Lady Elizabeth's Comet

by Sheila Simonson

The sunset was particularly beautiful that evening, casting a rosy glow on everything, including my burning cheeks. We walked a good ten yards in silence. He seemed disinclined to speak, and I was groping for words. "Clanross?"

  "Yes."

  I looked at his face, calm and remote in the failing light, and cried craven. "Er, shall you be gone long?"

  "I don't know. There are problems in Meath."

  "That's odd," I said at random. "Is the agent unreliable?"

  "I've had rumours..." He broke off and continued in a cool, remote voice. "The demesnes are rack-rented. I don't like that, and I don't care for what I hear of wholesale evictions near Killeggan." He added, with careful justice, "The agent is efficient, certainly."

  "Papa never felt obliged to go to Ireland." I bit my lip. Why must I always say the wrong thing?

  "I know. That's one of the problems."

  I was too depressed to reply.

  "Have they sent you the galleys of your article to correct?"

  The change of subject disconcerted me. "Er, yes. Ages ago. It comes out next month."

  "I look forward to reading it."

  "It's kind in you to take an interest," I muttered.

  He stopped dead and looked down at me with something akin to exasperation in his face. "I ooze kindness, of course. One of my many sterling virtues. Does it never occur to you that your discovery is interesting in itself?"

  "I daresay you think me a great fool."

  "I think..." He broke off, and I did not learn what he thought. After a pause, he said in a flat voice, "I think you're an excellent astronomer, and that I should say good evening, or we'll be escorting one another up and down the path to Brecon until dawn. Good night, Elizabeth."

  "Good night." I extended my hand. "I wish you a safe journey." He did not bow over my hand but took it in a brief, warm clasp that was wonderfully comforting. "Goodbye."

  I watched him out of sight in the dusk. He didn't look back--that was not his style.

  Chapter 23

  I needed an excuse to go to London in time for Clanross's entry to the House of Lords. For more than a month I brooded over the problem. I toyed with counterfeiting a toothache, but I was sure Alice would drag me off to her practitioner in Grantham if I complained. I considered announcing that I was to attend a scientific meeting at Montague House. I even thought of inventing an illness for Anne, though, in view of her attitude toward me since my refusal of Bevis, no one with any sense would believe she had asked for me.

  Miss Bluestone rescued me. Late in September she announced that the girls' wardrobes wanted refurbishing. I agreed and said I would take them to Grantham.

  "If you insist, my lady, but I rather think it time they accustom themselves to a more fashionable milieu."

  "Fashionable?" I stared.

  Erect in serviceable bombazine, she met my eyes without blushing. "Mrs. Finch and I are agreed. It takes some years to form a sense of fashion and that is a matter in which my own judgement is deficient. I acknowledge it. You, I believe, were guided by your stepmother. Mrs. Finch has pointed out that you are now the proper person to guide your sisters in matters of appearance. I believe your eye for colour is exact, and you'll allow, my lady, that with their hair they'll require careful dressing by the best modistes."

  My colour-sense had more than once rescued my taste, which is otherwise undistinguished. I eyed Miss Bluestone with suspicion. "Send them to Anne. She'll know what young girls are wearing."

  "Young girls are wearing muslins," Miss Bluestone said mildly. "They always do. That's not quite the point, my lady. I'd like my charges to see the range of fashions to be had in Town, to learn to judge a bolt of cloth for quality and to have some notion of which gewgaws to reject. Jean has lately developed a passion for coquelicot ribbons which cannot be said to suit her."

  "Oh dear, no." Why resist? "We'll all go. In a sennight."

  "A fortnight would be better."

  "Oh, would it?" Parliament were to sit in three weeks.

  Miss Bluestone took the gloves off. "Jean and Margaret wish to see his lordship take his seat."

  I said nothing.

  "So do I," she added. "If Mr. Featherstonehaugh can obtain places for us."

  I gave up even the pretence of resistance. "Why did you not say so at once, ma'am? All this nonsense about fashion..."

  There I had gone too far. "I might wish it were nonsense," Miss Bluestone said, kindly but firmly, "but for young ladies of their station it is not. Let's kill two birds with one stone. Besides," and she added the clincher, "their pelisses are beginning to fray at the seams and their wrists stick out."

