by Laura Locke
Pale and interesting, or just pallid. Putting Cornelius off is a full-time employment and anything I can do in that regard can help. Even the headache.
She shook her head to herself. The thought of a headache being an asset in the war to dislodge Cornelius from her life would be amusing. Except it wasn't. She was in absolute serious earnest.
“Pauline?” Cornelia asked, trying on a pearl chain. “You're wearing blue?”
“Yes, dear,” Pauline said, struggling out of her day-dress and glad when Prudence appeared to help her work.
“Oh, good. I'm wearing the peace – Claudia said it was fashionable and it would become me. What do you think?”
“I think she's right,” Pauline said hastily, turning sideways to facilitate her dress-sleeves being fastened up.
“Well, then,” Cornelia sounded pleased. “I shall wear it today. You never know who might be there.”
Pauline raised a brow. “Anyone I should have met last night?”
“No, not really,” Cornelia mused. “Just some officers and one lord who danced too quickly.”
Pauline smiled. Cornelia had such a solid viewpoint. She looked at everything as it was and didn't complicate life. On the down side, seeing everything exactly as it was meant she was unprepared for subtleties and didn't notice when people were saying something else besides what they meant.
We make a good team, Pauline mused.
She turned, her dress fastened, and looked in the mirror. It was a deeper blue than most young women favored, with a pale blue sash around the high waist and gauze filmy sleeves. The bodice was low with a lace trim and it was pretty and delicate.
This is my favorite dress.
With her hair in ringlets and lifted up onto her head, she looked sophisticated and calm.
It is a pity Cornelius will take us.
She waited for her cousin to join her at the door and they went down the stairs. Cornelia joined them in white. Cornelius met them downstairs, as he had before, and they went to the coach. It was an open carriage that day, for they were going to an afternoon tea and the weather was surprisingly mild.
“Walk on.”
Cornelius leaned back as the driver set them moving to the path.
“Well,” he said, leaning forward to address Pauline. “London by day. What d'you think?”
“It is charming,” Pauline said neutrally.
“It will be more beautiful as the sun sets,” Claudia murmured. Her brother shot her a look, but Pauline was pleased to see he said nothing.
At least the odious man is learning to hold his tongue around her.
She closed her eyes and leaned back and tried to focus on the lovely sensation of the wind, gently touching her skin. Breathe the scents of the bakehouse and the inn, the coffee-house and the brewers as they rolled sedately past.
They arrived at a vast building perhaps twenty minutes later. A sumptuous manor house, there were already carriages with people alighting from them. Cornelius coughed.
“Well, we're almost not late,” he commented lightly. “With three ladies getting ready, one can't expect aught else.” He smirked.
“We are not late,” Pauline said mildly. “The church tower there says five of the clock.”
He snorted. Said nothing. Pauline felt sullied by the way he belittled herself and the two younger girls, but she was not about to argue. Not here.
“Well, here we are,” she said to them brightly, trying to ease things.
“Out we get,” Cornelius said. He stepped lightly down and held out a hand for first Pauline, then Cornelia and Claudia, to descend from the carriage. Then he sent the driver onward, back home.
“Call for us at seven,” he called back.
“Good, milord earl.”
Cornelia and Claudia talking quietly together, Pauline joined Cornelius and they walked calmly up the steps.
As Cornelius went in ahead of her, introducing she and her cousins to the hostess of the event, Pauline watched him coolly. The words of Lord Grant, by all accounts a friend, kept re-entering her thoughts. He is a jealous man. Jealous and mistrustful.
The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that he was probably blackening Valerian purposely. But would he? The story Lord Grant told was of basic jealousy. The man had simply isolated the lady from the rest of the room, not tried to make her isolate herself by telling lies.
She shook herself, noticing that it was time to go in. She should stop being so suspicious.
What I really need, she decided, is someone who knows Valerian. Someone I can trust, who I can ask. That's the only way I'm ever going to know.
She looked around the room, crowded with elegantly-dressed, sedate people. She felt a hand on her arm. She turned round.
