'Yes dear. But such commonplace words could not be used for you. One would have to describe you as…' he raised an eyebrow at her, 'magnificent.'
'You are never wrong, my dear,' he remarked. 'But it is evident that Fox and Audley fall short of Steadman's standards. We arrived at that point.'
'Yes indeed.'
'Ladies,' intoned Lady Fox, rising. 'We shall not have dessert. I could not digest it. We shall leave the gentlemen to their port and retire.'
Ianthe, regretting the blancmange, rose with the other ladies.
In the withdrawing room, Emma Richards had sought her daughter's confidence at once, drawing her aside from their hostess. 'Sally my dear, what has the Marquis of Audley done to displease you? Can it be— is there any insult?'
'Do not worry about insult, Mama,' said Sally in high colour. 'He does not give me insult.' This was said as though the lack of insult was insult itself, and Lady Richards remained confused.
Seeing her daughter's rage mount once more, Sally's mama was thrown back. 'Well, if not insult, then does he … can it be that the marquis has intentions?'
'Oh, he has intentions. He intends to return to London where all his pleasures-' The venom that dripped from her daughter's voice informed the mama that Sally was not referring to driving in the park.
'Sally!' said Her Ladyship, shocked, 'What do you know of gentlemen's pleasures?'
'What do you speak of? I insist on knowing!' called Lady Fox.
'Gentlemen's pleasures,' said Sally, her rage cold.
'But why?'
'It is a pity, Sally was saying earlier, that ladies are not allowed to race,' Ianthe informed Lady Fox, blandly.
'Race? Horses? What a ridiculous notion! Quite ungenteel.'
'Oh, there was a ladies’ race at Housten Hall. Sally won it, you know,' Ianthe informed the baroness.
'There will be no such event at Studham. I will not model my conduct on such as a mere Mrs Housten.'
'No, my lady,' said Lady Richards in a depressed voice. The gentlemen entered.
'Sally, Ianthe, you must behave!' hissed Emma.
'It is they who must behave!' said Ianthe, with determination.
'I think, Lady Richards,' laughed Lady Aurora quietly to that lady, 'that we must leave the girls to their endeavours.
***
The gentlemen, at their port earlier, fell into two camps. The marquis and Fox in the depressed and confused camp, Fenton, Curtis and Steadman into the amused and interested camp.
'Why is Ianthe mad with you, Fox?' asked Curtis.
'She does not say,' said Fox, lost. 'Do you know, sir?' he asked Fenton.
'Yes, approximately.' Fox looked hopeful. 'It is because you are an ass.'
'I thought,' said Fox resentfully, 'that you might help me.'
'I already attempted to help Audley,’ said Fenton, passing a hand over his brow, ‘and my resources are depleted. Work it out for yourself. I am sure that Ianthe, a fair girl, would not leave you without any information on your wrongdoing.'
'You were no help to me,' remarked Audley.
'What did he tell you?' asked Curtis, interested.
'He said not to worry about leaving my vices, that my vices have left me.' He looked at Fox. 'Do you see Edward? No help at all.'
'Ah, so that was the problem,' sighed Steadman. 'I understand now.'
'You do?' Curtis was confused.
'Of course. If that is the impediment, Audley, you are being ridiculous.'
'You know?'
'My eyes can see. It is hardly difficult.'
'What isn't?' asked Curtis.
'You are a simple man, Steadman,' said Fenton. 'I like you.'
Steadman did not look overawed at the compliment, but inclined his head.
'The impediment to what?' asked Curtis. 'And what impediment?' As no one replied, he looked to Fox. 'And how can Mr Fenton help with Ianthe being angry at you?'
'He could explain the reason, perhaps,' answered Steadman when Curtis' brother remained silent.
'Did Ianthe tell you what it was, sir?'
'No. I just know the root cause. Fox is an ass,' Fenton repeated.
'I have always thought so,' said Curtis. 'He needs to ask Ianthe.'
'That will produce no results,' said Fenton wisely. 'He needs to work it out for himself this time.'
'Oh,' had said Fox, discarding his port glass. 'Let us go to them. It does no good sitting here.'
Chapter Thirty-Two
After Dinner Endings
The first to enter were Audley and his host, and they paused on the threshold as two sets of irate eyes bored into them.
