Maid of Honor

by Stephanie Lilley

  She left him and walked up to her room, taking her pearl necklace, a gold filigree necklace with diamond chips, matching earrings, and several other pieces from her jewelry chest, including the sapphires. She gave them all to him.

  "As I said, merely a beginning,” he said. “There is now the small matter of our wedding. I wish it to be as soon as possible. I will take it upon myself to send a notice to the Gazette and obtain the special license."

  She sucked in her breath. That made it seem more horrifyingly real—the thought that others would now know. She had not had the heart or nerve to tell Katie and she quailed at the thought of what William would do. Surely he would allow her to return to Grassmere—? And Lord Cerestone. She had hurt him so badly that he would never forgive her.

  "When may I see my brother?" she asked, her face impassive.

  "When the bailiffs are no longer interested in him, of course. There is a masked ball Thursday next, given by Mrs. Blackworth, a particular friend of mine. If you choose to attend you may see your beloved brother there in disguise. I should be happy to escort you, of course."

  "Yes, if that is what I must do."

  "I shall then procure a special license for the following day."

  So soon! She could be married before William arrived! That could not be.

  "Since this will be my only wedding, I wish for some family by me,” she told him. "And it is so little time to prepare a trousseau.”

  "You need bring only your portion with you," he said with a little sigh of frustration, taking his curly brimmed beaver from a table and placing it on his head. "And your lovely self, naturally."

  "And you agree that I may remain at Grassmere.”

  "Certainly. And I shall be here. A perfect arrangement. Of course"—he flicked her chin with gloved finger—"I shall expect to visit my fair maiden from time to time, to remind her that she is married."

  "I shall never forget that," she said bitterly.

  He laughed. "Ah, life. I believe I feel like singing. Yes, and we must make another appearance together, in the park, quite soon. Perhaps attend a ball or two. Good day."

  For a long moment she stood without moving then slowly collapsed into a chair. She seemed to have a continuous headache these days.

  Alianora apologized to Katie, who said she would accept it only if Alianora agreed to attend the Shelbys' musical soiree with her that evening.

  Katie smiled. "I cannot tell you how many have asked about you. You see, some word of your talent has preceded you. Come, Alia. I know you always feel better after you sing."

  Alianora could not deny it.

  "And perhaps Lord Cerestone will attend. I truly believe he is quite smitten with you."

  Again Alianora remained silent. She sighed, acceding to Katie's wishes, recognizing that Katie was determined to steer her from Lord Savernake.

  Dressed in an apricot crepe gown, its square neck edged with a ruffle of gold lace, Alianora entered the Shelbys' large drawing room behind Katie. She was introduced to the hostess, who was happy to welcome another performer. Already a number of guests were standing about, talking; some turned to stare openly at Alianora. In response, she slipped behind a potted palm and closed her eyes, clutching the velvet-covered psaltery to her chest. A footman passed by and offered to relieve her of the instrument, but she refused emphatically. From her hiding place she could see a dais on which were placed a pianoforte and a harp. She closed her eyes again, wishing it would all be gone when she opened them.

  "Come, Alia," Katie said, startling her. "Take my arm and you'll feel more comfortable."

  Alianora opened her eyes. It was all still there. Coward, she thought. This behavior is unworthy of the earl's daughter. You must face your dragons, even if they are only social ones. Selfish, she scolded herself, looking at her sister-in-law. Katie asked such a little thing to make her happy.

  "Do not worry, my dear," her sister-in-law said as she led Alianora toward the rows of seats, "you will not be the first on the dais. I believe there are several harpists, and several singers, including one who is said to be second only to the great Catalani."

  They were stopped by a number of Katie's friends, who all expressed a desire to hear Lady Alianora sing, looking pointedly at her purple burden. As the friends spoke, Alianora absently scanned the crowd, relaxing only when she caught no sight of Lord Cerestone. He would be more interested in lectures than music.

  The hostess rapped for attention and all guests began taking their seats.

  "Alia," Katie whispered as they sat down, "you have no jewelry on. I only just noticed. Your black pearls would have done nicely with that gown."

