Lady Elizabeth's Comet

by Sheila Simonson

"If you'll go down by the fountain in the formal garden Sims has something for you."

  Jean and Maggie excused themselves with muffled shrieks and shot down the stairs like meteors.

  Miss Bluestone, Alice, Clanross, and I followed at a more sedate pace.

  The union of dog and mistress was definitely affecting and, in duplicate, very funny. If Aunt Whitby, despite her beaked nose, bore some small resemblance to her pug, there was no doubt Clanross had found the exact match for my sisters. Redheaded, Celtic, and full of spirits--all four of them. Miss Bluestone was completely disarmed. She laughed till her eyes streamed, and I think Clanross enjoyed her response almost as much as the girls'.

  They thanked him without self-consciousness and returned to their romping.

  We watched the girls for awhile in silence. Then Clanross said abruptly, "Next year they'd be insulted."

  "What do you mean? Good heavens, you're right. They'll turn sixteen. Very grown up and haughty. I'm not sure I can bear it."

  The thought made me feel antique. I remembered the twins' appearance on the scene very well and my Papa's ill-concealed chagrin. "Both of 'em girls." I had been twelve, no thirteen, a great gawky hoyden and given to collecting rocks. My governess, unlike Miss Bluestone, had frowned on unladylike clutter. Why she objected to rocks I don't know. I might have taken to snakes or beetles.

  "What are their names, Clanross?" Maggie ran up, breathless, followed by one red puppy. Girl and dog looked up at Clanross with much the same expression. The puppy's tail thumped.

  Clanross's mouth quirked at the corners, but he answered her gravely. "Sims has been calling them Niño and Niña. You needn't be bound by that, though."

  "Nina." Maggie tested the word on her tongue. "What does it mean?"

  "'Boy' and 'girl' in Spanish."

  Maggie's face fell.

  "Not very exotic," Clanross said sympathetically. "They're Irish gun dogs. Does that help?"

  As Maggie ran off to tell Jean of the latest crisis a thought struck me. "Boy and girl. Good God, sir, do you realise what you've wrought?"

  "There should be no more than half a dozen of them by the time the twins make their come-out." He gazed at a point some feet above the fountain.

  I began to laugh. "I may reconsider your offer to keep them in the Brecon stables, Clanross. Half a dozen? Poor Victory."

  "Very educational," Miss Bluestone said firmly. Alice sneezed.

  * * * *

  The birthday dinner was something of an anticlimax but pleasant all the same. The girls had to be restrained only twice from dashing out to the stables to inspect their puppies. We talked dog for quite a while and then, as was usually the case when Miss Bluestone was about, travel. Clanross had the edge there. He had seen a great deal of foreign service.

  "Were you ever in Ireland, my lord?" Miss Bluestone's mind was still on the dogs.

  "Mostly in Kildare," Clanross said. "It's flat country but green. Beautiful horses and, er, handsome women." I watched with some amusement as he hastily edited his recollections for a female audience.

  "Are they very strange?" Maggie, eyes wide.

  Clanross raised his brows. "Irish women?"

  "No," she said impatiently. "That is, yes--the men and the women. Are they wild and gothick, and do they drink strange spirits and dance jigs?"

  "People are much the same anywhere--wild and gothick and doing odd things all the time."

  Maggie flushed and grinned, but pursued her course. "What about names? What were the ladies called?" She was still searching for an appropriate name for her wee bitch.

  "Mostly Sarah and Elizabeth and Maria."

  She made a face. "Too tame."

  "Certainly too tame for a gun dog. I'm not being very helpful. Has Jean picked a name?"

  "Yes," said Jean in throbbing accents. "Tom." She was still in the throes of calf love and quite tactless with it.

  Clanross flushed. "An unusual choice. It's more often associated with cats than with dogs, I believe."

  That threw both girls into the giggles, and Alice turned the subject by asking Clanross if he knew the Finches of Fermoy. Clearly, he did not, but he listened to her blessedly brief list of Irish connections with his usual courtesy, and then Miss Bluestone asked him if he had sailed to South America from the Cove of Cork.

  It seemed he had. I hadn't known that. The Southern Cross! The Magellanic Clouds! I began interrogating him about the appearance of the southern sky, Maggie and Jean expressed curiosity about monkeys and parrots, and Miss Bluestone about exotic plants. He replied tranquilly. We finished our meal before we knew it.

