He nodded his head to Thorne and drew Charles away to the ballroom saying, with his old suavity, ‘I hear congratulations are in order, dear boy. Let us to the champagne.’
Mr Thorne’s thoughts of untold social advancement lay shattered on the floor. He hastened to his wife’s side, pouring out the tale in a whisper, interrupted by social smiles to the other guests.
Cornelia found Juliana soothing her sister-in-law in a small ante-chamber.
She swept in, rage repressed, and said to Clarissa. ‘Your brother has told me all. Am I to believe, Clarissa, that you have rejected Lord Grandiston?’
Clarissa howled and threw herself onto Juliana’s shoulder. Juliana winced, and then turned to Cornelia, her eyes widened in a repressive message. ‘You are mistaken, Mrs Thorne, no offer to your sister has yet been received from his Lordship.’
Clarissa’s sobs increased.
‘Tell me at once what has occurred?’
‘Nothing has occurred,’ replied Juliana even more repressively, ‘To be sure we all hoped, when his lordship realised … but it is best we do not talk of such things just now.’
‘Yes. Well. Take care of her and stop her crying.’ She swept out once more.
‘Clarissa you have quite bruised me.’ Juliana said.
‘I had to hide my face. I couldn’t squeeze out another fake tear.’ She grinned. ‘Do you think this might actually work?’
‘If Mrs Thorne is not trembling at the thought of losing the biggest fish she has ever had on a hook, I’ve been mistaken in her.’
‘So fortunate that Grandiston has such a devious mind.’
Both ladies giggled and set themselves to find some cards to while away a quarter hour before which they could not re-enter the ballroom.
Oriana meanwhile, was warming up to her role. With great ease, Grandiston had removed her from the coterie of London gentlemen (plus Lord Staines) to draw her into a dance under the nose of Thorne.
He laughed and joked with her, bestowing some shocking touches of gallantry, such as kissing her hand in an intimate way. As Cornelia joined her husband, they watched this little display, which Oriana responded to with feminine eyelash play, Thorne shot his wife a look of despair. Cornelia saw Grandiston’s face freeze mid gallantry, looking over her shoulder. She turned. Clarissa had re-entered the ballroom.
Cornelia grasped her husband’s sleeve, ‘All is not lost.’ she hissed.
Mr Thorne dropped his voice. ‘Look how he is carrying on with Miss Petersham. I have a great regard for my sister, but no one could say she has the charms of her friend.’
‘Nevertheless, look how he is prostrated by the sight of Clarissa. Whatever has occurred, all is not lost.’
John looked doubtfully at Grandiston, now laughing a little loudly with Oriana. ‘I don’t know…’
‘Well, I do. He is too forced. We must find out what precisely happened in the Conservatory.’
‘Miss Micklethwaite…’
‘She wouldn’t tell me… see if Booth knows what’s wrong with his friend.’
‘That’s a bit tricky dearest…’
‘John.’ Cornelia’s tone changed
‘Going, my dear.’
Mr Elfoy was standing by a pillar with the prey as Thorne approached. ‘Coming.’ he hissed at Booth.
The Right Honourable Charles said in a stage whisper, with his back to Thorne, ‘Grandiston’s an idiot.’
Mr Elfoy came closer for the confidence and Thorne withdrew behind the pillar hoping to hear what he could not respectfully ask.
‘What occurred with Miss Thorne this evening? I thought he was esprit in that direction.’
‘He is. We’ve all noticed it. Not his usual type either, which made me think that finally…’
‘We all thought so…’
‘But the problem is, Elfoy, that Grandiston has been so sought after that he must go slowly – he needs to be sure of her genuine attachment. And now Miss Thorne tells him that she’s to depart with her brother in week or so…’
‘Well, he could still see her, couldn’t he?’
‘Of course. But you don’t understand the man. He’s not sure of himself as yet (even if all of us can see it as clear as a pikestaff) and to follow a girl into the country would encourage the world to think …’
‘Quite.’
‘Bit of a libertine in his time, Grandiston. But he would never willingly offer such a slight to a lady. And then his pride … he’s not at all sure of her, either.’ There was a pause. ‘Juliana and I were hoping that with our staying at the Dower House, things could take their course over the summer.’
