by Jane Ashford
“I beg your pardon?” she answered.
“I have it on the best authority that one of you is a great heiress. And since you are Miss Elham, I believe it must be you. Are you not an heiress?”
“I believe I am,” said Elisabeth. The corners of her mouth twitched. “Though it is such a recent occurrence I haven’t become quite used to it. Do you talk only to heiresses?”
“When addressing ladies, I make every effort to do so,” he replied mock-seriously. “My mother is terrified that I will fall in love with a girl with no money and we shall be ruined.” He produced a highly engaging smile. “I am a fortune hunter, you know. I daresay you won’t agree to marry me on such short acquaintance?”
“I will not,” said Elisabeth, her laughter escaping her. “Do you offer for every heiress the moment you meet her?”
“Only if she is exceedingly pretty,” responded Lord James solemnly. “For the plain ones, I have to screw up my courage.”
“And do you tell them all that you’re a fortune hunter?” continued Elisabeth, much amused. “Doesn’t it discourage them?”
Lord Darnell made an airy gesture. “Very rarely. My honesty charms them out of their disapproval. Don’t you find it so?” He gazed at her hopefully.
“Perhaps. But it doesn’t persuade me to marry you.”
He shrugged, grinning. “Yes, that has been the chief obstacle to my progress so far. Most girls find me appealing, but none can be induced to marry. But it does no good to hide the fact that I must marry money, I promise you. I’ve tried, but someone always informs the young lady; and then she feels I’ve deceived her.” He shook his head.
Elisabeth laughed again. “And why, pray, must you marry money? You don’t look to be starving. Or even particularly indigent.”
He seemed offended. “Well, you can’t suppose I’d enter a lady’s drawing room dressed in rags. And in any case, I come from a very fine old family; I mustn’t disgrace my ancestors.” He grinned once more. “Even if they were all so dashed improvident as to leave me without a groat and the estates in the hands of the bankers.”
“I see,” said Elisabeth. “That was too bad of them.”
“Wasn’t it?” he said agreeably. “But I mean to put everything right by snagging a rich wife.”
“A laudable ambition,” Elisabeth remarked. “I’m sorry I must disappoint you.”
“Oh, I haven’t given up. I shall make a determined effort.”
“Now you’ve put me on my guard.”
He laughed. “It shall be a contest between us. I’d wager a hundred pounds on my chances if I could find anyone to take the odds.” He grinned. “Or lend me the blunt.”
“You are a gambler, Lord Darnell?”
“Lord, yes. It’s in the blood. M’grandfather once lost five thousand pounds on a duck he backed to outrun a parson’s goose. And my father spent so much time at the tables that they called him ‘Black Jack Darnell.’”
“Quite scandalous.”
“I suppose so. But dashed romantic, don’t you think?”
Elisabeth laughed and shook her head. “I must speak to my other guest,” was her only reply. She turned to the duke. He was talking to Belinda with every appearance of enjoyment.
“There are fireworks, you know,” he was saying. “And lanterns hung in the trees, making it look quite exquisite. The ham is excessively good, too.” He noticed that Elisabeth was also listening to him. “I have been telling your cousin about the delights of Vauxhall,” he said to her. “I am trying to persuade her to join a party I’m getting up to go there next Tuesday week.”
“I swear he had no such idea until he saw your cousin,” murmured Lord Darnell, almost inaudibly.
“It sounds heavenly, doesn’t it, Cousin Elisabeth?” put in Belinda. “Do say we will go.” She looked at Elisabeth eagerly, an imperative command in her eyes.
Elisabeth smiled. “Certainly, if you would like to, we can.” Belinda clapped her hands.
“You won’t be so shabby as to leave me out, I hope, John,” said Lord Darnell, and he was assured that he was also invited.
At that moment, Cousin Lavinia hurried into the room. “I beg pardon,” she said breathlessly. “But I have only just this minute discovered we had callers. And Judith’s son among them.” The duke rose politely, and Lavinia rushed over to him. “How do you do. I am so pleased to meet you. I am a relict of your mother’s, you know.”