  Alianora froze. Her pearls were most likely in the hands of a pawnbroker by now. She finally said in a small voice that she had forgotten to put them on.

  Katie took the blame. "It is my fault. I should have seen it earlier." Her words fed Alianora's guilt. "Never mind. It will be overlooked when they have heard you sing."

  Mrs. Shelby introduced the special guest, Mrs. Lamentini, a robust woman draped in blue spangled cloth. She began to sing. Alianora found herself fascinated by the performance of her headdress—the numerous feathers danced, fluttered, and took flight with the force of her singing. Everyone applauded politely when she finished.

  There followed one nervous young performer after another. The harp was stiffly plucked, the pianoforte rigidly played, popular tunes sung in tight voices. Alianora hoped that her hostess had forgotten her, but it was not to be. Mrs. Shelby called her to the dais, introducing her as an unusual performer.

  A sort of sighing sound followed her and she realized that there were a hundred mouths whispering "Fair maid."

  Her hands shook as she unwrapped the psaltery. Katie smiled from amidst the faces, giving her courage to continue. She sat down and listened to the strings, which were ever in need of tuning, aware that the room had grown silent. One song, she told herself, and she would escape to Katie's side. She closed her eyes, played the introductory chords, and began to sing, imagining herself alone beneath her willows at Grassmere.

  For a moment, when she had finished, no one clapped. Then someone in the back began and the applause rippled forward. Alianora looked up to see Lord Cerestone standing in the far doorway, and she could not move. Mrs. Shelby appeared and announced refreshments in the library. Everyone was happy to move and stretch. Several people praised her performance but then turned away, saying that it was the oddest song, as if Alianora were suddenly deaf.

  Quickly wrapping her instrument, she left the dais and looked about for Katie. But her sister-in-law seemed to have disappeared in the crush. She took refuge behind another screen of palms. Several women strolled by, one commenting, "Lovely voice. Why does she not learn to play the harp?" Another added, "It is the least one might expect from such an eccentric sire," while a third said, "How she expects to find a husband—" There was a ladylike snort. "—no one could find such an antidote attractive."

  The voices faded, leaving Alianora quivering with anger. She fought back tears, a resolve that lasted until a gentle hand touched her shoulder. When she looked up into Lord Cerestone's concerned face, a tear escaped. She brushed it away.

  "Jealous tabbies," he observed. "All with voices that might appeal to the tom of their species."

  Alianora smiled at that.

  "Better." He nodded. "Now it remains only for you to face them."

  The smile vanished. She looked toward the doorway. "I really do not belong here." By ‘here’ she meant London and the modern world.

  "Perhaps not," he agreed. "But not because you are unworthy—more because variety is not the spice of life among the ton."

  She moved. "I must find Katie."

  "Alianora." His voice held her back, caressing her with her own name.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. She would not let him speak of his sister's ball. "No!" she repeated, and he stepped back, frowning.

  Slipping past him, she hurried to the library, where she fou
nd Katie. She remained by her the entire evening, and away from the viscount.

  * * *

  Alianora wore a riding habit of Prussian blue, a small shako with a black feather, and York tan gloves as she set out for the park, the undergroom following behind with her psaltery. Her hair was braided and caught in a golden coil at the nape of her neck. The fringe of curls about her face blew softly, tickling her cheeks. From a distance Alianora, looked fresh and lovely, but a closer examination would reveal the hollows in her cheeks and the slight smudges beneath deep blue eyes.

  She entered the park, let Hypatia dance a little and trot for some time before turning to the path that would lead to the Serpentine. The sun shone and the air smelled of flowers and damp grass. Other riders passed her, several bowing in greeting, which she returned with a nod. She signaled the groom that she wished to dismount and was soon walking her horse to the water.

  Fanny sat in her wheelchair near the water's edge, lecturing the birds gathered before her as she tossed pieces of bread. Alianora recognized Lady Black with Miss Sygnette. There were two trumpeter swans and a flock of ducks competing for the bounty.

  Handing Hypatia to the groom, Alianora took her psaltery and joined Fanny.

  "Good morrow," she greeted with a smile.

