An Unconventional Courtship

by Dorothy Mack

  He was unfazed by this eminently reasonable objection. “There has been a recent development along that front. A new suitor has appeared on Emerald’s horizon. Since he is based in Brighton, you can see it will be more convenient to have her here within easy reach.”

  Lady Pendleston’s face registered awed respect. “I had not realized before how very devious you are, Jason. Did you plan this?”

  “No, how could I? Honesty compels me to admit that I am merely taking advantage of a fortuitous circumstance.” He read the uncertainty in her face and said seriously, “Cleone would not allow herself to become interested in a man her cousin had marked as her property. It was always in the cards that my suit could not really prosper until Emerald had relinquished all hopes in my direction.” Colour flooded into his face and he looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know how to put this without sounding like a coxcomb, but I assure you it is nothing personal. The girl had refused a gratifying number of suitors, and she had every reason to expect that I would come up to scratch. For this I am entirely to blame. Believe me, I appreciate the awkwardness of her position at present, and while I am not ultimately prepared to sacrifice the happiness of all three of us, I will do all in my power to ensure that she does not lose by my defection.”

  “Yes, I do see how you are placed. Who is this new suitor? I assume he is eligible?”

  “More than eligible. The young Marquess of Carberry saw her here in Brighton last week and was immediately épris.”

  “Well, then, that is settled. It promises to be an interesting few weeks.” Lady Pendleston rose, shaking out her skirts. “And now, my dear one, I am going to send you away so that I may rest and recover from the rigours of traveling. Or perhaps I should go the pace and plunge into Brighton’s social whirl à l’instant so as to deepen the circles under my eyes, thus assuring that I look properly in need of recuperation when we call at Bramble Hall.” She twinkled up at her nephew, who seized her in another impulsive bear hug.

  “Bless you, Aunt Bess. You are wonderful.”

  “Yes, I know,” she concurred modestly as she rang for the butler to show him out.

  CHAPTER 15

  She would have to agree with Cecily that they were having a very social summer, Cleone decided as she freshened the floral arrangements in the great hall. Bernard Ludlow and his sister continued to call regularly. Last week, the women had driven to Brighton to lunch with Lord Altern and had met Lord Carberry. A few days later, the marquess had redeemed his promise to call, riding out with Philip to sit with the ladies for the correct half-hour, though it was patent that his only real interest was in Emerald. She replaced some fading stalks of larkspur with fresh ones and stepped back to gauge the effect. A little too tall perhaps. A few snips rectified the proportions and she nodded with satisfaction.

  Cleone left the mess for the maid to clear away and hurried to the kitchen. Lord Altern had sent word yesterday that he was bringing Lady Pendleston to call this morning. Naturally they had sent back an invitation to remain for lunch. So the social whirl continued. There was a skip in her step as she approached the kitchen, attributable no doubt to pleasurable anticipation at seeing her godmother for the first time in over five years.

  Lady Pendleston looked so marvellous that all fears that her illness might have left her in a debilitated condition were swept away. After the introductions to Emerald and Cecily had been made, Cleone said, “I am relieved to find you in such blooming looks, Godmama. Lord Altern told us you were feeling sadly pulled of late.”

  Lady Pendleston laughed and said easily, “Jason saw me looking my worst at the height of my illness. You know how one’s menfolk tend to worry unnecessarily whenever one is feeling the least bit off-colour.” Cleone didn’t, but she nodded and smiled. “He was determined to get me down here under his eye, and I must admit I am delighted to be here. I had forgotten how bracing the air of Brighton can feel. And I am amazed at the changes in the town since I was last in the area.”

  The two elder ladies slid into a reminiscent vein, recalling the Brighton of the turn of the century and commenting on the improvements and additions over the years. Lord Altern’s eyes gleamed as he asked Cecily if they had seen anything of the neighbours lately.

  “Why, yes, sir,” that young lady replied, all big-eyed innocence. “The rector and Mrs. Lovejoy had dinner with us just last night.”

  “And the family from the Grange?” he inquired in equal innocence.