‘But now he’s diverting himself with Miss Petersham ...’
‘Indeed - such a shame. I think Miss Thorne is just the girl for him.’
The two confidants wandered back towards the Earl, to find a card room.
John Thorne, bristling with information returned to his anxious wife.
Chapter 19
The Aftermath
At breakfast the next day, Cornelia was in high spirits. ‘Such a night it was, my dear Clarissa, was it not?’ She sipped at her chocolate and the ladies mistrusted the honeyed tones and the sweeter smile that accompanied them. ‘Your engagement, my dearest Juliana can only delight us all. And there was much more to be noted. All the London gentlemen danced with us. I declare it took me back to my giddy youth. And Mr Elfoy was so handsome last night, do you not agree, dear sister?’ Here she looked at Clarissa keenly from below her lids. ‘The whole ballroom is talking about how he led Annabel Challoner out to dance three times. A very marked attention.’ Clarissa prevented herself from reacting - she had been tense enough to see him lead the vicar’s daughter out twice, but must have been in the conservatory upon the third occasion.
‘Three …?’ she breathed, but Miss Micklethwaite interrupted, ‘Jam!’ she said. Both ladies looked at her. ‘I pray, Mrs Thorne, please pass the jam.’ Cornelia did so gracelessly, turning back to her prey to assess her reaction. She suspected that Clarissa was closer to her agent than was decent or permissible. Grandiston could certainly elbow him out, but some estrangement certainly existed at the moment and there was no denying the agent was indecently handsome.
Clarissa had herself well in hand now and she merely said, ‘That will give the gossips some fodder.’ And she yawned, in the way any young lady might after the rigours of a Ball.
‘I believe that we must stay here for the summer after all, dearest sister. Whilst John is certain of a sale, it might be as well to enjoy happy band of revellers for the near future.’
It seemed that the Earl’s ploy had worked. The ladies sighed as one.
Clarissa, in a mood of mischief, said plaintively, ‘What a pity that I gave Lord Grandiston … that is, Mr Booth, the news that their tenancy must be cut short. I believe the Earl means to…’ her voice suspended on a sob, ‘… leave today.’
Cornelia left in haste to dispatch her husband (not yet risen) to the Dower House before his breakfast to forestall such a move.
‘That,’ said Juliana admiringly, ‘was wicked. I didn’t know that you had such a talent for dissembling.’
‘I fear all of us have behaved most shamefully last evening,’ Miss Appleby crooned, nibbling at a biscuit disinterestedly.
‘The shame is that we needed a gentleman to pull it off.’ Miss Micklethwaite looked at the assembled company. Juliana glowed, but the rest of the ladies were making efforts to cover up their moroseness. She guessed at the younger two. Oriana had been handed to their carriage by Grandiston and had continued her role with a flirtatious smile. The Earl kissed her hand grandly and she had been scolded by Mrs Thorne all the way home for being fast. This was of course to plan, but the elder lady understood that Oriana’s spirits had fallen when she reflected that the ruse was just that.
Mr Elfoy had handed Clarissa into the carriage but his touch was fleeting and cold and his manner unusually formal. He blamed Clarissa a little for the ruse, thought that it might become
real and was realising the despair of his position. Clarissa just noticed his coldness and her spirit was frozen. Waity didn’t blame her – there seemed to be no way of fixing that problem. It was too uneven a match.
This much Miss Micklethwaite understood, but why Louisa was so miserable, she could not at all guess.
Sullivan bent over the breakfast table to Clarissa, who roused herself at once. ‘Might I have a word, Miss Clarissa?’
Clarissa gave him an intelligent look, roused from her torpor. She swept off to the library with Sullivan in her wake.
‘First, Miss, there’s a problem with Mrs Smith. Mrs Thorne will not surrender the keys to her and has issued orders that the housekeeper must apply to her if she wishes to unlock anything. Such an insult, Mrs Smith says, has not been offered to her in all her career. She wished to send word that she will accept no orders but yours, but I managed to stop that.’