The duke looked rather confused, but murmured a polite greeting.
“Oh, yes, Judith and I were friends even before she met your father, when you weren’t even a conception.”
Elisabeth heard a choking sound from the gentleman beside her. “Come and sit down, Cousin Lavinia. I sent Ames to fetch you when our callers arrived, but he couldn’t find you.”
“I was writing a note in the breakfast room. He didn’t think to look there, I suppose. Indeed, I almost never sit in the breakfast room. But the sun was coming in so prettily this morning that I thought I would just write my letters there, you know, after Betty cleared up. And I became so engrossed in telling Mrs. Simpson, one of my fellow lodgers, you know, or former fellow lodgers I should say, about meeting Judith again that I quite lost track of the time.” She turned back to the duke. “You are the image of your mother, I declaim. I should have known you for Judith’s son anywhere.”
“Th-thank you,” responded the duke, obviously at a loss.
Elisabeth intervened once more. “The duke has very kindly invited us to join his party at Vauxhall Gardens in a few days,” she told Lavinia.
“Oh, we shall be delighted,” responded that lady brightly.
“You honor me by accepting,” said the duke rather ponderously. His unease under Lavinia’s barrage of chatter was clear, and now he looked toward Darnell. “I think we had better go now. James?”
“Oh, yes.” Lord Darnell was looking highly amused. “I shall look forward to seeing you soon then, ladies.” Elisabeth rose to escort them to the stairs, and as they went out, Lord Darnell murmured in her ear, “Wherever did you find your delightful dragon?” Elisabeth frowned and shook her head warningly, but he only laughed.
Belinda and Lavinia discussed the duke for some time; both, it seemed, had been struck by his impeccable manners and air. Elisabeth admitted to herself that she found his friend infinitely more amusing and interesting. Of first proposals of marriage, she thought to herself, hers must certainly rank among the most original.
Eight
At nine the following evening, all Elisabeth’s cousins stood before her in the drawing room, ready to set out for the Wincannons’ evening party. Elisabeth surveyed them with some pride as they waited for the carriage to be brought round. Great changes had been wrought in the past few weeks. Anthony’s tall rangy frame was clothed in a dark blue coat from Weston which fitted him admirably and complemented his fair coloring. His pantaloons were fawn-colored and also fitted him well. If his shirt points were a trifle crumpled and his waistcoat a bit too arresting for Elisabeth’s taste, she knew better than to mention it. And in any case, he’d done very well for a young gentleman thrown on his own resources in the matter of dress.
Belinda looked dazzling in a gown of the palest possible blue muslin. The delicacy of the color and the simple style she’d created set off her beauty to perfection. Her blond hair was dressed in ringlets about her face, and she carried a filmy wrap. The overall impression was of pastel fragility; Elisabeth thought, a bit guiltily, that she looked exactly like a Dresden shepherdess Miss Creedy had kept in her drawing room. Cousin Lavinia wore one of her new dresses, a lavender crepe, and she had produced a stunning cameo brooch and a pair of silver bracelets from her jewel box. She looked very well and extremely pleased with herself.
When Ames came in to tell them the carriage was ready, Elisabeth glanced quickly at her own reflection in the drawing room mirror. She had
chosen a peach-colored crepe which complemented her honey-toned hair and warm complexion. Its tiny puffed sleeves showed her arms to advantage, and she’d had Ketchem do her hair in a knot on top of her head once again. She wore a string of pearls as her only jewelry. All in all, she thought to herself as they descended the stairs, a rather fine-looking group.
An elegant crowd already filled the Wincannons’ drawing room when they arrived. Belinda joined Amelia and a circle of her young friends, and after a moment Tony followed her. Elisabeth saw that they were being introduced, then turned to find the viscountess approaching. She greeted her warmly and presented Lavinia.
“I see Belinda and the young man I assume must be her brother have taken care of themselves,” said Lady Larenby. “Come, I want to introduce you to some of my guests.”