  I threw up my hands in mock surrender.

  * * * *

  I was grateful to Miss Bluestone when I wrote Anne, for educating Jean and Maggie into clothes-sense was a project my sister could undertake with enthusiasm. Otherwise, I daresay our reception in her household would have been cool.

  When we reached Town at last, I had cause to regret the pretext of our coming. Anne insisted on a systematic campaign of shopping that would have done credit to the intellect of a Bonaparte. Our mornings seemed destined to be filled with raids on cloth warehouses and our afternoons with sieges of fittings. I was definitely included in the Forlorn Hope.

  Anne did not mince words. "I've resigned myself to a spinster sister but not to a frump."

  "Anne!"

  "I won't be seen with you in a gown obviously purchased to celebrate the battle of Vitoria."

  As Vitoria was now at least five years past, that was a base slander, but I know when it's time to retreat. I resigned myself to being poked with pins. I even allowed Anne's mincing M. LeFleche to deal with my hair. Fortunately, he did not crop it. When Anne's last trumpet sounded I could always cause Dobbins to pull it back in a knot as usual.

  When the first of my evening gowns was delivered, Anne sent out cards for what she called a nice little dinner--twenty couples and a three-piece string ensemble. It was by then the day before Parliament were to sit, so the evening was bound to be political as well as musical. She had invited Clanross--and Bella Forster.

  To add to my crise de nerfs, Jean and Maggie sulked because Anne had not included them among her guests.

  "But darlings, do you like to sit at dinner for three hours?"

  "Yes." Maggie set her jaw.

  "We have proper gowns now even if they are dismal old muslin." Jean had tried to hold out for shot silk. "We could put our hair up."

  "No, absolutely not. You're not even sixteen."

  They both looked injured.

  "I know your manners are unexceptionable and that you wouldn't squirm and giggle, but Anne doesn't. It will be a gathering of important political personages. You can't blame her for avoiding the risk."

  It was clear they could blame her and did.

  "Perhaps you could join the ladies afterwards for half an hour or so."

  Maggie brightened.

  Jean's face assumed a calculating expression. "Then may we put our hair up?"

  "No! The withdrawing room, muslins, hair down. That's my last and best offer."

  "Well..."

  "What think you, Miss Bluestone?" I turned to the governess, conscious abruptly that I had banished her to the schoolroom as well as my sisters.

  She said tranquilly, "It's a good plan. Jean and Margaret won't wish to stay up very late. We must rise betimes if we're to arrive at Westminster Hall before the worst of the crowds."

  "Bless you," I said sotto voce. "I'll ask Anne directly."

  Anne was not best pleased, but I blackmailed her by threatening a migraine and she gave in. "You'll spoil them, Liz. What will they have to look forward to when they make their come-out?"

  I fell into the whoops.

  Even Anne had to acknowledge that her political dinners were not the height of fifteen-year-old social phantasy. She conceded a reluctant grin. "Oh, very well, Lisbet. Let 'em come down this once."

  I knew by her use of my childhood nickname that she
was in a fair way to forgiving me for refusing Bevis. I felt some relief at that. I prefer to be on good terms with Anne. We are not much alike but we have always been friends.

  As I made my tedious and elaborate toilet that evening my spirits sank. Why had Anne invited Bella? They were not friends. At least they hadn't been used to moving in the same circles, for Bella wasn't political-minded. I fancied Anne knew something that I did not.

  Not to put too fine a point upon it, I feared that Bella and Clanross had become objects of matrimonial speculation among the Ton. Why else would my sister, who always selects her guests for their influence or their political acumen, have pulled in an outsider like Bella? However charming she might be, she could serve no political purpose.

  I worried the puzzle over in my mind as Dobbins, who had watched M. LeFleche's efforts with breathless attention, attempted to recreate his modish effects with my stubborn hair.

  "Ha!"

  "Satisfied?"

  "It will have to do, my lady. There was just something..." She darted at me with the comb. I restrained myself from leaping out of range. "Ahhh, that's the ticket. I beg pardon, my lady, I'm sure."