‘Oh thank you dear Sullivan. Until we think of a way to be rid of her, it is much better not to set up Mrs Thorne’s back…’
Clarissa was beginning to realise that an unconsidered result of last night’s win was the continued presence of her brother and his wife. It was hard to bear. She needed to clear her head lest she let Cornelia have the black side of her tongue. She moved to the door, ‘Ask Jed to bring around Sultan. I need to ride this morning before I encounter my sister-in-law once more.’
‘Yes miss,’ Sullivan coughed. ‘There is one more thing I wish to bring to your attention…’
But Clarissa was at the door. ‘After my ride Sullivan,’ she said much in the tone of her mother. ‘And deny us to visitors this morning, except of course to the Dower House.’ And she swept away. Sullivan debated following her, but decided against it. Instead he sent for Mr Elfoy as promised. But he feared that he may be too late.
Miss Appleby had, with difficulty, written her letters last night: one each to her three companions and another left on the hall table to be sent to Sir Montague. She felt, after all his kindness to her that she had better take her leave of him too and she enclosed a recipe for a reviving broth that she had discovered between the leaves of a book from the library. If only his cook could be encouraged to use it, perhaps his health might somewhat improve. On her last visit, he had taken a short walk in the garden with her and given her a rose with his own hands. She had preserved it between the pages of a book though she knew she was silly to do so. It was merely a gentlemanly gesture.
A gig had been ordered to come and collect her at 11 of the clock, it would take her to the stagecoach and then to her brother Farnham. She would arrive unannounced, it would be too dreadfully shaming, but quite her own fault for delaying her letter to her brother, as Mrs Thorne had let her know. No more simpering delays she had said, it would really be too selfish to soak off Clarissa for one more day. The gig would come to the servant’s entrance. No one could intercept her. Mrs Thorne thought of everything.
Miss Micklethwaite tried her friend’s door, but it was locked. She must be having a nap after their rollicking night at the ball. Appleby had danced with all the London gentlemen and had very likely exhausted herself. She would talk to her after luncheon.
Sullivan saw Miss Micklethwaite pass, and considered for a moment discussing the matter with her, but discretion is the watchword of a butler, and it was one thing to tell his mistress his suspicions, quite another to disseminate another lady’s business further afield. Mr Elfoy had some foreknowledge and it was thus permissible to send him word, but further than this, Sullivan could not go. But he shook his head. The gig was already on its way.
Clarissa found that a rather longer ride than usual was necessary to clear her head. As she walked from the stables to the house, she felt that their victory of last night was hollow. The Thornes had their feet under the table in a way set fair to upend the household, including both staff and residents. Appleby had been distant this morning when she went to her room before breakfast; Juliana was living in a bubble of love that made empathy for the other’s woes difficult; and to crown it all, Oriana seemed to suspect her of having designs on Grandiston. Dissembling had seemed quite fun at first, but in the cold light of day it was apparent that they would have to keep it up interminably and even then what would the end be? John would learn of the Grandiston deception and order her back to live with him. She could hardly bear it.
As she reached the house, it was to find a gentleman dismount from a fine but old-fashioned carriage. She tripped forward, guessing it to be Mr Sowersby, but instead found a gentleman dressed plainly in black with a venerable wig, also plain, upon his head.
‘Mr Micklethwaite is it? How lovely to see you.’
‘Miss Thorne, it is a pleasure to see you.’ Micklethwaite, in stature very like his squat sister, bowed stiffly.
‘Do come in, sir,’ smiled Clarissa.
‘I shall Miss Thorne, once I have directed the coachman to settle my bags at the Inn.’
‘You shall do no such thing, sir. You shall stay here tonight, of course.’
‘It is an intrusion, I fear.’
‘Not at all. Your sister has set about the organisation of this house so that it is quite simple to accommodate you. We do not want for rooms as you see.’ She moved her hand to indicate the vast sprawl of the house.
They mounted the stairs to the imposing front doors as they talked comfortably.
‘Your sister will be so pleased.’
Micklethwaite smiled a little dolefully. ‘I might not have come, but for her requesting information on a little legal matter regarding your present situation. It is a rather complex reply, so that I thought it better to come here myself.’
