The Westerby Sisters (Changing Fortunes Series)

by M C Beaton

  "But your wife?" cried Fanny.

  "Philadelphia drinks about a pint of laudenum a night and is as the dead until noon the following day. My servants will not murmur a word, nay, not even my wife's lady's maid. She has cut their food rations as well, don't you see."

  "It is not convenable," said Fanny wildly.

  Sir Anthony leaned toward her. "My chef can make an oglio fit for a king."

  Fanny's now flat stomach groaned. Oglio, that highly spiced hash of meat and vegetables, was her favorite dish.

  "And don't tell a soul," murmured Sir Anthony, "but my French wines are smuggled and have never known the sour touch of a London importer."

  "Stop!" wailed Fanny, putting her hands over her ears.

  Sir Anthony gently pulled her hands away. "He can make the more unsophisticated dishes, the simple country dishes. When hast thou had frumenty last? Think, my dear Miss Fanny, husked wheat boiled in creamy milk of porridge so thick you could stand the spoon in it, sweetened with plums and sugar."

  "Oh! Oh! Oh!" cried Fanny, holding her middle and rocking backward and forward.

  "And he can make a soup out of a couple of hundred sparrows laced with sherry wine." Moved to quoting poetry by the sheer ecstacy of it all, Sir Anthony threw back his head and sounded forth Alexander Pope's lines, " 'Thy truffles, Perigord! Thy hams, Bayonne!'"

  "Yes, yes!" cried Fanny.

  " 'Oh! The roast beef of England, And old England's roast beef,' " sang Sir Anthony, suddenly clasping her in his arms and staring passionately down at her averted face. "Say you will eat with me, Miss Fanny. Ah, say! Say! You are as moved as I at the prospect. Your face is like a meringue, your lips like the cherries of Kent, your breath like the honey from the slopes of Mount Olympus. Give me your answer!"

  Fanny melted in his arms like the very best butter and with eyes shining like oysters in a goose stuffing, she cried, "Oh, yes! I will! I can stand it no longer!"

  We are supposed to have lost certain of our former psychic powers but lovers manage to retain some of them. And so it was that when Betty and the Duke arrived at the Westerby town house, Betty knew exactly why the Duke was escorting her home, although he said it was to see to the safety of Simon, and the Duke knew that Betty knew what was in his mind and that she was prepared to allow him the liberty of kissing her.

  And accordingly the happy pair promptly began to have doubts about each other. The fact that the path of true love may not run smooth is not in our stars. We make the road bumpy ourselves for we instinctively know that, without frustration, love and passion cannot really burn with any intensity.

  By the time they were mounting the front steps, the Duke had decided not to kiss Betty and Betty had decided not to let him, should he change his mind, for she instinctively knew he no longer wanted to kiss her and exactly at which second he had had this change of heart.

  After Simon had been escorted upstairs to bed by one of the servants, the Duke and Betty were alone at last.

  The street door opened and closed with a bang.

  Bella walked into the drawing room, panting slightly.

  Frustration!

  The Duke again overwhelmingly wanted to kiss Bétty and Betty overwhelmingly wanted him to.

  Both glared at the panting Bella.

  "I come in a chaise as fast as I could," gasped Bella. "Lady Hester told me to go along home on account o' Simon feeling peaky."

  "Simon is perfectly well," said Betty sharply. "I do not know what Hester can have been about to tell such a fib."

  "Lawks!" exclaimed Bella. "And there she is alone in them Gardens with Captain Dunbray."

  "If she is with Captain Dunbray," said the Duke, "then no harm will come to her. He is a gentleman."

  There was a long silence while Bella hopefully looked at the tea tray.

  It was broken at last by the Duke who put up his eyeglass and surveyed the elderly maid. "I declare you are a wonder, Bella," he said. "At your age to have had such an exhausting day and still to be on your feet. You must think Lady Betty a hard mistress to keep you awake at this hour."

  Betty gave him a startled look, read his mind and added her voice to his.

  "Yes, you must go to bed instantly, Bella, and I shall send a dish of tea up to you. His Grace and I shall be quite all right. We shall leave the door open."

