The Indian Maiden

by Edith Layton

  “You have the wrong sow by the ear,” Faith said, her eyes blazing, for once all out of patience with the usually circumspect nobleman, “for I wasn’t afraid in the first place, and I’m not a lady in the second place. I’m an American, and if we are ‘ladies,’ it is only in deportment, and if we aren’t, it simply isn’t important.”

  “Well done,” the earl nodded with approval, “the fire, the spirit, and the context. But my point was only that you could be, a lady that is, in the way we mean it, and no one would object. Certainly not,” he added, his deep voice overriding any comment she could make about her disinterest again, “anyone in my train. For I’m fatherless, poor lad, and the head of my family. My mama positively dotes upon me and while she would not think any lady deserved me, from queen to beggarwoman, she would equally so not question any decision I ever made in the matter.” They were walking beneath an arched trellis hung with huge pink roses, and the atmosphere seemed to be almost suffocatingly bridal to Faith. She could see nothing in the gray eyes that observed her but a faint lurking humor, and nothing but the earl’s words had shown any warmer intent than friendship. But still she did not know what to say to this declaration, for it was more personal than any he’d ever addressed to her. So she reached out a finger to stroke a velvety petal, and said at once to end the unnerving silence, “Does your mama live with you?” And then, realizing that that might sound too much as though she were interested in the more intimate details of the gentleman’s life, she added, “Are you an only child then?”

  He laughed, as though pleased that he had unsettled her, and plucking the same rose that she’d touched, he inhaled it deeply before he tucked her arm securely beneath his and paced with her down through alleyways of roses as he told her about his mama, his elder sister, and his home in the distant north.

  But though he told her of Hedon Castle, and spoke of mottes and baileys and corbels and machicolations and the long stone halls that rang with the history of the Methleys, he did not speak of the dry rot and death-watch beetles and fire damage and slow but sure decay that had kept his home closed for the past years. And though he went on to sing the praises of ancestors who rode to crusades and were flattered by kings, he did not mention his grandfather, who had spent half the fortune his grandfather had not already lost, or his own father, who had never noticed the rest of it ebbing as he’d frittered the last of it away. And when he presented her with the head of the pink rose he’d plucked before she left him to prepare for luncheon, he saw more than a slip of a girl from across the sea in a pink frock as she left him, for he hoped he saw the salvation of his name and his home in her.

  There was no money left. There was scarcely enough to keep him a step ahead of his creditors, and even that step would have to be taken in boots not yet paid for. He should, he knew, have not procrastinated, he should have taken action long before this, put it down to a family failing, he thought bitterly as he stood in the rose-scented garden deep in thought. But at least he would act now. And if by selling himself, he could preserve his inheritance, then that was a very small price to pay for such a precious legacy.

  His home, every cracked flag in its courtyard, every empty hallway, each cobble in its great walls, were more to him than the bones in his own body. A man did not have to marry where he loved, he had never expected to, few noblemen did. One married where wealth was, but the conceit that kept honor intact was that it was an optional, free choice. He had not the luxury of that choice any longer, but then, he was a rational man, and didn’t feel he needed the illusion half so much as he needed the money.

  Had he come to that realization sooner, he imagined he might have taken the last of his funds and invested it, as so many prudent gentlemen did. But he’d never been prudent, and hadn’t understood the modern way to play at being a gentleman. It was pleasant for a nobleman to pretend his money came to him unsullied by the dirty hand of trade, but now, too late, the earl knew otherwise. The Duke of Marchbanks might put it about that Miss Hamilton’s grandfather was an old friend, but the fellow had no title, he had only a vast shipping empire. Where then, did the duke believe his cronies think the friendship had sprung from? The Viking, at least, freely admitted to such investments. But that made his own sojourn here no easier. It was hard for a man with no funds to sit down at an enemy’s full table, no matter how hungry he was. Still, a starving man would be a fool to refuse nourishment for pride’s sake, and so too, he knew he had to remain here with this party of eligible young females.