  "Alianora!" Fanny cried, face alight.

  "I was so pleased to hear from you. How nice that you are well enough to visit your friends again. I must say they missed you."

  "I wish I might take them with me," Fanny said mournfully. "But Peter says we have enough fowl at Woodhurst and that the queen would not take kindly to losing her birds."

  "I would not worry too much, Fanny. Swans are remarkably clever. They know just what to eat and where to find it." Still, his name had the power to cause pain. She pushed it deeper inside. "I have brought my psaltery. Would you like to learn another song?"

  "Oh yes. That would be wonderful." She rearranged the shawls about her so that her arms might be free, arms that were still painfully thin.

  Alianora laid the instrument in her lap and pushed the chair to a stone bench in the sun. Fanny ran her small fingers over the wood, touching the inlay of mother-of-pearl.

  "Is it very old?" she asked.

  Alianora smiled as she sat down. "Yes, centuries. It belonged to the great-grandmother of my mother's grandfather." Fanny wrinkled her nose in confusion. "That would be a great-great-great-great-grandmother. She lived in the middle of the sixteenth century. Lady Edith Fancher. I am the first to play it since her time."

  "No one else was interested?" Fanny asked as if that were unimaginable. Fanny reverently touched the strings. "I love it."

  Alianora frowned a little and looked about. "Is Miss Tavisser after Bobbin once again?"

  "Oh, no. Tavvy is at home sick. I'm afraid she caught my cold. Peter is with me today. See? He is just over there throwing a stick for Hector."

  She saw him. Her stomach tightened and she felt a little faint for a moment. No! She could not react this way every time she met him. What might have been would now never be and she must accept that. She busied herself showing Fanny a new set of chords to pluck and the rhythm that accompanied the song.

  She therefore did not notice when Hector came to visit until that canine hero was licking her face, his forepaws on the bench, tail wagging furiously.

  "Down, Hector!" ordered Lord Cerestone. When the dog acted as if he were deaf, the viscount grasped the collar and pulled him away. "My apologies, my lady. He is as unmannerly as this brat here." His eyes were distant, as if he spoke to a relative stranger.

  "I am not a brat," Bobbin objected, marching up to Alianora. He bowed gracefully for a six-year-old and smiled. "I am a knight and I am curtyus to ladies and quite fearless."

  "I can see that," she told him.

  "We have been learning to be knights and ladies," Fanny told her. "Peter helped us."

  "I should like to joust," Bobbin announced. "Or cut off a dragon's head." He fit actions to words.

  "Dragons are rather hard to find these days," Alianora said.

  "I shall find one and chop it up and feed it to Hector." He looked quite fierce. At the mention of his name, the dog cocked his head. Alianora looked at him doubtfully.

  "Hector may not care for dragon. Do they not eat brimstone and breathe fire? I believe their insides must be quite charred and tasteless."

  Bobbin had not thought of this. Fanny giggled. Even Lord Cerestone smiled, warmth briefly lighting his green eyes.

  She looked up at him, admiring his severe face, the way the hair curled from under his hat, the graceful way he moved. She wanted to say something, say how sorry she was at the way things had come about, say how much she loved him. But she knew, instinctively, that he would no longer believe her. She was honor bound, honor tied, honor gagged.

  "Thank you, my lord, for allowing me to see Fanny," was what she did say.

  "I can deny Fanny nothing," he said. His eyes warmed again as he ruffled the brown hair. Fanny straightened it primly. "And she knows it well."

  "I have been learning a new song," Fanny told him. "Shall I play it for you?"

  "Yes, please do.'"

  Fanny did remarkably well for her first time through. The viscount turned to look out over the water. Alianora could not keep her eyes from him. This might be the last time they spoke, shared something together. Her memories would be like one brightly burning candle in an otherwise bleak existence. She would always remember him thus, handsome and kind, filled with love and humor. Fanny's fingers stumbled and stopped and they both looked at her in concern. She tried desperately to smother a yawn.

  "I see it is time to return to the house," her brother told her. He bent and took the psaltery from her and handed it to Alianora. "You have been most patient, my lady."

