by Sandra Heath
Reaching the central area, Great-Aunt Minton paused to look up at the likeness of the third Lord Fane. Linnet gazed up at it, too; it was like looking at a statue of Nicholas himself, the resemblance was so great. The sculpted face possessed the same handsomeness, was aesthetic and yet rugged, and the hair was as thick and curly, telling those who saw it that it had been the same shade of almost-black as that possessed by the present holder of the title. Even the eyes seemed to take on color, a pale, piercing blue.
She turned to her great-aunt. “You did love him, didn’t you?” she asked softly.
Great-Aunt Minton’s breath escaped on a long, wistful sigh. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I loved him with all my foolish, adoring heart.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“But…”
“He was married, my dear.”
Linnet stared.
“Oh, don’t misunderstand, for there was nothing illicit or underhanded about it. We didn’t speak of our love for each other, and I never even knew what it would be like to kiss him. He was the most honorable of men, and he was ashamed of having lost his heart to me, just as I was ashamed of having fallen in love with another woman’s husband. So, not a word was whispered, but we both knew. It was in our eyes when we looked at each other, and in our voices when we spoke.” She lowered her eyes, which were suddenly misty with sweet memory. “I could have had my pick of husbands, I certainly didn’t lack offers, but there was only one man for me, and he was beyond my reach. For a whole year I endured this loving torture, and then I knew I had to break away.”
“And that was when you left London?”
Her great-aunt nodded. “Yes. I wasn’t a great heiress, but I had sufficient funds to purchase Ivystone House, and to live very adequately indeed in my self-inflicted exile.”
“But, when he died, why didn’t you come back to live in London? Uncle Joseph importuned you to come back, didn’t he?”
“Yes, my dear, he did. But, you see, London has never been the same for me, it’s a hollow, empty place now, and it always will be. I’ve been to stay from time to time, and that is sufficient.” The old lady smiled. “Perhaps now you understand why I understand so much where you’re concerned. We both fled from London to escape the misery of loving a Lord Fane, but there is one signal difference between us. My Lord Fane was a paragon, a god of nobility and rectitude, whereas yours is a rapscallion of the meanest order, arrogant, heartless and totally without principle.”
Nicholas’s voice suddenly spoke behind them. “Good evening, ladies. I trust the statue meets with your approval?”
Linnet froze. She’d been so engrossed in her great-aunt’s story that she’d quite forgotten he’d observed them from Fane House. Slowly, and very reluctantly, she turned to face him, wondering as she did so if he’d heard her great-aunt’s scathing description of him.
He was standing about ten feet away, leaning back against one of the tree trunks, his arms folded. He wore a dark-red coat and cream breeches, and he hadn’t bothered to don a top hat before coming out. His dark hair was ruffled, and leafy shadows moved over him as a faint breeze stirred through the garden. The diamond pin in the folds of his starched neckcloth flashed as he straightened, coming toward them.
“The statue is an excellent likeness, don’t you agree?” he said.
Great-Aunt Minton turned to look severely at him, a light passing momentarily through her eyes at the shock of seeing again how closely he did indeed resemble her old love, but then extinguishing with coldness as she reminded herself that this was the grandson, not the grandfather. “Sir, the statue may indeed outwardly resemble your grandfather, but there the similarity ends, for you aren’t like him in the slightest.”
Linnet looked anxiously at her, detecting a battle note in her tone. “Great-Aunt…” she began.
“Hush, child. This fellow needs a lecture, and I am just the one to deliver it.” The old lady surveyed Nicholas again. “You, sirrah, are not a gentleman, and you certainly do not deserve to hold an old and much revered title such as that of Lord Fane. Your conduct toward my great-niece has been both disgraceful and unforgiveable, and if I were a man I’d have called you out for your despicableness. Not content with having treated her abominably last year, and with having robbed her uncle of his estate, you now compound your sins by aiding and abetting your unscrupulous paramour in her vicious campaign of lies and spite. So, sir, the likeness to your grandfather begins and ends, you will agree, with your looks alone.”
Nicholas heard her out without a flicker of reaction, and when she’d finished, he raised an eyebrow. “You are, of course, entitled to speak as you please. Believe me, if you were indeed a man, I’d have accepted your challenge.”
“Sirrah, you have no honor to defend,” she replied icily. “Come, Linnet.” Without the courtesy of even a nod of her head, she turned and swept away in the direction of the steps leading up to the crescent in front of Venetia’s house.
Linnet made to follow her, but Nicholas spoke to her. “I take it that you are still in full agreement with your great-aunt where I’m concerned? Yes, of course you are, for it’s from you that she’s acquired her information.”
Linnet turned in her steps, looking into his eyes. “Nicholas, the information is freely available all over town. You did deceive me with Judith Jordan, you did acquire Radleigh Hall by means that you aren’t prepared to explain, and you are in league with her now that she’s setting about making me a laughingstock.”
“You already know my response to the first two charges, but as to the third… Well, yes, I admit to having been present when the stories began their life, but I promise you this, they would have been much more venomous had I not interfered.”
“Do you really expect me to believe that? Am I supposed to see you in the guise of a guardian angel?”
