? She had already given him permission by agreeing to their engagement. He was not rough but greedy, smothering her with his lips, letting his hands roam. Finally, she could stand it no longer and began to fight him. And then, suddenly, he was gone.

  "I will kill you for that, Savernake." It was Lord Cerestone!

  Savernake, on the grass, stroked his jaw. He got to his feet, face twisted in anger, then, slowly, he managed to smile.

  "I think not, Cerestone." He looked at Alianora. "After all, I have the right."

  The viscount looked at Alianora. "What is he saying?"

  "I am saying that she has consented to be my wife."

  "No!" cried Cerestone hoarsely.

  "Tell him, my love," Savernake ordered.

  "Is it true? It cannot be."

  "It is true," she said in a dead voice, unable to meet his eyes.

  "Then he has forced you. Tell me what he has done and I will help you. Please, Alianora."

  She couldn't bear his pain. She couldn't bear her own. To cut swiftly and cleanly was the only way.

  "He has not forced me. I have chosen of my own free will," she told him.

  "There you see, Cerestone," said Savernake, triumph in his voice. "Why, I do believe I have had my revenge on you! Imagine, so simple, and only a bruised jaw to show for it."

  "Yes, you have your revenge," Cerestone said, his eyes turning from bleak to cold. "I cannot believe I could be so mistaken. You must think me a fool, my lady. I wish you joy of each other." He turned and walked swifly back into the ballroom.

  "No!" Alianora cried softly and stood up. "Peter!"

  Savernake was immediately beside her, his arm about her waist. "Remember your brother, my dear," he whispered.

  "I hate you." The words were wrenched from her, words she’d never said to anyone in her whole life.

  He looked surprised. "My, this is going to be an interesting relationship, isn't it?"

  She pushed him away, and left him laughing in the garden.

  Chapter Nine

  When Alianora entered the ballroom, Miss Totheringham greeted her with the news that Katie, had fainted, although she was now awake and able to return home. Alianora was happy to leave immediately. Of Lord Cerestone she saw nothing.

  The next few days she stayed close to her sister-in-law. The doctor came and went, pronounced her well except for simple exhaustion. Katie seemed to improve after the doctor's visit, indeed, appeared to, bloom. That at least eased one of Alianora's worries. She had heard nothing from Lord Savernake and, worried every day that she would hear of Percy in jail despite her agreement.

  More time passed and she began to lose weight, finding herself unable to sleep. A note arrived the next week from Fanny Everhurst, written in a tiny, childish hand, requesting the honor of her presence at the Serpentine the following morning. Sitting by a sunny window in the drawing room, she reread the note, wondering if she should go. Would Lord Cerestone object? The thought of him sent such spasms of pain through her that she considered declining the invitation. She sighed. That would not be fair to Fanny, however. Her psaltery had lain idle all this time; perhaps it would improve her spirits to continue teaching Lord Cerestone's little sister. She wrote a note of acceptance to send later.

  "Here, lamby," said Mrs. Bowman, setting down a butler's table laden with biscuits, cakes, and pastries. Placing several on a dish, she offered them to Alianora. "This will perk up your spirits. And a nice dish of tea."

  Alianora smiled briefly. "Thank you, Mrs. Bowman, but I—"

  "Now, now, don't refuse! You've become far too thin as it is. Why, one great gust of wind and off you'd go!"

  "Perhaps a macaroon or two," Alianora allowed with a little laugh.

  "Indeed, Alia, you seem greatly troubled," Katie observed from a comfortable armchair. A tambour frame lay in her lap. "I know you are not happy in London."

  "No," Alianora admitted. "But I know I shall be returning to Grassmere in less than a month's time."

  "We may leave sooner, if you wish, of course,” Katie offered. "William will be here in a fortnight."

  A fortnight! How swiftly time moved when one wished it to stand still. She had no desire to face her elder brother.

  "And you have not seen Lord Cerestone since the ball," Katie mused. "Has that anything to do with your sad mood?"
>
  It had far too much to do with her mood, but she was beyond tears now. There was only a numb ache.

  A footman appeared in the doorway and announced Lord Savernake below. "Requesting Lady Alianora," he told them.

  "Heathen," muttered Mrs. Bowman around her biscuit.

  "No, Freddy, have Shoop send him away. The nerve, really," said Katie.

  Alianora stood wearily. "No, Freddy. I will come below."

  Mrs. Bowman and Katie stared at her, then at each other.

  "But you will be disobeying William's express wishes," Katie objected.

  "William is neither my father nor my guardian," Alianora told her quietly as she followed the footman downstairs, leaving an astonished Katie behind her.

  Lord Savernake was in the Blue Saloon, standing at the Window. He was dressed in a fine blue coat with large silver buttons and yellow pantaloons, carrying an elegant walking stick. Women appeared to find him handsome, but she could not.

  "You have some news, my lord," she greeted.

  He smiled, coming toward her. "I thought we had agreed on Christian names, my lady."

  "As you will, Richard."

  He took her hand, turning it over to place a kiss on the wrist then the palm. "Yes, your brother is well and sends his love and gratitude. There is, however, the small matter of money. A nasty subject to approach so early in the afternoon. I have spoken with those holding his vowels. Many are quite anxious to be paid."

  "I have no money at hand," she told him. She did not know or understand how these things were handled. "Will my jewels suffice? You are free to ask what you wish for them. Or use them as payment."

  “It will be a beginning."