  "Will you come tomorrow, Alianora?" Fanny pleaded.

  Alianora looked at Lord Cerestone. He moved to the back of Fanny's chair.

  "You may need to rest tomorrow," he said.

  "On, no, Peter. I promise I shall be very good and rest today and not complain at all. Alianora is my friend, Peter."

  He looked at Alianora and for a brief moment pain shone in his eyes. He bent over Fanny. "Then if you are very good and the sun is shining you may come. And Lady Alianora may see you."

  They said their farewells, as if everything were quite normal and rational. She watched them until the two children, the man, and the gamboling dog were out of sight.

  Did he truly believe she would choose to hurt him? Perhaps he did, she thought sadly, given what she had done to him.

  An invitation to tea lay on a salver when she returned to Katie's. Jane Finsbury. She sighed. Assaulted by one of Lord Cerestone's relatives after another, all kindly meant, of course, which would make it difficult to refuse.

  "Oh, Jane Finsbury," said Katie, looking over Alianora's shoulder. "She is so remarkably different from her sister, Cressida. I quite like her."

  "Yes, Miss Finsbury is nice," Alianora agreed. "She has invited me to tea tomorrow."

  Katie tilted her head in thought as she sat down. "I shall be with Charlotte tomorrow. Yes, you must go for you have been far too reclusive lately. It would do you good to visit Miss Finsbury. She is so comfortable."

  Comfortable for anyone else, perhaps, but decidedly uncomfortable for Alianora. Miss Finsbury would speak delightedly of Lord Cerestone as she had at the ball, cutting Alianora to the quick with every word.

  Her mouth twisted wryly. She might make the excuse that she simply must shop for her wedding or for the costume ball she would attend secretly with Lord Savernake. Stupid thoughts, she told herself.

  "I shall send her my acceptance," she told Katie with only a hint of resignation in her voice.

  Miss Finsbury greeted her with a smile when she arrived and invited her to sit while she rang for the tea tray. Alianora looked about the room. Everywhere it was yellow—furniture upholstered in yellow and black striped satin, the wallpaper flocked with yellow pineapples, the
draperies of gold brocade, a rug of ivory, blue, and red.

  "Yes." Miss Finsbury laughed. "This is the Yellow Saloon."

  "It is quite pretty."

  "Overwhelming at first, but one ceases to notice it after a while." The tea tray arrived and Miss Finsbury poured from a silver urn, begging that they might be on a Christian name basis. Alianora agreed.

  "I wanted to invite you here directly after the ball but did not wish to be a pest," she told Alianora, smiling kindly. "Or, at worst, be seen as a meddling matchmaker."

  Smiling, Alianora braced herself.

  "Peter has told me something of his visit to Grassmere. It sounds quite fascinating. A medieval tournament! How interesting it must have been to be raised in such surroundings."

  Alianora admitted that she had rather taken it for granted.

  "I suppose one would if that is all one knows. I am certain I took our home for granted and all the visits to Woodhurst each summer and Christmas. London must seem more than strange to you. I still find it quite bizarre."

  "It would take some time to become accustomed to it," Alianora said quietly.

  "How is Mrs. Cheney doing? Has she continued to improve since the ball?"

  Alianora nodded. "Yes. The doctor simply ordered her to be less dissipated and rest more often. She tries to lie down each afternoon."

  "Then it is nothing serious. Good."

  Alianora shook her head.

  "And you? How have you been lately? I do not mean to pry, but I see the same sad look on your face that I have seen on Peter's. I had hoped that I might be calling you cousin-in-law quite soon. There." She nodded. "That is remarkably forward of me, but I truly mean it. Peter's eyes just seemed to shine whenever you were about and when he spoke of you, why, I could only wish my Andrew might say such lovely things of me!"

  Alianora looked down at her teacup.

  "You did not, of course, know Peter as a child," Jane continued. "He was always ripe for a lark, I admit, but one would discover him more often alone in the library engrossed in a book, jotting down notes. We always teased him about writing a book one day and so he has, several, in fact. I was permitted to follow him about for I was such a quiet child—not that one would recognize the fact now," she added and Alianora smiled a little.