“Yes, as it happens.”
She gave an incredulous laugh. “You really are beyond belief! After all you’ve done to me, you now expect my gratitude! Your vanity is quite extraordinary, I vow it’s a wonder you can gaze at yourself in the mirror and see past the dazzle of your halo!”
He smiled a little. “What a quaint picture you paint, to be sure. Let me say this, Linnet, if you find me beyond belief, then I feel the same way about you. Every tiny whisper you hear, you believe, and every vile accusation about me, you dutifully repeat. As I’ve said before, I find your conduct reprehensible in the extreme. Your great-aunt has just seen fit to inform me that she’ll never forgive me for what I’ve supposedly done to you, and now it’s my turn to tell you that I’ll never forgive you, Linnet, for all you’ve done to me.”
She stared at him, words fighting for precedence on her angry lips. Then she turned to walk on to where her great-aunt was waiting impatiently by the steps.
“Linnet?” he called after her. “One of the things you’ve done, or omitted to do, is send me an invitation to your ball.”
She was goaded, whirling about to face him again.
“You’re the last person on earth I wish to see on that might. No, perhaps not the last, for that place is reserved for your malevolent belle de nuit. Please warn her not to attempt to gain admittance to Carlisle House tomorrow night, for if she does, she’ll be ejected very ignominiously indeed.”
“I’ll pass the message on,” he replied, sketching a mocking bow.
“I’m sure you will.”
He held her angry eyes. “You may not believe this, Linnet, but I hope she doesn’t succeed in her plan.”
“Then prevent her from carrying it out, sir. You’ve already bragged once that your interference has been used to good effect, so, pray, attend to it again, but on her behalf this time.”
“Judith is a law unto herself, and if she’s set on attending your ball, there’s precious little I can do about it. Unless you wish me to lock her up for the night.”
“Oh, I’m quite sure you can find another way to keep her fully occupied,” she replied acidly.
“Your faith in my prowess is very flattering,” he murmured, coming closer to her again, and pausing in the shadow of his grandfather’s statue. “I really do hope you succeed in keeping her out, Linnet, for to be sure the evening will be humiliating enough for you as it is.”
“Humiliating?”
“What else would you call it when the highlight is the placing of that blackguard Gresham’s ring upon your willful little finger? Witching hour indeed. I’m sure that that will be sufficient disgrace without Judith’s humiliating triumph adding to your distress. It might prove too much for your delicate constitution…”
“Your wit is as becoming as your modesty, sir.”
He smiled, but then became serious again. “Don’t marry him, for you don’t love him.” Then he turned to stroll away, beginning to whistle softly. The tune was “Greensleeves.”
Alas, my love, you do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously. For I have loved you, oh, so long…
Chapter 15
Evening shadows were lengthening, and it was almost time to dress for the ball. Linnet stood impatiently on the ballroom steps, watching Venetia supervising the positioning of the six large blocks of ice that would serve to cool the temperature when the ball was in full swing and the room a tremendous crush. The ice had only just been delivered from Gunter’s cellars, and each block had to be carefully placed on a silver stand that had a bowl beneath to catch the water. The moment a stand was in place, a group of maids hastened to border it with arrangements of ferns, so that the effect of coolness was enhanced still more.
Venetia had been very busy all day, ordering the Carlisle House servants about their designated tasks and seeing that every one of her careful plans for the decorations were attended to precisely. There were roses everywhere, standing on the floor on either side of the blue velvet sofas, twined around the pillars beneath the orchestra’s apse, where Herr Heller’s Ensemble was tuning up, and garlanded around the walls in delightful loops of crimson flowers. But most especially there were the roses in the great column rising from the center of the floor; it ascended in what seemed like a solid mass of crimson petals, and at the top there were the leaping silver unicorns, arranged like the spokes of a huge horizontal wheel. Silver ribbons were tied around the unicorns’ necks, extending to the corners of the ballroom ceiling, through metal hoops fixed there, and then descending to metal rings attached to the floor, where they were firmly tied in readiness for the climax of the evening. At the stroke of midnight, as Benedict placed his ring on Linnet’s finger, footmen would untie these ribbons, the unicorns would slowly descend on wires hidden in the rose column, and as they descended, the linnets in their cages inside the column would be set free. After that, the guests would continue to dance the night away, not leaving until after dawn.
The notion of red roses and silver unicorns had quite carried Venetia away, and the firm in Cheapside that provided them had received order after order. Now there were unicorns in many places other than just the great column, they were also on the orchestra’s apse, and at the foot of the steps where Linnet stood waiting. They lined the entrance hall and the staircase, they guarded the main entrance, and they stood proudly above the courtyard gates, their necks garlanded with roses, their silver horns studded with sequins that made them glitter constantly. The whole effect was breathtakingly lavish, and original, and Venetia was justifiably proud of her efforts.
The one item she didn’t have to oversee personally was the ball supper, for Gunter’s had sent their own staff to prepare and serve it. They were in the supper room across the entrance hall, hurrying to set everything out correctly on the white-clothed tables. It was an extravagant supper, one of Gunter’s best, and there were dishes of chicken, ham, and beef, mousses of salmon and trout, salads of every description, desserts as spectacular and delicious as was expected of the famous confectioner, and an array of tasty tidbits guaranteed to tempt the most jaded of appetites. The champagne was in readiness, standing in huge buckets of ice, and a positive infantry of glasses was gathered in battalions upon more white-clothed tables.
