by Gloria Gay
“You are irrepressible, my dear,” laughed her father and added, “but I would not have you any other way. I cannot think what I would do without you.” But remembering the reason for their conversation, he became downcast. “I am extremely upset over this bulletin, my dear, what will Arandale think?”
“Lord Arandale has been very gracious toward me these past few days,” said Cecilia. In fact, I have modified the unfortunate impression I had of him to a great degree. But how can I explain that I had nothing to do with this in a way he would believe me?”
She felt extremely worried at the gossip that had appeared in a column that was read avidly by almost everyone in the ton.
Why had they been unable to locate Lady Rolande in the few hours of their preparation for departure to London? She was thankful the arrangements had been made for Lady Rolande to move directly from the house party to her leased London townhouse. Her odd behavior at Rolling Hills made Cecilia wish to not see her any time soon, even though she would be forced to do so because she alone was to secure the meeting with the physician.
“I am so upset by all this,” said Sir Geoffrey. “I believe my heart is beating at twice the rate.”
“Well, you mustn’t let this upset you so much, Papa. It will not do to have you with more ailments than you already have.”
“What are we to do, my dear?”
“We are going to do nothing,” said Cecilia firmly. “I don’t think it will be as bad as you think. I shall look for an opportunity to speak with Lord Arandale and explain that we had nothing to do with this. It will be very awkward but I shall try.”
“I cannot seem to calm myself, my dear. Perhaps I should have one of the powder packets Lady Rolande gave me when she was here. They calmed me considerably. I feel very dizzy, my dear.”
“Do you have any of the packets left, Papa?” Cecilia was now becoming alarmed at the way her father’s complexion had changed from normal to a blanched hue. She rang for Jonathon and Elgin and asked them to help Sir Geoffrey to his bed.
Once Sir Geoffrey’s valet, Elgin, had got Sir Geoffrey into his night shirt and settled him in bed, Cecilia sat by the bed and asked her father if he remembered if Lady Rolande had left the powder packets behind.
“No, my dear, she deems it important that she give them to me personally, as they are strong medicine that can prove troublesome should the exact measure be modified.”
“Lady Rolande, it seems, has added medicine to her list of talents,” said Cecilia. “Could she have left any of them behind by chance, when she moved out?”
“She kept them in a black pouch with a red fringe.”
“I'm going to ring for Elgin, my dear, so that he can keep you company while I go looking for the medicine. And should I not find it, I shall have Martha accompany me to Lady Rolande’s house in Berkeley Square. Perhaps if I shake that bothersome lady hard enough, several of those medicine packets will shake loose from her and some information as to the bulletin, as well.”
“Take Jonathon, my dear, for the afternoon is waning.”
“I would not think of going anywhere without the protection of Jonathon, my dear, and Sam, our driver, as well. Rest your mind as far as that is concerned.”
Once Sir Geoffrey was lying on his bed and resting, Cecilia ordered tea to be taken up to him and went in search of the trusty Martha.
CHAPTER 31
The streets of London that afternoon, under dark low clouds, were gloomy but very busy and noisy. Their carriage cut through throngs of pedestrians like a knife cutting through butter. Vendors shouted their wares close to the carriage window so that at times Cecilia had to pull back. She felt tense from worry and had slept little the night before so there were dark circles under her eyes.
“I hope Lady Rolande is in,” said Martha, “otherwise our little journey will have been fruitless.”
“If she’s not in I shall find out where she went and follow her there,” said Cecilia with determination. “Did you not see how ill Papa looked, Martha?”
“Yes, my dear, I did, and it saddens me greatly. Such a good, decent man, Geoffrey. Always was.” Martha patted the perfect nest of coin-shaped curls on her head and looked out the window fearfully. “It does seem senseless to shout those wares so close to us, some of them bang so close against the window they might come to break it,” she said, viewing the crowd. “Do they imagine we will buy those pies that are covered in dirt, or those apples that are half rotted?”