“Cornelia?”
“Pauline! Oh...here he is...” she blushed. “Hide me!”
Pauline frowned. Cornelia stood firmly behind her, not moving. She followed her gaze. Saw Francis, the military officer they met weeks ago. A friend of Valerian's she reminded herself. And, evidently, someone who captured the interest of her lighthearted cousin.
“My lady Pauline,” he said, bowing low. Pauline had to admit, looking at him closely, that her cousin had good taste. With golden hair and turquoise eyes, he was undeniably stunning.
“Lieutenant,” she smiled. “A pleasure to renew the acquaintance.”
“It is, my lady it is. I...” he paused. Pauline looked and saw he was staring past her. She followed his glance, amused, and saw Cornelia.
She was smiling at the officer with a hesitant grin that made her look young and fragile and lovely. Pauline bit her lip.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant. I think I see an old friend of mine,” she lied valiantly. “Cousin, excuse me.”
Cornelia didn't turn her head. Pauline drifted off, grinning softly.
Well. That sorted Cornelia out for the moment. No wonder she wanted to come! I wonder if she knew he'd be here?
She smiled. Cornelia might be direct, but perhaps she was better with deception than she gave her credit. If she knew she was going to see Francis, she hid it well. She was glad for her cousin.
“My lady?” a man frowned at her. “I believe we met.”
“Ah, Captain Dunstan,” she nodded. She distantly recalled meeting him with Major Cartwright, a month or so beforehand. Dark haired with brown eyes that didn't quite focus and a pointy face, the man was not particularly handsome, though he had a keen vitality that made him memorable.
“You recalled me, ma'am,” he said, bowing low. “I am honored.”
Pauline smiled. “I am not sure whether I should be vexed at that. We met a month ago, sir. Is my memory so ailing that I could not be expected to remember you?”
“Oh, my lady...I...” he shook his head, evidently feeling wretched. Pauline laughed.
“I'm just teasing,” she informed him. “I know you didn't mean it.”
“Oh, good!” he looked relieved. “What brings you here, my lady?”
“Family business,” Pauline said. Well, it was. It was her mother's business that she marry Cornelius and she was not going to pretend otherwise; not here and now.
“Oh,” the officer nodded. “You'll be missed in Darbyshire.”
“I will?” Pauline frowned.
“Lieutenant Valerian, milady,” he nodded. “He'll miss you.”
“He will?” Pauline felt herself step back. Her headache disappeared, to be replaced by a sudden confusion.
“He will.” Captain Dunstan confirmed steadily.
“You know him?”
“We are friends,” Captain Dunstan said. “I'm here with Francis – we had to settle something with the officer at the headquarters,” he explained. “But before I left, Lieutenant Harrington reminded me of you. Said I should take his regards, if I saw you.”
“Oh...” Pauline felt as if she might fall. She looked about for a chair, sat down.
Captain Dunstan smiled. “You send your regards back, my lady?”
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br /> “I do,” Pauline said distantly. “Indeed, sir. Yes.”
Captain Dunstan nodded. “I'll convey them, for certain, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
“Strange, being here,” Captain Dunstan mused, looking around the room. Ladies and gentlemen swarmed around the tea-table, or stood, cups in hand, conversing in small groups. Some went to the windows or looked about the room, talking quietly with each other as they surveyed the grounds or discussed the artworks. “I feel a bit at sea. Wish Valerian were here.”
“You do?”
“Yes. He knows what to do in places like this, more so than I.” The captain grinned ruefully. “Been out of decent company too long, I have. Forgotten it.”
“You were at the war in Spain?”
“In Portugal too, my lady,” he confirmed. “Just returned. Hard years. Very hard.”
“I cannot imagine the horror you lived through,” Pauline said quietly.
“I wouldn't want anyone to imagine it,” he said gravely. “I'm glad I'm back,” he added with a smile.
“You were in the forces a long time?” she asked, trying to find a way to turn the conversation back to Lieutenant Harrington.