The two cousins followed her across the room, and the viscountess began presenting them to a number of ladies who sat there. Elisabeth soon realized that her hostess was seeing to it that she met all the mothers who were bringing daughters out this season. She smiled to herself; they would certainly receive as many invitations as they could wish after this. She was then presented to the Viscount Larenby and was left to chat with him. The viscount was a tall dark man, like his son, though somewhat more slender. His hair was touched with gray here and there, and his eyes were more green than blue, but otherwise he much resembled Derek. He smiled at Elisabeth admiringly and with what she thought was curiosity. “So you are to be our new neighbor at Willowmere?” he said. “We must congratulate ourselves on gaining such a fair addition.”
“I perceive you are a flatterer, sir,” laughed Elisabeth.
“Not I. I leave that to the young men.” He looked at her. “Like my son,” he added.
Elisabeth felt her cheeks grow slightly hot. “Your son doesn’t seem a man who pays compliments,” she answered.
“Well, no,” he agreed amiably, “he never has been. Quite the contrary, in fact. But there’s no saying when he might change.”
Elisabeth could think of no reply, and in a moment, the viscount turned the conversation into easier channels. “You’re having work done on Willowmere, I understand?” he asked her.
Elisabeth nodded. “Though I fear it will be some time before I can officially take up residence.”
“I can readily believe it. Your uncle neglected the place shockingly. I spoke to him about it once. But I made no impression, except to anger him.”
“Did you know him, then?” asked Elisabeth interestedly. “You’re the first person I’ve met who was actually acquainted with him. Except my father, of course, and he rarely spoke of his family.”
The viscount smiled. “I knew him to bow to in the street,” he answered. “But Anthony Elham did not encourage any of his fellow men to know him. He was an odd creature.”
“So I have heard. But I wish I’d met him in spite of that.”
“You might feel differently if you’d been unceremoniously put out of his house. Yes, and had a pitcher of milk hurled after you.”
Amusement lit Elisabeth’s violet eyes, and they sparkled irresistibly. She raised her eyebrows in a question.
“Yes, that happened to me,” continued Lord Larenby. “I admit it was the second time I called. He evidently did not approve of me on the occasion of my first visit.” His eyes twinkled. “I’d told him that if he didn’t do something about Willowmere a neighborhood committee would take him to law. But nothing ever came of it.”
Elisabeth laughed aloud. “Oh, how I wish I might have seen it.”
At that moment, a voice behind her said, “If you set yourself to charm all the pretty girls, Father, we younger men may as well give over. We’ll never be able to cut you out.”
Elisabeth turned to greet Derek Wincannon, who smiled down at her warmly. He met his father’s eyes with an echo of the twinkle in them.
“What do you say?” continued Derek. “Will you not retire from the field and give the next generation a chance?”
The viscount laughed. “Indeed. I know that none of you young here-and-there-ians are up to my weight.” He turned back to Elisabeth. “I’m delighted to have met you, Miss Elham. I hope we can talk again later in the evening.” He bowed slightly and walked away.
Elisabeth looked up at Derek Wincannon. “I was quite enjoying my conversation with your father,” she told him.
“I could see that,” he said. “But I couldn’t allow him to monopolize you. I’m too selfish.”
“London is certainly a very odd sort of place,” Elisabeth replied. “People begin detailing their faults on the slightest pretext.”
Her companion laughed. “What makes you say that?”
“Why, you have already told me that you are selfish and intolerant of bores,” she answered. “And without my showing the slightest inclination to accuse you of such things, I think. And only yesterday I met a young man who confessed to being a fortune hunter before I had talked to him five minutes.”
He frowned. “Who might that have been?”
“Lord James Darnell,” she replied.
“Ah. Well, it is true, the Darnells are all to pieces. But I didn’t know James went about proclaiming it.”
“Oh, indeed. He first made sure that I was truly an heiress, then he promptly made me an offer.”
Mr. Wincannon appeared to be torn between amusement and outrage. “He did not?”
“Oh, yes,” Elisabeth assured him airily. “He told me that he often does so.”
“What a ramshackle young coxcomb he must be.”
“Is he not a friend of yours?”
“No,” he replied, surprised. “I hardly know him. Did he say so?”