Martha looked the picture of prim propriety as she viewed the outside scene with distaste.
“They will eventually find a buyer for each and every one of those items, Martha,” said Cecilia; “for there is much hunger in this teeming city and a budget for every pie, no matter how dirt-encrusted. Thousands of soldiers have been left without an income and now must scratch a living out of somewhere. At our house in London our cook has orders to give away any food left over at the end of the day to those who come to the door seeking a handout.”
“That food at least is clean,” said Martha, “but these pies and tarts they’re selling here, why, their teeth must be gritty on finishing one of those pies.”
“But their belly full,” said Cecilia. “It's hard to go to bed on an empty stomach, however, one can go to bed with a full stomach and gritty teeth.”
“But just see, Cecilia, dear, just ahead,” said Martha. “It seems Lady Rolande is just arriving. Can you see her? She is accompanied by someone, a man who is helping her down from her barouche.”
“Do you see who it is?”
“I believe it is that man who came to the Hall last summer, the tall massive manwith the pointed beardyour father's heir.”
“Shackel?”
“Yes, that’s the one. What an odd name, and fitting, somehow,” said Martha. Here, we are arrived and Lady Rolande is waving toward our carriage.”
“I am glad we found her at home. Although I would much rather have found her alone. However, one cannot expect things to be perfect. I will ask to speak in private with her, Martha, but you must be with me.”
“I would not think it otherwise,” said Martha glancing again at Lady Rolande who was now speaking with great animation to her companion.
“Ah, Cecilia, my dear—and Martha?”
“Yes,” said Martha, her voice subdued. It was obvious she disapproved of Lady Rolande.
“I must have a word with you in private, Lady Rolande,” said Cecilia.
“But do first greet your Papa’s cousin, my dear,” said Lady Rolande, “I am certain he must be anxious to have a word with you, also. He was just now mentioning the fact and pop! You appear from nowhere.”
“Papa is not well,” said Cecilia, “I was hoping I could speak to you about this, alone.”
“Yes, dear, but do come in. One cannot talk privately out on the street. Later, when we have spoken to your heart’s content, I hope you will do something for me in exchange, and have a few words with Alex. Will you do that, my dear?”
“Yes,” said Cecilia, as she nodded toward Alex Shackel. Then all three women trooped into the house, followed closely by Alex.
“How do you and Hedra find your new home, my lady?” asked Cecilia as they walked toward the library.”
“Very nice, my dear, although not as large as I would have liked it. There are only four bedrooms upstairs and the drawing room, although large, has furniture that can only be described as borderline shabby. I shall ask the proprietor to discount some money from the lease, as I remember that when I first made the decision to lease, some pieces of furniture were here that I do not see now.”
“Why, is that allowed?” asked Cecilia. “One would think they would not want a visit from the Magistrate if they engage in deceptive practices.”
“Well, I may have been confused,” said Lady Rolande quickly. “I would be advised not to make a fuss. With the season well into its second month, I would not be able to find another house for twice the amount.”
“And how does Hed
ra?” asked Cecilia when they entered the library and she closed the door behind them.
“She is well and I thank you,” said Lady Rolande, motioning to Cecilia and Martha to adjoining chairs. “She misses you dreadfully, dear.”
Once they were seated, Lady Rolande turned to them,
“And now, what is of so private importance that you drove here for the express purpose of telling me? I am all ears.”
“It is about Papa, my lady,” said Cecilia. “He is in great pain and the medicine you provided for him has exhausted. I would be very grateful if you would provide him with some more as quickly as you can arrange it. It pains me to see him suffer.”
“But of course. However, it is Alex who has been procuring the medicine for me from the doctor, my dear and I must tell you, it is very dear. I had not wanted to concern your father with this, since he has become so dependent on it, but each packet costs quite a lot.”
“Well, I would be happy to provide you with the funds, Lady Rolande, as Papa is not right now in a position to handle the financial aspect of it. Just how much does each packet cost?”