  “As to that,” Emerald said tartly, “We have had a veritable plague of calls from certain members of that family. It is tedious beyond all bearing.”

  “How would you know?” Cecily shot back. “You are generally roaming about the grounds whenever our friends call. I noticed you were not so standoffish when a virtual stranger came the other day.”

  “Lord Carberry and Philip called to see how we did,” Cleone interpreted before Emerald could retaliate.

  “Ah, yes, you met Lord Carberry the day you were in Brighton, if memory serves. I trust you have no objections to improving the acquaintance?”

  “Of course not.”

  “There could be no rational objection to someone who is so perfectly the gentleman.” Emerald cut in on her cousin’s automatic disclaimer. If Lord Altern detected a hint of defiance in the warm defence, he gave no indication of it.

  “I wonder, would a perfect gentleman ignore the claims on his civility of all in the room save one?” Cecily mused idly.

  Jason hid a smile as his lambent glance flicked between the sisters. The little one was coming along nicely. A fortnight ago, she would have flared at her sister and then found herself in the embarrassing position of having to apologize. No one could legitimately challenge the soft voice and guileless expression that had accompanied this little bomb today. Even Cleone had done no more than send her a warning look, while the beautiful Miss Hardwicke had been forced to contain her spleen to preserve her image outside her family.

  “The obvious answer must be the negative, of course,” he replied as if considering a hypothetical question, “but Christian charity demands that we make allowances for those suffering from disturbed emotional states.” He bestowed a smile on each of the pretty antagonists and switched his attention to Cleone. “Tell me, how is the portrait of Louisa coming along?”

  “I completed it two days ago.”

  “May I see it?”

  She hesitated a second. “Yes, of course. It was my birthday present to Isabella, you understand, and she has it in her rooms, but I am persuaded she will have no objection. Isabella?”

  Lady Henley was only too pleased to display her cousin’s talents and her child’s attractions, and a servant was desired to fetch the picture.

  Once again, Jason was struck by the maturity and depth of Cleone’s work. The laughing little girl of the portrait, with her sparkling green eyes and pearly teeth, was a particularly enchanting individual while at the same time representing the innocence of childhood with its mingling of mischief and dreaminess. The shadows cast by sunlight coming through the branches of the tree conferred vitality and immediacy to the painting beyond what could be achieved in a studio. He had difficulty expressing himself adequately on the subject, but Cleone’s shining eyes told him how pleased she was by his approbation. Added to Lady Pendleston’s amazement and generous praise of a talent she had not known existed, it was debatable whether the artist was more embarrassed or gratified. Certainly she was flustered and sought a change of subject by inquiring into the length of her godmother’s stay in Brighton.

  “I have the house for the rest of the season,” beamed Lady Pendleston. “And naturally I shall expect you to come and make me a nice long visit.”

  “Oh, but, Godmama, I couldn’t do that. I’ll come to see you sometimes, but I cannot really leave here for any appreciable length of time. It just isn’t possible.”

  “Nonsense, my dear child, I see no impediments to your having a little change of scene. A change every now and then is good for all of u
s; we come back refreshed and revitalized. Do you not agree, Lady Henley?”

  “Yes, indeed, but my father-in-law is, I fear, very set in his ways, and he depends utterly on Cleone. Among other things, she attends to all his correspondence, you see.”

  “Ah? Then perhaps we might make some arrangements about that with Lord Brestwick.”

  “I don’t think my uncle would willingly accept any changes, Godmama.” Cleone rushed in to forestall any attempt on Lady Pendleston’s part to confront Lord Brestwick, lest her gentle godmother might tempt the rough edge of her uncle’s tongue.

  But when the earl joined the ladies for lunch, he gave no evidence of his usual caustic style, greeting Lady Pendleston with old-fashioned courtesy and something that could almost be called a smile. “You were a friend of my niece Philippa. She spoke of you on occasion.”

  “Did she? Dear Philippa. We met at school, you know, and remained friends until she died.” Lady Pendleston’s blue eyes were misty as she smiled up at the tall erect old man.