  Indeed, the whole evening passed pleasantly and quickly. The girls had to show Clanross their other gifts. Mine--I had given them Mr. Scott's poetry--seemed to me much less imaginative than Clanross's dogs or even Miss Bluestone's carefully potted sequoia seedlings, and I began to wonder why. I liked my sisters, but I daresay I didn't think about them very much. At least Scott's poetry was a cut above the identical reticules Alice gave them.

  Clanross left early, promising to help the twins find an appropriate site for the giant redwoods on the morrow. Perhaps he saw that I wished to go up to my telescope. I was almost sorry to see him leave. We all accompanied him to the door.

  "He moves much easier." Alice sneezed.

  "Hydrotherapy," Miss Bluestone uttered. "Lady Jean, I wish to speak to you." Miss Bluestone no longer employed the girls' style except when their behaviour offended her. I fancied Jean was about to hear a lecture on the impropriety of her dog, however well bred, running about using the earl of Clanross's Christian name.

  Since their mother's death the twins had been shunted from Anne to Kitty to me. I daresay they had felt extraneous. When Papa died and I was found to have possession of the Dower House, Kitty threatened to dump them on me without ceremony. I resisted but finally gave in. I knew very well what I had felt. Now I began to consider the girls' feelings.

  Was Clanross's idea a good one? If--when I married, to set up the Dower House as my young sisters' home? All kinds of objections might be raised, not the least of which was what his bride would say if he married and brought her to Brecon. Would she relish acting the stepmama to five wild damsels, left over, as it were, from the previous regime--even in separate households?

  Clanross ought to marry, I decided as I prepared once more to ascend to my telescope. I would find him a bride. Not a ninny like Cecilia. Someone who would love my sisters and make them happy. And Clanross, too, of course. Where could I find such a paragon?

  Chapter 17

  Aunt Whitby descended on me a full month after Willoughby left. To my surprise, she did not bring Cecilia with her.

  "Has Cecilia gone home to mama?"

  Aunt snorted. "Can't stand the woman. No, Cecy's still at Briarlea with the young surgeon at her heels. I'll be glad when they're wed."

  "Is she happy?"

  "In alt," Aunt said gloomily. "Sickening. I daresay she'll temper her high flights eventually."

  "And Willoughby?"

  "Told him never to darken my doorstep." She snorted again but it was an indulgent snort. I felt sure Willoughby would soon be back in her good graces.

  By the time she had taken her nuncheon with us, I was on edge. Clearly, she thought Maggie and Jean pert, Alice dull, and Miss Bluestone blue. I bundled her back in her barouche as soon as courtesy allowed.

  "I intend you to come with me, niece." Pug yipped.

  I glanced wildly about but there was no help in sight. "Where?"

  Aunt snorted. "Brecon, witling. I mean to call on Clanross."

  Muttering maledictions, I scrambled in beside her. Pug nipped my ankle.

  At Aunt's command the equipage--a newfangled vehicle, lavishly upholstered and sprung--swung up along the carriageway.

  "Tell me about Clanross."

  "Surely Cecilia has already done so."

  She clucked impatiently. "Cecilia's head is in the clouds. Can't get a sensible word out of the gel. I want your view, m
iss. Treat you civil?"

  Aunt Whitby always reduced me to the stammering incoherence of a ten-year-old.

  "Yes, of course. Very civil." I glanced even more wildly about and spotted Clanross walking up from the lake to Brecon. "See for yourself, Aunt. There he is."

  "Where?" She peered out, roaring to her coachman to stop.

  I suppressed a nervous giggle. Clanross had halted and stood for a moment irresolute. Probably he was wondering if he could effect an escape. With a slight shrug, he apparently made up his mind to face the musick and strolled over.

  We watched him in silence. I surmised he had just come from the lake, for he was coatless, his shirt stuck to his chest in damp patches, and his hair wasn't dry. As he came closer, Aunt fixed her eyeglass on him and made an appreciative noise.

  When he reached us she drew herself up. "Well, Clanross?"

  He contrived a polite bow. "Lady Whitby. Inspecting the outposts? Hullo, Elizabeth."

  I cast him a beseeching and explanatory look. Very eloquent.

  "In my day," Aunt pronounced, "a gentleman did not receive ladies in his shirtsleeves," but she didn't really sound displeased.