  It wasn’t easy to associate with these girl children and foolish youths this summer, this summer of his desperation. But he was, he conceded, fortunate in so far as he had discovered a young creature who was more than wealthy enough, intelligent, very handsome, and not an utter fool. He hadn’t thought to wed such as she, no matter how charming, but then, he thought on a shrug, a penniless gentleman, no matter how titled, had not the remotest hope of wedding where he thought he might have before he’d enjoyed that final discussion with his man of business.

  No matter, the earl thought, he was amazingly resilient. To survive one had to be, that was the telling test; his line had not continued for so many generations because it could not accept change. He even found things to look forward to in the decision he’d made. She was clever and appealing. Most of the women he kept company with were females well versed in erotic skills. Though he hadn’t expected very much on that score from any young bride he took, this American girl was surprising on many counts, so there might well be entertainment as well as economic security in the match for him.

  As for her, he could offer quite a bit. He had title, breeding, and intelligence, and though he was not quite the sort of fellow requested to pose for marble statues of the Adonis, he would do; at least he’d not shame her. He’d be an amiable companion, he’d treat her well, surely she expected no more. She’d come to England to wed such a gentleman, no matter what nonsense she spoke of wishing to remain a spinster, of wanting a chance to help arrange her grandfather’s business dealings. It was, he conceded, a charming excuse, almost as good as his own for being here, and about as true as that tale of wanting to visit with his dear friends the Duke and Duchess of Marchbanks again.

  It seemed very near a settled thing. If any other gentlemen had captured her interest, he didn’t know of it. The Viking had burned his fingers once, God knew, and indeed, whatever his aims, he obviously alarmed her as much as he interested her. Rossiter was only a friend, there was ample evidence of that; the lad was transparent in his yearning for Lady Mary. The earl scowled for a moment and then, brightening, thought that though Miss Hamilton was every bit as attractive and attractively dowered as he thought, she had a reckless tongue, and even if another gentleman seemed on the brink of upsetting things, that in itself, with a little aid, would help him dissuade further competitors.

  Soon it would be time to begin the courtship in earnest, but now, the earl thought with a grin, it was time to begin dinner in Stonecrop Hall. And so, neatly beheading another bloom similar to the one he’d presented to Miss Hamilton and breathing deeply of its perfume before discarding it, he strode off to his rooms to ready himself for dinner, and an interesting evening.

  The older members of the party at Stonecrop Hall were pleased and gratified to discover that young Deal had a head on his shoulders and hadn’t been swerved by the dictates of modern fashion. For he didn’t have one of those skimpy, fashionable, one-remove-at-a-time dinners for his guests to pick at. No, his good country cook had done dinner in the old style, and there was a plentitude of venison and beef, veal, poultry, fish and shellfish, in cutlets and steaks and fillets, covered with a parade of sauces, accompanied by several side dishes, and all of it out all at once, for everyone to enjoy at once. Although it must be admitted that it was primarily most of the older ladies and gentlemen who took full advantage of the meal, the younger people being notoriously choosy and frenchified.

  The duchess was very pleased at the dizzying array of viands that t
he gentleman she hoped was her prospective son-in-law put out for all the company. But, as she confided to her wistful husband after dinner when he rejoined the ladies and before she sent him off to the card room so she could get a good earful of gossip, the fellow was unwed and so, of course, could afford to waste good money on a bountiful board. And to further staunch the duke’s sighs over the treats he never tasted at home, she let him know that it was her considered opinion (and as such, good as gold in the bank of wisdom), that once Lord Deal had won their Mary, he’d stop emptying the family coffers for such careless largesse and be more frugal, just as she was herself.

  Never for a minute did the duchess doubt that the invitation had been issued so that Lord Deal could get their Mary to himself, and after impressing her and her family with his lavish assets of house and garden, he would doubtless press his suit for her hand. She would not have laid her nightcap upon her pillow later that night with such a gusty sigh of pleasure if she had known how far that goal or that little white hand were from that gentleman’s mind.