'Bon courage, gentlemen!' remarked Mr Fenton, behind them.
The gentlemen moved forward. The ladies sat silent, the young girls cold, Lady Aurora amused, Lady Richards confused. Lady Fox was waiting to be addressed in good form. Curtis opened his mouth, but Steadman frowned him down. Tea was served by a nervous Lady Richards, who tried once or twice to speak. But then she noticed that Lady Aurora, catching a mood, put a finger to her lips, so she remained silent. As she passed the tea to the marquis, she saw that his eye was riveted on the form of her daughter, seated on the sofa, a little back from the chairs by the fire. Could it be? thought Lady Richards. Sally's rage denoted something so intimate…
Audley moved to sit on one side of Sally, saying in an under breath, 'I am sorry for today, Miss Richards. I spoke too…'
'Yes, you spoke, but made no sense at all. I see no reason for us to continue to speak now. You have made me understand. Do not think I shall go into a decline, for I shall not.' His mouth worked, but as usual recently, the master of social dexterity was thrown into confusion.
'I did not think it,' he said. 'We cannot talk here.' He looked over at Lady Fox who had an eye on him, briefly, then at Lady Richards, who Fenton's wife was doing her best to keep occupied. 'I came tonight—'
'Yes, why did you come tonight?' she said, with heightened colour.
'I was just about to tell you,' said Audley, with an attempt at raillery. 'Be quiet and listen.'
'I see no reason to—' she was preparing to rise, but Audley grasped the back of her gown at the bodice, unseen by the others. Dignity required that she keep her seat.
'Listen, you horrible girl,' he said, remembering Ianthe's lesson to him a little late. 'We need to talk. I must apologise for being what Fenton would describe as an ass. I know it. I just came to urge you to ride Sapphire tomorrow and then you can shout at me all you like and relieve your feelings.'
Sally's eyes filled at this, and she looked down at her teacup. Audley was shaken. 'So easily? I have only to shout at you for half an hour and everything will be well?'
A tear splashed onto her cup. Lady Aurora, observing it, was glad that she had called Lady Richards’ attention to herself, and that that lady did not see. A quick look around the room and it was obvious that no other person had seen. Though her husband, there was no telling what Wilbert saw or did not just by his expression.
'Come tomorrow and let us talk. I cannot bear to see you…'
'Do not dare to be kind to me Audley. I will not have it!'
'No,' he said, knowing that her rage was hiding her pain and that she would soon be unable to stop the tears. What on earth had he been thinking? What had he thought he could do at a dinner party? But he had believed that she would have refused herself to him had he visited tomorrow before he left. Fenton was right. He could not keep away. His excuse tonight was that he wished to talk to her more, to let her know that this would really be better for her, to end things with her knowing at least that he meant no insult to her, quite the contrary. It was because he loved her … He heard himself think it, and realised he was a full-blown lunatic. How could it help her to tell her he loved her? He should not be here.
Another tear fell. First, he had to help her regain herself. He searched his brain for an insult. 'That dress does not become you.'
'I beg your pardon?' said Sally, looking first at him and t
hen at the offending evening dress of orange sarcanet.
'It is too thin. You look like you might freeze to death.'
She narrowed her eyes. 'You comment too freely on female apparel. Tell someone who is interested.'
On the other side of the room, Fox had made his delicate approach to Ianthe. 'I keep wondering,' he said beneath the hearing of their neighbours, 'what you meant when you said that Studham gave you clarity about the comte? I did not know that you liked Studham so well—'
She looked at him. He felt himself dwindle in size. Her disdain was enormous. 'I did not say that Studham had—' She closed her eyes and shook her head. 'Do not concern yourself with the topic, Lord Fox. We shall not speak of it again.'
'Why are you angry with me? I never understand you—'
'You do not need to understand me,' she replied trenchantly. 'Understand yourself first, my lord.'
