The Gaslight Journal

by Carla René

  “Mm. I agree. And what of Miss Hastings! Is the story he told you actually true? Has she wrapped herself up in the wrong sort?”

  “I wish I knew. She used to share everything with me. And now, the only thing she shares is my affections for Mr. Whentworth.

  Mrs. Aitchison’s eyes seemed to dance. “Perhaps there is something I can do for you. But we have to work quickly.”

  For the next few moments, the two new intimates literally had their heads together, chatting in staccato bursts, and very excited hushed tones. After ten minutes, the women had settled on a plan of attack, and they were both very happy with its results.

  The ballroom’s dance floor found Mr. Whentworth deep in concentration on a set of drawn, red-velvet drapes leading into a tiny room just off the location of the banquet table. He was certain he had seen Miss Audley enter there a while ago, but so far, he had not seen her exit, and had to admit that he now found himself concerned.

  This did not make his companion for the evening in the least happy, and Miss Hastings took the opportunity to tell him her feelings on the matter. “Mr. Whentworth, are you unwell?”

  He turned from his daydream to address Miss Hastings. “I assure you, lovely lady, all is well. And what of you? Would you like a cold drink, now that we have been dancing so long?” He was now looking for any open excuse he could find in order to position himself closer to that little room.

  “As a matter of fact, sir, I am quite thirsty; a cold drink would be superb. I will accompany you to the banquet table.”

  “No!” His reply was so quick that it startled even him. “I mean, no thank-you, Miss Hastings. You need to sit and cool yourself. Do not be troubled with handling the crowd. Wait right over there, and I will return presently with your drink.”

  “Thank-you, so much. You are a kind soul. I will be just over here.”

  He did not wait to make sure she arrived at her designated chair before he was striding with purpose to the banquet table. He quickly poured two glasses of iced spiced punch, but set them down on the edge of the long table in order to move closer for a better vantage point. He now knew there were people in there, for he could hear whispering, but, much to his chagrin, could not make out what they were saying, or even if one of the persons was, indeed, Miss Audley.

  Suddenly, someone approached him from behind. “May I help you?”

  Mr. Whentworth turned quickly, and found himself face-to-face with Mrs. Aitchison. He cleared his throat.

  “I meant no intrusion.”

  She said, “And you are?”

  He took her hand, and bowed slightly in greeting. “Do forgive me; I am Thomas Whentworth, III. So pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Ah, Mr. Whentworth! Finally, we meet at last. I have heard so many wonderful things about you from your dear Mother.” She smiled.

  “All good, I hope,” he said, with a devilish grin.

  “Most definitely. Your mother is quite proud of you, and for good reason. Are you enjoying your time here at the Ball?”

  “I am, thank-you for asking.”

  “We have quite a few attendees; it truly is wonderful.”

  “Looks as if it will, again, be the social event of the season.”

  “Do forgive me for asking, but was there someone you were seeking earlier at the curtain?”

  Mr. Whentworth was certain he could feel himself blush, so unexpected was the question. Flustered, he had to invent a suitable answer that would not give him away. “Oh, no, not really—I just thought I had seen a friend enter and was going to offer my greetings.”

  Mrs. Aitchison’s face brightened. “Excellent! Tell me who it is, and I will tell you if they have arrived.” She fought the urge to laugh.

  Again, Mr. Whentworth felt flustered and unsure how to answer. “Oh, no one in particular.”

  “Hmmn. Are you certain? I mean, it seems rather silly to follow someone to a room, if you are not sure you do not know them, and they are no one in particular, would you not agree?” She was loving watching him squirm.

  He laughed an uneasy laugh. “I suppose you could be right. Well, do excuse me, but I must deliver these drinks to my companion. So nice speaking to you.”

  But his hasty exit was thwarted. “Mr. Whentworth, please accompany me, now.”

  Her voice was so stern, he dared not argue, and found himself winding his way through the great mansion’s hallways and corridors until they exited into a back garden. It was generously lit with flaming torches, and the orange glow cast ghostly shadows across the snow; each one of them dancing to the flicker of the flames.