  Bella looked at the pair of them doubtfully. She was not at all tired, but she thought that the Duke would be a great marriage catch for Betty and so she, Bella, had better make herself absent.

  The Duke waited until Bella had left and then crossed the room and quietly closed the doors of the drawing room and turned to Betty with a smile.

  Out in the hall, the street door opened again. "Is that you, Hester?" called Betty.

  There was a stifled giggle and then Hester's voice. " 'Tis I, Betty. Do not trouble to leave the drawing room, I pray you. I am vastly fatigued and I am going straight to bed."

  Betty was now determined that the Duke should kiss her, so she stayed where she was, over by the fireplace, and contented herself by shouting out, "Good night."

  They heard Hester beginning to ascend the stairs and very heavy-footed she sounded—clump, clump, clump, stagger, giggle, stagger.

  The Duke crossed to the fireplace and looked down at Betty. She was suddenly and irrationally frightened of him. Fashion is a great barrier, a great mask. He looked formidable in his silks and laces and patches and paint, his eyes glittering green as they gazed down into her own.

  "Betty," he said softly, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

  Thump, thump, from overhead.

  "Hester's bedroom," explained Betty, looking up at the ceiling.

  "Does she wear boots?" teased the Duke. "It sounds exactly like a man pulling off his boots and throwing them on the floor."

  Creak.

  "She's gone to bed now," whispered Betty. "Hester's bed does creak so."

  "Then, my darling," began the Duke, pulling her closer, "I . . ."

  Creak, creak, CREAK. Creak, creak, CREAK.

  Betty stared at the ceiling in amazement and a dull, red blush spread over her face. Her stepfather, the old Marquess, and her mother, Sally, had been energetic and open in their frequent love-making, and Betty knew without a doubt that Hester had a man in bed with her.

  The Duke released Betty and crossed to a side table where there was a tray laden with decanters and poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Betty and then sat down on a baroque William Kent chair and silently sipped his wine. Above his powdered head, the creaking grew quicker and wilder and then there was silence.

  She cannot be respectable with a sister like that, thought the Duke savagely. And here am I, trying to work up courage to kiss her! Bedamned! I could have probably taken her off to bed.

  He looked across at Betty who had seated herself and who was staring down into the depths of her wine glass as if seeking inspiration.

  Betty raised her head and opened her mouth to say something about the weather, something about the social scene, and found herself saying instead, "It cannot be true. Not Hester. She is very wild, Your Grace, but never would she . . . never could she . . ."

  "Then go and see," he mocked.

  Blue eyes met green and blue eyes fell. "I c-cannot," whispered Betty. "Suppose there is someone there? Captain Dunbray . . .?"

  "I should be amazed if it is Jimmy there," said the Duke. "But whoever is there has had what he came for and it is too late to interfere."

  Her obvious innocence and distress softened his anger. He got to his feet and Betty arose at the same time.

  He smiled, put down his wine glass, and held out his arms. "Come to me, Betty," he said softly.

  She took one step forward.

  Creak!

  Betty froze and stared at the ceiling.

  Creak, creak, CREAK. Creak, creak, CREAK.

  "Bloody rabbits," muttered the Duke savagely. "Bloody, bloody, bloody rabbits!'

  There is nothing more dampening, mor
e apt to pour cold water on the lusts and passions of the flesh than the sound of someone else's noisy love-making. For one's own lusts and passions can be translated in the mind to pure love and noble romance while sounds-off are merely the disgusting noises of abandoned rutting.

  The Duke decided to take his leave—kiss-less.

  But she looked so upset and ashamed, so fragile, like a little Dresden shepherdess, that he said instead, "Let us go for a drive in the Park."

  "At this hour?" exclaimed Betty.

  "The sun is up and it is a beautiful morning and you are not yet ready for sleep."

  Upstairs, the creaking grew to a frenzy.

  "Yes," said Betty suddenly. "Let's go."

  The street door slammed behind them.

  Lady Hester Lovelace freed her mouth from under Captain Jimmy Dunbray's and sighed, "What was that?"

  "Don't know and don't care," he mumbled into her hair.