  The dinner had been served in the old style because it had been so long since he’d entertained any but a few friends at his country seat that he’d never given the old cook that dwelt there different instructions. He’d been amused at the table that had been set for the company, but less so when he’d seen the gleam in the duchess’s eye. If he’d known she’d be so impressed, and so clearly, plainly, and blatantly smug about what she just as obviously saw as a bid for her approval, he’d have served the lot of them bread and water and been done with it. But it was over, and now, as the company settled in the drawing room, he resolved to stay as far from the Incomparable Lady Mary as he would from a leper, and since he was a brave and charitable gentleman, he thought he’d stay even a bit further away than he would if she were that unfortunate.

  Of the two Americans, since the gentleman was never a finger’s width away from Lady Mary, it made it that much easier for Lord Deal to decide guiltlessly that it was only the young lady he could speak with in order to ferret out information. However, Miss Hamilton had a court in session now. Her outspokenness had gained her some admirers, her beauty others, and clearly, since Methley remained at her side like her thrown shadow, her fortune yet others. Obviously, it would be difficult to get a word to her, much less resume an oddly begun relationship with her, without an audience as attentive as any at the theater. And so her host decided upon giving a performance.

  “Alas, Miss Hamilton,” he said when he greeted her, coming in to join the ladies with the last of the gentlemen he’d shared his port with, “we do not dance until tomorrow night. What poor hospitality you must think this is! Tonight we’ve nothing on tap except for cards for the venial, conversation for the congenial, and perhaps charades for the theatrical. I’m sorry to say that I haven’t even tuned up my spinet for the musical.” Ignoring both the titters and the general sigh of relief that followed these words, he went on to add, with a show of remorse, “And to think of the wonderful times I had in your own country of an evening.”

  As Faith gazed at him with something very akin to horror in her expression, the earl, at her elbow, looked up with great interest and immediately voiced that which she would never have had the courage to say unless she’d been provoked beyond reason. “How odd, Deal, for though I should think what you were up to in Miss Hamilton’s homeland of an evening would be positively inspiring to us, I didn’t believe it the sort of thing you could relate in mixed company, that is, company that included Americans.”

  “Oh no, Methley.” Lord Deal laughed, throwing his leonine head back theatrically as he did so and treating the company to a show of gleaming white teeth. “My poor reputation! Why New York is a charming city, but just like our London, not all of it is devoted to the fleshpots. I was there for several months, and surely, whatever you think of my morals, during all that time please believe there were a great many activities I took part in that can be discussed in any company.”

  “Indeed?” the earl said quietly, as all the guests, and not only Faith, stood by breathlessly. It appeared that the challenge, thrust, and parry going on between the two tall gentlemen was no less noticeable for all that it was cloaked in polite language and taking place in a drawing room, than it would have been if it were out in the open, and being enacted before tall oaks at dawn.

  “Ah well,” the earl sighed as he shrugged helplessly, though a certain glitter of amusement shone through his cold steady stare, “if you are sure the foreign office, as well as Miss Hamilton’s patriotic sensibilities, will not be disturbed by such tattle. It is only that I wondered at the advisability of airing such matters...” His words drifted off as he made it apparent that he was giving up his protests for the sake of good manners, in the name of civility, and not because of his amiability toward his opponent.

  But his host’s next words, spoken with high good humor, erased all traces of benign tolerance from his face.

  “I do remember that you always had difficulty with sums, Methley,” Lord Deal said merrily, and as the double-edged statement came clear enough to cut its recipient, he added, “and it’s rather too bad that age has not corrected the problem. For nearly as I recall, I was last a sojourner in the Americas just after the cessation of hostilities, a matter of some year and a half ago, and then an English gentleman, although perhaps not likely to be voted the most popular fellow, was not precisely an outcast. Nor,” he said, as confusion became manifest in Miss Hamilton’s large gray eyes and her lovely lips began to open on a question her host would rather she did not voice in company, “an enemy. I had been there previously, to be sure,” he admitted without a blink as she continued staring at him, “but I liked the land and the people so well I returned for another, shall we say, more comprehensive visit. I stayed with Mr. Sanford in New York, as a matter of fact,” he added, and Faith’s eyes flew wide.