“I’ll order them for you, my dear and you can pay Alex later.”
“I would rather deal with you, Lady Rolande. I hardly know Mr. Shackel. It would not be proper.”
“Oh, very well,” said Lady Rolande. “But you must become more acquainted with your father’s heir, do you not think?”
“Eventually, yes. But I shall do so when Papa is present. Perhaps Papa will invite Mr. Shackel to the house when he is better. But for now, my most immediate concern is the medicine. You did say you still had some left?”
“Yes. I believe I may have two or three of the packets. Here, let me look inside the desk.”
Lady Rolande removed a key from her reticule and opened the desk drawer, while Cecilia looked in suspense.
“There. I believe I have four packets, my dear. You are lucky!”
“And I should give him a packet each day?”
“Give him the draught only if the pain gets too much for him to bear and never twice in one day. Perhaps I should accompany you, my dear.”
“That's not necessary, my lady. You have a guest and we have already taken up enough of your time. Please, if you would just send a bill to the house I will see that you are compensated for them. It's enough that you obtain them for Papa. We do not also want to burden you with the price of them.”
“Very well, my dear,” said Lady Rolande. “Here they are,” she said, after having wrapped them in a square of paper. “Tell Sir Geoffrey I look forward to Tuesday next, when I shall call on him.”
“Thank you, Lady Rolande. And now, we shall not take up any more of your time. Martha, let us leave now.”
“Yes,” said Martha, who had observed Lady Rolande all this time.
“But you must have a word with Alex, my dear. Remember, you promised me.”
“Yes,” said Cecilia. She had forgotten about that agreement. Now she saw it as something to be gotten through as quickly as possible so that she could hurry home and take the medicine to her father.
“Alex, here is your relation, all ready to have a chat with you!”
Alex Shackel came over and bowed to Cecilia. “Miss Sentenell, a pleasure.” He turned and nodded toward Martha.
“And how are you finding the season’s events, Miss. Sentenell?”
Cecilia noted that Shackel’s lids drooped over half his eyes, making him appear somewhat sleepy. Yet on looking closely, Cecilia noticed a sharp look behind the seemingly lazy lidded eyes.
I must suffer his company for only a few more minutes and then I'm free to go, she thought, as she endeavored to appear interested in what Shackel had to say.
“On Wednesday next, Ms. Sentenell, our next Almack’s ball, are you planning to attend?”
“I believe we are, yes,” said Cecilia, almost reluctantly, for she guessed the next question almost instantly.
“I would be most favored if you would grant me the honor of the third dance.”
“I don't plan so far ahead,” said Cecilia, forcing a smile to her lips, “it's only Saturday, Mr. Shackel.”
“Perhaps, since I am related to your father, an exception can be made?”
Lady Rolande interfered before Cecilia had a chance to again decline, which was what she intended to do. She could not imagine herself dancing with this middle-aged man with goatee and with half-lidded eyes under which a roving sharpness could be detected.
“My dear Cecilia, cannot you be less coy? I cannot believe a waltz in one night will make any difference to you, and it would make me so happy to see you dancing with my dear friend, Alex. Cannot you make an exception this one time, for me?”
“Well, I—” Cecilia looked toward Martha, whose whole face seemed to have turned into the word “NO.” But she realized that she really did not have a reason to deny the man one single dance. Lady Rolande, too, was appealing to her, right after providing Cecilia with medicine for her father that would make the world of difference to him.
“Well, all right, then, Mr. Shackel, the third dance it is,” she said. “And now, I really must go. Lady Rolande, again, thank you, and I shall be in touch.”
* * *
“Oh, that obnoxious man,” said Cecilia when they were inside the carriage, once more under the protection of their trusted driver, Sam Hinley, who had been with her father since he had been an adolescent and Jonathon, Cecilia’s footman and often confidant, who was Sam’s son. She felt once more at ease as she settled back on the cushioned seat to talk over their encounter at Lady Rolande’s with Martha.
