“Dear Edgar, I have burdened you with much,” said Burke affectionately. “You will find yourself adopting half of London!”
“I wish I could,” said the pastor sombrely. “What misery we have uncovered in this search. It is more than I ever learned of, even in my years of working in slum areas.” He sighed deeply, and his kind face was wrinkled with worry.
Burke found himself studying him sharply. Was he good enough for gentle, innocent Viola? Yes, he thought he was. He had known the man several years, and found no malice or evil in him. And he was a strong man, one whom others leaned upon, and he bore their burdens and advised them well. With his sermons, his strength, he could have purchased an expensive living, and become the unctuous adviser of wealthy persons in high places. Instead, he had seized upon the opportunity to work in the country-living Burke had offered, among simple peasants.
“I would speak with you upon another matter,” said Burke. He swung around to face Edgar, who set down his papers to listen. His gentle brown eyes came to study Burke’s face, in turn. “You know I am much concerned about young Sandy and Viola. And Lesley is deeply worried about them both. We cannot have them returned to the Stukelys.”
“No, no, not if we can prevent it,” said Edgar. “Young Sandy is too fine a lad to be so crushed. And Viola...” His face softened, he smiled as though in fond remembrance. “She is altogether good and fine, with a beautiful soul as well as a beautiful face. She must not be spoiled by them, and ruined. No, that would be wasting the good of the earth, the finest flowers flung away. We cannot let that happen.”
Burke tapped the desk with his long fingers. He had never done matchmaking, he found himself uncomfortable in the role, yet it must be done.
“Lesley and I have considered seriously how to protect Viola. The best way will be to have her become engaged to be married quite soon, to a good man who can stand beside her. If there is any danger of her being taken back by the Stukelys, then a quick marriage can be settled, and her person and fortunes transferred at once to that man. Do you not agree?”
Edgar studied him carefully, then his whimsical humour peeped through. “I would only agree if that so good man were to be myself!” He began to smile. “Dare I hope that is your intention?”
Burke relaxed with relief. “Yes, it is! I think you are most fond of Viola...”
“I love her deeply,” said Edgar solemnly. “I do not know how it happened. It seemed to come upon me all at once. I met her, admired her loveliness, then spoke with her. Her charm is not a surface matter, it comes from deep within a worthy and good soul. It is not often one can say a person is as good as she is beautiful. It is so with Viola. Her sweetness is untainted by greed or evil. Her concern for others is wholly inspired by her love of God. The only worry I had was that she might need to marry high for reasons of her fortune. Had you considered that in depth, Burke?”
“Yes. I think Viola is more likely to be happy in marriage to someone of your ilk,” said Burke. “She has no love for society, I do not wish her to remain long in it, for fear of spoiling that innocent faith in humanity. One cannot remain near filth without being infected by it. I am most dissatisfied with our position here, and mean to remove again to the country before long. Lesley has seen too much these weeks of the London dregs. I wish to take her away, as soon as Sandy is located and entrusted to us.”
“That is a very good idea. But ... of Viola...” he added eagerly. “Would you truly entrust her to me?”
“If that is her wish,” said Burke, and they shook hands on it.
In the next few days, Viola and Edgar spoke to each other of the matter, and were soon glowing with their happiness. Lesley had ascertained that Viola’s gentle heart was in the possession of Reverend Creswick, and she certainly had his.
“If it would not rush you, I think we must plan an engagement dinner soon,” said Burke to them all. His gaze lingered on Lesley at the dinner table, gracing the foot of his table. “Lesley, could we plan one for a week on Tuesday? I think we should invite the Stukelys ...”
She put her hand to her breast, where the ruby heart sparkled on the white silk. “Oh, Burke ... so soon ... and those people here?” she whispered.
“We need not have an elaborate occasion,” said Viola quickly. “Lesley is weary...”
Burke shook his head. “Your hearts are decided. We must send a notice to the gazettes, for the reasons I have given you. And this will underline our seriousness, our joy for you. With a public display of your engagement, gifts beginning to come in, your ring on Viola’s finger, Edgar ... I think we shall convince the world and the Stukelys that you are serious.”