  They continued down a cleared path, passing enormous containers of winter plants along the way. Mr. Whentworth attempted to inquire of their whereabouts, but she remained silent and continued to walk.

  Finally they entered a clearing, guarded on both sides of its entrance with low brick walls and large cedar trees.

  Just beyond the wall, his companion stopped. She turned and pulled one of the torches from the holder on the wall, and handed it to Mr. Whentworth.

  “Will you kindly tell me what I am doing here in the snow now? My companion… ”

  “… will be just fine, I will see to that.”

  “But you do not even know her… ”

  “I do, and she will be fine. Right now, there is someone waiting to see you.”

  “Who? Why? I do not understand.”

  She smiled. “All will be revealed in time, Mr. Whentworth. Do have a good evening,” and she turned before he could say any more to her.

  He felt a little foolish at standing in a snowy garden on Christmas night, holding a single torch and never knowing in a lifetime who he was ordered to meet, but, he honored the wishes of Mrs. Aitchison and began looking around for this awaiting stranger.

  He walked slowly forward, unsure of his footing, but while searching his surroundings for any sign of life. The garden was breathtaking, even in the dark. Directly in front of him was a large, concrete garden fountain, that, in spite of the cold, continued to trickle and provide the most soothing tinkling sound. The torches around it shone brightly into the water, and their reflection lit the way so he could see more clearly. He continued around the fountain and deeper into the unknown, all the while periodically holding the torch in front of him to light his path. Just as he was convinced that he had been sent on a wild goose-chase, he heard the snow crunch behind him, and he turned.

  There stood Izzy, looking most delicious in her white winter wrap and muff. She was smiling at Mr. Whentworth, but did not move or say anything.

  At first his heart leapt at the sight of her, but then he reeled himself back. Why should he subject himself to more of her intrigues as happened earlier today? He decided to stay aloof and he turned from her.

  She remained still and did not move.

  This unnerved him, and he finally turned back toward her. “Woman? What are you doing? And why will you not say something; anything?”

  She had to admit that she was enjoying watching his anxiety a little too much. She whispered to him, forcing him closer. “Mr. Whentworth, I owe you an apology.”

  He was so stunned he snapped up to look at her face, searching for any signs of deceit. But when he found none, he said, “Why would you apologize? You were certain you had done nothing wrong.”

  “I was also certain a large portion of what happened earlier could have been blamed on both of us.”

  He considered this. “Yes, well, I suppose you could be right about that.”

  “Oh, I am right—there is no question. You certainly could have told me what you hinted at, if you had truly wanted me to know. But instead, you quarreled, and you made me cry.”

  Mr. Whentworth lowered his head in shame. “Miss Audley, you are entirely correct. I did cause you pain with my childish behavior, and for that, I am truly, deeply sorry.”

  Izzy stepped closer to him. “And what are we going to do about it, Mr. Whentworth?”

  He could clearly not stan
d anymore, and took a step closer to her. “Oh, Miss Audley, I love you so much!”

  The two embraced in a ravenous kiss, fully impassioned, since they were certain no one would be watching them in the solitary garden, and wasted no time in repairing the evening’s earlier damage.

  Suddenly, Mr. Whentworth pulled back from Izzy, and proclaimed, “But wait! We simply cannot do this!”

  Chapter 27

  At Day's End

  At Day’s End (Chapter Twenty-Seven)

  Izzy looked him directly in the eyes. “What do you mean, Mr. Whentworth?”

  “Miss Hastings! I am her escort for this evening! I cannot abandon her, I just cannot do it. I will not.”

  Izzy calmed him. “Ssshhh, my love. All is taken care of.”

  Mr. Whentworth studied her face for an answer. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

  Izzy draped her arms around Mr. Whentworth’s neck. “Oh, dearest, trust me when I say, Miss Hastings will have all the attention she deserves very soon.”