“Eight years,” he nodded. “Went to Holland, then Spain, then Portugal. Now back here, thank Heaven.” he sighed. “Though, as I said, it's hard to fit back into all this.” He waved a hand at the crowded room.
“I can imagine,” Pauline nodded. “Lieutenant Harrington finds it easier, you mentioned?” she asked, seizing on the reference to guide the conversation back to the vital topic.
“I think so,” he nodded. “He's a gentlemanly sort,” he said.
“I know,” Pauline nodded. She frowned. “You have known him long?” If he thought of him as a gentleman, it sounded highly unlikely he'd heard anything like the rumor Cornelius spread. He wouldn't still think of him as a gentleman under those circumstances.
“Four years, nearly,” he nodded. “A good man.”
“I think so to,” Pauline agreed. “You know something about him? He seems a very...enigmatic...man.”
Her newfound-friend chuckled. “You could say!” he nodded. “He is that. I can't say I know much more, milady.”
“Well, that makes me feel better – your acquaintance is longer. If you still find areas of mystery in him, then I am not so sorely lacking.”
He chuckled. “No, my lady. You're not lacking at all. It's Lieutenant Harrington – he's lacking a past. There's something mysterious about him...I couldn't tell you what. Never heard a word of it...it's like that in the army. We all go in as who we are – pasts don't matter so much there, see. I walked into being an officer, where some poor sod – pardon me, my lady – some poor fellow from the other end of town wouldn't hope to be one.” He sighed. “But that's the only part of the past that matters. What you might have done gets lost under who you are now, what you do.”
“I see,” Pauline nodded. She felt a strange curiosity and anticipation, mixed with a slight concern. If Lieutenant Harrington had some dark secret, then...could the story be true?
“We're all men of mystery, you see,” he said, making an attempt to look alluring. Pauline chuckled. With his blunt, open features, it didn't really work.
“I believe you,” she said warmly. “But I did want to ask you something else.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Was there any hint of some disrepute, when Lieutenant Harrington joined the army? Some whisper of disgrace?”
“Not that I know of, my lady.” He shrugged. “Why? If I may ask?”
“No reason,” Pauline said quickly. If there was no word of it, better yet not to mention it.
“Well, then,” he smiled. “You see, I really do ramble on when given the right company.”
“I'm pleased to be the right company,” Pauline said gallantly.
“Well, then,” he bowed. “It's been an honor talking with you, my lady. But I should move on. I think I see some friends over there. And a fellow with a very cross expression.”
Pauline looked around as the captain took his leave, trying to figure out what he meant. Then her eye alighted on a face at the front of a group about ten paces behind her back. A face wearing a very cross expression.
Cornelius. She sighed. The naval officer yesterday spoke truth: the man was painfully jealous. She shivered, seeing the narrowed eyes, the flushed, sweat-damp face.
There is something horrible about such possessiveness.
As soon as the captain had moved on, she turned to face Cornelius, trying to force a smile to her face. He gave her a resentful stare. Pauline shivered. I suppose I should join the group with him. He is my escort, after all. But she found she wanted a moment to compose herself, to consider what she'd heard.
Lieutenant Valerian Harrington is a man of mystery. He has no past, or a past with secrets. But he is considered highly mannered.
If any taint of disgrace was on him, his colleagues in the forces had not heard of it. And she was sure that if there were a hint of it, they would know about it. Men would seize on an opportunity to weaken his position, when promotion and position could be affected by it.
No, whatever it is, it is well-hidden. Or it simply does not exist. Cornelius made it up.
As she looked at that flushed, angry face, she was sure that he would stoop to slandering a man she seemed to like.
I wonder, she thought, interested, what he will have to say about Captain Dunstan.
“Good evening,” she said quietly, joining the group.
“Huh,” he said. “There you are. I was wondering where you'd got to.”