  He smiled. "You've caught me out, ma'am. I'd best amend matters. Perhaps you'll direct Jenkins to make her ladyship comfortable, Elizabeth." He did not await further discussion but bowed again and strode off, disappearing at last into the east wing.

  "Well!" Aunt settled back. Incredibly, she was smiling.

  We descended before the grand entrance, I following in her train like a dog trailing a regimental band.

  Aunt viewed Brecon narrowly outside and in, suspicious of change. As there was none, beyond a screen or two and a branch of blossoms someone had stuck in a vase in the withdrawing room, she settled herself almost without comment in the most comfortable chair and proceeded to interrogate the quavering Jenkins on his duties, comfort, happiness, and the state of his soul. Finally, she allowed him to go about his business.

  "Well, niece, does your father's successor meet with your approbation?" Her beady eyes bored into mine.

  I leashed my temper. "He'll do. I daresay Willoughby's account of this business of Cecilia and Charles was highly coloured. Clanross's conduct to Willoughby was unexceptionable."

  "The boy is at all times a prey to envy. In this case, you'll allow he has reason."

  I did not allow it but closed my lips and refused to be drawn. I was surprised she would admit Willoughby's jealousy.

  She said, mildly for her, "I met Clanross at your sister Anne's last autumn. I thought him wooden but civil."

  "He was ill."

  "So it would seem. Nursed him yourself, eh?"

  "Who told you?"

  "It's common gossip, and Cecilia confirmed it. She's a featherwit, but not, I think, a liar."

  Fortunately, Jenkins entered with minions bearing the tray for him. I was grateful that Sims was lying low. Aunt would not understand Sims. We did not require refreshment, having just tucked into a substantial nuncheon, but Aunt amused herself selecting cook's best efforts for her obnoxious pug. I drank an unwanted cup of tea and watched the wee darling's antics with distaste. Aunt was quite at home.

  Presently Clanross appeared, properly clad in frock coat, pantaloons, and hessians, and Aunt drew herself up for the fray.

  "You look well, Lady Whitby," he ventured cautiously.

  "I expect to last forever. I could not have said the same for you, sir, last time I saw you. I perceive you are greatly improved. Indeed, you have the look of your father. I did not see the resemblance before."

  "Scarcely a flattering comparison." His tone was cool.

  "Still rankles, does it? He was a scoundrel, true enough, but a well-looking man. One of my flirts. Of course poor Henry went off sadly at the end." Unexpectedly Aunt cackled. "I shall never forget my brother Clanross's outrage when he found you had run off to America."

  I gasped.

  Clanross raised his brows at her. "It seemed the safest course."

  "Turned violent, did he?"

  "In his cups. He was not of a domestic habit."

  Aunt cackled again and dropped a morsel into pug's slavering jaws. "My brother could not well blame you for running off, but he thought you might have chosen a less remote haven."

  At that Clanross grinned. "I meant to become a pirate." Fortunately, neither of them required my comment for I was struck dumb with astonishment.

  "And you failed of your object?" Aunt's eyes did not precisely twinkle but I could see she was amused.

  "Alas, there are few eleven-year-old pirates in Halifax."

  Aunt cackled.

  I was horrified. Eleven! "How did you live?" I burst out.

  "After a month or so knocking about the waterfront, I was given work as a stable boy with a Scots farmer who sold officers' remounts." Clanross cocked an eyebrow at me. "I learnt something of the army and a great deal about horses."

  "I daresay that didn't suit Papa's pride."

  "I was told he found my conduct unfilial, ungentlemanly, and inexplicable."

  My gaping astonishment at this whole set of exchanges must have been obvious.

  Clanross looked at me. "It is borne upon me that Lady Elizabeth has been kept in the dark about my wicked past. I always fancied I'd been held up in the nursery as a Horrible Example. Such is vanity."

  "If you dare tell Jean and Maggie..." I began, rather grim, because in truth I was shocked.

  Incredibly, Aunt rose to his defence. "Pho! A splendid adventure. I daresay you thrived on it, eh, Clanross?"

  "I grew a foot," Clanross admitted. "However, I shall certainly not tell the twins. They might not have my luck."

  "Different for gels," Aunt said with real regret. "I daresay you didn't want to come back, but all's well that ends well. M'brother was quite right to send for you."