  “The lawyer?” Faith blurted. “But I know him. He lives near us. But then ... you must know Mr. DeWitt, and the Parsonses too. And if you stayed there, you must have passed our house a dozen times, for we’re not far.”

  “But alas, I never saw you,” Lord Deal said softly, “for if I had, I doubt I would ever have returned to Stonecrop Hall again. At least,” he added, on an inclination of his head, as if he made a symbolic bow to her, “not alone.”

  Their attentive audience stirred slightly. This was gallantry, and as such permissible, but it was also very near to something more, something quotable. Trust such a dashing gentleman to step so close to the edge, one envious lady thought on a sigh, and to do it with such perilously delicate grace. But instead of coloring up nicely and dropping her gaze as she took down the delicious compliment, like a good girl, Miss Hamilton paled and looked more like she wished she could take to her heels to flee.

  “Then you must have seen that Indian tribe she was telling us about,” an excited Lord Greyville interrupted, “the Mohegan chaps.”

  “Ah, yes, the fierce, painted ones she mentioned.” Lord Deal sighed. He watched Miss Hamilton very closely, and as her gaze lifted from her slippers at his words, to look straight into his own eyes with a certain mute entreaty, he smiled and said, “Of course. But they’re all gathered on the outskirts of town. Luckily, I stayed in the heart of the city. And there one can safely have quite a good time in a more civilized fashion. Oh yes,” he went on, as he saw his American guest finally exhale slowly, “New York has such wonderful places to visit that it can quite make you forget how dangerous it can be at times. Did you know they have pleasure gardens, just like ours, and similarly named? I passed quite an enjoyable evening at their Vauxhall, for example,” he continued, and soon was entertaining his guests with tales of the sights and spectacles of New York. Though they were less bloodcurdling than Miss Hamilton’s, they were so fascinating that many of the guests decided to forego the card table to hear them out. In fact, Gilbert North could be heard commenting to his friends by the time the evening was out, that New York sounded quite lively, very like
a dashed fine place to visit actually, as a change from Paris, that was to say. Though, he added reflectively, with all the dangers from the wildmen, one wouldn’t actually want to live there, of course.

  Though the evening had been successful, at least one guest, the Earl of Methley, did not look best pleased when he left Miss Hamilton to go up to his own room. For while she curtsied prettily to him, it was the first time in hours that she’d looked at him. Most of the night she’d watched her host more attentively than a young woman hearing the virtues of her homeland being sung might be expected to, unless she was some sort of patriotic fanatic.

  But his host was very gratified with the way the first evening at his home had gone. When he’d said his good night to his American guest, he’d made sure that they were far enough from the others for her to have a private word with him if she wished, and she did, and that word was most encouraging. For she’d looked at him with great sincerity and said a heartfelt, “Thank you. You made my country look very well, and myself as well. You could have made great sport of me, you know. I thank you.”

  And then she’d grinned up at him at the last. Unexpectedly and breathlessly suddenly, she’d grinned, in that second looking so warm and genuinely charming as her nose wrinkled and a small unforeseen dimple appeared on her chin from out of nowhere to fascinate him, that he just as suddenly found himself wishful of tendering her far more than his perfect bow as she was about to leave him at the foot of the stair.

  Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, she changed again, and something very much like fear appeared in her eyes, and she stammered a less confident thank you once again, and left, no, he thought, fled, to her rooms. He was heartened by this, because he felt it could mean no other thing but that she’d taken his warnings to heart at last, and was now being so extremely circumspect that she was afraid a display of such sudden warmth might be misconstrued and gossiped about by the company.