‘Do you really think so, my dear?’ said Miss Appleby hopefully, ‘But perhaps she is only acting for the best, for Clarissa’s sake. She is after all, family.’ she added forlornly. And stabbed her finger again with her needle.
Sir Montague’s man, meanwhile, had reached Mr Elfoy and summoned him to his house. The news that he imparted, with great upset and bluster, Elfoy took at once to the Dower House. He entered through the French doors, very much at his ease now.
‘That blasted woman.’ he exclaimed to Grandiston, who was standing by the fire.
‘Oh, Elfoy.’ said the Earl suavely, ‘did my housekeeper set her dog on you again? You’ve joined a happy company,’ he gestured to Mr And Mrs Thorne and Clarissa, seated in the high backed chairs.
Mr Elfoy’s face was wooden, but a glance at Clarissa’s almost overcame him. It was alive with glee. Grandiston cocked him an eyebrow, but he managed a tolerable bow and said what was proper.
‘I think,’ said Cornelia regally, ‘that it is time we left, my love.’ She turned and smiled simperingly at Grandiston, ‘You must tell Lord Staines we shall be delighted to attend the Ball, although whether the other ladies shall be able to attend, I do not know.’
‘Oh, I think they will,’ said Grandiston suavely, ‘I depend upon all of you attending or I shall find that Mr Booth and I have another engagement that evening.’
Cornelia paused. ‘Oooh, you.’ she said eventually, ‘of course, if that is the way of it, I shall do my very best to persuade them. But it is not at all what they are used to as schoolteachers, you know, and they will be overwhelmed, I daresay.’ she added with a sidelong look to see how he took this argument.
Grandiston smiled and kissed her hand, ‘But something tells me what Mrs Thorne wants, she gets. I leave it to you to persuade them.’
She laughed and turned her pretty head, not sure that she had seen and heard the steel in the Earl’s eye and voice, but certainly not prepared to take the chance. She led the way out of the door, but in response to the pregnant look in Mr Elfoy’s eye, Clarissa ran back in, on the pretext of forgetting a glove.
‘Can you get the ladies here without being spotted?’ he said urgently, automatically clutching her hands. Grandiston looked on benignly. They gave themselves away so easily, these two.
‘All of them?’ whispered Clarissa, laughing.
‘As many as possible - and soon.’
Cornelia was saying to John, ‘A Ball. Oh, John I never thought for so much diversion when I came to this house. And do you not think Grandiston is paying a great deal of distinguishing attention to Clarissa - she could be a Countess within the year.’
John looked pleased, ‘Yes, but dear one, should we not get back home to the children soon? We should settle this estate sale as soon as possible.’
‘Yes, of course arrange it with Staines, but set the date a month or two forward, we would not like to let a chance like this slip by. When Clarissa marries Grandiston there is no saying what good it may do us.’ A new hope dawned, ‘Would there not be settlements?’
John blushed. ‘Surely not. I am not her father after all.’
‘Yes, but you are the nearest relative. Oh John, we would be made.’
Clarissa joined them and conversation reverted to the Ball and whilst she answered desultorily, wondering how to round up and smuggle four women out to the Dower House. Various remedies, including Miss Micklethwaite scaling a rope ladder occurred only to be gigglingly dismissed.
The landaulet carriage it would have to be, round at the back of the house, taking the small road through the trees, where the tradesmen came. She supposed it must connect to the Dower House somewhere.
So it was that the ladies met in the Dower House a bare half hour later.
Mr Elfoy drew Miss Appleby away and spoke quietly to her.
‘Sir Montague has informed me of your decision to leave.’
Miss Appleby grasped his wrist and shushed him, ‘I pray you be quiet sir,’ she begged, ‘I would not have Clarissa know for the world. You see Mrs Thorne has made me see that it is the right thing to do but my dear child could never be brought to acknowledge it.’ Her little eyes pleaded desperately to him and he felt an overwhelming urge to damn both the Thornes to perdition. This queer old thing might almost be his mother and he was damned if he would allow that poisonous woman to hurt her like this.
‘I will say nothing, upon my honour.’ he said, knowing he could rely on Sir Montague if Clarissa had to know, ‘But I must ask you for a favour, my dear lady. You must not leave until after the Ball. Miss Thorne needs you so. Have you written to the Farnhams yet? Can you put them off?’