“Oh, no, it was my own notion. You see, Lord Darnell is one of the least boring men I have ever met. I thought you must have sought him out here now.”
“Perhaps I should,” responded Derek with a frown. “You seem quite taken with him.”
“I found him outrageously amusing. He is certainly most unlike his friend the Duke of Sherbourne. Can it be true, do you think, that his father lost five thousand pounds betting on a duck?”
Her companion gave a crack of laughter. “What, the old duke? Absolutely not. He was as much of a slowtop as John.”
“No, no. Lord Darnell’s father. Or was it his grandfather? I’ve forgotten.”
“It might have been either. All the Darnells are gamesters. Did James tell you of it?”
She nodded. “He said they called his father, I’m certain it was his father this time, ‘Black Jack.’”
“I can see you’re quite fascinated by Lord Darnell,” he answered dryly. ‘I should advise you to take care. He would game away your fortune in a year.”
“What a shabby thing to say! I was merely repeating some amusing stories, and you take me up quite ruthlessly. I see how it is now. You may say what you please to me, even call my cousin a ninny if you like. But when I respond in kind, you fly up into the boughs. How unfair.”
He was looking down at her appreciatively. “Does it seem so to you? I must apologize, then. The two things do not appear at all the same to me.”
“I think I should go and see how Belinda and Tony are getting on,” was Elisabeth’s only reply.
His eyes twinkled. “I’m not to be forgiven all at once, I see. Very well. I’ll take you to them.” He offered his arm. “Young Tony has done rather well for himself thus far. Shall I put his name up for my club, do you think?”
Forgetting that she was supposed to be angry, Elisabeth stopped and turned to him. “Oh, could you do so?” she asked eagerly. “I’ve been rather worried about Tony. I don’t know what is the best way for him to go on, and he has no one else to give him a hint. If you would befriend him, why then…” She remembered her annoyance suddenly. “But I daresay you would find that excessively boring.”
Mr. Wincannon’s eyes contin
ued to register amusement. “I might,” he conceded, “though he seems a bright enough lad. I’ll keep an eye out to see that he doesn’t come a cropper, if you like.”
They’d nearly reached the group including Tony, and Elisabeth had only time to say “thank you.” But her anger had disappeared, and she felt quite kindly disposed toward her companion.
Mr. Wincannon excused himself from joining the younger group, and Elisabeth could soon see why. Belinda and Anthony eagerly introduced her to a number of very young persons of both sexes, and made every effort to include her in their conversation. But the talk was exceedingly dull, limited to the parties they had attended, horses, and juvenile flirtation. Elisabeth was soon looking about for some means of escape. She saw Cousin Lavinia talking to a gentleman across the room, and she excused herself to join them, though no one appeared to take the least notice.
Lavinia received her excitedly. “Only fancy, Elisabeth,” she said. “Mr. Jarrett was a friend of my brother William. Is that not astringent? They were in the same regiment. Though Mr. Jarrett was not at Salamanca. I thought, you know, that he might tell me…but of course no one can blame him for selling out. If only William had done so, indeed, he might be here with us tonight. He never did care for parties, but I daresay he might have changed a great deal as he grew older.” She caught Elisabeth’s eye. “Oh, Mr. Jarrett, this is my cousin, Elisabeth Elham. Mr. George Jarrett, my dear.”
Elisabeth inclined her head. Mr. Jarrett appeared to be between thirty and forty years of age. Though not more than an inch taller than Elisabeth, he was stocky, and powerful arms and shoulders showed beneath his coat. His complexion was vivid, apparently burned by the sun rather than naturally ruddy, and his hair sandy red. His upper lip boasted a small neat mustache, unusual in a time when clean-shaven faces were the rule, and his eyes, looking out from under thick sandy brows, were sharp but peculiarly colorless, of a gray so pale as to be almost white. They stood out boldly against his skin. His dress was quiet, not at all shabby but with no pretensions to elegance or fashion. His face showed deep lines about the mouth and around the eyes, reflecting, Elisabeth imagined, past hardship and an ironic temper.
