The Aim Of A Lady

by Laura Matthews

  “That’s what I enjoy,” he admitted, “and fishing is such a marvelous excuse for it.” Alma was amused that she seemed truly surprised by her unprecedented behavior.

  “Will you have luncheon with Mrs. Lewis and me today, so that she can thank you for the fish? I have warned the kitchen that we will be bringing some.”

  When he hesitated, she glanced at him imploringly. “I shall have a cushion placed on your chair.”

  “Oh, very well.” He grimaced. “I feel sure Mrs. Lewis does not care a fig if I join the two of you for meals.”

  “Actually, I fear she forgets you for the most part, and when she remembers, you she thinks you’re rather odd.”

  “I cannot blame her. The poor woman looks at me so strangely when I do not sit down. You must not think I do not urge her to seat herself, either, Miss Savile, for I do.”

  “I know, but you have a title and she simply cannot bring herself to sit when you are standing, unless I am there to do so first.” They had reached the house by this time and Diana handed the basket of fish to a footman to take to the kitchen. “They should be ready within twenty minutes. I will seek out Mrs. Lewis and a cushion.”

  When Alma joined the two ladies in the dining parlor precisely twenty minutes later, Mrs. Lewis was not able to hide her surprise at seeing him there, and he and Diana shared an amused glance. Diana waved him to the chair provided with a cushion and turned to Mrs. Lewis. “Lord Alma and I have spent the morning fishing, ma’am. Cook has prepared our catch for us.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Lewis murmured, crestfallen. “It has been the bane of my life, Miss Diana, what with my husband a navy man and all, but I must confess I do not like to eat fish!”

  Alma and Diana burst out laughing, much to the old woman’s astonishment. Diana tried to placate her by saying, “It is just that I only induced Lord Alma to join us for luncheon so that you might thank him for the catch. Do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Lewis, my dear. I am sure Cook will send along enough cold meats and fruit to serve for you.”

  Mrs. Lewis looked slightly mollified by, if not totally comprehending of this explanation. After all, she saw no reason why Lord Alma should need any inducement to take his meals with his hostess. Seeing her continued reserve with him, Alma, seated awkwardly on the left half of his bottom, exerted himself to converse with her. She was soon cheerfully telling him of her husband’s career and sad demise, of the years she had spent in Linton, and of the Saviles as children. In spite of the fact that Alma said very little during the meal, Mrs. Lewis retired to the small parlor with a much better opinion of him.

  Diana could see that the strain of sitting had taken its toll and she allowed Alma to wander off when the meal was complete, but she left word to have him join her in the stables if he should ask for her. Her own impatience to see the completed project made her take a hasty leave of Mrs. Lewis.

  A delighted smile spread over her face when she saw it. “It’s perfect!” With small wheels and various pieces from an old dog cart, Jenkins and his assistants had assembled a sturdy carriage which one drove by standing between the wheels, on the order of a Roman-style chariot. One of the stable lads, Josh, had been the one to test this remarkable vehicle, and his enthusiasm was unbounded.

  “Did people really drive like that, ma’am?” he asked.

  “Well, certainly they raced with such chariots long ago. I cannot imagine that it would have provided a very comfortable means of transportation, but it may have for the sturdier of them. I really do not know much about chariots, though I have seen pictures of them. I shall have to read up on the subject.”

  Jenkins, well aware of Diana’s curiosity about anything which caught her fancy, cast his eyes heavenward. “You do not think the young lord likely to break his neck in this contraption, Miss Diana?”

  “I should think it unlikely, but if it does not please him, he need not drive it. And your efforts would still not be wasted,” she added hastily, “for I could devise a play around it for next Christmastime.”

  “That I would like to see,” he retorted.

  “And so you shall, then,” she replied pertly. “Come, Jenkins, are you not the least bit pleased with it?”

  He broke into a slow smile. “That I am, Miss Diana, for I was not sure it could be done.”

  “I’m grateful to all of you. Could we mark his name on it?”