Miss Appleby’s desire to put the entire thing off altogether vied for place with her sense of duty. ‘I really must leave, Mr Elfoy. Mrs Thorne was quite correct.’ Her speech became shaken, ‘It is so kind of you to…’
‘Indeed, ma’am, I am not being kind,’ he said, grasping her wringing hands in his warm ones, ‘I do not know if Miss Thorne can manage to live with her brother’s wife without you to support her spirits. Indeed, she has told me as much.’ His warm voice soothed her and she looked up at him.
‘Do you think so indeed?’ she said hopefully, ‘Mrs Thorne is a little forceful, although I am sure that Clarissa has quite enough spirit to deal with her. But perhaps she might need me to alter the ball gown … and the linen is still in such a state …Perhaps I shall delay writing to my relatives for a little while.’ She smiled at him hazily, and he led her into the drawing room, where everyone sat under the spell of Grandiston holding court.
The results of this conference were not seen until a week later, the night of the ball.
The number of candles employed by Lady Staines to light the Ballroom would not have disgraced the most ambitious London hostess. Her son might have quibbled about the ruinous cost for a mere country ball, but news that his mother had received from the capital about the exact incredible total of Miss Petersham’s fortune had relaxed his frown. That the beauty who had smitten him enough to ignore her portion came also with such birth and fortune took his breath away.
He had been obliged to invite some of his rivals for his beloved’s hand, but since the strange disappearance of the French Duc, he felt himself to be preeminent on the list. He had enough self-satisfaction to be unable to doubt his own victory. His mother, dressed tonight in hot pink and purple, was not so confident, but she resolved to do her best to secure this catch for her boy.
Oriana looked magnificent this evening. Her ball gown was of simple white silk embroidered subtly with silver butterflies that caught the light as she moved. At her neck was a single pearl drop while her hair was piled in a classical style and held by white satin ribbons. Every gentleman in the room stared unashamedly whilst even the most charitable ladies felt a twinge of envy.
Clarissa, standing in her shadow and taking in the reaction with an amused smile, found one pair of eyes meet hers. Mr Elfoy, resplendent in plain evening dress and white satin waistcoat appeared to have glanced at the apparition very quickly, in favour of looking at Oriana’s companion. She blushed. She was looking rather dashing herself, she thought, (though best not to stand next to Oriana if she wished anyone to note it). Her hair was coiled and allowed to escape in shining curls onto her neck and her dress of cerulean blue crepe cut daringly at her bosom became her well and opened at the front over a white satin under-dress. Blue ribbon of the same shade adorned her curls and she looked, to Mr Elfoy’s eye, quite perfect. Evidently agreeing, Sir Piers came forward to lead her into the dance-set just forming. Since he had not even requested Miss Petersham as yet, Elfoy knew this to be fatally significant. So he had nothing better to do then than accidentally to break the heart of one of the vicar’s daughters whilst raising the hopes of the second by leading her to the set, manfully avoiding following Clarissa with his gaze but quite missing the melting looks his companion was giving him.
Miss Micklethwaite, in the plainest of black silks, wondered if Grandis
ton had that situation in his grand plan. She looked over at him, whilst he stood languidly listening to one of the London swains and gazing at the dance. Unexpectedly, he met her eye after his gaze had been directed at Elfoy. What she saw there allowed her to release a little sigh. There was a man, she thought. One she could depend on, though she had never before done so. She gazed at Oriana, being led by Lord Staines to the dance floor with her face showing as much animation as a corpse. I hope Grandiston has an eye to his own affairs, she thought.
There was a party of late arrivals at the ball, two uninvited, but Grandiston had dropped a word in Lady Staines’ ear, so she moved forward royally, ‘Mr Booth and Mr and Mrs Sowersby, I believe. You are most welcome, how lovely that you could come after your long journey.’
Mr Sowersby, in a plain but excellently cut evening dress, bent over her hand suavely, ‘Forgive the imposition Lady Staines, but my wife is anxious to see her daughter again after the weeks of her visit.’
Lady Staines looked from young Booth, whose eyes were searching the room, to Mrs Sowersby, ‘Ah, a romance.’