“If it will do any good, I will consent to your plan,” said Lesley quickly. “I did not mean to object, dear Burke,” she added with a wistful smile. “I know you plan for our good.”
His heart beat more quickly at her “dear Burke”, though she uttered it unconsciously. Even better, he thought, that she would say it spontaneously.
“It will be work for you, though I am certain the housekeeper will assist you in every way possible. Perhaps Mrs Meredith will also consent to aiding us, she is so skilled in practical matters and is so fond of you. Let us keep the list small and select, perhaps about thirty persons.”
They discussed the matter and worked out the guest list. Mrs Meredith suggested several other persons who were in society, and gossips who could be counted upon to spread the word throughout London.
Burke was relieved also that Lesley became so busy with preparing for the event, that she allowed him to go out alone in the carriage on his daily vigil of searching for Sandy. He hated for her to see the gloomy and disagreeable sights that greeted them whenever they went searching. So he went out, Edgar remained at home to deal with any clues offered by pickpockets, petty thieves, dodgers, sellers of lavender or flowers, pawnbrokers, small shop-owners. All London must know by now that the Penhallows were searching for their nephew, a lad of six years with red hair and grey eyes.
The evening came, and the guests began to arrive. Burke had returned late, and dressed hastily in his finery, an elegant blue silk suit with white lawn shirt and falls of white lace. With it he wore his rubies, in studs and waistcoat trim.
When he was ready, he went to Lesley’s bedroom. Netta was finishing her hair, it was coiled on top of her head in red-gold shining order. Only a few curls were allowed to fall on the white neck and about the small ears. She was enchanting in a blue silk slip with an overdress of white lace, the short sleeves and the hem trimmed with rich blonde lace of cockleshell design.
Lesley smiled at him shyly as he entered. She reached for her ruby pendant and set that about her throat, where it fell between her full breasts, in the décolletage. She set the ruby earrings in her small ears, and donned the matching bracelet and large ring. “Too much?” she asked anxiously.
“No, you look magnificent!” He was proud of her, she was so lovely, such a fine woman, a good hostess, with a quick mind, courtesy, manners. He would always be proud of her, she could never disgrace him. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
She gave him a keen look. “You look weary, Burke. Did you have any time to rest?”
He shook his head. “I am not so tired as I am discouraged,” he admitted impulsively. “All this time, and not a clue. But we will persist,” he added quickly, sorry he had spoken as a shadow came over her face.
She shook her head, blindly, tears came to her grey eyes. “I feel it almost ... wrong ... to be gay, to dress up, and laugh, while he ... he may be...”
“Now, now, Miss Lesley,” scolded Netta, with the familiarity of long knowledge. “You’ll have a good time tonight, and forget your worries. Sure, that lad will turn up sunny and bright, just like he was! He’s such a smart lad, that one. I’ll warrant you’ll have him back soon.”
Her hearty words seemed to cheer Lesley. She nodded and wiped away the tears. “And I am happy for Viola, she is so joyous and Edgar is such a fine man.”
�
�Sure, the lady is safe with that gentleman. Miss Viola has a good man,” said Netta with a sharp, pleased nod.
Burke offered Lesley his arm as she stood. She took it, with no show of the reluctance she had once felt, and they went down the stairs together. Her small blue silk shoes showed below the hem of her gown, she moved gracefully into the large drawing room prepared for their guests. Silver trays stood in the hallways, ready for the footmen to carry about with savouries and drinks.
Viola rustled in with Edgar. She was beautiful in white silk with an overdress of blue lace, in a design much like Lesley’s. The resemblance of the girls was strong, as she had done her hair in the same style, with her lighter red-gold hair in ringlets about her face. The blue eyes were set off by her sapphires, none of which sparkled more beautifully than her eyes.
Edgar was dressed simply in one of his dark pastor’s garments, but his face was radiant. He needed not an elegant waistcoat of silver or gold threads to set him off, nor high Hessian boots. He had a natural dignity such as Beau Brummell lauded.