  I looked at my reflection. A stranger with a glossy cascade of chestnut curls gave me back an unwinking hazel stare. "Lawk a mercy, this is none of I," I muttered. I hoped Clanross wouldn't laugh too hard.

  Dobbins beamed. "There, my lady. You look a fair treat."

  "I look like mutton dressed as lamb," I corrected tartly, "and we both know it. Well, where is Madame Millamant's ludicrous creation? The gown, Dobbins, the gown."

  Dobbins eased me into the gown, holding her breath. Madame's creation was made up in shades of apricot, nicely subdued by touches of cream lace at the wrist. It was cut severely. I'd wanted lace at the neckline, too, but both Madame and Anne had shrieked at that, so the décolletage was too extreme for my taste. I could feel the draughts already.

  "Your diamonds, my lady?"

  "No. Mama's gold chain."

  Dobbins moaned and obeyed. The gold chain was delicate but old-fashioned. It had no stones at all. I made her loop it twice and stared at the result. "The topaz earrings."

  She groaned again. They, too, were vaguely passé, but they looked very well with Monsieur's coiffure. I'd thought they might. I settled the lace shawl across my elbows and consented to Dobbins's nearly tearful pleas that I also don a bracelet. "The plain gold, if you please."

  "But my lady..."

  "Do hush. I know what I'm about." I didn't, but I knew better than to wear a diamond bracelet with topaz earrings.

  There was a scratch at the door and Anne entered. "Stand up."

  I rose, staring at her mutinously. She stared back. She looked very handsome, in blonde lace and three and a half pounds of diamonds.

  "Well, Liz, at least no one will take you for a frump. Come along, we're stayed for."

  I took my reticule from Dobbins's faint grasp and followed my sister's lead.

  As we descended to the first floor I searched for a way to ask Anne why she had invited Bella, but she was so busy filling me in on the political connexions of her lesser guests I couldn't squeeze a word in edgewise. Perhaps it was just as well.

  I sailed into the salon determined to give Bella a run for her money.

  She had not yet come. Clanross had.

  He and Featherstonehaugh had been talking, low-voiced, by the hearth. They turned as Anne hailed them and came forward.

  "Ah, Clanross, a signal occasion tomorrow. Have you run Dunarvon to earth yet?" My sister extended her hand brusquely.

  Clanross bowed over it. He looked a trifle dazed and did not answer her. "Elizabeth?"

  I held out my hand, surprised to find it was steady. I believe I said something. I know I flushed.

  Featherstonehaugh beamed at us. "Upon my word, you ladies are handsomely tricked out this evening. Handsome, indeed."

  I could have slain him. Tricked out, indeed. I felt the veriest imposter. My face flamed and I could not meet Clanross's eyes.

  Fortunately, Anne's butler announced the first of the guests almost immediately, so poor Clanross was not required to concoct compliments. He said nothing.

  Bella did not arrive until the others, Willoughby included, were milling about and rumbling their anticipation of the speech from the throne or Anne's menu, according to their interests. I was soon cut off from my sister by a young MP who insisted on telling me the gist of his maiden speech. I believe it dealt with the Corn Laws.

  I could see Bella's entrance. She came properly escorted by an ancient personage I vaguely recognised as the member for Hull, a cousin of the late Lord Whitby. Aunt, thank God, was not present. I don't think I could have borne Aunt and Bella.

  Bella looked as if every woman ought to be the widow of a Nabob. She was stunning in pure white. Even my MP paused in his recitation as she entered. The blazing simplicity of her gown made me look like a basket of hothouse fruit. I was momentarily numbed by defeat.

  My parliamentary captor rambled on beside me, unhindered by my lack of interest. When I had gathered my wits and courage, I edged off in Bella's direction. I don't know what I meant to do--throw ink on her? I was forestalled by the dinner announcement.

  As Bella and her escort moved to take their place in the line, she caught sight of me and gave me a wide and totally friendly smile. I believe I caused my lips to shape a smile in response. I hope so.

  Dinner dragged on and on. I was stuck between my MP and an elderly, very deaf baron who controlled two rotten boroughs. I ate very little.

  At least Anne had not placed Bella beside Clanross. Bella sat by Willoughby, and the two of them carried on a long, low-voiced conversation.