“I would have said no to the dance, Martha, but Lady Rolande made a point of making me feel like I should do something for her, since she had done something for me.”
“I wouldn’t trust that woman if she were canonized,” said Martha. “She seems very cozy with Shackel, too. Makes one wonder what they're up to that they're so thick.”
“It is rather strange that they are recent acquaintances and yet are in each other's company at all hours.”
“I cannot abide either one of them nor the daughter, that girl with the head full of canaries.”
“Nor I—but just think, Martha, Papa will soon have his medicine and I shall forget this unpleasant little episode. After all, one dance does not a ball make.”
“Yes, I believe you are right, my dear Cecilia. One single dance will not ruin your ball. It will only ruin fifteen minutes of it. But I wonder at how insistent he is.”
“Yes, especially since I have given him many hints that I really don't like his company,” said Cecilia.
“Perhaps next time you see him you should paste it on his forehead.”
“You do make these difficult days a lot easier, Martha, dear,” said Cecilia laughing.
CHAPTER 32
Cecilia administered the medicine to her father according to Lady Rolande’s instructions, and soon Sir Geoffrey’s pain eased. Sitting beside him, she sighed with contentment at seeing the lines of pain on her father’s face ease slowly and then disappear completely.
I would dance not one but ten waltzes with that impossible man if only just to see Papa’s pain ease, she thought as she opened the book she had brought with her and prepared to spend a few hours in vigil. She had still three or four hours until her bed time and being close to her father made her feel that she was doing something toward his recovery.
The lines in the book danced before Cecilia’s eyes. After re-reading a paragraph several times she gave up on reading for the time being and surrendered to her errant thoughts. Now that her mind was not taken up with solving the problem of her father’s medicine, her mind reverted to their other problem, the horrible column that had appeared in the Times. It seemed incredible that it had happened and again wondered at the audacity of the person who had provided the information to the writer of the column. And after seeing Shackel and Lady Rolande so cozy and at ease with each other, she had to believe they had both plotted it.
/> What must Lord Arandale think of her, and how was she to convince him she had nothing to do with it?
By now all of London had read the column, thought Cecilia as she gazed fondly at her father. She cringed on imagining Lord Arandale reading those vile words. That vicious person who wrote it had no shame and apparently cared not for the harm caused, she thought glumly.
When she was certain her father would not wake up for a long time, Cecilia went down to the study and read the column again.
“The Fashionably Impure Miss Gem” could not be mistaken for anyone but Ruby De Langeliers. “Sir G., Lord A.” There was not a chance these words would be construed as meaning any other people than herself, Lord Arandale and Sir Geoffrey.
She wondered if Lord Arandale thought she had blabbed to half the world about her rejection of him. Those words in the news bulletin sounded word by word what she had expressed to Lord Arandale as his character faults!
“Ah, Martha, how good that you are still up. I was wondering if you might want to partake of a cup of tea with me.”
“With pleasure,” answered Martha, beaming.
“I don’t believe we will be invited to Rolling Hills again, Martha,” said Cecilia when they were settled with their tea in the front parlor. Outside, a spring drizzle had begun that was gaining momentum bringing with it an earthy smell from the garden.
Martha stood up to fasten the window, for a gust of wind had brought with it a spray of rain.
“You must not imagine too much into Lord Arandale’s reaction to the column, Cecilia. Perhaps he will see it as the vicious attempt to cause a rift between you and him that it was. Myself, I believe it may be cleared at the next ball, at Lord Belvedere’s.”
“I wish I could have your confidence, Martha. How come you to believe Lord Arandale will not give the column consequence?”
“I am a good judge of character, dear Cecilia. Perhaps he will be cool at first. It will be incumbent upon you to convince him you had nothing to do with that column.”
“A Herculean task, at best,” said Cecilia, her face falling, “because what if he gives me no opportunity to mention the subject?”