Mrs Sowersby smiled. ‘You have guessed it. We have visited Mr Booth’s family on our way here, but it is not to be announced yet. Ah, there is my dear girl, but who is she dancing with?’
‘Oh, Sir Piers Loxley,’ uttered her ladyship with a warm feeling of having the most fashionable country ball in recorded history.
Booth had discovered Juliana also and led her parents forward to the dance hall. When she saw them, she gave a little squeal, and apologised to her partner. He was amused and good naturedly led her from the floor.
‘Is all well, mamma?’ said Juliana worriedly
‘All is well, my dear. There is only the argument about the timing - Mr Booth wishes to wed you before Christmas, whilst I am determined not to lose you for a year yet.’
They withdrew to an anteroom, Juliana hardly able to look at her beloved, for fear she would die of her happiness. But soon he was holding her hand and she looked up at him with such shining eyes that Mr Sowersby was made to remark, ‘I think, my dear, that it had best be before Christmas.’
Juliana smiled, but then looked conscious, ‘Oh, I have a great deal to do here tonight, my dear Mr Booth - and so do you.’
Her mother frowned, but Juliana added, ‘It is a plot of Lord Grandiston’s, mamma, I am pledged to secrecy.’ She looked mischievously at her mother.
Mrs Sowersby could wish that she had been on such easy terms with the Earl in London, but that could not be helped. That august personage could still be of immense social value to the young couple and she would not put herself in the way of any scheme of his.
‘What’s this?’ said the more upright Mr Sowersby.
‘Oh father, ‘tis only a scheme to best Mrs Thorne…’ Juliana whispered in his ear.
‘Oh,’ said her upright parent, remembering several scores good manners had stopped him settling with that lady, ‘If that’s all…’ And he led them back into the ballroom, whistling.
Mrs Thorne spotted the Sowersbys at once. She felt instantly deflated from the lady-of-the-great-house manner that she had adopted towards the guests all evening. In Sowersby she was minor gentry. She stiffened her sinews: her dear sister-in-law’s inheritance had changed her position. Ashcroft was three times the size of Sowersby Manor, and she was family there. Indeed, she had wondered with John the other night whether they could not all move to Ashcroft, for she would like excessively to lord it over the village and manor houses permanently. John, however, had explained that the estate could never recover, that she would have to live without many things and that Clarissa’s imprudence so far had probably made things a great deal worse, so she had to abandon the thought. For this evening, though, she would shine. Therefore she went forward to the Sowersbys with an air of the grande dame, ‘Mr and Mrs Sowersby, how delightful to see you both - Juliana did not tell me you were expected.’
Mrs Sowersby narrowed her eyes at the familiarity and her manner and barely touched her outstretched hand. ‘Why should she indeed?’
Clarissa, coming from the dance floor heard this and choked. ‘My dear Mr and Mrs Sowersby - how delightful to see you.’
Mr Sowersby had been fond of Clarissa since she had befriended his shy daughter and now he grasped her hands warmly. ‘Well my beauty, let’s look at you.’ He smiled, ‘You look fine as fivepence. I declare if it wasn’t for those naughty eyes, I should not have known you.’
Clarissa twinkled up at him, ‘Do you like my fine new dress?’ Cornelia gasped at the effrontery, but Mr Sowersby laughed.
‘Very fetching. The latest thing.’ he said approvingly
‘I am so glad, sir, for you paid for it,’ she said mischievously.
Mrs Sowersby laughed, ‘Oh – it is the blue that did not become Juliana. I declare I did not recognise it, dear Clarissa, so delightful does it look upon you.’
‘Minx.’ said Sowersby to Clarissa, pinching her chin.
She turned to Charles, ‘Well, Mr Booth, I trust you prospered on your journey?’ But she was teasing. His smile and familiarity with Juliana’s family spoke it all. He winked.
Mrs Thorne drew attention to herself once more. ‘You must stay with us, of course, while you are in the district.’
Mr Sowersby gave her a stately bow, ‘Miss Thorne has already issued an invitation by way of Mr Booth, but our bags are at the Dower House.’
‘Oh,’ said Cornelia, shooting a glance of dislike at Clarissa, ‘You are well acquainted with Mr Booth, then.’