  Hester sighed and whispered. "You are so perfect. So small and so perfect."

  "I'm not small everywhere," grinned the Captain. "Ah, Hester. Do you know what you are doing to me?"

  Hester was slowly and lazily running her nails over his stomach. "Everywhere about me is on fire," said Hester in awe. "Every bit of me that touches you."

  He ran his lips slowly down the length of her long, high-breasted, golden body, stopping to explore her navel with his tongue and then slowly downward while the old bed began to move and creak once more like a ship in a high storm.

  Outside, sunlight began to flood the streets and the cries of the hawkers sounded up from the cobbles below Hester's bedroom window. "Lily-white vinegar—Milk-maids below—Buy my artichokes, mistress—Ripe cowcumbers—Ripe speragus." And then a bear-warden came along, leading his dancing bear and beating on his drum.

  Captain Jimmy, hovering on the edge of the cliff of sleep, sat up in alarm as the sound of the drum penetrated into the bedroom.

  " 'Fore George! I march today, Hester!"

  Betty walked slowly under the trees of Hyde Park on the arm of the Duke while the rising sun shone with increasing heat and dried the dew on the grass. Once away from the house and the creaking of Hester's bed, it seemed as if sanity had returned and they walked and talked sedately of this and that and the Duke promised to find a tutor for Simon.

  The sun shone on the pearls threaded in Betty's hair and on the heavy sapphire and gold necklace around her neck and struck green fire from the Duke's emeralds. He felt happy and content in her company and was amazed at the former violence of his feelings.

  It seemed natural now to simply turn and take her in his arms and kiss her, his mouth pressing against the soft trembling lips beneath his. He had held many women in his arms, experienced women trained to respond with passion. But never had he experienced such a wild tumult of emotion as was caused by his lips against those of this young girl. The sky spun above his head as he drew back from her, looking down at. her with something like shock in his green eyes. He could not quite believe that such a gentle innocent had awoken such violence in his breast and therefore it seemed the logical thing to kiss her again just to make sure. And again. And again.

  At last he released her and Betty's wide blue eyes seemed as innocent and as candid as the clear sky above. He realized she was awaiting for him to ask for her hand in marriage. His accursed pride! For the life of him, he could not. He felt unfairly as if she were willing him to ask, so instead of obeying the clamor of his senses which were telling him to take her in his arms again, he said bleakly, "We are both tired, Lady Betty. It is time you were in bed."

  The blue eyes dropped and Betty walked away from him across the grass toward his carriage without waiting for him to accompany her.

  I need not rush into things, he thought. She will wait.

  If he thinks he can dally with me any time he wills it, thought Betty coldly, then he will find he is mistaken. And then she thought miserably, it is because of Hester. Oh, Hester, how could you shame me so? To behave like the veriest trollop!

  As they sat in the carriage, the Duke stared at Betty's averted face, angry with himself and therefore angry with her. She had no right to turn so cold and haughty. She must surely realize the impossible social situation into which her sister's folly had placed her.

  The carriage rumbled from the quiet of the Park and into the clamor of the streets.

  Football seemed to be played everywhere (balls bouncing all over the streets), the air was loud with cries of hawkers and ballad singers, and the rest was the usual melee of herds of cattle, pickpockets, wig-snatchers, drays, coaches and sedans.

  The Duke's footman handed Betty down from the carriage outside her home. He made to follow her but she turned and faced him and swept a very low court curtsy, looking up at him with brilliant hard eyes and a thin smile on those lips which had kissed him so well such a short time ago.

  Then she turned on her heel and walked swiftly into the house, banging the door behind her with a force quite amazing in one who looked so fragile.

  The Duke rapped impatiently on the roof of the coach with his cane to signal the coachman to drive on.

  Be damned to her!

  Chapter Five

  Betty longed even more for Eppington Chase in the following days. Hester refused to talk about the Vauxhall evening but crept around the house looking so quiet and miserable that Betty was forced to think that Captain Dunbray had seduced her and left her.

  It was less shocking for Bella who had seen a lifetime of indiscretions in high society. As long as no one knew about it and there was no baby in the offing, then life could go on as usual.