  Before the astonished eyes of his family, Lord Brestwick patted her hand before releasing it to say gruffly, “She was a good gel, my niece. She could have married better, but that is water over the dam at this point.”

  Lady Pendleston carefully avoided Cleone’s fulminating eye, as did the earl. “I am persuaded you will agree, sir, that only two people are in a position to write the epitaph of a marriage, and Philippa was completely happy with John Latham, though their circumstances were modest. It is a thousand pities they both died so young, especially for Cleone’s sake.”

  “Aye, but she’s made of strong stuff. She’s a Hardwicke,” stated the earl categorically.

  They had moved into the dining room during this exchange and now began the mealtime ritual. By the time the first pangs of hunger had been satisfied, Lord Brestwick and Lady Pendleston were chatting together like old friends. Cleone was an appreciative audience as her very feminine godmother and the dour earl became deeply involved in, of all unlikely subjects, a discussion of sailing. It seemed her late husband had been a devotee of the sport, and Lord Brestwick, raised near the coast, had sailed his own boat well into his sixties.

  At the other end of the table, Lord Altern effortlessly entertained Lady Henley with news of acquaintances encountered in Brighton and the trials of the Prince Regent, whose improvement schemes for the Pavilion were proceeding at an unsatisfactory pace.

  It wasn’t until the ladies had admired and consumed the cook’s special fruit tarts and the gentlemen were sampling some aged Stilton that Lady Pendleston turned her sweetest smile on her host.

  “Perhaps I should have confessed before I accepted your gracious hospitality that I came here today with the intention of spiriting away my goddaughter and your granddaughters to visit with me in Brighton for a few weeks.”

  “You want us too?”

  “Yes.” Lady Pendleston smiled at a surprised Cecily and a suddenly pensive Emerald. “I thought it would be much more entertaining for Cleone if she had her cousins’ company, but she seems to think you cannot do without her for a short time, sir,” she added, turning to the earl with a helpless little openhanded gesture of defeat.

  “I have explained to my godmother that I attend to all your regular correspondence, Uncle.”

  Lord Brestwick’s eyes had been making a circuit of the table while he assessed the situation with a mental quickness unaffected by time, and now they met those of Lord Altern, who had remained aloof from the proceedings. A look of understanding passed between the men before the earl turned to his great-niece.

  “So you think you are so vital to my comfort that I couldn’t do without you for a spell, do you, girl? It appears to me to be a classic case of a swelled head, or perhaps, worse yet, you have acquired a dangerous taste for power.”

  “Uncle!” Cleone protested indignantly, but she could not hold back an amused little chuckle. “Do you really not mind if I spend some time with my godmother?” she persisted, leaning toward him earnestly. “Perhaps I could come out every few days to help you.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. Well, ma’am —” this to a pleased Lady Pendleston — “if you are going to have one, you may as well take all three and rid my house of female nonsense.”

  Twin dimples peeped out at the corners of Lady Pendleston’s mouth. “You are too generous, sir. What say you, Miss Hardwicke? Miss Cecily? Will you come to me for a time?”

  “It is most kind of you to include my sister and myself in your invitation, ma’am,” replied Emerald at her most demure, though her eyes were alive with secret satisfaction. “Thank you, I shall be pleased to come if my mother permits.”

  “Miss Cecily, may I count on you?”

  All eyes were trained on the youngest lady present, who, having had time for second thoughts since her first pleased surprise, was covered with confusion. She sent an apologetic look to Lady Pendleston, saying, “I thank you most sincerely for my share of your invitation, ma’am, but I think I must not leave Mama all alone with the children at this time. She has not felt quite the thing since our hectic London sojourn.”

  “Well, I am sorry you will not be joining us, but I applaud your thoughtfulness toward your mother. You must be proud of your daughter, ma’am,” approved Lady Pendleston.

  “Oh, I am — of both my daughters,” said Lady Henley, much moved. “Cecily is a dear, willing girl, and so good with the little ones.”