  There was a general discussion of the best method of performing this task and eventually Diana agreed that she would simply draw ALMA on the largest piece of foolscap she could lay her hands on, in her very best copperplate hand and Jenkins would attach it to the chariot for her. When she returned in an hour this was done, and they were still admiring the sign when Alma himself appeared in the stable.

  He looked at the chariot and then at Diana. “Is this my surprise?” he asked incredulously.

  “Do you not like it?” She suddenly felt uncertain. “The Romans drove chariots standing up, you know, and I had thought it would provide a challenge for you.” The excitement of a few moments before had turned to alarm. Perhaps he was angry for such a silly idea on her part. “There is no need for you to use it,” she hurried on. “I have told Jenkins that we shall use it in a Christmas play if you do not wish to drive it.”

  “Don’t be a goose!” he exclaimed, controlling an impulse to hug her in front of the whole stable staff. “How ever did you think of such a thing? No, don’t tell me,” he laughed. “I can imagine.”

  Diana felt relief flood through her. “We’ve put your name on it, and Jenkins thinks Charger would be best to pull it. Josh has used it with him and found everything secure. Would you like to try it now? Jenkins is afraid you’ll break your neck, but I really don’t think so,” she said seriously, her eyes dancing.

  “If I do, you are not to hold yourself to blame,” he retorted.

  “No more shall I.”

  There was a great deal of excitement surrounding the harnessing of the horse to the chariot and Alma’s testing its balance. The entire complement of the stable staff provided a cheer as he asked them to release the horse. It was an entirely unique experience for him to drive in such a manner, of course, requiring a great deal of balance and a different touch on the reins altogether. He had to break himself of the desire to use the ribbons as a balancing mechanism, for that confused the horse and tended to slow him. The exhilaration which encompassed Alma as he urged the horse to still greater speed did not tempt him to release his caution, however. For an hour he tooled along the lanes near the Park, laughing at the astonished faces of the people who passed him.

  When he brought the chariot back to the stables he found it was more difficult to alight than to drive the thing, but the stable lads ran to his assistance. “Tomorrow,” he informed them, “I should like to drive two horses tandem. Then I will race Miss Savile.” He turned to bestow a radiant smile on her. “Will you accept my challenge, ma’am?”

  “Certainly,” she responded readily. “Was it fun?”

  “Yes. A bit awkward at first, almost more like riding than driving in some ways. You feel very much closer to the horse than in a carriage, and more dependent on your own ability. I’m sorry, I didn’t offer you a chance to try it. Would you like to?”

  “Perhaps another time. I must join Mrs. Lewis for tea now. Do you come?”

  “Yes, I could stand a cup, and I will even sit down so that Mrs. Lewis will not be uncomfortable,” he offered handsomely.

  “There is no need, for you charmed her at lunch,” Diana replied. “I cannot doubt but that she will even accept your standing now.”

  They began to walk toward the house and Alma suddenly placed his hand on her arm. “I cannot express to you how grateful I am, Miss Savile. It was a very clever idea and I feel better just knowing there is something I can do. Oh, I have enjoyed the archery and the fencing and the fishing, but not being able to ride or drive was a nuisance. Worse than a nuisance. It put me in a very black temper and I could not feel easy. I ... well, thank you.�
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  “I’m pleased that it will serve,” she responded happily as he removed his hand from her arm and they continued toward the house. “Do you think the chariot goes faster than a phaeton?”

  “It is lighter, of course, and everything would indicate that it should. We shall see. You will not mind losing, I trust,” he said quizzingly.

  “Not I. I have spent most of my life losing races to George. He was never one to let me win out of soft-heartedness; I feel sure you will be the same.”

  “‘Depend on it,” he retorted as they entered the small parlor.

  During their absence Mrs. Lewis had sustained a visit from a friend just back from London. “She has brought me several papers from town, Miss Diana. You may wish to see them.”

  Diana thanked her for the offer and did avail herself of them after the tea tray had been removed and Mrs. Lewis had begun once more on her embroidery. “Oh, dear,” she said pathetically. “He was too late. Poor George.”