  But Betty felt lost and uneasy with this new, downcast Hester. She had not realised before how much she had relied on her sister's courage and ebullient spirits to counteract her own shyness. Also, her rage and disappointment with the Duke had faded, leaving behind a dull ache.

  She had seen him at the opera accompanied by a dazzling ladybird and had resolved to find herself a beau as soon as possible to show him that she did not care a rap. But somehow the other young men of the town made her feel gauche and uneasy and at times she marveled that she could have felt so easy and at home in the company of the Duke who was notorious for his stiff manners and awesome air.

  She was further alarmed when Simon, talking about his fright at Vauxhall, had said casually, "I wonder how they knew my name. That woman called me 'Simon.' " She became frightened to leave him even for a minute and Simon, although he was fond of his aunt, began to find life very dull indeed. He was not allowed to ride in the Park any more for fear of an accident, he was not allowed to play more than a few yards away from his aunt.

  He was no longer allowed to go out with his aunts in the evening, but was left at home, guarded by the servants. His schooling had been suspended while Miss Armitage adjusted to her new position of social secretary.

  With all her troubles, Betty found herself more and more in the company of Fanny Bentley. At balls, and parties, Fanny seemed content to sit beside the quiet and retiring Betty, much to her mother's fury. The only time Fanny seemed to come to life was when Sir Anthony Blake walked into the room and Betty realised with a shock that Fanny was hopelessly in love with Sir Anthony. Although she was still suspicious of Fanny since Fanny's new warmth and gentleness and friendship might turn out to be a ruse, she was grateful to have a friend—any friend.

  To date, the only friend she had needed had been her sister, but now Hester shunned balls and parties and kept to her room for most of the day.

  But it was a friendship with secrets on both sides. Betty did not tell Fanny of her fears for Simon's life and Fanny did not tell Betty that her mother had forbidden the friendship and that she, Fanny, had openly defied her.

  The weather had been erratic, cold and blustery and wet with only occasional glimpses of sun.

  But on the day the Duke and Duchess of Ruthfords were to hold their fête champêtre in the Surrey meadows, the sun shone out of a clear blue sky and the day promise
d to be fine and warm. Hester refused point blank to go and took herself off to her room with the morning papers which she studied avidly every day. Simon begged to go and Betty had not the heart to deny him. Fanny Bentley had told her that none of the Bentley family was invited and although Betty knew she would miss Fanny's company, it was comforting to know that she would not need to see Mrs. Bentley's cold, enameled face and curved smile.

  Bella sang as she dressed Betty's hair and placed a pretty Skimmer hat on top of Betty's blond curls. The Skimmer hat was the latest fashion and made of a fabric which shone like silver tinsel. It had a very small flat crown and a big brim. With it she wore a blue silk dress opening over an under-dress of white satin.

  Betty could not resist trying to get Hester to join them, but Hester was adament in her refusal. "I don't enjoy that sort of thing no more," she said bleakly.

  Betty bit her lip. "Hester," she pleaded, "will you not tell me your trouble? Has it . . . has it anything to do with Captain Dunbray?"

  "Don't want to talk," mumbled Hester. "Oh, leave me be and go and flirt with that starched nobody of a Duke who despises us all."

  "There is no need to be cruel just because you are unhappy," said Betty sharply. "Do you not ever consider the disgrace you have brought upon us by your wanton behavior?"

  "Love is not wanton behavior," said Hester savagely. "Don't mince about on ground you do not even begin to understand. You are not of my blood, Betty. You are a cursed Westerby and the only thing that will ever rouse you to passion is that cold heap of stones called Eppington Chase. It will take all your love and finally the breath from your body."

  Betty wrung her hands, staring at the angry, bitter stranger facing her. A stranger who, only such a short time ago, had been friend and sister.

  Still, she opened her mouth to plead again, but Hester roughly pushed her from the room and slammed the door.

  Betty, like most shy people who don't really think much of themselves, could be made to feel guilty very easily.

  Was she really the love child of the old Marquess instead of his stepchild? Often she felt quite bloodless beside the vital and glowing Hester.