'Ianthe—' He wanted to be angry with her. She looked very beautiful with her eyes sparkling as much as the spangles on her shawl. The dress, of fine red silk, was perhaps not the English fashion for an unmarried lady, but it set off her dark curls to perfection. It was of a superior cut, full of intricate, but subtle detail from the seed pearl encrusting the band below her breast, to the pintucks at the bodice. But however beautiful she looked, he had always been able to be angry with her. Tonight, though, was different. She did not usually respond to his ill humour with anger of her own. No, he had disappointed her, and instead of anger he felt a quiet desperation to understand. She was hurt — somehow, he had been part of the cause of her hurt. But why? She never gave his starts much attention. She had always been able to laugh at him, understand him better than he understood himself. But this time she seemed to require him to know things all on his own. He felt unequal to the challenge. He needed her to tell him how he was to go on. He always needed Ianthe to explain things.
'So, my dear Ianthe, your fortunes have been restored,' Mr Fenton suddenly interrupted.
'What is this? Miss Eames is once again wealthy?' asked Lady Fox.
'Oh yes, Mama, I forgot to tell you that too. The comte stole Miss Eames' fortune, but now it is all come back to her. He was part of a Bonapartist scheme, you know, and he is now on his way back to France to be punished.'
'What comte? Who—? Did you say Bonapartists?' Lady Fox looked like she would faint, and Sally helpfully handed her the vinaigrette from a side table between them.
'You,' continued Fenton, 'with your beauty and your wealth, will take the town by storm next Season, my dear Ianthe.'
Fox blanched. He had not thought of this.
'Oh,' said Curtis laughing. 'I think old Jeffries might have something to say about that. He'll snatch you up before you reach town, Miss Eames, never fear.'
'The tone of this conversation, Curtis, is vulgar in the extreme.'
'Sorry, Mama.'
Fenton appeared not to have heard Her Ladyship's request to turn the subject, for he added, 'Markham, too. Both gentlemen have been in close attendance to the young ladies.'
'Oh, I think that Mr Markham showed more interest in Miss Richards,' said Lady Aurora, an eye on Audley. The marquis put down his cup on a table forcibly.
He got up suddenly and crossed to Sally's mama. 'Lady Richards,' he said, as though a new decision had been made, 'might I ask for your permission—'
Lady Richards grasped her lover's hand until his lost all feeling, but with her eyes riveted on the perfect form of the Marquis of Audley, she interrupted him in her nervousness. 'Yes?' she asked, almost holding her breath.
Ianthe, in a carrying voice, interrupted, too. Moving to the sofa where Sally was sitting, she said, 'I shall not go to town now that my fortune has returned, I do not wish a Season. Sally and I have decided. We shall stay here until the wedding — then we shall both remove to Bath and set up home together.'
'Bath?' said Audley and Fox in unison.
'Sally!' said Sally's mama.
'Yes, Mama. You and Mr Steadman must stay with us regularly of course, but Ianthe and I shall live a life of retirement in Bath.'
'Retirement?' said Curtis. 'You two? I don't think so, ladies. I don't know why I didn't notice it overmuch, but you are really too pretty to live alone in Bath,' said Curtis with feeling, having developed a dislike of the place where he had had to accompany his ailing mama. 'Rum customers in Bath.'
'Cherie, my maman, will chaperone us, and we will live quietly.'
'But why, Sally?' shrieked Lady Richards. 'When we might visit London all together? You love the balls and the play and everything. I know they have the same in Bath, but…'
'We do not intend to attend balls,' said Ianthe.
'No,' said Sally, holding her friend's hand even more firmly. 'We have developed a disgust of such things.'
'You mean,' said Lady Aurora, enjoying herself, 'a disgust of the male sex in particular.'
'That,' said Ianthe, 'is quite correct.'
'Sally!' wailed her mother.
'Which particular characteristic of gentlemen do you object to most?' asked Lady Aurora, in the spirit of helping the thing along.
'Gentlemen who are determined to flirt and flirt all their lives and never love at all,' said Sally.
'Quite right!' said Fenton. 'Those gentlemen are to be despised.'
'What else?' enquired Lady Aurora, eyebrows raised, regarding Ianthe.
'Gentlemen who do not know their own feelings but expect a woman to tell them everything.'
'The worst kind,' agreed Lady Aurora, looking askance at Fox.