Burke looked about the drawing rooms carefully, but had no criticism to make. Mrs Meredith and Lesley had arranged the flowers, procured from the flower sellers. The tall Chinese vases of blue and white were filled with autumn flowers of scarlet gladioli, tall red poppies, blue larkspur, and yellow mums. Candles in silver holders were of red or blue. The draperies had been freshly changed to the winter ones, of deep red velvet, with fresh white curtains to set them off.
Guests began to arrive, and soon the house was teeming with them. Burke and Lesley stood in the reception line, introducing them all to Viola and to Edgar, and to Mrs Meredith as chaperon to Viola today.
Viola received their best wishes with a blush and becoming modesty. Her happiness shone through her shyness. Edgar was manly and frank, smiling often, turning to take Viola’s hand, with the sparkling diamond on it, and press it.
It was almost eight o’clock when they went in to dinner. Lesley turned to Burke. “The Stukelys have not arrived,” she whispered, worried.
He was lifting his shoulders in a shrug — his happiness would not be marred by their absence — when the butler announced them.
“Mr and Mrs Hubert Stukely!”
Felicia entered first, as the butler spoke another name. Burke did not get what he said, or perhaps his ears did not believe it.
Felicia was gushing over Viola. “You are so young, my dear!” she exclaimed loudly. “It does not seem possible you are old enough to marry ... you are such a young bit of a girl...”
Stukely was chuckling and jovial, but his little piggy eyes were angry. He looked over Edgar with a disparaging expression, and only reluctantly reached out his hand to shake Edgar’s as Burke introduced them once again. “Well, well, well, so you are the most fortunate fellow!” he said, emphasizing the word fortunate.
Burke boiled up. But Edgar met his look serenely, and smiled. “Yes, most fortunate, very lucky indeed, to have the love of such a wonderful woman,” he said. Viola put her hand in his arm and beamed up at him, such love in her expression that no one could doubt it on seeing her face.
Burke turned absently to the next guest. Lesley was stiff, her face cold. And then he saw who it was. He gasped.
“Denise!” he exclaimed. There she stood, smiling, in a black crepe frock over a black slip, as in mourning, though stunning. Her white diamonds glittered at her low neckline and in her fine ears, and on her long slim fingers outstretched to him.
“Dear Burke,” she smiled, and her violet eyes glittered in excitement. Her blonde hair hung about her shoulders in long rolls of curls. She looked loose, sensuous, like an opera dancer, he thought in distaste, with her short dress showing her ankles. “What a beautiful family occasion! I could not but come!”
He did not care about his manners, he was furious. He stared at her in righteous anger. “Who invited you?” he exclaimed loudly. Guests turned to stare in amazement at his loud voice. “Who dared to invite you! I wonder at you coming —”
She kept her smile on her red-coloured lips. “Why, darling Burke!” she cooed. “I knew I was always welcome at the Penhallows...”
Uncle Stukely was showing his satisfaction. Burke glared at him then turned back to Denise. “You are not welcome ever in my home,” he said clearly, his hot anger turning icy cold. “After the trick you played me, you will never be welcome in my home again! How dare you enter without an invitation, for I cannot believe anyone would invite you to so sacred an occasion in our family! You cannot wish us well, you who tried so hard to disrupt us!”
“Now, my boy,” said Uncle Stukely uneasily, stepping closer to them. “My plans have not been received so well! I thought you would be pleased to see Mrs Huntington, after all, she was welcome in Penhallow this summer...” And he smirked significantly.
“You brought her there,” said Burke furiously, not troubling to lower his voice. The huge room was silent, guests held their breaths to listen. Greedy eyes, avid for gossip, followed every look, every gesture, every word. “I strongly suspect you encouraged her in the trick she played me! Yes, it was to your advantage to do that! We admitted her for politeness’s sake, I shall not make that mistake again!”
He heard someone near him gasp, either Viola or Lesley. Denise said, “Well, you are very rude tonight, dear Burke! I should have spoken to you in private...” And she smiled alluringly up at him, her white teeth showing between her red paste lips. He thought she looked like a vixen about to take a bite of her victim.
“Not in private ever, and I hope never again in public,” he said forcefully. He glanced from her to Uncle Stukely, hovering anxiously. “I hope Stukely paid you well for your act, it was well done, and very convincing. You are quite an actress! Did he pay well, Mrs Huntington, the diamonds, perhaps?”