  Back in the great hall, the dance was in full swing again, and the room was full of merry-making and laughter. Of course, it was also not without its share of gossip. Many of the young ladies, too bashful to dance, or without proper escorts, entertained themselves with bits of gossip about their neighbor, or other acquaintance. And invariably, the topic would always return, no matter what group it was, to the Audleys and the sudden, rash appearance at the ball by Miss Isabella Audley. How dare she? Why does she want to further discredit her family’s poor reputation in this manner? Why would she want to behave thus?

  That evening, there was certainly no lack of speculation as to the circumstances of the Audleys.

  And at the front of it all, was none other than her most intimate friend, Miss Rachel Hastings.

  “Oh, please do not think me unkind. I have it on good authority that Miss Audley was simply too embarrassed to attend this evening’s function, especially once she found out that Mr. Whentworth had asked to be my escort! That is correct—he asked me. Oh, dear me. I was more surprised than anyone when he approached me about this evening. What a dear, sweet soul he is!”

  “But where is he, then?”

  Miss Hastings looked around. “He went to retrieve us a cold drink—he will be returning shortly. I am sure he was distracted by some old acquaintance. You know that everyone who is anyone is here tonight. Oh, how very exciting!”

  Again, her eyes scanned the crowd, but upon seeing no sign of Mr. Whentworth, she could not allow concern to show; not especially to her adoring peers who were captivated with her every word.

  “So, Miss Hastings, do you think you will continue seeing Mr. Whentworth after the ball?”

  Miss Hastings was more than happy to answer. “Most certainly! Mr. Whentworth has implied that he would like nothing better than for us to become intimates. In fact,” and she said the next part behind a gloved hand in a whisper, “I would not be surprised if an understanding were coming forth any day now.”

  The crowd of awe-struck girls enjoined their proper responses of oohs and aahs, and Miss Hastings found herself to be completely in Heaven. Perhaps, it was an audience she had needed all this time, rather than a male companion to make her feel such complete happiness.

  The group of girls continued to speculate.

  “I heard that she could not find an escort.”

  “I heard that she was unable to garner an invitation to begin with!”

  “Someone told me that she had hurled horrible accusations at Mr. Whentworth when he informed her he absolutely refused to accompany her to the dance.”

  “Is this true, Miss Hastings?”

  “Yes! Is it true? Please, do not keep us in suspense.”

  Just as Miss Hastings was about to respond, she heard an unfamiliar voice join in. “Yes, Miss Hastings, do not keep us in suspense, please.”

  Miss Hastings turned, and standing before her was Mrs. Aitchison.

  A gentleman to Miss Hastings’s right and Mrs. Aitchison’s left, did the introductions, and each of the ladies bowed their expected curtsy to the other.

  After the pleasantries, Mrs. Aitchison said, “Miss Hastings, would you take a turn with me around the hall?” Without giving Rachel the opportunity to answer, she had grabbed Rachel by the elbow and was leading her away from the crowd, all with a smile.

  When the two women neared the banquet table, they stopped, as Mrs. Aitchison informed the attendant that she would love a cold drink. When Rachel refused the drink proffered her, Mrs. Aitchison took a long sip from her drink before continuing.

  This cool and easy demeanor from the woman began to unnerve Rachel and she felt her weight shifting from one leg to the next.

  Mrs. Aitchison, however, seemed not to notice and continued to drink until her glass was empty. She thanked the attendant, and then turned back to Rachel. “So, Miss Hastings. Tell me. Are you having a nice time?”

  Rachel swallowed hard before choosing her words carefully. “Yes, I am. You have a lovely home.”

  Mrs. Aitchison smiled, but ignored the diversion. “So tell me, dear. Did you come alone?”

  Rachel was glad to talk of Mr. Whentworth and happily volunteered the information. “Not at all! I am here with Mr. Whentworth. In fact, he was just here, retrieving a cold drink for the both of us.” She began scanning the crowds for his face, but frowned when she could not find him. “Well, that is strange. He was just here. I wonder to where he has retreated.”