The baron stood, concentrating on Ianthe's face. There was show in all this, he knew well, but still it terrified him. Jeffries. First, he had been disturbed by the notion of Ianthe's foreseen success in town. Then there had been the thought of Jeffries, whom he suddenly felt a huge repulsion for. Now there was the fear of her going away. Of not needing him for anything anymore, not even her shelter. And there was no way that two women so pretty would not have a string of … As his stomach churned, the scales fell from his eyes.
'I love her,' he said wonderingly, for himself alone. It had the effect of halting all the others nearby him.
Lady Richards, too distracted to hear him, too panicked by the plans for her daughter's future, focussed on the figure still before her. The marquis had turned his shoulder to look at the sofa, but was still in position.
'Marquis!' said Lady Richards desperately. 'What was it you wanted my permission for?'
Audley, as though shaken from shock, turned back abruptly. 'To pay court to your daughter,' he replied, swift and desperate.
'You have it,' said Emma Richards, determined.
'Whatever—' moaned the baroness, 'Curtis, I am not hearing aright, what is happening this evening?'
'I do not know, Mama … but let's hear more.'
'Whoever said that the country is dull?' asked Fenton.
'Miss Richards,' said the Marquis of Audley in clear and carrying accents, 'Will you be my wife?'
He reached his hands for her, and she took them, rising. 'Really? Really Audley?' She heard herself sound overawed, and was trifle annoyed with herself, but too hapy to care. She fought for her teasing tone, however. 'What about your pleasures, my noble marquis?' she said, but smiling in a way that made his heart ache with happiness.
'You shall be, from this day forth, my one amusement.'
She smiled deliriously, and he took a step closer to her.
'Audley!' said the outraged voice of Lady Fox.
He halted, turning to Her Ladyship, but drawing his beloved's hand through his arm.
'Yes,' said Curtis, before the marquis could say anything. 'Stop it, do, Audley. Edward just made an interesting remark.'
The newly betrothed, holding his hand tightly over Sally's, turned in Fox's direction and discovered that the baron was looking at Ianthe Eames in a fascinated and amazed way.
'Yes,' said Mr Fenton. 'What was that you said, Fox?'
'I love you,' Fox said, but not in reply to Fent
on. He was looking across the three-foot divide, to the beautiful young girl sitting still on the sofa, gazing back at him with fierce intensity. 'Why did you not tell me so, Ianthe? You know me so well.'
'An ass,' said Mr Fenton to his wife. 'I told you he was an ass.' She took his arm and gave it an admonitory tug.
'I could tell you everything but that, Edward. You could not expect that I should tell you that.'
'Can you … do you love me, Ianthe?'
'I have already told you,' she said, with some of her former temper.
He was struggling to keep up. 'About d'Emillion-Orsay? You were no longer confused about him — not when you came here precisely, but … but—'
'When I met you,' Ianthe finished for him.
'But why?'
Steadman looked at Emma Richards and shrugged. 'An ass,' he whispered. 'Fenton got it right.'
'Just because,' Ianthe was answering. 'Because it was you.'
Fox knelt before her, putting his arms around her waist, 'Ianthe!' he breathed.
'Fox!' fairly screamed the soon-to-be Dowager Baroness.
Curtis helped her up. 'Let us go up to your room, Mama,' he said cheerfully. 'That is quite enough upset for tonight. We can tell them our news tomorrow at breakfast.'
Lady Fox, her tottering genuine this time, leant on her son's arm as he walked her to the door, held open by a stone-faced footman. Curtis turned on the threshold. 'Wish you very happy, all of you!'
There was a silence for a second, before Lady Aurora announced, 'I think, don't you, Lady Richards, that some exercise could do the younger people some good. Audley, take Miss Richards for a walk around the house. Borrow my shawl, Miss Richards,' she said, removing a gorgeous Paisley-patterned shawl that she had worn against the chill.
Audley took it from her and placed it tenderly around the shoulders of his love, and they left the room at a run.
'And Fox?'
'I have had a fire lit in the study, your lordship,' said Jenkins in a removed tone.
'Yes, that's it!' said Fox and pulled Ianthe laughing from the room.
'Oh, how did that all happen, Oscar?' said Emma Richards. 'Is Sally really to be the marquis' wife?'
Ianthe and the Fighting Foxes: The Fentons Book 4 Page 26