  Pacing about the room, ready to excuse himself, Alma looked at her questioningly. Her stricken expression startled him.

  “There is an announcement of the engagement of Miss Alonna Sanfield to Lord Vallert,” she explained sadly, biting her lip. Diana lapsed into thought for a while, unaware of the concern she was causing her companions. “I think I must go to London.”

  “To London?” Mrs. Lewis asked quaveringly. “I thought you did not even like to go to town, Miss Diana.”

  “No, I do not really care for it, but I think George must be feeling rather down and he could use my company.” Her eyes chanced to land on Alma at that moment and his ludicrous expression drew her up sharply. “No, of course I cannot go now. What am I thinking of? Forgive me, Lord Alma. If George needs company he will surely return to the Park,” she prophesied with an overly brilliant smile.

  Alma was at a pass. Miss Savile obviously longed to go to her brother but felt she must stay to entertain him, and he could not suggest that she go because that would leave him without either host or hostess at the Park, and he could not leave yet. Well, he could manage without a host or hostess for a few days, he supposed. She had been very kind to him, attentive to his needs and sympathetic to his moodiness. “If you wish to go to London, Miss Savile, I hope you will not allow me to detain you. I can manage here on my own.”

  Diana studied her hands and bit her lip. “No, there is no need for me to go. The paper is three days old now, and George has not returned. He was not altogether sure ... Well, I shall just assume he is fine,” she said stoutly.

  Mrs. Lewis surveyed the two young people uneasily. That Mr. Savile would be affected by the announcement of this young lady’s engagement, she surmised readily enough, but she did not like to see Miss Diana so downcast, so she said heartily, “If you were to go to London you would probably pass Mr. Savile on the road, my dear. If he has decided to come home, that is.”

  Diana met the old woman’s concerned gaze. “Yes, it would be very foolish of me to rush off in such a helter-skelter fashion, would it not, Mrs. Lewis? I shall stay right where I am and wait for word from him.”

  * * * *

  It had not occurred to George to send word to his sister. He had decided the previous day, whenever his concentration drifted from his book, that if the rain had not stopped by the next morning he would hire a closed carriage to take him to Lymington. He was in luck, however, and a watery sun shone through that following day, so he set out through the mud regardless of the tales of flooding.

  The whole day was spent fording unknown and unexpected streams across the roads, being splattered with mud each time he passed another carriage and urging each new pair of horses to face the inconveniences with courage. George reached the Old Toll House at Lymington late in the evening—cold, wet and muddy. The meal he ordered in his room was nourishing if not very appetizing looking, and the brandy seemed heaven-sent.

  George was tempted to discard his distressed clothing forever, but instead decided to pay a premium for having it respectably cleaned by a maid who tutted the while she examined it. He had not brought more than a few changes of clothing, and he had no intention of presenting himself at Franston Hall other than respectably dressed. He had begun to question the wisdom of his journey, but it bore in on him the fact that he was more deeply attached to Alonna than even he had previously suspected. Though he realized that there was little hope of a successful conclusion, he looked forward to the next day with a great deal of tension which was wholly foreign to his placid nature.

  * * * *

  Lord Vallert had returned to London in high dudgeon, and the interview he conducted with Lord Franston did not please either of them. Alonna’s father refused to order his daughter back to London or to retrieve her. He simply said, “She’ll come about, young man. Give her time. No need to take on so.”

  Vallert lost his temper then. “Why the hell shouldn’t I take on? The chit said if I did not have a retraction printed she would do so herself, and threatened to blacken my character in the process! Have you no control over your daughter?”

  Lord Franston eyed him malevolently. “Obviously no more than you have over your intended, you young gudgeon. Retract the announcement. You can insert it again when Alonna has agreed and it will appear merely a lover’s quarrel. The ton will lap it up, slap me if they won’t.”

  “I will appear a fool!”

  “And so you are, for inserting the announcement in the first place without receiving my daughter’s permission.”