Interesting, Pauline thought. She had expected him to be accusatory, to be wrathful. But instead he seemed strangely subdued. Even when they left, an hour or two afterward, she found he was not inclined to confront her directly. He spoke little and the ride back in the carriage was quiet except for Cornelia who, oblivious to the strained tension, enumerated the wonders of the day.
“...and they had sugar lumps and meringues and did you see the cake? Oh! It was beautiful!”
Pauline smiled and even Claudia softened, listening to her going on. Only Cornelius remained slumped and morose, staring out at the darkening streets.
“Thank you,” Pauline murmured as he helped her from the coach.
“Pleasure,” he mumbled, without looking up.
I wonder what's the matter with him now?
“Thank you. It was a lovely afternoon tea,” she said politely as she passed him in the entrance-way, heading toward the stairs to her bedchamber.
“Not at all,” he mumbled. “You seem to have enjoyed it, anyway.”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I did.”
With that she walked past him and headed up the stairs behind Cornelia, who was still humming a song the quartet had played earlier in the day, heading to their bedchamber.
I don't understand that man, she mused. But something has perturbed him. All the same, it's a good change from his unpleasant attentions.
She shuddered. It was a relief.
Her thoughts soon turned from him, however, and back to another man. A lieutenant, dark and handsome, with a lost past.
Chapter 13
“You know,” Cornelius announced the next morning over breakfast. “I have a mind to visit the theater.”
Pauline raised a brow. “You do?” she had thought he didn't like the theater – it certainly sounded like it when they discussed it with his sister the night they first arrived. “Today, Cornelius?”
“Yes, today,” he said grandly. “Why shouldn't we?”
“No reason,” Pauline murmured.
“You will go to the Grand, brother?” Claudia asked. Pauline wasn't sure whether she imagined it, but was their the faintest trace of irony in her voice. The younger woman's face was bland, though, and it could have been completely guileless. Pauline still wondered.
“No, the King's Theater,” he announced. “It's a better theater, is it not, Lady Pauline?”
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“I...” Pauline set her teacup down, biting back a smile. Cornelius trying to be charming was almost amusing. “It depends, I think. The seats are more comfortable, so I heard, but the acoustics are similar in both theaters.”
“I have heard that too,” Claudia said, surprising Pauline. She inclined her head thankfully to her.
“Well, then. It depends on what we want to see.” she said fairly.
“Something funny,” Cornelia exclaimed. “Tragedies are horrid – who wants to go and see people being sad? Don't see a tragedy, Cousin!” Her pretty face was round-eyed and insisting.
Pauline smiled. “Well, we could see a comedy..?” she turned to Cornelius, asking his opinion.
“All too crude for you, my dear,” he smiled winningly.
Pauline gritted her teeth. Yes, the plays could be bawdy in places, but often they were witty and clever. She could overlook the odd rude implication for a wise message.
“Well, what do you suggest?” she asked patiently.
“I heard there was to be a showing of Hamlet,” he said. Pauline raised a brow.
“Oh, don't go and see Hamlet,” Cornelia said urgently. “It's horrid. All those bodies...” she shuddered.
“They will stand up again when the curtain drops, you know.”
“I know,” Cornelia sighed. “But it's all so tedious! Why should everyone die in the end? Life isn't like that...all miserable and full of secrets.”
“No,” Pauline said, sipping more tea. “Not usually, no.”
I didn't think it was either, she thought. Until I stumbled on these dark secrets. Who is telling the truth, and who is lying?
She sighed. There was only one way to find out, and that was to ask people. And sitting here in the townhouse was not going to help her to meet more people. She nodded. “We should go, Cornelius.”
Cornelia spoke up.
“Well, I wanted to stay and go to the park today,” she said quickly. “Claudia was going to show me a new way of embroidering bonnets. Weren't you?” she asked Claudia quickly.
Claudia nodded. “I was.”
Pauline, looking from the one girl to the other, wondered if there were not some complicity there – they looked as if they were making up a story on the spot, supporting each other in some hidden aim. She wondered what it was. Better to act as if she hadn't guessed, she decided quickly.