“He paid me nothing at all!” she cried rashly. “I was glad to do it, to bring down the high and mighty Burke Penhallow, who thinks so much of himself! You think you are too good for me now, do you? Let me tell you —”
“Mrs Huntington, you forget yourself!” cried Mr Stukely hastily, taking her arm roughly. Everyone was looking, listening, he was painfully aware of that. The smooth smile had departed, he looked rather hunted. “Allow me to get you some wine —”
“She is not staying!” said Burke coldly. He turned to the butler, who was desperately trying to stare frozenly into space. “Mortimer, show Mrs Huntington to the door, procure a hack for her. She was not invited to this house, she will never again be received here.” And he turned his back on the woman.
“Burke, you will not do this to me!” She did not plead, she shouted in fury.
“Not at all, you have done it to yourself,” he said, and held out his arm to Lesley. “Shall we go in to our guests?” he said, and she took his arm in silence. They entered the wide doors of the drawing room. Mrs Meredith rustled up to them.
“Dear Lesley, what a beautiful gown,” she said calmly. “Your home has never looked so beautiful, and how you grace it!”
Burke was furiously aware of how the gossips stared, but he was so upset, he did not care. That Denise Huntington had dared to come uninvited, to look like that, to speak so! And admitting what she had done to him at Penhallow! He hoped Lesley had taken that in!
He wondered if the Stukelys would remain, if they had the gall to do that. They did. When they went in to dinner, some fifteen minutes later, the Stukelys took their places, and chattered as amiably as anyone.
It took him a time to recover his temper. Viola helped, seated at his right as guest of honour. Her low, soothing voice, her smiles, her naturalness — though she must be feeling the scene that had happened — helped him become calm.
The dinner was superb. The fresh fish was followed by spicy pâté with French bread, crusty and deliciously buttered with a chive dressing. When that was removed, they were served slices of roast beef with small potatoes, green peas, salad with herb dressing. Another remove was game hen, and then shrimp and oysters. With all
was served wine, white, then red, then a beautiful rosé, sparkling in the long-stemmed glasses.
Dessert was French pastry filled with ripe strawberries covered with whipped cream. White sparkling wine accompanied that.
With this wine, Burke stood and announced the engagement of “My dear ward, Miss Viola Dalrymple, and my close friend and beloved pastor, the Reverend Mr Edgar Creswick. No occasion could be happier — with the exception of the return of our beloved nephew Alexander. We hope that may be soon. Meantime, I asked all of you to rejoice with us in the engagement of these two dear people, and their approaching marriage. May their joy be complete and life long, much blessed.” And he raised his glass to them.
The guests dutifully, and some gladly, echoed his sentiments. Uncle and Aunt Stukely looked decidedly sour. Their sentiments were not engaged in this match, to be sure. But they drank, they liked wine.
Coffee and brandy were served in two of the drawing rooms following the long dinner. Lesley served in one, Mrs Meredith in the other, as Viola and Edgar received the congratulations and best wishes of the guests. He thought Lesley seemed pale and quiet, very thoughtful, but not unhappy. She smiled and spoke naturally to her friends, politely to the others. It was rather amusing, thought Burke. He knew her so well now that he knew when she liked someone by the manner in which she greeted and smiled at them. She was cordial, but her manner to friends was so much warmer and sweeter, it was easy to see whom she did not like.
Everyone finally departed by midnight. Mrs Meredith surveyed the chaos that had once been the drawing rooms. “Well, I am convinced that all London will know of the engagement by tomorrow,” she said.
“How is that, dear lady?” asked Edgar innocently. “Are they such gossips?”
She grimaced. “The scene that occurred earlier will ensure it being spoken about, dear friend,” she said drily. “London will adore the on-dits. One may forget an engagement. However, beautiful Mrs Huntington has done us a kindness. By her outrageous actions and words, she assured us that the occasion will be spoken of to everyone of any importance from one end of London to the other. I am sure she did not mean us any kindness, but she has done it.”
The Ruby Heart: A classic Regency love story Page 18