  “Do you think she would actually have the retraction printed herself in such a way as to cast a bad light on me?” Vallert demanded.

  “Couldn’t say. Don’t know her very well, you see. Spent most of her time the last few years in the country.”

  “I shall not print a retraction,” Vallert asserted hotly. “I intend to marry your daughter!”

  The older man regarded him thoughtfully. “I cannot see why you wish to marry a young woman who doesn’t want you, but I wash my hands of the matter. You will no doubt find out in time if she meant what she said. My own guess, for what it’s worth, is that she did. She has but a year before her majority and I imagine her sister will be willing to house her until then. I cannot force her to marry you. You’d be smart to cut your losses.”

  Vallert stalked out without another word, leaving Lord Franston to mutter about ill-mannered young puppies to a nonexistent audience. Alonna’s father had the uneasy feeling that he had not handled the entire matter as he ought, but he had no ambition to involve himself further. Let Margaret take his daughter off his hands; as far as he was concerned it was almost as good as marrying her off.

  Chapter Nine

  Diana awoke the next morning with a heavy heart. George was the person she loved most in the whole world and she ached for his disappointment. In all the years they had talked together as contemporaries (and he had treated her as such for the last ten years), he had never before spoken of any woman as being someone he desired to marry; and he had led an active social life in London from the time he first went there at twenty, when she was only eight. In those days, their parents already dead, he had provided her with a kindly governess and frequently stayed at the Park for long periods of time. All those years he had met young women daily at his home and in town, and never once had he mentioned one he wanted to marry.

  It might be, she thought, that he had decided it was time to marry and had chosen the best of those available, but she thought not. He had spoken with real warmth about this Alonna Sanfield, had even thought of asking Diana to come to London to meet her. Even though he had appeared to question the choice of such a young and inexperienced woman, she knew that he had already decided to try his luck. How frustrating not even to have a chance, to be so close and lose her without ever knowing if she would have had him.

  Diana drew herself up abruptly. George had left her with a responsibility and that was the only thing she could do for him now—make sure that Lord Alma was kept occupied and reasonably happ
y. She was determined to do that one small thing for her brother. Perhaps even now George was headed for the Park, as Mrs. Lewis had suggested. She sighed and rose from her bed to dress for the morning.

  Alma had joined them the previous evening for dinner and several games of three-handed whist. He did not come to breakfast but met Diana in the hall shortly after she left Mrs. Lewis in the small parlor.

  “Shall we have our race now?” he asked cheerfully.

  “Yes, but you will want to practice with the horses tandem first. I have to speak with the housekeeper, but I will join you at the stables in half an hour, if that’s agreeable.”

  When she joined him there, the grooms were ready to harness the horses to her own phaeton. George had presented it to her on her birthday almost a year ago. “Have you marked out a course?” she asked Alma.

  “We have a marker there beyond the gate for the start and finish. Twice around the south field. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Perfectly. How do the horses handle in tandem with the chariot?”

  “A trifle sticky, but I think I’m getting the knack of it.”

  “Good. Do you wish to make a wager on the race? George always does.”

  “What sort of wager?”

  “When we were young we did it for chores and errands, now we wager fantastic amounts of money— imaginary, of course.”

  Alma could not offhand think of any ridiculous bet to make, though an absurd idea popped into his mind to be immediately discarded. “What do you say to a guinea?”

  “You’re on.”

  The grooms held their horses at the starting line until Jenkins gave the signal to start. Diana took an immediate lead because Alma was having trouble controlling his horses. The path was wide enough for the two vehicles side by side, but Diana maintained a full length ahead of Alma the first time around the south field. When they were halfway around the second time he began to gain on her, accustomed now to the speed and the movement of the chariot. As they came past the field and onto the stretch toward the stables his chariot wheel sank briefly into a hole which threw him slightly off balance. In his effort to maintain his stance his pressure on the reins caused the horses to swerve just enough to throw the chariot wheel against that of the phaeton.