  As befitted his station, Clanross was placed at Anne's right hand, and he conversed amiably with her and with the plump matron on his right, and only looked my way twice, so far as I know. He did smile at me. That was over the savoury. I don't recall that I had the wit to smile back.

  At long last, Anne signalled the ladies to withdraw. I abandoned my dinner partners without regret.

  The twins were pretty-behaved under the trying circumstance of meeting upwards of a dozen curious matrons, most of whom exclaimed over them as if they were a pair of dolls and not two intelligences with different interests and temperaments. I was glad we had decided not to dress them alike.

  I was relieved when the girls and Miss Bluestone made a smooth exit. So relieved that I did not catch the low-voiced conversation that had resumed between two of the matrons until I heard the words, "Mrs. Forster, my dear. I understand the announcement will be in Wednesday's Gazette. I have seldom been so surprised."

  Oh dear God, I thought, numb. They're betrothed. What shall I do?

  I broke in on the ladies without preamble. "I could not help overhearing, ma'am. Whose betrothal were you speaking of? Arabella Forster's?"

  The younger of the two stared. I had crept up on them. The elder smiled. "Yes, indeed, Lady Elizabeth. I daresay you know all the details. Arabella Forster and Willoughby Conway-Gore. He is your cousin, is he not?"

  Willoughby! "Are you sure?" I croaked.

  "I had it from Lady Haverford." The matron looked offended that I should cast doubt on her word.

  I found I was gripping the back of a vacant chair. My shawl had slipped down from one shoulder. I daresay I looked a guy, but I felt like a soaring balloon. I felt like my own comet.

  Dear Willoughby. No, I must not succumb either to hope or the vapours, not on the basis of mere rumour. I mumbled something to the matrons by way of excuse, my eyes frantically searching the room. Where in the world was Bella? Ah, there. She smiled at me and beckoned.

  I made my way to her as gingerly as a cat on hot tiles. "Bella..."

  "Hullo, Liz. Have you heard my news?" She was so lovely she glistened. "Won't you felicitate me?"

  "I have heard," I said very carefully, "that you mean to marry Willoughby Conway-Gore. Can it be true?"

  She gave a delightful gurgle of mirth.
"Yes, indeed. Isn't it famous? The poor boy doesn't know whether he's on his head or his heels."

  I sat beside her on the ivory brocade of the sopha--very carefully. "Famous." My voice sounded hollow.

  She took my hand. "We'll be cousins, Liz. Do say you're glad."

  I tried to bring some order to my reeling senses. "Glad? I'm delighted! But Bella, are you sure? Willoughby?"

  She withdrew her grasp, her brilliant eyes dark and a little hurt. "Why yes, of course. Willoughby. Whom else..." Her eyes narrowed.

  I gave up any pretence at dissembling. "Clanross."

  She regarded me a moment with her head cocked. I daresay my relief was written all over my face. I didn't even blush.

  Bella said softly, for the musicians had begun, "We must talk. When may I call?"

  "Tomorrow. Oh, Lord. Parliament."

  She gave a snort of laughter. "Never tell me you're going to sit through the speech from the throne! Dear Liz, too patriotic."

  I smiled at her, or perhaps I beamed. "My sisters were anxious to attend and I'd best go with them. I promised. Come to me on Wednesday morning. Anne and the girls are going to Mme. Tussaud's. I'll beg off."

  "Done," she whispered. We both gave our attention to the sonatina. It sounded, to me at least, curiously like the music of the spheres. Wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful.

  Chapter 24

  By the time the gentlemen joined us I had returned to a kind of sanity. Clanross was not to wed Bella. That did not mean he wished to marry me, I told myself several times. I even brooded a bit over the possibility that Clanross was wearing the willow for Bella. They'd been in each other's company all the way to Dublin, time enough for him to fall under her spell. If he had, her betrothal to Willoughby of all men must cause him pain. How tenderly would I console him. At that point I caught a bubble of laughter as it tickled my throat and converted it to a cough just in time.

  In the next interval Bella brought Willoughby to receive my congratulations. He looked as sheepish and defensive as it is possible for a gentleman of fashion to look.

  My heart went out to him. "I felicitate you, Willoughby. You're a lucky man."