  Cleone, who had a shrewd notion that her young cousin was suffering more guilt than embarrassment at the praises being heaped on her at present, took a hand at this stage to mention the practical matters of packing and travel arrangements for herself and Emerald. It was here that Lord Altern, up to now a passive spectator, intervened after Lady Pendleston had settled on sending her carriage for her guests in two days’ time.

  “I have a proposition that I am hopeful you will consider, Miss Latham.”

  “A proposition?” Cleone’s face was a careful blank as she waited with the others for enlightenment, but her insides were churning alarmingly.

  His smiled soothed, charmed, and importuned at the same time, and the intimacy of it did nothing to make her feel less conspicuous.

  “I should like to commission you to paint Aunt Bess.”

  “Commission me? I don’t understand. You don’t mean for money?”

  “Why the horror, Miss Latham? I could scarcely command your time and skill and cut into your holiday on any other basis.”

  “Of course I could never accept payment for doing something that would be pure pleasure,” Cleone said firmly.

  Their glances met and clashed: hers was cool and determined, his calculating and confident at first, and then — surprisingly — disappointed. He sighed. “I am sorry we could not come to an agreement. With your affection for Aunt Bess, you would have brought an added dimension to the work, but I must have a professional artist who knows what his work is worth.”

  “Oh, Cleone, won’t you reconsider? I simply hate the idea of sitting for a portrait by a strange artist. I’ll feel ridiculously self-conscious.”

  Cleone scarcely heard her godmother’s plea. It had suddenly struck her that here was a way to reduce Philip’s debt to Lord Altern. Her lips tightened for an instant. No more than most people did she enjoy backing down from an argument, but she’d be hanged if she allowed that self-righteous dictator watching her from across the table to guess what it cost her to say calmly, “Very well, sir, it shall be as you wish.” Immediately she turned an encouraging face to Lady Pendleston. “You will very soon lose any little feeling of self-consciousness, I promise you, and I work fairly quickly.”

  “Quickly? Hah! You’ll want to wring her neck when your nose itches and she won’t let you scratch it,” Lord Brestwick confided helpfully.

  “Did Cleone paint you, my lord?”

  He nodded. “And my eldest granddaughter too. If it wouldn’t bore you, I’d be delighted to show you the portraits and conduct you around the gallery.
”

  “There’s nothing I’d like better,” Lady Pendleston assured him.

  The others wandered back into the saloon after the earl and his guest headed for the gallery. Lord Altern managed to get close enough to Cleone to murmur provocatively, “Now what, I wonder, caused that abrupt hauling down of the flag a few minutes ago?”

  Limpid puzzled eyes in an innocent face were raised to his suspicious ones. “I fear I must be very slow-witted today, for I have not the slightest idea to what your lordship refers.”

  “Coming it much too rare and thick, my dear. You know, all right. Never mind, I’ll work it out. It’s simply a matter of putting myself into a woman’s mind and trying to think deviously.”

  “A clear case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

  This dry rejoinder brought a flash of amusement to steel-grey eyes and a softening to his rather stern mouth that initiated a corresponding softening in Cleone’s bones. Each time they met of late, it seemed she suffered some sort of disconcerting physical symptom, and she hotly resented his deliberate provocations and her own heretofore unsuspected weaknesses. Consequently, she was noticeably cool to him during the remainder of the visit.

  Lady Pendleston commented on this when they were driving back toward Brighton later.

  “I must say I had not expected to find Cleone quite so — so distant with you, my dear. I would have thought that you two would be on somewhat better terms than that by now.”

  “Cheer up, Aunt Bess. Cleone, poor darling, is hard-pressed these days to preserve her determination that we shall remain tolerably friendly acquaintances only. If I could be assured of reasonable access to her on a continuing basis, I could afford to woo her slowly, though it would still go against the grain, but as matters stand, I must let her see that I mean business. She gets lulled into a false sense of security when we discuss impersonal topics with the ease of old friends. It is no part of my intention that she should look upon me as a comfortable old friend. I prefer her on her guard and off her balance,” he announced with cool deliberation.