Linnet paced nervously up and down at the top of the steps, the knotted ends of her white shawl dragging over the floor behind her. She wore a cream lawn day dress, and her hair was pinned up into the simplest of knots.
She glanced across the hall at the clock on the mantle-piece. Time was marching on, and still Venetia fussed around with the blocks of ice. Why couldn’t she leave the footmen to finish without her, so that the business of dressing for the ball could commence?
Sommers appeared from the direction of the kitchens, and Linnet paused to look at him. “Is everything in order?” she asked.
“Yes, madam. I’ve carried out your instructions to the letter. All entrances will be guarded throughout the ball, and…”
“Especially the mews lane entrance?” she interrupted. “I’m sure that that is the way she’ll choose, for it would normally be less well watched.”
“Including the mews lane entrance,” he confirmed reassuringly. “And every invitation will be checked as the guests arrive, so that no unauthorized, er, persons, will gain admittance.”
“You will be certain to remind everyone again, won’t you? There mustn’t be a single slip.”
“Everything that can possibly be done, will be done, madam.”
“Very well. Thank you, Sommers.”
“Madam.” He bowed, and withdrew again.
As he did so, Great-Aunt Minton came down the staircase to join her. The old lady looked at Venetia, who was still ordering the somewhat harassed footmen around with the final block of ice. “Lady Hartley is a very demanding task mistress,” she murmured.
“She wants everything to be as perfect as possible.”
“So it seems. I wonder how much of it is for you and her half-brother, and how much simply for herself?”
“That’s unfair, Great-Aunt,” chided Linnet.
“Possibly. I’m still not quite sure about that lady. However, I am quite sure about Mr. Gresham.” The old lady paused, evidently wanting to choose her next words very carefully indeed. “Linnet, my dear, I can’t approve of this betrothal tonight, and so I feel I must ask you for a final time to reconsider. I know this is the eleventh hour, and that there would be a great deal of gossip and speculation were the betrothal to be broken off, but…”
“I will not change my plans, Great-Aunt,” Linnet broke in quietly. “I love him, and I wish to be his wife, so please don’t ask me to break matters off now.”
The old lady nodded sadly. “I understand, my dear. I only trust that you understand why I felt obliged to ask you this one last time. I won’t say anything more, for I now accept that the betrothal is absolutely inevitable, but I cannot promise not to do my best to deter you from marriage itself. Forgive me for being unable to accept Mr. Gresham as being the ideal husband for you, Linnet, but one cannot deny one’s instincts and conscience. Well, it’s nearly time now, and if I’m to be togged out in all my evening glory tonight, I’d best be getting on with it. I will see you in due course, my dear.” She kissed Linnet lovingly on the cheek, and then walked back toward the staircase.
Linnet watched her, and then lowered her glance. Oh, how she wished her great-aunt had come around to the betrothal, and therefore to the marriage, but it seemed that that wasn’t to be.
Venetia hurried up the ballroom steps in a flurry of white muslin. “There. What do you think of it?” she asked Linnet, pointing to the finished ballroom.
“It’s truly wonderful.”
Venetia looked sharply at her, detecting a strained note in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
“You seem a little…”
“I’ve been waiting an age for you to stop moving those wretched lumps of ice around,” replied Linnet, smiling.
“I suppose I have been a long time,” admitted Venetia ruefully, “but everything has to be perfect. Speaking of which, has Sommers attended
to everything necessary to keep La Jordan at a distance?”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“Oh, don’t worry, for I’m sure she won’t get in,” reassured Venetia, linking her arm warmly. “Just think about how marvelous a night this is going to be. Oh, I can’t wait for you to see the ring, for I know you’re going to adore it.”
“From which I gather you’ve already seen it?”
“Yes, it was delivered to me yesterday.”
“To you?”
“Until Benedict’s financial affairs are straightened out once and for all, I’m allowing him to use various accounts of mine, including the one at Loudon’s of Bond Street.” Venetia smiled. “Only the very best jeweler in town would do for your betrothal ring.”
Linnet returned the smile, but knew what her great-aunt would have said had she heard. It would be seen by that lady as still further proof that Benedict’s financial affairs weren’t all they should be.
Venetia was looking around the ballroom again. “Oh, I do think it looks excellent. I confess I’m very pleased indeed. Lady Georgiana Cavendish’s ball is about to be completely shipwrecked.”
“It will founder upon the rocks of your brilliance,” Linnet answered her with a laugh.
“It will indeed. After this, I shall have to really excel on the night I at last…” Venetia broke off suddenly, looking quickly away.
What had she almost said? Linnet studied her. “When you at last what?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“Were you thinking of Freddy?” Linnet didn’t know why his name came into her head, but it did.
“No, I certainly wasn’t,” replied Venetia firmly.
“Have you heard from him at all?”
“Not a word, and I don’t really expect to.”