‘How kind,’ - but Clarissa said this absently, for Mr Elfoy was galloping down the drive, his horse’s flanks lathered.
He dropped to the ground handing the reins to Mr Micklethwaite’s bemused groom and started up the steps two at a time.
Meanwhile, Oriana was walking in the garden, determined to avoid Cornelia, Thorne and any morning callers. It was wonderful that their ruse had worked but she too had suddenly realised the precariousness of their position. Grandiston and Clarissa had played their parts well last night, she could almost believe that the earl had feelings for her friend and as much as Oriana knew that Clarissa favoured Mr Elfoy, she understood that this connection would not be permitted by Clarissa’s brother. It would be seven years until Clarissa attained her majority and it was useless to suppose that last night’s play could do more than delay the inevitable. Grandiston genuinely liked Clarissa and had paid only cursory attention to her before last night’s performance. Perhaps this thing he had with her friend would prosper and it was not for her to stand in his way.
But when they had danced it was like old times. But no, it was better. For in those blind days, Oriana had not known how much she loved and admired her father’s teasing companion. She knew he was handsome and funny and annoying, but she had not known then that there was no man to rival him – not one of her suitors had come near to the excitement that his presence instilled in her.
She had directed her steps to the back of the house to avoid detection and now was confronted by several workmen lowering slate from the roof in a sacking sling and then loading it onto a waiting cart. Most of them wore a relic of army uniform, some the trousers and another a tattered jacket and she stood for a minute or two and watched them, noting a damaged hand on one man that necessitated that another man with a limp had to load him up with the slate bag so that he could carry it. Oriana, standing by a tree so as not to interrupt, had tears in her eyes. These were the brave soldiers who had routed Napoleon, still bravely overcoming their woes. Oriana felt ashamed - what troubles did she have that could compare? Perhaps she would end up living with Fitzroy again but it would not at all matter, she thought miserably.
From the Dower House path came the sound of a horse: Grandiston had dismounted before she had time to avoid him.
‘Well met. How did our scheme prosper?’ he said, noting the
lowness of her mood.
‘Surely Mr Thorne called on you this morning to apprise you?’
‘Before breakfast? I denied myself. He left a message to be sure to call when I arose. I rode over as soon as my neckcloth was tied to my valet’ satisfaction. He’s a bit of a stickler, you know.’ Oriana gave a wan smile. ‘The young lover and his future in-laws walked over at an untimely hour. What does Thorne want with me?’
In a dull voice, Oriana said, ‘Mrs Thorne has relented. We are all to stay for the summer.’
‘Hah!’ said the Earl with satisfaction.
Oriana turned her startling blue eyes upon him – less glacier and more stormy sea. ‘That’s all very well, but she and Thorne are staying too. It will cut up all our peace.’
She was glad to see Grandiston’s face lose its smugness. ‘Surely she will need to return to her children?’
Oriana just looked.
‘An affectionate mother indeed.’ Still with the reins in his hands, Grandiston sat on a log and offered his coattails for Oriana to join him. She sat without restraint, her annoyance with him putting her back into their old relations. ‘Well, we shall just have to get rid of them,’ he said decidedly.
‘Good for us. How shall we achieve it? You could offer for Clarissa, I suppose,’ she said in a voice of affected nonchalance, ‘and that might leave Cornelia free to go home to inform all her acquaintance. She’d want to see their faces as she dropped the news.’
‘Indeed. And shall we plan the wedding as well?’
Oriana stiffened, ‘It seems you like her well enough. And you are getting no younger, Grandiston. Clarissa would make a wonderful wife.’
‘She would.’ For a second, Oriana turned those stormy eyes on him then returned to her stiffened posture, clutching her hands together. ‘But I fear I may be dead within the week,’ he continued musingly, ‘Elfoy and I went hunting the other day. He’s a crack shot. And then …’ Oriana found herself weakening at the laugh in his voice, but she dared not turn around until he said, ‘… your father meant you for me.’ His eyes were shining down on her; his harsh face alight with laughter and a deeper warmth that made her shiver.
Clarissa and the Poor Relations Page 15