  “I am certain I saw him in the garden earlier. Would you like for me to take you to him?”

  Rachel brightened. “Why, yes! That would be lovely.”

  Meanwhile, in the garden, Mr. Whentworth and Isabella were still embracing, enjoying their reunion.

  “Promise me, dear Miss Audley, that you will never depart from me again.”

  Izzy, too happy to argue, agreed.

  He brushed a lock of her chestnut hair from her face, and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

  “Just think: when we are married, I will be able to touch and kiss you anytime I wish.”

  “Is that so, Mr. Whentworth?”

  He nuzzled her cheek, and whispered into her ear, “It is, and you will have no say in the matter.”

  Her spirits soared. “I do not believe I will want to contradict you.”

  Realizing that the hour was getting late, Izzy reluctantly pulled back from him, and he groaned in displeasure. “I know, sweetheart, but I must discuss something with you, for I have but little time.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “What?”

  “Is that not how our last row began, nearly getting my head crushed with one of your crystal vases?”

  “Oh, that. Think of it as training for keeping your sharpened wits for when we are finally married.”

  Her response was so unexpected, he had to laugh out loud.

  Afraid their impending guests may hear them, she immediately shushed him. “Please, listen to me. We have not much time before they arrive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dearest, I am afraid Miss Hastings has been deceiving you all this time.”

  He stopped cold and listened. “Go on.”

  “Well, it appears, as I have learned, from a most reliable source, that she has been tricking you into spending time with her.”

  He could not contain his shock. “How did you find this out? And from whom?”

  “Well, upon my arrival this evening, I bumped into Mrs. Aitchison. At first she was kind and benevolent, and then she asked me to leave, which left me livid, until the topic turned to you, accidentally, and then the matter was set. Suddenly, she did not care how society dictated that she should treat me—her only concern was in listening to my tale of how we have been in love for all these years, and stubbornly denying it. When she asked me why I was not presently with you tonight, I explained about Miss Hastings’s circumstance and in you offering, as a favor to her mother, to be her escort so as to protect her family name and reputation, as wel
l as for Miss Hastings’s safety. It was then that she told me some very interesting news, and I learned the truth of the matter.”

  “Please! Do tell me! What have I been missing?”

  “As a matter of fact, it happened this way… ”

  The two continued talking in hushed tones, and five minutes later when they heard footsteps coming closer in the crunching snow, Izzy had conveyed the whole of the matter to him.

  Mr. Whentworth agreed to keep a calm head so their little intrigue would do its trick and then hide out of sight until the proper time.

  Within seconds, two figures from the direction of the house emerged from the shadows and into the glow of the torches Mrs. Aitchison was on the left, and Hiss Hastings on the right. When Rachel saw Izzy, her face lit up and she feigned interest. “Miss Audley! How wonderful of you to make it! Oh, I was so afraid that you might not be able to attend, and well, we have been missing each other in public so often, that it is just so good to see you.”

  When she moved toward Izzy to offer a hug, Izzy stood still and coldly accepted, but did not move to return it.

  Rachel, however, did not even notice and if she did, she was not calling attention to it. “I am afraid you just missed Mr. Whentworth, however. He wanted to make sure I was well taken care of, and so escorted me back to my chair along the dance floor while he went to get us cold drinks. But when I return to the hall, I will tell him that you sent your best.”

  Izzy stifled a laugh. “Well, that is very kind of you. Are you having a good evening, then?”

  “Oh, my, yes. He has been the most attentive companion, checking on my welfare, never wanting to leave my side—unless it is just absolutely necessary. All in all, the perfect gentleman.”

  Again, Izzy could hardly contain her mirth. “Well, that truly is wonderful, Miss Hastings!”

  “Now, it is Rachel. You know that. Since when did you feel the need to become so formal with your best friend?”

  Izzy had to ignore this. “So, tell me. Do you think you will continue seeing Mr. Whentworth after the ball? It seems to be all that anyone is presently discussing.”