‘He is my daughter’s husband-to-be,’ said Sowersby indifferently. With a bow, he drew his party away from Mrs Thorne and towards the supper room.
‘I could eat a horse.’ The Honourable Charles was saying, with Juliana’s hand tucked safely into his arm.
They were intercepted by Sir Rodney Pierce, whose pursuit of Oriana had allowed him to meet the gentle Miss Sowersby, also an heiress, ‘My dance, I think, Miss Sowersby.’ he demanded.
‘Sheer off, Fudge,’ said Booth, using his schoolboy name, ‘Taking my fiancé to supper.’ he finished proudly. Sir Rodney shook his hand as did a few persons in the vicinity who had overheard. Juliana blushed rosily and smiled her thanks, being rescued by Clarissa.
‘We have settled on the conservatory at eleven, don’t fail me,’ Clarissa whispered.
Booth raised an eyebrow at his lady love, who squeezed his arm and said, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ in a stage whisper. What was there, wondered Juliana that made her feel so brave and safe when Charles was beside her? He laughed down at her, entranced by her mischievousness.
By five to eleven, their work had been set in play. The Earl had danced twice with Clarissa and had escorted her to supper – conferring an almost unknown distinction. He laughed and teased her and, in one unbelievable moment, Clarissa exclaimed, ‘Oh, my shawl, I believe it is in the ballroom.’ and turned her wide eyes on her escort. To which the Earl had replied, ‘Allow me, Miss Thorne.’ and marched off to find it.
Both Miss Micklethwaite and Miss Appleby had been quizzed by the ladies present, but had kept their council, mysteriously silent. Had the Earl of Grandiston, pursued by every beauty on the marriage mart for years, finally succumbed to the heiress of Ashcroft? The ballroom was fairly humming. Cornelia overheard several conversations on the subject and John had been asked outright by Sir Piers.
‘Oh, my goodness.’ said Cornelia to her perplexed husband. ‘Everyone is talking about it. They believe he has proposed already.’
‘He would naturally have informed me.’ said John.
‘Well, yes, my love. But his attentions are most marked.’
‘If only Clarissa will not refuse him.’
‘Refuse him? Grandiston? Even Clarissa could not be so wilful, so ungrateful …’ Cornelia spat out.
‘I see nothing more in her manner than her usual kind of banter. The stupid education her mother gave her has left her with no appreciation of rank,’ said John worriedly. ‘She sent him for h
er shawl, for goodness sake. Grandiston!’
‘I know, but he went. Her manners seem to delight him. Oh John, to be visitors at Grandiston Park!’
On this heady thought Mr Booth, who seldom danced, led his wife onto the floor.
Chapter 18
The plot
At five to eleven, Charles meandered over to Thorne, who was standing beside a flower arrangement watching his wife dance gaily with a handsome military man.
‘Could we withdraw, Thorne?’ he said sotto voice.
Mr Thorne looked his amazement.
‘You know the Sowersbys well, don’t you? Well, I have some advice to ask you.’
John bowed his head in his stiff way and followed Booth’s leisurely path towards the conservatory. As they approached the threshold, Charles chatted easily,
‘I suppose you know by now that I am affianced to Miss Sowersby? Well, I was hoping you could tip me the wink about old Sowersby? I mean is he ...?’
A sob made Thorne look up, and Clarissa pushed past him from the depths of the conservatory, clutching a handkerchief to her face. As he turned in astonishment, he saw Juliana sweep his sister into her arms and lead her away to a side room before the ballroom herd could see her distress.
Thorne looked again as another figure emerged from the conservatory: Grandiston. His desire to reprimand a man for taking his sister apart in this way was retarded by the Earl’s magnificence and it was just as well, for Miss Micklethwaite, ever the chaperone, emerged from behind a large potted palm and curtsied lightly to the Earl who nodded.
As that lady joined Miss Appleby who seemed to be hovering near by – really, was everyone around the Conservatory? – he heard her whisper, ‘He’ll sheer off, for sure.’
Miss Appleby moaned and clucked and the two ladies moved off.
Grandiston was addressing him. ‘Your sister has just told me that she must leave the district shortly. That is … a pity.’ His face was unusually grave. ‘That is to say, Booth and I are so settled at the Dower House.’
Clarissa and the Poor Relations Page 14