  "I came willingly enough, ma'am--once Parson Freeman, whom Lord Clanross sent after me, assured me my esteemed parent was dead. There are limits to the delights of shovelling muck."

  She gave a crack of laughter and crumbled another bit of cake on the carpet for dear pug.

  I was still prey to my astonishment, not the least of which was Aunt's obvious approval of Clanross's exploit. I sat like a stock.

  "Well, now," said my outrageous kinswoman, "I doubt you wonder what brings me to you, Clanross."

  "Impertinent curiosity," I muttered inaudibly.

  Clanross waited.

  "I came to discuss your marriage."

  "Do you mean Miss Gore's marriage?"

  She popped another bit in pug's fat face. "No. Yours."

  "I'm not conscious of having made any such commitment."

  "I trust not."

  "I came very close in Freneda," he said helpfully. His eyes lit with unholy amusement. "She ran off with a commissary who made her a better offer."

  Aunt ignored that. "Be guided by me. You need a lady who won't be overset by her high station, and I daresay you don't number many such amongst your acquaintance. Look at Her Grace of Wellington."

  "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

  She ignored that also. "Disastrous, poor woman. Shortsighted, timid, no idea of dressing as a duchess ought, no conversation. A lady, of course, but sadly provincial. As ambassadress she's hopeless. No wonder the duke looks elsewhere."

  Clanross kept a straight face with visible effort. "It's a shade unlikely that I'll be called upon to serve as ambassador to France, Lady Whitby."

  "Don't be literal-minded. You need a wife bred to move in the first circles."

  "Like Cecilia Conway-Gore," he murmured, dulcet.

  "Nonsense. A beautiful ninnyhammer."

  Clanross and I both stared.

  She regarded us with the unwinking eye of a bird. "Think I'm an old fool, don't you? Well, I ain't. You're five-or six-and-thirty, I collect, Clanross. High time you was wed, and to someone suitable--like Elizabeth. I daresay you've compromised her as is."

  Clanross did not look at me, which was fortunate
. I believe I went purple with rage. He said merely, "If Lady Elizabeth judges an offer necessary, she has it, of course. I'd be surprised if she accepted."

  "Nothing on earth would compel me to marry for such a nonsensical reason." I kept my voice below a screech with effort. "And if you bully me, Aunt, I'll--I'll join the navy."

  "Elizabeth!"

  "I shall. I'll ride nude through the streets of Chacton. No, perhaps not. But I swear I'll create such a scandal as has never before been recorded in Conway annals."

  "Oh, will you, miss?"

  "I mean what I say."

  "Here," Clanross said plaintively, "we were discussing my marriage, not Lady Elizabeth's."

  I subsided, fuming.

  "What other candidates had you in mind, ma'am? I knew some very pretty girls in St. Jean de Luz."

  She swelled dangerously, and pug looked downright vicious. "I warn you both I will not be made mock of."

  Clanross said pacifically, "Indeed, ma'am, I mean to marry. As you say, it's my duty if Gore won't. I'll be sure to consult you. Do you go up to Town for Lady Sarah Tyrell's wedding? I'd be glad to escort you, and you could, er, survey the possibilities for me then."

  She brightened. "There is Lady Barbara."

  "Too young." Clanross looked regretful, as well he might. Bab Tyrell is a famous beauty.

  "Very true," said my aunt, mollified. "You won't be wanting a green girl. Should you object to a widow? The Tyrell wedding, eh? That's not a bad plan, Clanross. A fortnight from now, I believe. Yes, yes, I accept your escort. Mind, I travel by easy stages."

  "Then we're in accord, ma'am. So do I."

  "You may ride with me, Elizabeth," Aunt said graciously.

  "I thank you, Aunt, but Alice comes, too, and we'd crowd you unduly. Lord Bevis has promised us his escort."

  "Bevis, eh?" Her sharp eyes glinted, but she did not take me up. I believe she was too pleased with herself.

  Poor Clanross. He really did not deserve such a fate. Of course, he need not be subjected to pug on the journey, for he could ride beside the carriage. Still, to distract Aunt from savaging me was a noble sacrifice on his part, and I meant to tell him so as soon as I freed myself of Aunt's company.

  That was less difficult than I anticipated. She wanted to reach home before her rather early dinner hour, so she made her adieux to Clanross, swept out to the barouche, pug in tow, and parted from me abruptly at the Dower House door.